Symposium

The position is this: no gods ensue wisdom or desire to be made wise; such they are already; nor does anyone else that is wise ensue it. Neither do the ignorant ensue wisdom, nor desire to be made wise: in this very point is ignorance distressing, when a person who is not comely or worthy or intelligent is satisfied with himself. The man who does not feel himself defective has no desire for that whereof he feels no defect.Who then, Diotima, I asked, are the followers of wisdom, if they are neither the wise nor the ignorant? Why, a child could tell by this time, she answered, that they are the intermediate sort, and amongst these also is Love. For wisdom has to do with the fairest things, and Love is a love directed to what is fair; so that Love must needs be a friend of wisdom, and, as such, must be between wise and ignorant. This again is a result for which he has to thank his origin: for while he comes of a wise and resourceful father, his mother is unwise and resourceless. Such, my good Socrates, is the nature of this spirit. That you should have formed your other notion of Love is no surprising accident. You supposed, if I am to take your own words as evidence, that the beloved and not the lover was Love. This led you, I fancy, to hold that Love is all-beautiful. The lovable, indeed, is the truly beautiful, tender, perfect, and heaven-blest; but the lover is of a different type, in accordance with the account I have given. Upon this I observed: Very well then, madam, you are right; but if Love is such as you describe him, of what use is he to mankind? That is the next question, Socrates, she replied, on which I will try to enlighten you. While Love is of such nature and origin as I have related, he is also set on beautiful things, as you say. Now, suppose some one were to ask us: In what respect is he Love of beautiful things, Socrates and Diotima? But let me put the question more clearly thus: What is the love of the lover of beautiful things? That they may be his, I replied. But your answer craves a further query, she said, such as this: What will he have who gets beautiful things? This question I declared I was quite unable now to answer offhand. Well, she proceeded, imagine that the object is changed, and the inquiry is made about the good instead of the beautiful. Come, Socrates (I shall say), what is the love of the lover of good things? That they may be his, I replied. And what will he have who gets good things?I can make more shift to answer this, I said; he will be happy.

Yes, she said, the happy are happy by acquisition of good things, and we have no more need to ask for what end a man wishes to be happy, when such is his wish: the answer seems to be ultimate. Quite true, I said. Now do you suppose this wish or this love to be common to all mankind, and that every one always wishes to have good things? Or what do you say? Even so, I said; it is common to all. Well then, Socrates, she said, we do not mean that all men love, when we say that all men love the same things always; we mean that some people love and others do not? I am wondering myself, I replied. But you should not wonder, she said; for we have singled out a certain form of love, and applying thereto the name of the whole, we call it love; and there are other names that we commonly abuse. As, for example—? I asked. Take the following: you know that poetry [*](Cf. above, Plat. Sym. 197a.) is more than a single thing. For of anything whatever that passes from not being into being the whole cause is composing or poetry; so that the productions of all arts are kinds of poetry, and their craftsmen are all poets. That is true. But still, as you are aware, said she, they are not called poets: they have other names, while a single section disparted from the whole of poetry—merely the business of music and meters—is entitled with the name of the whole. This and no more is called poetry; those only who possess this branch of the art are poets. Quite true, I said. Well, it is just the same with love. Generically, indeed, it is all that desire of good things and of being happy [*](Cf. above, Plat. Sym. 204e-205a.)—Love most mighty and all-beguiling. Yet, whereas those who resort to him in various other ways—in money-making, an inclination to sports, or philosophy—are not described either as loving or as lovers, all those who pursue him seriously in one of his several forms obtain, as loving and as lovers, the name of the whole. I fancy you are right, I said. >And certainly there runs a story, she continued, that all who go seeking their other half [*](A prophetic allusion to Aristophanes’ speech, Plat. Sym. 192ff.) are in love; though by my account love is neither for half nor for whole, unless, of course, my dear sir, this happens to be something good. For men are prepared to have their own feet and hands cut off if they feel these belongings to be harmful.

The fact is, I suppose, that each person does not cherish his belongings except where a man calls the good his own property and the bad another’s; since what men love is simply and solely the good. Or is your view otherwise?Faith, no, I said. Then we may state unreservedly that men love the good? Yes, I said. Well now, must we not extend it to this, that they love the good to be theirs? We must. And do they love it to be not merely theirs but theirs always? Include that also. Briefly then, said she, love loves the good to be one’s own for ever. That is the very truth, I said. Now if love is always for this, she proceeded, what is the method of those who pursue it, and what is the behavior whose eagerness and straining are to be termed love? What actually is this effort? Can you tell me? Ah, Diotima, I said; in that case I should hardly be admiring you and your wisdom, and sitting at your feet to be enlightened on just these questions. Well, I will tell you, said she; it is begetting on a beautiful thing by means of both the body and the soul. It wants some divination to make out what you mean, I said; I do not understand. Let me put it more clearly, she said. All men are pregnant, Socrates, both in body and in soul: on reaching a certain age our nature yearns to beget. This it cannot do upon an ugly person, but only on the beautiful: the conjunction of man and woman is a begetting for both. [*](The argument requires the application of begetting and other such terms indifferently to either sex.) It is a divine affair, this engendering and bringing to birth, an immortal element in the creature that is mortal; and it cannot occur in the discordant. The ugly is discordant with whatever is divine, whereas the beautiful is accordant. Thus Beauty presides over birth as Fate and Lady of Travail; and hence it is that when the pregnant approaches the beautiful it becomes not only gracious but so exhilarate, that it flows over with begetting and bringing forth; though when it meets the ugly it coils itself close in a sullen dismay: rebuffed and repressed, it brings not forth, but goes in labor with the burden of its young. Therefore when a person is big and teeming-ripe he feels himself in a sore flutter for the beautiful, because its possessor can relieve him of his heavy pangs. For you are wrong, Socrates, in supposing that love is of the beautiful. What then is it? It is of engendering and begetting upon the beautiful. Be it so, I said.

To be sure it is, she went on; and how of engendering? Because this is something ever-existent and immortal in our mortal life. From what has been admitted, we needs must yearn for immortality no less than for good, since love loves good to be one’s own for ever. And hence it necessarily follows that love is of immortality. All this instruction did I get from her at various times when she discoursed of love-matters; and one time she asked me, What do you suppose, Socrates, to be the cause of this love and desire? For you must have observed the strange state into which all the animals are thrown, whether going on earth or winging the air, when they desire to beget: they are all sick and amorously disposed, first to have union one with another, and next to find food for the new-born; in whose behalf they are ready to fight hard battles, even the weakest against the strongest, and to sacrifice their lives; to be racked with starvation themselves if they can but nurture their young, and be put to any sort of shift. As for men, said she, one might suppose they do these things on the promptings of reason; but what is the cause of this amorous condition in the animals? Can you tell me? Once more I replied that I did not know; so she proceeded: How do you design ever to become a master of love-matters, if you can form no notion of this? Why, it is just for this, I tell you, Diotima—as I stated a moment ago—that I have come to see you, because I noted my need of an instructor. Come, tell me the cause of these effects as well as of the others that have relation to love. Well then, she said, if you believe that love is by nature bent on what we have repeatedly admitted, you may cease to wonder. For here, too, on the same principle as before, the mortal nature ever seeks, as best it can, to be immortal. In one way only can it succeed, and that is by generation; since so it can always leave behind it a new creature in place of the old. It is only for a while that each live thing can be described as alive and the same, as a man is said to be the same person from childhood until he is advanced in years: yet though he is called the same he does not at any time possess the same properties; he is continually becoming a new person, and there are things also which he loses, as appears by his hair, his flesh, his bones, and his blood and body altogether. And observe that not only in his body but in his soul besides we find none of his manners or habits, his opinions, desires, pleasures, pains or fears, ever abiding the same in his particular self; some things grow in him, while others perish.