Ion
ION: The same.
SOCRATES: And he will be the arithmetician?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: Well, and in discussions about the wholesomeness of food, when
many persons are speaking, and one speaks better than the rest, will
he who recognizes the better speaker be a different person from him who
recognizes the worse, or the same?
ION: Clearly the same.
SOCRATES: And who is he, and what is his name?
ION: The physician.
SOCRATES: And speaking generally, in all discussions in which the
subject is the same and many men are speaking, will not he who knows the
good know the bad speaker also? For if he does not know the bad, neither
will he know the good when the same topic is being discussed.
ION: True.
SOCRATES: Is not the same person skilful in both?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: And you say that Homer and the other poets, such as Hesiod and
Archilochus, speak of the same things, although not in the same way; but
the one speaks well and the other not so well?
ION: Yes; and I am right in saying so.
SOCRATES: And if you knew the good speaker, you would also know the
inferior speakers to be inferior?
ION: That is true.
SOCRATES: Then, my dear friend, can I be mistaken in saying that Ion
is equally skilled in Homer and in other poets, since he himself
acknowledges that the same person will be a good judge of all those who
speak of the same things; and that almost all poets do speak of the same
things?
ION: Why then, Socrates, do I lose attention and go to sleep and have
absolutely no ideas of the least value, when any one speaks of any
other poet; but when Homer is mentioned, I wake up at once and am all
attention and have plenty to say?
SOCRATES: The reason, my friend, is obvious. No one can fail to see that
you speak of Homer without any art or knowledge. If you were able to
speak of him by rules of art, you would have been able to speak of all
other poets; for poetry is a whole.
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: And when any one acquires any other art as a whole, the same
may be said of them. Would you like me to explain my meaning, Ion?
ION: Yes, indeed, Socrates; I very much wish that you would: for I love
to hear you wise men talk.
SOCRATES: O that we were wise, Ion, and that you could truly call us so;
but you rhapsodes and actors, and the poets whose verses you sing, are
wise; whereas I am a common man, who only speak the truth. For consider
what a very commonplace and trivial thing is this which I have said--a
thing which any man might say: that when a man has acquired a knowledge
of a whole art, the enquiry into good and bad is one and the same. Let
us consider this matter; is not the art of painting a whole?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: And there are and have been many painters good and bad?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: And did you ever know any one who was skilful in pointing
out the excellences and defects of Polygnotus the son of Aglaophon, but
incapable of criticizing other painters; and when the work of any other
painter was produced, went to sleep and was at a loss, and had no ideas;
but when he had to give his opinion about Polygnotus, or whoever the
painter might be, and about him only, woke up and was attentive and had
plenty to say?
ION: No indeed, I have never known such a person.
SOCRATES: Or did you ever know of any one in sculpture, who was skilful
in expounding the merits of Daedalus the son of Metion, or of Epeius
the son of Panopeus, or of Theodorus the Samian, or of any individual
sculptor; but when the works of sculptors in general were produced, was
at a loss and went to sleep and had nothing to say?
ION: No indeed; no more than the other.
SOCRATES: And if I am not mistaken, you never met with any one among
flute-players or harp-players or singers to the harp or rhapsodes who
was able to discourse of Olympus or Thamyras or Orpheus, or Phemius the
rhapsode of Ithaca, but was at a loss when he came to speak of Ion of
Ephesus, and had no notion of his merits or defects?
ION: I cannot deny what you say, Socrates. Nevertheless I am conscious
in my own self, and the world agrees with me in thinking that I do speak
better and have more to say about Homer than any other man. But I do not
speak equally well about others--tell me the reason of this.
SOCRATES: I perceive, Ion; and I will proceed to explain to you what I
imagine to be the reason of this. The gift which you possess of speaking
excellently about Homer is not an art, but, as I was just saying, an
inspiration; there is a divinity moving you, like that contained in the
stone which Euripides calls a magnet, but which is commonly known as
the stone of Heraclea. This stone not only attracts iron rings, but also
imparts to them a similar power of attracting other rings; and sometimes
you may see a number of pieces of iron and rings suspended from one
another so as to form quite a long chain: and all of them derive their
power of suspension from the original stone. In like manner the Muse
first of all inspires men herself; and from these inspired persons a
chain of other persons is suspended, who take the inspiration. For all
good poets, epic as well as lyric, compose their beautiful poems not by
art, but because they are inspired and possessed. And as the Corybantian
revellers when they dance are not in their right mind, so the lyric
poets are not in their right mind when they are composing their
beautiful strains: but when falling under the power of music and metre
they are inspired and possessed; like Bacchic maidens who draw milk and
honey from the rivers when they are under the influence of Dionysus but
not when they are in their right mind. And the soul of the lyric poet
does the same, as they themselves say; for they tell us that they bring
songs from honeyed fountains, culling them out of the gardens and dells
of the Muses; they, like the bees, winging their way from flower to
flower. And this is true. For the poet is a light and winged and holy
thing, and there is no invention in him until he has been inspired and
is out of his senses, and the mind is no longer in him: when he has
not attained to this state, he is powerless and is unable to utter his
oracles. Many are the noble words in which poets speak concerning the
actions of men; but like yourself when speaking about Homer, they do
not speak of them by any rules of art: they are simply inspired to utter
that to which the Muse impels them, and that only; and when inspired,
one of them will make dithyrambs, another hymns of praise, another
choral strains, another epic or iambic verses--and he who is good at
one is not good at any other kind of verse: for not by art does the poet
sing, but by power divine. Had he learned by rules of art, he would have
known how to speak not of one theme only, but of all; and therefore God
takes away the minds of poets, and uses them as his ministers, as he
also uses diviners and holy prophets, in order that we who hear them
may know them to be speaking not of themselves who utter these priceless
words in a state of unconsciousness, but that God himself is the
speaker, and that through them he is conversing with us. And Tynnichus
the Chalcidian affords a striking instance of what I am saying: he wrote
nothing that any one would care to remember but the famous paean which
is in every one's mouth, one of the finest poems ever written, simply
an invention of the Muses, as he himself says. For in this way the
God would seem to indicate to us and not allow us to doubt that these
beautiful poems are not human, or the work of man, but divine and the
work of God; and that the poets are only the interpreters of the Gods by
whom they are severally possessed. Was not this the lesson which the God
intended to teach when by the mouth of the worst of poets he sang the
best of songs? Am I not right, Ion?
ION: Yes, indeed, Socrates, I feel that you are; for your words touch
my soul, and I am persuaded that good poets by a divine inspiration
interpret the things of the Gods to us.
SOCRATES: And you rhapsodists are the interpreters of the poets?
ION: There again you are right.
SOCRATES: Then you are the interpreters of interpreters?
ION: Precisely.
SOCRATES: I wish you would frankly tell me, Ion, what I am going to ask
of you: When you produce the greatest effect upon the audience in the
recitation of some striking passage, such as the apparition of Odysseus
leaping forth on the floor, recognized by the suitors and casting his
arrows at his feet, or the description of Achilles rushing at Hector,
or the sorrows of Andromache, Hecuba, or Priam,--are you in your right
mind? Are you not carried out of yourself, and does not your soul in
an ecstasy seem to be among the persons or places of which you are
speaking, whether they are in Ithaca or in Troy or whatever may be the
scene of the poem?
ION: That proof strikes home to me, Socrates. For I must frankly confess
that at the tale of pity my eyes are filled with tears, and when I speak
of horrors, my hair stands on end and my heart throbs.
SOCRATES: Well, Ion, and what are we to say of a man who at a sacrifice
or festival, when he is dressed in holiday attire, and has golden
crowns upon his head, of which nobody has robbed him, appears weeping
or panic-stricken in the presence of more than twenty thousand friendly
faces, when there is no one despoiling or wronging him;--is he in his
right mind or is he not?
ION: No indeed, Socrates, I must say that, strictly speaking, he is not
in his right mind.
SOCRATES: And are you aware that you produce similar effects on most of
the spectators?
ION: Only too well; for I look down upon them from the stage, and behold
the various emotions of pity, wonder, sternness, stamped upon their
countenances when I am speaking: and I am obliged to give my very best
attention to them; for if I make them cry I myself shall laugh, and if I
make them laugh I myself shall cry when the time of payment arrives.
SOCRATES: Do you know that the spectator is the last of the rings
which, as I am saying, receive the power of the original magnet from
one another? The rhapsode like yourself and the actor are intermediate
links, and the poet himself is the first of them. Through all these the
God sways the souls of men in any direction which he pleases, and makes
one man hang down from another. Thus there is a vast chain of dancers
and masters and under-masters of choruses, who are suspended, as if from
the stone, at the side of the rings which hang down from the Muse. And
every poet has some Muse from whom he is suspended, and by whom he is
said to be possessed, which is nearly the same thing; for he is taken
hold of. And from these first rings, which are the poets, depend others,
some deriving their inspiration from Orpheus, others from Musaeus; but
the greater number are possessed and held by Homer. Of whom, Ion, you
are one, and are possessed by Homer; and when any one repeats the words
of another poet you go to sleep, and know not what to say; but when any
one recites a strain of Homer you wake up in a moment, and your
soul leaps within you, and you have plenty to say; for not by art or
knowledge about Homer do you say what you say, but by divine inspiration
and by possession; just as the Corybantian revellers too have a quick
perception of that strain only which is appropriated to the God by whom
they are possessed, and have plenty of dances and words for that, but
take no heed of any other. And you, Ion, when the name of Homer is
mentioned have plenty to say, and have nothing to say of others. You
ask, 'Why is this?' The answer is that you praise Homer not by art but
by divine inspiration.
ION: That is good, Socrates; and yet I doubt whether you will ever have
eloquence enough to persuade me that I praise Homer only when I am mad