MEMORY AND INVENTION.
Before we bestow many years of time and pains upon any object, it may
be prudent to afford a few minutes previously to ascertain its precise
value. Many persons have a vague idea of the great value of memory,
and, without analyzing their opinion, they resolve to cultivate the
memories of their children as much, and as soon, as possible. So far
from having determined the value of this talent, we shall find that it
will be difficult to give a popular definition of a good memory. Some
people call that a good memory which retains the greatest number of
ideas for the longest time. Others prefer a recollective to a
retentive memory, and value not so much the number; as the selection,
of facts; not so much the mass, or even the antiquity, of accumulated
treasure, as the power of producing current specie for immediate use.
Memory is sometimes spoken of as if it were a faculty admirable in
itself, without any union with the other powers of the mind. Amongst
those who allow that memory has no independent claim to regard, there
are yet many who believe, that a superior degree of memory is
essential to the successful exercise of the higher faculties, such as
judgment and invention. The degree in which it is useful to those
powers, has not, however, been determined. Those who are governed in
their opinions by precedent and authority, can produce many learned
names, to prove that memory was held in the highest estimation amongst
the great men of antiquity; it was cultivated with much anxiety in
their public institutions, and in their private education. But there
were many circumstances, which formerly contributed to make a great
memory essential to a great man. In civil and military employments,
amongst the ancients, it was in a high degree requisite. Generals were
expected to know by heart the names of the soldiers in their armies;
demagogues, who hoped to please the people, were expected to know the
names of all their fellow-citizens.[39] Orators, who did not speak
extempore, were obliged to get their long orations by rote. Those who
studied science or philosophy, were obliged to cultivate their memory
with incessant care, because, if they frequented the schools for
instruction, they treasured up the sayings of the masters of different
sects, and learned their doctrines only by oral instruction.
Manuscripts were frequently got by heart by those who were eager to
secure the knowledge they contained, and who had not opportunities of
recurring to the originals. It is not surprising, therefore, that
memory, to which so much was trusted, should have been held in such
high esteem.
At the revival of literature in Europe, before the discovery of the
art of printing, it was scarcely possible to make any progress in the
literature of the age, without possessing a retentive memory. A man
who had read a few manuscripts, and could repeat them, was a wonder,
and a treasure: he could travel from place to place, and live by his
learning; he was a circulating library to a nation, and the more books
he could carry in his head, the better: he was certain of an admiring
audience if he could repeat what Aristotle or Saint Jerome had
written; and he had far more encouragement to engrave the words of
others on his memory, than to invent or judge for himself.
In the twelfth century, above six hundred scholars assembled in the
forests of Champagne, to hear the lectures of the learned Abeillard;
they made themselves huts of the boughs of trees, and in this new
academic grove were satisfied to go almost without the necessaries of
life. In the specimens of Abeillard's composition, which are handed
down to us, we may discover proofs of his having been vain of a
surprising memory; it seems to have been the superior faculty of his
mind: his six hundred pupils could carry away with them only so much
of his learning as they could get by heart during his course of
lectures; and he who had the best memory, must have been best paid for
his journey.[40]
The art of printing, by multiplying copies so as to put them within
the easy reference of all classes of people, has lowered the value of
this species of retentive memory. It is better to refer to the book
itself, than to the man who has read the book. Knowledge is now ready
classed for use, and it is safely stored up in the great common-place
books of public libraries. A man of literature need not incumber his
memory with whole passages from the authors he wants to quote; he need
only mark down the page, and the words are safe.
Mere erudition does not in these days ensure permanent fame. The names
of the Abbe de Longuerue, and of the Florentine librarian Magliabechi,
excite no vivid emotions in the minds of those who have heard of them
before; and there are many, perhaps not illiterate persons, who would
not be ashamed to own that they had never heard of them at all. Yet
these men were both of them, but a few years ago, remarkable for
extraordinary memory and erudition. When M. de Longuerue was a child,
he was such a prodigy of memory and knowledge, that Lewis the
fourteenth, passing through the abbe's province, stopped to see and
hear him. When he grew up, Paris consulted him as the oracle of
learning. His erudition, says d'Alembert,[41] was not only prodigious,
but actually terrible. Greek and Hebrew were more familiar to him than
his native tongue. His memory was so well furnished with historic
facts, with chronological and topographical knowledge, that upon
hearing a person assert in conversation, that it would be a difficult
task to write a good historical description of France,[42] he
asserted, that he could do it from memory, without consulting any
books. All he asked, was, to have some maps of France laid before him:
these recalled to his mind the history of each province, of all the
fiefs of the crown of each city, and even of each distinguished
nobleman's seat in the kingdom. He wrote his folio history in a year.
It was admired as a great curiosity in manuscript; but when it came to
be printed, sundry gross errours appeared: he was obliged to take out
several leaves in correcting the press. The edition was very
expensive, and the work, at last, would have been rather more
acceptable to the public, if the author had not written it from
memory. Love of the wonderful must yield to esteem for the useful.
The effect which all this erudition had upon the Abbe de Longuerue's
taste, judgment, and imagination, is worth our attention. Some of his
opinions speak sufficiently for our purpose. He was of opinion that
the English have never done any good,[43] since they renounced the
study of Greek and Arabic, for Geometry and Physics. He was of
opinion, that two antiquarian books upon Homer, viz. _Antiquitates
Homericae_ and _Homeri Gnomologia_, are preferable to Homer himself. He
would rather have them, he declared, because with these he had all
that was useful in the poet, without being obliged to go through long
stories, which put him to sleep. "As for that madman Ariosto," said
he, "I sometimes divert myself with him." One odd volume of Racine was
the only French book to be found in his library. His erudition died
with him, and the world has not profited much by his surprising
memory.
The librarian Magliabechi was no less famous than M. de Longuerue for
his memory, and he was yet more strongly affected by the mania for
books. His appetite for them was so voracious, that he acquired the
name of the glutton of literature.[44] Before he died, he had
_swallowed_ six large rooms full of books. Whether he had time to
digest any of them we do not know, but we are sure that he wished it;
for the only line of his own composition which he has left for the
instruction of posterity, is round a medal. The medal represents him
sitting with a book in his hand, and with a great number of books
scattered on the floor round him. The candid inscription signifies,
that to become learned it is not sufficient to read much, if we read
without reflection. The names of Franklin and of Shakespeare are known
wherever literature is cultivated, to all who have any pretensions to
science or to genius; yet they were neither of them men of
extraordinary erudition, nor from their works should we judge that
memory was their predominant faculty. It may be said, that a superior
degree of memory was essential to the exercise of their judgment and
invention; that without having treasured up in his memory a variety of
minute observations upon human nature, Shakespeare could never have
painted the passions with so bold and just a hand; that if Franklin
had not accurately remembered his own philosophical observations, and
those of others, he never would have made those discoveries which have
immortalized his name. Admitting the justice of these assertions, we
see that memory to great men is but a subordinate servant, a treasurer
who receives, and is expected to keep faithfully whatever is committed
to his care; and not only to preserve faithfully all deposits, but to
produce them at the moment they are wanted. There are substances which
are said to imbibe and retain the rays of light, and to emit them only
in certain situations. As long as they retain the rays, no eye regards
them.
It has often been observed, that a recollective and retentive memory
are seldom found united. If this were true, and that we had our choice
of either, which should we prefer? For the purposes of ostentation,
perhaps the one; for utility, the other. A person who could repeat
from beginning to end the whole Economy of Human Life, which he had
learned in his childhood, might, if we had time to sit still and
listen to him, obtain our admiration for his extraordinary retentive
memory; but the person who, in daily occurrences, or interesting
affairs, recollects at the proper time what is useful to us, obtains
from our gratitude something more than vain admiration. To speak
accurately, we must remark, that retentive and recollective memories
are but relative terms: the recollective memory must be retentive of
all that it recollects; the retentive memory cannot show itself till
the moment it becomes recollective. But we value either precisely in
proportion as they are useful and agreeable.
Just at the time when philosophers were intent upon trying experiments
in electricity, Dr. Heberden recollected to have seen, many years
before, a small electrical stone, called tourmalin,[45] in the
possession of Dr. Sharpe at Cambridge. It was the only one known in
England at that time. Dr. Heberden procured it; and several curious
experiments were made and verified with it. In this instance, it is
obvious that we admire the retentive, local memory of Dr. Heberden,
merely because it became recollective and useful. Had the tourmalin
never been wanted, it would have been a matter of indifference,
whether the direction for it at Dr. Sharpe's at Cambridge, had been
remembered or forgotten. There was a man[46] who undertook, in going
from Temple Bar to the furthest part of Cheapside and back again, to
enumerate at his return every sign on each side of the way in its
order, and to repeat them, if it should be required, either backwards
or forwards. This he exactly accomplished. As a playful trial of
memory, this affords us a moments entertainment; but if we were to be
serious upon the subject, we should say it was a pity that the man did
not use his extraordinary memory for some better purpose. The late
king of Prussia, when he intended to advance Trenck in the army, upon
his first introduction, gave him a list of the strangest names which
could be picked out, to learn by rote. Trenck learned them quickly,
and the king was much pleased with this instance of his memory; but
Frederick would certainly never have made such a trial of the
abilities of Voltaire.
We cannot always foresee what facts may be useful, and what may be
useless to us, otherwise the cultivation of the memory might be
conducted by unerring rules. In the common business of life, people
regulate their memories by the circumstances in which they happen to
be placed. A clerk in a counting-house, by practice, learns to
remember the circumstances, affairs, and names of numerous merchants,
of his master's customers, the places of their abode, and, perhaps,
something of their peculiar humours and manners. A fine lady remembers
her visiting list, and, perhaps, the dresses and partners of every
couple at a crowded ball; she finds all these particulars a useful
supply for daily conversation, she therefore remembers them with
care. An amateur, who is ambitious to shine in the society of literary
men, collects literary anecdotes, and retails them whenever occasion
permits. Men of sense, who cultivate their memories for useful
purposes, are not obliged to treasure up heterogeneous facts: by
reducing particulars to general principles, and by connecting them
with proper associations, they enjoy all the real advantages, whilst
they are exempt from the labour of accumulation.
Mr. Stewart has, with so much ability, pointed out the effects of
systematic arrangement of writing, reading, and the use of technical
contrivances in the cultivation of the memory, that it would be a
presumptuous and unnecessary attempt to expatiate in other words upon
the same subject. It may not be useless, however, to repeat a few of
his observations, because, in considering what further improvement may
be made, it is always essential to have fully in our view what is
already known.
"Philosophic arrangement assists the memory, by classing under a few
principles, a number of apparently dissimilar and unconnected
particulars. The habit, for instance, of attending to the connection
of cause and effect, presents a multitude of interesting analogies to
the minds of men of science, which escape other persons; the vulgar
feel no pleasure in contemplating objects that appear remote from
common life; and they find it extremely difficult to remember
observations and reasonings which are foreign to their customary
course of associated ideas. Even literary and ingenious people, when
they begin to learn any art or science, usually complain that their
memory is not able to retain all the terms and ideas which pour in
upon them with perplexing rapidity. In time, this difficulty is
conquered, not so much by the strength of the memory, as by the
exercise of judgment: they learn to distinguish, and select the
material terms, facts and arguments, from those that are subordinate,
and they class them under general heads, to relieve the memory from
all superfluous labour.
"In all studies, there is some prevalent associating principle, which
gradually becomes familiar to our minds, but which we do not
immediately discover in our first attempts. In poetry, resemblance; in
philosophy, cause and effect; in mathematics, demonstrations
continually recur; and, therefore, each is expected by persons who
have been used to these respective studies.
"The habit of committing our knowledge to writing, assists the memory,
because, in writing, we detain certain ideas long enough in our view
to perceive all their relations; we use fixed and abbreviated signs
for all our thoughts; with the assistance of these, we can prevent
confusion in our reasonings. We can, without fatigue, by the help of
words, letters, figures, or algebraic signs, go through a variety of
mental processes, and solve many difficult problems, which, without
such assistance, must have been too extensive for our capacities.
"If our books be well chosen, and if we read with discrimination and
attention, reading will improve the memory, because, as it increases
our knowledge, it increases our interest in every new discovery, and
in every new combination of ideas."
We agree entirely with Mr. Stewart in his observations upon technical
helps to the memory; they are hurtful to the understanding, because
they break the general habits of philosophic order in the mind. There
is no connection of ideas between the memorial lines, for instance, in
Grey's Memoria Technica, the history of the Kings or Emperors, and the
dates that we wish to remember. However, it may be advantageous in
education to use such contrivances, to assist our pupils in
remembering those technical parts of knowledge, which are sometimes
valued above their worth in society.
The facts upon which the principles of any science are founded,
should never be learnt by rote in a technical manner. But the names
and the dates of the reigns of a number of kings and emperors, if they
must be remembered by children, should be learnt in the manner which
may give them the least trouble.[47]
It is commonly asserted, that our memory is to be improved by
exercise: exercise may be of different kinds, and we must determine
what sort is best. Repetition is found to fix words, and sometimes
ideas, strongly in the mind; the words of the burden of a song, which
we have frequently heard, are easily and long remembered. When we want
to get any thing by rote, we repeat it over and over again, till the
sounds seem to follow one another habitually, and then we say we have
them perfectly by rote.[48] The regular recurrence of sounds, at
stated intervals, much assists us. In poetry, the rhymes, the cadence,
the alliteration, the peculiar structure of the poet's lines, aids us.
All these are mechanical helps to the memory. Repetition seems much
more agreeable to some people than to others; but it may be doubted
whether a facility and propensity to repetition be favourable to
rational memory. Whilst we repeat, we exclude all thought from the
mind; we form a habit of saying certain sounds in a certain order; but
if this habit be afterwards broken by any trifling external
circumstances, we lose all our labour. We have no means of
recollecting what we have learned in this manner. Once gone, it is
gone for ever. It depends but upon one principle of association. Those
who exert ingenuity as well as memory in learning by heart, may not,
perhaps, associate sounds with so much expedition, but they will have
the power of recollection in a greater degree. They will have more
chances in their favour, besides the great power of voluntary
exertion: a power which few passive repeaters ever possess. The
following lines are easily learned:
"Haste, then, ye spirits; to your charge repair,
The fluttering fan be Zephyretta's care;
The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign,
And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine;
Do thou, Crispissa, tend her favourite lock,
Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock."
To a person who merely learned the sounds in these lines by rote,
without knowing the sense of the words, all the advantage of the
appropriated names and offices of the sylphs would be lost. No one,
who has any sense of propriety, can call these sylphs by wrong names,
or put them out of their places. Momentilla and the watch, Zephyretta
and the fan, Crispissa and the lock of hair, Brillante and the diamond
drops, are so intimately associated, that they necessarily recur
together in the memory. The following celebrated lines on envy, some
people will find easy, and others difficult, to learn by heart:
"Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue;
But, like a shadow, proves the substance true:
For envy'd wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known
Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own.
When first that sun too pow'rful beams displays,
It draws up vapour, which obscures its rays;
But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way,
Reflect new glories, and augment the day."
The flow of these lines is not particularly easy; those who trust
merely to the power of reiteration in getting them by rote, will find
the task difficult; those who seize the ideas, will necessarily
recollect their order, and the sense will conduct them to their proper
places with certainty: they cannot, for instance, make the clouds
adorn the sun's rays before the sun's powerful beams have drawn up the
vapours. This fixes the place of the four last lines. The simile of
merit and the sun, and envy and the clouds, keeps each idea in its
order; if any one escapes, it is easily missed, and easily recalled.
We seldom meet with those who can give us an accurate account of their
own thoughts; it is, therefore, difficult to tell the different ways
in which different people manage their memory. We judge by the effects
frequently, that causes are the same, which sometimes are entirely
different. Thus we, in common conversation, should say, that two
people had an equally good memory, who could repeat with equal
exactness any thing which they had heard or read. But in their methods
of remembering, these persons might differ essentially; the one might
have exerted much more judgment and ingenuity in the conduct of his
memory than the other, and might thus have not only fatigued himself
less, but might have improved his understanding, whilst the other
learned merely by rote. When Dr. Johnson reported the parliamentary
debates for the gentleman's Magazine, his judgment, his habit of
attending to the order in which ideas follow one another in reasoning,
his previous knowledge of the characters and style of the different
speakers, must considerably have assisted his memory. His taste for
literary composition must have shown him instantly where any argument
or allusion was misplaced. A connecting phrase, or a link in a chain
of reasoning, is missed as readily by a person used to writing and
argument, as a word in a line of poetry is missed by a poetic ear. If
any thing has escaped the memory of persons who remember by general
classification, they are not only by their art able to discover that
something is missing, but they have a general direction where to find
it; they know to what class of ideas it must belong; they can hunt
from generals to particulars, till they are sure at last of tracing
and detecting the deserter; they have certain signs by which they know
the object of which they are in search, and they trust with more
certainty to these characteristics, than to the mere vague
recollection of having seen it before. We feel disposed to trust the
memory of those who can give us some reason for what they remember. If
they can prove to us that their assertion could not, consistently with
other facts, be false, we admit the assertion into the rank of facts,
and their judgment thus goes surety for their memory.
The following advertisement (taken from the star of the 21st
September, 1796) may show that experience justifies these theoretic
notions:
"Literature.
"A gentleman capable of reporting the debates in parliament, is
wanted for a London newspaper. A business of no such great
difficulty as is generally imagined by those unacquainted with it.
A _tolerable_ good style and facility of composition, as well as a
facility of writing, together with a good memory (_not an
extraordinary one_) are all the necessary requisites. If a
gentleman writes short hand, it is an advantage; but memory and
composition are more important.
"The advertiser, conceiving that many gentlemen either in London or
at the Universities, or in other parts of the kingdom, may think
such a situation desirable, takes this public method of enabling
them to obtain it. The salary, which will vary according to the
talents of the reporter, will at least afford a genteel
subsistence, and the business need not interrupt the pursuit of
studies necessary for a more important profession. _A gentleman who
has never tried parliamentary reporting, will be preferred by the
advertiser, because he has observed, that those who have last
attempted it, are now the best reporters._"
In the common mode of education, great exactness of repetition is
required from pupils. This seems to be made a matter of too much
importance. There are circumstances in life, in which this talent is
useful, but its utility, perhaps, we shall find, upon examination, is
over-rated.
In giving evidence of words, dates, and facts, in a court of justice,
the utmost precision is requisite. The property, lives, and characters
of individuals depend upon this precision.
But we must observe, that after long detailed evidence has been given
by a number of witnesses, an advocate separates the material from the
immaterial circumstances, and the judge in his charge again compresses
the arguments of the counsel, so that much of what has been said
during the trial, might as well have been omitted. All these
superfluous ideas were _remembered_ to no purpose. An evidence
sometimes, if he be permitted, would tell not only all that he
remembers of the circumstances about which he is examined, but also a
number of other circumstances, which are casually associated with
these in his memory. An able advocate rejects, by a quickness of
judgment which appears like intuition, all that is irrelevant to his
argument and his cause; and it is by this selection that _his_ memory,
in the evidence, perhaps, of twenty different people, is able to
retain all that is useful. When this heterogeneous mass of evidence is
classed by his perspicuous arrangement, his audience feel no
difficulty either in understanding or recollecting all which had
before appeared confused. Thus the exercise of the judgment saves much
of the labour of memory; labour which is not merely unnecessary, but
hurtful, to our understanding.
In making observations upon subjects which are new to us, we must be
content to use our memory unassisted at first by our reason; we must
treasure up the ore and rubbish together, because we cannot
immediately distinguish them from each other. But the sooner we can
separate them, the better. In the beginning of all experimental
sciences, a number of useless particulars are recorded, because they
are not known to be useless; when, from comparing these, a few general
principles are discovered, the memory is immediately relieved, the
judgment and inventive faculty have power and liberty to work, and
then a rapid progress and great discoveries are made. It is the
misfortune of those who first cultivate new sciences, that their
memory is overloaded; but if those who succeed to them, submit to the
same senseless drudgery, it is not their misfortune, but their fault.
Let us look over the history of those who have made discoveries and
inventions, we shall perceive, that it has been by rejecting useless
ideas that they have first cleared their way to truth. Dr. Priestley's
Histories of Vision and of Electricity, are as useful when we consider
them as histories of the human mind, as when we read them as histories
of science. Dr. Priestley has published a catalogue of books,[49] from
which he gathered his materials. The pains, he tells us, that it cost
him to compress and abridge the accounts which ingenious men have
given of their own experiments, teach us how much our progress in real
knowledge depends upon rejecting all that is superfluous. When
Simonides offered to teach Themistocles the art of memory,
Themistocles answered, "Rather teach me the art of forgetting; for I
find that I remember much that I had better forget, and forget"
(_consequently_) "some things which I wish to remember."
When any discovery or invention is completed, we are frequently
astonished at its obvious simplicity. The ideas necessary to the
discovery, are seldom so numerous as to fatigue our memory. Memory
seems to have been useful to inventors only as it presented a few
ideas in a certain happy connection, as it presented them faithfully
and distinctly to view in the proper moment. If we wish for examples
of _the conduct of_ the understanding, we need only look into Dr.
Franklin's works. He is so free from all affectation, he lays his mind
so fairly before us, that he is, perhaps, the best example we can
select. Those who are used to look at objects in a microscope, say,
that full as much depends upon the object's being well prepared for
inspection, as upon the attention of the observer, or the excellence
of the glass.
The first thing that strikes us, in looking over Doctor Franklin's
works, is the variety of his observations upon different subjects. We
might imagine, that a very tenacious and powerful memory was
necessary to register all these; but Dr. Franklin informs us, that it
was his constant practice to note down every hint as it occurred to
him: he urges his friends to do the same; he observes, that there is
scarcely a day passes without our hearing or seeing something which,
if properly attended to, might lead to useful discoveries. By thus
committing his ideas to writing, his mind was left at liberty _to
think_. No extraordinary effort of memory was, even upon the greatest
occasions, requisite. A friend wrote to him to inquire how he was led
to his great discovery of the identity of lightning and electricity;
and how he first came to think of drawing down lightning from the
clouds. Dr. Franklin replies, that he could not answer better than by
giving an extract from the minutes he used to keep of the experiments
he made, with memorandums of such as he purposed to make, the reasons
for making them, and the observations that rose upon them. By this
extract, says Dr. Franklin, you will see that the thought was not so
much _an out of the way one_, but that it might have occurred to any
electrician.[50]
When the ideas are arranged in clear order, as we see them in this
note, the analogy or induction to which Dr. Franklin was led, appears
easy. Why, then, had it never been made by any other person? Numbers
of ingenious men were at this time intent upon electricity. The ideas
which were necessary to this discovery, were not numerous or
complicated. We may remark, that one analogy connecting these
observations together, they are more easily recollected; and their
being written down for a particular purpose, on which Dr. Franklin's
mind was intent, must have made it still easier to him to retain them.
The degree of memory he was forced to employ, is thus reduced to a
portion in which few people are defective. Now, let us suppose, that
Dr. Franklin, at the time he wrote his memorandum, had fully in his
recollection every previous experiment that had ever been tried on
electricity; and not only these, but the theories, names, ages, and
private history, of all the men who had tried these experiments; of
what advantage would this have been to him? He must have excluded all
these impertinent ideas successively as they rose before him, and he
must have selected the fifteen useful observations, which we have
mentioned, from this troublesome multitude. The chance in such a
selection would have been against him; the time employed in the
examination and rejection of all the unnecessary recollections, would
have been absolutely wasted.
We must wish that it were in our power, when we make observations upon
nature, or when we read the reflections of others, to arrange our
thoughts so as to be ready when we want to reason or invent. When
cards are dealt to us, we can sort our hand according to the known
probabilities of the game, and a new arrangement is easily made when
we hear what is trumps.
In collecting and sorting observations, Dr. Franklin particularly
excelled; therefore we may safely continue to take him for our
example. Wherever he happened to be, in a boat, in a mine, in a
printer's shop, in a crowded city, or in the country, in Europe or
America, he displays the same activity of observation. When any thing,
however trifling, struck him which he could not account for, he never
rested till he had traced the effect to its cause. Thus, after having
made one remark, he had fresh motive to collect facts, either to
confirm or refute an hypothesis; his observations tending consequently
to some determinate purpose, they were arranged in the moment they
were made, in the most commodious manner, both for his memory and
invention; they were arranged either according to their obvious
analogies, or their relation to each other as cause and effect. He had
two useful methods of judging of the value of his own ideas; he either
considered how they could be immediately applied to practical
improvements in the arts, or how they could lead to the solution of
any of the great problems in science. Here we must again observe, that
judgment saved the labour of memory. A person, who sets about to
collect facts at random, is little better than a magpie, who picks up
and lays by any odd bits of money he can light upon, without knowing
their use.
Miscellaneous observations, which are made by those who have no
philosophy, may accidentally lead to something useful; but here we
admire the good fortune, and not the genius, of the individuals who
make such discoveries: these are prizes drawn from the lottery of
science, which ought not to seduce us from the paths of sober
industry. How long may an observation, fortunately made, continue to
be useless to mankind, merely because it has not been reasoned upon!
The trifling observation, that a straight stick appears bent in water,
was made many hundred years before the reason of that appearance was
discovered! The invention of the telescope might have been made by any
person who could have pursued this slight observation through all its
consequences.
Having now defined, or rather described, what we mean by _a good
memory_, we may consider how the memory should be cultivated. In
children, as well as in men, the strength of that habit, or perhaps of
that power of the mind which associates ideas together, varies
considerably. It is probable, that this difference may depend
sometimes upon organization. A child who is born with any defect in
his eyes, cannot possibly have the same pleasure in objects of sight,
which those enjoy who have strong eyes: ideas associated with these
external objects, are, therefore, not associated with pleasure, and,
consequently, they are not recollected with any sensations of
pleasure. An ingenious writer[51] supposes, that all the difference of
capacity amongst men ultimately depends on their original power of
feeling pleasure or pain, and their consequent different habits of
attention.
When there is any defect in a child's organization, we must have
recourse to physics, and not to metaphysics; but even among children,
who are apparently in the full possession of all their senses, we see
very different degrees of vivacity: those who have most vivacity,
seldom take delight in repeating their ideas; they are more pleased
with novelty than prone to habit. Those children who are deficient in
vivacity, are much disposed to the easy indolent pleasure of
repetition; it costs them less exertion to say or do the same thing
over again, than to attempt any thing new; they are uniformly good
subjects to habit, because novelty has no charms to seduce their
attention.
The education of the memory in these two classes of children, ought
not to be the same. Those who are disposed to repetition, should not
be indulged in it, because it will increase their indolence; they
should be excited by praise, by example, by sympathy, and by all the
strongest motives that we can employ. Their interest in every thing
around them must by all means be increased: when they show eagerness
about any thing, no matter what it is, we may then exercise their
memory upon that subject with some hopes of success. It is of
importance that they should succeed in their first trials, otherwise
they will be discouraged from repeating their attempts, and they will
distrust their own memory in future. The fear of not remembering,
will occupy, and agitate, and weaken their minds; they should,
therefore, be animated by hope. If they fail, at all events let them
not be reproached; the mortification they naturally feel, is
sufficient: nor should they be left to dwell upon their
disappointment; they should have a fresh and easier trial given to
them, that they may recover their own self-complacency as
expeditiously as possible. It may be said, that there are children of
such a sluggish temperament, that they feel no pleasure in success,
and no mortification in perceiving their own mental deficiencies.
There are few children of this description; scarcely any, perhaps,
whose defects have not been increased by education. Exertion has been
made so painful to them, that at length they have sunk into apathy, or
submitted in despair to the eternal punishment of shame.
The mistaken notion, that the memory must be exercised only in books,
has been often fatal to the pupils of literary people. We remember
best those things which interest us most; which are useful to us in
conversation; in our daily business or amusement. So do children. On
these things we should exercise their memory. Tell a boy who has lost
his top, to remember at such a particular time to put you in mind of
it, and if he does, that you will give him another, he will probably
remember your requests after this, better than you will yourself.
Affectionate children will easily extend their recollective memories
in the service of their friends and companions. "Put me in mind to
give your friend what he asked for, and I will give it to him if you
remember it at the right time." It will be best to manage these
affairs so that convenience, and not caprice, shall appear to be your
motive for the requests. The time and place should be precisely fixed,
and something should be chosen which is likely to recall your request
at the appointed time. If you say, put me in mind of such a thing the
moment the cloth is taken away after dinner; or as soon as candles are
brought into the room; or when I go by such a shop in our walk this
evening; here are things mentioned which will much assist the young
remembrancer: the moment the cloth is taken away, or the candles come,
he will recollect, from association, that something is to be done,
that _he_ has something to do; and presently he will make out what
that something is.
A good memory for business depends upon local, well arranged
associations. The man of business makes an artificial memory for
himself out of the trivial occurrences of the day, and the hours as
they pass recall their respective occupations. Children can acquire
these habits very early in their education; they are eager to give
their companions an account of any thing they have seen or heard;
their tutors should become their companions, and encourage them by
sympathy to address these narrations to them. Children who forget
their lessons in chronology, and their pence tables, can relate with
perfect accuracy any circumstances which have interested themselves.
This shows that there is no deficiency in their capacity. Every one,
who has had any experience of the pleasure of talking, knows how
intimately it is connected with the pleasure of being listened to. The
auditors, consequently, possess supreme power over narrative
childhood, without using any artifice, by simply showing attention to
well arranged, and well recollected narratives, and ceasing to attend
when the young orator's memory and story become confused, he will
naturally be excited to arrange his ideas. The order of _time_ is the
first and easiest principle of association to help the memory. This,
till young people acquire the ideas of cause and effect, will be their
favourite mode of arrangement. Things that happen at the same time;
things that are said, thoughts that have occurred, at the same time,
will recur to the mind together. We may observe, that ill educated
people continue through life to remember things by this single
association; and, consequently, there is a heterogeneous collection of
ideas in their mind, which have no rational connection with each
other; crowds which have accidentally met, and are forced to live for
ever together.
A vulgar evidence, when he is examined about his memory of a
particular fact, gives as a reason for his remembering it, a relation
of a number of other circumstances, which he tells you happened at the
same time; or he calls to witness any animate or inanimate objects,
which he happened to see at the same time. All these things are so
joined with the principal fact in his mind, that his remembering them
distinctly, seems to him, and he expects will seem to others,
demonstration of the truth and accuracy of his principal assertion.
When a lawyer tells him he has nothing to do with these ideas, he is
immediately at a stand in his narrative; he can recollect nothing, he
is sure of nothing; he has no reason to give for his belief, unless he
may say that it was Michaelmas-day when such a thing happened, that he
had a goose for dinner that day, or that he had a new wig. Those who
have more enlarged minds, seldom produce these strange reasons for
remembering facts. Indeed, no one can reason clearly, whose memory has
these foolish habits; the ill matched ideas are inseparably joined,
and hence they imagine there is some natural connection between them.
Hence arise those obstinate prejudices which no arguments can
vanquish.
To prevent children from arguing ill, we must, therefore, take care,
in exercising their memory, to discourage them in this method of
proving that they remember one thing by telling us a number of others
which happened at the same time; rather let them be excited to bring
their reasoning faculty into play in support of their memory. Suppose,
for instance, that a child had mislaid his hat, and was trying to
recollect where he had put it. He first may recollect, from the
association of time, that he had the hat the last time he went out;
but when he wants to recollect when that time was, he had better go
back, if he can, to his motive for going out; this one idea will bring
a number of others in right order into his mind. He went out,
suppose, to fetch his kite, which he was afraid would be wet by a
shower of rain; then the boy recollects that his hat must have been
wet by the same rain, and that when he came in, instead of hanging it
up in its usual place, it was put before the fire to be dried. What
fire, is the next question, &c.
Such an instance as this may appear very trivial; but children whose
minds are well managed about trifles, will retain good habits when
they are to think about matters of consequence. By exercising the
memory in this manner about things, instead of about books and
lessons, we shall not disgust and tire our pupils, nor shall we give
the false notion, that all knowledge is acquired by reading.
Long before children read fluently for their own amusement, they like
to hear others read aloud to them, because they have then the
entertainment without the labour. We may exercise their memory by
asking for an account of what they have heard. But let them never be
required to repeat in the words of the book, or even to preserve the
same arrangement; let them speak in words of their own, and arrange
their ideas to their own plan; this will exercise at once their
judgment, invention, and memory.
"Try if you can explain to me what I have just been explaining to
you," a sensible tutor will frequently say to his pupils; and he will
suffer them to explain in a different manner from himself; he will
only require them to remember what is essential to the explanation. In
such repetitions as these, the mind is active, therefore it will
strengthen and improve.
Children are all, more or less, pleased with the perception of
resemblances and of analogy. This propensity assists us much in the
cultivation of the memory; but it must be managed with discretion, or
it will injure the other powers of the understanding. There is, in
some minds, a futile love of tracing analogies, which leads to
superstition, to false reasoning, and false taste. The quick
perception of resemblances is, in other minds, productive of wit,
poetic genius, and scientific invention. The difference between these
two classes, depends upon this--the one has more judgment, and more
the habit of using it, than the other. Children who are pleased by
trifling coincidences, by allusions, and similitudes, should be taught
with great care to reason: when once they perceive the pleasure of
demonstration, they will not be contented with the inaccuracy of
common analogies. A tutor is often tempted to teach pupils, who are
fond of allusions, by means of them, because he finds that they
remember well whatever suits their taste for resemblances. By
following the real analogies between different arts and sciences, and
making use of the knowledge children have on one subject to illustrate
another, we may at once amuse their fancy, and cultivate their memory
with advantage. Ideas laid up in this manner, will recur in the same
order, and will be ready for further use. When two ideas are
remembered by their mutual connection, surely it is best that they
should both of them be substantially useful; and not that one should
attend merely to answer for the appearance of the other.
As men readily remember those things which are every day useful to
them in business, what relates to their amusements, or to their
favourite tastes in arts, sciences, or in literature; so children find
no difficulty in remembering every thing which mixes daily with their
little pleasures. They value knowledge, which is _useful_ and
_agreeable_ to them, as highly as we do; but they consider only the
present, and we take the future into our estimate. Children feel no
interest in half the things that are committed, with the most solemn
recommendations, to the care of their memory. It is in vain to tell
them, "You must remember _such a thing_, because it will be useful to
you when you grow up to be a man." The child feels like a child, and
has no idea of what he may feel when he grows up to be a man. He
tries to remember what he is desired, perhaps, because he wishes to
please his wiser friends; but if the ideas are remote from his every
day business, if nothing recall them but voluntary exertion, and if he
be obliged to abstract his little soul from every thing it holds dear,
before he can recollect his lessons, they will have no hold upon his
memory; he will feel that recollection is too operose, and he will
enjoy none of the "pleasures of memory."
To induce children to exercise their memory, we must put them in
situations where they may be immediately rewarded for their exertion.
We must create an interest in their minds--nothing uninteresting is
long remembered. In a large and literary family, it will not be
difficult to invent occupations for children which may exercise all
their faculties. Even the conversation of such a family, will create
in their minds a desire for knowledge; what they hear, will recall to
their memory what they read; and if they are encouraged to take a
reasonable share in conversation, they will acquire the habit of
listening to every thing that others say. By permitting children to
talk freely of what they read, we are more likely to improve their
memory for books, than by exacting from them formal repetitions of
lessons.
Dr. Johnson, who is said to have had an uncommonly good memory, tells
us, that when he was a boy, he used, after he had acquired any fresh
knowledge from his books, to run and tell it to an old woman, of whom
he was very fond. This exercise was so agreeable to him, that it
imprinted what he read upon his memory.
La Gaucherie, one of the preceptors of Henry IV. having found that he
had to do with a young prince of an impatient mind, and active genius,
little suited to sedentary studies, instead of compelling his pupil to
read, taught him by means of conversation: anecdotes of heroes, and
the wise sayings of ancient philosophers, were thus imprinted upon the
mind of this prince. It is said, that Henry IV. applied, in his
subsequent life, all the knowledge he had acquired in this manner so
happily, that learned men were surprised at his memory.[52]
By these observations, we by no means would insinuate, that
application to books is unnecessary. We are sensible that accurate
knowledge upon any subject, cannot be acquired by superficial
conversation; that it can be obtained only by patient application. But
we mean to point out, that an early taste for literature may be
excited in children by conversation; and that their memory should be
first cultivated in the manner which will give them the least pain.
When there is motive for application, and when habits of industry have
been gradually acquired, we may securely trust, that our pupils will
complete their own education. Nor should we have reason to fear, that
those who have a good memory for all other things, should not be able
to retain all that is worth remembering in books. Children should
never be praised for merely remembering exactly what they read, they
should be praised for selecting with good sense what is best worth
their attention, and for applying what they remember to useful
purposes.
We have observed how much the habit of inventing increases the wish
for knowledge, and increases the interest men take in a number of
ideas, which are indifferent to uncultivated and indolent people. It
is the same with children. Children who invent, exercise their memory
with pleasure, from the immediate sense of utility and success. A
piece of knowledge, which they lay by in their minds, with the hopes
of making use of it in some future invention, they have more motives
for remembering, than what they merely learn by rote, because they are
commanded to do so by the voice of authority.
(June 19th, 1796.) S----, a boy of nine years old, of good abilities,
was translating Ovid's description of envy. When he came to the Latin
word _suffusa_, he pronounced it as if it had been spelled with a
single _f_ and a double _s_, _sufussa_; he made the same mistake
several times: at last his father, to _try_ whether it would make him
remember the right pronunciation, desired him to repeat _suffusa_
forty times. The boy did so. About three hours afterwards, the boy was
asked whether he recollected the word which he had repeated forty
times. No, he said, he did not; but he remembered that it meant
diffused. His father recalled the word to his mind, by asking him what
letter it was that he had sounded as if it had been a double letter;
he said _s_. And what double letter did you sound as if it had been
single? _f_, said the boy. Then, said his father, you have found out
that it was a word in which there was a double _ff_ and a single _s_,
and that it is the Latin for _diffused_. Oh, suffusa, said the boy.
This boy, who had such difficulty in learning a single Latin word, by
repeating it forty times, showed in other instances, that he was by no
means deficient in recollective memory. On the contrary, though he
read very little, and seldom learned any thing by rote, he applied
happily any thing that he read or heard in conversation.
(March 31st, 1796.) His father told him, that he had this morning seen
a large horn at a gentleman's in the neighbourhood. It was found
thirty spades depth below the surface of the earth, in a bog. With the
horn was found a carpet, and wrapped up in the carpet a lump of
tallow. "Now," said his father, "how could that lump of tallow come
there? Or was it tallow, do you think? Or what could it be?"
H---- (a boy of 14, brother to S----) said, he thought it might have
been buried by some robbers, after they had committed some robbery; he
thought the lump was tallow.
S---- said, "Perhaps some dead body might have been wrapped up in the
carpet and buried; and the dead body might have turned into
tallow."[53]
"How came you," said his father, "to think of a dead body's turning
into tallow?"
"You told me," said the boy, "You read to me, I mean, an account of
some dead bodies that had been buried a great many years, which had
turned into tallow."
"Spermaceti," you mean? "Yes."
S---- had heard the account he alluded to above two months before this
time. No one in company recollected it except himself, though several
had heard it.
Amongst the few things which S---- had learnt by heart, was the Hymn
to Adversity. A very slight circumstance may show, that he did not get
this poem merely as a tiresome lesson, as children sometimes learn by
rote what they do not understand, and which they never recollect
except in the arduous moments of formal repetition.
A few days after S---- had learned the Hymn to Adversity, he happened
to hear his sister say to a lady, "I observed you pitied me for having
had a whitlow on my finger, more than any body else did, because you
have had one yourself." S----'s father asked him why he smiled.
"Because," said S----, "I was thinking of the _song_,[54] the _hymn_
to adversity;
"And from her own she learned to melt at other's wo."
A recollective memory of books appears early in children who are not
overwhelmed with them; if the impressions made upon their minds be
distinct, they will recur with pleasure to the memory when similar
ideas are presented.
July 1796. S---- heard his father read Sir Brook Boothby's excellent
epitaph upon Algernon Sidney; the following lines pleased the boy
particularly:
"Approach, contemplate this immortal name,
Swear on this shrine to emulate his fame;
To dare, like him, e'en to thy latest breath,
Contemning chains, and poverty, and death."
S----'s father asked him why he liked these lines, and whether they
put him in mind of any thing that he had heard before. S---- said, "It
puts me in mind of Hamilcar's making his son Hannibal swear to hate
the Romans, and love his countrymen eternally. But I like _this_ much
better. I think it was exceedingly foolish and wrong of Hamilcar to
make his son swear always to hate the Romans."
Latin lessons are usually so very disagreeable to boys, that they
seldom are pleased with any allusions to them; but by a good
management in a tutor, even these lessons may be associated with
agreeable ideas. Boys should be encouraged to talk and think about
what they learn in Latin, as well as what they read in English; they
should be allowed to judge of the characters described in ancient
authors, to compare them with our present ideas of excellence, and
thus to make some use of their learning. It will then be not merely
engraved upon their memory in the form of lessons, it will be mingled
with their notions of life and manners; it will occur to them when
they converse, and when they act; they will possess the admired talent
for classical allusion, as well as all the solid advantages of an
unprejudiced judgment. It is not enough that gentlemen should be
masters of the learned languages, they must know how to produce their
knowledge without pedantry or affectation. The memory may in vain be
stored with classical precedents, unless these can be brought into use
in speaking or writing without the parade of dull citation, or formal
introduction. "Sir," said Dr. Johnson, to some prosing tormentor, "I
would rather a man would knock me down, than to begin to talk to me of
the Punic wars." A public speaker, who rises in the House of Commons,
with pedantry prepense to quote Latin or Greek, is coughed or laughed
down; but the beautiful unpremeditated classical allusions of Burke or
Sheridan, sometimes conveyed in a single word, seize the imagination
irresistibly.
Since we perceive, that memory is chiefly useful as it furnishes
materials for invention, and that invention can greatly abridge the
mere labour of accumulation, we must examine how the inventive faculty
can be properly exercised. The vague precept of, cultivate the memory
and invention of young people at the same time, will not inform
parents how this is to be accomplished; we trust, therefore, that we
may be permitted, contrary to the custom of didactic writers, to
illustrate a general precept by a few examples; and we take these
examples from real life, because we apprehend, that fictions, however
ingenious, will never advance the science of education so much as
simple experiments.
No elaborate theory of invention shall here alarm parents. It is a
mistake, to suppose that the inventive faculty can be employed only on
important subjects; it can be exercised in the most trifling
circumstances of domestic life. Scarcely any family can be so
unfortunately situated, that they may not employ the ingenuity of
their children without violent exertion, or any grand apparatus. Let
us only make use of the circumstances which happen every hour.
Children are interested in every thing that is going forward.
Building, or planting, or conversation, or reading; they attend to
every thing, and from every thing might they with a little assistance
obtain instruction. Let their useful curiosity be encouraged; let them
make a part of the general society of the family, instead of being
treated as if they had neither senses nor understanding. When any
thing is to be done, let them be asked to invent the best way of doing
it. When they see that their invention becomes immediately useful,
they will take pleasure in exerting themselves.
June 4th, 1796. A lady, who had been ruling pencil lines for a
considerable time, complained of its being a tiresome operation; and
she wished that a quick and easy way of doing it could be invented.
Somebody present said they had seen pens for ruling music books, which
ruled four lines at a time; and it was asked, whether a leaden rake
could not be made to rule a sheet of paper at once.
Mr. ---- said, that he thought such a pencil would not rule well; and
he called to S----, (the same boy we mentioned before) and asked him
if he could invent any method of doing the business better. S---- took
about a quarter of an hour to consider; and he then described a little
machine for ruling a sheet of paper at a single stroke, which his
father had executed for him. It succeeded well, and this success was
the best reward he could have.
Another day Mr. ---- observed, that the maid, whose business it was to
empty a bucket of ashes into an ash-hole, never could be persuaded to
do it, because the ashes were blown against her face by the wind; and
he determined to invent a method which should make it convenient to
her to do as she was desired. The maid usually threw the ashes into a
heap on the sheltered side of a wall; the thing to be done was, to
make her put the bucket through a hole in this wall, and empty the
ashes on the other side. This problem was given to all the children
and grown up persons in the family. One of the children invented the
shelf, which, they said, should be like part of the vane of a
winnowing machine which they had lately seen; the manner of placing
this vane, another of the children suggested: both these ideas joined
together, produced the contrivance which was wanted.
A little model was made in wood of this bucket, which was a pretty
toy. The thing itself was executed, and was found useful.
June 8th, 1796. Mr. ---- was balancing a pair of scales very exactly,
in which he was going to weigh some opium; this led to a conversation
upon scales and weighing. Some one said that the dealers in diamonds
must have very exact scales, as the difference of a grain makes such a
great difference in their value. S---- was very attentive to this
conversation. M----told him, that jewellers always, if they can, buy
diamonds when the air is light, and sell them when it is heavy. S----
did not understand the reason of this, till his father explained to
him the general principles of hydrostatics, and showed him a few
experiments with bodies of different specific gravity: these
experiments were distinctly understood by every body present. The boy
then observed, that it was not fair of the jewellers to buy and sell
in this manner; they should not, said he, use _these_ weights.
Diamonds should be the weights. Diamonds should be weighed against
diamonds.
November, 1795. One day after dinner, the candles had been left for
some time without being snuffed; and Mr. ---- said he wished candles
could be made which would not require snuffing.
Mrs. ******** thought of cutting the wick into several pieces before
it was put into the candle, that so, when it burned down to the
divisions, the wick might fall off. M---- thought that the wick might
be tied tight round at intervals, before it was put into the candle;
that when it burned down to the places where it was tied, it would
snap off: but Mr. ---- objected, that the candle would most likely go
out when it had burned down to her knots. It was then proposed to send
a stream of oxygene through the candle, instead of a wick. M---- asked
if some substance might not be used for wicks which should burn into
powder, and fly off or sublime. Mr. ---- smiled at this, and said,
"_Some substance_; some _kind of air_; some _chemical mixture_! A
person ignorant of chemistry always talks of, as an ignorant person in
mechanics always says, "Oh, you can do it somehow with _a spring_."
As the company could not immediately discover any way of making
candles which should not require to be snuffed, they proceeded to
invent ways of putting out a candle at a certain time without hands.
The younger part of the company had hopes of solving this problem, and
every eye was attentively fixed upon the candle.
"How would you put it out, S----?" said Mr. ----. S---- said, that if
a weight, a very little lighter than the extinguisher, were tied to a
string, and if the string were put over a pulley, and if _the_
extinguisher were tied to the other end of the string, and the candle
put exactly under the extinguisher; the extinguisher would move very,
very gently down, and at last put out the candle.
Mr. ---- observed, that whilst it was putting out the candle, there
would be a disagreeable smell, because the extinguisher would be a
considerable time moving _very, very gently down_, over the candle
after the candle had begun to go out.
C---- (a girl of twelve years old) spoke next. "I would tie an
extinguisher to one end of a thread. I would put this string through a
pulley fastened to the ceiling; the other end of this string should be
fastened to the middle of another thread, which should be strained
between two posts set upright on each side of the candle, so as that
the latter string might lean against the candle at any distance you
want below the flame. When the candle burns down to this string, it
will burn it in two, and the extinguisher will drop upon the candle."
This is the exact description of _the weaver's alarm_, mentioned in
the Philosophical Transactions which C---- had never seen or heard of.
Mr. ---- now showed us the patent extinguisher, which was much
approved of by all the rival inventors.
It is very useful to give children problems which have already been
solved, because they can immediately compare their own imperfect ideas
with successful inventions, which have actually been brought into real
use. We know beforehand what ideas are necessary to complete the
invention, and whether the pupil has all the necessary knowledge.
Though by the courtesy of poetry, a creative power is ascribed to
inventive genius, yet we must be convinced that no genius can invent
without materials. Nothing can come of nothing. Invention is nothing
more than the new combination of materials. We must judge in general
of the ease or difficulty of any invention, either by the number of
ideas necessary to be combined, or by the dissimilarity or analogy of
those ideas. In giving any problem to children, we should not only
consider whether they know all that is necessary upon the subject, but
also, whether that knowledge is sufficiently _familiar_ to their
minds, whether circumstances are likely to recall it, and whether they
have a perfectly Clear idea of the thing to be done. By considering
all these particulars, we may pretty nearly proportion our questions
to the capacity of the pupil; and we may lead his mind on step by step
from obvious to intricate inventions.
July 30th, 1796. L----, who had just returned from Edinburgh, and had
taken down in two large volumes, Dr. Black's Lectures, used to read to
us part of them, for about a quarter of an hour, every morning after
breakfast. He was frequently interrupted (which interruptions he bore
with heroic patience) by Mr. ----'s explanations and comments. When he
came to the expansive power of steam, and to the description of the
different steam engines which have been invented, Mr. ---- stopped to
ask B----, C----, and S----, to describe the steam engine in their own
words. They all described it in such a manner as to show that they
clearly understood the principle of the machine. Only the general
principle had been explained to them. L----, after having read the
description of Savary's and Newcomen's steam engines, was beginning to
read the description of that invented by Mr. Watt; but Mr. ----
stopped him, that he might try whether any person present could invent
it. Mr. E---- thus stated the difficulty: "In the old steam engine,
cold water, you know, is thrown into the cylinder to condense the
steam; but in condensing the steam, the cold water at the same time
cools the cylinder. Now the cylinder must be heated again, before it
can be filled with steam; for till it is heated, it will condense the
steam. There is, consequently, a great waste of heat and fuel in the
great cylinder. How can you condense the steam without cooling the
cylinder?"
S----. "Let down a cold tin tube into the cylinder when you want to
condense the steam, and draw it up again as soon as the steam is
condensed; or, if you could put a _cylinder_ of ice up the great
tube."
Some of the company next asked, if an horizontal plate of cold metal,
made to slide up the inside of the cylinder, would condense the steam.
The edges of the plate only would touch the cylinder; the surface of
the plate might condense the steam.
"But," said Mr. ----"how can you introduce and withdraw it?"
C---- (a girl of 12) then said, "I would put a cold vessel to condense
the steam at the top of the cylinder."
Mr. ----. "So as to touch the cylinder, do you mean?"
C----. "No, not so as to touch the cylinder, but at some distance from
it."
Mr. ----. "Then the cold air would rush into the cylinder whilst the
steam was passing from the cylinder to your condenser."
C----. "But I would cover in the cold vessel, and I would cover in the
passage to it."
Mr. ----. "I have the pleasure of informing you, that you have
invented part of the great Mr. Watt's improvement on the steam engine.
You see how it facilitates invention, to begin by stating the
difficulty clearly to the mind. This is what every practical inventor
does when he invents in mechanics."
L---- (smiling.) "And what _I_ always do in inventing a mathematical
demonstration."
To the good natured reader we need offer no apology; to the ill
natured we dare attempt none, for introducing these detailed views of
the first attempts of young invention. They are not exhibited as
models, either to do honour to the tutor or his pupils; but simply to
show, how the mind may be led from the easiest steps, to what are
supposed to be difficult in education. By imagining ourselves to be in
the same situation with children, we may guess what things are
difficult to them; and if we can recollect the course of our own minds
in acquiring knowledge, or in inventing, we may by retracing the same
steps instruct others. The order that is frequently followed by
authors, in the division and subdivision of their elementary
treatises, is not always the best for those who are to learn. Such
authors are usually more intent upon proving to the learned that they
understand their subject, than upon communicating their knowledge to
the ignorant. Parents and tutors must, therefore, supply familiar oral
instruction, and those simple, but essential explanations, which books
disdain, or neglect to give. And there is this advantage in all
instruction given in conversation, that it can be made interesting by
a thousand little circumstances, which are below the dignity of
didactic writers. Gradually we may proceed from simple to more
complicated contrivances. The invention of experiments to determine a
theory, or to ascertain the truth of an assertion, must be
particularly useful to the understanding. Any person, who has attended
to experiments in chemistry and natural philosophy, must know, that
invention can be as fully and elegantly displayed upon these subjects
as upon any in the fine arts or literature. There is one great
advantage in scientific invention; it is not dependent upon capricious
taste for its reward. The beauty and elegance of a poem may be
disputed by a thousand amateurs; there can be but one opinion about
the truth of a discovery in science.
Independent of all ambition, there is considerable pleasure in the
pursuit of experimental knowledge. Children especially, before they
are yet fools to fame, enjoy this substantial pleasure. Nor are we to
suppose that children have not capacities for such pursuits; they are
peculiarly suited to their capacity. They love to see experiments
tried, and to try them. They show this disposition not only wherever
they are encouraged, but wherever they are permitted to show it; and
if we compare their method of reasoning with the reasonings of the
learned, we shall sometimes be surprised. They have no prejudices,
therefore they have the complete use of all their senses; they have
few ideas, but those few are distinct; they can be analyzed and
compared with ease; children, therefore, judge and invent better, _in
proportion to their knowledge_, than most grown up people.
Dr. Hooke observes, that a sensible man, in solving any philosophical
problem, should always lean to that side which is opposite to his
favourite taste. A chemist is disposed to account for every thing by
chemical means; a geometrician is inclined to solve every problem
geometrically; and a mechanic accounts for all the phenomena of nature
by the laws of mechanism. This undue bias upon the minds of ingenious
people, has frequently rendered their talents less useful to mankind.
It is the duty of those who educate ingenious children, to guard
against this species of scientific insanity.
There are prejudices of another description, which are fatal to
inventive genius; some of these are usually found to attend ignorance,
and others sometimes adhere to the learned. Ignorant people, if they
possess any degree of invention, are so confident in their own
abilities, that they will not take the pains to inquire what others
have thought or done; they disdain all general principles, and will
rather scramble through some by-path of their own striking out, than
condescend to be shown the best road by the most enlightened guide.
For this reason, self-taught geniuses, as they are called, seldom go
beyond a certain point in their own education, and the praise we
bestow upon their ingenuity is always accompanied with expressions of
regret: "It is a pity that such a genius had not the advantages of a
good education."
The learned, on the contrary, who have been bred up in reverence for
established opinions, and who have felt in many instances the
advantage of general principles, are apt to adhere too pertinaciously
to their theories, and hence they neglect or despise new observations.
How long did the maxim, that nature abhors a vacuum, content the
learned! And how many discoveries were retarded by this single false
principle! For a great number of years it was affirmed and believed,
that all objects were seen by the intervention of visual rays,
proceeding from the eye much in the same manner as we feel any object
at a distance from us by the help of a stick.[55] Whilst this absurd
analogy satisfied the mind, no discoveries were made in vision, none
were attempted. A prepossession often misleads the industry of active
genius. Dr. Hooke, in spite of the ridicule which he met with, was
firm in his belief, that mankind would discover some method of sailing
in the air. Balloons have justified his prediction; but all his own
industry in trying experiments upon flying was wasted, because he
persisted in following a false analogy to the wings of birds. He made
wings of various sorts; till he took it for granted that he _must_
learn to fly by mechanical means: had he applied to chemistry, he
might have succeeded. It is curious to observe, how nearly he once
touched upon the discovery, and yet, misled by his prepossessions,
quitted his hold. He observed, that the air cells[56] of fishes are
filled with air, which buoys them up in the water; and he supposes
that this air is lighter than _common_ air. Had he pursued this idea,
he might have invented balloons; but he returned with fatal
perseverance to his old theory of wings. From such facts, we may learn
the power and danger of prejudice in the most ingenious minds; and we
shall be careful to preserve our pupils early from its blind dominion.
The best preservation against the presumption to which ignorance is
liable, and the best preservative against the self sufficiency to
which the learned are subject, is the habit of varying our studies and
occupations. Those who have a general view of the whole map of human
knowledge, perceive how many unexplored regions are yet to be
cultivated by future industry; nor will they implicitly submit to the
reports of ignorant voyagers. No imaginary pillars of Hercules, will
bound their enterprises. There is no presumption in believing, that
much more is possible to science than ever human ingenuity has
executed; therefore, young people should not be ridiculed for that
sanguine temper which excites to great inventions. They should be
ridiculed only when they imagine that they possess the means of doing
things to which they are unequal. The fear of this deserved ridicule,
will stimulate them to acquire knowledge, and will induce them to
estimate cautiously their own powers before they hazard their
reputation. We need not fear that this caution should repress their
activity of mind; ambition will secure their perseverance, if they are
taught that every acquisition is within the reach of unremitting
industry. This is not an opinion to be artfully inculcated to serve a
_particular_ purpose, but it is an opinion drawn from experience; an
opinion which men of the highest abilities and integrity, of talents
and habits the most dissimilar, have confirmed by their united
testimony. Helvetius maintained, that no great man ever formed a great
design which he was not also capable of executing.
Even where great perseverance is exercised, the choice of the subjects
on which the inventive powers are employed determines, in a great
measure, their value: therefore, in the education of ingenious
children, we should gradually turn their attention from curious
trifles to important objects. Boverick,[57] who made chains "to yoke a
flea," must have possessed exquisite patience; besides his chain of
two hundred links, with its padlock and key, all weighing together
less than the third part of a grain, this indefatigable _minute
artificer_ was the maker of a landau, which opened and shut by
springs: this equipage, with six horses harnessed to it, a coachman
sitting on the box, with a dog between his legs, four inside and two
outside passengers, besides a postilion riding one of the fore horses,
was drawn with all the ease and safety imaginable by a well trained
flea! The inventor and executor of this puerile machine, bestowed on
it, probably, as much time as would have sufficed to produce Watt's
fire engine, or Montgolfier's balloon. It did not, perhaps, cost the
Marquis of Worcester more exertion to draw out his celebrated century
of inventions; it did not, perhaps, cost Newton more to write those
queries which Maclaurin said he could never read without feeling his
hair stand on end with admiration.
Brebeuf, a French wit, wrote a hundred and fifty epigrams upon a
painted lady; a brother wit, fired with emulation, wrote upon the same
subject three hundred more, making in all four hundred and fifty
epigrams, each with appropriate turns of their own. Probably, Pope and
Parnell did not rack their invention so much, or exercise more
industry in completing "The Rape of the Lock," or "The Rise of Woman."
These will live for ever; who will read the four hundred and fifty
epigrams?
The most effectual methods to discourage in young people the taste for
frivolous ingenuity, will be, never to admire these "laborious
nothings," to compare them with useful and elegant inventions, and to
show that vain curiosities can be but the wonder and amusement of a
moment. Children who begin with trifling inventions, may be led from
these to general principles; and with their knowledge, their ambition
will necessarily increase. It cannot be expected that the most
enlarged plan of education could early give an intimate acquaintance
with all the sciences; but with their leading principles, their
general history, their present state, and their immediate
desiderata,[58] young people may, and ought to be, made acquainted.
Their own industry will afterwards collect more precise information,
and they will never waste their time in vain studies and fruitless
inventions. Even if the cultivation of the memory were our grand
object, this plan of education will succeed. When the Abbe de
Longuerue, whose prodigious memory we have formerly mentioned, was
asked by the Marquis d'Argenson, how he managed to arrange and retain
in his head every thing that entered it, and to recollect every thing
when wanted? The Abbe answered:
"Sir, the elements of every science must be learned whilst we are very
young; the first principles of every language; the a b c, as I may
say, of every kind of knowledge: this is not difficult in youth,
especially as it is not necessary to penetrate far; simple notions are
sufficient; when once these are acquired, every thing we read
afterwards, finds its proper place."
FOOTNOTES:
[39] V. Plutarch. Quintilian.
[40] Berington's History of the Lives of Abeillard and Heloisa, page
173.
[41] Eloge de M. L'Abbe d'Alary.
[42] Marquis d'Argenson's Essays, page 385.
[43] D'Alembert's Eloge de M. d'Alary.
[44] Curiosities of Literature, vol. ii. page 145.
[45] Priestley on Electricity, page 317.
[46] Fuller, author of the Worthies of England. See Curiosities of
Literature, vol. i.
[47] V. Chapter on Books, and on Geography.
[48] Dr. Darwin. Zoonomia.
[49] At the end of the History of Vision.
[50] "Nov. 7, 1749. Electrical fluid agrees with lightning in these
particulars. 1. Giving light. 2. Colour of the light. 3. Crooked
direction. 4. Swift motion. 5. Being conducted by metals. 6. Crack or
noise in exploding. 7. Subsisting in water or ice. 8. Rending bodies
it passes through. 9. Destroying animals. 10. Melting metals. 11.
Firing inflammable substances. 12. Sulphureous smell. The electric
fluid is attracted by points. We do not know whether this property is
in lightning. But since they agree in all the particulars wherein we
can already compare them, is it not probable they agree likewise in
this? Let the experiment be made."
_Dr. Franklin's Letters, page 322._
[51] Helvetius, "Sur l'Esprit."
[52] See preface to L'Esprit des Romains considere.
[53] See the account in the Monthly Review.
[54] He had tried to sing it to the tune of "Hope, thou nurse of young
desire."
[55] Priestley on Vision, vol. i. page 23.
[56] V. Hooke's Posthumous Works.
[57] Hooke's Mycrographia, p. 62.