Letter 50007: Chapter 1: Memory can operate independently of mental images.

Augustine of HippoNebridius|c. 405 AD|Augustine of Hippo
education booksfriendshipgrief deathimperial politicsslavery captivity

Augustine to his dear friend Nebridius -- greetings.

Chapter 1: Memory can operate independently of mental images.

1. I will skip any formal preamble and go straight to the subject you have wanted my opinion on for some time, which I do the more willingly because the discussion will take some space.

You hold that memory cannot function without images -- those mental pictures presented by the imagination, which you have been calling "phantasiae." I take a different view.

First, we should note that the things we remember are not always things that are passing away; most of them are things that still exist. Since memory's function is to retain what belongs to the past, it clearly embraces two kinds of objects: things that have left us, and things from which we have gone away. When I remember my father, for instance, the object of my memory is someone who has left me and is no more. But when I remember Carthage, the object still exists -- I am the one who has left it. In both cases, however, memory retains what belongs to past time. I remember that man and that city not by seeing them now, but by having seen them before.

2. You may well ask: why make this point? Especially since, in both examples, the remembered object enters my memory through precisely the kind of image you say is always required. For my purposes, it is enough to have established that memory can deal with things that have not yet passed away. Now observe how this supports my position.

Some people raise a groundless objection to that famous theory devised by Socrates, according to which the things we learn are not introduced into our minds as new, but brought back through recollection. They claim that memory deals only with things that have passed away, while the objects of understanding (as Plato himself taught) are permanent and imperishable, and therefore cannot be numbered among things that have passed away. Their mistake clearly arises from failing to consider that it is the mental act of apprehension that belongs to the past. Because we have moved on in the stream of mental activity and turned our attention in various directions to other things, we need to return to these truths by an effort of recollection -- that is, by memory.

If, then, setting aside other examples, we fix our thoughts on eternity itself -- something permanently real, which requires no image fashioned by the imagination to enter the mind, and yet could never enter it except through our remembering it -- we will see that in at least some cases, memory can operate without any mental image of the thing remembered.

Chapter 2: The mind has no mental images before the senses provide them.

3. Now, as for your view that the mind can form mental images of material things on its own, without any help from the bodily senses, consider this argument:

If the mind could produce such images before using the body as its instrument for perceiving material objects, and if (as no sane person doubts) the mind received more reliable and accurate impressions before it became entangled in the illusions the senses produce, then it would follow that we should trust the impressions of sleeping people over waking ones, and of the insane over the mentally sound. For in sleep and madness, people are affected by the same kind of images that supposedly existed in the mind before the senses corrupted it. The sun they see in dreams would then be more real than the sun seen by people who are awake and in their right minds -- or an illusion would be better than reality.

Since these conclusions are obviously absurd, my dear Nebridius, it follows that the mental image you describe is nothing other than a blow struck by the senses. The senses do not merely suggest or prompt the mind to generate images from within itself -- they actually introduce into the mind, or more precisely impress upon it, the illusions to which we are subject through sensory experience.

The difficulty you feel -- how we can conceive in thought faces and forms we have never seen -- shows the acuteness of your mind. Let me address it, even if it makes this letter longer than usual. I trust that the fuller my writing, the more welcome it will be to you.

4. I observe that all those mental images you and many others call "phantasiae" can be conveniently and accurately divided into three classes, according to whether they originate from the senses, from the imagination, or from the reasoning faculty.

The first class: when the mind forms and presents to me the image of your face, or of Carthage, or of our departed friend Verecundus, or any other existing or formerly existing thing I have myself seen and perceived.

The second class: everything we imagine to have been or to be a certain way -- when, for the sake of illustration, we suppose things that do not exist (without harm to truth); when we form vivid mental pictures while reading, hearing, composing, or refusing to believe fictional narratives. Thus, following my own fancy, I picture what Aeneas looked like, or Medea with her team of winged dragons, or Chremes or Parmeno from the stage. This class also includes things presented as true -- whether by wise men wrapping truth in symbolic inventions, or by fools constructing various superstitions: the River of Torment in the underworld, the five caves of the kingdom of darkness, the North Pole holding up the heavens, and a thousand other wonders from poets and heretics. We also do this in argument: "Suppose three worlds like ours were stacked one above another," or "Suppose the earth were enclosed in a square" -- all things we picture according to the direction of our thoughts.

The third class deals mainly with numbers and measurement: found partly in the nature of things (as when the shape of the entire cosmos is discovered and an image forms in the thinker's mind), and partly in the sciences -- geometrical figures, musical harmonies, the infinite variety of numbers. Though these are, I believe, genuine objects of the understanding in themselves, they nevertheless generate deceptive exercises of the imagination that reason itself can barely resist. Even the science of logic is not entirely free from this, since in our divisions and inferences we form, as it were, mental counters to help the reasoning process along.

5. In this entire forest of images, I trust you agree that those of the first class do not belong to the mind before they enter through the senses. No further argument needed there.

A question might be raised about the other two classes, were it not obvious that the mind is less subject to illusions before it has been exposed to the deceptive influence of senses and sensory objects. And yet who can doubt that the images in classes two and three are even more unreal than those the senses provide? The things we suppose, believe, or picture for ourselves are entirely unreal at every point; and the things we perceive through sight and the other senses, for all their limitations, are far closer to truth than these products of imagination.

As for the third class: whatever spatial extension I picture in my mind through one of these images -- even when it seems to have been produced by scientific reasoning that admits no error -- I can prove it to be deceptive, using the very same reasoning that detected its falsity. It is therefore wholly impossible for me to believe that the soul, before it ever used the bodily senses and before it was rudely assaulted through those fallacious instruments by everything mortal and fleeting, was subject to such abject slavery to illusions.

Chapter 3: Where mental images of unseen things come from.

6. Where, then, does our ability to conceive things we have never seen come from? What can the cause be, except a certain innate faculty of subtraction and addition that the mind carries with it wherever it turns? (This faculty is especially visible in relation to numbers.) Through this faculty, if the image of a crow -- very familiar to the eye -- is set before the mind's eye, features can be taken away and others added until it is transformed into almost any image that the physical eye has never seen.

Through this same faculty, when people's minds habitually dwell on such things, forms of this kind force themselves uninvited into their thoughts. So the mind can, by subtracting and adding as I described, produce through imagination something that, as a whole, was never observed by any of the senses. But the component parts were all within sensory experience, drawn from various different things.

For example: when we were boys, growing up in an inland district, we could already form some idea of the sea after seeing water in even a small cup. But the flavor of strawberries and cherries was utterly beyond our conception before we actually tasted them in Italy. And this is also why people born blind have nothing to say when asked about light and colors. Those who have never perceived colored objects through the senses cannot form mental images of them.

7. Do not find it strange that although the mind is present among all those images that exist in nature or can be pictured by us, it does not produce them from within itself before receiving them through the senses from outside. We find, after all, that anger, joy, and other emotions produce changes in our bodily appearance and complexion even before our conscious thinking has any idea we can produce such effects. These physical changes follow from the experience of emotion through wonderful processes -- especially worth your careful attention -- that involve the repeated action and reaction of hidden principles in the soul, entirely without any mental image of material things playing a part.

From this I would have you understand that since so many movements of the mind operate completely independently of these images, of all the ways the mind might conceivably come to know bodies, creating forms of sensory things through unaided thought is the least plausible. I do not believe the mind is capable of any such creations before it uses the body and the senses.

Therefore, my dear and most lovable brother, by the friendship that unites us and by our faith in divine law itself, I urge you: never form an attachment to those shadows from the realm of darkness, and break off without delay whatever friendship may have begun between you and them. The resistance to the tyranny of the bodily senses that is our most sacred duty is utterly abandoned if we treat with affection and flattery the very wounds the senses inflict upon us.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

Related Letters