they may prove that they are willing and able to work before they might be provided food. Such is the love of the church, Laurie. It has none at all to spare for those who are too weak to work, be they too young, too old, or too sick. If they cannot survive work and have no monied relatives to see to them, let them die.”
Speechless in the face of Gilbert’s argument, Laurie sat back in his seat and stared numbly out the window as bidden, and began to understand why Gilbert did not believe in love or God.
T hey returned in silence to Gilbert’s residence, where they were served luncheon in the grand dining-hall, which had space for twenty and felt lonely and dark in the flickering light of the kerosene lamps. Laurie searched about for some subject which might serve to lighten the tense mood between them, but it was Gilbert who first supplied one.
“Have you read Plato’s Symposium , Laurie?”
Laurie looked up from his meal, wondering what aspect of their wager this topic might or might not concern. “I confess I have not. I know of it, but it was never assigned to my curriculum.”
“I shall lend you my copy,” Gilbert promised. “It is entirely relevant to our wager, though I find I disagree with Plato’s conclusions. I would gladly hear your perspective on the thing.”
“Really? I’d always heard it was nothing but a conversation at a dinner party, and not much worth reading unless one intended to make an exhaustive study of Plato.”
“Not at all. It is quite my favourite of Plato’s works,” Gilbert assured him, cheer returning to Gilbert’s handsome, rosy face as they conversed. “I think, rather, that the university dons discourage the reading of it on account of the behaviour it may promote among the students.”
That brought Laurie’s brows together in puzzled curiosity. “What behaviour?”
Gilbert’s grin widened with wicked playfulness, which he schooled into mock innocence. “I suppose you shall rather have to read it and find out, won’t you?”
“Very well. It has some concern for the topic of love?”
“The entire thing is writ upon the topic of love,” Gilbert confirmed. “Its origin and nature. Unlike ourselves, the characters presented in the Symposium make no question upon the existence of love, and seek only to divine its nature and purpose.”
“And do they?”
“They lead the narrative quite assuredly to Plato’s conclusion, and treat most beautifully upon the topic of love along the way. But it seems to me that in the end, Plato values philosophy and privation over the sort of passionate love described in Shakespeare’s sonnets. I do believe I’d rather have the latter.”
“Would you?” Laurie asked, his lips curling in a smile. “But you do argue that love does not exist.”
“And yet, as we have discussed, I still desire to feel it.”
Finishing their meal, the two of them rose and ventured upstairs to the library, where Gilbert took down a well-worn, handwritten journal. Laurie settled himself upon one of the couches, whereupon Gilbert sprawled across the couch with his head in Laurie’s lap. That made Laurie blush, but he tilted the book up as Gilbert opened it, looking at the small, slanting script with copious notes in the margins. “Is this your translation?”
“Yes,” Gilbert answered, and began to read. “ Symposion. As related by Apollodoros to his friend. I think that I am not unprepared to speak on the subject about which you ask… ”
Gilbert’s voice was smooth as cream as he read, pausing occasionally to make some comment about the translation. Relaxing back into the couch, Laurie let his hand rest in Gilbert’s soft curls, combing through them gently as Gilbert read to him about the illustrious company of Phaedrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Agathon, Alcibiades and Socrates at their party as they agreed to each perform a speech in honour of Love.
“ For I do not know of any greater blessing for a young man than
Speechless in the face of Gilbert’s argument, Laurie sat back in his seat and stared numbly out the window as bidden, and began to understand why Gilbert did not believe in love or God.
T hey returned in silence to Gilbert’s residence, where they were served luncheon in the grand dining-hall, which had space for twenty and felt lonely and dark in the flickering light of the kerosene lamps. Laurie searched about for some subject which might serve to lighten the tense mood between them, but it was Gilbert who first supplied one.
“Have you read Plato’s Symposium , Laurie?”
Laurie looked up from his meal, wondering what aspect of their wager this topic might or might not concern. “I confess I have not. I know of it, but it was never assigned to my curriculum.”
“I shall lend you my copy,” Gilbert promised. “It is entirely relevant to our wager, though I find I disagree with Plato’s conclusions. I would gladly hear your perspective on the thing.”
“Really? I’d always heard it was nothing but a conversation at a dinner party, and not much worth reading unless one intended to make an exhaustive study of Plato.”
“Not at all. It is quite my favourite of Plato’s works,” Gilbert assured him, cheer returning to Gilbert’s handsome, rosy face as they conversed. “I think, rather, that the university dons discourage the reading of it on account of the behaviour it may promote among the students.”
That brought Laurie’s brows together in puzzled curiosity. “What behaviour?”
Gilbert’s grin widened with wicked playfulness, which he schooled into mock innocence. “I suppose you shall rather have to read it and find out, won’t you?”
“Very well. It has some concern for the topic of love?”
“The entire thing is writ upon the topic of love,” Gilbert confirmed. “Its origin and nature. Unlike ourselves, the characters presented in the Symposium make no question upon the existence of love, and seek only to divine its nature and purpose.”
“And do they?”
“They lead the narrative quite assuredly to Plato’s conclusion, and treat most beautifully upon the topic of love along the way. But it seems to me that in the end, Plato values philosophy and privation over the sort of passionate love described in Shakespeare’s sonnets. I do believe I’d rather have the latter.”
“Would you?” Laurie asked, his lips curling in a smile. “But you do argue that love does not exist.”
“And yet, as we have discussed, I still desire to feel it.”
Finishing their meal, the two of them rose and ventured upstairs to the library, where Gilbert took down a well-worn, handwritten journal. Laurie settled himself upon one of the couches, whereupon Gilbert sprawled across the couch with his head in Laurie’s lap. That made Laurie blush, but he tilted the book up as Gilbert opened it, looking at the small, slanting script with copious notes in the margins. “Is this your translation?”
“Yes,” Gilbert answered, and began to read. “ Symposion. As related by Apollodoros to his friend. I think that I am not unprepared to speak on the subject about which you ask… ”
Gilbert’s voice was smooth as cream as he read, pausing occasionally to make some comment about the translation. Relaxing back into the couch, Laurie let his hand rest in Gilbert’s soft curls, combing through them gently as Gilbert read to him about the illustrious company of Phaedrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Agathon, Alcibiades and Socrates at their party as they agreed to each perform a speech in honour of Love.
“ For I do not know of any greater blessing for a young man than
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