a faculty of the mind, which presents to us ideas or notions of what is past, accompanied with a persuasion that the things themselves were formerly real and present. What we distinctly remember to have perceived, we as firmly believe to have happened, as what is now present to our senses.

The opinions of philosophers concerning the means by which the mind retains the ideas of past objects, and how those ideas carry with them evidence of their objects having been actually perceived, shall be laid before our readers in another place: (see METAPHYSICS, Part I. chap. ii.). At present we shall throw together some observations on the memory, which, being of a practical rather than of a speculative nature, cannot be admitted into the article where the nature of the faculty itself is discussed.

"When we remember with little or no effort, it is called remembrance simply, or memory, and sometimes passive memory*. When we endeavour to remember * Beattie's what does not immediately (and as it were) of itself Elements occur, it is called active memory, or recollection. A science: ready recollection of our knowledge, at the moment when we have occasion for it, is a talent of the greatest importance. The man possessed of it seldom fails to distinguish himself in whatever sort of business he may be engaged." It is indeed evident, that when the power of retention is weak, all attempts at eminence of knowledge must be vain; for "memory is the primary and fundamental power†, without which there ‡ Iller. could be no other intellectual operation. Judgment and ratiocination suppose something already known, and draw their decisions only from experience. Imagination selects ideas from the treasures of remembrance, and produces novelty only by varied combinations. We do not even form conjectures of distant, or anticipations of future events, but by concluding what is possible from what is past."

Of a faculty so important, many rules have been given for the regulation and improvement; of which the first is, that he who wishes to have a clear and distinct remembrance, should be temperate with respect to eating, drinking, and sleep. The memory depends very much upon the state of the brain; and therefore whatever is hurtful to the latter, must be prejudicial to the former. Too much sleep clouds the brain, and too little overheats it; therefore either of these extremes must of course hurt the memory, and ought carefully to be avoided. Intemperance of all kinds, and excess of passion, have the same ill effects; so that we rarely meet with an intemperate person whose memory is at once clear and tenacious.

"The liveliest remembrance is not so vivid as the sensation that produced it‡; and ideas of memory do ‡ Beattie's often, but not always, decay more and more, as the original sensation becomes more and more remote in time, &c. and those sensations and those thoughts have a chance to Idler. be long remembered which are lively at first; and those are likely to be most lively which are most attended to, or which are accompanied with pleasure or pain, with wonder, surprize, curiosity, merriment, and other lively passions. The art of memory, therefore, is little more than the art of attention. What we wish to remember we should attend to, so as to understand it perfectly, fixing our view particularly upon its importance or singular nature, that it may raise within us some of the passions above mentioned. We should also disengage our minds from all other things, that we may attend more effectually to the object which we wish to remember. No man will read with much advantage who is not able at pleasure to evacuate his mind, or who brings not to his author an intellect defeated and pure, neither turbid with care, nor agitated with pleasure. If the repositories of thought are already full, what can they receive? If the mind is employed on the past or the future, the book will be held before the eyes in vain.

"It is the practice of many readers, to note in the § Elements margin of their books the most important passages ‡ Science: the Memory. the strongest arguments, or the brightest sentiments. Thus they load their minds with superfluous attention, repress the vehemence of curiosity by useless deliberation, and by frequent interruption break the current of narration or the chain of reason, and at last close the volume and forget the passages and the marks together. Others are firmly persuaded, that nothing is certainly remembered but what is transcribed; and they, therefore, pass weeks and months in transferring large quotations to a common-place-book. Yet, why any part of a book which can be consulted at pleasure should be copied, we are not able to discover. The hand has no closer correspondence with the memory than the eye. The act of writing itself diffracts the thoughts; and what is read twice, is commonly better remembered than what is transcribed. This method, therefore, confuses time, without afflicting the memory. But to write an abridgment of a good book may sometimes be a very profitable exercise. In general, when we would preserve the doctrines, sentiments, or facts, that occur in reading, it will be prudent to lay the book aside, and put them in writing in our own words. This practice will give accuracy to our knowledge, accustom us to recollection, improve us in the use of language, and enable us so thoroughly to comprehend the thoughts of other men, as to make them in some measure our own."

"Our thoughts have for the most part a connection*; so that the thought which is just now in the mind, depends partly upon that which went before, and partly serves to introduce that which follows.—Hence we remember best those things of which the parts are methodically disposed and mutually connected. A regular discourse makes a more lasting impression upon the hearer than a parcel of detached sentences, and gives to his rational powers a more fatalary exercise: and this may shew us the propriety of conducting our studies, and all our affairs, according to a regular plan or method. When this is not done, our thoughts and our business, especially if in any degree complex, soon run into confusion."

As the mind is not at all times equally disposed for the exercise of this faculty, such seasons should be made choice of as are most proper for it. The mind is seldom fit for attention presently after meals; and to call off the spirits at such times from their proper employment in digestion, is apt to cloud the brain, and prejudice the health. Both the mind and body should be easy and undisturbed when we engage in this exercise, and therefore retirement is most fit for it: and the evening, just before we go to rest, is generally recommended as a very convenient season, both from the stillness of the night, and because the impressions will then have a longer time to settle before they come to be disturbed by the accession of others proceeding from external objects; and to call over in the morning what has been committed to the memory overnight, must, for the same reason, be very serviceable. For, to review those ideas while they continue fresh upon the mind, and unmixed with any others, must necessarily imprint them more deeply.

Some ancient writers speak of an artificial memory, and lay down rules for attaining it. Simonides the poet is said first to have discovered this, or at least Memory, to have given the occasion for it. The story they tell of him is this: Being once at a feast, he recited a poem which he had made in honour of the person who gave the entertainment. But having (as is usual in poetry) made a large digression in praise of Castor and Pollux; when he had repeated the whole poem, his patron would give him but half the sum he had promised, telling him he must get the other part from those deities who had an equal share in the honour of his performance. Immediately after, Simonides was told that two young men were without, and must needs speak with him. He had scarcely got out of the house, when the room where the company was fell down, killed all the persons in it, and fo mached the bodies, that, when the rubbish was thrown off, they could not be known one from another: upon which Simonides recollecting the place where every one had sat, by that means distinguished them. Hence it came to be observed, that to fix a number of places in the mind in a certain order, was a help to the memory: As we find by experience, that, upon returning to places once familiar to us, we not only remember them, but likewise many things we both said and did in them. This action therefore of Simonides was afterwards improved into an art; and the nature of it is this: They bid you form in your mind the idea of some large place or building, which you may divide into a great number of distinct parts, ranged and disposed in a certain order. These you are frequently to revolve in your thoughts, till you are able to run them over one after another without hesitation, beginning at any part. Then you are to impress upon your mind as many images of living creatures, or any other sensible objects which are most likely to affect you, and be foonest revived in your memory. These, like characters in shorthand, or hieroglyphics, must stand to denote an equal number of other words, which cannot so easily be remembered. When therefore you have a number of things to commit to memory in a certain order, all that you have to do is, to place these images regularly in the several parts of your building. And thus they tell you, that, by going over several parts of the building, the images placed in them will be revived in the mind; which of course will give you the things or words themselves in the order you desire to remember them. The advantage of the images seems to be this; that, as they are more like to affect the imagination than the words for which they stand, they will for that reason be more easily remembered. Thus, for instance, if the image of a lion be made to signify strength, and this word strength be one of those I am to remember, and is placed in the porch; when, in going over the several parts of the building, I come to the porch, I shall sooner be reminded of that image than of the word strength. Of this artificial memory, both Cicero and Quintilian speak; but we know not of any modern orator that has ever made use of it. It seems indeed to have been a laborious way of improving the memory, if it serves that end at all, and fitter for assisting us to remember any number of unconnected words than a continual discourse, unless so far as the remembrance of one word may enable us to recollect more. It is, however, in allusion to it, that we still call the parts of a discourse Memory, places or topics, and say, in the first place, in the second place, &c.

But, doubtless, the most effectual way to gain a good memory, is by constant and moderate exercise of it; for the memory, like other habits, is strengthened and improved by daily use. It is indeed hardly credible, to what a degree both active and passive remembrance may be improved by long practice. Scaliger reports of himself, that in his youth he could repeat above 100 verses, having once read them; and Berthaeus declares, that he wrote his Comment upon Claudian without consulting the text. To hope, however, for such degrees of memory as these, would be equally vain as to hope for the strength of Hercules, or the swiftness of Achilles. "But there are clergymen who can get a sermon by heart* in two hours, though their memory, when they began to exercise it, was rather weak than strong: And pleaders, with other orators who speak in public and extempore, often discover, in calling instantly to mind all the knowledge necessary on the present occasion, and every thing of importance that may have been advanced in the course of a long debate, such powers of retention and recollection as, to the man who has never been obliged to exert, himself in the same manner, are altogether astonishing. As habits, in order to be strong, must be formed in early life, the memories of children should, therefore, be constantly exercised; but to oblige them to commit to memory what they do not understand, perverts their faculties, and gives them a dislike to learning." In a word, those who have most occasion for memory, as orators and public speakers, should not suffer it to lie idle, but constantly employ it in treasuring up and frequently reviving such things as may be of most importance to them; for by these means it will be more at their command, and they may place greater confidence in it upon any emergency.

"Men complain of nothing more frequently than of deficient memory†: and indeed every one finds, that after all his efforts, many of the ideas which he desired to retain have slipped irretrievably away; that acquisitions of the mind are sometimes equally fugitive with the gifts of fortune; and that a short intermission of attention more certainly lessens knowledge than impairs an estate. To assist this weakness of our nature, many methods besides those which we have mentioned have been proposed; all of which may be justly suspected of being ineffectual: for no art of memory, however its effects may have been boasted or admired, has been ever adopted into general use; nor have those who possessed it appeared to excel others in readiness of recollection or multiplicity of attainments." The reader who is desirous to try the effect of those helps, may have recourse to a treatise entitled A new Method of Artificial Memory; but the true method of memory is attention and exercise.

MNEMONICA, or the art of memory, as it was called by the ancients, has been lately revived and studied in Germany and France. In some notices concerning this subject which we have seen, it is observed that this science is more intimately connected with the Egyptian hieroglyphics than is generally thought, and that this connection may help to explain them. In Germany this art has been revived by M. Aretin; and a pupil of his, M. Kaefner has been permitted to teach the new doctrine at Leipzig, but on the express condition of not allowing his hearers to write down his lectures. This seems to be a singular, and we may add a folly prohibition. The following account is given of this art in a letter from Paris in the beginning of 1807. "During my residence, says the writer, in this metropolis I heard a great deal of a new method of mnemonique, or of a method to assist and fix our memory, invented by Gregor de Feinaigle. Notwithstanding the simplicity with which he announced his lectures in the papers, I could not determine myself to become a pupil of his, as I thought to find a quack or mountebank, and to be laughed at by my friends for having thrown away my cash in such a foolish manner. Perhaps I should hesitate to this moment about the utility of this newly invented method to assist our natural memory, had I not had the pleasure of dining at his excellency's the count of Metternich, the Austrian ambassador, who followed, with all his secretaries, the whole course of lectures: they all spoke very advantageously of it, likewise several other persons of the first rank I met there: in consequence of this I was inserted into the list of pupils, and I follow, at this moment, the lectures. All I can tell you about this method is, it is a very simple one, and easy to be learned, adapted to all ages and sexes: all difficulties in such sciences as require an extraordinary good memory, for instance, the names and epochs in history, are at once overcome and obviated. There is not one branch of science to which this method cannot be applied. It is easy to be perceived that such an invention cannot pass without some critique, and even sarcasms, in the public prints: some of them were very injurious, and plausible enough to mislead the public, who, knowing nothing of the method, are always more ready to condemn than to assist. Mr Feinaigle, to answer all these critics at once, adopted a method not less public for Paris than the public papers, but less public for the rest of Europe: he gave, the 22d of last month, a public exhibition to about 2000 spectators, in which he did not appear at all, only about 12 or 15 of his pupils: each of them made such an application of the method as his situation in life required. The principal parts were the following: history, about names and years; geography, with respect to longitude, latitude, number of inhabitants, square miles, &c. &c.; grammar in various languages, about different editions of the same work; pandects, their division, and title of each book, title, &c.; different systems of botany, poetry, arithmetic, &c. &c. At last one desired the company to give him one thousand words, without any connection whatsoever, and without numeric order; for instance, the word astronomer, for No 62; wood, for No 188; lovely, for No 370; dynasty, for No 23; David, for No 90, &c. &c. till all the numbers were filled; and he repeated the whole (notwithstanding he heard these words without order, and but once), in the numerical order; or he told you what word was given against any one number, or what number any one word bore. It is still more striking, but certainly, likewise, more difficult, to retain as many numbers however great they may be. For words and numbers I could venture myself, with the greatest safety, as far as one hundred of each; and I am sure, after having fixed them once, which is done in less than ten minutes, I could repeat them to you at any period, without ever thinking any more of them *."

Feinagle afterwards delivered lectures on the same subject to crowded audiences in London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, &c.; but we do not find that any of his pupils received improvement from his instructions, and very few of them could give any account of his method.