Symposium

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SYMPOSIUM

by Plato

Translated by Benjamin Jowett

INTRODUCTION.

Of all the works of Plato the Symposium is the most perfect in form, and
may be truly thought to contain more than any commentator has ever dreamed
of; or, as Goethe said of one of his own writings, more than the author
himself knew. For in philosophy as in prophecy glimpses of the future may
often be conveyed in words which could hardly have been understood or
interpreted at the time when they were uttered (compare Symp.)--which were
wiser than the writer of them meant, and could not have been expressed by
him if he had been interrogated about them. Yet Plato was not a mystic,
nor in any degree affected by the Eastern influences which afterwards
overspread the Alexandrian world. He was not an enthusiast or a
sentimentalist, but one who aspired only to see reasoned truth, and whose
thoughts are clearly explained in his language. There is no foreign
element either of Egypt or of Asia to be found in his writings. And more
than any other Platonic work the Symposium is Greek both in style and
subject, having a beauty 'as of a statue,' while the companion Dialogue of
the Phaedrus is marked by a sort of Gothic irregularity. More too than in
any other of his Dialogues, Plato is emancipated from former philosophies.
The genius of Greek art seems to triumph over the traditions of
Pythagorean, Eleatic, or Megarian systems, and 'the old quarrel of poetry
and philosophy' has at least a superficial reconcilement. (Rep.)

An unknown person who had heard of the discourses in praise of love spoken
by Socrates and others at the banquet of Agathon is desirous of having an
authentic account of them, which he thinks that he can obtain from
Apollodorus, the same excitable, or rather 'mad' friend of Socrates, who is
afterwards introduced in the Phaedo. He had imagined that the discourses
were recent. There he is mistaken: but they are still fresh in the memory
of his informant, who had just been repeating them to Glaucon, and is quite
prepared to have another rehearsal of them in a walk from the Piraeus to
Athens. Although he had not been present himself, he had heard them from
the best authority. Aristodemus, who is described as having been in past
times a humble but inseparable attendant of Socrates, had reported them to
him (compare Xen. Mem.).

The narrative which he had heard was as follows:--

Aristodemus meeting Socrates in holiday attire, is invited by him to a
banquet at the house of Agathon, who had been sacrificing in thanksgiving
for his tragic victory on the day previous. But no sooner has he entered
the house than he finds that he is alone; Socrates has stayed behind in a
fit of abstraction, and does not appear until the banquet is half over. On
his appearing he and the host jest a little; the question is then asked by
Pausanias, one of the guests, 'What shall they do about drinking? as they
had been all well drunk on the day before, and drinking on two successive
days is such a bad thing.' This is confirmed by the authority of
Eryximachus the physician, who further proposes that instead of listening
to the flute-girl and her 'noise' they shall make speeches in honour of
love, one after another, going from left to right in the order in which
they are reclining at the table. All of them agree to this proposal, and
Phaedrus, who is the 'father' of the idea, which he has previously
communicated to Eryximachus, begins as follows:--

He descants first of all upon the antiquity of love, which is proved by the
authority of the poets; secondly upon the benefits which love gives to man.
The greatest of these is the sense of honour and dishonour. The lover is
ashamed to be seen by the beloved doing or suffering any cowardly or mean
act. And a state or army which was made up only of lovers and their loves
would be invincible. For love will convert the veriest coward into an
inspired hero.

And there have been true loves not only of men but of women also. Such was
the love of Alcestis, who dared to die for her husband, and in recompense
of her virtue was allowed to come again from the dead. But Orpheus, the
miserable harper, who went down to Hades alive, that he might bring back
his wife, was mocked with an apparition only, and the gods afterwards
contrived his death as the punishment of his cowardliness. The love of
Achilles, like that of Alcestis, was courageous and true; for he was
willing to avenge his lover Patroclus, although he knew that his own death
would immediately follow: and the gods, who honour the love of the beloved
above that of the lover, rewarded him, and sent him to the islands of the
blest.

Pausanias, who was sitting next, then takes up the tale:--He says that
Phaedrus should have distinguished the heavenly love from the earthly,
before he praised either. For there are two loves, as there are two
Aphrodites--one the daughter of Uranus, who has no mother and is the elder
and wiser goddess, and the other, the daughter of Zeus and Dione, who is
popular and common. The first of the two loves has a noble purpose, and
delights only in the intelligent nature of man, and is faithful to the end,
and has no shadow of wantonness or lust. The second is the coarser kind of
love, which is a love of the body rather than of the soul, and is of women
and boys as well as of men. Now the actions of lovers vary, like every
other sort of action, according to the manner of their performance. And in
different countries there is a difference of opinion about male loves.
Some, like the Boeotians, approve of them; others, like the Ionians, and
most of the barbarians, disapprove of them; partly because they are aware
of the political dangers which ensue from them, as may be seen in the
instance of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. At Athens and Sparta there is an
apparent contradiction about them. For at times they are encouraged, and
then the lover is allowed to play all sorts of fantastic tricks; he may
swear and forswear himself (and 'at lovers' perjuries they say Jove
laughs'); he may be a servant, and lie on a mat at the door of his love,
without any loss of character; but there are also times when elders look
grave and guard their young relations, and personal remarks are made. The
truth is that some of these loves are disgraceful and others honourable.
The vulgar love of the body which takes wing and flies away when the bloom
of youth is over, is disgraceful, and so is the interested love of power or
wealth; but the love of the noble mind is lasting. The lover should be
tested, and the beloved should not be too ready to yield. The rule in our
country is that the beloved may do the same service to the lover in the way
of virtue which the lover may do to him.

A voluntary service to be rendered for the sake of virtue and wisdom is
permitted among us; and when these two customs--one the love of youth, the
other the practice of virtue and philosophy--meet in one, then the lovers
may lawfully unite. Nor is there any disgrace to a disinterested lover in
being deceived: but the interested lover is doubly disgraced, for if he
loses his love he loses his character; whereas the noble love of the other
remains the same, although the object of his love is unworthy: for nothing
can be nobler than love for the sake of virtue. This is that love of the
heavenly goddess which is of great price to individuals and cities, making
them work together for their improvement.

The turn of Aristophanes comes next; but he has the hiccough, and therefore
proposes that Eryximachus the physician shall cure him or speak in his
turn. Eryximachus is ready to do both, and after prescribing for the
hiccough, speaks as follows:--

He agrees with Pausanias in maintaining that there are two kinds of love;
but his art has led him to the further conclusion that the empire of this
double love extends over all things, and is to be found in animals and
plants as well as in man. In the human body also there are two loves; and
the art of medicine shows which is the good and which is the bad love, and
persuades the body to accept the good and reject the bad, and reconciles
conflicting elements and makes them friends. Every art, gymnastic and
husbandry as well as medicine, is the reconciliation of opposites; and this
is what Heracleitus meant, when he spoke of a harmony of opposites: but in
strictness he should rather have spoken of a harmony which succeeds
opposites, for an agreement of disagreements there cannot be. Music too is
concerned with the principles of love in their application to harmony and
rhythm. In the abstract, all is simple, and we are not troubled with the
twofold love; but when they are applied in education with their
accompaniments of song and metre, then the discord begins. Then the old
tale has to be repeated of fair Urania and the coarse Polyhymnia, who must
be indulged sparingly, just as in my own art of medicine care must be taken
that the taste of the epicure be gratified without inflicting upon him the
attendant penalty of disease.

There is a similar harmony or disagreement in the course of the seasons and
in the relations of moist and dry, hot and cold, hoar frost and blight; and
diseases of all sorts spring from the excesses or disorders of the element
of love. The knowledge of these elements of love and discord in the
heavenly bodies is termed astronomy, in the relations of men towards gods
and parents is called divination. For divination is the peacemaker of gods
and men, and works by a knowledge of the tendencies of merely human loves
to piety and impiety. Such is the power of love; and that love which is
just and temperate has the greatest power, and is the source of all our
happiness and friendship with the gods and with one another. I dare say
that I have omitted to mention many things which you, Aristophanes, may
supply, as I perceive that you are cured of the hiccough.

Aristophanes is the next speaker:--

He professes to open a new vein of discourse, in which he begins by
treating of the origin of human nature. The sexes were originally three,
men, women, and the union of the two; and they were made round--having four
hands, four feet, two faces on a round neck, and the rest to correspond.
Terrible was their strength and swiftness; and they were essaying to scale
heaven and attack the gods. Doubt reigned in the celestial councils; the
gods were divided between the desire of quelling the pride of man and the
fear of losing the sacrifices. At last Zeus hit upon an expedient. Let us
cut them in two, he said; then they will only have half their strength, and
we shall have twice as many sacrifices. He spake, and split them as you
might split an egg with an hair; and when this was done, he told Apollo to
give their faces a twist and re-arrange their persons, taking out the
wrinkles and tying the skin in a knot about the navel. The two halves went
about looking for one another, and were ready to die of hunger in one
another's arms. Then Zeus invented an adjustment of the sexes, which
enabled them to marry and go their way to the business of life. Now the
characters of men differ accordingly as they are derived from the original
man or the original woman, or the original man-woman. Those who come from
the man-woman are lascivious and adulterous; those who come from the woman
form female attachments; those who are a section of the male follow the
male and embrace him, and in him all their desires centre. The pair are
inseparable and live together in pure and manly affection; yet they cannot
tell what they want of one another. But if Hephaestus were to come to them
with his instruments and propose that they should be melted into one and
remain one here and hereafter, they would acknowledge that this was the
very expression of their want. For love is the desire of the whole, and
the pursuit of the whole is called love. There was a time when the two
sexes were only one, but now God has halved them,--much as the
Lacedaemonians have cut up the Arcadians,--and if they do not behave
themselves he will divide them again, and they will hop about with half a
nose and face in basso relievo. Wherefore let us exhort all men to piety,
that we may obtain the goods of which love is the author, and be reconciled
to God, and find our own true loves, which rarely happens in this world.
And now I must beg you not to suppose that I am alluding to Pausanias and
Agathon (compare Protag.), for my words refer to all mankind everywhere.

Some raillery ensues first between Aristophanes and Eryximachus, and then
between Agathon, who fears a few select friends more than any number of
spectators at the theatre, and Socrates, who is disposed to begin an
argument. This is speedily repressed by Phaedrus, who reminds the
disputants of their tribute to the god. Agathon's speech follows:--

He will speak of the god first and then of his gifts: He is the fairest
and blessedest and best of the gods, and also the youngest, having had no
existence in the old days of Iapetus and Cronos when the gods were at war.
The things that were done then were done of necessity and not of love. For
love is young and dwells in soft places,--not like Ate in Homer, walking on
the skulls of men, but in their hearts and souls, which are soft enough.
He is all flexibility and grace, and his habitation is among the flowers,
and he cannot do or suffer wrong; for all men serve and obey him of their
own free will, and where there is love there is obedience, and where
obedience, there is justice; for none can be wronged of his own free will.
And he is temperate as well as just, for he is the ruler of the desires,
and if he rules them he must be temperate. Also he is courageous, for he
is the conqueror of the lord of war. And he is wise too; for he is a poet,
and the author of poesy in others. He created the animals; he is the
inventor of the arts; all the gods are his subjects; he is the fairest and
best himself, and the cause of what is fairest and best in others; he makes
men to be of one mind at a banquet, filling them with affection and
emptying them of disaffection; the pilot, helper, defender, saviour of men,
in whose footsteps let every man follow, chanting a strain of love. Such
is the discourse, half playful, half serious, which I dedicate to the god.

The turn of Socrates comes next. He begins by remarking satirically that
he has not understood the terms of the original agreement, for he fancied
that they meant to speak the true praises of love, but now he finds that
they only say what is good of him, whether true or false. He begs to be
absolved from speaking falsely, but he is willing to speak the truth, and
proposes to begin by questioning Agathon. The result of his questions may
be summed up as follows:--

Love is of something, and that which love desires is not that which love is
or has; for no man desires that which he is or has. And love is of the
beautiful, and therefore has not the beautiful. And the beautiful is the
good, and therefore, in wanting and desiring the beautiful, love also wants
and desires the good. Socrates professes to have asked the same questions
and to have obtained the same answers from Diotima, a wise woman of
Mantinea, who, like Agathon, had spoken first of love and then of his
works. Socrates, like Agathon, had told her that Love is a mighty god and
also fair, and she had shown him in return that Love was neither, but in a
mean between fair and foul, good and evil, and not a god at all, but only a
great demon or intermediate power (compare the speech of Eryximachus) who
conveys to the gods the prayers of men, and to men the commands of the
gods.

Socrates asks: Who are his father and mother? To this Diotima replies
that he is the son of Plenty and Poverty, and partakes of the nature of
both, and is full and starved by turns. Like his mother he is poor and
squalid, lying on mats at doors (compare the speech of Pausanias); like his
father he is bold and strong, and full of arts and resources. Further, he
is in a mean between ignorance and knowledge:--in this he resembles the
philosopher who is also in a mean between the wise and the ignorant. Such
is the nature of Love, who is not to be confused with the beloved.

But Love desires the beautiful; and then arises the question, What does he
desire of the beautiful? He desires, of course, the possession of the
beautiful;--but what is given by that? For the beautiful let us substitute
the good, and we have no difficulty in seeing the possession of the good to
be happiness, and Love to be the desire of happiness, although the meaning
of the word has been too often confined to one kind of love. And Love
desires not only the good, but the everlasting possession of the good. Why
then is there all this flutter and excitement about love? Because all men
and women at a certain age are desirous of bringing to the birth. And love
is not of beauty only, but of birth in beauty; this is the principle of
immortality in a mortal creature. When beauty approaches, then the
conceiving power is benign and diffuse; when foulness, she is averted and
morose.

But why again does this extend not only to men but also to animals?
Because they too have an instinct of immortality. Even in the same
individual there is a perpetual succession as well of the parts of the
material body as of the thoughts and desires of the mind; nay, even
knowledge comes and goes. There is no sameness of existence, but the new
mortality is always taking the place of the old. This is the reason why
parents love their children--for the sake of immortality; and this is why
men love the immortality of fame. For the creative soul creates not
children, but conceptions of wisdom and virtue, such as poets and other
creators have invented. And the noblest creations of all are those of
legislators, in honour of whom temples have been raised. Who would not
sooner have these children of the mind than the ordinary human ones?
(Compare Bacon's Essays, 8:--'Certainly the best works and of greatest
merit for the public have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men;
which both in affection and means have married and endowed the public.')

I will now initiate you, she said, into the greater mysteries; for he who
would proceed in due course should love first one fair form, and then many,
and learn the connexion of them; and from beautiful bodies he should
proceed to beautiful minds, and the beauty of laws and institutions, until
he perceives that all beauty is of one kindred; and from institutions he
should go on to the sciences, until at last the vision is revealed to him
of a single science of universal beauty, and then he will behold the
everlasting nature which is the cause of all, and will be near the end. In
the contemplation of that supreme being of love he will be purified of
earthly leaven, and will behold beauty, not with the bodily eye, but with
the eye of the mind, and will bring forth true creations of virtue and
wisdom, and be the friend of God and heir of immortality.

Such, Phaedrus, is the tale which I heard from the stranger of Mantinea,
and which you may call the encomium of love, or what you please.

The company applaud the speech of Socrates, and Aristophanes is about to
say something, when suddenly a band of revellers breaks into the court, and
the voice of Alcibiades is heard asking for Agathon. He is led in drunk,
and welcomed by Agathon, whom he has come to crown with a garland. He is
placed on a couch at his side, but suddenly, on recognizing Socrates, he
starts up, and a sort of conflict is carried on between them, which Agathon
is requested to appease. Alcibiades then insists that they shall drink,
and has a large wine-cooler filled, which he first empties himself, and
then fills again and passes on to Socrates. He is informed of the nature
of the entertainment; and is ready to join, if only in the character of a
drunken and disappointed lover he may be allowed to sing the praises of
Socrates:--

He begins by comparing Socrates first to the busts of Silenus, which have
images of the gods inside them; and, secondly, to Marsyas the flute-player.
For Socrates produces the same effect with the voice which Marsyas did with
the flute. He is the great speaker and enchanter who ravishes the souls of
men; the convincer of hearts too, as he has convinced Alcibiades, and made
him ashamed of his mean and miserable life. Socrates at one time seemed
about to fall in love with him; and he thought that he would thereby gain a
wonderful opportunity of receiving lessons of wisdom. He narrates the
failure of his design. He has suffered agonies from him, and is at his
wit's end. He then proceeds to mention some other particulars of the life
of Socrates; how they were at Potidaea together, where Socrates showed his
superior powers of enduring cold and fatigue; how on one occasion he had
stood for an entire day and night absorbed in reflection amid the wonder of
the spectators; how on another occasion he had saved Alcibiades' life; how
at the battle of Delium, after the defeat, he might be seen stalking about
like a pelican, rolling his eyes as Aristophanes had described him in the
Clouds. He is the most wonderful of human beings, and absolutely unlike
anyone but a satyr. Like the satyr in his language too; for he uses the
commonest words as the outward mask of the divinest truths.

When Alcibiades has done speaking, a dispute begins between him and Agathon
and Socrates. Socrates piques Alcibiades by a pretended affection for
Agathon. Presently a band of revellers appears, who introduce disorder
into the feast; the sober part of the company, Eryximachus, Phaedrus, and
others, withdraw; and Aristodemus, the follower of Socrates, sleeps during
the whole of a long winter's night. When he wakes at cockcrow the
revellers are nearly all asleep. Only Socrates, Aristophanes, and Agathon
hold out; they are drinking from a large goblet, which they pass round, and
Socrates is explaining to the two others, who are half-asleep, that the
genius of tragedy is the same as that of comedy, and that the writer of
tragedy ought to be a writer of comedy also. And first Aristophanes drops,
and then, as the day is dawning, Agathon. Socrates, having laid them to
rest, takes a bath and goes to his daily avocations until the evening.
Aristodemus follows.

...

If it be true that there are more things in the Symposium of Plato than any
commentator has dreamed of, it is also true that many things have been
imagined which are not really to be found there. Some writings hardly
admit of a more distinct interpretation than a musical composition; and
every reader may form his own accompaniment of thought or feeling to the
strain which he hears. The Symposium of Plato is a work of this character,
and can with difficulty be rendered in any words but the writer's own.
There are so many half-lights and cross-lights, so much of the colour of
mythology, and of the manner of sophistry adhering--rhetoric and poetry,
the playful and the serious, are so subtly intermingled in it, and vestiges
of old philosophy so curiously blend with germs of future knowledge, that
agreement among interpreters is not to be expected. The expression 'poema
magis putandum quam comicorum poetarum,' which has been applied to all the
writings of Plato, is especially applicable to the Symposium.

The power of love is represented in the Symposium as running through all
nature and all being: at one end descending to animals and plants, and
attaining to the highest vision of truth at the other. In an age when man
was seeking for an expression of the world around him, the conception of
love greatly affected him. One of the first distinctions of language and
of mythology was that of gender; and at a later period the ancient
physicist, anticipating modern science, saw, or thought that he saw, a sex
in plants; there were elective affinities among the elements, marriages of
earth and heaven. (Aesch. Frag. Dan.) Love became a mythic personage whom
philosophy, borrowing from poetry, converted into an efficient cause of
creation. The traces of the existence of love, as of number and figure,
were everywhere discerned; and in the Pythagorean list of opposites male
and female were ranged side by side with odd and even, finite and infinite.

But Plato seems also to be aware that there is a mystery of love in man as
well as in nature, extending beyond the mere immediate relation of the
sexes. He is conscious that the highest and noblest things in the world
are not easily severed from the sensual desires, or may even be regarded as
a spiritualized form of them. We may observe that Socrates himself is not
represented as originally unimpassioned, but as one who has overcome his
passions; the secret of his power over others partly lies in his passionate
but self-controlled nature. In the Phaedrus and Symposium love is not
merely the feeling usually so called, but the mystical contemplation of the
beautiful and the good. The same passion which may wallow in the mire is
capable of rising to the loftiest heights--of penetrating the inmost secret
of philosophy. The highest love is the love not of a person, but of the
highest and purest abstraction. This abstraction is the far-off heaven on
which the eye of the mind is fixed in fond amazement. The unity of truth,
the consistency of the warring elements of the world, the enthusiasm for
knowledge when first beaming upon mankind, the relativity of ideas to the
human mind, and of the human mind to ideas, the faith in the invisible, the
adoration of the eternal nature, are all included, consciously or
unconsciously, in Plato's doctrine of love.

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