Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates, 3rd ed. Volume 2

Plato’s view — that the philosopher has a province special to himself, distinct from other specialties — dimly indicated — regal or political art.

Plato undoubtedly did not conceive the definition of the philosopher in the same way as Sokrates. The close of the Erastæ is employed in opening a distant and dim view of the Platonic conception. We are given to understand, that the philosopher has a province of his own, wherein he is not second-best, but a first-rate actor and adviser. To indicate, in many different ways, that there is or must be such a peculiar, appertaining to philosophy — distinct from, though analogous to, the peculiar of each several art — is one leading purpose in many Platonic dialogues. But what is the peculiar of the philosopher? Here, as elsewhere, it is marked out in a sort of misty outline, not as by one who already knows and is familiar with it, but as one who is trying to find it without being sure that he has succeeded. Here, we have it described as the art of discriminating good from evil, governing, and applying penal sanctions rightly. This is the supreme art or science, of which the philosopher is the professor; and in which, far from requiring advice from others, he is the only person competent both to advise and to act: the art which exercises control over all other special arts, directing how far, and on what occasions, each of them comes into appliance. It is philosophy, looked at in one of its two aspects: not as a body of speculative truth, to be debated, proved, and discriminated from what cannot be proved or can be disproved — but as a critical judgment bearing on actual life, prescribing rules or giving directions in particular cases, with a view to the attainment of foreknown ends, recognised as expetenda.28 This is what Plato understands by the measuring or calculating art, the regal or political art, according as we use the language of the Protagoras, Politikus, Euthydêmus, Republic. Both justice and sobriety are branches of this art; and the distinction between the two loses its importance when the art is considered as a whole — as we find both in the Erastæ and in the Republic.29

Philosopher — the supreme artist controlling other artists.

APPENDIX.

This is one of the dialogues declared to be spurious by Schleiermacher, Ast, Socher, and Stallbaum, all of them critics of the present century. In my judgment, their grounds for such declaration are altogether inconclusive. They think the dialogue an inferior composition, unworthy of Plato; and they accordingly find reasons, more or less ingenious, for relieving Plato from the discredit of it. I do not think so meanly of the dialogue as they do; but even if I did, I should not pronounce it to be spurious, without some evidence bearing upon that special question. No such evidence, of any value, is produced.

It is indeed contended, on the authority of a passage in Diogenes (ix. 37), that Thrasyllus himself doubted of the authenticity of the Erastæ. The passage is as follows, in his life of Demokritus — εἴπερ οἱ Ἀντερασταὶ Πλάτωνός εἰσι, φησὶ Θράσυλλος, οὗτος ἂν εἴη ὁ παραγενόμενος ἀνώνυμος, τῶν περὶ Οἰνοπίδην καὶ Ἀναξαγόραν ἕτερος, ἐν τῇ πρὸς Σωκράτην ὁμιλίᾳ διαλεγόμενος περὶ φιλοσοφίας· ᾧ, φησίν, ὡς πεντάθλῳ ἔοικεν ὁ φιλόσοφος· καὶ ἦν ὡς ἀληθῶς ἐν φιλοσοφίᾳ πένταθλος (Demokritus).

Now in the first place, Schleiermacher and Stallbaum both declare that Thrasyllus can never have said that which Diogenes here makes him say (Schleierm. p. 510; Stallbaum, Prolegg. ad. Erast. p. 266, and not. p. 273).

Next, it is certain that Thrasyllus did consider it the undoubted work of Plato, for he enrolled it in his classification, as the third dialogue in the fourth tetralogy (Diog. L. iii. 59).

Yxem, who defends the genuineness of the Erastæ (Ueber Platon’s Kleitophon, pp. 6-7, Berlin, 1846), insists very properly on this point; not merely as an important fact in itself, but as determining the sense of the words εἴπερ οἱ Ἀντερασταὶ Πλάτωνός εἰσι, and as showing that the words rather affirm, than deny, the authenticity of the dialogue. “If the Anterastæ are the work of Plato, as they are universally admitted to be.” You must supply the parenthesis in this way, in order to make Thrasyllus consistent with himself. Yxem cites a passage from Galen, in which εἴπερ is used, and in which the parenthesis must be supplied in the way indicated: no doubt at all being meant to be hinted. And I will produce another passage out of Diogenes himself, where εἴπερ is used in the same way; not as intended to convey the smallest doubt, but merely introducing the premiss for a conclusion immediately following. Diogenes says, respecting the Platonic Ideas, εἴπερ ἐστὶ μνήμη, τὰς ἰδέας ἐν τοῖς οὖσιν ὑπάρχειν (iii. 15). He does not intend to suggest any doubt whether there be such a fact as memory. Εἴπερ is sometimes the equivalent of ἐπειδήπερ: as we learn from Hermann ad Viger. VIII. 6, p. 512.

There is therefore no fair ground for supposing that Thrasyllus doubted the genuineness of the Erastæ. And when I read what modern critics say in support of their verdict of condemnation, I feel the more authorised in dissenting from it. I will cite a passage or two from Stallbaum.

Stallbaum begins his Prolegomena as follows, pp. 205-206: “Quanquam hic libellus genus dicendi habet purum, castum, elegans, nihil ut inveniri queat quod à Platonis aut Xenophontis elegantiâ, abhorreat — tamen quin à Boeckhio, Schleiermachero, Astio, Sochero, Knebelio, aliis jure meritoque pro suppositicio habitus sit, haudquaquam dubitamus. Est enim materia operis adeo non ad Platonis mentem rationemque elaborata, ut potius cuivis alii Socraticorum quam huic rectè adscribi posse videatur.”

After stating that the Erastæ may be divided into two principal sections, Stallbaum proceeds:— “Neutra harum partium ita tractata est, ut nihil desideretur, quod ad justam argumenti explicationem merito requiras — nihil inculcatum reperiatur, quod vel alio modo illustratum vel omnino omissum esse cupias”.

I call attention to this sentence as a fair specimen of the grounds upon which the Platonic critics proceed when they strike dialogues out of the Platonic Canon. If there be anything wanting in it which is required for what they consider a proper setting forth of the argument — if there be anything which they would desire to see omitted or otherwise illustrated — this is with them a reason for deciding that it is not Plato’s work. That is, if there be any defects in it of any kind, it cannot be admitted as Plato’s work; — his genuine works have no defects. I protest altogether against this ratio decidendi. If I acknowledged it and applied it consistently I should strike out every dialogue in the Canon. Certainly, the presumption in favour of the Catalogue of Thrasyllus must be counted as nil, if it will not outweigh such feeble counter-arguments as these.

One reason given by Stallbaum for considering the Erastæ as spurious is, that the Sophists are not derided in it. “Quis est igitur, qui Platonem sibi persuadeat illos non fuisse castigaturum, et omnino non significaturum, quinam illi essent, adversus quos hanc disputationem instituisset?” It is strange to be called on by learned men to strike out all dialogues from the Canon in which there is no derision of the Sophists. Such derision exists already in excess: we hear until we are tired how mean it is to receive money for lecturing. Again, Stallbaum says that the persons whose opinions are here attacked are not specified by name. But who are the εἰδῶν φίλοι, attacked in the Sophistês? They are not specified by name, and critics differ as to the persons intended.

CHAPTER XVII.

Ion. Persons of the dialogue. Difference of opinion among modern critics as to its genuineness.

The dialogue called Ion is carried on between Sokrates and the Ephesian rhapsode Ion. It is among those disallowed by Ast, first faintly defended, afterwards disallowed, by Schleiermacher,1 and treated contemptuously by both. Subsequent critics, Hermann,2 Stallbaum, Steinhart, consider it as genuine, yet as an inferior production, of little worth, and belonging to Plato’s earliest years.

Rhapsodes as a class in Greece. They competed for prizes at the festivals. Ion has been triumphant.

I hold it to be genuine, and it may be comparatively early; but I see no ground for the disparaging criticism which has often been applied to it. The personage whom it introduces to us as subjected to the cross-examination of Sokrates is a rhapsode of celebrity; one among a class of artists at that time both useful and esteemed. They recited or sang,3 with appropriate accent and gesture, the compositions of Homer and of other epic poets: thus serving to the Grecian epic, the same purpose as the actors served to the dramatic, and the harp-singers (κιθαρῳδοὶ) to the lyric. There were various solemn festivals such as that of Æsculapius at Epidaurus, and (most especially) the Panathenæa at Athens, where prizes were awarded for the competition of the rhapsodes. Ion is described as having competed triumphantly in the festival at Epidaurus, and carried off the first prize. He appeared there in a splendid costume, crowned with a golden wreath, amidst a crowd which is described as containing more than 20,000 persons.4

Functions of the Rhapsodes. Recitation — Exposition of the poets. Arbitrary exposition of the poets was then frequent.

Much of the acquaintance of cultivated Greeks with Homer and the other epic poets was both acquired and maintained through such rhapsodes; the best of whom contended at the festivals, while others, less highly gifted as to vocal power and gesticulation, gave separate declamations and lectures of their own, and even private lessons to individuals.5 Euthydêmus, in one of the Xenophontic conversations with Sokrates, and Antisthenes in the Xenophontic Symposion, are made to declare that the rhapsodes as a class were extremely silly. This, if true at all, can apply only to the expositions and comments with which they accompanied their recital of Homer and other poets. Moreover we cannot reasonably set it down (though some modern critics do so) as so much incontestable truth: we must consider it as an opinion delivered by one of the speakers in the conversation, but not necessarily well founded.6 Unquestionably, the comments made upon Homer (both in that age and afterwards) were often fanciful and misleading. Metrodorus, Anaxagoras, and others, resolved the Homeric narrative into various allegories, physical, ethical, and theological: and most men who had an opinion to defend, rejoiced to be able to support or enforce it by some passages of Homer, well or ill-explained — just as texts of the Bible are quoted in modern times. In this manner, Homer was pressed into the service of every disputant; and the Homeric poems were presented as containing, or at least as implying, doctrines quite foreign to the age in which they were composed.7

The popularity of the Rhapsodes was chiefly derived from their recitation. Powerful effect which they produced.

The Rhapsodes, in so far as they interpreted Homer, were probably not less disposed than others to discover in him their own fancies. But the character in which they acquired most popularity, was, not as expositors, but as reciters, of the poems. The powerful emotion which, in the process of reciting, they both felt themselves and communicated to their auditors, is declared in this dialogue: “When that which I recite is pathetic (says Ion), my eyes are filled with tears: when it is awful or terrible, my hair stands on end, and my heart leaps. Moreover I see the spectators also weeping, sympathising with my emotions, and looking aghast at what they hear.”8 This assertion of the vehement emotional effect produced by the words of the poet as declaimed or sung by the rhapsode, deserves all the more credit — because Plato himself, far from looking upon it favourably, either derides or disapproves it. Accepting it as a matter of fact, we see that the influence of rhapsodes, among auditors generally, must have been derived more from their efficacy as actors than from their ability as expositors.

Ion both reciter and expositor — Homer was considered more as an instructor than as a poet.

Plato disregards and disapproves the poetic or emotional working.

The reader must keep in mind, in following the questions put by Sokrates, that this pædagogic and edifying view of Homer is the only one present to the men of the Sokratic school — and especially to Plato. Of the genuine functions of the gifted poet, who touches the chords of strong and diversified emotion — “qui pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet” (Horat. Epist. II. 1, 212) — Plato takes no account: or rather, he declares open war against them, either as childish delusions9, or as mischievous stimulants, tending to exalt the unruly elements of the mind, and to overthrow the sovereign authority of reason. We shall find farther manifestations on this point in the Republic and Leges.

Ion devoted himself to Homer exclusively. Questions of Sokrates to him — How happens it that you cannot talk equally upon other poets? The poetic art is one.

Ion professes to have devoted himself to the study of Homer exclusively, neglecting other poets: so that he can interpret the thoughts, and furnish reflections upon them, better than any other expositor.10 How does it happen (asked Sokrates) that you have so much to say about Homer, and nothing at all about other poets? Homer may be the best of all poets: but he is still only one of those who exercise the poetic art, and he must necessarily talk about the same subjects as other poets. Now the art of poetry is One altogether — like that of painting, sculpture, playing on the flute, playing on the harp, rhapsodizing, &c.11 Whoever is competent to judge and explain one artist, — what he has done well and what he has done ill, — is competent also to judge any other artist in the same profession.

I cannot explain to you how it happens (replies Ion): I only know the fact incontestably — that when I talk about Homer, my thoughts flow abundantly, and every one tells me that my discourse is excellent. Quite the reverse, when I talk of any other poet.12

Explanation given by Sokrates. Both the Rhapsode and the Poet work, not by art and system, but by divine inspiration. Fine poets are bereft of their reason, and possessed by inspiration from some God.

I can explain it (says Sokrates). Your talent in expounding Homer is not an art, acquired by system and method — otherwise it would have been applicable to other poets besides. It is a special gift, imparted to you by divine power and inspiration. The like is true of the poet whom you expound. His genius does not spring from art, system, or method: it is a special gift emanating from the inspiration of the Muses.13 A poet is a light, airy, holy, person, who cannot compose verses at all so long as his reason remains within him.14 The Muses take away his reason, substituting in place of it their own divine inspiration and special impulse, either towards epic, dithyramb, encomiastic hymns, hyporchemata, &c., one or other of these. Each poet receives one of these special gifts, but is incompetent for any of the others: whereas, if their ability had been methodical or artistic, it would have displayed itself in all of them alike. Like prophets, and deliverers of oracles, these poets have their reason taken away, and become servants of the Gods.15 It is not they who, bereft of their reason, speak in such sublime strains: it is the God who speaks to us, and speaks through them. You may see this by Tynnichus of Chalkis; who composed his Pæan, the finest of all Pæans, which is in every one’s mouth, telling us himself, that it was the invention of the Muses — but who never composed anything else worth hearing. It is through this worthless poet that the God has sung the most sublime hymn:16 for the express purpose of showing us that these fine compositions are not human performances at all, but divine: and that the poet is only an interpreter of the Gods, possessed by one or other of them, as the case may be.

Analogy of the Magnet, which holds up by attraction successive stages of iron rings. The Gods first inspire Homer, then act through him and through Ion upon the auditors.

Homer is thus (continues Sokrates) not a man of art or reason, but the interpreter of the Gods; deprived of his reason, but possessed, inspired, by them. You, Ion, are the interpreter of Homer: and the divine inspiration, carrying away your reason, is exercised over you through him. It is in this way that the influence of the Magnet is shown, attracting and holding up successive stages of iron rings.17 The first ring is in contact with the Magnet itself: the second is suspended to the first, the third to the second, and so on. The attractive influence of the Magnet is thus transmitted through a succession of different rings, so as to keep suspended several which are a good way removed from itself. So the influence of the Gods is exerted directly and immediately upon Homer: through him, it passes by a second stage to you: through him and you, it passes by a third stage to those auditors whom you so powerfully affect and delight, becoming however comparatively enfeebled at each stage of transition.

This comparison forms the central point of the dialogue. It is an expansion of a judgment delivered by Sokrates in the Apology.

The passage and comparison here given by Sokrates — remarkable as an early description of the working of the Magnet — forms the central point or kernel of the dialogue called Ion. It is an expansion of a judgment delivered by Sokrates himself in his Apology to the Dikasts, and it is repeated in more than one place by Plato.18 Sokrates declares in his Apology that he had applied his testing cross-examination to several excellent poets; and that finding them unable to give any rational account of their own compositions, he concluded that they composed without any wisdom of their own, under the same inspiration as prophets and declarers of oracles. In the dialogue before us, this thought is strikingly illustrated and amplified.

Platonic Antithesis: systematic procedure distinguished from unsystematic: which latter was either blind routine, or madness inspired by the Gods. Varieties of madness, good and bad.

The contrast between systematic, professional, procedure, deliberately taught and consciously acquired, capable of being defended at every step by appeal to intelligible rules founded upon scientific theory, and enabling the person so qualified to impart his qualification to others — and a different procedure purely impulsive and unthinking, whereby the agent, having in his mind a conception of the end aimed at, proceeds from one intermediate step to another, without knowing why he does so or how he has come to do so, and without being able to explain his practice if questioned or to impart it to others — this contrast is a favourite one with Plato. The last-mentioned procedure — the unphilosophical or irrational — he conceives under different aspects: sometimes as a blind routine or insensibly acquired habit,19 sometimes as a stimulus applied from without by some God, superseding the reason of the individual. Such a condition Plato calls madness, and he considers those under it as persons out of their senses. But he recognises different varieties of madness, according to the God from whom it came: the bad madness was a disastrous visitation and distemper — the good madness was a privilege and blessing, an inspiration superior to human reason. Among these privileged madmen he reckoned prophets and poets; another variety under the same genus, is, that mental love, between a well-trained adult, and a beautiful, intelligent, youth, which he regards as the most exalted of all human emotions.20 In the Ion, this idea of a privileged madness — inspiration from the Gods superseding reason — is applied not only to the poet, but also to the rhapsode who recites the poem, and even to the auditors whom he addresses. The poet receives the inspiration directly from the Gods: he inoculates the rhapsode with it, who again inoculates the auditors — the fervour is, at each successive communication, diminished. The auditor represents the last of the rings; held in suspension, through the intermediate agency of other rings, by the inherent force of the magnet.21

Special inspiration from the Gods was a familiar fact in Grecian life. Privileged communications from the Gods to Sokrates — his firm belief in them.

We must remember, that privileged communications from the Gods to men, and special persons recipient thereof, were acknowledged and witnessed everywhere as a constant phenomenon of Grecian life. There were not only numerous oracular temples, which every one could visit to ask questions in matters of doubt — but also favoured persons who had received from the Gods the gift of predicting the future, of interpreting omens, of determining the good or bad indications furnished by animals sacrificed.22 In every town or village — or wherever any body of men were assembled — there were always persons who prophesied or delivered oracles, and to whom special revelations were believed to be vouchsafed, during periods of anxiety. No one was more familiar with this fact than the Sokratic disciples: for Sokrates himself had perhaps a greater number of special communications from the Gods than any man of his age: his divine sign having begun when he was a child, and continuing to move him frequently, even upon small matters, until his death: though the revelations were for the most part negative, not affirmative — telling him often what was not to be done — seldom what was to be done — resembling in this respect his own dialogues with other persons. Moreover Sokrates inculcated upon his friends emphatically, that they ought to have constant recourse to prophecy: that none but impious men neglected to do so: that the benevolence of the Gods was nowhere more conspicuous than in their furnishing such special revelations and warnings, to persons whom they favoured: that the Gods administered the affairs of the world partly upon principles of regular sequence, so that men by diligent study might learn what they were to expect, — but partly also, and by design, in a manner irregular and undecypherable, such that it could not be fathomed by any human study, and could not be understood except through direct and special revelation from themselves.23

Condition of the inspired person — his reason is for the time withdrawn.

Here, as well as elsewhere, Plato places inspiration, both of the prophet and the poet, in marked contrast with reason and intelligence. Reason is supposed to be for the time withdrawn or abolished, and inspiration is introduced by the Gods into its place. “When Monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.” The person inspired (prophet or poet) becomes for the time the organ of an extraneous agency, speaking what he neither originates nor understands. The genuine gift of prophecy24 (Plato says) attaches only to a disabled, enfeebled, distempered, condition of the intelligence; the gift of poetry is conferred by the Gods upon the most inferior men, as we see by the case of Tynnichus — whose sublime pæan shows us, that it is the Gods alone who utter fine poetry through the organs of a person himself thoroughly incompetent.

Ion does not admit himself to be inspired and out of his mind.

It is thus that Plato, setting before himself a process of systematised reason, — originating in a superior intellect, laying down universal principles and deducing consequences from them — capable of being consistently applied, designedly taught, and defended against objections — enumerates the various mental conditions opposed to it, and ranks inspiration as one of them. In this dialogue, Sokrates seeks to prove that the success of Ion as a rhapsode depends upon his being out of his mind or inspired. But Ion does not accept the compliment: Ion. — You speak well, Sokrates; but I should be surprised if you spoke well enough to create in me the new conviction, that I am possessed and mad when I eulogize Homer. I do not think that you would even yourself say so, if you heard me discourse on the subject.25

Homer talks upon all subjects — Is Ion competent to explain what Homer says upon all of them? Rhapsodic art. What is its province?

Sokr. — But Homer talks upon all subjects. Upon which of them can you discourse? Ion. — Upon all. Sokr. — Not surely on such as belong to special arts, professions. Each portion of the matter of knowledge is included under some special art, and is known through that art by those who possess it. Thus, you and I, both of us, know the number of our fingers; we know it through the same art, which both of us possess — the arithmetical. But Homer talks of matters belonging to many different arts or occupations, that of the physician, the charioteer, the fisherman, &c. You cannot know these; since you do not belong to any of these professions, but are a rhapsode. Describe to me what are the matters included in the rhapsodic art. The rhapsodic art is one art by itself, distinct from the medical and others: it cannot know every thing; tell me what matters come under its special province.26 Ion. — The rhapsodic art does not know what belongs to any one of the other special arts: but that of which it takes cognizance, and that which I know, is, what is becoming and suitable to each variety of character described by Homer: to a man or woman — to a freeman or slave — to the commander who gives orders or to the subordinate who obeys them, &c. This is what belongs to the peculiar province of the rhapsode to appreciate and understand.27 Sokr. — Will the rhapsode know what is suitable for the commander of a ship to say to his seamen, during a dangerous storm, better than the pilot? Will the rhapsode know what is suitable for one who gives directions about the treatment of a sick man, better than the physician? Will the rhapsode know what is suitable to be said by the herdsman when the cattle are savage and distracted, or to the female slaves when busy in spinning? Ion. — No: the rhapsode will not know these things so well as the pilot, the physician, the grazier, the mistress, &c.28 Sokr. — Will the rhapsode know what is suitable for the military commander to say, when he is exhorting his soldiers? Ion. — Yes: the rhapsode will know this well: at least I know it well.