sow in the womb, as in a field, animals unseen by reason of their smallness and without form; these again are separated and matured within; they are then finally brought out into the light, and thus the generation of animals is completed. In the _Symposium_, Plato postulates a philosophy of love: Love is the love of beauty and not of deformity? He assented. And the admission has been already made that love is of that which a man wants and has not? True, he said. Then love wants and has not beauty? Certainly, he replied. And would you call that beautiful which wants and does not possess beauty? Certainly not. Then would you still say that love is beautiful? Agathon replied: I fear that I did not understand what I was saying. Nay, Agathon, replied Socrates; but I should like to ask you one more question:—is not the good also the beautiful? Yes. Then in wanting the beautiful love wants also the good? I can not refute you, Socrates, said Agathon. And let us suppose that what you say is true. Say rather, dear Agathon, that you can not refute the truth; for Socrates is easily refuted. * * * * * And now I will take my leave of you, and rehearse the tale of love which I heard once upon a time from Diotima of Mantineia, who was a wise woman in this and many other branches of knowledge. She was the same who deferred the plague of Athens ten years by a sacrifice, and was my instructress in the art of love. In the attempt which I am about to make I shall pursue Agathon’s method, and begin with his admissions, which are nearly if not quite the same which I made to the wise woman when she questioned me: this will be the easiest way, and I shall take both parts myself as well as I can. For, like Agathon, she spoke first of the being and nature of love, and then of his works. And I said to her in nearly the same words which he “As in the former instance, he is neither mortal fair; and she proved to me as I proved to him that, in my way of speaking about him, love was neither fair nor good. “What do you mean, Diotima,” I said, “is love then evil and foul?” “Hush,” she cried; “is that to be deemed foul which is not fair?” “Certainly,” I said. “And is that which is not wise, ignorant? do you not see that there is a mean between wisdom and ignorance?” “And what is this?” I said. “Right opinion,” she replied; “which, as you know, being incapable of giving a reason, is not knowledge (for how could knowledge be devoid of reason? nor again, ignorance, for neither can ignorance attain the truth), but is clearly something which is a mean between ignorance and wisdom.” “Quite true,” I replied.