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.)

The Ion is the shortest, or nearly the shortest, of all the works attributed to Plato. No early external evidence confirms its authenticity. The grace and beauty of this little work offer the only, and perhaps sufficient, proof that Plato wrote it. The plan is simple. The dramatic interest comes entirely from the contrast between Socrates' irony and the rhapsode Ion's obvious vanity and childlike enthusiasm. The Dialogue's theme may possibly have been suggested by a passage in Xenophon's Memorabilia. In that passage, Euthydemus describes the rhapsodists 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:—

Ion the rhapsode, a performer who recites poetry, has just arrived in Athens. He has been performing in Epidaurus at the festival of Asclepius and plans to perform at the Panathenaea festival. Socrates admires and envies the rhapsode's art, because the rhapsode is always well dressed and in good company. He keeps company with good poets and with Homer, the greatest of them. During their conversation, Ion admits that his skill is limited to Homer. He knows nothing of lesser poets, such as Hesiod and Archilochus. He lights up and becomes fully alert when Homer is recited, but tends to fall asleep during other poets' recitations. 'And yet, surely, anyone who knows the better poets ought to know the lesser ones too. Anyone who can judge a good speaker can also judge a bad one. And poetry is a whole. Anyone who judges poetry by the principles of the art ought to be able to judge all poetry.' Comparisons with sculpture, painting, flute-playing, and the other arts confirm this point. Ion finally grasps the argument and asks how this contradiction can be resolved. Socrates gives the following solution:

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.

The rhapsode, a performer of poetry, is not guided by the rules of an art. Instead, the rhapsode is inspired and draws a mysterious power from the poet. The poet, in turn, is inspired by God. Poets and their interpreters may be compared to a chain of magnetic rings hanging from one another and from a magnet. The magnet is the Muse, and the first ring hanging from the magnet is the poet himself. Other poets hang from him. A chain of rhapsodes and actors also hangs from the Muses, but extends down the side. The last ring of all is the spectator. The poet is God's inspired interpreter. This inspiration explains why some poets, like Homer, are limited to a single theme. It also explains why some poets, like Tynnichus, are famous for a single poem. The rhapsode, in turn, is the poet's inspired interpreter. For a similar reason, some rhapsodes, like Ion, interpret only one poet.

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.

Ion is delighted by the idea that he is inspired. He admits that he loses control of himself when performing. Tears stream from his eyes, and his hair stands on end. Socrates thinks a man must be mad to behave like this at a festival, surrounded by friends, with nothing troubling him. Ion is sure Socrates would never think him mad if he could only hear how he brings Homer to life. Socrates asks whether Ion can speak well about everything in Homer. 'Yes, indeed he can.' 'What about things he knows nothing about?' Ion answers that he can interpret anything in Homer. But Socrates asks who judges better when Homer discusses skilled activities, such as chariot-driving, medicine, prophecy, or navigation. Is it Ion, or the charioteer, physician, prophet, or pilot? Ion has to admit that each expert judges his own particular skill better than the rhapsode, a performer of poetry. Still, Ion insists that he understands the general's art as well as anyone. 'Then why is he not immediately appointed a general in Athens, where they are always looking for capable men?' Ion replies that he is a foreigner, and the Athenians and Spartans will not appoint a foreigner as their general. 'No, that is not the real reason. There are many examples that prove otherwise. But Ion has long been playing tricks with the argument. Like Proteus, he changes into many shapes. Now he is finally about to escape disguised as a general. Would he rather be seen as inspired or dishonest?' Ion, who does not suspect Socrates of irony, eagerly chooses 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.

Like the other early Platonic Dialogues, the Ion mixes humor with seriousness. No definite conclusion is reached, but some Socratic or Platonic truths emerge faintly.

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.

The idea that the poet is inspired contains the foundations of a true theory of poetry. Genius is often said to be unconscious, spontaneous, or a gift of nature. The saying that 'genius is akin to madness' is popular in modern times. The greatest strength is seen to involve some limitation. Sensation or passion can overwhelm the 'dry light' of intelligence, which mixes with them and is colored by them. Imagination is often at odds with reason and fact. Focusing the mind on one object, or one aspect of human nature, overwhelms its ability to see the whole clearly. Yet feelings also bring truths home to many people who could not understand those truths through reason. Thoughts like these may have been in Plato's mind when he describes the poet as inspired. They may also explain his statement in the Apology that poets are the worst critics of their own writing. Anyone chosen at random from the crowd can interpret their work better than the poets themselves. Poets are sacred people, 'winged and holy things' with a touch of madness in their nature (Phaedr.). They should be treated with every kind of respect (Republic), but not allowed to live in a well-ordered state. Like the Statesmen in the Meno, poets have a divine instinct, but their understanding is narrow and confused. They do not achieve clarity of ideas or knowledge of poetry, or 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.

In the Protagoras, Protagoras himself recognizes the ancient poets as the original sophists. A similar family resemblance may be traced in the Ion. The rhapsode, a performer of poetry, belongs to the realm of imitation and opinion. He claims to have all knowledge, drawn from Homer, just as the sophist claims to have all wisdom. For the sophist, all wisdom is contained in his art of rhetoric. Even more than the sophist, the rhapsode cannot grasp the most basic logical distinctions. He cannot explain the nature of his own art. His great memory contrasts with his inability to follow an argument step by step. And even in his most inspired moments, he keeps an eye on his own profits.

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.

The old quarrel between philosophy and poetry is already taking shape in Plato’s mind. In the Republic, this quarrel leads to their final separation. Here, Plato expresses the conflict through the contrast between Socrates and Ion. Yet here, as in the Republic, Socrates shows sympathy for the poetic temperament. Ion’s emotional response to his own recitations also vividly illustrates the power of dramatic performances over the performer’s mind. Socrates describes this power in the Republic. Ion refers to his elaborations on Homer, claiming to have surpassed Metrodorus of Lampsacus and Stesimbrotus of Thasos. This claim seems to show that, like them, he belonged to the school of interpreters who read poetry as allegory. The fact that nothing more is known about Ion may support the argument that this genuinely Platonic little work is not a later forgery.