Plato
The Symposium
Socrates on Love
When
Agathon had done speaking, Aristodemus said that there was a general
cheer; the young man was thought to have spoken in a manner worthy of
himself, and of the god. And Socrates, looking at Eryximachus, said:
“Tell me, son of Acumenus, was there not reason in my fears? and was I
not a true prophet when I said that Agathon would make a wonderful
oration, and that I should be in a strait?”
“The
part of the prophecy which concerns Agathon,” replied Eryximachus,
“appears to me to be true; but, not the other part-that you will be in a
strait.”
“Why,
my dear friend,” said Socrates, “must not I or any one be in a strait
who has to speak after he has heard such a rich and varied discourse? I am
especially struck with the beauty of the concluding words – who could
listen to them without amazement? When I reflected on the immeasurable
inferiority of my own powers, I was ready to run away for shame, if there
had been a possibility of escape. For I was reminded of Gorgias, and at
the end of his speech I fancied that Agathon was shaking at me the
Gorginian or Gorgonian head of the great master of rhetoric, which was
simply to turn me and my speech, into stone, as Homer says, and strike me
dumb. And then I perceived how foolish I had been in consenting to take my
turn with you in praising love, and saying that I too was a master of the
art, when I really had no conception how anything ought to be praised. For
in my simplicity I imagined that the topics of praise should be true, and
that this being presupposed, out of the true the speaker was to choose the
best and set them forth in the best manner. And I felt quite proud,
thinking that I knew the nature of true praise, and should speak well.
Whereas I now see that the intention was to attribute to Love every
species of greatness and glory, whether really belonging to him not,
without regard to truth or falsehood-that was no matter; for the original,
proposal seems to have been not that each of you should really praise
Love, but only that you should appear to praise him. And so you attribute
to Love every imaginable form of praise which can be gathered anywhere;
and you say that ‘he is all this,’ and ‘the cause of all that,’
making him appear the fairest and best of all to those who know him not,
for you cannot impose upon those who know him. And a noble and solemn hymn
of praise have you rehearsed. But as I misunderstood the nature of the
praise when I said that I would take my turn, I must beg to be absolved
from the promise which I made in ignorance, and which (as Euripides would
say) was a promise of the lips and not of the mind. Farewell then to such
a strain: for I do not praise in that way; no, indeed, I cannot. But if
you like to here the truth about love, I am ready to speak in my own
manner, though I will not make myself ridiculous by entering into any
rivalry with you. Say then, Phaedrus, whether you would like, to have the
truth about love, spoken in any words and in any order which may happen to
come into my mind at the time. Will that be agreeable to you?”
Aristodemus
said that Phaedrus and the company bid him speak in any manner which he
thought best. Then, he added, “let me have your permission first to ask
Agathon a few more questions, in order that I may take his admissions as
the premisses of my discourse.”
“I
grant the permission,” said Phaedrus: “put your questions.” Socrates
then proceeded as follows:-
“In
the magnificent oration which you have just uttered, I think that you were
right, my dear Agathon, in proposing to speak of the nature of Love first
and afterwards of his works-that is a way of beginning which I very much
approve. And as you have spoken so eloquently of his nature, may I ask you
further, Whether love is the love of something or of nothing? And here I
must explain myself: I do not want you to say that love is the love of a
father or the love of a mother-that would be ridiculous; but to answer as
you would, if I asked is a father a father of something? to which you
would find no difficulty in replying, of a son or daughter: and the answer
would be right.”
“Very
true,” said Agathon.
“And
you would say the same of a mother?”
He
assented.
“Yet
let me ask you one more question in order to illustrate my meaning: Is not
a brother to be regarded essentially as a brother of something?”
“Certainly,”
he replied.
“That
is, of a brother or sister?”
“Yes,”
he said.
“And
now,” said Socrates, “I will ask about Love:-Is Love of something or
of nothing?”
“Of
something, surely,” he replied.
“Keep
in mind what this is, and tell me what I want to know – whether Love
desires that of which love is.”
“Yes,”
surely.
“And
does he possess, or does he not possess, that which he loves and
desires?”
“Probably
not, I should say.”
“Nay,”
replied Socrates, “I would have you consider whether ‘necessarily’
is not rather the word. The inference that he who desires something is in
want of something, and that he who desires nothing is in want of nothing,
is in my judgment, Agathon absolutely and necessarily true. What do you
think?”
“I
agree with you,” said Agathon.
“Very
good. Would he who is great, desire to be great, or he who is strong,
desire to be strong?”
“That
would be inconsistent with our previous admissions.”
“True.
For he who is anything cannot want to be that which he is?”
“Very
true.”
“And
yet, added Socrates, if a man being strong desired to be strong, or being
swift desired to be swift, or being healthy desired to be healthy, in that
case he might be thought to desire something which he already has or is. I
give the example in order that we may avoid misconception. For the
possessors of these qualities, Agathon, must be supposed to have their
respective advantages at the time, whether they choose or not; and who can
desire that which he has? Therefore when a person says, I am well and wish
to be well, or I am rich and wish to be rich, and I desire simply to have
what I have – to him we shall reply: ‘You, my friend, having wealth
and health and strength, want to have the continuance of them; for at this
moment, whether you choose or no, you have them. And when you say, I
desire that which I have and nothing else, is not your meaning that you
want to have what you now have in the future?’ He must agree with us –
must he not?”
“He
must,” replied Agathon.
“Then,”
said Socrates, “he desires that what he has at present may be preserved
to him in the future, which is equivalent to saying that he desires
something which is non-existent to him, and which as yet he has not
got.”
“Very
true,” he said.
“Then
he and every one who desires, desires that which he has not already, and
which is future and not present, and which he has not, and is not, and of
which he is in want – these are the sort of things which love and desire
seek?”
“Very
true,” he said.
“Then
now,” said Socrates, “let us recapitulate the argument. First, is not
love of something, and of something too which is wanting to a man?”
“Yes,”
he replied.
“Remember
further what you said in your speech, or if you do not remember I will
remind you: you said that the love of the beautiful set in order the
empire of the gods, for that of deformed things there is no love – did
you not say something of that kind?”
“Yes,”
said Agathon.
“Yes,
my friend, and the remark was a just one. And if this is true, Love is the
love of beauty and not of deformity?”
He
assented.
“And
the admission has been already made that Love is of something which a man
wants and has not?”
“True,”
he said.
“Then
Love wants and has not beauty?”
“Certainly,”
he replied.
“And
would you call that beautiful which wants and does not possess beauty?”
“Certainly
not.”
“Then
would you still say that love is beautiful?”
Agathon
replied: “I fear that I did not understand what I was saying.”
“You
made a very good speech, Agathon,” replied Socrates; “but there is yet
one small question which I would fain ask – Is not the good also the
beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“Then
in wanting the beautiful, love wants also the good?”
“I
cannot refute you, Socrates,” said Agathon. “Let us assume that what
you say is true.”
“Say rather, beloved Agathon, that you cannot refute the truth; for Socrates is easily refuted.”