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[172] Apollodorus: Actually, I think I am well prepared to answer your question. The day before yesterday
I was going from my home in Phalerum to the city when a friend of mine saw me from behind at a distance.
He was in a jovial mood, so he shouted in an official voice.
Friend: You, the man from Phalerum, halt!
Apollodorus: I stopped and allowed him to catch up with me.
Friend: Apollodorus, I was just looking for you. I want to hear about the party at Agathon’s house. Tell me
about the speeches on love made by Socrates, Alcibiades, and the others who were there. I was talking to
someone who heard the story from Phoenix, the son of Philip, but his account was muddled. He said that
you might know the story, so I thought you would be the best one to report the words of your dear friend
Socrates. But first, tell me, were you really at the party?
Apollodorus: His account was certainly muddled if it led you to believe that the party was recent and that I
could have been there.
Friend: That’s the story I heard.
Apollodorus: Agathon has not been in Athens for several years. Also, it has been fewer than three years
since I have been following Socrates around and hanging on his every word and action. [173] Before that I
ran around aimlessly, thinking I was doing something important, but I was worse off than anyone else. In
those days I would have done anything rather than pursue philosophy. I was a lot like you are now!
Friend: Apollodorus, please stop making fun of me and tell me when the party actually took place.
Apollodorus: My friend, you and I were still children at the time — it was when Agathon won the prize for
his first tragedy— the day after he and members of his cast had already celebrated their victory.
Friend: That was a long time ago. But tell me, was it Socrates who told you the story?
Apollodorus: No, it was not Socrates but Aristodemus of Cydathenaeum. He was at the party. He is the
same person who told Phoenix. Aristodemus is the little guy who always went barefoot and seemed more
devoted to Socrates than anyone else in those days. Later, I was able to confirm some parts of his account
with Socrates.
Friend: Then please tell me the whole story while we walk to Athens. It is a good way to pass the time.
Apollodorus: If you want to hear it, I am well rehearsed to recount the speeches. I love to philosophize and
even hear others do so. It is both pleasurable and profitable — much more so than all the talk about making
money I hear from you rich people, which I find boring. I feel sorry for friends like you who believe you
are working hard when you are actually doing nothing. No doubt you also feel sorry for me, and I may be
in a bad way, as you think I am. But I don’t merely think that of you, I know it.
Friend: I see you are the same as ever, Apollodorus — always finding fault with yourself and with
everybody else. I think you pity yourself and every other human being, with the exception of Socrates. I’m
not sure how you came to be called “Apollodorus the madman,” but you deserve it when you are always
ranting and raving against yourself and everybody but Socrates.
Apollodorus: Well, my friend, then it’s obvious that I am out of my mind! Why else would I have such
ideas about myself as well as the rest of you?
Friend: It’s not worth arguing about that now, Apollodorus. We agreed that you would give me a full
report on those speeches about love.
Apollodorus: Well, they went something like this — but perhaps it would be best for me to begin at the
beginning and try to give you the whole story as it was told to me. [174] Aristodemus said he met Socrates,
who had just taken a bath and was wearing elegant sandals, which was unusual. He asked where he was
going all dressed up.
Socrates: I’m going to a dinner party at Agathon’s house. I missed the celebration yesterday, because I
dread crowds and avoid them when I can, so I promised I would come today instead. I dressed this way to
honor my handsome host. Wouldn’t you like to join me, even though you were not invited?
Aristodemus: I would, if you think it is all right.
Socrates: Follow me then, and we will challenge the proverb that says:
To the feasts of lesser men the good unbidden go.
We will replace it with a new saying:
To the feasts of the good unbidden go the good.
Homer’s authority supports this change. He not only challenges but actually contradicts the old proverb.
After presenting Agamemnon as the most courageous of people, he has Menelaus, a “cowardly spearman,”
come uninvited to the sacrificial feast of Agamemnon — the worse to the better.i
Aristodemus: Socrates, I’m afraid I will be the inferior person who, like Menelaus in Homer,
To the feasts of the wise unbidden goes.
I will say that you invited me, so you will have to explain my presence.
Socrates: “Two going together,” as Homer puts it, can invent an excuse on the way.ii
Apollodorus: Following that conversation, they headed for the party. But along the way, Socrates became
absorbed in his own thoughts and fell behind. When Aristodemus tried to wait for him, Socrates
encouraged him to go on ahead. When he reached Agathon’s house, the doors were wide open. To his
amazement, a servant came out to meet him and led him into the dining room where the guests where lying
on couches and the banquet was about to begin. Then Agathon greeted him.
Agathon: Welcome, Aristodemus! You are just in time to dine with us. If you came on some other business,
it will have to wait. I looked for you yesterday so I could invite you, but you were nowhere to be found. I’m
surprised — why are you not with Socrates?
Aristodemus: He was actually the one who invited me. But he seems to have disappeared along the way.
Agathon: You were quite right to come. But where is he now? [175]
Aristodemus: He was right behind me, but I have no idea where he is.
Agathon: I’ll send a servant to look for him. Boy, go find Socrates and bring him here. Now, Aristodemus,
take that place next to Eryximachus.
Apollodorus: Aristodemus said that another servant helped him wash up, and he took his place at the table.
Then the first servant returned to report that Socrates was standing on the neighbor’s porch. He had called
to Socrates several times, but he wouldn’t stir.
Agathon: How strange. Go back and keep calling him until he responds!
Aristodemus: No, Agathon, leave him alone. He has a habit of stopping anywhere and losing himself in
thought. Don’t disturb him, and I’m sure he will come in soon.
Agathon: Well, if you say so, we will let him be. All right, boys, put on the table whatever you think best.
Do it as you do when there is nobody to give you orders, which I never do. Imagine that you are the hosts
and that we are your guests. Treat us well, and we will praise you.
Apollodorus: They went ahead with the meal, and several times Agathon said that he would like to send for
Socrates, but Aristodemus would not allow it. When they were about halfway through the dinner, Socrates
came in.
Agathon: Socrates, I’m all alone at this end of the table. Please come sit next to me, so I can touch you and
share the wisdom that entered your mind on my neighbor’s porch. I’m sure you discovered what you were
seeking, or you would still be there.
Socrates: Agathon, I am happy to join you, and I do wish that wisdom were the kind of thing that could be
shared by touching — from one of us who is full to the other who is empty, the way a wick sucks water
from one cup into another. If that were true, I would be especially delighted to sit next to you, because you
would soon fill me with your beautiful and plentiful wisdom. My own, by contrast, is meager and
questionable, no better than a dream. But yours is bright and promising and radiates powerfully in spite of
your youth, as was evident the day before yesterday in the presence of more than thirty thousand Greeks.
Agathon: Socrates, you are embarrassing me! Later on you and I will take the case of our wisdom to court,
and Dionysus will be the judge. Right now you should pay attention to your dinner. [176]
Apollodorus: Socrates took his place on the couch, and when the meal was over, they offered libations and
sang a hymn to the god and performed the usual ceremonies. When they were about to start drinking,
Pausanias intervened.
Pausanias: Gentlemen, I think we should talk about how to manage our drinking tonight. We had quite a
day of it yesterday, and I think most us are all still suffering. Perhaps we should take it easy so that we can
recover.
Aristophanes: I second the motion, Pausanias! Speaking as one who got soaked yesterday. I think we need
a plan for tonight.
Eryximachus: I agree with you, Aristophanes, but I would like to hear from one more person. What about
you, Agathon, are you up for heavy drinking?
Agathon: Not me. I have to take it easy.
Eryximachus: That’s good news for me, for Aristodemus, for Phaedrus, and for a few others who always
have to take it easy. If the serious drinkers are being cautious, you can imagine where that leaves us after
last night’s celebration. Of course, I’m not talking about Socrates who is in a class by himself; he will be
content either way. Since nobody is inclined to drink much today, this give me a good opportunity to speak
as a physician. Through my medical work I have come to the conclusion that heavy drinking is a bad
practice, which I always try to avoid and never recommend to other people, especially anyone who is still
suffering from previous excess.
Phaedrus: Eryximachus, I always do what you say, especially when you are giving medical advice. If the
rest of you are wise, you will do the same.
Apollodorus: When Phaedrus finished speaking, everyone agreed that they should drink only as much as
they pleased and not be forced to take more. Eryximachus then proposed a different agenda.
Eryximachus: Now that we have agreed that tonight drinking will be voluntary, I move that the flute girl
who has just performed be sent away. She can play to herself or to the women of the house. But today let’s
agree to have conversation instead, and if you permit, I will suggest a topic. [177]
[All agree.]
Eryximachus: I begin by following Euripides’ Melanippe in saying, “not mine the word” which I am about
to speak but that of Phaedrus. He has often complained that other gods have many poems and hymns made
in their honor, but the great and glorious god of love has none offered by the poets nor by the professional
educators such as the great Prodicus, who have written endlessly about the virtues of Heracles and other
great heroes. Recently I even found a book written in eloquent prose by a wise man praising the utility of
salt — and that’s only one example from many. People spend much time and interest on such trivia yet, as
Phaedrus rightly reminds us, nobody has written a proper hymn in praise of Eros. This mighty god has been
completely ignored. So, I would like to contribute by honoring this god and by inviting the rest of you to do
the same. If you agree, we will have plenty of conversation to fill the evening. I propose that each of us
give a speech in praise of love. Let’s all do our best, beginning on my left with Phaedrus, who is at the head
of the table and the father of these words.
Socrates: Eryximachus, nobody will vote against your proposal. I for one, could not refuse to speak on the
only subject I claim to know. Agathon and Pausanias will surely agree, and there is no doubt about
Aristophanes, who spends all his time with Dionysus and Aphrodite. As I look around the room, there is
not one of us who would disagree. It will be difficult for those of us whose turn is last, but we won’t
complain as long as the others before us make some good speeches. So I say good luck to you Phaedrus as
you begin our praise of love! [178]
[All agree.]
Apollodorus: Aristodemus did not remember everything that was said, and I don’t remember everything he
told me; but I will recount the speeches that were particularly worthwhile and what was especially
memorable about them. Phaedrus was the first.
Phaedrus: Eros is a great god, admirable both among gods and human beings, especially because of his
birth. That he is among the oldest of the gods is evident from the lack of poetry or myth naming his parents
or indicating that he had any. As Hesiod says:
First Chaos came, and then broad-bosomed Earth,
The everlasting seat of all that is,
And Eros.iii
And Acusilaus is in full agreement with Hesiod, saying that after Chaos, Earth and Eros were born.
Parmenides also sings of the generation of the gods:
First of all gods, Eros was conceived.
Therefore, many sources speak with a single voice to affirm that love is ancient among gods, and is also the
source of the greatest benefits to us. I cannot imagine a greater good than having a youth to love, or for a
youth to have a proper lover. What ought to guide those who want to live a beautiful life will not be family
ties, high honors, or wealth, nor anything else but will be most perfectly provided by love. What do I mean
by that? I mean the sense of shame for the disgraceful and the desire for beauty. Without these neither
republics nor individuals can ever achieve great or noble work. I say that if someone who loves is observed
doing something disgraceful or submitting through cowardice when subjected to a shameful act, neither
being seen by one’s father, friends, or anyone else will be as painful as being seen by one’s lover. The same
is true of the person who is loved, who would be equally shamed by the gaze of the lover when caught in a
disgraceful act. If it were possible for a republic or an army to be comprised of lovers and the people they
love, they would be the best citizens, abstaining from everything disgraceful and competing with each other
in noble deeds. Fighting at each other’s side, even only a handful of them could conquer the world. [179] A
man would rather have anyone but the one he loves see him abandon his post or throw away his arms — he
would rather die a thousand deaths. Who would desert a lover or fail to defend the loved one in danger?
Inspired by love, even the most abject coward would become a hero and stand alongside the most brave. As
Homer says, the courage that the god breaths into the soul of heroes, love infuses into the lover."

Read a Sample Chapter

Plato's Symposium

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By Allan David Bloom

University of Chicago Press

Copyright © 2001 Allan David Bloom
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0226042758

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Plato's Symposium

Apollodorus. In my opinion, I am not unprepared for what you ask about; for just the other day--when I was on my way up to town from my home in Phaleron--one of my acquaintances spotted me a long way off from behind and called, playing with his call: "Phalerian," he said. "You there, Apollodorus, aren't you going to wait?" And I stopped and let him catch up. And he said, "Apollodorus, why, it was just recently that I was looking for you; I had wanted to question you closely about Agathon's party--the one at which Socrates, Alcibiades, and the others were then present at dinner together--to question you about the erotic speeches. What were they? Someone else who had heard about the party from Phoenix the son of Philippus was telling me about it, and he said that you too knew. As a matter of fact, there wasn't anything he could say with certainty. So you tell me, for it is most just that you report the speeches of your comrade. But first," he said, "tell me, were you yourself present at this party or not?" And I said, "It really does seem as if there were nothing certain in what your informant told you, if you believe that this party which you are asking about occurred so recently that I too was present.""That is indeed what I believed," hesaid. "But how could that be, Glaucon?" I said. "Don't you know that it has been many years since Agathon resided here, but that it is scarcely three years now that I have been spending my time with Socrates and have made it my concern on each and every day to know whatever he says or does? Before that, I used to run round and round aimlessly, and though I believed I was doing something of importance, I was more miserable than anyone in the world (no less than you are at this moment), for I believed that everything was preferable to philosophy." And he said, "Don't mock me now, but tell me when this party did occur." And I said, "When we were still boys, at the time of Agathon's victory with his first tragedy, on the day after he and his choral dancers celebrated the victory sacrifice." "Oh," he said, "a very long time ago, it seems. But who told you? Was it Socrates himself ?""No, by Zeus," I said, "but the same one who told Phoenix. It was a certain Aristodemus, a Kydathenean, little and always unshod. He had been present at the party and, in my opinion, was the one most in love with Socrates at that time. Not, however, that I have not asked Socrates too about some points that I had heard from Aristodemus; and Socrates agreed to just what Aristodemus narrated.""Why, then," Glaucon said, "don't you tell me? The way to town, in any case, is as suitable for speaking, while we walk, as for listening."

So as we walked, we talked together about these things; and so, just as I said at the start, I am not unprepared. If it must be told to you as well, that is what I must do. As for me, whenever I make any speeches on my own about philosophy or listen to others--apart from my belief that I am benefited--how I enjoy it! But whenever the speeches are of another sort, particularly the speeches of the rich and of moneymakers--your kind of talk--then just as I am distressed, so do I pity your comrades, because you believe you are doing something of importance, but in fact it's all pointless. And perhaps you, in turn, believe that I am a wretch; and I believe you truly believe it. I, on the other hand, do not believe it about you, I know it.

Comrade. You are always of a piece, Apollodorus, for you are always slandering yourself and others; and in my opinion you simply believe that--starting with yourself--everyone is miserable except Socrates. And how you ever got the nickname "Softy," I do not know, for you are always like this in your speeches, savage against yourself and others except Socrates.

Apollodorus. My dearest friend, so it is plain as it can be, is it, that in thinking this about myself as well as you I am a raving lunatic?

Comrade. It is not worthwhile, Apollodorus, to argue about this now; just do what we were begging you to do; tell what the speeches were.

Apollodorus. Well, they were somewhat as follows--but I shall just try to tell it to you from the beginning as Aristodemus told it.

He said that Socrates met him freshly bathed and wearing fancy slippers, which was not Socrates' usual way, and he asked Socrates where he was going now that he had become so beautiful.

And he said, "To dinner at Agathon's, for yesterday I stayed away from his victory celebration, in fear of the crowd, but I did agree to come today. It is just for this that I have got myself up so beautifully--that beautiful I may go to a beauty. But you," he said, "how do you feel about going uninvited to dinner? Would you be willing to do so?" ?

"And I said," he said, "'I shall do whatever you say.'"

"Then follow," he said, "so that we may change and ruin the proverb, 'the good go to Agathon's feasts on their own.' Homer, after all, not only ruined it, it seems, but even committed an outrage [hybris] on this proverb; for though he made Agamemnon an exceptionally good man in martial matters, and Menelaus a 'soft spearman,' yet when Agamemnon was making a sacrifice and a feast, he made Menelaus come to the dinner uninvited, an inferior to his better's."

He said that when he heard this he said, "Perhaps I too shall run a risk, Socrates--perhaps it is not as you say, but as Homer says, a good-for-nothing going uninvited to a wise man's dinner. Consider the risk in bringing me. What will you say in your defense? For I shall not agree that I have come uninvited but shall say that it was at your invitation."

"With the two of us going on the way together," he said, "we shall deliberate on what we shall say. Well, let us go."

He said that once they had finished their conversation along these lines, they went on. And as they were making their way Socrates somehow turned his attention to himself and was left behind, and when Aristodemus waited for him, he asked him to go on ahead. When Aristodemus got to Agathon's house, he found the door open, and he said something ridiculous happened to him there. Straight off, a domestic servant met him and brought him to where the others were reclining, and he found them on the point of starting dinner. So Agathon, of course, saw him at once, and said, "Aristodemus, you have come at a fine time to share a dinner. If you have come for something else, put it off for another time, as I was looking for you yesterday to invite you but could not find you. But how is it that you are not bringing our Socrates?

"And I turn around," he said, "and do not see Socrates following anywhere. So I said that I myself came with Socrates, on his invitation to dinner here."

"It is a fine thing for you to do," Agathon said, "but where is he?" "He was just coming in behind me. I am wondering myself where he might be." "Go look, boy," Agathon said, "and bring Socrates in. And you, Aristodemus," he said, "lie down beside Eryximachus."

And he said the boy washed him so he could lie down; and another of the boys came back to report, "Your Socrates has retreated into a neighbor's porch and stands there, and when I called him, he was unwilling to come in."

"That is strange," Agathon said. "Call him and don't let him go."

And Aristodemus said that he said, "No, no, leave him alone. That is something of a habit with him. Sometimes he moves off and stands stock still wherever he happens to be. He will come at once, I suspect. So do not try to budge him, but leave him alone."

"Well, that is what we must do, if it is your opinion," he said Agathon said. "Well now, boys, feast the rest of us. Though you always serve in any case whatever you want to whenever someone is not standing right over you, still now, in the belief that I, your master, as much as the others, has been invited to dinner by you, serve in such a way that we may praise you."

After this, he said, they dined; but Socrates did not come in, and though Agathon often ordered that Socrates be sent for, Aristodemus did not permit it. Then Socrates did come in--he had lingered as long as was usual for him--when they were just about in the middle of dinner. Then he said that Agathon, who happened to be lying down at the far end alone, said, "Here, Socrates, lie down alongside me, so that by my touching you, I too may enjoy the piece of wisdom that just occurred to you while you were in the porch. It is plain that you found it and have it, for otherwise you would not have come away beforehand."

And Socrates sat down and said, "It would be a good thing, Agathon, if wisdom were the sort of thing that flows from the fuller of us into the emptier, just by our touching one another, as the water in wine cups flows through a wool thread from the fuller to the emptier. For if wisdom too is like that, then I set a high price on my being placed alongside you, for I believe I shall be filled from you with much fair wisdom. My own may turn out to be a sorry sort of wisdom, or disputable like a dream; but your own is brilliant and capable of much development, since it has flashed out so intensely from you while you are young; and yesterday it became conspicuous among more than thirty thousand Greek witnesses."

"You are outrageous, Socrates," Agathon said. "A little later you and I will go to court about our wisdom, with Dionysus as judge, but now first attend to dinner."

After this, he said, when Socrates had reclined and dined with the rest, they made libations, sang a song to the god and did all the rest of the customary rites, and then turned to drinking. Then Pausanias, he said, began to speak somewhat as follows. "All right, men," he said. "What will be the easiest way for us to drink? Now I tell you that I am really in a very bad way from yesterday's drinking, and I need a rest. I suspect many of you do too, for you were also here yesterday. So consider what would be the easiest way for us to drink."

Aristophanes then said, "That is a good suggestion, Pausanias, to arrange our drinking in some easier way, for I too am one of yesterday's soaks."

Eryximachus, he said, the son of Akoumenos, heard them out and then said, "What a fine thing you say. But I still have need to hear from one of you--from Agathon--how set he is on heavy drinking."

"Not at all," Agathon said, "nor do I have the strength."

"We seem to be in luck," Eryximachus said, "--myself, Aristodemus, Phaedrus, and those here--if you who have the greatest capacity for drink have now given up, for we are always incapable. And I leave Socrates out of account--as he can go either way, he will be content with whatever we do. Now, since in my opinion none of those present is eager to drink a lot of wine, perhaps I should be less disagreeable were I to speak the truth about what drunkenness is. For I believe this has become quite plain to me from the art of medicine. Drunkenness is a hard thing for human beings; and as far as it is in my power, I should neither be willing to go on drinking nor to advise another to do so, particularly if he still has a headache from yesterday's debauch."

"Well, as for myself," he said Phaedrus the Myrrhinousian said, interrupting, "I am used to obeying you, particularly in whatever you say about medicine; and now the rest will do so too, if they take good counsel."

When they heard this, all agreed not to make the present party a drinking bout, but for each to drink as he pleased.

"Since, then, it has been decreed," Eryximachus said, "that each is to drink as much as he wants to, and there is to be no compulsion about it, I next propose to dismiss the flute girl who just came in and to let her flute for herself, or, if she wants, for the women within, while we consort with each other today through speeches. And as to what sort of speeches, I am willing, if you want, to make a proposal."

All then agreed that this was what they wanted and asked him to make his proposal. Eryximachus then said, "The beginning of my speech is in the manner of Euripides' Melanippe, for the tale that I am about to tell is not my own, but Phaedrus' here. On several occasions Phaedrus has said to me in annoyance, 'Isn't it awful, Eryximachus, that hymns and paeans have been made by the poets for other gods, but for Eros, who is so great and important a god, not one of the many poets there have been has ever made even a eulogy? And if you want, consider, in their turn, the good Sophists, they write up in prose praises of Heracles and others, as the excellent Prodicus does. Though you need not wonder at this, for I have even come across a volume of a wise man in which salt got a marvelous puff for its usefulness, and you might find many other things of the kind with eulogies. So they employ much zeal in things like that, yet to this day not one human being has dared to hymn Eros in a worthy manner; but so great a god lies in neglect.' Now, Phaedrus, in my opinion, speaks well in this regard. So, as I desire to make a comradely loan to please him, it is, in my opinion, appropriate for those of us who are now here to adorn the god. And if you share in my opinion, we should find. The line from Euripides' (mostly lost) Melanippe is, "The tale is not my own but from my mother"; and the fragment then goes on: "how sky and earth were one shape; but when they were separated from one another, they gave birth to everything and sent them up into the light, trees, birds, wild beasts, those the salt sea nourishes, and the race of mortals." enough of a pastime in speeches. For it is my opinion that each of us, starting on the left, should recite the fairest praise of Eros that he can, and Phaedrus should be the first to begin, inasmuch as he is lying on the head couch and is also the father of the argument."



"No one," Socrates said, "will cast a vote against you, Eryximachus. For I would surely not beg off, as I claim to have expert knowledge of nothing but erotics; nor would Agathon and Pausanias beg off, to say nothing of Aristophanes, whose whole activity is devoted to Dionysus and Aphrodite. And none of the others I see here would refuse either. And yet it is not quite fair for those of us who lie on the last couches; but if those who come first speak in a fine and adequate way, we shall be content. Well, good luck to Phaedrus then. Let him make a start and eulogize Eros."

All the others then approved and urged it as Socrates had done. Now, Aristodemus scarcely remembered all that each and every one of them said, and I in turn do not remember all that he said; but I shall tell you the noteworthy points of those speeches that, in my opinion, most particularly deserved remembering.

First of all, as I say, he said that Phaedrus began his speech at somewhat the following point: that Eros was a great and wondrous god among human beings as well as gods, and that this was so in many respects and not least in the matter of birth. "For the god to be ranked among the oldest is a mark of honor," he said, "and here is the proof: the parents of Eros neither exist nor are they spoken of by anyone, whether prose author or poet; but Hesiod says that Chaos came first--

Then thereafter Broad-breasted Earth, always the safe seat of all, And Eros.

After Chaos, he says, there came to be these two, Earth and Eros. And Parmenides says that Genesis, Akousilaus agrees with Hesiod as well. So there is an agreement in many sources that Eros is among the oldest.





Continues...

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