ATTENTION.
As we have seen in the preceding chapters, before one can expect to
recall or remember a thing, that thing must have been impressed upon the
records of his subconsciousness, distinctly and clearly. And the main
factor of the recording of impressions is that quality of the mind that
we call Attention. All the leading authorities on the subject of memory
recognize and teach the value of attention in the cultivation and
development of the memory. Tupper says: "Memory, the daughter of
Attention, is the teeming mother of wisdom." Lowell says: "Attention is
the stuff that Memory is made of, and Memory is accumulated Genius."
Hall says: "In the power of fixing the attention lies the most precious
of the intellectual habits." Locke says: "When the ideas that offer
themselves are taken notice of, and, as it were, registered in the
memory, it is Attention." Stewart says: "The permanence of the
impression which anything leaves on the memory, is proportionate to the
degree of attention which was originally given to it." Thompson says:
"The experiences most permanently impressed upon consciousness are those
upon which the greatest amount of attention has been fixed." Beattie
says: "The force wherewith anything strikes the mind is generally in
proportion to the degree of attention bestowed upon it. The great art of
memory is attention.... Inattentive people have always bad memories."
Kay says: "It is generally held by philosophers that without some degree
of attention no impression of any duration could be made on the mind, or
laid up in the memory." Hamilton says: "It is a law of the mind that the
intensity of the present consciousness determines the vivacity of the
future memory; memory and consciousness are thus in the direct ratio of
each other. Vivid consciousness, long memory; faint consciousness, short
memory; no consciousness, no memory.... An act of attention, that is an
act of concentration, seems thus necessary to every exertion of
consciousness, as a certain contraction of the pupil is requisite to
every exertion of vision. Attention, then, is to consciousness what the
contraction of the pupil is to sight, or to the eye of the mind what the
microscope or telescope is to the bodily eye. It constitutes the better
half of all intellectual power."
We have quoted from the above authorities at considerable length, for
the purpose of impressing upon your mind the importance of this subject
of Attention. The subconscious regions of the mind are the great
storehouses of the mental records of impressions from within and
without. Its great systems of filing, recording and indexing these
records constitute that which we call memory. But before any of this
work is possible, impressions must first have been received. And, as you
may see from the quotations just given, these impressions depend upon
the power of attention given to the things making the impressions. If
there has been given great attention, there will be clear and deep
impressions; if there has been given but average attention, there will
be but average impressions; if there has been given but faint attention,
there will be but faint impressions; if there has been given no
attention, there will be no records.
One of the most common causes of poor attention is to be found in the
lack of interest. We are apt to remember the things in which we have
been most interested, because in that outpouring of interest there has
been a high degree of attention manifested. A man may have a very poor
memory for many things, but when it comes to the things in which his
interest is involved he often remembers the most minute details. What is
called involuntary attention is that form of attention that follows upon
interest, curiosity, or desire--no special effort of the will being
required in it. What is called voluntary attention is that form of
attention that is bestowed upon objects not necessarily interesting,
curious, or attractive--this requires the application of the will, and
is a mark of a developed character. Every person has more or less
involuntary attention, while but few possess developed voluntary
attention. The former is instinctive--the latter comes only by practice
and training.
But there is this important point to be remembered, that _interest may
be developed by voluntary attention_ bestowed and held upon an object.
Things that are originally lacking in sufficient interest to attract the
involuntary attention may develop a secondary interest if the voluntary
attention be placed upon and held upon them. As Halleck says on this
point: "When it is said that attention will not take a firm hold on an
uninteresting thing, we must not forget that anyone not shallow and
fickle can soon discover something interesting in most objects. Here
cultivated minds show their especial superiority, for the attention
which they are able to give generally ends in finding a pearl in the
most uninteresting looking oyster. When an object necessarily loses
interest from one point of view, such minds discover in it new
attributes. The essence of genius is to present an old thing in new
ways, whether it be some force in nature or some aspect of humanity."
It is very difficult to teach another person how to cultivate the
attention. This because the whole thing consists so largely in the use
of the will, and by faithful practice and persistent application. The
first requisite is _the determination to use the will_. You must argue
it out with yourself, until you become convinced that it is necessary
and desirable for you to acquire the art of voluntary attention--you
must convince yourself beyond reasonable doubt. This is the first step
and one more difficult than it would seem at first sight. The principal
difficulty in it lies in the fact that to do the thing you must do some
active earnest thinking, and the majority of people are too lazy to
indulge in such mental effort. Having mastered this first step, you must
induce a strong burning desire to acquire the art of voluntary
attention--you must learn to want it hard. In this way you induce a
condition of interest and attractiveness where it was previously
lacking. Third and last, you must hold your will firmly and persistently
to the task, and practice faithfully.
Begin by turning your attention upon some uninteresting thing and
studying its details until you are able to describe them. This will
prove very tiresome at first but you must stick to it. Do not practice
too long at a time at first; take a rest and try it again later. You
will soon find that it comes easier, and that a new interest is
beginning to manifest itself in the task. Examine this book, as
practice, learn how many pages there are in it; how many chapters; how
many pages in each chapter; the details of type, printing and
binding--all the little things about it--so that you could give another
person a full account of the minor details of the book. This may seem
uninteresting--and so it will be at first--but a little practice will
create a new interest in the petty details, and you will be surprised at
the number of little things that you will notice. This plan, practiced
on many things, in spare hours, will develop the power of voluntary
attention and perception in anyone, no matter how deficient he may have
been in these things. If you can get some one else to join in the
game-task with you, and then each endeavor to excel the other in
finding details, the task will be much easier, and better work will be
accomplished. Begin to take notice of things about you; the places you
visit; the things in the rooms, etc. In this way you will start the
habit of "noticing things," which is the first requisite for memory
development.
Halleck gives the following excellent advice on this subject: "To look
at a thing intelligently is the most difficult of all arts. The first
rule for the cultivation of accurate perception is: Do not try to
perceive the whole of a complex object at once. Take the human face as
an example. A man, holding an important position to which he had been
elected, offended many people because he could not remember faces, and
hence failed to recognize individuals the second time he met them. His
trouble was in looking at the countenance as a whole. When he changed
his method of observation, and noticed carefully the nose, mouth, eyes,
chin, and color of hair, he at once began to find recognition easier. He
was no longer in difficulty of mistaking A for B, since he remembered
that the shape of B's nose was different, or the color of his hair at
least three shades lighter. This example shows that another rule can be
formulated: Pay careful attention to details. We are perhaps asked to
give a minute description of the exterior of a somewhat noted suburban
house that we have lately seen. We reply in general terms, giving the
size and color of the house. Perhaps we also have an idea of part of the
material used in the exterior construction. We are asked to be exact
about the shape of the door, porch, roof, chimneys and windows; whether
the windows are plain or circular, whether they have cornices, or
whether the trimmings around them are of the same material as the rest
of the house. A friend, who will be unable to see the house, wishes to
know definitely about the angles of the roof, and the way the windows
are arranged with reference to them. Unless we can answer these
questions exactly, we merely tantalize our friends by telling them we
have seen the house. To see an object merely as an undiscriminated mass
of something in a certain place, is to do no more than a donkey
accomplishes as he trots along."
There are three general rules that may be given in this matter of
bestowing the voluntary attention in the direction of actually _seeing_
things, instead of merely looking at them. The first is: Make yourself
take an interest in the thing. The second: See it as if you were taking
note of it in order to repeat its details to a friend--this will force
you to "take notice." The third: Give to your subconsciousness a mental
command to take note of what you are looking at--say to it; "Here, you
take note of this and remember it for me!" This last consists of a
peculiar "knack" that can be attained by a little practice--it will
"come to you" suddenly after a few trials.
Regarding this third rule whereby the subconsciousness is made to work
for you, Charles Leland has the following to say, although he uses it to
illustrate another point: "As I understand it, it is a kind of impulse
or projection of will into the coming work. I may here illustrate this
with a curious fact in physics. If the reader wished to ring a doorbell
so as to produce as much sound as possible, he would probably pull it
as far back as he could, and then let it go. But if he would, in letting
it go, simply give it a tap with his forefinger, he would actually
redouble the sound. Or, to shoot an arrow as far as possible, it is not
enough to _merely_ draw the bow to its utmost span or tension. If, just
as it goes, you will give the bow a quick push, though the effort be
trifling, the arrow will fly almost as far again as it would have done
without it. Or, if, as is well known in wielding a very sharp sabre, we
make the draw cut; that is, if to the blow or chop, as with an axe, we
also add a certain slight pull, simultaneously, we can cut through a
silk handkerchief or a sheep. Forethought (command to the
subconsciousness) is the tap on the bell; the push on the bow; the draw
on the sabre. It is the deliberate but yet rapid action of the mind when
before dismissing thought, we bid the mind to consequently respond. It
is more than merely thinking what we are to do; it is the bidding or
ordering the Self to fulfill a task before willing it."
Remember first, last and always, that before you can remember, or
recollect, you must first _perceive_; and that perception is possible
only through attention, and responds in degree to the latter. Therefore,
it has truly been said that: "The great Art of Memory is Attention."