With these words the Syracusan made his exit, bent on organising his performance. As soon as he was gone, Socrates once more essayed a novel argument. He thus addressed them:
It were but reasonable, sirs, on our part not to ignore the mighty power here present, a divinity in point of age coequal with the everlasting gods, yet in outward form the youngest, who in magnitude embraces all things, and yet his shrine is planted in the soul of man. Love is his name! and least of all should we forget him who are one and all votaries of this god. For myself I cannot name the time at which I have not been in love with some one. And Charmides here has, to my knowledge, captivated many a lover, while his own soul has gone out in longing for the love of not a few himself. So it is with Critobulus also; the beloved of yesterday is become the lover of to-day. Ay, and Niceratus, as I am told, adores his wife, and is by her adored. As to Hermogenes, which of us needs to be told that the soul of this fond lover is consumed with passion for a fair ideal—call it by what name you will—the spirit blent of nobleness and beauty. See you not what chaste severity dwells on his brow; how tranquil his gaze; how moderate his words; how gentle his intonation; now radiant his whole character. And if he enjoys the friendship of the most holy gods, he keeps a place in his regard for us poor mortals. But how is it that you alone, Antisthenes, you misanthrope, love nobody?
The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats, though unseen, among us....
Nay, so help me Heaven! (he replied), but I do love most desperately yourself, O Socrates!
Whereat Socrates, still carrying on the jest, with a coy, coquettish air, replied: Yes; only please do not bother me at present. I have other things to do, you see.
Antisthenes replied: How absolutely true to your own character, arch go-between! It is always either your familiar oracle won't suffer you, that's your pretext, and so you can't converse with me; or you are bent upon something or somebody else.
Then Socrates: For Heaven's sake, don't carbonado me, Antisthenes, that's all. Any other savagery on your part I can stand, and will stand, as a lover should. However (he added), the less we say about your love the better, since it is clearly an attachment not to my soul, but to my lovely person.
And then, turning to Callias: And that you, Callias, do love Autolycus, this whole city knows and half the world besides, if I am not mistaken; and the reason is that you are both sons of famous fathers, and yourselves illustrious. For my part I have ever admired your nature, but now much more so, when I see that you are in love with one who does not wanton in luxury or languish in effeminacy, but who displays to all his strength, his hardihood, his courage, and sobriety of soul. To be enamoured of such qualities as these is a proof itself of a true lover's nature.
Whether indeed Aphrodite be one or twain in personality, the heavenly and the earthly, I cannot tell, for Zeus, who is one and indivisible, bears many titles. But this thing I know, that these twain have separate altars, shrines, and sacrifices, as befits their nature—she that is earthly, of a lighter and a laxer sort; she that is heavenly, purer and holier in type. And you may well conjecture, it is the earthly goddess, the common Aphrodite, who sends forth the bodily loves; while from her that is named of heaven, Ourania, proceed those loves which feed upon the soul, on friendship and on noble deeds. It is by this latter, Callias, that you are held in bonds, if I mistake not, Love divine. This I infer as well from the fair and noble character of your friend, as from the fact that you invite his father to share your life and intercourse. Since no part of these is hidden from the father by the fair and noble lover.
Hermogenes broke in: By Hera, Socrates, I much admire you for many things, and now to see how in the act of gratifying Callias you are training him in duty and true excellence.
Why, yes (he said), if only that his cup of happiness may overflow, I wish to testify to him how far the love of soul is better than the love of body.
Without friendship, as we full well know, there is no society of any worth. And this friendship, what is it? On the part of those whose admiration is bestowed upon the inner disposition, it is well named a sweet and voluntary compulsion. But among those whose desire is for the body, there are not a few who blame, nay hate, the ways of their beloved ones. And even where attachment clings to both, even so the bloom of beauty after all does quickly reach its prime; the flower withers, and when that fails, the affection which was based upon it must also wither up and perish. But the soul, with every step she makes in her onward course towards deeper wisdom, grows ever worthier of love.
Ay, and in the enjoyment of external beauty a sort of surfeit is engendered. Just as the eater's appetite palls through repletion with regard to meats, so will the feelings of a lover towards his idol. But the soul's attachment, owing to its purity, knows no satiety. Yet not therefore, as a man might fondly deem, has it less of the character of loveliness. But very clearly herein is our prayer fulfilled, in which we beg the goddess to grant us words and deeds that bear the impress of her own true loveliness.
O Love Divine, how sweet Thou art! When shall I find my willing heart All taken up by Thee?
That a soul whose bloom is visible alike in beauty of external form, free and unfettered, and an inner disposition, bashful, generous; a spirit at once imperial and affable, born to rule among its fellows—that such a being will, of course, admire and fondly cling to his beloved, is a thesis which needs no further argument on my part. Rather I will essay to teach you, how it is natural that this same type of lover should in turn be loved by his soul's idol.
How, in the first place, is it possible for him to hate a lover who, he knows, regards him as both beautiful and good? and, in the next place, one who, it is clear, is far more anxious to promote the fair estate of him he loves than to indulge his selfish joys? and above all, when he has faith and trust that neither dereliction, nor loss of beauty through sickness, nor aught else, will diminish their affection.
If, then, they own a mutual devotion, how can it but be, they will take delight in gazing each into the other's eyes, hold kindly converse, trust and be trusted, have forethought for each other, in success rejoice together, in misfortune share their troubles; and so long as health endures make merry cheer, day in day out; or if either of them should fall on sickness, then will their intercourse be yet more constant; and if they cared for one another face to face, much more will they care when parted. Are not all these the outward tokens of true loveliness? In the exercise of such sweet offices, at any rate, they show their passion for holy friendship's state, and prove its bliss, continuously pacing life's path from youth to eld.
But the lover who depends upon the body, what of him? First, why should love-for-love be given to such a lover? because, forsooth, he bestows upon himself what he desires, and upon his minion things of dire reproach? or that what he hastens to exact, infallibly must separate that other from his nearest friends?
If it be pleaded that persuasion is his instrument, not violence; is that no reason rather for a deeper loathing? since he who uses violence at any rate declares himself in his true colours as a villain, while the tempter corrupts the soul of him who yields to his persuasions.
Ay, and how should he who traffics with his beauty love the purchaser, any more than he who keeps a stall in the market-place and vends to the highest bidder? Love springs not up, I trow, because the one is in his prime, and the other's bloom is withered, because fair is mated with what is not fair, and hot lips are pressed to cold. Between man and woman it is different. There the wife at any rate shares with her husband in their nuptial joys; but here conversely, the one is sober and with unimpassioned eye regards his fellow, who is drunken with the wine of passion.
Wherefore it is no marvel if, beholding, there springs up in his breast the bitterest contempt and scorn for such a lover. Search and you shall find that nothing harsh was ever yet engendered by attachment based on moral qualities; whilst shameless intercourse, time out of mind, has been the source of countless hateful and unhallowed deeds.
I have next to show that the society of him whose love is of the body, not the soul, is in itself illiberal. The true educator who trains another in the path of virtue, who will teach us excellence, whether of speech or conduct, may well be honoured, even as Cheiron and Phoenix were honoured by Achilles. But what can he expect, who stretches forth an eager hand to clutch the body, save to be treated as a beggar? That is his character; for ever cringing and petitioning a kiss, or some other soft caress, this sorry suitor dogs his victims.
Therefore sent he (Peleus) me to thee to teach thee all things, To be both a speaker of words and a doer of deeds (W. Leaf).
If my language has a touch of turbulence, do not marvel: partly the wine exalts me; partly that love which ever dwells within my heart of hearts now pricks me forward to use great boldness of speech against his base antagonist. Why, yes indeed, it seems to me that he who fixes his mind on outward beauty is like a man who has taken a farm on a short lease. He shows no anxiety to improve its value; his sole object being to take off it the largest crops he can himself. But he whose heart is set on loyal friendship resembles rather a man who has a farmstead of his own. At any rate, he scours the wide world to find what may enhance the value of his soul's delight.
Again, let us consider the effect upon the object of attachment. Let him but know his beauty is a bond sufficient to enthrall his lover, and what wonder if he be careless of all else and play the wanton. Let him discover, on the contrary, that if he would retain his dear affection he must himself be truly good and beautiful, and it is only natural he should become more studious of virtue. But the greatest blessing which descends on one beset with eager longing to convert the idol of his soul into a good man and true friend is this: necessity is laid upon himself to practise virtue; since how can he hope to make his comrade good, if he himself works wickedness? Is it conceivable that the example he himself presents of what is shameless and incontinent, will serve to make the beloved one temperate and modest?
I have a longing, Callias, by mythic argument to show you that not men only, but gods and heroes, set greater store by friendship of the soul than bodily enjoyment. Thus those fair women whom Zeus, enamoured of their outward beauty, wedded, he permitted mortal to remain; but those heroes whose souls he held in admiration, these he raised to immortality. Of whom are Heracles and the Dioscuri, and there are others also named. As I maintain, it was not for his body's sake, but for his soul's, that Ganymede was translated to Olympus, as the story goes, by Zeus. And to this his very name bears witness, for is it not written in Homer?
This the poet says, meaning "he is pleased to listen to his words."
And again, in another passage he says:
which is as much as to say, "knowing wise counsels in his mind." Ganymede, therefore, bears a name compounded of the two words, "joy" and "counsel," and is honoured among the gods, not as one "whose body," but "whose mind" "gives pleasure."
Furthermore (I appeal to you, Niceratus), Homer makes Achilles avenge Patroclus in that brilliant fashion, not as his favourite, but as his comrade. Yes, and Orestes and Pylades, Theseus and Peirithous, with many another noble pair of demigods, are celebrated as having wrought in common great and noble deeds, not because they lay inarmed, but because of the admiration they felt for one another.
Nay, take the fair deeds of to-day: and you shall find them wrought rather for the sake of praise by volunteers in toil and peril, than by men accustomed to choose pleasure in place of honour. And yet Pausanias, the lover of the poet Agathon, making a defence in behalf of some who wallow in incontinence, has stated that an army composed of lovers and beloved would be invincible. These, in his opinion, would, from awe of one another, have the greatest horror of destruction. A truly marvellous argument, if he means that men accustomed to turn deaf ears to censure and to behave to one another shamelessly, are more likely to feel ashamed of doing a shameful deed. He adduced as evidence the fact that the Thebans and the Eleians recognise the very principle, and added: Though they sleep inarmed, they do not scruple to range the lover side by side with the beloved one in the field of battle. An instance which I take to be no instance, or at any rate one-sided, seeing that what they look upon as lawful with us is scandalous. Indeed, it strikes me that this vaunted battle-order would seem to argue some mistrust on their part who adopt it—a suspicion that their bosom friends, once separated from them, may forget to behave as brave men should. But the men of Lacedaemon, holding that "if a man but lay his hand upon the body and for lustful purpose, he shall thereby forfeit claim to what is beautiful and noble"—do, in the spirit of their creed, contrive to mould and fashion their "beloved ones" to such height of virtue, that should these find themselves drawn up with foreigners, albeit no longer side by side with their own lovers, conscience will make desertion of their present friends impossible. Self-respect constrains them: since the goddess whom the men of Lacedaemon worship is not "Shamelessness," but "Reverence."
I fancy we should all agree with one another on the point in question, if we thus approached it. Ask yourself to which type of the two must he accord, to whom you would entrust a sum of money, make him the guardian of your children, look to find in him a safe and sure depositary of any favour? For my part, I am certain that the very lover addicted to external beauty would himself far sooner have his precious things entrusted to the keeping of one who has the inward beauty of the soul.
Ah, yes! and you, my friend (he turned to Callias), you have good reason to be thankful to the gods who of their grace inspired you with love for your Autolycus. Covetous of honour, beyond all controversy, must he be, who could endure so many toils and pains to hear his name proclaimed victor in the "pankration."
But what if the thought arose within him: his it is not merely to add lustre to himself and to his father, but that he has ability, through help of manly virtue, to benefit his friends and to exalt his fatherland, by trophies which he will set up against our enemies in war, whereby he will himself become the admired of all observers, nay, a name to be remembered among Hellenes and barbarians. Would he not in that case, think you, make much of one whom he regarded as his bravest fellow-worker, laying at his feet the greatest honours?
If, then, you wish to be well-pleasing in his eyes, you had best inquire by what knowledge Themistocles was able to set Hellas free. You should ask yourself, what keen wit belonged to Pericles that he was held to be the best adviser of his fatherland. You should scan the field of history to learn by what sage wisdom Solon established for our city her consummate laws. I would have you find the clue to that peculiar training by which the men of Lacedaemon have come to be regarded as the best of leaders. Is it not at your house that their noblest citizens are lodged as representatives of a foreign state?
Be sure that our state of Athens would speedily entrust herself to your direction were you willing. Everything is in your favour. You are of noble family, "eupatrid" by descent, a priest of the divinities, and of Erechtheus' famous line, which with Iacchus marched to encounter the barbarian. And still, at the sacred festival to-day, it is agreed that no one among your ancestors has ever been more fitted to discharge the priestly office than yourself; yours a person the goodliest to behold in all our city, and a frame adapted to undergo great toils.
But if I seem to any of you to indulge a vein more serious than befits the wine-cup, marvel not. It has long been my wont to share our city's passion for noble-natured souls, alert and emulous in pursuit of virtue.
He ended, and, while the others continued to discuss the theme of his discourse, Autolycus sat regarding Callias. That other, glancing the while at the beloved one, turned to Socrates.
Call. Then, Socrates, be pleased, as go-between, to introduce me to the state, that I may employ myself in state affairs and never lapse from her good graces.
Never fear (he answered), if only people see your loyalty to virtue is genuine, not of mere repute. A false renown indeed is quickly seen for what it is worth, being tested; but true courage (save only what some god hinder) perpetually amidst the storm and stress of circumstance pours forth a brighter glory.
Next: Chapter IX