Madame, there is a great dispute between the princes of philosophy, Plato and Aristotle, over the condition of the intellectual soul, which they admit openly to be celestial, divine, immortal, and separable  from the body.  But Plato holds that it is of itself knowledgeable in all things and that the memory of them is erased and lost the instant the sou; is submerged and mired in our moist and soft bodies. Then, as our bodies dry up little by little, the soul once again clean and shining remembers and recognizes all things bit by bit, as though learning them for the first time. For, according to Plato, what we call learning is but a remembering.

 Aristotle, on the contrary, affirms that our soul comes to the body ignorant of everything, but capable and very quick to conceive all things, being a truly simple spirit, but in potency capable of grasping everything. He compares it to a virgin tablet on which nothing has been engraved, ready to receive all the colors and shapes desired. This latter notion has had more of a following than the former and is held as the true one among those who philosophize best. For if one became knowledgeable through the drying of the body, it would follow that there would be no need for doctrine, and that error would have no foothold in our souls (provided that the external senses were complete and in working order); but both these conclusions are patently absurd.

  What need would one have of doctrine or teaching if the soul of itself became, or became once again, knowledgeable? And if it were only because of the superfluous moisture of the body that the soul did not know everything, whatever could be shown to it would not be understood or retained, and we would have to wait until it dried up to remember the things forgotten.  In such a case, doctrine would be vain and totally useless (unless it served to put someone lost back onto the path), for after the drying of the body, the soul would still be as lost as ever, continuing in its forgetfulness. Furthermore, all people of the same age and makeup would have to be equally knowledgeable, since their bodies would be equally dried and their souls equally less moist. As for error, what place could it have if the soul knew everything, as long as the external senses did not deceive it by showing it one thing for another? The soul would not know what it had not yet discovered or recognized, but this is not error, for at least what it knew would be true, since all knowledge is verifiable.

  Now nothing is more common and ordinary in the soul than error and false opinion. They must come from somewhere and make their way in from the outside, namely, from false doctrine and evil persuasion. It is true enough that the soul is able to forge error and lies for itself (as is the case in most men), abusing itself through ignorance. For in wishing to reason and argue about something, the soul, ignorant of some aspects and not sure of others, forms a faulty syllogism and then a bad conclusion, with which it remains satisfied, holding it in ignorance because it is unable to discern the truth from the false. Thus is error engendered, and it will be more firmly rooted in the souls of the presumptuous—forgers of false opinions---than it will in the souls of the credulous, who accept false doctrine without argument or difficulty.

  There, madame is the source of error. This shows well that the soul is ignorant of it self and capable only of receiving what one wishes to paint or engrave upon it, whether good or evil, true or false. Just as water is without character, receiving all flavors indifferently, and just as white wool takes on all colors, so, too, is the soul modified with each quality. Happy indeed is the soul that meets up with good masters, especially for rudimentary learning, so that it will not be engraved, tainted, saturated, or impregnated with evil traits, colors, humors, or odors that are false, corrupted and vicious from the start. For it is almost as difficult, if not impossible, to erase, repair, or reform false opinions inscribed and imprinted in a soft medium, which receives them very quickly, as it is to change the luster, tint, and color already imprinted in the countenance and complexion, or to alter humors engendered by pernicious nutrients. From all these come similar manners and similar actions, which, like foul odors, refuse emendation without first reforming the entire humor engendering them and thus offend not only the nose but also the mind of those having more sense.

From POPULAR ERRORS (1587) by Laurent Joubert translated by Gregory David de Rocher, The University of Alabama Press in 1989.