Soc. There is a noble freedom, Callicles, in your way of approaching the argument ; for what you say is what the rest of the world think, but do not like to say. And I must beg of you to persevere, that the true rule of human life may become manifest. Tell me, then : — you say, do you not, that in the rightly-developed man the passions ought not to be controlled, but that we should let them grow to the utmost and somehow or other satisfy them, and that this is virtue ?
Cal. Yes ; I do.
Soc. Then those who want nothing are not truly said to be happy ?
Cal. No indeed, for then stones and dead men would be the happiest of all.
Soc. But surely life according to your view is an awful thing ; and indeed I think that Euripides may have been right in saying,
Who knows if life be not death and death life ; and that we are very likely dead ; I have heard a philosopher say that at this moment we are actually dead, and that the body (soma) is our tomb (sema), and that the part of the soul which is the seat of the desires is liable to be tossed about by words and blown up and down ; and some ingenious person, probably a Sicilian or an Italian, playing with the word, invented a tale in which he called the soul — because of its believing and make-believe nature — a vessel, and the ignorant he called the uninitiated or leaky, and the place in the souls of the uninitiated in which the desires are seated, being the intemperate and incontinent part, he compared to a vessel full of holes, because it can never be satisfied. He is not of your way of thinking, Callicles, for he declares, that of all the souls in Hades, meaning the invisible world these uninitiated or leaky persons are the most miserable, and that they pour water into a vessel which is full of holes out of a colander which is similarly perforated. The colander, as my informer assures me, is the soul, and the soul which he compares to a colander is the soul of the ignorant, which is likewise full of holes, and therefore incontinent, owing to a bad memory and want of faith. These notions are strange enough, but they show the principle which, if I can, I would fain prove to you ; that you should change your mind, and, instead of the intemperate and insatiate life, choose that which is orderly and sufficient and has a due provision for daily needs. Do I make any impression on you, and are you coming over to the opinion that the orderly are happier than the intemperate ? Or do I fail to persuade you, and, however many tales I rehearse to you, do you continue of the same opinion still ?
Cal. The latter, Socrates, is more like the truth.
Soc. Well, I will tell you another image, which comes out of the same school : — Let me request you to consider how far you would accept this as an account of the two lives of the temperate and intemperate in a figure : — There are two men, both of whom have a number of casks ; the one<one man has his casks sound and full, one of wine, another of honey, and a third of milk, besides others filled with other liquids, and the streams which fill them are few and scanty, and he can only obtain them with a great deal of toil and difficulty ; but when his casks are once filled he has need to feed them anymore, and has no further trouble with them or care about them. The other, in like manner, can procure streams, though not without difficulty ; but his vessels are leaky and unsound, and night and day he is compelled to be filling them, and if he pauses for a moment, he is in an agony of pain. Such are their respective lives : — And now would you say that the life of the intemperate is happier than that of the temperate ? Do I not convince you that the opposite is the truth ?
Cal. You do not convince me, Socrates, for the one who has filled himself has no longer any pleasure left ; and this, as I was just now saying, is the life of a stone : he has neither joy nor sorrow after he is once filled ; but the pleasure depends on the superabundance of the influx.
Soc. But the more you pour in, the greater the waste ; and the holes must be large for the liquid to escape.
Cal. Certainly.
Soc. The life which you are now depicting is not that of a dead man, or of a stone, but of a cormorant ; you mean that he is to be hungering and eating ?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And he is to be thirsting and drinking ?
Cal. Yes, that is what I mean ; he is to have all his desires about him, and to be able to live happily in the gratification of them.