by Aristotle
it is that they recollect even without the effort of seeking to do so,
viz. when the movement implied in recollection has supervened on
some other which is its condition. For, as a rule, it is when
antecedent movements of the classes here described have first been
excited, that the particular movement implied in recollection follows.
We need not examine a series of which the beginning and end lie far
apart, in order to see how (by recollection) we remember; one in which
they lie near one another will serve equally well. For it is clear
that the method is in each case the same, that is, one hunts up the
objective series, without any previous search or previous
recollection. For (there is, besides the natural order, viz. the order
of the pralmata, or events of the primary experience, also a customary
order, and) by the effect of custom the mnemonic movements tend to
succeed one another in a certain order. Accordingly, therefore, when
one wishes to recollect, this is what he will do: he will try to
obtain a beginning of movement whose sequel shall be the movement
which he desires to reawaken. This explains why attempts at
recollection succeed soonest and best when they start from a beginning
(of some objective series). For, in order of succession, the
mnemonic movements are to one another as the objective facts (from
which they are derived). Accordingly, things arranged in a fixed
order, like the successive demonstrations in geometry, are easy to
remember (or recollect) while badly arranged subjects are remembered
with difficulty.
Recollecting differs also in this respect from relearning, that
one who recollects will be able, somehow, to move, solely by his own
effort, to the term next after the starting-point. When one cannot
do this of himself, but only by external assistance, he no longer
remembers (i.e. he has totally forgotten, and therefore of course
cannot recollect). It often happens that, though a person cannot
recollect at the moment, yet by seeking he can do so, and discovers
what he seeks. This he succeeds in doing by setting up many movements,
until finally he excites one of a kind which will have for its
sequel the fact he wishes to recollect. For remembering (which is
the condicio sine qua non of recollecting) is the existence,
potentially, in the mind of a movement capable of stimulating it to
the desired movement, and this, as has been said, in such a way that
the person should be moved (prompted to recollection) from within
himself, i.e. in consequence of movements wholly contained within
himself.
But one must get hold of a starting-point. This explains why it is
that persons are supposed to recollect sometimes by starting from
mnemonic loci. The cause is that they pass swiftly in thought from one
point to another, e.g. from milk to white, from white to mist, and
thence to moist, from which one remembers Autumn (the 'season of
mists'), if this be the season he is trying to recollect.
It seems true in general that the middle point also among all things
is a good mnemonic starting-point from which to reach any of them. For
if one does not recollect before, he will do so when he has come to
this, or, if not, nothing can help him; as, e.g. if one were to have
in mind the numerical series denoted by the symbols A, B, G, D, E,
Z, I, H, O. For, if he does not remember what he wants at E, then at E
he remembers O; because from E movement in either direction is
possible, to D or to Z. But, if it is not for one of these that he
is searching, he will remember (what he is searching for) when he
has come to G if he is searching for H or I. But if (it is) not (for H
or I that he is searching, but for one of the terms that remain), he
will remember by going to A, and so in all cases (in which one
starts from a middle point). The cause of one's sometimes recollecting
and sometimes not, though starting from the same point, is, that
from the same starting-point a movement can be made in several
directions, as, for instance, from G to I or to D. If, then, the
mind has not (when starting from E) moved in an old path (i.e. one
in which it moved first having the objective experience, and that,
therefore, in which un-'ethized' phusis would have it again move),
it tends to move to the more customary; for (the mind having, by
chance or otherwise, missed moving in the 'old' way) Custom now
assumes the role of Nature. Hence the rapidity with which we recollect
what we frequently think about. For as regular sequence of events is
in accordance with nature, so, too, regular sequence is observed in
the actualization of kinesis (in consciousness), and here frequency
tends to produce (the regularity of) nature. And since in the realm of
nature occurrences take place which are even contrary to nature, or
fortuitous, the same happens a fortiori in the sphere swayed by
custom, since in this sphere natural law is not similarly established.
Hence it is that (from the same starting-point) the mind receives an
impulse to move sometimes in the required direction, and at other
times otherwise, (doing the latter) particularly when something else
somehow deflects the mind from the right direction and attracts it
to itself. This last consideration explains too how it happens that,
when we want to remember a name, we remember one somewhat like it,
indeed, but blunder in reference to (i.e. in pronouncing) the one we
intended.
Thus, then, recollection takes place.
But the point of capital importance is that (for the purpose of
recollection) one should cognize, determinately or indeterminately,
the time-relation (of that which he wishes to recollect). There
is,-let it be taken as a fact,-something by which one distinguishes
a greater and a smaller time; and it is reasonable to think that one
does this in a way analogous to that in which one discerns (spacial)
magnitudes. For it is not by the mind's reaching out towards them,
as some say a visual ray from the eye does (in seeing), that one
thinks of large things at a distance in space (for even if they are
not there, one may similarly think them); but one does so by a
proportionate mental movement. For there are in the mind the like
figures and movements (i.e. 'like' to those of objects and events).
Therefore, when one thinks the greater objects, in what will his
thinking those differ from his thinking the smaller? (In nothing,)
because all the internal though smaller are as it were proportional to
the external. Now, as we may assume within a person something
proportional to the forms (of distant magnitudes), so, too, we may
doubtless assume also something else proportional to their
distances. As, therefore, if one has (psychically) the movement in AB,
BE, he constructs in thought (i.e. knows objectively) GD, since AG and
GD bear equal ratios respectively (to AB and BE), (so he who
recollects also proceeds). Why then does he construct GD rather than
ZH? Is it not because as AG is to AB, so is O to I? These movements
therefore (sc. in AB, BE, and in O:I) he has simultaneously. But if he
wishes to construct to thought ZH, he has in mind BE in like manner as
before (when constructing GD), but now, instead of (the movements of
the ratio) O:I, he has in mind (those of the ratio K:L; for
K:L::ZA:BA. (See diagram.)
When, therefore, the 'movement' corresponding to the object and that
corresponding to its time concur, then one actually remembers. If
one supposes (himself to move in these different but concurrent
ways) without really doing so, he supposes himself to remember.
For one may be mistaken, and think that he remembers when he
really does not. But it is not possible, conversely, that when one
actually remembers he should not suppose himself to remember, but
should remember unconsciously. For remembering, as we have conceived
it, essentially implies consciousness of itself. If, however, the
movement corresponding to the objective fact takes place without
that corresponding to the time, or, if the latter takes place
without the former, one does not remember.
The movement answering to the time is of two kinds. Sometimes in
remembering a fact one has no determinate time-notion of it, no such
notion as that e.g. he did something or other on the day before
yesterday; while in other cases he has a determinate notion-of the
time. Still, even though one does not remember with actual
determination of the time, he genuinely remembers, none the less.
Persons are wont to say that they remember (something), but yet do not
know when (it occurred, as happens) whenever they do not know
determinately the exact length of time implied in the 'when'.
It has been already stated that those who have a good memory are not
identical with those who are quick at recollecting. But the act of
recollecting differs from that of remembering, not only
chronologically, but also in this, that many also of the other animals
(as well as man) have memory, but, of all that we are acquainted with,
none, we venture to say, except man, shares in the faculty of
recollection. The cause of this is that recollection is, as it were
a mode of inference. For he who endeavours to recollect infers that he
formerly saw, or heard, or had some such experience, and the process
(by which he succeeds in recollecting) is, as it were, a sort of
investigation. But to investigate in this way belongs naturally to
those animals alone which are also endowed with the faculty of
deliberation; (which proves what was said above), for deliberation
is a form of inference.
That the affection is corporeal, i.e. that recollection is a
searching for an 'image' in a corporeal substrate, is proved by the
fact that in some persons, when, despite the most strenuous
application of thought, they have been unable to recollect, it (viz.
the anamnesis = the effort at recollection) excites a feeling of
discomfort, which, even though they abandon the effort at
recollection, persists in them none the less; and especially in
persons of melancholic temperament. For these are most powerfully
moved by presentations. The reason why the effort of recollection is
not under the control of their will is that, as those who throw a
stone cannot stop it at their will when thrown, so he who tries to
recollect and 'hunts' (after an idea) sets up a process in a
material part, (that) in which resides the affection. Those who have
moisture around that part which is the centre of sense-perception
suffer most discomfort of this kind. For when once the moisture has
been set in motion it is not easily brought to rest, until the idea
which was sought for has again presented itself, and thus the movement
has found a straight course. For a similar reason bursts of anger or
fits of terror, when once they have excited such motions, are not at
once allayed, even though the angry or terrified persons (by efforts
of will) set up counter motions, but the passions continue to move
them on, in the same direction as at first, in opposition to such
counter motions. The affection resembles also that in the case of
words, tunes, or sayings, whenever one of them has become inveterate
on the lips. People give them up and resolve to avoid them; yet
again they find themselves humming the forbidden air, or using the
prohibited word. Those whose upper parts are abnormally large, as.
is the case with dwarfs, have abnormally weak memory, as compared with
their opposites, because of the great weight which they have resting
upon the organ of perception, and because their mnemonic movements
are, from the very first, not able to keep true to a course, but are
dispersed, and because, in the effort at recollection, these movements
do not easily find a direct onward path. Infants and very old
persons have bad memories, owing to the amount of movement going on
within them; for the latter are in process of rapid decay, the
former in process of vigorous growth; and we may add that children,
until considerably advanced in years, are dwarf-like in their bodily
structure. Such then is our theory as regards memory and remembering
their nature, and the particular organ of the soul by which animals
remember; also as regards recollection, its formal definition, and the
manner and causes-of its performance.
-THE END-
.
350 BC
PHYSICS
by Aristotle
translated by R. P. Hardie and R. K. Gaye
Book I
1
WHEN the objects of an inquiry, in any department, have
principles, conditions, or elements, it is through acquaintance with
these that knowledge, that is to say scientific knowledge, is
attained. For we do not think that we know a thing until we are
acquainted with its primary conditions or first principles, and have
carried our analysis as far as its simplest elements. Plainly
therefore in the science of Nature, as in other branches of study, our
first task will be to try to determine what relates to its principles.
The natural way of doing this is to start from the things which
are more knowable and obvious to us and proceed towards those which
are clearer and more knowable by nature; for the same things are not
'knowable relatively to us' and 'knowable' without qualification. So
in the present inquiry we must follow this method and advance from
what is more obscure by nature, but clearer to us, towards what is
more clear and more knowable by nature.
Now what is to us plain and obvious at first is rather confused
masses, the elements and principles of which become known to us
later by analysis. Thus we must advance from generalities to
particulars; for it is a whole that is best known to sense-perception,
and a generality is a kind of whole, comprehending many things
within it, like parts. Much the same thing happens in the relation
of the name to the formula. A name, e.g. 'round', means vaguely a sort
of whole: its definition analyses this into its particular senses.
Similarly a child beg
ins by calling all men 'father', and all women
'mother', but later on distinguishes each of them.
2
The principles in question must be either (a) one or (b) more than
one. If (a) one, it must be either (i) motionless, as Parmenides and
Melissus assert, or (ii) in motion, as the physicists hold, some
declaring air to be the first principle, others water. If (b) more
than one, then either (i) a finite or (ii) an infinite plurality. If
(i) finite (but more than one), then either two or three or four or
some other number. If (ii) infinite, then either as Democritus
believed one in kind, but differing in shape or form; or different
in kind and even contrary.
A similar inquiry is made by those who inquire into the number of
existents: for they inquire whether the ultimate constituents of
existing things are one or many, and if many, whether a finite or an
infinite plurality. So they too are inquiring whether the principle or
element is one or many.
Now to investigate whether Being is one and motionless is not a
contribution to the science of Nature. For just as the geometer has
nothing more to say to one who denies the principles of his
science-this being a question for a different science or for or common
to all-so a man investigating principles cannot argue with one who
denies their existence. For if Being is just one, and one in the way
mentioned, there is a principle no longer, since a principle must be
the principle of some thing or things.
To inquire therefore whether Being is one in this sense would be
like arguing against any other position maintained for the sake of
argument (such as the Heraclitean thesis, or such a thesis as that
Being is one man) or like refuting a merely contentious argument-a
description which applies to the arguments both of Melissus and of
Parmenides: their premisses are false and their conclusions do not
follow. Or rather the argument of Melissus is gross and palpable and