“Ah, yes! Indeed it is, but by no intent of my own. For this conversation on the nature of Love happened on a whim, as love itself oft does,” Agathon said. “Let us pour our cups full once more, raise them in praise of Eros, and continue our dialogue,” he said, hastening his six guests – all notable men of Athens – to throw back the last drops of Dionysian nectar still swirling about in the bottoms of their glasses.
Agathon’s servants rushed around the table refreshing the guests, carefully pouring wine into their green glass goblets, stopping just short of the spiral threading decorating their tops. As the men relaxed in their chairs, staining their lips with crimson liquid and becoming subdued by its fragrant bouquet, the brilliant playwright Aristophanes began sharing his fabulous tale regarding the nature of Love, taking the room back to the dawn of time.
“In the beginning, before man conquered the ocean’s tides and deciphered the motions of the heavens, human beings of a very different variety roamed the earth. They carried a different shape than either you or I – they were round. They were not round like a wheel, nor like a coin, but like a grape – they were round all around. They had four legs and four feet, and fours arms with four hands. They had one large head that bore two faces with four ears.
They traveled with great agility and speed, moving across all eight limbs in a cartwheel fashion. In fact, they moved with such speed and bore such strength that they posed a threat to the gods themselves. And when their eyes turned skyward, pride turning their motives dark, their many limbs dared to make an attack on Mt. Olympus, home of the mighty gods.
With haste, Zeus called upon all twelve Olympians – Hera, Apollo and Athena among them – to gather around his ivory throne, inlaid with gold and precious stones plucked from all reaches of the earth. And when they were all seated, he spoke.
‘I wish to reign thunderbolts down upon this atrocious race, wiping their filth from the earth!’ Zeus roared, his stalwart appearance softened by the gentle curls atop his head that crept down his face and across his chin.
Hera, with pink rose cheeks and a cylindrical crown atop her head, objected. ‘Without humanity, we would receive neither worship nor sacrifice. We must not extinguish their race.’
‘But we can not let them run a riot!’ Apollo exclaimed, catapulting his bow and arrows to the ground.
After much thought, Zeus spoke once again. ‘I have a plan,’ he said. ‘This race has become a plague on account of their strength. But what if their strength were curtailed?’ he said, cocking his head, giving each of his fellow Olympians a sidelong glance before proceeding. ‘I shall cut each one of them in two!’ he said. ‘And if they still run a riot, I shall cut them again, forcing them to hop about on a single leg!’
But such a measure proved unnecessary. With two legs instead of four, the human race lost its supreme speed, agility and strength, and the threat they once posed to the mighty gods vanished. Humans became content in their earthly habitat, only looking to the heavens when praising the gods and sending sacrificial scents skyward to please their noses.
But there was one consequence not foreseen. An imprint was left on the soul of each human, a recollection of their former state to which every man longed to return. The two halves – who had once been one – craved one another, feeling incomplete as, in fact, they were. And so man became preoccupied with finding his soul’s mate, for it is innate to each man to love and desire his other half. And this, gentleman, is the origin of Love,” Agathon said, taking a bow as a a clever grin crossed his face.
“To Love!” Agathon bellowed, raising his glass to the air, having taken much delight in Aristophanes’ story. “And to finding our soul’s mate,” he said, tossing back the entire contents of his glass in a series of large gulps. His guests clamored in agreement, each one dousing their mouths with wine.
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