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The Science of Memory Fully Expounded

B. Lyon Williams · 1866 · Free in the US

27,111 words · about 1 h 54 min to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
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About this book

Author
B. Lyon Williams
Language
English
Published
1866
Length
27,111 words · about 1 h 54 min
Sections
12 reader sections
Text
Digital text
Rights
Public domain in the United States

 

Contents (12)
  1. Front matter about 7 min
  2. Introduction about 14 min
  3. Chapter 1 about 10 min
  4. Chapter 2 about 17 min
  5. Chapter 3 about 5 min
  6. Chapter 4 about 9 min
  7. Chapter 5 about 9 min
  8. Chapter 6 about 5 min
  9. Chapter 7 about 4 min
  10. Chapter 8 about 7 min
  11. Chapter 9 about 18 min
  12. Appendix about 11 min

Continue:

Front matter

THE

FULLY EXPOUNDED.

FOR THE USE OF STUDENTS, MINISTERS, PUBLIC SPEAKERS, ETC.

Introduction

INTRODUCTION.

THE SUBJECT A REGULAR STUDY IN ANCIENT TIMES—THE GREAT PHILOSOPHEUS BY WHOM IT WAS MOST CULTIVATED—VIEWS OF MODERN PHILOSOPHERS ON ITS IMPORTANCE—DUTY OF ALL TO CULTIVATE IT REGULARLY—POPULAR METHOD USELESS AND MALEFIC—WHEREIN A GOOD MEMORY CONSISTS—ALL KNOWLEDGE LIABLE TO FADE FROM THE MIND'S COMMAND—THE NECESSITY OF EARNEST ATTENTION TO RECEIVE A CONCATENATION OF DEEP IMPRESSIONS—IMPRESSIONS OF THINGS, BY WHAT REGULATED—THE OPERATION OF THE MIND IN REMEMBERING A SUBJECT VARIES IN DIFFERENT PERSONS—THE PRESENT YEAILTY OF THE FACULTY WILL BE OBVIATED IN A HIGHER STATE OF EXISTENCE.

The subject to which this treatise is devoted is of such manifest importance in all the operations of the mind, that from the remotest ages it has attracted the attention of the wisest philosophers. Indeed, it would have been singular if those ponderous intellects of the ancient world had failed to recognize how greatly the mind is indebted for its fertility and beauty to the strength of the memory. Their keen eyes early observed it, and they bestowed much attention to the investigation of this faculty; and, finding its powers more limited than their requirements, they formed many contrivances for its assistance. The discovery of the first principles of the art is usually ascribed to Simonides, a poet of the Isle of Ceos, who flourished about five hundred and thirty years before Christ; but the manner of it that is handed down to us is so purely mythological and incredible, that it is unnecessary relating it here. However, under whatever circumstances they first appeared to his mind, to this early philosopher seems undoubtedly due the honour of originating the first system of Mnemonies, or a systematised plan for assisting the memory by means of a local fixation of the ideas. From his time the art gradually acquired popularity, and was regularly cultivated by the majority of the great philosophers and their disciples who succeeded him, of whom we may mention Eschylus, Socrates, Alexander the Great (in early life), Plato, Aristotle, Demosthenes, Plutarch, Seneca, Cicero, Julius Cæsar and Quintilian. The attention bestowed upon it by these, the most illustrious men of antiquity, is a sufficient testimony of the importance they attached to this faculty; and to such an extent did some of them cultivate it, that thereto they were mainly indebted for their elevation, greatness, and renown. Indeed, their wonderful memories have been the envy and the theme of admiration in all subsequent ages.

Modern philosophers, as well, have not been less sensible of its importance, and they have borne witness to it in most forcible terms. It is much to be regretted, however, that those whose conception of it has seemed the clearest, and whose remarks have been most particularly pertinent, should not, while possessing minds admirably adapted for the task, have prosecuted their enquiries sufficiently far as to have enabled them to have given the world a comprehensive analysis of the process of remembering, with rules adapted for universal application, and furnished such simple contrivances and suitable aids as the nature of our wants suggests. The following views of Dr. Watts on the importance of the memory are very pregnant of truth and interest:—"So necessary and so excellent a faculty is the memory, that all other abilities of the mind borrow from thence their beauty and perfection; for the other capacities of the soul are almost useless without this. To what purpose are all our labours in knowledge and wisdom, if we want memory to preserve and use what we have acquired? What signify all other intellectual and spiritual improvements, if they are lost as soon as they are obtained? It is memory alone that enriches the mind, by preserving what our labour and industry daily collect. In a word, there can be neither knowledge, nor arts, nor sciences, without memory; nor can there be any improvements in mankind in virtue or morals, or the practice of religion, without the assistance and influence of this power. Without memory the soul of man would be but a poor, destitute, naked being, with an everlasting blank spread over it, except the fleeting ideas of the present moment." The eloquent Robert Hall, in speaking of it, calls it "a power that can make amends for the speed of time, in causing him to leave behind him those things which else he would carry away as if they had not been."

The penetrating Dugald Stewart says, it is "a faculty which is obviously the great foundation of all intellectual improvement, and without which no advantage could be derived from the most enlarged experience."

Dr. Johnson also felt its great importance, and has thus alluded to it:—"Memory is the purveyor of reason, the power which places those images before the mind upon which the judgment is to be exercised, and which treasures up the determinations that are once passed as the rules of future action, or grounds of subsequent conclusions." Again:—"We owe to memory not only the increase of our knowledge, and our progress in rational enquiries, but many other intellectual pleasures."

The great Locke, in his Human Understanding, observes of it that, "It is of so great moment that, where it is wanting, all the rest of our faculties are in a great measure useless; and we, in our thoughts, reasonings and knowledge, could not proceed beyond present objects, were it not for the assistance of our memories."

To superadd anything to these just and eloquent views of its importance, would seem impossible and unnecessary. Should we, however, endeavour to test the accuracy of these assertions by tracing the work-ings of the memory in the various operations of our own minds, we shall be surprised to find how entirely we are dependent on its resources, and must acknow-ledge that these philosophers have in nowise exag-gerated its value. We shall not fail at once to re-cognize that it is the parent of all our experience, the source of fertility to the mind, whence spring all its beauties; that by it all our plans, purposes, desires, thoughts and reflections, are directed and governed; and further, that the tenaciousness of the memory is the guage and the sure index of the quality and vigour of the brain, and the strength of the mind.

Convinced, then, of its paramount importance, it would seem a duty on the part of all rightly constituted minds, to make its practical cultivation a fixed habit, and a subject of constant attention; but to accomplish this thoroughly and satisfactorily it can only be done in a systematic manner, and on scientific principles.

To this end is primarily required a knowledge of the laws which regulate the mind, and also those that govern the joining of ideas with each other.

It is useless to attempt to cultivate it in the popular fashion, and on the plan usually pursued at schools,—that of repeating things over sufficiently for the tongue to become familiar with them, with little regard to their import, precisely in the manner that parrots would be taught to say them. This plan is not only not calculated to strengthen and develop the faculties, as is often conceived, but is extremely prejudicial and deteriorative to them, and fails to accomplish the end desired, that of imprinting knowledge on the mind. The accuracy of this is confirmed by the fact that, so very little learnt or supposed to be learnt in this manner is remembered long, as immediately the lingual connection is at all destroyed the remaining portion is at once lost, and is as perfectly foreign to the mind's consciousness as if it had never been brought within its scope.

The true art of committing to the mind,—or remembering, and which will be developed in these pages, is to call into operation as much as possible those faculties on which the memory seems most deeply to depend, namely, observation and reflection; and, as must be obvious to all, the more thoroughly these are exercised, the more sagaciously they are called into operation in committing knowledge to the mind, so much the greater certainty there is of its being treasured up for future use, and the smaller the possibility of the connection or chain of ideas being broken.

Let us now enquire into what we understand by a good memory; and with that view, we must see what are its manifestations in those that we allow to possess it. We will firstly take the case of such a person in reading a book,—suppose cither a novel, or a volume of travels, which forms of reading are the easiest of remembrance. It will be seen at the conclusion of the novel that he will be able with tolerable accuracy to relate its opening, the dramatis personæ, as they are gradually unfolded and described, the plots and counterplots, and the chief incidents in the development of the story,—at times even with minute circumstantiality; but only in proportion as he is careful to preserve the exact sequence of the occurrences, stayed the attention to comprehend them fully, and allowed them to be vividly pictured before the mind. The readiness with which he will thus recapitulate them is in great measure attributable to the fact of his interest having been excited, and his eager attention wholly concentrated on the subject.

But should you try this person at the end of a week or two, it will be found that the impressions have begun to fade before the mind, and some of the minor details, overlooked, or difficult to recall. At the end of a month this will be more so, and a year hence only a few of the chief ideas will be preserved.

With regard to the volume of travels, the case will be much the same, only different in that the interest not being so highly raised, the process of reading is not so rapid, and the mind is thereby allowed a longer time to comprehend the various persons, places, scenes and incidents narrated, whereby what is lost in intensity of interest is more than compensated by plainer recognition and firmer impressions, and the probability thus ensue of a longer remembrance.

The same person, after hearing a sermon or a lecture, would be able to relate the substance of each, by carefully observing the salient points, noting the mutual dependence and propriety of the parts, and clearly realizing the whole. But it will be поticed, that while the impressions are recent and fresh, he will be able with tolerable accuracy to reproduce what he has heard, yet, as in the previous instances, these will specdily fade by reason of subsequent diversions of the mind, and further and newer impressions; so that soon all that remains will be, as before, a few of the most interesting or striking ideas; while these latter again will be liable to the same evanishment from the mind's power of recollection, according to the strength of the impressions.

Hence we find, that whatever may be a person's natural powers, the majority of the impressions or ideas made on his mind are not sufficiently strong to be for any length of time recallable, and even the more striking ones,—those that seem most deeply engraven, gradually disappear also from the mind's command.

The instances we have chosen are in nowise peculiar; for all knowledge, and everything that comes under the cognizance of the mind, is amenable to the same laws, whether in the feeble child or the powerful-minded adult, to the same tendency to fade away from the memory, only varying in degree according to the nature of the ideas, the circumstances under which the impressions are produced, and the constitution of the person's mind. Therefore, to attempt to stamp permanently on the mind any idea or train of ideas, would be useless and absurd, as in opposition to the laws by which it is governed in its present state.

A good memory, then, as usually understood by the expression, seems to consist mainly in retaining the purport, or the leading ideas, and a fair proportion of the details of any subject brought before the mind, as long as under the most favourable circumstances the ideas can be commanded; and to obtain this power would satisfy the wishes and be the utmost of what the majority of persons would require. The facility and certainty with which this may be done will be made apparent in the future pages. Again: propositions involving numbers present to the mind in remembering difficulties at times quite insurmountable, as the experience of all will testify; but the means here provided will in practice be found to deprive them of all obstacles to easy acquirement. As we find that the length of time anything is at the disposition of the mind, depends exclusively on the impression originally produced and the mind's familiarity with it, whatever therefore it is wished constantly to preserve at the power of the recollection should be occasionally reverted to, to retouch, as it were, the impression, and renew the mind's familiarity with it. The strength of the impressions produced is dependent in a very great measure on the degree of attention concentrated at the time, and the interest that is created in the mind. What we term throwing interest into a subject is only another expression for giving to it, or having elicited, undivided and forcible attention; so that the greater the power we can exert of giving complete attention to anything, the clearer and deeper will be the impressions that afterwards remain. Hence we see that the art of memory may to some extent be said to consist of the art of attention.

In the effort of remembrance, one frequent cause that things cannot be recalled to the mind is the inability to concentrate it sufficiently to view those various circumstances with which they are connected, and which would at once recall them; and this is borne out by the fact that, often something we wish to remember we find we cannot, and not uncommonly infer that it has completely passed away, when subsequently some trivial circumstance with which it has been connected immediately or inferentially, or to which it may bear some analogy, will bring it back again distinctly, to our complete surprise.

In the consideration of a subject, the more undivided the attention, the more completely the mind is concentrated on it, and the greater our vigilance to prevent its being diverted by any extraneous circumstances or thoughts,—of which it is very susceptible,—so much the keener will necessarily be the perception of it, the better the comprehension of it, and the greater the certainty of its being at hand when required to be recalled. This power of complete concentration, which is so very valuable in the economy of the mind, and which pertains to so few from the rarity with which it is practised, should be maintained as often, and as much as possible, until it becomes an acquired habit. It will strengthen the mind and the brain, render mental pursuits and recreations more exquisitely pleasing and profitable, and add multifold power to the faculty of remembrance.

The power of concentration is in great measure dependent on the strength of the brain to support it, though by cultivation it may be greatly increased; but unfortunately the occupations, pastimes, and even habits of the present day are more calculated than they formerly were to weaken it, and its cor- responding effect on society is manifest in numerous ways.

The clearness with which ideas are apprehended depends on the brain being fresh, and free from all that can tend to becloud it or prevent its activity, as in a state of bodily or mental fatigue, or immediately subsequent to a repast; but this will be no guarantee that they will be long retained. The clearness of their perception will tend to a lively impression of the same, but the strength and depth of the impressions rest, as we have seen, on the nature of the ideas, the conditions under which they are apprehended, and the vigour of the brain to receive them.

If we examine, we shall find that the operation of the mind in apprehending a subject with one person may be, and often is, much dissimilar from that in another, and this arises from the difference in the constitution and calibre of mental organizations, and the different degrees in which people possess the observing and reflective facultics. One person will, by means of the observing faculties, remember a subject with great accuracy, by noting carefully each part as it succeeds another, and what pertains to each; while another grasps the whole more completely through a greater intervention of the reasoning faculties, apprehends clearly the relationship of the parts, and the propriety or infelicity of cach, and reproduces it more immediately by the exercise of these faculties. Here the wisdom and goodness of Providence are conspicuously manifest in the arrangement of the faculties, so, that where one may prove deficient or insufficiently operative, another will come to the rescue; what one lacks. another will in some measure supply, and the end be accomplished for us through the instrumentality of differing faculties. Indeed, we shall find usually, that those who possess the reasoning powers to a great extent are more or less deficient in those of observation, and those who are endowed with the faculties of observation strongly and prominently lack in some proportion those of reflection.

Many believe that when any idea or train of ideas cannot be remembered or brought back to consciousness, it has necessarily wholly passed away from the mind's retention. Now, there is no valid reason to believe that any idea or impression of which any mind has been conscious, has, or ever will, become thoroughly effaced from it, though the link that connects it with the power of recollection may for a time be dissevered. It would seem that Providence foresaw it would not be well, or to his advantage, that man in his present condition should have a permanent recollection of those things that come under his cognisance, therefore He only allowed him this power to a limited extent, proportionate to his requirements and his other faculties. So, therefore, we may justly believe that in a more elevated and a purer state this faculty will be perfected, and all that now seems wholly to have passed away, or merged into Cimmerian obscurity, will then burst forth and unfold itself to his consciousness, as the landscape to the eyes of the traveller, when the morning mists are lifted by the rising solstice. Indeed, we may reasonably infer that this faculty which pertains to man on earth, at best only corresponding with his other limited powers, in a higher state of existence, when the ethereal part, his mind, himself, is rid of all those things now incident to his mortality, which becloud, harass, and impede its progress, will be exceedingly active, and with a clearness, freshness, and strength, of which now we cannot even form a remote conception; and that during the countless ages of futurity, and unto all time, the ideas and impressions of childhood, adolescence, youth, manhood, maturity, and old age, the mind will be able to recall with the freshness of recent reception.

We shall now make a few psychological enquiries, in order to understand more fully the nature of the memory, and its connection with the other faculties of the mind; then glance at those laws which govern the body, the observance of which in a greater or lesser degree produces corresponding effects on the brain, and influences accordingly its power and condition in the reception or rendition of ideas. We will then investigate the nature of ideas, and the laws under which they associate, and ascertain the principles on which to produce lively and deep impressions, from a just observation and appreciation of the circumstances and relations under which such are produced naturally.

Chapter 1

CHAPTER I.

THE PERFECTION OF MAN IN HIS CONSTRUCTION—THE BODY SUBORDINATE AND TRIBUTARY TO THE MIND—THE BRAIN, THE MIND'S MEDIUM OF COMMUNICATION WITH MATERIAL NATURE, AND THEIR INTIMATE DEPENDENCE ON EACH OTHER—THE BRAIN SHOULD BE CULTIVATED, IN ORDER TO PROMOTE THE FACILITY AND STRENGTH WITH WHICH THE FACULTIES OPERATE—THE MEMORY WILL PARTICIPATE IN THE IMPROVEMENT DIRECTLY, AND FURTHER INDIRECTLY THROUGH THE INCREASED STRENGTH OF THE OTHER FACULTIES—OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONDUCT OF THE BODY AND MIND—THE CAUSES OF IDEAS FADING FROM THE MIND—BY THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY THE OTHER POWERS OF THE MIND WILL BENEFIT.

Scripture informs us with touching simplicity that the great Architect of Nature in the beginning, when resting from His labours, reviewed all that He had done, "and saw that it was very good." In doing so, it will not be doubted but that the "master-piece" of His handiwork, which was reserved to the last as the culminating testimony of His wisdom and power, and as that to which all His other works were directed, was the chief work that occupied the attention, and excited the greatest pleasure in the Creator's mind in this contemplation. How exquisite and perfect, indeed, it must be, when Infinite Wisdom should see that "it is very good!"

Man has ever been a wonder to himself, and this great mystery has attracted the profound attention and reverent admiration of the most excellent of his race. The higher a man's ability to investigate and appreciate his own construction, his adaptation to surrounding things, and the part he was intended to play, the highest encomium he can still pass, and the purport of all his eloquence,—the exactness of which, however, he will the more intensely feel,—must be, but to reiterate the great Creator's judgment, "it is very good." The beautiful allusions of the Psalmist are well known, and the subject has afforded an inexhaustible theme for poets, philosophers, and divines, and will continue to do so, until to each the mystery of his being is solved.

The arrangements of his corporcal system have in late years been in great measure understood. The use of the various functions, and the intimate relationship of all the parts are demonstrated satisfactorily in medical science. But the body, which is the chiefest of his parts from an animal point of view, is in reality the most inferior, acting only a subordinate office in his being. Exquisite, nevertheless, though intended only as a temporary receptacle and medium for the diviner part, his mind, while undergoing initiatory tutelage in this probationary stage, the earth!

Man is sometimes defined as a triune being, consisting of body, mind, and soul; but it might be more accurate to define him as consisting of two, the body and the mind, the term soul being only another expression for the immortal, immaterial, and thinking ens,—a distinct mind. The nether portion of the frame administers to the functional part of the brain, and the latter forms the medium by which the mind or soul communicates with the outer world.

We thus perceive that the primary, the principal part of man is essentially his mind, and it is this which constitutes his direct individuality. For though in the outward appearance there are peculiar features and characteristics which, as they cannot be accurately defined, still distinguish him outwardly from all others of the species, yet they do not form his individuality, though they might be traced as effects or results of the particular constitution of his mind, his idiosyncracies, education, etc. A man's individuality, then, that which constitutes himself distinctly, and no other person, is his preeminent part—the mind.

The principal of the other part of his duality is the brain, which is the mind's passage-way and the chain of union with materiality; and its construction is so wonderful, its adaptation to its purpose so perfect, and the mind's dependence on it so peculiar and close, that it cannot be influenced in any manner without the mind participating equally therein. So that the health, vigour, and tone of the brain may be judged from the strength, healthiness, and clearness of the manifestations of the mind. A feeble arın cannot lift great weights, or be equal to much exertion; in like manner a weak brain cannot grasp great thoughts, support much exercise, or exhibit a powerful and capacious memory.

From the preceding remarks we are led inferentially to see how deeply important it is, if we desire to cultivate the strength of the mind and of its properties of reflection, memory, etc., for use in our pursuits and diversions, that we should endeavour to bring to a high degree the health, strength, and tone of the brain, through which they operate. This can only be done positively through the body which ministers to it, and negatively by not employing it in pursuits, pleasures, or anything that tends to excite and call it into activity to a greater extent than is healthy, that is, beyond that point which will cause a pleasant reaction to supervene. A few observations here, for guidance in this matter, will not be inappropriate.

Every action or exertion of the body, and every mental expression or impression, is dependent for facility, extent, and intensity on the force operating to produce the same, and the degree of vitality within. Such being the case, we should endeavour to increase as much as we can our inherent forces and the principle of vitality within us, in order that the operations, whether bodily or mental, that we may require to go through, may be executed with the highest degree of life, feeling, and consciousness.

Vitality, to the various actions of the body, may be compared to what steam is to the engine, and supplies energy, or that known as ardour or passion. This should only moderately be made use of and expended in exercise, labour, or study, and not to a greater extent than the vital functions can easily replenish before it is again drawn upon during exertion. The length of time that exertion can be maintained is according to the strength of the fibres brought into exercise, and the amount of vitality to support it.

Our natural forces, that is, the degree of power of action, are determined by the size and strength of the bodily members. When we wish to judge of a vessel's power of progression, we naturally desire first to be informed of the horse-power of the engines, as we know the greater their horse-power, the greater will be their relative power of propulsion. Power to the body, then, is what the horse-power of the engines is to a ship.

The reciprocal dependence of the degree of vitality within us, and the strength of the body on each other, must lead us to cultivate cach through the other. This is to be done by judicious and careful attention to the general health, an abundance of good air, plenty of muscular exercise, but an avoidance of prostration or over-exertion; by a sufli- ciency of sound, undisturbed sleep, wholesome and nutritious food, and drinks temperately indulged in at regular intervals of time, early hours of reposing and rising, habitual cleanliness, and appropriate clothing; by great regularity in the habits, which at any time, whatever their nature, must be modified or changed only gradually, as we observe is the case in all the changes and alterations in the outer world; by a diligent avoidance of those things which an intelligent observation has proved in each individual case to be injurious or detrimental to the corporeal or mental well-being.

The body might most accurately be likened to an engine, of which its owner is himself the stoker and engineer, and he has as much command and influence over it as these have over their senseless machines.

A constant state of activity is necessary to preserve the brain in health equally with the body; but to maintain its tone and vigour it must not be employed to a degree causing over-fatigue or much prostration, as a beneficial reaction does not then follow, and the parts thereby become enfeebled. Exertion is judicious and healthful according to the degree of pleasant reaction that succeeds it.

While in a state of wakefulness, some of the senses of the brain must constantly be at work taking impressions to the mind, therefore it is desirable that the mind should be continuously employed on carefully selected subjects, or, if it is not given work to do, it will roam at liberty according to its range of thought, and will speedily discover some for itself.

In order to preserve the mind and the brain in a high state of strength and health, great placidity and equanimity should always be maintained, and eagerness, haste, enthusiasm, and immoderate or unnatural stimulus avoided and guarded against. A moderate amount of stimulus, however, whether affecting primarily the mental faculties, or more immediately the corporeal frame, must in all cases have a beneficial tendency; but excess of either kind, however partial, is followed by unhealthy reaction and depression, and is accordingly debilitating and malefic. Further, cultivate constantly a deep consciousness of all that transpires around, and of everything brought before the notice, as a strong mind is conscious of things in a high degree, and a feeble one to a much more limited extent.

A wise attention to the foregoing observations will ensure good and pure blood being generated in a vigorous frame, and the fibrous part will gradually acquire such tone, that a square inch of flesh would sustain a much greater weight than such from a person who did not thus assiduously and carefully attend to his health. The brain will be strong and healthy, the spirits cheerful and buoyant, and the judgment decisive. The perceptions will be ready, subtle, com- prehensive, precise and enduring, as opposed to slow, heavy, partial, temporary and uncertain. Ocсuраtions, pleasures and studies, will be entered into with energy and zest. Besides, the more complete the attention thereto, the greater is the degree in which a person exists, and the more essentially is he individual and himself.

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