Plotino - Tratado 27,31 (IV, 3, 31) — Isto que se lembram as almas; a sua saída do corpo (1)

31. Pero si la memoria se atribuye a la imaginación, como, según se dice, cada una de las dos almas cuenta con su memoria, habrá dos clases de imaginación. No hay dificultad en entenderlo así cuando estas dos almas se encuentran separadas; más, estando unidas en nosotros en un mismo ser, ¿cómo podría haber aquí dos imaginaciones? Y, si es así, ¿en cuál de las dos imaginaciones se produciría el recuerdo? Porque, si se produce en ambas, tendremos siempre una doble imagen de cada cosa. No digamos que una de las imaginaciones representa las cosas inteligibles, y la otra las cosas sensibles, pues, en ese caso, estaríamos compuestos de dos seres que no guardan relación entre sí. Ahora bien, si la memoria se halla en las dos imaginaciones, ¿qué diferencia existe entre las dos imágenes? ¿Cómo no nos damos cuenta de esta diferencia? Ocurre que, o bien una imagen se muestra de acuerdo con la otra y, no existiendo separadas las dos imaginaciones, una de ellas ha de dominar a la otra, con lo cual se produce una sola imagen, o bien una de las imágenes acompaña a la otra como una sombra o como una débil luz que sigue los pasos de otra luz mayor. Aunque también podría haber lucha y disonancia entre ellas, de tal modo que una y otra se manifestasen por sí mismas. Se nos oculta en realidad cuál de ellas está en la otra, porque es evidente que desconocemos la dualidad de nuestras almas. Ambas concurren a una unidad, si bien una de estas almas cabalga sobre la otra. Una de ellas, ciertamente, lo ve todo, e incluso fuera del cuerpo conserva algunos recuerdos, aunque abandone los de la otra alma. Lo mismo que acontece cuando abandonamos la compañía de seres más humildes por otros de más alcurnia: sólo conservamos de los primeros un pequeño recuerdo, mientras de los segundos tenemos una fiel imagen.

XXXI. Si la mémoire appartient à l’imagination, et que l’âme raisonnable ainsi que l’âme irraisonnable possèdent également la mémoire, il y aura deux espèces d’imagination [l’imagination intellectuelle et l’imagination sensible], et, si les deux âmes sont séparées, elles posséderont chacune une espèce d’imagination. Mais, puisque les deux espèces d’imagination se trouvent contenues en nous dans le même principe, comment se fait-il qu’il y ait deux imaginations, et à laquelle appartient le souvenir ? Si le souvenir appartient aux deux espèces d’imagination, il y aura toujours deux imaginations (car on ne peut dire que le souvenir des choses intelligibles appartienne à l’une, et celui des choses sensibles à l’autre ; sinon ce seraient deux êtres animés n’ayant rien de commun ensemble). Si donc le souvenir appartient également aux deux imaginations, quelle différence y a-t-il entre elles ? Ensuite, comment ne remarquons-nous pas cette différence ? En voici la cause.

Quand les deux espèces d’imagination sont d’accord, elles concourent [à produire un seul acte] : la plus puissante domine, et il ne se produit en nous qu’une seule image ; la seconde accompagne la première ; c’est le faible reflet d’une puissante lumière. Quand les deux espèces d’imagination sont au contraire en désaccord et luttent ensemble, alors l’une se manifeste seule, et nous ignorons ce qui est dans l’autre, comme nous ignorons complètement que nous avons deux âmes : car les deux âmes sont fondues en une seule, et l’une sert de véhicule à l’autre. L’une voit tout, mais elle ne garde que certains souvenirs quand elle sort du corps et elle laisse tomber dans l’oubli la plupart des choses qui se rapportent à l’autre. De même, quand, après nous être liés avec des amis d’un ordre inférieur, nous en avons acquis d’autres plus distingués, nous nous souvenons fort peu des premiers et beaucoup des seconds.

THE TWO KINDS OF MEMORY IMPLY TWO KINDS OF IMAGINATION.

31. If theory belong to imagination, and if both the rational and irrational souls possess memory, we will have two kinds of imagination (intellectual and sensual); and if both souls are separate, each of them will possess one kind of imagination. The theory of two kinds of imagination within us in the same principle would not account for there being two kinds of imagination; and it would leave unsolved the question to which of them memory belongs. If memory belong to both kinds of imagination, there will always be two kinds of imagination — for it cannot be said that the memory of intelligible things belongs to the one, and that of sense-things to the other; otherwise we would have two animate beings with nothing in common. If then memory equally belong to both imaginations, what difference is there between them ? Besides, why do we not notice this difference? Here is the cause.

OF THE TWO IMAGINATIONS ONE ALWAYS PREDOMINATES OR OVERSHADOWS THE OTHER.

When both kinds of imagination harmonize, they co-operate (in the production of a single act). The most powerful dominates, and only a single image is produced within us. The weaker follows the stronger, as the feeble reflection of a powerful light. On the contrary, when both kinds of imagination disagree and struggle, then only one of them manifests, and the other is entirely ignored, just as we always ignore that we have two souls; for both souls are melted into a single one, and the one serves as vehicle for the other. The one sees all, but preserves only certain memories when she leaves the body, and leaves in oblivion greater part of the things that relate to the other. Likewise, after we have established relations with friends of an inferior order, we may acquire more distinguished friendships, and we remember the former but very little, though we remember the latter very distinctly.

PARTITION OF THE FUND OF MEMORY BETWEEN THE TWO SOULS.

What about (the memory) of friends, of parents, of a wife, of the fatherland, and of all that a virtuous man may properly remember? In the image of the soul (the irrational soul) these memories will be accompanied by a passive affection; but in the man (the rational soul) they will not be so accompanied. The affections exist since the beginning in the inferior soul; in the superior soul, as a result of her dealings with the other, there are also some affections, but only proper affections. The inferior soul may well seek to remember the actions of the superior soul, especially when she herself has been properly cultivated; for she can become better from her very principle up, and through the education she receives from the other. The higher soul must willingly forget what comes to her from the inferior soul. When she is good, she can, besides, by her power contain the subordinate soul. The more she desires to approach the intelligible world, the more she must forget the things from here below, unless the whole life she has led here below be such that she has entrusted to her memory none but praiseworthy things. Even in our own world, indeed, it is a fine thing to release oneself from human preoccupations. It would therefore be still finer to forget them all. In this sense we might well say that the virtuous soul should be forgetful. She thus escapes manifoldness, reduces manifoldness to unity, and abandons the indeterminate. She therefore ceases to live with manifoldness, lightens her burdens, and lives for herself. Indeed, while remaining here below, she desires to live in the intelligible world, and neglects all that is foreign to her nature. She therefore retains but few earthly things when she has arrived to the intelligible world; she has more of them when she inhabits the heavens. Hercules (in heaven) may well vaunt his valor; but even this valor seems to him trifling when he has arrived at a region still holier than heaven, when he dwells in the intelligible world, when he has risen over Hercules himself by the force manifested in those struggles which are characteristic of veritable sages.

XXXI. If, however, memory pertains to the phantastic power, but each soul is said to remember, there will be two powers of the phantasy. The two souls, therefore, being separate, each will possess a phantastic power. But since they are with us in the same thing, how will they be two, and in which of them will memory be ingenerated ? For if in both, there will always be twofold imaginations. For it must not be said, that the remembrance of intelligibles pertains to the one, but of sensibles to the other; since thus there will in every respect be two animals, having nothing in common with each other. If, therefore, there is memory in both what will be the difference P In the next place, what should hinder us from knowing this? Shall we say that we are then ignorant of the difference, when the one power is in symphony with the other; the phantastic powers not being separate, but that which is the more excellent of the two prevailing, one phantasm is produced, since the one follows the other like a shadow, and is subservient to it like a less to a greater light. When, however, there is a contest and dissonance between the two, then the one shines forth through itself; but it is concealed in the other, because in short that there are two souls is concealed from us. For both coalesce in one, and the one is diffused but not the other. The one, therefore, sees all things, and possesses some things indeed, proceeding from it, but dismisses others, as pertaining to the other power. Just as when we have sometimes conversed with persons of a viler character, and afterwards betake ourselves to those who are more worthy, we remember but little of our conversation with the former, but much of it with the latter.

31. But if each of the two phases of the soul, as we have said, possesses memory, and memory is vested in the imaging faculty, there must be two such faculties. Now that is all very well as long as the two souls stand apart; but, when they are at one in us, what becomes of the two faculties, and in which of them is the imaging faculty vested?

If each soul has its own imaging faculty the images must in all cases be duplicated, since we cannot think that one faculty deals only with intellectual objects, and the other with objects of sense, a distinction which inevitably implies the co-existence in man of two life-principles utterly unrelated.

And if both orders of image act upon both orders of soul, what difference is there in the souls; and how does the fact escape our knowledge?

The answer is that, when the two souls chime each with each, the two imaging faculties no longer stand apart; the union is dominated by the more powerful of the faculties of the soul, and thus the image perceived is as one: the less powerful is like a shadow attending upon the dominant, like a minor light merging into a greater: when they are in conflict, in discord, the minor is distinctly apart, a self-standing thing - though its isolation is not perceived, for the simple reason that the separate being of the two souls escapes observation.

The two have run into a unity in which, yet, one is the loftier: this loftier knows all; when it breaks from the union, it retains some of the experiences of its companion, but dismisses others; thus we accept the talk of our less valued associates, but, on a change of company, we remember little from the first set and more from those in whom we recognize a higher quality.