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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。


  Soc。 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 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; 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。


  Soc。 And you rhapsodists are the interpreters of the poets?


  Ion。 There again you are right。


  Soc。 Then you are the interpreters of interpreters?


  Ion。 Precisely。


  Soc。 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。


  Soc。 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 sweeping


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。


  Soc。 And are you aware that you produce similar effects on most


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。


  Soc。 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 undermasters 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 

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