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.
from here, start ION's story.
five, four, three, two, one,,,,,,,,
ION.
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?
ION: The charioteer, clearly.
SOCRATES: And will the reason be that this
is his art, or will there be any other reason?
ION: No, that will be the reason.
SOCRATES: And every art is appointed by God
to have knowledge of a certain work; for that
which we know by the art of the pilot we do
not know by the art of medicine?
ION: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Nor do we know by the art of the
carpenter that which we know by the art of
medicine?
ION: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And this is true of all the arts;—that
which we know with one art we do not know
with the other?
But let me ask a prior question: You admit
that there are differences of arts?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: You would argue, as I should, that
when one art is of one kind of knowledge and
another of another, they are different?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: Yes, surely; for if the subject
of knowledge were the same, there would be
no meaning in saying that the arts were different,—if
they both gave the same knowledge.
For example, I know that here are five fingers,
and you know the same.
And if I were to ask whether I and you became
acquainted with this fact by the help of the
same art of arithmetic, you would acknowledge
that we did?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: Tell me, then, what I was intending
to ask you,—whether this holds universally?
Must the same art have the same subject of
knowledge, and different arts other subjects
of knowledge?
ION: That is my opinion, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then he who has no knowledge of
a particular art will have no right judgment
of the sayings and doings of that art?
ION: Very true.
SOCRATES: Then which will be a better judge
of the lines which you were reciting from
Homer, you or the charioteer?
ION: The charioteer.
SOCRATES: Why, yes, because you are a rhapsode
and not a charioteer.
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the art of the rhapsode is different
from that of the charioteer?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: And if a different knowledge, then
a knowledge of different matters?
ION: True.
SOCRATES: You know the passage in which Hecamede,
the concubine of Nestor, is described as giving
to the wounded Machaon a posset, as he says,
'Made with Pramnian wine; and she grated cheese
of goat's milk with a grater of bronze, and
at his side placed an onion which gives a
relish to drink (Il.).'
Now would you say that the art of the rhapsode
or the art of medicine was better able to
judge of the propriety of these lines?
ION: The art of medicine.
SOCRATES: And when Homer says,
'And she descended into the deep like a leaden
plummet, which, set in the horn of ox that
ranges in the fields, rushes along carrying
death among the ravenous fishes (Il.),'—
will the art of the fisherman or of the rhapsode
be better able to judge whether these lines
are rightly expressed or not?
ION: Clearly, Socrates, the art of the fisherman.
SOCRATES: Come now, suppose that you were
to say to me: 'Since you, Socrates, are able
to assign different passages in Homer to their
corresponding arts, I wish that you would
tell me what are the passages of which the
excellence ought to be judged by the prophet
and prophetic art'; and you will see how readily
and truly I shall answer you.
For there are many such passages, particularly
in the Odyssee; as, for example, the passage
in which Theoclymenus the prophet of the house
of Melampus says to the suitors:—
'Wretched men! what is happening to you?
Your heads and your faces and your limbs underneath
are shrouded in night; and the voice of lamentation
bursts forth, and your cheeks are wet with
tears.
And the vestibule is full, and the court is
full, of ghosts descending into the darkness
of Erebus, and the sun has perished out of
heaven, and an evil mist is spread abroad
(Od.).'
And there are many such passages in the Iliad
also; as for example in the description of
the battle near the rampart, where he says:—
'As they were eager to pass the ditch, there
came to them an omen: a soaring eagle, holding
back the people on the left, bore a huge bloody
dragon in his talons, still living and panting;
nor had he yet resigned the strife, for he
bent back and smote the bird which carried
him on the breast by the neck, and he in pain
let him fall from him to the ground into the
midst of the multitude.
And the eagle, with a cry, was borne afar
on the wings of the wind (Il.).'
These are the sort of things which I should
say that the prophet ought to consider and
determine.
ION: And you are quite right, Socrates, in
saying so.
SOCRATES: Yes, Ion, and you are right also.
And as I have selected from the Iliad and
Odyssee for you passages which describe the
office of the prophet and the physician and
the fisherman, do you, who know Homer so much
better than I do, Ion, select for me passages
which relate to the rhapsode and the rhapsode's
art, and which the rhapsode ought to examine
and judge of better than other men.
ION: All passages, I should say, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Not all, Ion, surely.
Have you already forgotten what you were saying?
A rhapsode ought to have a better memory.
ION: Why, what am I forgetting?
SOCRATES: Do you not remember that you declared
the art of the rhapsode to be different from
the art of the charioteer?
ION: Yes, I remember.
SOCRATES: And you admitted that being different
they would have different subjects of knowledge?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then upon your own showing the rhapsode,
and the art of the rhapsode, will not know
everything?
ION: I should exclude certain things, Socrates.
SOCRATES: You mean to say that you would exclude
pretty much the subjects of the other arts.
As he does not know all of them, which of
them will he know?
ION: He will know what a man and what a woman
ought to say, and what a freeman and what
a slave ought to say, and what a ruler and
what a subject.
SOCRATES: Do you mean that a rhapsode will
know better than the pilot what the ruler
of a sea-tossed vessel ought to say?
ION: No; the pilot will know best.
SOCRATES: Or will the rhapsode know better
than the physician what the ruler of a sick
man ought to say?
ION: He will not.
SOCRATES: But he will know what a slave ought
to say?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: Suppose the slave to be a cowherd;
the rhapsode will know better than the cowherd
what he ought to say in order to soothe the
infuriated cows?
ION: No, he will not.
SOCRATES: But he will know what a spinning-woman
ought to say about the working of wool?
ION: No.
SOCRATES: At any rate he will know what a
general ought to say when exhorting his soldiers?
ION: Yes, that is the sort of thing which
the rhapsode will be sure to know.
SOCRATES: Well, but is the art of the rhapsode
the art of the general?
ION: I am sure that I should know what a general
ought to say.
SOCRATES: Why, yes, Ion, because you may possibly
have a knowledge of the art of the general
as well as of the rhapsode; and you may also
have a knowledge of horsemanship as well as
of the lyre: and then you would know when
horses were well or ill managed.
But suppose I were to ask you: By the help
of which art, Ion, do you know whether horses
are well managed, by your skill as a horseman
or as a performer on the lyre—what would
you answer?
ION: I should reply, by my skill as a horseman.
SOCRATES: And if you judged of performers
on the lyre, you would admit that you judged
of them as a performer on the lyre, and not
as a horseman?
ION: Yes.
SOCRATES: And in judging of the general's
art, do you judge of it as a general or a
rhapsode?
ION: To me there appears to be no difference
between them.
SOCRATES: What do you mean?
Do you mean to say that the art of the rhapsode
and of the general is the same?
ION: Yes, one and the same.
SOCRATES: Then he who is a good rhapsode is
also a good general?
ION: Certainly, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And he who is a good general is
also a good rhapsode?
ION: No; I do not say that.
SOCRATES: But you do say that he who is a
good rhapsode is also a good general.
ION: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And you are the best of Hellenic
rhapsodes?
ION: Far the best, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And are you the best general, Ion?
ION: To be sure, Socrates; and Homer was my
master.
SOCRATES: But then, Ion, what in the name
of goodness can be the reason why you, who
are the best of generals as well as the best
of rhapsodes in all Hellas, go about as a
rhapsode when you might be a general?
Do you think that the Hellenes want a rhapsode
with his golden crown, and do not want a general?
ION: Why, Socrates, the reason is, that my
countrymen, the Ephesians, are the servants
and soldiers of Athens, and do not need a
general; and you and Sparta are not likely
to have me, for you think that you have enough
generals of your own.
SOCRATES: My good Ion, did you never hear
of Apollodorus of Cyzicus?
ION: Who may he be?
SOCRATES: One who, though a foreigner, has
often been chosen their general by the Athenians:
and there is Phanosthenes of Andros, and Heraclides
of Clazomenae, whom they have also appointed
to the command of their armies and to other
offices, although aliens, after they had shown
their merit.
And will they not choose Ion the Ephesian
to be their general, and honour him, if he
prove himself worthy?
Were not the Ephesians originally Athenians,
and Ephesus is no mean city?
But, indeed, Ion, if you are correct in saying
that by art and knowledge you are able to
praise Homer, you do not deal fairly with
me, and after all your professions of knowing
many glorious things about Homer, and promises
that you would exhibit them, you are only
a deceiver, and so far from exhibiting the
art of which you are a master, will not, even
after my repeated entreaties, explain to me
the nature of it.
You have literally as many forms as Proteus;
and now you go all manner of ways, twisting
and turning, and, like Proteus, become all
manner of people at once, and at last slip
away from me in the disguise of a general,
in order that you may escape exhibiting your
Homeric lore.
And if you have art, then, as I was saying,
in falsifying your promise that you would
exhibit Homer, you are not dealing fairly
with me.
But if, as I believe, you have no art, but
speak all these beautiful words about Homer
unconsciously under his inspiring influence,
then I acquit you of dishonesty, and shall
only say that you are inspired.
Which do you prefer to be thought, dishonest
or inspired?
ION: There is a great difference, Socrates,
between the two alternatives; and inspiration
is by far the nobler.
SOCRATES: Then, Ion, I shall assume the nobler
alternative; and attribute to you in your
praises of Homer inspiration, and not art.
