Lecture 3 — The cause of remembering
One might perhaps wonder why it is that when the affection is present and the thing is absent, what is not present is remembered.
For it is clear that one must understand some such to have been made by the senses within the soul and in the part of the body having it as a sort of picture, the having of which we say is memory; for the motion that has been made impresses, as it were, a figure of the sensible thing, like those who impress seals with their signet rings.
Hence, too, for those who are in great motion because of an affection or because of age, memory does not come into being, as motion and a signet-seal falling into flowing water. For others it does not come into being owing to their being cold, like the old parts of buildings, and the impression does not take because of the hardness of the recipient of the affection.
For this reason, the extremely young and the extremely old are deficient in memory; for the young are in flux owing to their growth and the old owing to their deterioration. Similarly, again, neither the excessively quick nor the excessively slow seem to have memories. For the quick are moister than they ought to be, and the slow are harder. Thus, in the case of those who are too quick, the image does not remain in the soul; whereas it never touches the others.
But if such is the case with respect to memory, does one remember the affection or the thing from which it was generated?
For if we remember the affection, we could remember nothing of the things that are absent.
If, on the other hand, we remember that absent thing, how is it that while sensing this affection we remember what we are not sensing, which is absent?
Also, if it is similar in the way that a figure or picture is in us, why would there be memory of another thing and not rather of this very impression? For the one acting by memory sees this affection and senses this affection.
How then does he remember what is not present? For he would be able both to see and to hear what is not present.
Or is it the case that this happens and occurs? For just as an animal inscribed on a tablet is both an animal and also a likeness, (Here, at 450b20, it is important to discuss our rationale for using the term “likeness” to render the Latin imago, which, in turn, is used to translate the Greek eikōn. Until now in the third chapter of the Aristotelian text we have translated phantasia and phantasma regularly as “imagination” and “image”; the Latin lemmata of the De memoria, however, consistently keep these transliterated Greek terms. Both of these Greek words, as Aristotle himself recognized (On the Soul 3.3, 429a3), are etymologically connected with phaos, the Greek word for light. It is almost impossible to bring out the full resonance of such expressions as phantasma phainetai (450b29), which would connote something like this: “something illuminated brings itself to light”; in Latin, as in English, etymology must be sacrificed for sense: phantasma videtur, “an image is seen” or “an image appears.” At this point (450b20–451a17) it is necessary to note that Aristotle introduces a new and contrasting term rather emphatically into the treatise: in the Greek text of the De memoria there are only nine occurrences of forms of the word εἰκών, which Aristotle elsewhere glosses as “that whose emergence comes through imitation” (hou hê genesis dia mimêseôs) (Topics 6.2, 140a14–15). It is noteworthy that Richard Sorabji in Aristotle on Memory (Providence, R.I.: Brown University Press, 1972) translates eikōn as “copy” but ignores the text from the Topics. It is also worth checking Aristotle, Metaphysics 5.14, 1020b4, on the mimetic character of composite numbers. How is it that the Greeks could call certain numbers (which are discontinuous magnitudes) “square” numbers, since squares are continuous magnitudes? If we represent, say, sixteen points as our number, we can reconfigure the points in such a fashion as to make them look like a square; the number will have a square shape as a product of its imitating (mimêma) a square. But are the sixteen points ever properly a “copy,” as Ross’s Oxford translation renders mimêma, of a square? Sixteen items do not come ready-made as squares; they are able to be rendered isomorphic or conformed to a square, but are squares only metaphorically. Mimetic numbers are still properly numbers. For a thoughtful discussion of the relation between eikon and eikasia in Plato, see Jacob Klein, A Commentary on Plato’s Meno (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 1965), pp. 112–25. Aristotle does not use the word εἰκασία. Although Aquinas did not have direct access to the Republic, whose central books alone among the genuine works of Plato mention eikasia, the translator of his base-text, the De memoria et reminiscentia, has faithfully translated eikôn into Latin by imago, which designates concretely something that is like something else. The tenth occurrence of imago is supplied by the Latin translator where, in 450b20–451a2, the context requires Coriscus to have one. Since no instance of eikôn occurs in Aristotle’s treatise except here in Chapter 3, there will be no danger in translating it by the concrete work “likeness,” as when we say that a portrait is a good likeness of someone. Elsewhere in this translation where the word “likeness” occurs, except where explicitly noted, it designates the abstract relation of similarity (Greek ὁμοιότης, Latin similitudo), rather than the concrete thing that has this relation to something else. It should be noted that our rendering of imago by “likeness” is an improvisation required by the context; Aquinas’s own usage distinguishes four characteristics of an image, the first of which is likeness (similitudo), an adequation at least of proportion, an expressed and proximate sign of the species or form, and an ordering or relation (In I Sent., d. 28, q. 2, a. 1, c.). See also ST I.35.1–2; I.93.1; In II Sent., d. 16, q. 4. In ST III.25.3, corp. it is also clear that the Latin word imago (which, since in this context there is no need to contrast it with phantasma, we shall here merely transliterate) corresponds to Aristotle’s Greek term eikôn or “likeness”: “As the Philosopher states in his treatise on memory and recollection [450b27], the soul has two sorts of motion toward an image. There is one motion toward the image itself as a thing; in the other way, the motion is toward the image inasmuch as it is an image of another. The difference between these two motions is that the first motion, by which one is moved toward an image inasmuch as it is a thing, is other than the motion toward the real thing; the second motion, however, which is toward the image inasmuch as it is an image, is one and the same as that which is toward the real thing. In this sense therefore one ought to say that no reverence is shown to the image of Christ inasmuch as it is a thing such as carved or painted wood, since reverence is not owed to anything except a rational nature. Hence it remains that reverence is exhibited to it only inasmuch as it is an image, and thus it follows that the same reverence is shown to an image of Christ as to Christ Himself. Hence, since Christ is adored with the honor and service due to God alone, His image is consequently to be adored with the honor and service due to God alone.” For other discussions of the distinction between the motion toward a thing and the motion toward an image as such, compare ST II-II.81.3, ad 3; II-II.103.3, ad 3; III.8.3, ad 3; In I Sent., d. 27, q. 2, a. 3; II, d. 4, 1, ad 4; II, d. 12, 3, ad 5; III, d. 9, q. 1, a. 2.) and one and the same thing is both, although the being is not the same for both, it is possible to consider it both as an animal and as a likeness. So too one must take the image that exists in us to be both itself something existing in its own right and also as an image of another. In its own right it is an object of speculation or an image, but inasmuch as it is of another, it exists as a likeness and an object that can be remembered.
Hence, too, when the motion of that thing acts, there is a corresponding two-fold result. On the one hand, with regard to the motion taken in its own right, the soul will have sensed it in such a way that something intelligible or an image would seem to be present to it.
On the other hand, insofar as it is of another and exists as in a picture, it considers it as a likeness, and he who does not see Coriscus considers it as Coriscus’s likeness; here it is another affection of this speculation.
When one considers what has been drawn as an animal, then, on the one hand, in the soul this picture becomes an intelligible object only, and, on the other hand, as there, because it is a likeness, it becomes a memorable object.
For this reason, when such motions are engendered in our soul by what we have previously sensed, we sometimes do not know whether this happens because of having sensed it; and we sometimes are in doubt whether there is memory or not. Understanding and recollecting sometimes happen since we have heard or seen something before; but this comes about when the one who is looking as though at it is changed and considers it as of the other.
Sometimes, however, even the contrary comes into being, as occurs in the case of Antipheron of Oreita and others affected by ecstasy; for they used to speak of images as facts and of themselves as remembering them. This comes into being when someone considers what is not a likeness as a likeness.
Meditations, however, preserve the memory in recollecting, and this is nothing other than to consider something frequently as a likeness and not as something in its own right.
So then what memory is, as well as what remembering is, has been stated: it is the having of an image as a likeness of that of which it is the image; and to which part of those in us it belongs, since it belongs to the first sensitive part and that by which we sense time.
327. One might perhaps wonder why (450a25). After the Philosopher shows what memory is, and to what part of the soul it belongs, here he shows the cause of remembering. In this regard, he does two things.
First, he presents a difficulty. (Aquinas’s term, difficultas, tracks reasonably well with Aristotle’s Greek aporia.)
Second, he resolves it, where he says or is it the case (450b20; [340]).
With respect to the first point, he does three things:
first, he raises the difficulty;
second, he makes one of its presuppositions explicit, where he says for it is clear (450a27; [328]);
third, he brings up the arguments bearing on the question, where he says but if such is the case (450b11; [355]).
Accordingly, he first says that since in remembering there is an affection affecting the soul by its presence, (Latin: praesentialiter.) but the thing that we remember is absent, someone might wonder why we remember what is not present, namely the thing, and why we do not rather remember the affection which is present.
328. Then, when he says for it is clear (450a27), he makes explicit something that he had presupposed, namely, that while we remember, there exists an affection within the soul.
First, he explains this through its cause;
second through examples, (Latin signa.) where he says hence, too, for those who are in great motion (450a32; [330]).
Accordingly, he first says that it is clear that one must understand some such affection to be made by the sense power within the soul and within an organ of an animated body; we say that memory belongs to the soul of this body as a habit, and that this affection is, so to speak, a sort of picturing, (Pictura: the word may connote a verbal force to correspond with passio, “affection”: “picturing” intends the product being pictured within the soul. Cf. the Oxford English Dictionary on the -ure suffix; cf., e.g., a “tracing.” Kinēsis (motion), praxis (action), poiēsis (production) and other action nouns marked by the Greek suffix -sis normally mark the act in contrast to the product of the act; the English suffix -ing can mark both an act (e.g., “tracing”) or the product of an act (“a tracing”).) since the sensible object imprints its likeness upon the sense, and since this sort of likeness persists in the imagination even when the sensible object goes away. This is why he adds that the motion that is engendered by the sensible object upon the sense power impresses upon the imagination as it were a sensible figure that remains when the sensible object goes away in the same way as that whereby those who seal things with their signet rings impress within the wax a figure that remains even when the seal or the ring has been removed.
329. He says in the soul and in a part of the body since, although an affection of this sort pertains to the sensitive part of the soul, a part that is the actuality of a bodily organ, nevertheless such an affection does not belong to the soul alone, but to the composite of body and soul together. He calls memory a habit of this part, since memory is in the sensitive part and since we sometimes do not actually apprehend the things that we keep in our memory, but retain them, as it were, habitually.
330. Then, when he says hence, too, for those who are in great motion (450a32), he uses signs or examples to clarify what he has set out to prove, namely that this affection is present in remembering.
He says that precisely since such an affection is necessary for memory, memory may not be produced in some people, because they are undergoing much change: whether this comes about because of an affection (either of the body, as in those who are sick or drunk, or of the soul, as those who are moved to wrath or desire), or because of a time of life characterized by growth or decay. Thus, for reasons of this sort, the body of a human being is in quite a flux and so cannot retain the impression that comes into being from the motion of the sensible thing, as would happen if a motion or even a signet seal were impressed into flowing water: for the figure would perish immediately owing to the flow. (See Gauthier’s note to Chapter 1, p. 104, lines 68–71. Anonymous, In De memoria (Milan Ambr. H 105 inf., f. 20ra). Cf. Aristotle, below, 450a9–11, for Gauthier’s textual notes, as well as 2.1, above, (Leonine ed., p. 104, lines 68–71).)
331. In certain others, however, the impression is not received at all. Sometimes this happens because of a chill that thickens the humors; thus, it may not be possible for anything to be impressed upon the soul of those who are in a state of great fear because of this “freezing up.” He even gives the example of old buildings: a wall can easily be changed when it is fresh, before the casement sets, but not after it is aged. Sometimes, however, the impression fails to be received, not through a “freezing up” but because of the natural hardness of that which is to receive the affection: for earthly bodies possess hardness even if they are hot, but watery bodies are hardened by being frozen. It is for these causes that those who are extremely “new,” (Latin: novi.) viz. children, and also the old, are deficient in memory, since the bodies of children are in flux because of growth, while those of the old are such because of their wasting away; hence in neither of these is an impression well retained.
332. Yet it does happen that one firmly retains in his memory things that he encounters (Accipit: cf. Averroes’s sensit in Gauthier’s note to lines 80–87, quoted in our note at 450b11, below.) as a child. The vigor of a motion may cause things we marvel at to be more deeply impressed upon our memory. We chiefly wonder about new and unusual things; (Gauthier’s note on wonder at Leonine ed., p. 114, lines 83–84, compares ST III.15.8: “Wonder is properly about something new and unusual (admiratio proprie est de novo aliquo insolito)”; the object of admiratio Aquinas gathers from the presumption of novelty described by St. Gregory the Great, Moralia in Job 31.45 (P.L. 76, 621); cf. De malo, q. 9, a. 3; ST II-II, q. 21, a. 4; q. 132, a.5; the term insolitum seems to be drawn from Augustine’s definition of miracles in De util. credendi 16.34 (P.L. 42, 90, line 7), cf. In II Sent., d. 18, q. 1, a. 3, arg. 2; or Augustine’s Tr. in Ioannem 24.1 (P.L., 35, 1593; cf. inusitatum, 8.1, ibid., 1450; De Trinitate 3.5 (CCL 50, pp. 137–38), cf. 1–2, q. 32, a. 8; De potentia, q. 6, a. 2. Other interpretations are offered in Aristotle, Metaphysics 1.3, 982b12–19, 983a12–21 (the object of wonder is that whose cause is not known); John Damascene, De fide orthodoxa, in Burgundio’s translation, ch. 29 (ed. Buytaert, p. 122): “Wonder is a fear arising from a great imagination.”) and newborn children tend to marvel at things still more because they are not used to them, and for this reason too they remember firmly. (On remembering the experiences of youth, see the pseudo-Ciceronian Ad Herennium, 3.22. 35–36 (ed. Caplan, p. 218): “For if in life we see small, usual, day-today matters, we do not usually remember them, because the mind is not moved by a new or admirable thing; and if we see or hear anything outstandingly base, dishonest, unusual, great, unbelievable, laughable, we usually remember it for a long time. Thus we frequently forget things that we have seen or heard in front of us, which we often have remembered well in childhood: nor does this come about for any other reason than that the usual things easily slip from the memory, but striking and new things remain longer in the soul. The rising, the passing, the setting of the sun no one marvels at, because they come about every day; but people marvel at the eclipses of the sun because they happen rarely, and they marvel more at eclipses of the sun than those of the moon because the latter are more frequent. Therefore he teaches that he is not aroused by a common nature and a usual thing, but is moved by novelty and significant business.” Cf. Aquinas, ST II-II.49.1, ad 2. Also consult Quintilian, Inst. or. 11.2, 6 (ed. J. Cousin, Coll. Budé [Paris Les Belles Lettres, 1979], p. 208): Quid? non haec uarietas mira est, excidere proxima, uetera meminit infantiae suae?; St. Jerome, Apol. adu. libros Rufini 1.30 (P.L. 23, 422); Avicenna, De anima 4.1 (ed. Van Riet, p. 43, 1–12); Averroes, Compendium libri De memoria (ed. Shields-Blumberg, pp. 71–72: Et homo rememorat multociens quod sensit in puericia bona rememoratione, quia in puericia multum amat formas et miratur in eis; quapropter figitur in aspectu earum; quapropter difficile amittit eas— “And a man often remembers well what he sensed in boyhood, since in boyhood he loves the forms a lot and marvels at them; hence he is transfixed at their appearance; hence it is hard for him to lose them”; Petrus Hispanus, Scientia libri De anima 7.5 (ed. Alonso, 2nd ed., p. 273, 15–22); Albert the Great, Summa de homine, q. 40, a. 3, s.c.1 and ad 1m (ed. Borgnet, t. 35, pp. 349b–350a); De memoria 2.3 (p. 111a).) On the other hand, with respect to the fluid condition of their body, children are naturally liable to slips of memory.
He adds that similarly for the reasons just mentioned, neither those who are very (The Latin of Moerbeke renders Aristotle’s λίαν, “excessively,” by the weaker Latin multum, “very.”) quick at apprehension nor those who are very slow seem to be good at remembering. For those who are very quick are of a more humid constitution than is fitting, since it is easy for something moist to receive an impression. On the other hand, those who are slower also have a harder constitution. Thus, in the case of those with a quick constitution, the impression of an image does not remain in the soul, whereas it does not even touch those with a hard constitution, i.e., they do not receive an impression of the image.
333. However, what he said can also be explained otherwise. Thus, in the first way, we may understand him to have assigned the cause for the failure of memory to the onset of a change, which he later illustrated by the example of the young and the old; in the second way, on the other hand, he assigned the cause on the basis of natural constitution: either because in some things the watery humor, which is cold and wet, is predominant and consequently the impressions of the images in them are easily dispersed, just as old buildings crumble easily; (Leonine ed., p. 114, lines 108–9. According to Albert the Great, De memoria, 1. 4 (p. 104a), the old decay of memory “comes about as it does in ruined buildings, in which a seal-impression does not take owing to their putrefaction: for all products of putrefaction are moist on the outside and dry within.”) or because the earthy humor predominates in certain things, and these do not take on any impression owing to their hardness. He subsequently clarified this point by using the example of the quick and the slow.
334. One must also note that he first stated that the impression of the images comes into being in the soul and in a part of the body, (Leonine ed., p. 114, line 113 premisit (“advance the premise”): 450a28–29.) so that later he might show that men are related in various ways to such an impression owing to the various dispositions of their bodies.
335. Then when he says but if such is the case (450b11), he presents arguments on both sides of the previously posed question. (Here Aquinas seems to be introducing a small-scale version of a scholastic “disputed question,” where a batch of arguments against the proposed position is followed by another for it, concluding with a magisterial determination of the difficulty. For historical background see “The construction of an ‘article’” in M.-D. Chenu, Toward Understanding Saint Thomas, translated with authorized corrections and bibliographical additions by A.-M. Landry and D. Hughes (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1964), pp. 93–96.)
In the first place, he takes up the question once again, as if what had been supposed were now manifest. He says that if with respect to memory, this happens, namely, that there is an affection present within it as a picture, this question must be asked: does anyone remember this affection which exists as a presence (Latin: praesentialiter: For a brief discussion of presence and representation in Aquinas, see Edward Macierowski, “A Sacramental Universe: Rediscovering an Ancient Wisdom,” Caelum et Terra 2, 3 (1992): 28–32, esp. pp. 31 and 32.) within the rememberer, or does one remember the sensible thing by which the impression has been made?
336. In the second place, where he says for if we remember the affection (450b13), he presents an objection to one side of the question. He says that if anyone should state that a human being remembers the affection present to him, it follows that we would remember none of the things that are absent, which is contrary to what has been previously determined.
337. In the third place, at if, on the other hand, we remember that absent thing (450b14), he presents objections to the other side of the question, using, as it were, three arguments.
The first of these arguments he presents by saying that if one remembers the thing by which the affection was brought into being, it would seem unfitting that a man should sense that which is present, namely, the affection, and at the same time along with this should remember that which is absent, which he cannot sense. For it was said (2.1, 450a14; cf. ch. 2, nn. 318–25.) that memory pertains to the “first sensitive” part; and in this fashion it would not seem that there should be a sense-act of the one and memory of the other.
338. The second argument he presents at also, if it is similar in the way that a figure (450b15). He says that if the sort of affection that is present to a rememberer is in us in the way that the sense’s own figure or picture is (i.e., as representing the first change of the sense power induced by the sensible object), then why will memory be of the other (i.e., the thing), and not of the figure or picture itself? For since it is a figure belonging to the sense power, it can clearly be apprehended. This is obvious from experience, since he who remembers gazes at something bearing upon this affection through his intellect, or else senses it through his sensitive part. But it would seem unfitting that, while that which falls under the apprehension is present, not it but rather something else should be apprehended.
339. The third argument he presents at how then does he remember (450b18). He asks how one might remember through an interior sense that which is not present. For since the exterior sense “con-forms” to the interior sense, it would follow that even the exterior sense would be of a thing not present, in such wise that it might see and hear a thing not present, which would seem awkward.
340. Then, when he says or is it the case (450b20), he solves the difficulty he had posed.
He first points out the reason why memory occurs.
In the second place, he points out the cause for something being well preserved in the memory, where he says meditations, however, preserve the memory (451a12; [348]).
Third, he adds an epilogue, where he says so then what memory is (451a14; [349]).
On this first topic he does two things:
first, he solves the difficulty;
second, he illustrates his solution by means of signs or examples, where he says for this reason (451a2; [344]).
Accordingly, first he says that it is possible to explain how what had been stated—that one may sense a present affection and remember an absent thing—can and does occur. He gives the example of an animal that is painted on a tablet. It is both a painted animal (In the first chapter of Aristotle’s Categories, the Greek word ζῷον is ambiguous. It can mean either an “animal,” i.e., a living thing, or a “picture,” i.e., some painted thing—whatever a ζωγράφος paints. Aquinas seems to have been aware of this ambiguity of the Greek term, for he contrasts the “painted” animal with the “true” animal. His gloss “painted” indicates that he takes the word here in the sense of “picture.”) and is also a likeness (It will be useful to have a roadmap to keep three terms straight from here till the end of the chapter. Aristotle’s Greek: φἀντασμα, εἰκών, θεὠρημα. Moerbeke’s Latin: phantasma, imago, speculamen. English: “image,” “likeness,” “object of speculation.” Note carefully that wherever Moerbeke has phantasma we have “image,” and wherever Moerbeke has imago we have “likeness.” We have disregarded etymology in favor of sense.) of a real (The Latin is animalis veri, literally “a true animal,” i.e., an animal likely to produce a true judgment about it in one who knows it. Cf. De veritate, q. 1, a. 1 (Leonine ed., vol. 22.1, p. 6, lines 177–84). Note the contrast between the “true” or “real” animal and the “painted” animal.) animal. Now although that to which these features both belong is the same in subject, nevertheless, the two differ in character; and so the consideration of it inasmuch as it is a painted animal is other than the consideration of it inasmuch as it is a likeness of a real animal. So too the image that is in us can be taken either as it is something in itself or as it is an image of the other. Now in its own right it is a certain object of speculation, concerning which the intellect speculates, or else an image, inasmuch as it pertains to the sensitive part of the soul. But according as it is an image of the other, which we have previously sensed or understood, it is considered as a likeness leading to something else and a principle of remembering.
341. Consequently since the soul’s remembering accords with the motion of an image, (1) if the soul be turned to the image in its own right, in this way there would seem to be present to the soul either something intelligible (which the intellect inspects within the image), or simply an image (which the imaginative power apprehends); (2) if, however, the soul turns itself to the image inasmuch as it is an image of the other and considers it as a likeness of what we previously have sensed or understood (as was said about the picture). Moreover, just as (i) he who is not seeing Coriscus considers an image of Coriscus as a likeness of him, here, now this consideration is affected in another way, because now the situation pertains to memory.
342. And (ii) just as an image of an individual man like Coriscus may sometimes be considered in its own right and sometimes as a likeness, so too does this occur in the case of intelligible objects. For if when the intellect looks at an image as a painted animal, it inspects it in itself, the image is considered only an intelligible object; if on the other hand the intellect inspects it inasmuch as it is a likeness, then it will be a principle of remembering, as occurs there, i.e., with respect to the particulars.
343. So then it is clear that when the soul turns itself toward an image as it is a form preserved in the sensitive part of the soul, in this way there is an act of the imagination or phantasia, (Here our translation “imagination or phantasia” inconsistently but unavoidably echoes Aquinas’s imaginationis sive phantasiae. In this instance, Aquinas is designating routinely the internal sense power of imagination. As noted earlier, however, Moerbeke’s term phantasma for the product of the imagination is rendered consistently into English by “image”; Moerbeke’s imago, which renders Aristotle’s weighty Greek term eikōn, is always rendered by “likeness.” Aristotle never uses the Platonic term εἰκασία for imagination, but only phantasia φαντασία; in like fashion, Aquinas’s use of the term “imagination” here has no special eikastic weight.) or even of the intellect considering the universal involved in this image. If, however, the soul should be turned toward the image inasmuch as it is a likeness of what we have previously seen or understood, this belongs to an act of remembering. In addition, since to be a likeness marks an interest (The phrase “marks an interest” renders significat intentionem.) with respect to this form, Avicenna fittingly observes (As we have seen (Gauthier, p. 115, line 224) the notion of intentio in this text is marked by a special and explicit dependency on Avicennian doctrine. The Arabic term maᶜnà underlying the Latin rendering intentio in psychological contexts such as those discussed above in Chapter 2 (see note) marks a non-formal feature that the soul grasps about a sensible object. A sheep grasps the intentio of a wolf by seizing upon its fear-value or its flee-ability, as it were, which is other than its shape, the color of its fur, the texture of its coat, its aroma, or even the smoothness or sharpness of its tooth. Aquinas elsewhere (ST I.78.4) argues that “if an animal were moved solely because of a sensible object of pleasure or pain, it would be necessary to suppose in an animal only the apprehension of the forms that the sense power perceives, in which forms it suffers joy or distress. But it is necessary for an animal to seek or avoid things not only because they are agreeable or disagreeable to sense, but also because of certain other points of commodiousness and utility or of harmfulness. Thus a sheep runs away on seeing a wolf coming, not owing to any unfittingness of color or shape but as an enemy of its nature; and similarly a bird collects straw not because straw delights its sense but because it is useful for nest-building. It is therefore necessary for an animal to perceive such interests (intentiones), which the exterior sense does not perceive. Moreover, there must be some other principle of this perception, since the perception of sensible forms comes from the immutation of a sensible
344. Then when he says for this reason (451a2), he clarifies what he had said by means of signs or examples.
He says that since we remember when we attend to an image as a likeness of something we have sensed or understood before, human beings can be related to the act of memory in three ways.
345. For sometimes, although there may be within us motions of the images that were made by what we have sensed before, motions that are left over from the first immutation (The first occurrence of the term “immutation” is in Chapter 1.) of the sense by the sensible object, nevertheless we do not know whether these motions happen to be in us because of the fact that we have sensed something before, and consequently we are in doubt as to whether we are remembering or not.
346. Second, it sometimes happens that a human being understands and recollects that we have heard or seen something before whose image is occurring to us now. This is remembering in the proper sense, and this happens when he who is looking at an image is being moved by the image that is present but is considering it inasmuch as it is a likeness of the other thing that he had sensed or understood before.
347. In the third way, the contrary of the first sometimes occurs: a human being believes that he is remembering but in fact does not. This is the sort of thing that happened to a fellow who was called Antipheron and was originally from Oreita; (Antipheron the Oreitan’s name was garbled in the Latin tradition according to Gauthier’s note; Oreos was in fact a city on the Greek island of Euboea.) similar things happen to others who lose their mind. For they reckon the images that occur to them for the first time as though they were images of previous deeds, as if they were remembering things that they had never seen or heard. This happens when someone considers what is not a likeness of another prior fact as if it were a likeness of it.
348. Then when he says meditations, however, preserve the memory (451a12), he indicates how memory is preserved. He says that frequent meditations upon what we have sensed or understood conserve the memory so that anyone may recollect well what he has seen or understood; “meditating,” however, is nothing else than frequently considering certain things as a likeness of previously apprehended things and not only in their own right, and it is meditating which is the mode of considering that pertains to the character of memory. Moreover, it is clear that the habitual grasp of memorable objects is consolidated by frequently engaging in the act of memory, just as any other habit is strengthened by similar acts, and, when the cause is brought to bear many times, (Cf. Aristotle, Ethics 2.1 (1103b21–22): “Habits arise from similar operations.”) the effect is made stronger. (According to Gauthier’s note, in Aquinas’s day, the adage multiplicata causa, multiplicatur effectus was used in three senses: (1) “If the causes become many, the effects become many.” Cf. Bonaventure, Sent. 4, d. 27, a. 2, q. 1, contra 3 (ed. Quaracchi, v. 4, p. 679); Aquinas, In III Sent. d. 8, a. 5, arg. 1, among other places. (2) “If the cause becomes greater, the effect becomes greater.” Cf. Aquinas, ST I-II.73.6, s.c.1. (3) “If the causes become many, the effect becomes greater.” Cf. Aquinas, In II Sent. d. 32, q. 1, a. 3, arg.1; In IV Sent. d. 5, q. 2, a. 2, qla. 3, arg.1; ST I-II.52.3, arg. 1. Aquinas substitutes “is strengthened” here for “is multiplied.”)
349. Then, when he says, so then what memory is (451a14) he adds an epilogue to what was said above. (Cf. cc. 1 and 3.) He says that what memory and remembering are has been stated, (Cf. ch. 1, nn. 298–310.) since memory is a having, i.e., a habitual conservation, of an image, not in its own right (for this pertains to the imaginative power) but inasmuch as the image is a likeness of something previously apprehended. It was also stated (Cf. ch. 2, nn. 311–26.) to which part of the soul of those that are in us the memory pertains, since it was said that it belongs to the first sensitive part, inasmuch as it is through it that we are cognizant of time.
Chapter 3 of 8