Pleased with this story, O Hercules, quoth Zeuxippus, how have you almost raced out of mind that hereditary hatred which I had conceived against Anytus, for his
ill opinion of Socrates and philosophy, since he was become so gentle and generous in his amours. Be it so, said
my father; but let us proceed. Love is of that nature,
that it renders those that were severe and morose before
both affable and pleasant in their humor. For as
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The burning tapers make the house more light,
And all things look more glorious to the sight;
so the heat of love renders the soul of man more lively
and cheerful. But most men go quite contrary to reason
in this particular. For when they behold a glittering light
in a house by night, they admire and look upon it as something celestial; but when they see a narrow, pitiful, abject
soul of a sudden replenished with understanding, generosity, sense of honor, courtesy, and liberality, they do not
believe themselves constrained to say, as Telemachus in
Homer,
Surely some God within this house resides.1
For the love of the Graces, tell me, said Daphnaeus, is it
not a thing altogether as much savoring of divinity, that a
man who contemns all other things, not only his friends
and familiar acquaintance, but also the laws, the magistrates, even kings and princes themselves, who fears nothing, is astonished at nothing, cares for nothing, but thinks
himself able to defy the ‘barbed lightning,’
2 yet, so soon
as he beholds the object of his burning love,
As dunghill cravens, by a sudden blow,
Hang their loose wings with little list to crow,
should presently lose all his prowess, and that all his
bravery should fail him, as if his heart were quite sunk to
the bottom of his body? And it were not impertinent to
make mention of Sappho here among the Muses. For
the Romans report in their stories that Cacus, the son
of Vulcan, vomited fire and flames out of his mouth. And
indeed Sappho speaks as if her words were mixed with
fire, and in her verses plainly discovers the violent heat of
her heart, according to that of Philoxenus,
Seeking for cure of love-inflicted wounds,
From pleasing numbers and melodious sounds.
[p. 290]
And here, Daphnaeus, if the love of Lysandra have not
buried in oblivion your former sportive dalliances, I would
desire you to call to mind and oblige us with the repetition
of those elegant raptures of Sappho, wherein she tells us
how that, when the person beloved by her appeared, her
speech forsook her, her body was all over in a sweat; how
she grew pale and wan, and was surprised with a sudden
trembling and dizziness. To this Daphnaeus consented;
and so soon as he had recited the verses, said my father:
So Jupiter help me, is not this an apparent seizure of something more than human upon the soul? Can this be other
than some celestial rapture of the mind? What do we
find equal to it in the Pythian prophetess, when she sits
upon the tripod? Where do we find the flutes which are
used in the Bacchanalian orgies, or the tabors played upon
in the ceremonies of the Mother of the Gods, rouse up
such noble transports among that fanatic sort of enthusiasts?
Many there are that behold the same body and the same
beauty, but the lover only admires and is ravished with it.
And what is the reason, do ye think? For we do not perceive or understand it from Menander, when he says:
'Tis the occasion that infects the heart,
For only he that's wounded feels the smart.
But it is the God of Love that gives the occasion, seizing
upon some, and letting others go free. What therefore
had been more seasonable for me to have spoken before,
since it is now chopped into my mouth (as Aeschylus says),
I think I will not even now let go, as being a matter of
great importance. For it may be, my dear friend, there is
not any thing in the world which was not made perceptible
by sense, but what gained credit and authority at the first
either from fables, or from the law, or else from rational
discourse. And therefore poets, lawgivers, and in the
third place philosophers, were all along the first that instructed and confirmed us in our opinion of the Gods.
[p. 291]
For all agree that there are Gods; but concerning their
number, their order, their essence and power, they vastly
differ one among another. For the philosophers' Deities
are subject neither to age nor diseases, neither do they
undergo any labor or pain,
Exempted from the noise and hurry
Of busy Acherontic ferry.
And therefore they will not admit poetical Deities, like Strife
and Prayers;
3 nor will they acknowledge Fear and Terror
to be Gods or the sons of Mars. They also differ from
the lawgivers in many things. Thus Xenophanes told the
Egyptians not to worship Osiris as a God if they thought
him to be mortal, and if they thought him to be a God not
to bewail him. Then again, the poets and lawgivers vary
from the philosophers, and will not so much as hear them,
while they deify certain ideas, numbers, unities, and spirits;
such is the wild variety and vast difference of opinions
among this sort of people. Therefore, as there were at
Athens the three factions of the Parali, Epacrii, and
Pedieis, that could never agree but were always at variance
one with another, yet when they were assembled, gave
their suffrages unanimously for Solon, and chose him with
one consent for their peacemaker, governor, and lawgiver,
as to whom the highest reward of virtue was, without all
doubt or question, due; so the three different sects or factions in reference to the Gods, in giving their opinions
some for one and some for another, as being by no means
willing to subscribe one to another, are all positive in their
consent as to the God of Love. Him the most famous of
the poets, and the numerous acclamations of the philosophers and lawgivers, have enrolled in the catalogue of the
Gods ‘with loud praises and harmonious acclaim,’ as
Alcaeus says of the Mitylenaeans when they chose Pittacus
for their prince. So Hesiod, Plato, and Solon bring forth
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Cupid out of Helicon, and conduct him in pomp and state
into the Academy, to be our king, governor, and director,
drawn in by friendship and intercourse with all their
pairs of horses,—not the friendship which, as Euripides
says, is
With fetters bound, but not of brass,4
as if the bonds of love were only the cold and ponderous
chains of necessity, made use of as a colorable pretence to
excuse and qualify shame, but such friendship as is carried
upon winged chariots to the most lovely objects that exist,
and to sights more divine than this earth affords. But on
this point others have better discoursed.
