Stokes on Memory/Mind and Memory

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Almost everybody says, "it is a great advantage to have a good Memory," but if we take it for granted that everybody who expresses this opinion has a cor. rect knowledge and thorough realization of how much that which we call "mind" is Memory, or is dependent upon Memory, we make a great mistake. This great mistake has been made too often, so let us beware lest we fall into that error

Analysis of the mind will show that it is almost all Memory. Memory is generally said to be "the retention of things perceived," consequently Perception is supposed to be of primary importance—in fact, the cause, of which Memory is but the effect.

But we shall soon see that readiness and accuracy of Perception depend upon Memory. For instance, no sensible man would invite a sailor to choose for him a horse, nor a sportsman to choose for him a vossel, when he could have the sportsman's opinion upon the animal, and the sailor's advice upon the craft. And why so? Because everybody knows that although the sailor might "look at" the horse, yet he would not be able to perceive its merits or defects; and although the sportsman might "look at" the vessel, yet he would not perceive its various characteristics. The question now arises why two men of equally good eyes should not see equally.

Because the sailor has in his mind, that is to say in his Memory, a great many ships, and a great many circumstances connected with them; and the sportsman has in his mind, that is, in his Memory, a great many horses, and a great many remembrances connected with them; and this difference, ​in the Memory of the two men, is the cause of the difference in their capability of Perception. Readiness and power of Perception, then, are determined by Memory; and it must be further borne in mind, that that which is perceived is valueless unless it is retained by the Memory. Perception not only depends upon Memory, but that which is often called "Perception" is in reality not "Perception" but Memory. If you say, "I perceive a train is coming; it has just passed the bridge;" it is equal to saying, "I know, by means of my Memory, that the train was at the bridge, but now it is nearer to us." In this case you could only tell the train was in motion by having in your Memory the fact that it was farther off. If it were not for this remembrance of the previous position of the train. you could only say, "there is a train," for it would be impossible for you to perceive it to be in two places at once.

Careful reflection upon this subject will show that the minutest mental acts are in the most part Memory; thus with the simple perception of a person blinking the eyes, the eyes are first seen open, then for a fraction of an instant closed, then again open. The first two conditions must be borne in the Memory, or the Perception of "blinking" is not conveyed to the mind. The appreciation or Perception of a tune, and the comprehension or Perception of an ordinary sentence depend, in like manner, upon Me mory. Many words arouse in the mind the influence of Complex Memory, although they are generally supposed to produce simple Perception, especially compound words. Thus, the word "windmill," first suggests to the Memory the idea of wind, which, as we cannot see it, makes us think of something which we can see, associated in our Memory with wind, and ​then we think of a mill—some mill which is already in our Memory, and which is a "wind-mill." And mark, while saying the second syllable of the word "wind-mill," we must have in Memory the fact that the word "wind" preceded it, otherwise we might think of a water-mill, a steam-mill, a paper-mill, a cotton-mill, a pepper-milf, or many others.

But further: not only is Perception dependent upon Memory, but Attention, without which it is impossible to perceive.

In listening to a lecture in which technicalities are frequently introduced, introduced, he who understands their meaning, that is to say, he who has their meaning in his Memory, will be far better able to fix his attention than he who has not, other things being equal. When we hear or see something with which we are unacquainted, that is, with which we have по associations in our Memory, the mere act of trying to attend distracts our attention, because conscious intelligent Attention calls forth an effort of the mind, to fix in Memory that to which we are attending; and the longer and more difficult the efforts of Attention upon one point, the less will be the Attention upon another.

This is particularly the case when impressions are made through the ear, as the succession of ideas is presented too rapidly for the mind to grasp, that is, to attend to sufficiently to lodge in the Memory.

Prolonged Attention is called "Concentration," and consists in bringing our ideas as much as possible to a given centre. It is mainly dependent upоп rightly regulated Memory, as it is the continued remembrance of a certain thing, or of certain things. In Concentration, however, the attention is not wholly bestowed upon the things we desire to retain, but in fact Concentration Concentration is Memory governing Memory. For in "concentrating" our thoughts, we ​are constantly remembering that we must especially endeavour to remember certain things which we ultimately wish to remember.

Again: Conception, Imagination, and Invention, and all the creative powers of the mind, have their origin or germ, which origin or germ is Memory. The vulgar notion about imagination and invention, is thoroughly erroneous. People have the idea that these faculties are self-creative, self-developing, and wholly independent of all others. But every "new idea" springs directly, or indirectly, from an old one, although it is common for the ordinary thinker to be unaware of the origin of thought upon the majority of subjects. Unconscious suggestion appears to be more characteristic of unimportant and imperfectly watched and badly regulated minds, than of those of a higher nature. Many seem to regard it as a fanciful theory, that for every mental effect there is a cause; but surely it must be so, although the cause may not at all times be apparent. We are indebted to the genius of Milton for the conception of "Paradise Lost," but the genius of Milton consisted in a vivid remembrance of a record in the Bible, a ready remembrance of expressive words, and a constant remembrance of a certain metre, Had he forgotten either, the genius of Milton would have been marred. We are indebted to the genius of Shakspeare, "the immortal bard," for many of the purest and finest specimens of imagination that have ever charmed and wonder-struck the world. But the genius of Shakspeare consisted in accurate remembrance of historic facts, a vital remembrance of the feelings and sensations of the human heart, and a practical remembrance of the laws of rhetoric. The imaginings of Shakspeare have a magic power, because they seem so unimaginative—real! Because they awaken in our mind, that is to say, in our Memory, passions and ​sentiments which another, with a memory less informed, less experienced, and less skilfully exercised, would fail to arouse! Had Shakspeare forgotten the characteristics of the individuals of whom he wrote; had he forgotten the objects and circumstances by which they were surrounded; or had he forgotten the plots which his own brain had interwoven,—the name of Shakspeare—the soul-upstirring name of Shakspeare would have been a name unknown! Even Shakspeare, with all his colossal, powerful, and resplendent genius, has afforded sufficient discrepancies and and anachronisms to teach us intellectual dwarfs a lesson, that as the mightiest minds might sometimes be more mighty, if possessed of better memory, we should never think our memory "perfection!" We are indebted to the mechanical genius of Watt for the invention of the steam-engine; but the genius of Watt consisted in the remembrance of a variety of objects, facts, principles, requirements, and appliances suggested to his mind—that is to say, to his Memory—by the sight of a steaming tea-kettle, which tea-kettle, and which suggestions he bore in mind—that is to say, he kept in his Memory; prompted by which remembrance, he tried experiments, which he remembered, until, by the perfection of the association of remembrances made tangible—the steam-engine—that mighty masterpiece masterpiece of human skill—sped forth to bless the world.

Creative wit is the remembrance of congruities, and appreciative wit can only be manifested by those who have similar remembrance.

Comparison and Reflection are dependent upon Memory; evidently we can only compare mentally those things which we remember, and it must be plain that we cannot reflect upon that which we have forgotten. Reflection, meditation, contemplation, are all other names for Memory. He who reviews his ​actions at the close of each day, is indebted to Memory for the good he may derive from his self-searching.

Judgement—lofty, reverenced, much-extolled Judgment—is humiliatingly dependent upon that to which it is supposed by some to be so far superior, and of which it is by some regarded as wholly independent—Memory! Memory may exist without Judgment, but Judgment cannot exist without Memory. Memory is capricious, Judgment falters and fails. If Memory is treacherous, mighty Judgment may be dethroned—may be reduced to pitiable helplessness. The sphere of Judgment is circumscribed with all, and Memory prescribes its limits.

Arithmetical Calculation is the remembrance of certain numerical facts, rules, and results.

All that tends to refine the taste, expand the mind, and elevate the soul, is dependent upon Memory. Taste is Memory. Taste is the remembrance of hai monious combinations.

Executive keenness, shrewdness, or tact, depends mainly on Memory. The sharp business-man is not unacquainted with men and manners, but is he who knows both—that is to say, who remembers them.

Our Rationality is Memory; Memory; the reason we do not mistake ourselves for other people, is because we remember our personal identity

​Not only intellectual power, but disposition, or character, is mainly dependent upon Memory. Although this is rarely acknowledged verbally, yet universally it is acknowledged practically. Sensible people know very well tint mere intellectual power. much as it is to be desired, is far from being all that is essential to the full development of the mind. Without a certain slure of intelligence, that is to say, of Memory, we find only the drivelling idiot—a thing incapable of appreciating, or even discerning the relationship of surrounding objects, and we pity! But we have a pity deeper far, a loathing. a contempt, a sorrow, a feeling of distress, when we see a brilliant intellect devoid of moral Memory. If a youth is "clever," but unreliable; if a man is "talented," but vicions; or if a woman is "sparkling," yet unloveable,—the memory of the heart, the memory of the soul requires development and exercise. This is practically acknowledged by the care which thoughtful and pious parents bestow upon their children, endeavouring to prevent these conditions by giving them a proper training, that is, by instilling into their Memory proper precepts, and by placing them in such circumstances that their future actions shall never be misguided by the remembrance of bad examples.

Love is constant, appreciative, pleasurable remembrance. Love frequently occupies the mind with its own particular object to the entire exclusion of every other. Hence, when young people seem to forget all ordinary things, it is commonly suggested that "they must be in love"!

Joy, Delight, Gratification, Pleasure, arise from the remembrance of that which is in harmony with our condition.

Thankfulness, Gratitude, Appreciation, are the re​membrance of benefits and advantages. Oft have poets sung of the pleasures of Memory, but perhaps not one ever attributed the enjoyment of the present to the Memory of the past. But it is so. We rejoice to see a "friend," because we remember his friendship. A stranger does not rejoice e to to see him, simply because he is not in a position to remember his merits. To descend to meaner things. We enjoy a "good dinner," because when we see the food, we taste it in anticipation—that is, in Memory; we remember that which we tasted before; when we eat it we enjoy the perception, that is, the remembrance that we are eating it, and when we have eaten it, we enjoy the remembrance that we are satisfied. A man may read while eating the most wholesome or the most dainty food, and yet not enjoy it in the least, simply because because his is Memory is occupied with his reading, and he may be scarcely conscious that he is eating.

Faith is the remembrance of mental or spiritual impressions. When the Christian is beset with trials and troubles on all sides, he swerves not from the path of duty, remembering his God, and recollecting Christ's precepts and assurances!

Hope is the desire of the fulfilment of a remembered imagination; and, as we have already seen, imagination is based upon the association of remеbrances. Thus, suppose an invalid seeks change of air, in the hope of thereby becoming convalescent; he imagines that it may bring about his recovery, and this he remembers and desires. If he were to forget that he was ill, or if he were to forget that he might be better, he could not "hope" to recover. The reason of his imagining that change of air may restore him, is, because he remembers that others have ​re-established their health under similar circumstances.

Aspiration is hope in a particular form. It is the desire of the fulfilment of a remembered imagination.

Charity or kindly feeling arises from the remembrance of facts and thoughts which awaken our sympathy. Want of charity is commonly called "forgetting to make allowance" for circumstances, or for the frailty of humanity.

Humility is the remembrance of our faults and frailties, our dependent condition, our relative im-perfections, our true position.

Prayer is the expressed remembrance of facts, wants, and wishes, as an analysis of the Lord's Prayer will show.

Caution, Prudence, Forethought, and all kindred manifestations are the offspring of Memory. The remembrance of past circumstances of a painful nature makes us anxious to avoid their recurrence. A burnt child dreads the fire;" that is to say, he remembers his burning. The language of caution is, "Take care," which means, "I remember there is, or may be, danger." Memory is perpetually, though in many cases to us unconsciously, guarding us from danger, in fact, preserving us from destruction—from death. But for Memory, we should walk over precipices, drink scalding water, and seek repose beneath the upas-tree. That mighty teacher, "Experience," which "makes fools wise," and wise men wiser, is the remembrance of past past personal incidents and emotions. It is often well for us when we can profit by the experience of others. By remembering their good fortune, or misfortune, we may shape our own conduct, secure the good which they secured, and avoid the evils which they encountered. Hence the use of a boy going to school, of his being ap​prenticed to a trade, or of his being trained for a profession; hence the value of the study,—which implies the remembrance of biography, and history, and science. Man is the only being possessing the t power of bequeathing his experience to his posterity—one of his immense advantages over the brute creation. Upon this rest our powers of improvement, of progress, of aiming at perfection.

Perseverance is based upon the constant remembrance of the object we are anxious to obtain, and of the fact that continued effort is necessary, in order to secure it. If we forget our goal, we cannot strive to reach it. Many a man's prospects in life have been ruined, because, through forgetfulness, he has ceased to persevere.

The more we study this subject, the more clearly shall we see that our sentiments, our opinions, our habits, are based upon Memory. It is most interesting to try to trace their origin. Sometimes it is perplexing, sometimes impossible, but often it is practicable. Verbal Memory, which it is the present intellectual fashion to despise, has much greater influence in the formation of character than is generally supposed. A man's conduct is often shaped by the little hymns or verses which his mother taught him when a lisping, unreflecting babe; and the sudden upstarting of some text, preserved intact for years by passive Memory, has been the safeguard of many a soul. "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not," may sound as from the lips of Solomon himself, and may check a young man in his onward course, when on the verge of ruin.

Honour is based upon the remembrance of duty. Many so-called dishonourable acts result unintentionally, solely through forgetfulness, which may be afterwards bitterly but fruitlessly regretted.

​However absurd it may at first appear, yet it must be ultimately evident that even Conscience is but MEMORY! Conscience is the remembrance of that which is supposed to be right. I prefer saying "of that which is supposed to be right" to saying "of what is right," because it is quite possible for us to be conscientious, but absolutely, wrong, foolish, wicked! As this is a point upon which comparatively few appear to have correct ideas, and as a great deal of positive harm is often produced by the "conscientious" but unthinking propagation of the theory, that to act conscientiously is to act rightly, we may as well give this subject a little attention. Suppose we see, that is to say, suppose we remember that we have an opportunity of obtaining pecuniary gain by means of fraud, and with disdain we reject the thought; investigation of the mental process will recall operations of this kind:—1st idea, that is to say, first remembrance, "I have the opportunity of being dishonest." 2nd idea, that is to say, second remembrance, God says, "Thou shalt not steal." Christ says, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." This is what a Christian calls "conscience," but there are whole tribes, whole races of men who have been taught from their childhood very differently, who never heard the eighth commandment, "Thou shalt not steal;" who never heard of Christ, who never heard His precepts, but who have been trained to believe that theft and fraud are most creditable accomplishments, but that detection, as a manifestation of unskilfulness, and as the forerunner of punishment, is a great disgrace, and a thing to be avoided. And unfortunately we are not compelled to go to distant lands in order to find conscientious thieves, for in our very midst many men consider it their duty to be ​fraudulent for the benefit of themselves or of their families. Here self or family occupies the Memory to the exclusion of other and higher thoughts.

We might thus proceed with every mental manifestation, but the illustrations given are sufficient to substantiate the argument at first proposed, that much of that which we call "Mind" is Memory. We see then that Memory instead of being a comparatively mean quality of the mind—one which may be with impunity slighted, snubbed, and neglected—is, in all the comprehensiveness of the term, the basis of intelligence, the faculty upon which the other operations of the mind wholly rest, upon which they are altogether dependent. That it is not only the basis of the intellectual edifice, but that it is the chief material of its body and of its summit, without which the other faculties could not exist, and with which they are so inseparably connected, that whatever tends to dim the Memory must tend to diminish their lustre also, to mar their perfection, to stay their development, in fact, whatever weakens or injures Memory, as a part, impairs, disfigures, and stultifies the Mind as a whole! It follows then, that the development, culture, and preservation of the Memory are matters, not of secondary, but of primary importance; and deplorably destitute of Memory must he be who cannot retain mentally the facts from which we have drawn these conclusions. What shall we say to those who have depreciated, neglected, and abused Memory? O ye foolish writers in books! O ye trash-talkers on platforms O ye false teachers of youth! O ye deluders of manhood! O ye of all men most unwise, arouse, bear in Memory these facts, and try to amend all your folly!