INTRODUCTION.

Of all Plato’s works, the Symposium is the most perfect in form. It may truly be said to contain more than any commentator has ever dreamed of—or, as Goethe said of one of his own writings, more than the author himself knew. In philosophy, as in prophecy, glimpses of the future may often be conveyed in words that could hardly have been understood or interpreted when they were first uttered (compare Symposium 210 and following, 223 D).

More than any other Platonic work, the Symposium is Greek in both style and subject, possessing a beauty “as of a statue,” whereas the companion dialogue, the Phaedrus, is marked by a certain Gothic irregularity. Furthermore, in this work, Plato is more emancipated from earlier philosophies than in any other part of his writings. The genius of Greek art seems to triumph over the traditions of the Pythagorean, Eleatic, or Megarian systems, and “the old quarrel of poetry and philosophy” (Republic, 607 B) finds, at the very least, a superficial reconciliation.

An unknown person, having heard of the speeches in praise of love delivered by Socrates and others at the banquet of Agathon, is eager to obtain an authentic account of them. He believes he can get this from Apollodorus—the same excitable, or rather “mad,” friend of Socrates who appeared in the Phaedo. He had imagined that the speeches were recent, which is a mistake; however, they remain fresh in the memory of his informant, who has just been repeating them to Glaucon and is perfectly willing to rehearse them again while walking from the Piraeus to Athens. Although he was not present himself, he heard them from the best authority: Aristodemus, who is described as having been in past times a humble but inseparable attendant of Socrates (compare Xenophon, Memorabilia i. 4).