The philosopher Socrates attended a drinking party or symposium
at the home of the tragic poet Agathon, whose tragedy had just been
honored by a first prize in the competition in Athens. The party,
in fact, was in celebration of his victory. The guests decide to
spend the evening delivering speeches in praise of Eros, the Greek
god of Love. Our selection includes the speech of Agathon himself,
followed by Socrates' response. Agathon and Socrates each address
their speeches to another character present, Phaedrus, who originally
made the suggestion that encomia should be delivered to Love. One
of Socrates' followers, Aristodemus, who was present at the party,
reports what happened there.
"I would like to say first how I ought to speak, and then
to speak. All the previous speakers, instead of praising the god
Love, appear to me to have congratulated human beings on the goods
which the god causes, instead of saying what sort is he who gives
these gifts. I prefer to praise the god first, and then speak of
his gifts; this is always the right way of praising anything. Although
all the gods are happy, Love, if I may say so without impiety or
offense, is the happiest of all, since he is the most beautiful
and the best. And he is the most beautiful, for, in the first place,
he is the youngest, and he himself proves his youth, fleeing old
age, which is swift enough, swifter than it should be. Love hates
him and will not come near him. But Love always accompanies the
young, and is himself young, for the old saying is correct, 'like
approaches like.' Many things were said by Phaedrus about Love with
which I agree, but I cannot agree that he is older than Iapetus
and Cronos. I maintain him to be the youngest of the gods, and forever
young. The ancient doings among the gods of which Hesiod and Parmenides
spoke, if they are true, were done of Necessity and not Love. Had
Love been among them, there would have been no chaining or mutilation
of the gods, or other violence, but friendship and peace, as there
is now since Love became king of the gods.
"Love is young and also tender; he ought to have a poet such
as Homer to describe his tenderness. Homer describes Ate, a goddess,
as tender. Her feet, at any rate, are tender: 'Tender are her feet,
Not on the ground she walks but on the heads of men.' He gives an
excellent proof of her tenderness in that she walks not upon the
hard but upon the soft. Let us adduce a similar proof of the softness
of Love: he walks not upon the earth, nor yet upon skulls of men,
which are not very soft, but in the characters and souls of gods
and human beings, which are of all things the softest. In them he
walks and dwells and makes his home. Not even in every soul, for
where he finds a hard character he departs, and where he finds a
soft one he dwells. As he is always touching with his feet and in
all manner of ways the softest of the soft, he must be most tender.
"Besides being youngest and tenderest, he also is of supple
form. Otherwise he could not enfold all things, nor wind his way
unobserved into and out of every soul. A proof of his suppleness
and symmetry of form is the harmony of his figure, which is generally
admitted to be the case. Lack of harmony and love are always at
war with each another. The fairness of his complexion is revealed
by his living among the flowers. He dwells not amid bloomless or
fading beauties, whether of body or soul or anything else, but wherever
a place is blooming and scented he settles and remains.
"Concerning the beauty of the god this is enough, although
many things are omitted. Of his virtue I have now to speak: the
greatest thing is that Love neither commits injustice nor suffers
it from any god or human being. He suffers not by force if he suffers;
force does not touch him, nor when he acts does he act by force.
For all willingly serve him in everything, and whatever is willingly
agreed, as the kingly laws of the city say, is justice. And not
only is he just but exceedingly moderate: moderation is the acknowledged
ruler of the pleasures and desires, and no pleasure is stronger
than Love. That is, if other pleasures are weaker than Love, they
will be ruled by him, and if he rules them he must be moderate indeed.
"As to courage, even Ares [the Greek god of War] is no match
for him. Ares is the captive and Love is the captor, for Love, the
love of Aphrodite, captures him, as the tale goes. And the captor
is stronger than the captured. If Love dominates the bravest of
all others, he must be himself the bravest. Of his courage and justice
and moderation I have spoken, but I have yet to speak of his wisdom;
and to the best of my ability I must try to do so. In the first
place he is a poet (and here . . . I honor my own art), and he makes
poets of others, which he could not, if he were not himself a poet.
At his touch every one becomes a poet, even though he had no music
in him before. This also is a proof that Love is a good poet and
accomplished in all the fine arts; for no one can give to another
that which he has not himself, or teach that which he does not know.
Who will deny that the creation of the animals is the work his wisdom,
through which the animals are born and grow? And as to the arts,
do we not know that whomever this god teaches becomes renowned in
his craftsmanship and whomever he does not touch remains obscure?
The arts of archery, medicine, and divination were invented by Apollo,
under the guidance of desire and love; so that he too is a student
of Love, as are the Muses in music, Hephaestus in black smithing,
Athena in weaving, and Zeus in ruling over gods and human beings.
And so when Love came to be among them, the affairs of the gods
were ordered out of a love of beauty, for there is no love present
in ugliness. In the days of old, as I began by saying, dreadful
deeds were done among the gods, for they were ruled by Necessity;
but now since the birth of Love, and from the Love of the beautiful,
has sprung every good for gods and human beings.
"Therefore, Phaedrus, I say of Love that he is the most beautiful
and best in himself, and the cause of what is most beautiful and
best for others. And it occurs to me to speak in meter, Love is
the one who creates 'peace among human beings and calm on the open
sea and with the winds, and sleep for care.' He empties us of alienation,
fills us with intimacy, arranges our coming together at gatherings
such as this; in festivals, dances, and sacrifices, he is our guide,
supplying gentleness, banishing wildness; loving giver of kindness
and never of unkindness, gracious, good; a sight for the wise, admirable
to the gods; envied by those who have no share of him, and precious
to those who do; father of luxury, splendor, glory, graces, yearning,
and longing; caring for the good, with no care for evil; in toiling,
fearing, longing, speaking, the best governor, mariner, fellow fighter,
and savior; glory of gods and human beings, the fairest and best
leader, whom every man must follow, sweetly singing in his honor
and joining in the song Love sings as it charms the thought of gods
and human beings.
"Such is the speech, Phaedrus, partly playful, partly in measured
seriousness, which, according to my ability, I dedicate to the god."
When Agathon stopped speaking, all present applauded vigorously,
as the youth was thought to have spoken in a manner worthy of himself,
and of the god. And Socrates, looking at Eryximachus [another guest
at the symposium], said: "Tell me, son of Acumenus, was my
fear groundless and am I not prophetic when I said that Agathon
would make a wonderful oration, and that I should be at a loss?"
"The part about Agathon," replied Eryximachus, "was
prophetic, that Agathon would speak well, but, not the other part,
that you would be at a loss." "Why, you happy fellow,"
said Socrates, "must not I or anyone be at a loss after his
rich and varied speech? Although the rest was not quite so wonderful,
the bit at the end, who would not be thunderstruck on hearing the
beauty of its words and phrases? When I reflected that I would be
unable to speak so beautifully, I was ready to run away for shame,
if I had any place to go. For I was reminded of Gorgias [a famous
foreign rhetorician who taught in Athens], and I was affected according
to Homer's saying-that Agathon would send the head of the dread
speaker Gorgon and turn me and my speech to stone. And then I realized
how ridiculous I had been in agreeing to take my turn with you in
praising Love, and saying that I was skilled in matters of love,
when I really did not know how anything ought to be praised. For
in my stupidity I believed that the truth ought to be spoken about
whatever was praised, and that the speaker should choose the most
beautiful parts of the truth and set them forth in the most seemly
manner. And I felt quite proud, thinking that I should speak well
since I knew the truth about praising anything. Whereas I now see
that this was not meant by praising, but attributing to the praised
the greatest and most beautiful things possible, whether they were
so or not. And if the praise were false, it did not matter, for
the intention was not to really praise Love, but only to appear
to praise him. And so you say that he is of this or that sort, and
the cause of so many things, making him appear as beautiful and
good as possible, plainly to those who know him not, for you cannot
impose upon those who know him. And a beautiful and solemn praise
have you uttered.
"But as I did not know the meaning of praise and spoke in
ignorance when I said that I would take my turn, I must beg to call
it quits, for 'The tongue swore, but the mind did not,' [in the
words of the Greek tragedian Euripides]. I do not praise in that
way; no, indeed, I cannot. But if you would 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.
Decide 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."
[Aristodemus] said that Phaedrus and the company bid him speak in
any manner which he thought he should. "Then," [Socrates]
added, "let me first ask Agathon a few questions, in order
that I may take his admissions as the premises of my discourse."
"I grant it," said Phaedrus, "put your questions."
Socrates then proceeded as follows:
"You made a fine start to your speech, dear Agathon, proposing
to speak of what sort of being Love is, and then of his deeds. That
is a beginning which I very much admire. And as you have spoken
so well and eloquently of the rest, tell me this too, whether love
is the love of something or of nothing? I am not asking whether
[erotic] love is the love of a father or the love of a mother-that
would be ridiculous. But if I asked about a father, whether he is
a father of someone. To this you would find no difficulty in replying,
if you wanted to give a fine reply, that a father is the father
of a son or daughter. Isn't this so?" "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
that you might better understand my meaning. Is not a brother to
be regarded essentially as a brother of someone?" "Certainly,"
he replied. "That is, of a brother or sister?" "Yes,"
he said. "And now," Socrates said, "I will ask about
Love: Is Love of something or of nothing?" "Of something,
surely," he replied. "Keep in mind what this is, and only
tell me," Socrates asked, "whether Love, which is of something,
desires that of which it is." "Yes, surely." "And
is it when he has it, or when he does not have it, that which he
desires and loves, that he desires and loves it?" "Probably
he does not have it," he said.
"Think," replied Socrates, "whether that which desires
'necessarily' rather than 'probably' desires what it is in need
of, and does not desire unless it is in need. This seems to me wonderously
necessary, Agathon. How does it seem to you?" "I agree
with you," he said. "Very good. Would he who is tall,
desire to be tall, or strong, if he were strong?" "From
what we agreed upon, that would be impossible." "For he
who is anything is not in need of what 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 these cases and other such cases,
those who are such or have such things might be thought to desire
something which they already are or have. I give the example in
order that we may not deceive ourselves. For in such cases, Agathon,
who would desire each of those things that he necessarily has at
the moment when, whether he wishes it or not, he has it? Therefore
when a person says, I am healthy and wish to be healthy, or I am
rich and wish to be rich, and I desire what I have, we should address
him, 'Human being, having wealth and health and strength, you want
to have them also in the future, since at present, whether you wish
to or not, 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?" Aristodemus said that Agathon agreed.
"Then," said Socrates, "he desires that what he
has at present may be preserved for him in the future, which is
equivalent to saying that he desires something which is not at hand
for him, and which he does not yet have." "Very true,"
he said. "So he and every one who desires, desires what is
not present, and what he does not have, and what he is not, and
what he is in need of-these are the sort of things of which love
and desire are?" "Very true," he said.
"Then now," said Socrates, "let us draw up an agreement
about the argument. First, love is of something, and of something
of which the need is present to him." "Yes," he replied.
"Remember further what you said Love to be in your speech,
or if you like, I will remind you: you said that matters were arranged
by the gods through love of beautiful things, for that of ugly things
there is no love. Did you not say something of that kind?"
"Yes," said Agathon. "What you say is reasonable,
comrade," Socrates said. "And if this is true, Love is
the love of beauty and not of ugliness?" He assented. "And
it was agreed that what one is in need of and does not have, one
loves?" "Yes," he said. "Then Love needs and
has not beauty?" "Necessarily," he replied. "And
would you call that beautiful which needs and does not possess beauty?"
"Certainly not." "Then would you still say that love
Agathon replied, "I fear that I did not understand what I
was saying." And yet you spoke beautifully, Agathon,"
he said. "But tell me about yet one small point: are not the
good also beautiful?" "Yes." "Then in needing
the beautiful, since the good things are beautiful, Love needs also
the good?" "I cannot refute you, Socrates," he said,
"let it be as you say." "Say rather, dear Agathon,
that you cannot refute the truth, for Socrates is easily refuted."
"And letting you go for now, I would turn to a speech about
Love that I heard from Diotima of Mantineia, a woman wise in this
and in many other matters. When the Athenians once offered sacrifice
before the plague, she caused the delay of the disease for ten years.
She was my teacher in love matters, and I shall repeat to you what
she said to me, beginning with the admissions made by Agathon and
myself, and I shall try to do it on my own, the best I can. As you,
Agathon, suggested, I must speak first of who Love is and what sort
he is, and then of his deeds. It seems to me easiest to do this
in the same way as the stranger once did in questioning me.
"First I said to her nearly the same sort of things that Agathon
said to me, that Love was a great god, and was the love of beautiful
things. She then refuted me with the same arguments with which I
refuted him, that, by my own argument, Love was neither beautiful
nor good. 'What do you mean, Diotima,' I said, 'is Love then ugly
and bad?' 'Hush,' she cried; 'must that be ugly which is not beautiful?'
'Certainly,' I said. 'And is that which is not wise, ignorant? do
you not see that there is a mean between wisdom and ignorance?'
'And what may that be?' I said. 'Correct opinion,' she replied;
'which, as you know, being incapable of giving an account [or explanation],
is not knowledge, for how can knowledge be devoid of reason? Nor
again, is correct opinion ignorance, for neither can ignorance hit
upon what is. But clearly correct opinion is something which is
a mean between intelligence and ignorance.' 'Quite true,' I replied.
'Do not then force,' she said, 'what is not beautiful to be of necessity
ugly, nor what is not good to be bad. Since you yourself agree that
Love is not good or beautiful, do not believe that he must be ugly
and bad, but something between the two.'
"'Well,' I said, 'Love is surely admitted by all to be a great
god.' 'By those who know or by those who do not know?' 'By all.'
'And how, Socrates,' she said with a laugh, 'can Love be acknowledged
to be a great god by those who say that he is not a god at all?'
'And who are they?' I said. 'You are one, and I am one,' she replied.
'How can you say this?' I said. 'It is easy,' she replied; 'for
you yourself would acknowledge that the gods are happy and beautiful-or
would you dare to deny that any god is happy and beautiful?' 'By
Zeus, no,' I replied. 'And you mean by the happy, those who possess
beautiful and good things?' 'Yes.' 'And you admitted that Love,
because he is in need of beautiful and good things desires those
things of which he is in need?' 'Yes, I did' 'But how can he be
a god who has no share in what is either good or beautiful?' 'In
no way.' 'Do you see,' she said, 'that you also hold that Love is
not a god?'
"'What then is Love?' I asked, 'is he mortal?' 'Hardly.' 'What
then?' 'As in the former instance, he is between mortal and immortal.'
'What is he, Diotima?' 'He is a great daemon, and everything daemonic
lies between god and mortal.' 'And what,' I said, 'is his power?'
'He interprets and conveys' she replied, ' the prayers and sacrifices
of human beings to the gods, and the commands and exchanges-for-sacrifices
from the gods to human beings. He is thus in the middle of both,
and therefore through him all is bound together, and through him
proceeds divination and the art of the priests, their sacrifices
and initiations and charms, and all prophecy and magic. For god
does not mingle with human beings, but through Love all the intercourse
and conversation between god and human, whether awake or asleep,
is carried on. The one wise in such things is a daemonic man, and
while those wise in other things, such as those concerning arts
and handicrafts, are mean and vulgar. Now these daemons are many
and diverse, and one of them is Love.'
"'And who,' I said, 'is his father, and who his mother?' 'The
tale,' she said, 'is rather long; nevertheless I will tell you.
When Aphrodite was born, there was a feast of the gods, attended
by all the rest of the gods, as well as Resource, son of Metis.
When the feast was over, Poverty, as the manner is on such occasions,
came about the doors to beg. Now Resource got drunk on nectar (there
was no wine in those days), went into the garden of Zeus and fell
into a heavy sleep, and Poverty considering her own lack of resources,
plotted to have a child by Resource. Accordingly she lay down at
his side and conceived Love. Love therefore is [Aphrodite's] follower
and attendant, as he was conceived on her day of birth, and he is
a lover of the beautiful, for Aphrodite is beautiful.
"'Because Love is the son of Resource and Poverty, his situation
is this: In the first place, he is always poor, and anything but
tender and beautiful, as the many believe him; and he is tough and
squalid, and has no shoes, nor a house to dwell in; exposed on the
bare earth, he lies in the open air, in the streets, or before the
doors of houses, taking his rest; and like his mother he is always
in need. Like his father too, whom he also partly resembles, he
is always plotting to trap the beautiful and the good; he is courageous,
enterprising, strong, a skilled hunter, always weaving devices,
desirous of practical wisdom, inventive; philosophizing throughout
life, skilled as a magician, druggist, sophist. He is by nature
neither mortal nor immortal, but alive and flourishing at one moment
when he has resources, and dead at another moment, and again alive
by reason of his father's nature. That which is always supplied
to him is always flowing out, and so he is never in need and never
in wealth; and, further, he is a mean between wisdom and ignorance.
"'It is thus: no god philosophizes or desires to become wise,
for he is wise already; nor does anyone else who is wise seek after
wisdom. Neither do the ignorant philosophize or desire to become
wise. For this is the difficulty of ignorance-that he who is not
beautiful or good, not intelligent, is nevertheless satisfied with
himself. He has no desire for that of which he feels no need.' 'But
who then, Diotima,' I said, 'are the philosophers, if they are neither
the wise nor the ignorant?' 'A child may answer that question,'
she replied; 'they are those who are between the two. Love is one
of them. For wisdom is one of the most beautiful things, and Love
is of the beautiful; and therefore Love is also a philosopher or
lover of wisdom; and being a philosopher, he falls between being
wise and being ignorant. And of this too his birth is the cause,
for his father is wise and resourceful, and his mother poor and
foolish. Such, dear Socrates, is the nature of the daemon Love.
"'The opinion of Love you had is not surprising, for, as I
conjecture from what you say, you believed that the beloved rather
than the lover is Love, which made you suppose that love was all
beautiful. For the beloved is the truly beautiful, and delicate,
and perfect, and blessed; but the one who loves is of another form,
and is such as I have described.' I said, 'Stranger woman, you speak
beautifully, but, assuming Love to be such as you say, what use
is he to human beings?'
"'That, Socrates,' she replied, 'I will attempt to teach you:
Love is the sort I have described, and was born as I have said,
and he is of the beautiful things, as you acknowledge. But some
one will say: "What are these beautiful things, Socrates and
Diotima?" Or let me more clearly express it: when one loves
the beautiful things what does he love?' I answered her 'That they
be his.' 'Still,' she said, 'the answer suggests a further question:
What will he have who possesses beautiful things?' 'To what you
have asked,' I replied, 'I have no answer ready.'
"'What if someone were to put the word 'good' in the place
of the beautiful, she said, and repeat the question once more: "Socrates,
what does someone who loves the good things love?"' 'That they
be his,' I said. '"And what does he gain who possesses the
good?"' 'There is less difficulty in answering that question,'
I replied. 'He will be happy.' 'Yes,' she said, 'the happy are made
happy by the acquisition of good things. Nor is there any need to
ask why a man desires to be happy, the answer is already final.'
'You are right.' I said. 'And is this wish and this love common
to all? and do all human beings want the good things to be theirs
always? What do you say?' 'The desire is common to all.' 'Why, then,'
she rejoined, 'given that all human beings are always loving the
same things, why are not all, Socrates, said to love, but only some?'
'I myself wonder,' I said, 'why this is.' 'Don't wonder,' she replied;
'for we separate off from Love one kind of Love and give it the
name of Love, imposing upon it the name of the whole, and give other
parts other names.'
"'Give an illustration,' I said. 'There is poetry, which, as
you know, is complex; and manifold. All creation or passage of non-being
into being is poetry or making, and all the productions of art are
makings, and the craftsmen are poets [or makers].' 'Very true.'
'Still,' she said, 'you know that all craftsmen are not called poets,
but have other names; only that portion of making which is separated
off from the rest, and is concerned with music and meter, is addressed
by the name of the whole. This alone is called poetry, and they
who possess poetry in this sense of the word are called poets.'
'Very true,' I said. 'And the same holds of Love. For Love is the
whole desire of good things and of being happy, the great and subtle
power Love, but they who are drawn towards him by any other path,
whether the path of money-making, or gymnastics or philosophy, are
neither said to love nor are they called lovers. The name of the
whole is used of those whose affection takes one form only. They
alone are said to love, or to be lovers.' 'I dare say,' I replied,
'that you are right.' 'Yes,' she added, 'there is an account that
lovers are searching for their other half; but I say that they are
seeking neither the half of themselves, nor the whole, unless the
half or the whole is also good. And they will cut off their own
hands and feet, if they think their own is not good, for they love
not what is their own, unless there be some one who calls what belongs
to him the good, and what is alien bad. For there is nothing which
human beings love but the good. Or do you think that there is there
"'No, by Zeus,' I said. 'Then,' she said, 'is it not to be
said simply that human beings love the good?' 'Yes,' I said. 'To
which must be added that they love the good to be theirs?' 'Yes,
that must be added.' 'And not only that it be theirs, but that it
be theirs forever?' 'That must be added too.' 'Then love,' she said,
'may be described generally as the love of the good's being one's
own forever?' 'That is most true.' 'Then if this be love, can you
tell me further,' she said, 'what is the manner of the pursuit?
what are they doing who show all this eagerness and intensity that
is called love? and what is their activity? Answer me.' 'Diotima,'
I replied, 'if I could, I should not have wondered at your wisdom,
and come to you to learn about this very matter.' 'Well,' she said,
'I will tell you. Their work is giving birth in the presence of
beauty, whether of body or soul.'
"'What you mean requires divination,' I said. 'I will make
my meaning clearer,' she replied. 'I mean to say, that all human
beings conceive in their bodies and in their souls. There is a certain
age at which human nature desires to give birth, which takes place
in beauty and not in ugliness. The intercourse of man and woman
is a giving birth, and is a divine thing, something immortal in
what is mortal. It is impossible for this to occur in the inharmonious,
and the ugly is always inharmonious with the divine, and the beautiful
harmonious. Beauty, then, is the Fate who presides over birth. When
approaching beauty, the pregnant becomes glad and, rejoicing, flows
over and gives birth and produces offspring. But whenever it draws
near to ugliness, downcast and in pain, it contracts and shrivels
up, and does not produce offspring. And this is why someone who
is pregnant, full to bursting, flutters around beauty, because its
possessor can relieve him from labor pains. For Love, Socrates,
is not, as you imagine, the love of the beautiful.'
"'What then?' 'The love of engendering and giving birth in
beauty.' 'All right,' I said. 'It is more than all right,' she replied.
'And why is Love of engendering?' 'Because engendering is a sort
of eternity and immortality, as far as possible for a mortal being,'
she replied. 'And, from what has been agreed to, that love is of
the good's being one's own forever, desire seeks immortality together
with the good. Therefore love is of immortality.'
"All this she taught me at various times when she spoke of
love matters. And once she also asked, 'What do you believe is the
cause, Socrates, of this love and desire? Do you not see how strange
all animals, birds as well as beasts, act in their desire to produce
offspring? They are diseased and erotically infected, first concerning
intercourse with one another, and then concerning the nurture of
what is generated. They are ready to fight to the finish, the weakest
against the strongest, for the sake of those they have generated,
and even to die for them, and are willingly tormented with hunger
or suffer anything in order to nourish their offspring. One might
suppose,' she said, 'that human beings do this from reason; but
why would the erotic disposition of animals be of this sort? Can
you say?' Again I replied that I did not know. She said to me: 'And
do you expect ever to become skilled in erotic matters if you do
not understand this?' 'But I have told you already, Diotima, this
is why I have come to you-knowing that I need teachers. Tell me
then the cause of this and of other love matters.'
"'Do not persist in wondering,' she said, 'if you trust that
love is by nature as we have often agreed. For here again, by the
same argument, the mortal nature is seeking as far as is possible
to be forever immortal. This is only to be attained by generation,
because generation always leaves behind another that is young in
the place of the old. And even in the life of an individual, although
he is a called the same from the time he is a child until old age,
he is always becoming young in some ways and suffers loss in other
ways-hair, flesh, bones, blood, and the whole body. This is true
not only of the body, but also of the soul, whose habits, character,
opinions, desires, pleasures, pains, and fears, never remain the
same, but are always coming to be and perishing. And what is even
stranger is that in the case of our knowledge too we are never the
same, for our knowledge is ever springing up and decaying. We do
what we call study on the assumption that our knowledge is always
passing away. Forgetting is the passing away of our knowledge, and
studying preserves knowledge by producing a new memory to replace
the one departing, so that our knowledge seems the same. In this
way every mortal thing is preserved, not by being absolutely the
same always, as the divine is, but by leaving behind another that
is new and similar in the place of the old. By this device, Socrates,
the mortal shares in immortality, both with respect to body and
other things, but the immortal has a different way. So do not wonder
if everything by nature honors its own offspring, for all this earnestness
and love is for the sake of immortality.'
"I wondered at her words, and said: 'Is this really true, wisest
Diotima?' And she answered like the perfect sophists, 'Know it well,
Socrates, since if you looked at human beings and their love of
honor you would be amazed at their irrationality unless you keep
in mind what I have said and how terribly they are stirred by the
love of renown and establishing their immortal fame for all eternity.
They are ready to run risks for this even far greater than for their
children, and to spend money and undergo any sort of toil, and even
to die. Do you suppose that Alcestis would have died for the sake
of Admetus, or Achilles would have died after Patroclus, or your
own Codrus would have given his life in order to preserve the kingdom
for his children, if they had not believed that the memory of their
virtue, which still survives among us, would be immortal? Far from
it,' she said. 'I believe that all do all things for the sake of
immortal virtue and a famous reputation of that kind, and that the
better they are the more they do this, for they desire the immortal.
Those who are pregnant in the body only,' she said, 'turn to women
and procreate children. This is the way in which they are erotic,
providing themselves, they believe, with immortality, memory, and
happiness for all future time. But others are pregnant in their
souls, for they in their souls more than in their bodies conceive
those things which are proper for soul to conceive and bear. And
what is appropriate for soul? Prudence and the rest of virtue. It
is these things that all the poets and all the craftsmen who are
said to be inventors, generate. By far the greatest and the most
beautiful part of prudence,' she said, 'is concerned with arranging
and bringing order to states and families. Its name is moderation
"'He who in youth onward is pregnant in his soul with these
virtues, if he is divine and comes to maturity, desires to give
birth and produce offspring. He goes about in search of the beautiful
in which he might generate, for he will never generate in the ugly.
Because he is pregnant, he embraces beautiful rather than ugly bodies,
and if he finds a beautiful, generous, and gifted soul, he embraces
the two [body and soul] together, and to such a one he becomes resourceful
in speaking about virtue and what sort the good man must be and
what his pursuits should be, and he tries to educate him. In touching
and associating with the beautiful, I believe, whom he holds in
memory whether he is present or absent, he engenders and give birth
to offspring with which he had been long pregnant. And they nurture
together what has been generated in common. They have a tie far
greater and a friendship firmer than those who have children in
common, because the children they share are more beautiful and immortal.
"'When anyone thinks of Homer and Hesiod and other good poets,
he would rather have children like theirs than human ones, and would
envy them for the offspring they leave behind, who supply them with
immortal fame and memory. Or if you wish, she said, think of the
children Lycurgus left behind in Sparta, preservers of the Spartans
and, so to speak, of all Greece. Solon too is honored among you
for begetting laws, and many others in many other places, both among
Greeks and barbarians, who have made manifest many beautiful deeds,
and have begotten virtue of every kind. Many temples have been dedicated
for the sake of such children as theirs, whereas for the human sort
none have ever yet been dedicated.
"'Into these love matters, even you, Socrates, may be initiated,
but I do not know if you are capable of the greater ones, to which
these, if pursued rightly, are the means. But I will tell you. Try
to follow if you can. For he who would proceed aright in this matter
should begin in youth to visit beautiful bodies, and first, if his
guide guides properly, he must love only one such body, and there
engender beautiful speeches. Soon he will of himself perceive that
the beauty of one body is akin to the beauty of another; and then
if he is to pursue beauty of form, how foolish would he be not to
recognize that the beauty in every body is the same. And when he
understands this he will abate his violent love of one, which he
will despise and suppose a small thing, and will become a lover
of all beautiful bodies. In the next stage he will consider that
the beauty of the soul is more honorable than that of body. So that
if someone with a decent soul have but a little youthful bloom,
he will be content to love and cherish him, and will search out
and give birth to speeches that will make the young better, until
he is compelled to behold the beauty in pursuits and laws, and to
understand that all this beauty is akin, and that beauty of the
body is a trifle.
"'And after these pursuits, he will be led to different kinds
of knowledge, that he may see their beauty, being not like a lackey
in love with the beauty of one boy or human being, or practice,
not a mean and narrow-minded slave, but drawing towards and contemplating
the vast sea of beauty, he will give birth to beautiful and magnificent
speeches and thoughts in ungrudging philosophy, until there he grows
and waxes strong, and at last sees a certain single knowledge that
has as its object beauty of the following kind. Try to pay attention
to me as far as you are able.
"'He who has been instructed thus far in love matters, seeing
beautiful things in due order and succession, when he comes toward
the end of erotic matters will suddenly behold a nature of wondrous
beauty (and this, Socrates, is that for the sake of which were our
former labors). In the first place, it is everlasting, not growing
and decaying, or waxing and waning; secondly, not beautiful in one
point of view and ugly in another, or at one time or in one relation
or at one place beautiful, at another time or in another relation
or at another place ugly, as if beautiful to some and ugly to others,
nor in the likeness of a face or hands or of anything else in which
body shares, or in any speech or knowledge, or existing in any other
being, as for example, in an animal, or in heaven or in earth, or
in any other place; but beauty itself for itself and with itself,
always of a single form, which without diminution and without increase,
or any change, is imparted to the ever-growing and perishing beauties
of all other things. . . . To proceed correctly, or to be led by
another, to erotic matters is to begin from the beautiful things
here and mount upwards for the sake of that other beauty, using
these as steps only, and from one going on to two, and from two
to all beautiful bodies, and from beautiful bodies to beautiful
practices, and from beautiful practices to beautiful lessons, until
from beautiful lessons one arrives at the lesson of beauty itself,
and at last knows what beauty itself is.
"'This life, dear Socrates,' said the stranger woman from
Mantineia, 'is worth living for a human being, if any is, contemplating
beauty itself, which if you once beheld, would seem incomparable
to gold, and garments, and beautiful boys and youths, whose sight
now entrances you. You and many others would be content to live
seeing only the beloved, and always being with him, going without
meat or drink, if that were possible. But what if one saw beauty
itself, pure and clear, and unmixed, simple and divine, unpolluted
with human flesh, and colors, and mortal nonsense? Don't you realize,'
she said, 'that in beholding beauty in the way that it can be seen,
one will be enabled to bring forth, not phantom images of virtue
(for he does not lay hold of a phantom), but true (because he lays
hold of the true), and bringing forth and nurturing true virtue,
he can become dear to the god and, as far as it is possible for
any human being, to become immortal, as well?'
"Such, Phaedrus and you others, is what Diotima told me, and
I am persuaded. Being persuaded, I try to persuade others that in
the attainment of this, human nature will not easily find a helper
better than love. Therefore, every man ought to honor Love, as I
myself honor erotic matters, train myself exceptionally in them,
exhort others to do the same, and now and always praise the power
and courage of love as far as I am able. Regard this speech, Phaedrus,
if you wish as an encomium to Love, or if not, call it whatever
name you please."