Le Banquet Passage 198

εἰπόντος δὲ τοῦ Ἀγάθωνος πάντας ἔφη ὁ Ἀριστόδημος ἀναθορυβῆσαι τοὺς παρόντας, ὡς πρεπόντως τοῦ νεανίσκου εἰρηκότος καὶ αὑτῷ καὶ τῷ θεῷ. τὸν οὖν Σωκράτη εἰπεῖν βλέψαντα εἰς τὸν Ἐρυξίμαχον, ἆρά σοι δοκῶ, φάναι, ὦ παῖ Ἀκουμενοῦ, ἀδεὲς πάλαι δέος δεδιέναι, ἀλλʼ οὐ μαντικῶς ἃ νυνδὴ ἔλεγον εἰπεῖν, ὅτι Ἀγάθων θαυμαστῶς ἐροῖ, ἐγὼ δʼ ἀπορήσοιμι; τὸ μὲν ἕτερον, φάναι τὸν Ἐρυξίμαχον, μαντικῶς μοι δοκεῖς εἰρηκέναι, ὅτι Ἀγάθων εὖ ἐρεῖ· τὸ δὲ σὲ ἀπορήσειν, οὐκ οἶμαι. καὶ πῶς, ὦ μακάριε, εἰπεῖν τὸν Σωκράτη, οὐ μέλλω ἀπορεῖν καὶ ἐγὼ καὶ ἄλλος ὁστισοῦν, μέλλων λέξειν μετὰ καλὸν οὕτω καὶ παντοδαπὸν λόγον ῥηθέντα; καὶ τὰ μὲν ἄλλα οὐχ ὁμοίως μὲν θαυμαστά· τὸ δὲ ἐπὶ τελευτῆς τοῦ κάλλους τῶν ὀνομάτων καὶ ῥημάτων τίς οὐκ ἂν ἐξεπλάγη ἀκούων; ἐπεὶ ἔγωγε ἐνθυμούμενος ὅτι αὐτὸς οὐχ οἷός τʼ ἔσομαι οὐδʼ ἐγγὺς τούτων οὐδὲν καλὸν εἰπεῖν, ὑπʼ αἰσχύνης ὀλίγου ἀποδρὰς ᾠχόμην, εἴ πῃ εἶχον. καὶ γάρ με Γοργίου ὁ λόγος ἀνεμίμνῃσκεν, ὥστε ἀτεχνῶς τὸ τοῦ Ὁμήρου ἐπεπόνθη· ἐφοβούμην μή μοι τελευτῶν ὁ Ἀγάθων Γοργίου κεφαλὴν δεινοῦ λέγειν ἐν τῷ λόγῳ ἐπὶ τὸν ἐμὸν λόγον πέμψας αὐτόν με λίθον τῇ ἀφωνίᾳ ποιήσειεν. καὶ ἐνενόησα τότε ἄρα καταγέλαστος ὤν, ἡνίκα ὑμῖν ὡμολόγουν ἐν τῷ μέρει μεθʼ ὑμῶν ἐγκωμιάσεσθαι τὸν ἔρωτα καὶ ἔφην εἶναι δεινὸς τὰ ἐρωτικά, οὐδὲν εἰδὼς ἄρα τοῦ πράγματος, ὡς ἔδει ἐγκωμιάζειν ὁτιοῦν. ἐγὼ μὲν γὰρ ὑπʼ ἀβελτερίας ᾤμην δεῖν τἀληθῆ λέγειν περὶ ἑκάστου τοῦ ἐγκωμιαζομένου, καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ὑπάρχειν, ἐξ αὐτῶν δὲ τούτων τὰ κάλλιστα ἐκλεγομένους ὡς εὐπρεπέστατα τιθέναι· καὶ πάνυ δὴ μέγα ἐφρόνουν ὡς εὖ ἐρῶν, ὡς εἰδὼς τὴν ἀλήθειαν τοῦ ἐπαινεῖν ὁτιοῦν. τὸ δὲ ἄρα, ὡς ἔοικεν, οὐ τοῦτο ἦν τὸ καλῶς ἐπαινεῖν ὁτιοῦν, ἀλλὰ τὸ ὡς μέγιστα ἀνατιθέναι τῷ πράγματι καὶ ὡς κάλλιστα, ἐάν τε ᾖ οὕτως ἔχοντα ἐάν τε μή· εἰ δὲ ψευδῆ, οὐδὲν ἄρʼ ἦν πρᾶγμα. προυρρήθη γάρ, ὡς ἔοικεν, ὅπως ἕκαστος ἡμῶν τὸν ἔρωτα ἐγκωμιάζειν δόξει, οὐχ ὅπως ἐγκωμιάσεται.

At the end of Agathon’s speech, as Aristodemus told me, there was tumultuous applause from all present, at hearing the youngster speak in terms so appropriate to himself and to the god. Then Socrates, with a glance at Eryximachus, said: Son of Acumenus, do you really call it an unfearful fear that has all this while affrighted me, and myself no prophet in saying just now that Agathon would make a marvellous speech, and I be hard put to it? In one part of your statement, that he would speak finely, replied Eryximachus, I think you were a true prophet; but as to your being hard put to it, I do not agree. But surely, my good sir, said Socrates, I am bound to be hard put, I or anyone else in the world who should have to speak after such a fine assortment of eloquence. The greater part of it was not so very astounding; but when we drew towards the close, the beauty of the words and phrases could not but take one’s breath away. For myself, indeed, I was so conscious that I should fail to say anything half as fine, that for very shame I was on the point of slinking away, had I had any chance. For his speech so reminded me of Gorgias that I was exactly in the plight described by Homer: I feared that Agathon in his final phrases would confront me with the eloquent Gorgias’ head, and by opposing his speech to mine would turn me thus dumbfounded into stone. And so in that moment I realized what a ridiculous fool I was to fall in with your proposal that I should take my turn in your eulogies of Love, and to call myself an expert in love-matters, when really I was ignorant of the method in which eulogies ought to be made at all. For I was such a silly wretch as to think that one ought in each case to speak the truth about the person eulogized; on this assumption I hoped we might pick out the fairest of the facts and set these forth in their comeliest guise. I was quite elated with the notion of what a fine speech I should make, for I felt that I knew the truth. But now, it appears that this is not what is meant by a good speech of praise; which is rather an ascription of all the highest and fairest qualities, whether the case be so or not; it is really no matter if they are untrue. Our arrangement, it seems, was that each should appear to eulogize Love, not that he should make a real eulogy.

[198b] - Et qui, mon cher, reprit Socrate, ne serait embarrassé aussi bien que moi, ayant à parler après un discours si beau, si varié, admirable en toutes ses parties, mais principalement sur la fin, où il y a une élégance et une beauté de diction en vérité surprenante ? Je me trouve si éloigné de pouvoir rien dire d’aussi beau, que me sentant saisi de honte [198c] j’aurais quitté la place, si je l’avais pu ; car l’éloquence d’Agathon m’a rappelé Gorgias, au point que véritablement il m’est arrivé ce que dit Homère : je craignais qu’en finissant son discours Agathon ne lançât sur le mien, pour ainsi dire, la tête de Gorgias, cet orateur terrible, qui m’allait pétrifier et me réduire au silence. J’ai reconnu en même temps combien j’étais ridicule, lorsque je me suis engagé avec vous [198d] à rapporter en mon rang les louanges de l’Amour, et que je me suis vanté d’être savant en amour, moi qui ne sais pas même comment il faut louer quoi que ce soit. En effet, jusqu’ici j’avais eu la folie de croire qu’on ne peut faire entrer dans l’éloge que des choses vraies, que c’était là le fond, et qu’il ne s’agissait plus que de choisir entre toutes ces choses les plus belles, et de les placer le plus convenablement. Je me croyais donc assuré de bien parler, puisque je savais la vraie manière de louer. Mais il paraît que cette méthode n’est pas la bonne, et qu’il faut attribuer [198e] les plus grandes perfections à l’objet qu’on a entrepris de louer, soit qu’elles lui appartiennent, soit qu’elles ne lui appartiennent pas, la vérité ou la fausseté n’étant en cela de nulle importance. Il avait été convenu, à ce qu’il semble, que chacun de nous aurait l’air de louer l’amour et non d’en faire l’éloge réellement. Voilà pourquoi apparemment vous vous appliquez à lui attribuer toutes les perfections, et vous le faites si grand et la cause de si grandes choses, afin