Stories after Nature/Friendship
FRIENDSHIP.
HERE lived in England two friends. They were both of them in their freshest youth; but unprovoked and irremediable sorrow fixed upon the heart of one; and he, being of a most tender and susceptible nature, it soon brought him from the robustness of youth to sickness and imbecility. It became necessary that he should go into Italy for the restoration of his health, and he went to the pleasant Florence. The cause of his sorrow still continuing, like a jagged iron in his heart, it rusted and corroded, and he soon died a martyr to it.
His friend ever after became more silent and melancholy; and though his love for him was great before they went from England, yet having felt his gentle dependence upon him in his illness and his dying days, it became greater after his death; for he felt that he never could do any thing for him again, and that all was at an end. He bethought him of a speech his friend had made just before his breath quitted him, but which then had passed unheeded; it was "Would, Fred., I had died in England; I love my country, and to have been buried there I should have died content." And instantly he determined to fulfil his desire; he made a religion of the thought, and set about it with all his zeal.
From his constant attendance on his friend, all his money was gone; he knew no soul in Florence, and without a heavy sum he could not accomplish his intent. Now there was a rich man there, who was reported by the people of Florence to be charitable, and to distribute his wealth with a liberal hand; the youth went to him without hesitation, and told him of his intention, requesting the loan of some money. This rich man, however, was ostentatious, and not charitable; and, having no feeling for him, dismissed him, ridiculing his folly, and saying, "That his friend, being now dead, could have no desire; that he would assist the needy, but would not waste his coin upon the idle whims of any person; that as this was the last bed his friend would want, and must be under the surface of the earth, it mattered not where." This he well knew; but the words of his friend were graven on his heart. So he went into that part of the city, where the rich men resorted, and looking into their faces, chose four, whose countenances best pleased him, and spoke to them as follows. "I guess all of you have got wives, children, or parents, or some comfortable bosoms in this world, where your affections are fixed; it is to the heart, the temple where that affection is shrined, that I now make my appeal. If they were to make a dying request to you, would you not fulfil it?" They looked on one another strangely, and answered, "Yes." He resumed: "I came to Italy, to your Florence here, with a sick friend, the friend of my bosom; he is dead, and gone to oblivion: but as he was humane, kind, and virtuous, his memory lives in my heart, and is freshened with my tears." Here he wept bitterly, and was so full of noble sorrow, that one of the strangers, forgetting his mean apparel, and the strangeness of the thing, feelingly took his hands in his and comforted him; he then went on and explained all to them, saying, "That though his poor friend had not desired him to do this thing, yet as it was the last he could ever do, he had a great hope that it would be fulfilled; though he scarcely saw by what means, unless they would advance him money enough to effect it; as he knew no person, and had no security to offer but his own honour." They were so sensibly touched with his greatness of soul, that one of them took him to his house, clothed him in new apparel, gave him the money, and, embracing him, sent him away joyful.
Early in the morning he walked out of the city, and gathered the most beautiful flowers then in season, with herbs of the strongest fragrance; and causing his friend to be put into a case of lead, he covered him with them. He watched all day by his side, and in the evening, when the ship was ready, kissed his lips, and he was enclosed from his sight for ever. At night he went aboard with a bursting heart.
When he reached England, he gathered their mutual friends, and caused him to be buried under a yew tree in the churchyard of the village where he was born. After resting some days, he returned to Florence, and laboured with his hands till the debt was paid.