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A master's thesis presented to Brandeis University's Department of Classical Studies, exploring the ancient Greek understanding of memory as a divine concept that goes beyond simple recollection of past events. The author delves into the role of Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory, and her connection to truth, knowledge, and the Muses. The text also discusses memory training techniques and their significance in the context of recollection and the human capacity to connect memories.
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A Theology of Memory: The Concept of Memory in the Greek Experience of the Divine
Master’s Thesis Presented to The Faculty of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences Department of Classical Studies^ Brandeis University Leonard Muellner, Advisor
of the Requirements For^ In Partial Fulfillment Master’s Degree Michiel van Veldhuizen^ by
May 2012
A Theology of Memory: The Concept of Memory in the Greek Experience of the Divine A thesis presented to the Department of Classical Studies Graduate School of Arts and Sciences Brandeis University Waltham, Massachusetts By Michiel van Veldhuizen
To the ancient Greek mind, memory is not just concerned with remembering events in the past, but also concerns knowledge about the present, and even the future. Through a structural analysis of memory in Greek mythology and philosophy, we may come to discern the particular role memory plays as the facilitator of vertical movement, throwing a bridge between the realms of humans and gods. The concept of memory thus plays a significant role in the Greek experience of the divine, as one of the vertical bridges that relates mortality and divinity. In the theology of Mnemosyne, who is Memory herself and mother of the Muses, memory connects not only to the singer-poet’s religiously efficacious speech of prophetic omniscience, but also to the idea of Truth itself. The domain of memory, then, shapes the way in which humans have access to the divine, the vertical dimension of which is expliticly expressed in the descent-ascent of the ritual passage of initiation. The present study thus lays bare the theology of Memory.
Introduction Toute la civilisation grecque est une recherche de ponts à lancer entre la misère humaine et la perfection divine. Leur art à quoi rien n’est comparable, leur poésie, leur philosophie, la science dont ils sont les inventeurs (géométrie, astronomie, mécanique, physinventé (?) l’idée deique, biologie) n’étaient pas autre chose que des ponts. Ils ont médiation. Nous avons gardé ces ponts pour les regarder. Croyants comme incroyants.^1
The relationship between human and divine is an all-pervasive theme in Greek literature that is most intricately bound up to the opposition of life and death—humans are mortal, gods are immortal or deathless. The bold but poignant claim by French philosopher and mystic Simone Weil that all Greek civilization is but an attempt to bridge these realms applies particularly well to the Greek concept of memory. Although the Greek concept of memory finds many various and seemingly unconnected expressions across time and genre, I argue that the function of memory is conceived of as surprisingly uniform, from Hesiod to Aristotle. The faculty of memory enables us to excite the mind in order to access knowledge through recollection, and it is the power of recollection that facilitates a vertical movement upward: from forgetfulness to remembrance, from past to present, from potentiality to actuality, from mortality to immortality. Memory functions as a metaxu , an idea of mediation. I propose that in this way, memory plays a significant role in the Greek experience of the divine, as one of the vertical bridges that relates human mortality and divine perfection. I attempt to show how in the theology of Mnemosyne, who is Memory herself and mother of the Muses, (^1) Weil 1953a, 68.
memory connects not only to the singer-poet’s religiously efficacious speech of prophetic omniscience, but also to the idea of Truth itself; for Plato, recollection is in fact the bridge to the realm of Truth. The domain of memory, then, shapes the way in which humans have access to the divine, the vertical dimension of which is most powerfully expressed in the descent-ascent of the ritual passage of initiation. My first chapter is concerned with laying the conceptual groundwork of memory, remembering, and recollection, and it lays bare the parameters of verticality, spatiality, and temporality. While the first chapter relies heavily on the metaphors employed by Plato’s philosophical and Aristotle’s physiological conceptualization of memory, the second chapter delves more into the mythological context in which the theology of Mnemosyne emerges, and mostly draws on Archaic poetics. Underlying my transition from the philosophical to the religious configuration of memory is Louis Gernet’s assertion that “mythical concepts, religious practice, and societal forms ... were involved in philosophy’s beginnings.”^2 In my treatment of Mnemosyne as well as in the subsequent discussion of the Muses and the singer-poet, I follow Marcel Detienne’s reliance on “Ernst Cassirer’s and Antoine Meillet’s hypothesis that language guides ideas, vocabulary is more a conceptual system than a lexicon, and linguistic phenomena relate to ... influential schemata present in techniques, social relations, and the contexts of communicative exchange.”^3 It is in this context, too, that the triad Memory-Truth- Forgetfulness becomes significant as the guiding principle of the singer-poet’s power of immortalization—the divine gift of the Muses, daughters of Memory herself.
(^23) Gernet 1981, 353. Detienne 1996, 19.
human suffering and divine perfection, then rediscovering the bridge of Memory may lead us closer once again to the divine—through a theology of Memory, that is. Now, what better place to start than with an invocation to Memory herself: ἐ]πεύχο Μναμ[ο]σύ[ν]ᾳ κόραισί τ’ εὐ[μαι] δ’ Οὐρανοῦ τ’ εὐπέπλῳ (^) - θυγατρὶ μαχανίαν διδόμεν. τ]υφλα[ὶ γὰ]ρ ἀνδρῶν φρένες, ὅ]στις ἄνευθ’ Ἑλικωνιάδων βαθεῖαν ε .. (Pindar [..]. Paean ων ἐρευνᾷ 7b15-20) σοφίας 4 ὁδόν. And I pray to the well-robed daughter of Ouranos, Mnemosyne, and her daughters, for blind are the minds of men,^ to give resourcefulness, whoever without the Heliconians seeks .... the steep path of wisdom.^5
(^45) The Greek texts from Pindar are from the Loeb Classical Library, edited by William H. Race (1997). All translations from the original Greek and Latin texts are mine, unless mentioned otherwise.
Chapter I Metaphors of Memory: Conceptualizing Remembrance and Recollection
The concept of memory is notoriously hard to grasp, yet its importance is hard to overlook. It is connected to our understanding of phenomena like identity, time, knowledge, and history—personal as well as cultural.^6 Salvatore Settis has argued that classical antiquity itself has provided us with the ruins that stir up memories of a distant ‘other.’^7 Our present concern, however, is mainly with the internal human faculty that facilitates remembering, which is in no way less elusive. After one of Bertrand Russell’s more intricate discussions of memory and remembering, the philosopher famously concluded: “This analysis of memory is probably extremely faulty, but I do not know how to improve it.”^8 At first glance, the concept of memory in the Greek experience of the divine rests on one major presupposition, namely that memory has some role to play in Greek religion; it should be borne in mind, however, that in a polytheistic system the religion is inseparable from its practice and its experience. The term the divine , therefore, is intended to encompass all that which makes explicit the divide between the human and the divine , an opposition that evokes mortality and immortality, life and death.^9
(^67) Finley 1965, 281-302. 8 Settis 2006, esp. 54-90.Russell 1921, 187. (^9) Vernant 1991, 27-
keeping, a place of storage. A quick glance at intellectual history shows that something as elusive as memory is perhaps best captured through metaphors.^11 To memorize something—the process of internalizing knowledge to make it readily available, i.e. to commit information to memory—is expressed in English as learning ‘by heart.’ The Italians learn something ‘in the mind’ ( a mente ), but when the Dutch memorize they learn something ‘out of the head’ ( uit het hoofd ). The latter suggests a connection between memorization and external storage, which the Germans in fact express most abstractly: to memorize is to ‘learn externally’ ( auswendig lernen ). The paradox seems to be that memory is an internal mode of external storage. Our access to this external store is through the process of recalling or recollection, which brings about remembering. This distinction is important, because recollection (ἀνάμνησις) expresses memory’s verticality, while remembering denotes the horizontal actualization thereof. We remember where the car is parked and the day of our anniversary, but to recollect is to bring to light, up from the depths of the mind, information that we actively and consciously seek to recall. The process of recollection, then, is like climbing a ladder, using the set sequence of rungs to gather back up what dwells down below. Our memory, however, tends to lose information: we forget things. I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind. ... At these times ... I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one’s mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one’s leisure.^12 The idea that we would be able to peruse our memories at our own leisure seems quite attractive, not too mention convenient for those who, like Professor Dumbledore, simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into their minds. J.K. Rowling’s literary (^1112) Draaisma 2000, 7-23. Rowling 2000, 518.
invention of the Pensieve illustrates the idea of separating the faculty of memory from our mind, as it would allow us to relive past moments and revisit past events without the tiresome process of recollection, and with no fear of forgetting or overlooking anything. At the same time, the appearance of the Pensieve in popular literature hints at the sort of thing that we imagine our memory to be: a mental faculty through which we can summon back experiences from the past. But the Pensieve also allows its user to relive the past as if it were the present, and to walk places one is not currently at—in other words, it facilitates the transcendence of time and space. This mode of recollection presupposes the idea that memory can be stored outside of ourselves, much like an external hard-drive or a memory stick. The Pensieve, then, is an actual external store of memories, literally disconnected from the mind, which simply re-creates all sense-perceptions of a particular time and place, as some very sophisticated, indeed magical, copy. As illustrated by the Pensieve, the idea of an external store is that such an access to information prevents this information from being lost—forgetfulness is foiled, provided we know how to decode the information.^13 The capacity for decoding is indicative of a strong connection between memory and language. To a certain extent, animals other than human beings have this capacity too; Émile Benveniste points at bees in particular: The bees appear to be capable of giving and receiving real messages which contain several data. ... They can store thescan, furthermore, communicate them by means of symbols, using differente data in some kind of ‘memory.’ They somatic movements. Indeed, the most remarkable thing is that they show an aptitude for symbolizing: there is undoubtedly a ‘conventional’ relation between their behavior and the facts it conveys. ... So far we find among bees the very conditionsformulating and interpreting a without which no (^) ‘sign’ which refers to a certain ‘reality,’language is possible, i.e., the capacity (^) thefor
(^13) Small 1997, 8, writes: “An external store requires only that the user should know how to ‘decode’ it, and significantly the time when the decoding occurs is not important.”
πολυγνώμονες εἶναι δόξουσιν, ἀγνώμονες ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πλῆθος ὄντες, καὶ χαλεποὶ συνεῖναι, δοξόσοφοι γεγονότες ἀντὶ σοφῶν.’ (Plato Phaedrus 274e-275b)^18 ‘And this invention, o king,’ said Theuth, ‘will make the Egyptians wiser and better at remembering. For a drug for memory and wisdom was discovered.’ But he said: ‘O most crafty Teuth, one man has the ability to beget things of art, but another has the ability to judge what share it has in harmfulness and usefulness forthose who are going to use it. Now you too, since you are the father of letters, have said because of your affection the opposite of what it really can. For this invention will produce forgetfulness in the souls of those who learn it, by neglect of their memory, inasmuch as through their trust in writing, externally because of characters that are not their own, they will not remember internally themselves bytheir own. You have not discovered a drug for memory but for reminding. You provide those who learn it with the appearance of wisdom, not truth. For they will become much-learned because of you but without instruction they will only seem to be very wise, while being for the most part ignorant, and difficult to be with, since they have become seemingly wise instead of being wise.’ The notion that writing provides an external storage device is made quite explicit, and not deemed to be useful for memory—it is a drug for reminding rather than for remembering.^19 Writing may remind someone of the message externally, but remembering is the active process carried out internally; thus being reminded through the aid of writing undermines one’s memory through “neglect, lack of practice” (ἀμελετησίᾳ) in remembering. Plato also makes a distinction between the mere appearance of wisdom and truth, since for Plato, as we will see, true knowledge comes from the internal dialectic of recollection. Part of Plato’s problem with written words is that they are mimetic: they are only as good as the knowledge of those who have written them. As with paintings, there is no dialogue possible:
(^18) All Greek texts from Plato are from the Oxford Classical Texts, edited by John Burnet (1903), unless mentioned otherwise. (^19) Small 1997, 10 suggests that Plato’s often recognized ambivalent attitude towards writing (after all, he himself in fact wrote extensively) rests on the “great transitional and formative stages” of writing at that time.
ταὐτὸν δὲ καὶ οἱ λόγοι: δόξαις μὲν ἂν ὥς τι φρονοῦντας αὐτοὺς λέγειν, ἐὰν δέ τι ἔρῃ ἅπαξ γραφῇ, κυλινδεῖται μὲν πανταχοῦ πᾶς λόγος ὁμοίως τῶν λεγομένων βουλόμενος μαθεῖν, ἕν τι σημαίνει μόνον παρὰ ταὐτὸν τοῖς ἐπαΐουσιν ἀεί. ὅταν δὲ, ὡς δ᾽ αὕτως παρ᾽ οἷς οὐδὲν προσήκει, καὶ οὐκ ἐπίσταται λέγειν οἷς δεῖ γε καὶ μή. (Plato Phaedo 275d-e) And [written] words are like that too: you might suppose that they speak as if theythemselves in some way think, but if you were to ask them something, wishing to learn from the things they are saying, it still always signifies only one and the same thing. And whenever you write something once and for all, every word rolls along everywhere alike, for those who give ear to it, and so in the same way for those who have nothing to do with it; and it does not know to whom it shouldspeak and to whom it should not.
Plato’s critique centers on the impossibility of reciprocation: the communication concerns only a certain objective fact, and with no dialogue possible the objective fact is merely imitated.^20 The wisdom words convey is only as good as their representation of truth. In the Philebus , Socrates compares the writings in a book to the sense-perceptions in the soul, and he shows himself an epistemological skeptic toward sense-perception in general: Δοκεῖ αἰσθήσεσι μοι ξυμπίπτουσατότε ἡμῶν ἡεἰς ψυχὴ ταὐτόν βιβλίῳ κἀκεῖνα τινὶ (^) ἃπροσεοικέναι περὶ ταῦτα. (^) ἐστι... Ἡ τὰ μνήμη παθήματα ταῖς φαίνονταί μοι σχεδὸν οἷον γράφειν ἡμῶν ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς τότε λόγους· καὶ ὅταν μὲν ἀληθῆ γραψῃ τοῦτο τὸ πάθημα, δόξα τε ἀληθὴς καὶ λόγοι ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ ξυμβαίνουσιν ἀληθεῖς ἐν ἡμῖν γιγνόμενοι· ψευδῆ δ’ ὅταν ὁ τοιοῦτος παρ’ ἡμῖν γραμματεὺς φράψῃ, τἀναντία τοῖς ἀληθέσιν ἀπέβη. (Plato Philebus 38e-39a) For I think that at that time the soul is like some book. ... For memory falls together with sense-perceptions into itself, and these experiences and the things which are around it, they seem to me almost to write words in our souls at that time; and when the particular experience writes the truth, true opinions and words from it agree with the truth are produced in us; but when such writer within uswrites falsehoods, the resulting opinions and statements are the opposite of true.
(^20) This critique in fact coincides with one of Benveniste’s criteria of language that is lacking among bees: “Because the bees are incapable of dialogue, the communication concerns only a c “linguistic” information is involved, there being no reply. For a reply is a linguistic reaction to a linguisticertain objective fact. No manifestation.” Benveniste 1971, 53.
another, thus following a pattern, a sequence. Although the metaphor of the scroll does involve the principle of writing, it in no way should remind us of our typical container of writing: a scroll is not used the way in which we use a book. A book can be opened at any random place, and can truly be perused at one’s leisure. A scroll, on the other hand, must be unrolled in the order in which it comes: the notion of sequence is thus much more specific than in the case of a bound book. Seneca wishes to train the accessibility of memory. Memory training, known as mnemotechnics or ars memoriae , does precisely that: it seeks to improve the accessibility of memory by strengthening the use of sequence when recollecting.^22 The use of sequence finds expression in the notion of places ; loci in Latin, or τόποι ( topoi ) in Greek, which are used by practitioners of mnemotechnics. Although the art and training of memory is a different subject altogether, the concept of memory in this context nonetheless bears witness to a crucial aspect of memory: its sequence and its spatiality. According to the tradition of oratory, the first one to discover this practice was the Greek lyric poet Simonides of Ceos, nicknamed Melicus (‘honeyed one’),^23 who was able to identify the mangled corpses of those who died when the roof of Scopas’ dining room collapsed: Simonides dicitur ex eo [modo], quod meminisset quo eorum loco quisque cubuisset. ... Hac tum re admonitus invenisse fertur ordinem esse maxume, qui memoriae lumen adferret. (Cicero de Oratore 2.86.353)^24
(^22) That mnemotechnics actually are effective is convincingly demonstrated by Joshua Foer’s recent best- selling bookauthor applies ancient mnemotechni Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything cs to become America’s memory champion; see Foer 2011., in which the (^23) Yates 1966, 29 mentions an ancient inscription from Greece dated to around 264 BCE, which actually lists Simonides as the inventor of mnemotechnics, in Loeb’sCeian Simonides son of Leoprepes the inventor of the system of memory-aids, won the chorus prize at Lyra Graeca II, 249: “From the time when the Athens, and the statues were set up to Harmodius and Aristogeiton, 213 years (i.e. 477 BCE).” The fragment known as the Dialexeis , dated to around 400 BCE, contains a section on memory and how to practice and strenghten it through the use of attention, repetition, and images; Yates 1966, 29-30. (^24) The Latin texts from Cicero are from the Teubner edition by Albert Wesenberg (1885).
It is said that Simonides through this method remembered in which place each ofthem had been dining. ... Suggested by this event, then, he is said to have discovered that the most important thing is orderly arrangement, which brings forth the light of memory. Those trained and versed in ars memoriae have acquired easy access to past facts they wish to remember through the method of orderly arrangement, in which places ( loci ) and orderly arrangement ( ordo ) play an important role: Itaque iis qui hanc partem ingenii exercerent, locos esse capiendos et ea, quae memoria tenere vellent, effingenda animo atque in iis locis collocanda; sic fore ut ordinem rerum locorum ordo conservaret, res autem ipsas rerum effigies notaret atque ut locis pro cera simulacris pro litteris uteremur. (Cicero de Oratore 2.86.354) And so, by those who train this part of their intellectual ability, places must be selected, and these things which they wish to retain in their memory, they must be formed in the mind and arranged in these places; it will be in this way, so that the orderly arrangement of the places preserves the order of the facts, and the imageof the facts, moreover, marks the facts themselves, so that we use the places as wax and the images as letters. The basic idea of mnemotechnics is to assign mental images to mental places, and the latter must be in orderly arrangement. By ‘walking’ through these places, then, the images are presented in the same sequence. Cicero explains the spatiality of memory with the analogy of inscribing a writing tablet: the places are represented by the wax (cf. locis pro cera ) and the images are represented by the written letters (cf. simulacris pro litteris ). Again, we should be aware that the analogy of a wax tablet differs from a book or a papyrus roll, both of which despite their above-mentioned differences involve a certain permanency. The letters on a wax tablet, on the other hand, can be easily erased, back to a state of tabula rasa. Cicero’s analogy, moreover, does not address the process of recollection or the training of memory per se , but the proper use of places—the analogy is between
θὲς δή μοι λόγου ἕνεκα ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς ἡμῶν ἐνὸν κήρινον ἐκμαγεῖον, τῷ μὲν μεῖζον, τῷ δ᾽ ἔλαττον, καὶ τῷ μὲν καθαρωτέρου κηροῦ, τῷ δὲ κοπρωδεστέρου,καὶ σκληροτέρου, ἐνίοις δὲ ὑγροτέρου, ἔστι δ᾽ οἷς μετρίως ἔχοντος. ... δῶρον τοίνυν αὐτὸ φῶμεν εἶναι τῆς τῶν Μουσῶν μητρὸς Μνημοσύνης, καὶ εἰς τοῦτο ὅτι ἂν βουληθῶμεν μνημονεῦσαι ὧν ἂν ἴδωμεν ἢ ἀκούσωμεν ἢ αὐτοὶ ἐννοήσωμεν, ὑπέχοντας αὐτὸ ταῖς αἰσθήσεσι καὶ ἐννοίαις, ἀποτυποῦσθαι, ὥσπερ δακτυλίων σημεῖα ἐνσημαινομένους: καὶ ὃ μὲν ἂν ἐκμαγῇ, μνημονεύειν τε καὶ ἐπίστασθαιἕως ἂν ἐνῇ τὸ εἴδωλον αὐτοῦ: ὃ δ᾽ ἂν ἐξαλειφθῇ ἢ μὴ οἷόν τε γένηται ἐκμαγῆναι, ἐπιλελῆσθαί τε καὶ μὴ ἐπίστασθαι. (Plato Theaetetus 191c-e) Assume, then, for the sake of my argument, that there is a lump of wax within our souls, for some larger, for others smaller, and for some the lump is of purer wax,for others of impurer wax [like dung], and for some it is harder, and within others it is softer, and for some it is within measure. ... Let us say, therefore, that this is the very gift of Mnemosyne, mother of the Muses, and that if we should wish to remember things we have seen or heard or we ourselves have thought, we hold this very wax under the sense-perceptions and thoughts, and imprint them upon it,just as we make impressions from seal rings; and whatever is impressed, we remember and know as long as the image of it is implanted, but whatever is wiped out or cannot be impressed, we forget and do not know. The metaphor compares memory to a block of wax, because the tertium comparationis is the malleability or impressionability of its surface: impressions can be left behind in the wax, depending on how big, pure, and hard it is. Just as a wax surface may be impressed with the image of a seal ring, so memory may be impressed with sense-perceptions and thoughts. A gift from the goddess Mnemosyne herself, the human faculty of memory is located within the soul, where it retains the impressions of things heard, seen, and thought, as long as the imprints thereof do not fade. The same metaphor of the seal-ring is used by Aristotle in his work On Memory and Recollection , and he too stresses the importance of the quality of the surface: ἡ γὰρ γιγνομένη κίνησις ἐνσημαίνεται οἷον τύπον τινὰ τοῦ αἰσθήματος, καθάπερ οἱ σφραγιζόμενοι τοῖς δακτυλίοις. (Aristotle de Memoria 450 a31-450b)^27 For when the movement occurs it imprints as some mould of the sense-perception, precisely as when stamping with seal-rings.
(^27) The Greek text is from Aristotle’s De Sensu and De Memoria , edited by G.R.T. Ross (1973), from the series Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle. All other texts from Aristotle are from the Loeb Classical Library.
Memory does not occur when people are in rapid transition, or when they are old or very young—there is either too much fluidity or too much density for the sense-perception to leave a proper imprint (450b). Aristotle’s physiological analysis of memory and recollection is very much dependent on the theory of knowledge which he expounds in his On the Soul. It suffices to say that for Aristotle all knowledge ultimately is derived from sense-perception, in which form it enters the soul, although it is treated by or absorbed into the imaginative faculty before it becomes thought: imagination, which produces a mental picture, is the intermediary between sense-perception and thought ( De Anima , 427b; cf. De Memoria , 449b34: καὶ νοεῖν οὐκ ἔστιν ἄνευ φαντάσματος, “there is no thinking without imagery”).^28 Interestingly, the entering of sense-perception into the soul is described as “movement” (κίνησις), a term essential in Aristotle’s signature potentiality-actuality distinction. Elsewhere, Aristotle defines κίνησις as “the actualization of what potentiality is, as such” (ἡ τοῦ δυνάμει ὄντος ἐντελέχεια, ᾗ τοιοῦτον, Physics 201a11), though there is much debate on what Aristotle exactly means.^29 We may interpret κίνησις as a translatory motion with intrinsic meaning (e.g. learning how to play the Moonlight Sonata), thus the actuality of potentiality qua potentiality. A piano player who is learning to play the Moonlight Sonata has the potentiality to actually play it; his practicing the piece (κίνησις), then, is the actuality of the potentiality as such, namely the potentiality to actually play it.^30 The potentiality-actuality paradigm becomes especially important when
(^2829) Yates 1966, 32. potentiality to actuality, but Kosman has a slightly different view, as he distinguishes several types ofKosman 1969, 40. A common interpretation (e.g. by Ross) is that^ κίνησις^ means the passage from potent (^30) Kosman 1969, 51-3.iality.