THEAETETUS [38]
Then may we assume, Theaetetus, that to-day, and in this casual
manner, we have found a truth which in former times many wise men have
grown old and have not found?
Theaet. At any rate, Socrates, I am satisfied with the present
statement.
Soc. Which is probably correct-for how can there be knowledge
apart from definition and true opinion? And yet there is one point
in what has been said which does not quite satisfy me.
Theaet. What was it?
Soc. What might seem to be the most ingenious notion of all:-That
the elements or letters are unknown, but the combination or
syllables known.
Theaet. And was that wrong?
Soc. We shall soon know; for we have as hostages the instances which
the author of the argument himself used.
Theaet. What hostages?
Soc. The letters, which are the clements; and the syllables, which
are the combinations;-he reasoned, did he not, from the letters of the
alphabet?
Theaet. Yes; he did.
Soc. Let us take them and put them to the test, or rather, test
ourselves:-What was the way in which we learned letters? and, first of
all, are we right in saying that syllables have a definition, but that
letters have no definition?
Theaet. I think so.
Soc. I think so too; for, suppose that some one asks you to spell
the first syllable of my name:-Theaetetus, he says, what is SO?
Theaet. I should reply S and O.
Soc. That is the definition which you would give of the syllable?
Theaet. I should.
Soc. I wish that you would give me a similar definition of the S.
Theaet. But how can any one, Socrates, tell the elements of an
element? I can only reply, that S is a consonant, a mere noise, as
of the tongue hissing; B, and most other letters, again, are neither
vowel-sounds nor noises. Thus letters may be most truly said to be
undefined; for even the most distinct of them, which are the seven
vowels, have a sound only, but no definition at all.
Soc. Then, I suppose, my friend, that we have been so far right in
our idea about knowledge?
Theaet. Yes; I think that we have.
Soc. Well, but have we been right in maintaining that the
syllables can be known, but not the letters?
Theaet. I think so.
Soc. And do we mean by a syllable two letters, or if there are more,
all of them, or a single idea which arises out of the combination of
them?
Theaet. I should say that we mean all the letters.
Soc. Take the case of the two letters S and O, which form the
first syllable of my own name; must not he who knows the syllable,
know both of them?
Theaet. Certainly.
Soc. He knows, that is, the S and O?
Theaet. Yes.
Soc. But can he be ignorant of either singly and yet know both
together?
Theaet. Such a supposition, Socrates, is monstrous and unmeaning.
Soc. But if he cannot know both without knowing each, then if he
is ever to know the syllable, he must know the letters first; and thus
the fine theory has again taken wings and departed.
Theaet. Yes, with wonderful celerity.
Soc. Yes, we did not keep watch properly. Perhaps we ought to have
maintained that a syllable is not the letters, but rather one single
idea framed out of them, having a separate form distinct from them.
Theaet. Very true; and a more likely notion than the other.
Soc. Take care; let us not be cowards and betray a great and
imposing theory.
Theaet. No, indeed.
Soc. Let us assume then, as we now say, that the syllable is a
simple form arising out of the several combinations of harmonious
elements-of letters or of any other elements.
Theaet. Very good.
Soc. And it must have no parts.
Theaet. Why?
Soc. Because that which has parts must be a whole of all the
parts. Or would you say that a whole, although formed out of the
parts, is a single notion different from all the parts?
Theaet. I should.
Soc. And would you say that all and the whole are the same, or
different?
Theaet. I am not certain; but, as you like me to answer at once, I
shall hazard
manner, we have found a truth which in former times many wise men have
grown old and have not found?
Theaet. At any rate, Socrates, I am satisfied with the present
statement.
Soc. Which is probably correct-for how can there be knowledge
apart from definition and true opinion? And yet there is one point
in what has been said which does not quite satisfy me.
Theaet. What was it?
Soc. What might seem to be the most ingenious notion of all:-That
the elements or letters are unknown, but the combination or
syllables known.
Theaet. And was that wrong?
Soc. We shall soon know; for we have as hostages the instances which
the author of the argument himself used.
Theaet. What hostages?
Soc. The letters, which are the clements; and the syllables, which
are the combinations;-he reasoned, did he not, from the letters of the
alphabet?
Theaet. Yes; he did.
Soc. Let us take them and put them to the test, or rather, test
ourselves:-What was the way in which we learned letters? and, first of
all, are we right in saying that syllables have a definition, but that
letters have no definition?
Theaet. I think so.
Soc. I think so too; for, suppose that some one asks you to spell
the first syllable of my name:-Theaetetus, he says, what is SO?
Theaet. I should reply S and O.
Soc. That is the definition which you would give of the syllable?
Theaet. I should.
Soc. I wish that you would give me a similar definition of the S.
Theaet. But how can any one, Socrates, tell the elements of an
element? I can only reply, that S is a consonant, a mere noise, as
of the tongue hissing; B, and most other letters, again, are neither
vowel-sounds nor noises. Thus letters may be most truly said to be
undefined; for even the most distinct of them, which are the seven
vowels, have a sound only, but no definition at all.
Soc. Then, I suppose, my friend, that we have been so far right in
our idea about knowledge?
Theaet. Yes; I think that we have.
Soc. Well, but have we been right in maintaining that the
syllables can be known, but not the letters?
Theaet. I think so.
Soc. And do we mean by a syllable two letters, or if there are more,
all of them, or a single idea which arises out of the combination of
them?
Theaet. I should say that we mean all the letters.
Soc. Take the case of the two letters S and O, which form the
first syllable of my own name; must not he who knows the syllable,
know both of them?
Theaet. Certainly.
Soc. He knows, that is, the S and O?
Theaet. Yes.
Soc. But can he be ignorant of either singly and yet know both
together?
Theaet. Such a supposition, Socrates, is monstrous and unmeaning.
Soc. But if he cannot know both without knowing each, then if he
is ever to know the syllable, he must know the letters first; and thus
the fine theory has again taken wings and departed.
Theaet. Yes, with wonderful celerity.
Soc. Yes, we did not keep watch properly. Perhaps we ought to have
maintained that a syllable is not the letters, but rather one single
idea framed out of them, having a separate form distinct from them.
Theaet. Very true; and a more likely notion than the other.
Soc. Take care; let us not be cowards and betray a great and
imposing theory.
Theaet. No, indeed.
Soc. Let us assume then, as we now say, that the syllable is a
simple form arising out of the several combinations of harmonious
elements-of letters or of any other elements.
Theaet. Very good.
Soc. And it must have no parts.
Theaet. Why?
Soc. Because that which has parts must be a whole of all the
parts. Or would you say that a whole, although formed out of the
parts, is a single notion different from all the parts?
Theaet. I should.
Soc. And would you say that all and the whole are the same, or
different?
Theaet. I am not certain; but, as you like me to answer at once, I
shall hazard