Republic

for we called it the appetitive part because of the intensity of its appetites concerned with food and drink and love and their accompaniments, and likewise the money-loving part, because money is the chief instrument for the gratification of such desires. And rightly, he said. And if we should also say that its pleasure and its love were for gain or profit, should we not thus best bring it together under one head in our discourse so as to understand each other when we speak of this part of the soul, and justify our calling it the money-loving and gain-loving part? I, at any rate, think so, he said. And, again, of the high-spirited element, do we not say that it is wholly set on predominance and victory and good repute? Yes, indeed. And might we not appropriately designate it as the ambitious part and that which is covetous of honor? Most appropriately. But surely it is obvious to everyone that all the endeavor of the part by which we learn is ever towards knowledge of the truth of things, and that it least of the three is concerned for wealth and reputation. Much the least. Lover of learning and lover of wisdom would be suitable designations for that. Quite so, he said. Is it not also true, I said, that the ruling principle of men’s souls is in some cases this faculty and in others one of the other two, as it may happen? That is so, he said. And that is why we say that the primary classes of men also are three, the philosopher or lover of wisdom, the lover of victory and the lover of gain. Precisely so And also that there are three forms of pleasure, corresponding respectively to each? By all means. Are you aware, then said I, that if you should choose to ask men of these three classes, each in turn, which is the most pleasurable of these lives, each will chiefly commend his own? The financier will affirm that in comparison with profit the pleasures of honor or of learning area of no value except in so far as they produce money. True, he said. And what of the lover of honor? I said; does he not regard the pleasure that comes from money as vulgar and low, and again that of learning, save in so far as the knowledge confers honor, mere fume and moonshine? It is so, he said. And what, said I, are we to suppose the philosopher thinks of the other pleasures compared with the delight of knowing the truth and the reality, and being always occupied with that while he learns? Will he not think them far removed from true pleasure, and call them literally the pleasures of necessity, since he would have no use for them if necessity were not laid upon him?