works of other sculptors were produced, was at a loss and went to sleep and had nothing to say?

Ion. No indeed, I never did.

Soc. 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 that, Socrates. Nevertheless I am conscious in my own self that I do speak better and have more to say about Homer than any other man, and this is the general opinion. But I do not speak equally well about others tell me the reason of this?

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Soc. I perceive, Ion; and I will proceed to explain to you what I imagine to be the reason of this. This gift which you bave 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 in the stone which Euripides calls a magnet, but which is commonly known as the stone of Heraclea. For that 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. Now this is like the Muse, who first gives to men inspiration herself: and from these inspired persons a chain of other persons is suspended, who take the inspiration from them. For all good poets, epic as well as lyric, compose their beautiful poems not as works of art, but because they are inspired and possessed. And as the Corybantian revelers when they dance are 534 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 teli us; for they tell us that they gather their strains from honeyed fountains out of the gardens and dells of the Muses; thither, like the bees, they wing their way. And this is true. For the poet is a light and winged and holy thing, and there is no in

vention 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 of actions like your own words about Homer; but they do not speak of them by any rules of art: only when they make that to which the muse impels them are their inventions inspired; and then 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 uot 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 that they speak not of themselves who utter these priceless words in a state of unconsciousness, but that God 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 pæan which is in every one's mouth, and is one of the finest poems ever written, and is certainly 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 word 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? 535 Ion. Yes, indeed, Socrates, I feel that you are; for your words touch my soul, and I am persuaded somehow that good poets are the inspired interpreters of the gods.

Soc. And you rhapsodists are the interpreters of the poets? Ion. That again is true.

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 spectators 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 she is 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 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 gold 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 spoiling 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 of the spectators?

Ion. Yes indeed, I am; 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 attend to them; for unless I make them cry I myself shall not laugh, and if I make them laugh, I shall do anything but laugh myself when the hour of payment arrives.

Soc. Do you know that the spectator is the last of the rings which, as I am saying, derive their power from the original magnet; and the rhapsode like yourself and the actors are intermediate links, and the poet himself is the first link of 536 all? And through all these the God sways the souls of men in any direction which he pleases, and makes one man hang down from another. There is also a chain of dancers and masters and undermasters of bands, who are suspended at the side, and are the rings which hang from the Muse. And every poet has a 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 possession 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 which latter you are one, Ion, possessed by Homer; and when any one repeats the verses 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 revelers 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 too, Ion, when the name of Homer is mentioned have plenty to say, and nothing to say of others. And the reason of this is, that you praise Homer not by art but by divine inspiration: and this is the answer to your question.

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 that you would never think that.

Soc. 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.

Soc. Surely not about things in Homer of which you have no knowledge?

Ion. And what is there of which Homer speaks of which I have no knowledge?

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Soc. 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.

Soc. Tell me, then, what Nestor says to Antilochus, his son, where he tells him to be careful of the bend at the horse-race in honor of Patroclus.

Ion. "Bend gently," he says, "in the polished chariot to the left of them, and give the horse on the right hand a touch of the whip, and shout—and at the same time slacken his 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 keep from catching the stone." 1

1 Il. xxiii. 335.

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

Ion. The charioteer, clearly.

Soc. And will the reason be that this is his art, or will there be any other reason?

Ion. No, that will be the reason.

Soc. 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.

Soc. Nor do we know by the art of the carpenter that which we know by the art of medicine?

Ion. Certainly not.

Soc. 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 preface this question by another: You admit that there are differences of arts?

Ion. Yes.

Soc. You would argue, as I should, that when the subject of knowledge is different, the art is also different?

lon. Yes.

Soc. Yes; for surely, 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 science of arithmetic, you would acknowledge that we did?

Ion. Yes.

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Soc. Tell me, then, what I was going to ask you just now, whether this holds universally? Must the same art have the same subject of knowledge, and any others have other subjects of knowledge?

Ion. That is my opinion, Socrates.

Soc. Then he who has no knowledge of a particular art will have no right judgment of the sayings and doings of that art? Ion. That is true.

Soc. Then which will be a better judge of the lines of Homer which you were reciting, you or the charioteer?

Ion. The charioteer.

Soc. Why, yes, because you are a rhapsode and not a charioteer.