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.”