Symposium (202-203)

To be sure I do. And what is not skilled, ignorant? Have you not observed that there is something halfway between skill and ignorance? What is that? You know, of course, that to have correct opinion, if you can give no reason for it, is neither full knowledge—how can an unreasoned thing be knowledge?—nor yet ignorance; for what hits on the truth cannot be ignorance. So correct opinion, I take it, is just in that position, between understanding and ignorance. Quite true, I said. Then do not compel what is not beautiful to be ugly, she said, or what is not good to be bad. Likewise of Love, when you find yourself admitting that he is not good nor beautiful, do not therefore suppose he must be ugly and bad, but something betwixt the two. And what of the notion, I asked, to which every one agrees, that he is a great god? Every one? People who do not know, she rejoined, or those who know also? I mean everybody in the world. At this she laughed and said, But how, Socrates, can those agree that he is a great god who say he is no god at all? What persons are they? I asked. You are one, she replied, and I am another. How do you make that out? I said. Easily, said she; tell me, do you not say that all gods are happy and beautiful? Or will you dare to deny that any god is beautiful and happy? Bless me! I exclaimed, not I. And do you not call those happy who possess good and beautiful things? Certainly I do. But you have admitted that Love, from lack of good and beautiful things, desires these very things that he lacks. Yes, I have. How then can he be a god, if he is devoid of things beautiful and good? By no means, it appears. So you see, she said, you are a person who does not consider Love to be a god. What then, I asked, can Love be? A mortal? Anything but that. Well what? As I previously suggested, between a mortal and an immortal. And what is that, Diotima? A great spirit, Socrates: for the whole of the spiritual [*] is between divine and mortal. Possessing what power? I asked. Interpreting and transporting human things to the gods and divine things to men; entreaties and sacrifices from below, and ordinances and requitals from above: being midway between, it makes each to supplement the other, so that the whole is combined in one.

Through it are conveyed all divination and priestcraft concerning sacrifice and ritual and incantations, and all soothsaying and sorcery. God with man does not mingle: but the spiritual is the means of all society and converse of men with gods and of gods with men, whether waking or asleep. Whosoever has skill in these affairs is a spiritual man to have it in other matters, as in common arts and crafts, is for the mechanical. Many and multifarious are these spirits, and one of them is Love. From what father and mother sprung? I asked. That is rather a long story, she replied; but still, I will tell it you. When Aphrodite was born, the gods made a great feast, and among the company was Resource the son of Cunning. And when they had banqueted there came Poverty abegging, as well she might in an hour of good cheer, and hung about the door. Now Resource, grown tipsy with nectar—for wine as yet there was none—went into the garden of Zeus, and there, overcome with heaviness, slept. Then Poverty, being of herself so resourceless, devised the scheme of having a child by Resource, and lying down by his side she conceived Love. Hence it is that Love from the beginning has been attendant and minister to Aphrodite, since he was begotten on the day of her birth, and is, moreover, by nature a lover bent on beauty since Aphrodite is beautiful. Now, as the son of Resource and Poverty, Love is in a peculiar case. First, he is ever poor, and far from tender or beautiful as most suppose him: rather is he hard and parched, shoeless and homeless; on the bare ground always he lies with no bedding, and takes his rest on doorsteps and waysides in the open air; true to his mother’s nature, he ever dwells with want. But he takes after his father in scheming for all that is beautiful and good; for he is brave, strenuous and high-strung, a famous hunter, always weaving some stratagem; desirous and competent of wisdom, throughout life ensuing the truth; a master of jugglery, witchcraft, and artful speech. By birth neither immortal nor mortal, in the selfsame day he is flourishing and alive at the hour when he is abounding in resource; at another he is dying, and then reviving again by force of his father’s nature: yet the resources that he gets will ever be ebbing away; so that Love is at no time either resourceless or wealthy, and furthermore, he stands midway betwixt wisdom and ignorance.