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12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature also,
ascending by degrees unto Him who made me. And I enter the fields
and roomy chambers of memory, where are the treasures of countless
images, imported into it from all manner of things by the senses.
There is treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by
enlarging or diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those
things which the sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath
been entrusted to it and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet
engulfed and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I demand that
what I wish should be brought forth, and some things immediately
appear; others require to be longer sought after, and are dragged, as
it were, out of some hidden receptacle; others, again, hurry forth
in crowds, and while another thing is sought and inquired for, they
leap into view, as if to say, "Is it not we, perchance?" These
I drive away with the hand of my heart from before the face of my
remembrance, until what I wish be discovered making its appearance out
of its secret cell. Other things suggest themselves without effort,
and in continuous order, just as they are called for, those in
front giving place to those that follow, and in giving place are
treasured up again to be forthcoming when I wish it. All of which
takes place when I repeat a thing from memory.
13. All these things, each of which entered by its own avenue, are
distinctly and under general heads there laid up: as, for example,
light, and all colours and forms of bodies, by the eyes; sounds of
all kinds by the ears; all smells by the passage of the nostrils; all
flavours by that of the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body
is brought in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough,
heavy or light, whether external or internal to the body. All these
doth that great receptacle of memory, with its many and indescribable
departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth when required;
each, entering by its own door, is hid up in it. And yet the things
themselves do not enter it, but only the images of the things perceived
are there ready at hand for thought to, recall. And who can tell how
these images formed, notwithstanding that it is evident which of the
senses each has been fetched 'm and treasured up? For even while I
live in darkness and silence, I can bring out colours in memory if I
wish, and discern between black and white, and what others I wish;
nor yet do sounds break in and disturb what is drawn in by mine eyes,
and which I am considering, seeing that they also are there, and are
concealed,laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I can summon
if I please, and immediately they appear. And though my tongue be at
rest, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I will; and
those images of colours, which not withstanding are there, do not
interpose themselves and interrupt when another treasure is under
consideration which flowed in through the ears. So the remaining
things carried in and heaped up by the other senses, I recall at my
pleasure. And I discern the scent of lilies from that of violets
while smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to grape-syrup, a smooth
thing to a rough, though then I neither taste nor handle, but only
remember.
14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory.
For there are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think
upon in them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I
meet with myself, and recall myself, what, when, or where I did
a thing, and how I was affected when I did it. There are all which
I remember, either by personal experience or on the faith of others.
Out of the same supply do I myself with the past construct now this,
now that likeness of things, which either I have experienced, or,
from having experienced, have believed; and thence again future
actions, events, and hopes, and upon all these again do I meditate
as if they were present. "I will do this or that," say I to myself
in that vast womb of my mind, filled with the images of things so many
and so great, "and this or that shall follow upon it." "Oh that
this or that might come to pass!" "God avert this or that!" Thus
speak I to myself; and when I speak, the images of all I speak
about are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor could I
say anything at all about them were the images absent.
15. Great is this power of memory, exceeding great, O my
God, an inner chamber large and boundless! Who has plumbed the
depths! thereof? Yet it is a power of mine, and appertains unto my
nature; nor do I myself grasp l all that I am. Therefore is the
mind too narrow to contain itself. And where should that be which it
doth not contain of itself? Is it outside and not in itself?
How is it, then, that it doth not grasp itself? A great admiration
rises upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at
the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of
the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the stars,
and omit to wonder at themselves; nor do they marvel that when I spoke
of all these things, I was not looking on them with my eyes, and yet
could not speak of them unless those mountains, and waves, and
rivers, and stars which I saw, and that ocean which I believe in,
I saw inwardly in my memory, and with the same vast spaces between as
when I saw them abroad. But I did not by seeing appropriate them
when I looked on them with my eyes; nor are the things themselves with
me, but their images. And I knew by what corporeal sense each made
impression on me.
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