Theaetetus
Plato (428–347 BC)
Plato's Theaetetus in the Greek text edited by John Burnet, with Harold North Fowler's English translation.
Section 142
Section 143
Section 144
Section 145
Section 146
Section 147
Section 148
Section 149
Section 150
Section 151
Section 152
Section 153
Section 154
Section 155
Section 156
Section 157
Section 158
Section 159
Section 160
Section 161
Section 162
Section 163
Section 164
Section 165
Section 166
Section 167
Section 168
Section 169
Section 170
Section 171
Section 172
Section 173
Section 174
Section 175
Section 176
Section 177
Section 178
Section 179
Section 180
Section 181
Section 182
Section 183
Section 184
Section 185
Section 186
Section 187
Section 188
Section 189
Section 190
Section 191
Section 192
Section 193
Section 194
Section 195
Section 196
Section 197
Section 198
Section 199
Section 200
Section 201
Section 202
Section 203
SOC. Let us, then, take them up and examine them, or rather, let us examine ourselves and see whether it was in accordance with this theory, or not, that we learned letters. First then, the syllables have a rational explanation, but the letters have not?
THEAET. I suppose so.
SOC. I think so, too, decidedly. Now if anyone should ask about the first syllable of Socrates; Theaetetus, tell me, what is SO? What would you reply?
THEAET. I should say S and O.
SOC. This, then, is your explanation of the syllable?
THEAET. Yes.
SOC. Come now, in the same manner give me the explanation of the S.
THEAET. How can one give any elements of an element? For really, Socrates, the S is a voiceless letter, a mere noise, as of the tongue hissing; B again has neither voice nor noise, nor have most of the other letters; and so it is quite right to say that they have no explanation, seeing that the most distinct of them, the seven vowels, have only voice, but no explanation whatsoever.
SOC. In this point, then, my friend, it would seem that we have reached a right conclusion about knowledge.
THEAET. I think we have.
SOC. But have we been right in laying down the principle that whereas the letter is unknowable, yet the syllable is knowable?
THEAET. Probably.
SOC. Well then, shall we say that the syllable is the two letters, or, if there be more than two, all of them, or is it a single concept that has arisen from their combination?
THEAET. I think we mean all the letters it contains.
SOC. Now take the case of two, S and O. The two together are the first syllable of my name. He who knows it knows the two letters, does he not?
THEAET. Of course.
SOC. He knows, that is, the S and the O.
THEAET. Yes.
SOC. How is that? He is ignorant of each, and knowing neither of them he knows them both?
THEAET. That is monstrous and absurd, Socrates.
SOC. And yet if a knowledge of each letter is necessary before one can know both, he who is ever to know a syllable must certainly know the letters first, and so our fine theory will have run away and vanished!
THEAET. And very suddenly, too.
SOC. Yes, for we are not watching it carefully. Perhaps we ought to have said that the syllable is not the letters, but a single concept that has arisen from them, having a single form of its own, different from the letters.
THEAET. Certainly; and perhaps that will be better than the other way.
SOC. Let us look into that; we must not give up in such unmanly fashion a great and impressive theory.
THEAET. No, we must not.