Book 1, Chapter 24

“Well?

56 “Do you think those arguments any less weighty which show that human souls possess certain divine qualities? If I could see how these could come into being, I could also see how they might perish. For I seem able to say from what blood, bile, phlegm, bones, sinews, veins—in short, the whole structure of the limbs and the entire body—have been compounded, and how they were made. As for the soul itself, if it contained nothing except what enables us to live, I should think human life sustained by nature just as the life of a vine or tree is; for we say that these too are alive. Likewise, if the human soul had nothing beyond the impulse to seek or avoid, it would share that too with beasts.

57 “But first it has memory, an unbounded memory of countless things. Plato holds that this is recollection of an earlier life. In the book entitled Meno, Socrates asks a young boy some questions in geometry about the measurement of a square. The boy answers as a boy would; yet the questions are so easy that, answering step by step, he reaches the same point he would have reached had he studied geometry. From this Socrates wants to establish that learning is nothing other than recollecting. He explains this point far more carefully in the conversation he held on the very day he departed this life. He shows that anyone who seems wholly untrained in every subject, by answering a skillful questioner, reveals that he is not learning those things for the first time, but recognizing them through recollection. It could not possibly be that from childhood we had notions of so many great things implanted and, as it were, stamped upon our souls—what the Greeks call ἔννοιαι, ‘conceptions’—unless the soul had been active in acquiring knowledge before it entered the body.

58 “And since nothing existed […] as Plato argues throughout his works—for he thinks nothing that arises and perishes truly exists, and that only what always remains as it is exists, which he calls ἰδέα, an ‘idea,’ and we a ‘form’—the soul could not have come to know these things while confined in the body: it brought them already known. This removes the wonder of its knowledge of so many things. The soul does not see them clearly when it has suddenly moved into so unfamiliar and troubled a dwelling; but once it has collected and refreshed itself, it recognizes them through recollection.

59 “Thus learning is nothing other than recollecting. But I marvel at memory in a still greater way. What is this faculty by which we remember? What power does it have, and from what source was that power born? I am not asking how great a memory Simonides is said to have had, or Theodectes, or Cineas, sent by Pyrrhus as his envoy to the Senate, or, in recent times, Charmadas, or Metrodorus of Scepsis, who lived just lately, or our own Hortensius. I am speaking of ordinary human memory, especially that of people engaged in some more demanding study or art. It is difficult to judge how great their minds are: so much do they remember.”

“What about this?

56 “Is the evidence for divine powers within human souls really any weaker, in your view? Show me how such powers could come into existence and I could also see how they might end. With blood, bile, phlegm, bones, sinews, and veins, I think I can account for their materials and formation. That goes for the entire shape of the body and its limbs. But take the soul itself. If all it did was enable us to live, I’d think nature sustained human life just as it sustains vines or trees: we say they’re alive too. And if seeking things and shunning things were the human soul’s only abilities, those would be abilities it shared with animals.

57 “To begin with, there’s memory: it can hold countless things without limit. For Plato, memory recalls a previous life. Take his book Meno. Socrates puts questions about a square’s measurements to a little boy. His replies are a child’s, yet the questions are simple enough to take him, one answer at a time, to the result he would reach with training in geometry. Socrates wants this to establish that what we call learning is simply remembering. He works through the point still more carefully in the discussion on his last day alive. As he shows there, someone who seems utterly uneducated can reveal, by answering well-put questions, that this isn’t new learning: recollection is allowing them to recognize what they knew. Otherwise, how could we have had, right from childhood, notions of so many great subjects planted in our souls, almost stamped into them? These notions are called énnoiai. They couldn’t possibly be there unless the soul had been actively getting to know things before it went into a body.

58 “And since nothing existed […], as Plato argues throughout his works—he thinks nothing that comes into being and dies really exists; only what always stays the way it is exists, and he calls it an idéa, what we call a form—the soul couldn’t have recognized these things while shut inside the body. It brought them in already known. That removes the mystery of how it knows so many things. The soul doesn’t see them clearly when it’s suddenly moved into such an unfamiliar, confused home. But once it’s gathered itself and recovered, it recognizes them by remembering.

59 “So to learn is simply to remember. I find another aspect of memory still more astonishing. This thing that enables us to remember—what is it? What can it do, and where did it originate? My question isn’t about the reports of Simonides’ enormous memory, or Theodectes’, or that of Cineas, Pyrrhus’ envoy to the Senate. Nor am I asking about Charmadas in recent times, Metrodorus of Scepsis just lately, or our own Hortensius. I mean the memory that human beings generally have, particularly those engaged in a more demanding field of study or skilled work. Their minds hold so much that it’s hard to estimate their capacity.”