Ion

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ION

by Plato

Translated by Benjamin Jowett

INTRODUCTION.

The Ion is the shortest, or nearly the shortest, of all the writings which
bear the name of Plato, and is not authenticated by any early external
testimony. The grace and beauty of this little work supply the only, and
perhaps a sufficient, proof of its genuineness. The plan is simple; the
dramatic interest consists entirely in the contrast between the irony of
Socrates and the transparent vanity and childlike enthusiasm of the
rhapsode Ion. The theme of the Dialogue may possibly have been suggested
by the passage of Xenophon's Memorabilia in which the rhapsodists are
described by Euthydemus as 'very precise about the exact words of Homer,
but very idiotic themselves.' (Compare Aristotle, Met.)

Ion the rhapsode has just come to Athens; he has been exhibiting in
Epidaurus at the festival of Asclepius, and is intending to exhibit at the
festival of the Panathenaea. Socrates admires and envies the rhapsode's
art; for he is always well dressed and in good company--in the company of
good poets and of Homer, who is the prince of them. In the course of
conversation the admission is elicited from Ion that his skill is
restricted to Homer, and that he knows nothing of inferior poets, such as
Hesiod and Archilochus;--he brightens up and is wide awake when Homer is
being recited, but is apt to go to sleep at the recitations of any other
poet. 'And yet, surely, he who knows the superior ought to know the
inferior also;--he who can judge of the good speaker is able to judge of
the bad. And poetry is a whole; and he who judges of poetry by rules of
art ought to be able to judge of all poetry.' This is confirmed by the
analogy of sculpture, painting, flute-playing, and the other arts. The
argument is at last brought home to the mind of Ion, who asks how this
contradiction is to be solved. The solution given by Socrates is as
follows:--

The rhapsode is not guided by rules of art, but is an inspired person who
derives a mysterious power from the poet; and the poet, in like manner, is
inspired by the God. The poets and their interpreters may be compared to a
chain of magnetic rings suspended from one another, and from a magnet. The
magnet is the Muse, and the ring which immediately follows is the poet
himself; from him are suspended other poets; there is also a chain of
rhapsodes and actors, who also hang from the Muses, but are let down at the
side; and the last ring of all is the spectator. The poet is the inspired
interpreter of the God, and this is the reason why some poets, like Homer,
are restricted to a single theme, or, like Tynnichus, are famous for a
single poem; and the rhapsode is the inspired interpreter of the poet, and
for a similar reason some rhapsodes, like Ion, are the interpreters of
single poets.

Ion is delighted at the notion of being inspired, and acknowledges that he
is beside himself when he is performing;--his eyes rain tears and his hair
stands on end. Socrates is of opinion that a man must be mad who behaves
in this way at a festival when he is surrounded by his friends and there is
nothing to trouble him. Ion is confident that Socrates would never think
him mad if he could only hear his embellishments of Homer. Socrates asks
whether he can speak well about everything in Homer. 'Yes, indeed he can.'
'What about things of which he has no knowledge?' Ion answers that he can
interpret anything in Homer. But, rejoins Socrates, when Homer speaks of
the arts, as for example, of chariot-driving, or of medicine, or of
prophecy, or of navigation--will he, or will the charioteer or physician or
prophet or pilot be the better judge? Ion is compelled to admit that every
man will judge of his own particular art better than the rhapsode. He
still maintains, however, that he understands the art of the general as
well as any one. 'Then why in this city of Athens, in which men of merit
are always being sought after, is he not at once appointed a general?' Ion
replies that he is a foreigner, and the Athenians and Spartans will not
appoint a foreigner to be their general. 'No, that is not the real reason;
there are many examples to the contrary. But Ion has long been playing
tricks with the argument; like Proteus, he transforms himself into a
variety of shapes, and is at last about to run away in the disguise of a
general. Would he rather be regarded as inspired or dishonest?' Ion, who
has no suspicion of the irony of Socrates, eagerly embraces the alternative
of inspiration.

The Ion, like the other earlier Platonic Dialogues, is a mixture of jest
and earnest, in which no definite result is obtained, but some Socratic or
Platonic truths are allowed dimly to appear.

The elements of a true theory of poetry are contained in the notion that
the poet is inspired. Genius is often said to be unconscious, or
spontaneous, or a gift of nature: that 'genius is akin to madness' is a
popular aphorism of modern times. The greatest strength is observed to
have an element of limitation. Sense or passion are too much for the 'dry
light' of intelligence which mingles with them and becomes discoloured by
them. Imagination is often at war with reason and fact. The concentration
of the mind on a single object, or on a single aspect of human nature,
overpowers the orderly perception of the whole. Yet the feelings too bring
truths home to the minds of many who in the way of reason would be
incapable of understanding them. Reflections of this kind may have been
passing before Plato's mind when he describes the poet as inspired, or
when, as in the Apology, he speaks of poets as the worst critics of their
own writings--anybody taken at random from the crowd is a better
interpreter of them than they are of themselves. They are sacred persons,
'winged and holy things' who have a touch of madness in their composition
(Phaedr.), and should be treated with every sort of respect (Republic), but
not allowed to live in a well-ordered state. Like the Statesmen in the
Meno, they have a divine instinct, but they are narrow and confused; they
do not attain to the clearness of ideas, or to the knowledge of poetry or
of any other art as a whole.

In the Protagoras the ancient poets are recognized by Protagoras himself as
the original sophists; and this family resemblance may be traced in the
Ion. The rhapsode belongs to the realm of imitation and of opinion: he
professes to have all knowledge, which is derived by him from Homer, just
as the sophist professes to have all wisdom, which is contained in his art
of rhetoric. Even more than the sophist he is incapable of appreciating
the commonest logical distinctions; he cannot explain the nature of his own
art; his great memory contrasts with his inability to follow the steps of
the argument. And in his highest moments of inspiration he has an eye to
his own gains.

The old quarrel between philosophy and poetry, which in the Republic leads
to their final separation, is already working in the mind of Plato, and is
embodied by him in the contrast between Socrates and Ion. Yet here, as in
the Republic, Socrates shows a sympathy with the poetic nature. Also, the
manner in which Ion is affected by his own recitations affords a lively
illustration of the power which, in the Republic, Socrates attributes to
dramatic performances over the mind of the performer. His allusion to his
embellishments of Homer, in which he declares himself to have surpassed
Metrodorus of Lampsacus and Stesimbrotus of Thasos, seems to show that,
like them, he belonged to the allegorical school of interpreters. The
circumstance that nothing more is known of him may be adduced in
confirmation of the argument that this truly Platonic little work is not a
forgery of later times.

ION

by

Plato

Translated by Benjamin Jowett

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, Ion.

SOCRATES: Welcome, Ion. Are you from your native city of Ephesus?

ION: No, Socrates; but from Epidaurus, where I attended the festival of
Asclepius.

SOCRATES: And do the Epidaurians have contests of rhapsodes at the
festival?

ION: O yes; and of all sorts of musical performers.

SOCRATES: And were you one of the competitors--and did you succeed?

ION: I obtained the first prize of all, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Well done; and I hope that you will do the same for us at the
Panathenaea.

ION: And I will, please heaven.

SOCRATES: I often envy the profession of a rhapsode, Ion; for you have
always to wear fine clothes, and to look as beautiful as you can is a part
of your art. Then, again, you are obliged to be continually in the company
of many good poets; and especially of Homer, who is the best and most
divine of them; and to understand him, and not merely learn his words by
rote, is a thing greatly to be envied. And no man can be a rhapsode who
does not understand the meaning of the poet. For the rhapsode ought to
interpret the mind of the poet to his hearers, but how can he interpret him
well unless he knows what he means? All this is greatly to be envied.

ION: Very true, Socrates; interpretation has certainly been the most
laborious part of my art; and I believe myself able to speak about Homer
better than any man; and that neither Metrodorus of Lampsacus, nor
Stesimbrotus of Thasos, nor Glaucon, nor any one else who ever was, had as
good ideas about Homer as I have, or as many.

SOCRATES: I am glad to hear you say so, Ion; I see that you will not
refuse to acquaint me with them.

ION: Certainly, Socrates; and you really ought to hear how exquisitely I
render Homer. I think that the Homeridae should give me a golden crown.

SOCRATES: I shall take an opportunity of hearing your embellishments of
him at some other time. But just now I should like to ask you a question:
Does your art extend to Hesiod and Archilochus, or to Homer only?

ION: To Homer only; he is in himself quite enough.

SOCRATES: Are there any things about which Homer and Hesiod agree?

ION: Yes; in my opinion there are a good many.

SOCRATES: And can you interpret better what Homer says, or what Hesiod
says, about these matters in which they agree?

ION: I can interpret them equally well, Socrates, where they agree.

SOCRATES: But what about matters in which they do not agree?--for example,
about divination, of which both Homer and Hesiod have something to say,--

ION: Very true:

SOCRATES: Would you or a good prophet be a better interpreter of what
these two poets say about divination, not only when they agree, but when
they disagree?

ION: A prophet.

SOCRATES: And if you were a prophet, would you not be able to interpret
them when they disagree as well as when they agree?

ION: Clearly.

SOCRATES: But how did you come to have this skill about Homer only, and
not about Hesiod or the other poets? Does not Homer speak of the same
themes which all other poets handle? Is not war his great argument? and
does he not speak of human society and of intercourse of men, good and bad,
skilled and unskilled, and of the gods conversing with one another and with
mankind, and about what happens in heaven and in the world below, and the
generations of gods and heroes? Are not these the themes of which Homer
sings?

ION: Very true, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And do not the other poets sing of the same?

ION: Yes, Socrates; but not in the same way as Homer.

SOCRATES: What, in a worse way?

ION: Yes, in a far worse.

SOCRATES: And Homer in a better way?

ION: He is incomparably better.

SOCRATES: And yet surely, my dear friend Ion, in a discussion about
arithmetic, where many people are speaking, and one speaks better than the
rest, there is somebody who can judge which of them is the good speaker?

ION: Yes.

SOCRATES: And he who judges of the good will be the same as he who judges
of the bad speakers?

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 and
possessed; and if you could hear me speak of him I am sure you would never
think this to be the case.

SOCRATES: I should like very much to hear you, but not until you have
answered a question which I have to ask. On what part of Homer do you
speak well?--not surely about every part.

ION: There is no part, Socrates, about which I do not speak well: of that
I can assure you.

SOCRATES: Surely not about things in Homer of which you have no knowledge?

ION: And what is there in Homer of which I have no knowledge?

SOCRATES: Why, does not Homer speak in many passages about arts? For
example, about driving; if I can only remember the lines I will repeat
them.

ION: I remember, and will repeat them.

SOCRATES: Tell me then, what Nestor says to Antilochus, his son, where he
bids him be careful of the turn at the horserace in honour of Patroclus.

ION: 'Bend gently,' he says, 'in the polished chariot to the left of them,
and urge the horse on the right hand with whip and voice; and slacken the
rein. And when you are at the goal, let the left horse draw near, yet so
that the nave of the well-wrought wheel may not even seem to touch the
extremity; and avoid catching the stone (Il.).'

SOCRATES: Enough. Now, Ion, will the charioteer or the physician be the
better judge of the propriety of these lines?

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