WE have already seen that when I thought of a cat I thought of a hearth-rug (which is one of the ideas that can come out of that magic box), but I might apparently equally well have thought of whiskers, milk, claws, or mice. One of such ideas was sure to form the next stepping-stone in my chain of ideas or flow of thought. This chain of thoughts presents an unbroken succession. Each idea is succeeded by another, like the links in a chain. As in time things follow one after another, only two moments with their contents being linked directly together, so in the flow of mental activity images follow one after another, only two being directly connected.

There is some kind of a choice at every step in the process of thought, and it is instructive to observe to what widely separate goals every parting of the ways may lead, since every idea calls up such a great variety of associations.

When I used to look at the banyan tree outside my window I saw and heard the throngs of crows and squirrels; and now any thought of a banyan tree will at once bring within its circle a vision of this particular tree, with its spreading branches and hanging roots, the fern-pots beneath it, the audacious crows and the chattering, shrieking, striped brown squirrels. But at once thoughts of other kinds of trees also enter into the circle of attention, though further from the center; the tall, straight palm, the wrinkled oak, the slender poplar, the sad, shorn willow of central England, the trim pine among the northern snows.

Then again, as I view the spreading branches of the banyan tree and its many trunks, bearing the weight of giant arms ten centuries old, my mind runs back to the history which it might tell—of the floods of the river running near, [Page 95] of the building of houses and the making of roads, and, far back in the past, of the breezy jungle growth, the jackals and the tigers, the birds and the monkeys and the countless ants and scorpions and snakes which have nestled in its hollows and lived among its branches in the centuries past.

If my mood changes again I might notice its vast extent — a mountain of wood — and think how an army might shelter beneath it, how it would give timber to build ten houses or make a thousand roaring fires. Thus the banyan tree calls up different kinds of thoughts according to my mood.

The manner in which anyone's thought will turn at the parting of the ways which occurs at every step in thought depends upon his mood. Consider this idea of the tree. It has many thoughts attached to it, such as those mentioned above, or those represented in the following diagram —

IN Chapter III we have studied how to develop concentration by thinking of many things connected with a chosen object, taking care at the same time not to lose sight of it. For that purpose we made use of the four Roads of Thought.

Now I propose to the student a very similar experiment for the purpose of expanding ideas, so that he may be able to do his best thinking about any object.

Select your object, let us say "house," and proceed to clothe it with all its directly connected ideas. The result may be somewhat as follows, but should be much fuller, as there is not room here for a complete picture.

HOUSE

Road I. A. Abode, dwelling, domicile, residence, habitation, address, lodging.

B. Cottage, mansion, cabin, shed, hut, hovel, tent, shanty, barrack, palace, castle, kennel, sty, pen, nest, hive, wigwam, hutch, villa, lodge, hotel, inn, bungalow.

G. Prison.

Road II. A. Room, hearth, floor, wall, door, roof, foundation, brick, mortar, tile.

Village, town, farm, camp, park, block, row, square, street, road, terrace.

B. Warehouse, shop, factory, field, orchard, garden, barn.

Road III. A. Large, small, comfortable, ugly, beautiful, new, old, Elizabethan, Georgian, Colonial, modern, stone, brick, wood, concrete, country, town.

B. Museum, school, factory, workshop, store, church, temple. [Page 101]

Road IV. A. Furniture, crockery, fire, water, electricity, gas, bath, architect, builder. Also houses you have known or particularly noticed.

B. Comfort, safety, health, companionship, cleaning.

As another example I will take an abstract subject —

PEACE

Road I.
A. Virtue.
B. Harmony, concord, friendship, calm, agreement, sympathy.
C. War, enmity.

Road II.
A. Good citizenship, worthiness, holiness.
B. Industry, devotion, perseverance, altruism.

Road III.
A. Fraternity, friendliness, tranquillity.
B. Sympathy, game, agreement, arbitration, good-humor, co-operation.

Road IV.
A. Pipe, treaty, League of Nations, ploughshare, pastoral scene, pacifism.
B, Safety, commerce, progress, armistice, truce.

It will be noticed that some of the above lines of thought have two subdivisions. In IV B, for example, we have to consider what peace leads to, and what leads to peace.

In actual experiment along these lines the student will find that he has to do much thinking. He will ponder a moment to consider how peace is a virtue. He will consider whether a factory is part of the same whole along with a house, or is another object having the same quality as a house; he will probably finally agree with me that it is both — for they are often co-parts of a town or village, and they also have an outstanding quality in common, the character of being shelters from the sun, wind or rain. Some may consider that I am wrong in putting prison in contrast to house, and that I should have put "the out-of-doors," and that I am wrong in including such [Page 102] things as hive, nest and kennel in objects belonging to the same class. Perhaps I am wrong in those cases, but the student must agree that this exercise gives a good training in the art of thinking. To do it you are compelled to think.[Page 105]

NEARLY all persons find it difficult to remember numbers, because these do not in themselves represent objects evident to the senses and therefore material for imagination. We can easily imagine two gate posts, three sides of a triangle, six surfaces of a cube, but when we go beyond this it becomes increasingly difficult to imagine the quantities of even quite definite things. It is still more difficult to picture the numbers representing quantities of units of measure.

A teacher may "feel" that there are thirty-five or forty boys in his class by seeing them in complete or broken groups, but of things such as the number of feet in a mile, or the square root of a number, only a specially constituted mind could form the slightest image. Numbers in themselves are meaningless in the imagination.

Notwithstanding this abstract character of numbers, they have some distinguishable features in their relationships to one another. It is therefore possible to develop a greatly improved memory of numbers by studying these features, so as to acquire familiarity with their distinctions.

To a very little child a cat and a dog are not at first clearly different kinds of things, but later it observes their points of difference and recognizes them easily — no longer as indistinguishable twins. When non-Asiatic persons first go to Japan or India, they often say that the Japanese or the Hindu people are all alike. Frequently they find themselves in the embarrassing position of not being able to distinguish those to whom they have been introduced a day or two before. But later on they have no such difficulty. At first the general color and formation of face dominated the mind, and only after it had become quite used to these features did it begin [Page 106] to discriminate the minor differences. In time, indeed, the new resident forgets the brown colour and does not notice it at all.

Similarly do we appreciate the facial merits of our loved relatives, who may be homely or even repulsive to others. To add another example; it has often been remarked that a shepherd recognizes by their features the members of his flock, which look alike to ordinary persons.

Most people have not developed a sense of the relations between numbers, and have not practised thinking about them — hence their inability to recognize and remember them. When this faculty of the mind has been developed by practice of number arguments, the numbers will become familiar realities with strong features of their own, and will be remembered with comparative ease.

Let us suppose that you want to remember your new telephone number, which is 8715. Write the number down, look at it, and do all the reasoning that you can about it, on the following lines: the first number is even and it is the biggest; the other three are odd, and of those three the biggest comes first and is one less than the even number; the middle odd number is the smallest possible; if you add the last two you have a descending series from 8; the addition of the two middle numbers equals the first — and so on.

It is a great help in the remembering of long numbers to divide them into groups, in much the same way as long words are divided into syllables. The present number conveniently breaks into 8 and 715.

Looking over the balcony where I am writing this paragraph I see a motor car standing in the road—number 208457. This easily splits into two parts, 2084 and 57. The first part has only even numbers, if we may consider o in the even series; the last part has two odd numbers, which are ascending and successive, and follow in order (5 after 4) from the first part. The first part begins with the smallest [Page 107] positive even number, ascends after o to the highest and then goes on to half that or double the first — and so on.

The following happens to be the number on a certain passport: 062246. It presents the peculiarity of being composed only of even numbers. It splits comfortably into three, 06, 22 and 46. The middle pair is easily remembered, and the other two may be compared. Both end in 6; the first number of the last pair is the sum of the middle pair, and the second number follows it successively; the sum of the last pair is equal to the sum of all the rest — and so on.

There is no group of numbers that cannot be discussed in this way. After considering for half a minute any telephone or other number you will find it pleasantly reclining in your mind whenever you want to remember it. The arguments will disappear, but the number will remain, and you will probably soon find also that your observation and memory for numbers have been greatly improved, so that you can remember them far better than before, even without special intention and without resort to these number arguments.

Let us now turn to a method of remembering numbers which I have called "Number Diagrams."

Look for a little while at the first diagram above, which is nothing more than a square containing nine dots in the centers of the nine equal divisions into which it is easily broken up in the imagination.

Then look at the second diagram, and imagine that the divisions of the square have the values of i to 9, as shown.

In the first diagram the middle dot can be supposed to [Page 108] stand for the number 5, the dot in the lower left-hand corner for the number 7, that in the upper right-hand corner for 3, and so on. Thus, an imaginary square containing a dot or a little dash, as below, will constitute a diagram for the number 6.

Two Digits. To form a diagram for a number having two digits, simply draw a line from the one position to the other, straight if the smaller comes first, curved if the bigger comes first, as in the following, representing 34, 95 and 28.

Three Digits. If the number contains three or more digits, always begin with a straight line and end with a curved one; thus we may express 458, 242, 6138, 5736, 24691 and 759523 by.

[Page 109] If the three numbers happen to lie in a straight line, a break in the line should be made, as will be seen in the following diagrams of 258 and 1598:

A little complication is introduced if two similar digits happen to come together, but the difficulty is overcome by the device of making a little tick across the line to indicate the second similar digit; thus, for 553, 227 and 445599 we form —

A further complication arises in connection with the cipher. In this case insert a little circle into the series; thus, for 20, 202 and 22005550 we have —

If the cipher comes first in the number, detach it at the beginning if there are only two digits, but attach [Page 110] it if there are more, as in the following, representing 02, 026 and 073.

A decimal point may be indicated by a dot placed in that one of the nine divisions of the square which corresponds to the position of the number before which it is to be placed. Thus if the point is to be placed before the first digit, it will be put in the first division, and so on, as in the following examples, showing .423, 4.23 and 42.3.

It is a help to make the number diagrams of a generous size in the imagination — as big as an average picture or even a window frame.

The two practices in this chapter lend themselves to immediate employment in practical affairs, so no special exercises need be prescribed. [Page 111]

IN the year 1648 Stanislaus Mirik von Wenusheim wrote a work entitled Relatio Novissima ex Parnasso de Arte Meminiscentiae, [Parnassus” was the name of a periodical, published at Marburg] in the course of which he expounded what he described as "the most fertile secret". This "secret" consisted in substituting letters for numbers and then making words and sentences from the letters.

He appears to have been the first mnemotechnist to employ this plan in Europe, and his method was quickly taken up and improved by the famous G. W. Leibnitz, who also called it a secret — "A secret how numbers, especially those of chronology, etc., can be conveyed to the memory so as never to be forgotten."[From a MS, in the Library of Hanover].

Dr. Richard Grey was the first to expound the idea in English, in his Memoria Technica, published in 1730. It cannot be said that Dr. Grey's number letters were very satisfactory, for it was possible to make from them only uncouth words, whereas for the benefit of mind and memory we require words naming familiar objects or ideas.

In Dr Grey's system I could be represented by either a or b, 2 by either d or e, 3 by either I or t — I need not mention the rest of the equivalents. To remember (to take only one example) that the Inquisition was first erected against the Albigenses in the year 1222, he formed the compound word, "Inquisded" — the first part to represent the Inquisition, and the "ded" to represent the number 222, the thousand being ignored as not being likely to be forgotten.

Gregor von Feinaigle (1812) improved upon that clumsy system by giving number-values only to consonants, and keeping the vowels free, so that they might be inserted between the consonants to form well-known words. His alphabet was: I = t; 2 = n; 3 = m; 4 = r; 5 = I; 6 = d; 7 = c, k, g, q; 8 = b, h, v, w; 9 = p, f; o = s, x, z. From these equivalents the number 812 (I take it from the date of publication of his work, as a random example) could be represented by words such as "button," "obtain," or "Wotan."

Other teachers of memory systems — notably Aime Paris, Francis Fauvel Gouraud, Dr. Edward Pick, and others more recent, worked further upon this idea of number equivalents, introducing small improvements — mostly attempts to provide for each number a more or less equal representation. The lower case of a practical printer shows that certain letters are used in the English language much more frequently than others. Those which are comparatively little used should therefore be grouped in lots, each lot to represent one number.

I have studied most of these systems, and as a result have formed my own, which I believe to be a slight improvement upon even the best of any of the others. It happened that nearly twenty-five years ago I had a long illness, and during convalescence I had to lie down quietly for about six weeks. I took the opportunity during that time to study the combinations of the letters in all the commonly used words in the English dictionary.

Before I explain the method, in which I naturally adopted all that was best in the old systems, I must mention that the "fertile secret" was known among the Hindus long ago. I have before me a set of number-equivalents for the Sanskrit language given in Nilakantha's Commentary on the " Mahabharata" (Adi Parva, end of Sarga 2). His system was called " Katapayadi.” II3

I insert this only as a curiosity for European readers, and

so refrain from explaining the phonetics of the Sanskrit alphabet.

One of the uses of this system is found in a commentary on the "Ramayana," in which the number of verses is given in mnemonic form at the ends of certain sections. We find apparently unmeaning words ending in "mana" (a measure), such as garamana, which would indicate the number 32. The system is also referred to in other places, such as Vararuchi's "Kadinava" and the "Laghu Arya Siddhanta."

Now to the system which I advocate. It springs from a study based upon a recognition that the numbers I, 2, 3. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, o, are probably used equally in human affairs, but the letters of the alphabet are not, and further, some letters are rare at the beginnings or the ends of words, while others are common.

I is to be represented by t, or d. Thus the following words may stand for number i: head, tea, toe, doe, hot, oat, wad, yacht, youth, thaw, etc.
2 is to be represented by n. Words for number 2: hen, knee, wain, neigh, etc., 3 is to be represented by m. Words for number
3: yam, may, home, ma, aim, etc.
4 is to be represented by r. Words for number 4: oar, row, ray, arrow, etc.
5 is to be represented by I. Words for number 5 : hill, hall lea, yellow, etc.[Page 114]
6 is to be represented by ch, j or sh. Words for number 6: joy, wish, ash, edge, show, chew, etc.
7 is to be represented by k, g, or ng. Words for number 7: cow, hag, egg, hang, ache, etc.
8 is to be represented by f or v. Words for number 8: foe, vow, half, wave, fee, etc.
9 is to be represented by p or b. Words for number 9 : ape, bee, hope, web, abbé hub, etc.
0 is to be represented by s or z. Words for number 10: hose, saw, haze, zoo, ass, etc.

The letters h, w and y, and the vowels, have no number-values in our method, but may be used for word-making wherever convenient. Only the sound of words (not the spelling) is considered, and double letters are always used as though single, as in "yellow."

It is very easy with these number-letters to find a great variety of words representing numbers from I to 100: in many cases, such as 10, 14, 15, 41, 50, 51, 57, 70, 85, 90, 91, 94, 95, 97, one can readily write down about forty words for each number.

When we come to numbers between 100 and 1000, it is a little more difficult, and the student will find that, while he can readily write down several words for most of the numbers there will be over two hundred out of the nine hundred numbers which will give him pause.

If we choose the number 742 for example, we may readily form corn, crane, green, carrion, grain, acorn, cairn, etc. For 945 we easily discover April, pearl, prowl, broil, parole, peril, parley, barley, barrel, apparel, beryl, brawl, etc. For 114 we readily find daughter, editor, theatre, debtor, auditor, tutor, tooter, dater, etc.

But the following numbers, among others, present difficulties: 993, 963, 896, 699, 598, 599, 568, 525,. 499, 418, 353. 135.

To overcome these difficulties I suggest the following [Page 115] plan: use an adjective and a noun together, and count only the first consonant sound of the adjective. We can then form, for the above numbers, epic poem, prowling puma (993); pure jam, precious gem (963); flowery bush, full page (896); shy baby, cherry-wood pipe (699); lean beef, light puff (598); lively puppy, lead pipe (599); Highland chief, yellow sheaf (568); long nail, lower Nile (525); restless baby, ruling pope (499); running thief, rapid dive (418); meek lamb, mortared lime (353); daily mail, hot meal (135).

It is necessary in all such cases to make a very lively image to represent the adjective. Vague and general adjectives, such as nice, good, bad, pleasant, etc., are to be strictly avoided.

Students do not nowadays need to remember long lists of dates in history and of numbers in science and mathematics, as was formerly the case, so numbers of more than three digits are rarely needed. In history, one needs only three digits for dates, as the thousands may easily be remembered without any special attention being given to them.

When we have settled that we do not want more than three digits in one word, we may, if we wish, employ the method of counting only the first three consonant sounds in a long word, or if we use an adjective, the first sound in the adjective and the first two in the noun.

We may then form number-words such as the following: flowing river (848); boomerang (934); book-case (977); wild elephant (558); blue lotus (951); young pigeon (796).

The number-words, when formed, can be associated without difficulty in all the ways that I have already indicated, and from them the numbers can readily be drawn.

The following will serve as a little exercise for the student. Convert these numbers into a sentence by first finding as [Page 116] many words as you can for each: 2, 3175, 174—I, 1953. 2, 65I, 51—0, 64I5, I, 9, 21410I, 9, I, 45, 756, 8, 80620, 21, I, 45, 756, 8, 04620. I0, 0I95632I, 0I0, 2, 0I2I4I,14,I7I40, 67, I, 09650, 2, I, 74, 8, 65I42.

The key to the above sentence is: "A new medical degree — the Diploma in Child Health — is shortly to be introduced by the Royal College of Physicians and the Royal College of Surgeons. Its establishment sets a new standard for doctors wishing to specialize in the care of children."

In the last chapter I gave a telephone number, 87I5, a motor-car number, 208457, and a passport number, 062246. If we wish to remember these by the number-word method we could form "full kettle," "unsafe rowlock,"and"such inane rush" respectively. In this case we must remember that we are using the adjectives in full in reference to the two larger numbers.

Now let us suppose that the telephone, the motor car and the passport belong respectively to a Mr. Smith, a Mr. Brown and a Mr. Robinson; we can connect the numbers with those persons by: full kettle — repair to kettle — tinsmith — Smith; unsafe rowlock — boat — drown — Brown ;such inane rush — danger — robbery — Robinson.

If they are your own telephone, motor car and passport you may remember them by: full kettle—bubbling sound — ringing sound — telephone; unsafe rowlock — boat — conveyance — motor car; such inane rush — travel — passport. The student may perhaps improve upon these associations; I have given the first that came into my head.

A man with a good memory for numbers, and thoroughly familiar with their manipulation, might be able, with some effort, to remember a dozen or twenty digits once read out to him; but it would be indeed difficult to find a man who could remember, say, a thousand numbers in that way, though the task of doing so by our method of substitution is simplicity itself [ Page 117] There are several ways of arranging the digits in a very long number. The method I recommend is that of taking them in groups of three and then finding number-words for them.

I will take at random — 92I8403657I92836057I2823701562394. For this I may form the following series of words: bind, freeze, marine shell, cool dip, new vim, chisel, cotton, venom, ghost, legion, empire. These words are almost the first that occur to me, and are by no means necessarily the best. I use them to show what can be done off-hand, though it is better generally to go over the numbers and choose the words more carefully when there is time.

The next step is to link the words by intermediaries, where necessary, as, bind (fix) freeze (water) marine shell (sea) cool dip (nudity) new vim (keen, tool) chisel (shavings, soft, cotton-wool) cotton (cotton-thread, stringy, snake) venom (fear) ghost (dead, dead warriors) legion (Roman legion) empire.

Another method of making number-words was "discovered" by M. Gouraud, and expounded in his Phreno-Mnemotechny, published in New York and London in I845. He called it "number metamorphosis."

His metamorphoses were made through similarity of sound. The name of some object of sense was substituted for the name of the number, thus: for the figure zero, hero; for the number one, a wand; for the number two, a tooth; for three, a tree; for four, a fort; and so on.

These metamorphosed words or "homophones" were used as "pegs" on which to hang nine or ten numbers each, while the ten numbers were formed into a sentence on the principle of number-words.

M. Gouraud showed how to apply this method to keeping in mind the ratio of the circumference to the diameter of a circle to the extent of I54 decimals, a feat which he performed by learning sixteen simple sentences.[Page 118]

The first nine numbers are 3 I 4 I 5 9 2 6 5, for which he formed the ridiculous sentence: "My deary dolly, be no chilly." This, the first set, is the "hero" set, and was linked with that word by the supposition that a hero was uttering the sentence.

The sentences are difficult to make, and the linking is decidedly primitive, but apart from these elements, the scheme of metamorphosed key-numbers proves very useful.

It may, for example, be used as providing starting-points for a series of our number-words, which may very readily be linked on to it. We may choose thirty numbers, as before, 92I8403657, I92836057I, 282370I562, and remember them in three sets of ten, each preceded by one of the key-words. The digits from the first to the tenth will be under the aegis of "hero," the eleventh to the twentieth under "wand," and so on. Thus for the foregoing numbers we may make three sets: hero, bone, devour, smash, leg; wand, tap, knife, images, locket; tooth, hen, fan, hammock, stall, chain. These could be connected, where it is necessary, by (mighty dead), (hungry dog), (crunch), (brokenleg); (blow), (cut), (gleaming and mirror), (portrait); (beak), (feather), (swing), (rest), (rope).

This method facilitates the location of the digits, and enables one to pick out a number required, without the trouble of counting along the whole series.

A third plan, which I prefer to M. Gouraud's, is to select number-words for key-words, instead of homophones; for example, instead of hero, use ice, sea, saw, ass, sow, sue, ease, essay, hose, house, or any other zero word; instead of wand use tea, tie, add, oat, toe, height, youth, or any other word standing for the number one. In this case it is easy to find a word suited to the series which it is required to begin.

It will now be seen that the task of remembering dates is a very easy one. All that needs to be done is to take the last three digits of the date, form a word from them, and connect [Page 119] this in turn with the idea of the event by our link method.

There are, of course, other devices useful to students, such as that of making charts of centuries, divided into squares for each year or ten years, and fixing small symbols in each square to represent the happenings of the period.

I will content myself with one or two examples of the link method: Queen Boadicea raised an army against the Romans and killed 7000 of them, in the year A.D. 67—check. King Arthur, famous for his powerful resistance and victories over the Saxons, A.D. 5I4 — leader. Queen Elizabeth ascended the English throne, I558 — fond of praise — lady-love. Germany annexed Austria, I938, bold move. Transatlantic air mail began, I939, air — air-pump — pump. [Page 120]

IN a previous chapter I have mentioned that the Greek poet Simonides had the idea of symbolizing complex or abstract ideas so as to remember them easily. The examples I took were from a hypothetical discourse in which government, financial matters and naval affairs and the necessity for wisdom in the policy of the time, would be represented respectively by a crown or scepter, a current coin, the image of a ship, and the figure of Minerva.

We are also indebted to him for the idea of using places or positions in which to put ideas for safe-keeping in the mind, much as we put papers in pigeon-holes or files.

Suppose that we provide our places in a house which is quite familiar to us. Then, if we enter our house at the front door and number all the objects we see in turn — the doormat I, the brass step 2, a picture 3, a hatrack 4, an umbrella stand 5, and so on — we have at once a basis for remembering a large number of things in order.

In the discourse above mentioned we might place the crown on the doormat, the coin on the brass step, the ship in the picture, a statue of Minerva on the hatrack, and so on. Thus the speaker could avoid missing any of them in the course of his speech or debate.

The incident which led Simonides to this mnemonic device of places is related as follows by Cicero. I have taken it from Dr. Pick's History of Mnemonics (I866).

"A man named Skopas, at Kranon, in Thessalia, once gave a grand dinner in honor of a victorious gladiator. Among the guests was the poet Simonides, who, during the repast, recited some verses he had composed in honor of the hero of the feast. After his recitation, he was called outside, and [Page 121] had scarcely left the room, when the ceiling fell in, crushing Skopas and all his guests. When the relatives of the killed came to bury the remains, they found them so smashed and disfigured, that they could not distinguish one body from another. It happened, however, that Simonides had observed the place which each person had occupied; and on looking at the several places, he was able to identify all the bodies. This led him to believe that nothing could better assist the memory than to retain in the mind certain fixed places, and therein to deposit, with the assistance of the imagination, whatever we intend to keep in our memory."

The following extract from Quintilian shows how the idea was used among the ancients —

"You choose a very spacious and diversely arranged place — a large house, for instance, divided into several apartments. You impress on the mind with care whatever is remarkable in it; so that the mind may run through all the parts without hesitation or delay; for the essential is not to hesitate before the objects, as remembrances destined to help other remembrances should be more than sure. Moreover, for recalling to mind what you have written or simply meditated, you help yourself with any sign borrowed from the matter you have to treat of — if the object should be one of war, navigation, or the like; or with some word, for a word suffices to refresh the memory, as soon as it begins to fail. If the object is navigation, the sign will be an anchor; if it is war, it will be a weapon.

"Then you proceed as follows: you place the first idea in the hall, the second in the parlour, and so on with the rest, going over the windows, the chambers, to the statues and similar objects. This done, if the object is to apply that proceeding to the memory, you look over every apartment, beginning with the first, and recalling at every picture the idea which was confided to it; so that, howsoever numerous the things may be which are to be kept in mind, they are [Page 122] put in a row, and form a sort of chain, which prevents the confusion to which you are exposed when bound to learn by heart. You can create for yourself imaginary places."

In another place Quintilian said that in place of a house, which might not contain enough things to act as pegs or places (quite possible in his day, I suppose, though hardly likely now), we may assume a public building, the walls of a city, or a well-known road, to divisions of which we may refer our symbols.

Metrodorus assumed the circle of the zodiac, divided into 360 compartments of a degree each — but that in my opinion would not provide a background of sufficiently vivid quality. The common things of daily life, or the incidents of mythology or history are far more vivid and facile for any but an extraordinary mind.

The process of locating ideas (by means of symbols and otherwise) in familiar objects underwent numerous changes in the course of the centuries that followed. I need not detail these but will content myself with a brief description of the adaptation made by Gregor von Feinaigle.

In this later development an imaginary house is taken as having a number of rooms, and each room as having fifty places, arranged in the following manner: the floor is divided into nine equal squares, and each wall is divided similarly into nine, with, however, a tenth in the centre above it upon the ceiling, while another square in the centre of the ceiling makes the fiftieth square in the room.

You enter at one side, and find before you nine squares on the floor; then, on your left hand is a wall with the tenth square on the ceiling above, and squares II to I9 on the wall; in front of you a similar set from 20 to 29; on the right another, from 30 to 39; beside you another, from 40 to 49 ; while number 50 lies above you in the middle of the ceiling.

Having fixed your walls, it is better to take a walk round [Page 123] the room in imagination, rather than merely to stand at the side and survey it in the manner described.

It now remains to people the apartment, and this may be done in a variety of ways.

Von Feinaigle used the method of similarity of form, that is, he made pictures somewhat resembling the numbers assigned to the squares or places. On the floor of the first room he had —

1
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squares or places, I suggest that he may select number-words relating to some chosen category of things, such as:

Towns; I Tokio, 2 New York, 3 Manchester, 4 Rio de Janeiro, 5 London, etc. For number I0 a town beginning with s or z — Stuttgart. Here I use the first consonant only.

Animals; I dog, 2 hen, 3 monkey, 4 rabbit, 5 lion, etc.

Materials; I wood, 2 enamel, 3 marble, 4 iron, 5 leather, etc.

Races; I Tibetan, 2 Indian, 3 American, 4 Russian, 5 Liberian, etc. [Page 125]

Locomotion; I tram-car, 2 underground railway, 3 motor car, 4 aeroplane, 5 lorry, etc.

Shops; I Thacker's, 2 Wanamaker's, 3 Marshall Field's, 4 Orr's, 5 Liberty's, etc. (I have given the names of shops well known to me; the student will easily provide substitutes of his own.)

Clothing; I turban, 2 necktie, 3 umbrella, 4 riding suit, 5 lace, etc.

Foods; I toffee, 2 nuts, 3 milk, 4 rice, 5 olive oil, etc.

People; I Hitler, 2 Napoleon, 3 Emerson, 4 Rembrandt, 5 Lenin, etc. (I have given historical names, but personally-known people are even better, as having more mnemonic detail)

I now ask the student to notice that I have given, in "Towns," "Animals," "Materials," etc., number-words for I, 2, 3, etc. He is thereby provided with 90 squares, which will serve him well for a long series, since he can use Towns for places II to 20, Animals for places 2I to 30, and so on. To complete a full "house " of a hundred squares he can make an extra series of I to 10, composed of, say, Sounds: I thunder, 2 neighing, 3 music, 4 rattle, 5 laughter etc.

I consider this last method of mine about the best of all — easiest to commit to memory, and allowing for a selection of very familiar objects. Let the student make up his own ten sets of varied familiar objects on these lines, and he will be well equipped to perform what most people will regard as wonderful feats of memory.

Whatever he decides upon he will do well to make a set of little drawings for himself; however rough or crude they may be they will aid his imagination greatly.

It is necessary to commit the chosen set of places thoroughly to memory, but the task is an easy one, because the objects either resemble the numbers they represent or are number-words.

Another plan for making a set of 25 squares on the spur [Page 126] of the moment is to follow the letters of the alphabet (omitting x) with reference to some category such as animals, or countries or occupations. Thus we might form the series: Architect, Butler, Carpenter, Doctor, Elephant-trainer, Farmer, Goldsmith, Harbour-master, Ink-maker, Journalist, Kitchen-maid . . . Veterinary surgeon, Watchman, Yachtsman, Zoologist.

The advantage of the picture-system over that of merely linking together a long string of things is that you can at once pick out any one of the things you want from it without disarranging the series, and without having to repeat the whole series from the beginning. Its disadvantage is that more ideas are imposed upon the mind than are necessary for understanding the things to be remembered. Yet that disadvantage is small, and the system does enable one to do some things that would be impossible by the link method. With its aid some astonishing memory feats can be performed.

Some such system as this was almost universally employed by those who from time to time appeared in Middle Age Europe performing memory feats consisting of repeating vast numbers of words and numbers once read out to them. One of the most striking examples of this use of the art was a certain Lambert Schenckel, who travelled over the chief countries in Europe in the sixteenth century, and won honour and praise everywhere, though in his earlier years he, like many others, was persecuted for supposed traffic with the devil. A pupil of his, Sommer, writes in a Latin treatise —

"A lawyer, who has a hundred or more causes to conduct, by the assistance of my mnemonics may stamp them so strongly on his memory that he will know in what manner to answer each client, in any order and at any hour, with as much precision as if he had but just perused his brief. And in pleading, he will not only have the evidence and reasonings of his own party at his finger's ends, but all the grounds [Page 127] and refutations of his antagonist also. Let a man go into a library, and read one book after another, yet he shall be able to write down all that he has read, many days after, at home."

The student will understand, from my previous chapters, how to associate the objects to be remembered with the places to which they are assigned. Suppose that in the I7th place we want to remember an ostrich. Let my I7th place be a town beginning with k, g, or ng, say Kiel. I do not like the old idea of making a picture of an ostrich crossing the Kiel canal. If I make a rational association and concentrate on it for a moment, I can drop it out of mind with full confidence that it will come to light again as soon as I think of Kiel. Such a connection might be: ostrich — sand — water — canal — Kiel.[Page 128]

INDIA has always been a land of wonders, among which the memory feats of the Ashtavadhanis have long been conspicuous. An article in The Theosophist magazine for I886 reports an occasion on which a memory expert of South India simultaneously kept in mind and did the following eleven things and afterwards correctly repeated the whole.

This mental arithmetic is not difficult, but it requires practice. It is only the real experts who include such multiplications in their round of ten or twenty people.[Page 137]

READING can be made into an opportunity for the development of mental power. Its effect is very often quite the reverse, for there is scarcely anything more destructive of mind organization and the power of thought than the habit of promiscuous reading without purpose and without afterthought or forethought.

If you know any people who cannot read or seldom read, you may have observed that the condition of their minds is often superior to that of reading people. What they know they know well; their ideas are vivid, and available when they want them — but we must offset against this advantage a great lack of mental content.

There is no reason, however, why we should not have perfect clearness and vigor of mind along with ample knowledge ; and indeed this can be brought about by reading in the right manner. We shall perhaps read a little less than we did before, but we shall read well.

For this purpose I recommend the advice of Emerson: " Read for correction, not for information." In other words, think first and read afterwards. Some few people read first and think afterwards, which is a good thing, though not the best; but I am afraid that most people just read and do not think at all.

The rare people who are really going to profit by their reading are those who think first and read afterwards.

If you have half an hour for reading, spend ten minutes in reviewing your own knowledge and thought on the subject — even if you think you have none, you may engage in wondering about it—and then read for twenty minutes. Or, [Page 136] if you have only a quarter of an hour to spare, think for five minutes and read for ten.

This means that when you pick up your book to read, let us say, a chapter on the habits of elephants, you will not immediately open the book and plunge into the subject. You will first sit with the book unopened on your knee or on the table, and say to yourself: "Now, just what do I know about the habits of elephants ? " It may be much, or little, or next to nothing, that you know, but whatever it is you must make yourself review your own knowledge before you start to add to it. Then you may open your book and begin to read, and the result will be that you will understand more than usual; and you will remember more than usual, indeed, nearly all, of what you read.

Your mind has been awakened to the subject; its own knowledge has been rearranged in an orderly form, and many questions, definite and indefinite, have come into view. The expectancy engendered by thinking before reading provides the mind with hooks to take up many points which otherwise would scarcely be noticed, and the arrangement of your old knowledge offers a place into which each piece of new knowledge will fit.

This practice puts the mental house in order, opens up and tidies the most unused drawers and boxes, and prepares the mind for light, as no other kind of reading can. First of all you have ideas of your own — then you correct, enlarge and increase them by reading. You gain not only knowledge and a well-ordered mind, but also exercise that results in power of mind and will.

Even if you are merely reading a story or a novel, why not sit for a while musing on the situation that has arisen ? What would you do if you were in the position indicated, what would you make the characters do if you were the author ?

This mode of reading has also another great merit; it [Page 139] prepares one for a fruitful old age. Everyone who wants to keep his mental powers unimpaired after the decline of the physical senses should have a mental hobby, and give a little time to it from three to five days each week — not every day, for that tends to fatigue.

It is best always to have on hand a good book, on philosophy, or history, or travel, or science or any other subject, to which one can turn several times a week for mental recreation. There should be no thought of reaching the end of the book; it is to be lived with, and the method of reading it should be that in which one thinks first and reads afterwards.

I recommend every young man or woman when leaving college or high school to keep up one of his subjects of study as a mental hobby, or to take up some other subject in which he is interested. It does not matter what the subject is — a branch of mathematics, history, biology, geology, psychology, moral philosophy, economics, political science, astronomy, chemistry, religion, art; any one of these, or-any branch of one of them.

The most important fact in connection with this study is that the student will be using his mind under the control of the will, that is to say, by determination from within, not merely in response to the stimulus of everyday events and needs, as is the case when we think about most of the affairs of life.

If a man has been thinking only in response to external stimuli, it is almost certain that when the physical powers of hearing, sight, etc., begin to decline and external things do not make as strong claims on attention as they did before, and curiosity begins to disappear, mental activity will also diminish.

But when a man has used his mind from within, has accustomed it to work under the impulse of his own will, there is no reason why his mental powers should not continue to improve even into advanced old age of the body.[Page 140]

There are still other benefits resulting from the possession of a mental hobby. You have sooner or later the satisfaction of feeling that you are the master of some line of thought or subject of human knowledge. You know as much as almost anyone does about it. This gives you confidence, and you feel also the strength and the indescribable happiness of the inner sense of will.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Let us consider the last line. The principal word is "false." The subject is falsity. To get the feel of the line, notice that the first word is "them", the last "man".

Now to questions. Whose falsity is referred to ? Thou canst not then be false. Is it a matter of choice ? No. Thou canst not then be false. When ? As mentioned before, when following the advice, "To thine own self be true". False in what way ? False to any man. Not to a particular man ? No. Thou canst not then be false to any man.

But do not be content with mere learning of the words. Poetry, by reason of its beauty, tells more than its words; it calls up new life in us, to witness truth felt as well as known.[Page 151]

IN view of the great value of concentration of mind, I will now give some exercises — not by any means to be imposed on the student, but useful perhaps as playthings for him at odd times.

I. Sit down in your room and look round carefully, noting all the little things which it contains. Now close your eyes and make all those things go before your mind in imagination, until the entire procession has passed by. If you know an alphabet of foreign forms, such as the Devanagari, the Arabic, or the Russian, make the letters pass one by one in procession before your imagination until the whole series is complete. If a break occurs in the series, begin again.

2. Take a walk in imagination, along a familiar road or street, noticing all the details that you can remember as you slowly pass them by; return by the same route. If the attention wanders from the path that you have chosen for your walk, make it come back and begin the walk over again from the beginning.

3. Pass in imagination through some previous experience of your own. Suppose, for example, you have risen in the morning, taken breakfast, gone to college, listened to a lecture, worked in the library, returned to lunch, and so forth, through all the general incidents of the daily round.

4. Select some particular sight or sound that is present, say the ticking of the clock. Ask yourself what is the cause of that. It is due to the swinging of the pendulum and the movements of the spring and wheels. But what causes all these ? Try to run back along a series of images, following the clock back in its wanderings; see how it was placed in position, how it traveled to where it is, where it came from, [Page 152] how its parts were put together and made, where and by whom, how its materials were procured. Imagine all that has contributed to make it what it is. It does not matter very much whether your imaginings in this practice are right or wrong; the exercise will train the mind to run through a series of coherent imaginings without missing the point.

5. Go out for a walk in imagination, as you did before, along some familiar way, but on coming to a selected building or scene, stop and examine it. Try to picture it in detail. If you find that the mind begins to tug in its efforts to get away, move about into different positions every few moments and try to picture the scene from these different points of view. You will probably find that you know very little of the details of the buildings or the scenes with which you thought yourself quite familiar.

In this exercise dwell with perfect gentleness upon the scene you are trying to recall, as though you were trying to remember a fading dream. It is not success in recalling that is the important thing in these exercises, but the development of mind that comes from trying. Stop when you are tired.

6. Look carefully at the wall of the room in which you sit; notice everything about it, the objects that are fixed upon it or are standing against it, the form, size and proportions of everything connected with it. Now shut your eyes and try to picture the whole at once. You will find the image hazy and indefinite. Imagine then various small parts of it in turn, and you will see how much clearer these are.

Again, picture to yourself the figure of a man. You will probably find it indefinite, but when you look at one small portion of the image that part will become clear while the rest will tend to disappear. If you make a hand or foot clear, the head will vanish; if you make the head clear the lower part of the body will have gone. Whatever may be the image that you examine in this manner, some part of it will elude you, and when you look at one portion the [Page 153] others will grow faint or even disappear. Practice, therefore, the following method of mind-painting.

Take a picture of a human face. Place it before you and examine a small portion of it, say an eye. Close your eyes and think of that portion. Repeat this several times, until you can form it clearly. Now take another part near to the first — say the other eye — and concentrate upon it in the same manner. Next recall the first eye and make an image of the two together. Now deal with the nose in the same way, separately, and then picture together the two eyes and the nose.

Compare your image with the original every time, and go on adding part after part until you can imagine the whole face without great effort. In one sitting you may succeed in reproducing only one or two features; it will take time to complete the portrait. If you thus do even one picture perfectly, you will find a great increase in grasp of imagination.

You will find it a great help in making such a mental picture, to see that all the details within it are congruous with one another. For example, you might picture a cart drawn by two horses, but if you attempt to imagine it as being drawn by two kangaroos you will find the matter much more difficult. It is not possible to hold two disconnected images or ideas before the mind at the same time, but it is possible to grasp them at onpe if the main idea includes both at the same time, or something common to both.

I can picture a kangaroo and a horse together by centring my attention on their common characteristics and thinking of both as animals. I can picture a horse and cart together because they occur together in common experience as a unit having a single purpose. But it would be comparatively difficult to hold together the ideas of a kangaroo and a cart. The mind would tend to run from one to the other, losing sight of each alternately. If, however, some common relationship were discovered and made the centre of attention [Page 154] the two ideas would readily cling together, instead of repelling each other by their incongruity. It is useful therefore to find the idea which makes the group really a unit, and make that the center of your attention.

7. Select a picture of any pleasant scene. For example, a Hindu might choose the well-known picture of Shri Krishna in the form of a boy seated on a rock, playing a flute, while in the background happy cows graze on the bank of a peaceful river, beyond which a range of tree-clad hills protectively encloses the gentle scene.

Take such a picture; examine it carefully; close your eyes and reproduce it in imagination. Now begin to narrow down the view, and observe how much clearer the scene becomes as you diminish its extent. First drop the clouds and the mountains in the background, then the trees and the river and the cows which are grazing by it, and so on little by little until you have nothing left but the form of the boy. Go on slowly in the same way, making the image clearer and clearer as it grows smaller, until you have lost the rock and have only left the upper part of the body, the head and the face.

Hold that image for a moment, and then begin to expand it again, trying to keep the whole as clear as the small piece to which you had contracted it, and as you build up the entire picture again, point by point, make every effort to retain for the complex unit the clearness which you were able to secure in one small portion of it.

8. Place some pleasant and familiar object, such as a small statue in front of you, at a little distance, preferably in the middle of the room. After examining it, close your eyes and imagine it clearly from the position where you are, as you would look at it.

Next imagine it from the back, not by turning it round in your imagination, but by transferring your idea of yourself to a point on the opposite wall. Imagine yourself not to be [Page 155] sitting where you are, but against the opposite wall, looking at the object from the opposite side.

When you have both images well made — from the front and the back — try to imagine them both at once, as though you were looking at the object from both sides at once. To do this effectively you will need to get rid of the idea that you are facing the object from one point of view, and imagine yourself as on both sides of it, regarding it from both directions at once.

This exercise can be extended to the above and the below, if desired. It teaches us at least to remember that usually we have a very limited point of view. Even an artist — a good observer — rarely thinks of the roots of a tree or the shape of its top, as seen from above.

9. Take up now a simple object, such as a flower or a box of matches. Examine it; look into the interior. Close your eyes and imagine it. Imagine that your consciousness is at the center of the article and that you are looking at it from within. Next, expand your consciousness gradually until you are no longer a point in the middle of the object, but have become a large ball with the object in the middle of yourself.

10. Select an object which you have already used in your exercises in concentration. This time, instead of building the picture up little by little, call it up complete. Command it to appear. If you have used the picture of Shri Krishna, now, with your eyes closed, look into empty space and mentally call out the name of Shri Krishna, trying to discern the form. Suddenly the complete picture will spring up before your mental vision, in idea or in form.

11. Make an effort to think in images, without the use of words. Very often we feel that we do not know a thing until we have succeeded in recalling its name or verbal description, though its appearance and qualities may be quite familiar. Thinking in words is thinking in symbols, and in that [Page 156] there is much danger of missing the truth, for it is easily possible to manipulate and rearrange the symbols in a manner to which the facts would not conform.

As an exercise one might let the following ideas form a succession of thought forms, without words: horse, cow, milk, moonlight, moon, sun. Picture a horse, trying not to think of the name of it. If you now drop the picture and then call up the image of a cow, you will ordinarily have to think the word "cow" between the two. This is the usual process in the chain of thought: name (horse), form (horse), name (horse), name (cow), form (cow), name (cow), name (milk), form (milk), name (milk), and so on. In this practice however, try to leave out the names, and let the picture undergo a continuous gradual change.

Having pictured the horse clearly, begin to modify it. Let the contour of the back, the slope of the neck, the shape of the body, the form of the legs and hoofs, the tail, the setting of the head, and other details gradually change from those of a horse to those of a cow, until the transition is complete. Then proceed to concentrate the attention on the milk which comes from the cow, and gradually lose sight of the parts of the cow until only the stream of milk is seen. Make this undergo a gradual change. Thin out the liquid stream, letting it lose its definite outline and opacity, but retaining the colour though making it paler, and to this nebulous stream add outline and surroundings until you have a stream of moonlight. Next trace the moonlight to the moon in the dark sky, adding this to the picture. Pass away from the moonlight and let your attention centre on the moon itself. Gradually change this form. Let its outline remain but expand, and its colour change, until you have the great golden-red ball of the rising or the setting sun.

Many may think that these practices of concentration involve great effort, but little result. It is not really so. Think of the efforts that you made as a child when learning [Page 157] to write, how long it took you to gain control of your hand and pen. That was a greater effort than this, for, however much the mind may seem to plunge about, it is made of far more yielding and plastic stuff than is your arm or hand, and is therefore easier to control. Indeed it is easier to learn to control the mind than it is to learn to write. Think, again, of the vast number of exercises a violinist will practice to render his fingers supple, obedient, and expert. Give the same, or far less, effort to mental training, and you will surely be delighted with the result. But there should be no physical strain in all this — that is imperative. [Page 158]

ALTHOUGH it does not come within the purview of the average student, it will not be out of place for me to describe here the process of meditation, and explain how it can be done.

The best preliminary exercise is what has been called the daily life ledger. Spare a little time in the morning or evening to review the experiences and doings of the day and think about them in a gentle manner. Quite apart from the mental exercise which it gives, this greatly rests the mind and emotions, as it combs out the tangled threads of daily life. It also ploughs and harrows the field, so to speak, in preparation for experience to come.

It is well to form a habit of voluntary reflection also with reference to any matter of current interest to you. For want of this habit the rich variety of our modern life leaves little or no knowledge behind it in the mind, and fails to awaken thought. Very often when subjects such as chemistry, history, and economics are being studied, or when languages are being learnt, the student makes very little progress. An hour's work makes little impression upon the mind, if twenty-three hours are allowed to elapse before the subject is revised. But in a school or college where the jargon of the students contains frequent reference to the salient points of their studies, a kind of familiarity results, which gives the subject a footing in the mind. The same principle applies in the case of young people who desire to model themselves upon someone whom they admire. Girls attend the moving pictures and sometimes fix upon one of, the Stars as their ideal. They are full of enthusiasm while the picture lasts and for an hour or two afterwards, but they lose the point and fail to stamp it on their lives for want of reflection, [Page 159] Voluntary reflection not only impresses the mind in this way, it starts the process of thought. The collection and review of ideas or mental pictures is one thing. Thinking is another. But after a little time thoughts will begin to come. Then the beginner may do well to cherish them and note them down for future reflection, since they easily evade the memory.

Further, this meditation or voluntary reflection will prepare the way for intuition. It need not be frequent and should not be strenuous. When others snatch up a novel or a newspaper or seek a conversation with some one else to fill an odd quarter of an hour, you may quietly reflect.

I do not think systematic meditation can be well done unless it is first understood. One must therefore consider the theory of meditation.

Meditation begins where concentration ends. The purpose of concentration is to focus the attention upon a small field of mental vision, so that the light of consciousness may be as brilliant as possible; it is analogous to the fixing of a reflector round a light, as, for example, in a searchlight. During such concentration our awareness is at its best.

Concentration involves contraction of the field of mental vision, but meditation involves its expansion. In concentration you gain clear vision; in meditation you try to keep that clear vision but extend it over a larger field and into depths and heights of thought which you have not been able to reach clearly before.

Even a small mind can often do one thing well; even the animal mind can bring one narrow virtue to a high degree of perfection, as in the case of the faithfulness of the dog. What we require to develop is a large mind which can grasp a great deal at once and still deal decisively with the whole.

Yet concentration must precede expansion, lest there be diffusion and indefiniteness, instead of increase of mental [Page 160] power. Consider this by the simile of a camera. If you take a square box, take out the bottom and replace it with ground glass, or unglazed paper, and make a very small hole in the lid, then stand it on its side and look at the paper, you will see upon it an image of the object that lies before the camera. That is because the same picture always appears at both ends of a ray of light. Have you noticed in summer the sun shining upon the ground through the many shaped but small interstices of thick foliage? The spots are elliptical or round, because they are each an image of the sun.

If you made the hole bigger and bigger, gradually your picture would become blurred and then disappear, because from every point of the object rays of light go in every direction, and when you make the hole larger the spots of light overlap and so obscure one another.

The body of man is like the camera box, and the senses are like pin-holes or lenses which let into his mind pictures of the objects around him. There is one great difference, however, between the plate of the camera and the mind of man — man has memory, by which he continues the images, and reflection, by which he considers them in relation to one another, and forms his own plans.

This limitation of the senses is not an injury to man, but a benefit, for senses and mind are adapted to each other. If we could suddenly increase the input of the senses a hundredfold, men would become gibbering idiots, unable to cope with such a volume of fact. As it is, the limitation of material that the senses provide is beneficial, as conducive to clarity of impression in the mind, just as the smallness of the hole in the camera provides a clear picture on the plate.

All the same, clear impressions clearly observed by the concentrated mind can become the material for that mind to work upon by meditation, which involves expansion, and increases the power of the mind to grasp clearly more things at once [Page 161]

Success in meditation therefore implies success in concentration, and in those things which are necessary to that, namely, relaxation of the body, indifference for the time being to what is happening near at hand or far away, emotional calm, and gentleness of vision.

A man concentrating is almost asleep bodily, but his consciousness in the brain is more than ever wide awake. In meditation that wide awake consciousness applies itself to the subject of thought. Meditation is the very opposite of going to sleep. It is a regular flow of thought about an object with regard to which one has no difficulty in concentration. It is not like mind-wandering, in which the chain of thought leads over the hills and far away, and it is not like worry, in which one arrives again and again at the same point, having traveled in a circle.

Meditation is a great act of self-creation. The vivid consciousness obtained in concentration, carried by meditation into the yet unirrigated and finer fields of the mind, is like an open channel for more life. No man has life as full as that which could be his. All men have a hunger for more sense of life. Sometimes ignorant people seek its satisfaction in outward excitement, not realizing that to be a surrender of real life, and an acknowledgment of dependence upon outside things — not upon what is inside the mind itself — for real happiness and life.

In meditation a man may reach conceptions of beauty, or duty, or truth or the grandeur of noble character, loftier than any he has obtained before. As he dwells upon them, they work into him in a creative way, so that afterwards he will be able to reach and hold the higher level with comparative ease.

The object of meditation is not to bring something down, as it were, for the satisfaction of our old personality. It is to take something up, to reach in our thought or feeling something that we have not touched before, and yet to carry up [Page 162] there the clearness of vision that was ours at the lower levels.

We must take ourselves up. The self that seeks only consolation for the troubles in life, or a pleasant emotional sensation of confidence in something higher than itself, may possess and enjoy its own meagre delights in an inferior sort of meditation that is hardly worthy of the name.

Grateful and comfortable, he of this meditation is like a cat purring in a person's arms, enjoying the luxury of attention from a superior being. But meditation proper is for him who would humanize himself to a higher degree, expand his heart and intelligence, and increase his practical capacity — things which contain the happiness of true life, positive and active, far above the comforts and consolations and hoping’s which are the resort of many who seek in the mind what they have failed to secure in life.

I hope that my exposition of the theory of meditation has shown that it is not different from thinking, when that is properly done. Suppose that a student has before him a theorem in geometry. To prove it he must think. First — if he knows how to think, or meditate — he will dwell for a while on his data. This is the preliminary concentration — to review the material provided for his thinking. He must be in a position to remember the properties of the lines, angles, triangles, and circles, or whatever they may be. Then, and only then, should he begin the expansion process of considering their relation to one another under the given conditions. I have known many students much troubled by geometry, and I have noticed that in most cases it is because they do not know how to think, and so do not first review the data and only afterwards try to solve the problem or prove the theorem.

At the end of a process of thinking, the conclusion ought to be as clear and certain as the terms from which it is derived. Later that conclusion should be available as simple and self-evident material for further and deeper study. All [Page 163] the time the thinker or the student is really engaged in making platforms for himself, and then climbing on to them and using them for the building of still higher platforms.

In thinking, we often proceed from the concrete to the abstract. To know beauty we must dwell on objects of beauty.

This principle is very evident in the use of meditation for the development of character. There would be little use in sitting down, closing the eyes and saying over and over again: "Courage, courage, courage" or "Kindness, kindness, kindness". If people do not know what the dials of their watches look like, still less do they know what ideals or virtues really are. They must begin the meditation with concrete examples.

Having chosen the virtue that you want to build into your character, first of all make mental pictures of the virtue in action. If it is courage, make several pictures representing that quality — perhaps a soldier rescuing a wounded comrade under fire; an invalid in pain and wretchedness, but making little of his or her misery, so as not to convey it to others; a person bound to some duty that is drudgery, but carrying it through cheerfully; an artist or a poet who will not give up his love, regardless of the unkind face of fortune; a reformer, whose talents might make him a shining light in politics were he to compromise, but he will not.

With the aid of these concrete examples, improve your conception of the abstract virtue. In the process, make your pictures clear and living, concrete and detailed, solid as a drama on a stage, not flat like a picture on a wall.

Next build the quality into your own character by stepping up on to the stage, as it were, entering the body of the hero, acting and feeling and realizing the scene as a living incident in your own life, and resolving to be that character henceforth.

There is a more passive kind of meditation in which one [Page 164] does not think directly of the building of character, but simply dwells in thought — expanding it to the full — upon some person looked upon as ideal, or upon some symbolic form. This method is carried to great perfection among the Hindus, who meditate upon the 1008 names — really qualities — of Shiva or of Vishnu, or upon images with many symbols — numerous heads and arms bearing weapons and other objects and making significant gestures, all symbolical of powers and virtues and benevolent intentions.

The idea is that one becomes like that upon which the mind dwells, and so absorbs into one's own character the good qualities represented by the symbols or words.

This method is suitable for consolidating in character qualities already known, not for advancing to new heights. The image is really a mnemonic device, a "house" or set of pegs for remembering a collection of powers and virtues. It cannot show anything new, for the imagination cannot portray what is not known. It is quite possible to picture a gesture as indicating benevolence, but the idea of benevolence may remain very imperfect unless one considers it practically in actual expression in varying circumstances in human life. To have virtue we need to keep very near to our fellow-men, with all their faults.

Sometimes there is meditation upon superior beings, supposed real — heroes, angels, saints, masters, and divine incarnations. In this case there are several dangers to be carefully avoided. In great admiration for the qualities of these, pictured as exceptional beings, there is often the feeling that such perfection can hardly be expected in us ordinary people. This reduces the character-building effect, and also tends to a harsh judgment of our fellow-men, since they, too, are ordinary people, and to them therefore we do not easily attribute the virtues predicated of our beloved ideal.

There is also a tendency to slacken effort and be content [Page 165] with relatively negative virtues in ourselves — a feeling that since the object of devotion has the virtues and the power we may be content with a lower grade.

There may also be something of the attitude of the football or cricket enthusiasts who go by the hundreds of thousands to see the matches and admire the players, without any serious intention to become such players themselves.

It is, however, in ordinary life that we develop our qualities, and our meditation as a science is best kept very close to that.

Let us now pass on to the art of contemplation.

The fulfilment of meditation is contemplation. As concentration leads on to meditation, so does meditation lead on to contemplation, which may be defined as concentration at the top end of one's line of thought.

Just as it is not well to begin meditation suddenly, but it is best to sit down and quietly bring the attention to the chosen subject — first of all thinking of a large scene and then narrowing down gradually to the special object, and then meditating upon it — so it is not well to end a meditation abruptly.

At a certain point one must stop the flow of thought and dwell for a short time with clear-sighted and calm vision upon the best thing that one has been able to reach. It may be that you have reached a height or depth of thought beyond which you cannot go on to any advantage. At this point your attention begins to waver, your mind begins to lose its hold. Do not then try to go further; do not desperately try to clutch or grasp that splendid conception or vision that is flickering just beyond your reach. Stop where you are and gaze contentedly at the highest you have been able clearly to attain. That is contemplation.

It will often happen that this highest conception has not been the consecutive outcome of your meditative process, but while you were going on with that a new idea burst upon [Page 166] you in a flash of inspiration. Then you may stop the meditation and give your whole attention to the contemplation of that greatest thing. Such contemplation creates new platforms on which consciousness can stand, so that when you come round again to deal with that deepest thought you will find that it is easier to hold, and that your meditation can be carried further still.

It often happens in daily life that those who are given to meditation catch sudden glimpses of great truths, or splendid ideas, which carry with them some inexplicable evidence of their own accuracy, and one thinks them wonderfully simple, and says to oneself: "Now why on earth did I never think of that or hear about it before ? " But beware; if you do not keep your attention on that idea, simple as it is, it will be gone from you very soon and you will be unable to recover its message. It is, alas, true that you must imprison it in a form of words. A great truth put into words is like a bird kept in a cage; some like its song, but it has not quite the note of liberty, the quality of life. Still, write it down, and make it the subject of future meditation.

Even in dealing with scientific subjects, which have not a quality of appeal to high emotion, the same operation appears. Many of the greatest discoveries in science have come in moments of inspiration, when their authors have thought long and deeply on the subject and then given up the effort as a failure, at least for the time being.

In any systematic attempt at contemplation three stages should be followed —

(I) the attention must be centered on the object;
(2) thought must be active with reference to that object alone;
(3) the mind must remain actively centred on the object while its ordinary activities cease.

In the last stage we stop all comparing and reasoning and remain with the attention fixed actively upon the object, [Page 167] trying to penetrate the indefiniteness which for us then appears to surround it.

It will be seen that in contemplation there is nothing in the nature of sleep or mental inactivity, but an intense search; you make an effort to see in the indefiniteness something definite, and refuse for the time being to descend to the ordinary regions of conscious activity in which your sight is normally clear and precise. You concentrate again, but this time at the top end of your line of thought. [Page 171]

Hidden treasure does not reveal itself by your simply commanding: "Come out!" You must find the place, remove the stones, and dig. [Page 180]

THERE are many very excellent exercises for the purpose of keeping the body fit. Some of them are positively necessary for the student who is inclined to be sedentary. The effect of the mind on the bodily functions cannot safely be ignored by anyone who takes up mental training. In concentration of mind, for example, there is a tendency to halt the breath outside the body; I know one student who was occasionally recalled to the fact that he had forgotten to breathe in by suddenly choking. So a few suitable breathing exercises will not be out of place in this book.

On the other hand, the restlessness of the body sometimes spoils our mental work. So for the successful practice of concentration it is desirable to train the body to remain quiet.

People who are mentally disposed are often inclined to be somewhat nervous. Therefore a little attention in this connection may also be in place here. And finally, control of the senses, so that you can curb their restlessness and turn your attention away from their messages at will, is also a useful accomplishment.

I will therefore offer the student a few exercises along these lines.

Stillness. Perhaps you have never sat for a few minutes without moving. Try it now. Try to sit quite still for five or ten minutes, without supporting the back above the waist, with the eyes closed, without feeling either restless or sleepy.

You will probably be surprised to find in what a variety of ways your body will rebel, and in how many parts of it there will be strange creeping and twitching feelings. As [Page 181] a remedy for this I recommend the following standing exercise:

Go into a room where you will not be disturbed, and stand erect, preferably before a long mirror, with a clock or watch in sight. Stand perfectly still for five minutes. The eyes may blink; no attention need be paid to them. The body must not be allowed to sway, nor the fingers to twitch; and no notice must be taken of any slight sensations. The mind may occupy itself in thinking in turn of the different parts of the body, and seeing that they are still. Probably the little fingers, or the shoulders, or some other part of the body will ache, but no attention need be paid to them. Practice this for about five minutes daily.

Relaxation. That exercise should be supplemented by the practice of relaxation, intended to relieve tension in the body. To get the feeling of relaxation try the following experiment:

With the right hand hold a book firmly in front of the chest. Raise the left elbow almost as high as the shoulder, and let the left hand and wrist rest on the book, so that the left forearm is about horizontal. By imagination or thought slowly withdraw the energy of the left arm till you feel that there is no life in it, that it is quite relaxed. Then suddenly drop the book. If the left arm falls as though lifeless, you have succeeded in relaxing. This experiment will be better done if someone else holds the book for you, and removes it without warning.

Another way of performing this experiment is to stand close to a chest of drawers or other similar object on which you can comfortably rest your arm and hand, from elbow to finger tips. Relax the arm and then step back smartly. If you have relaxed properly the arm will fall inert, by its own weight.

Having thus learned what relaxation feels like, you need not repeat the experiment, but proceed as follows: Lie down flat on your back on the floor or on a board (not on a bed or couch) and try to sink into it, as if it were soft. This will give [Page 182] you a luxurious feeling of relaxation of the whole body. It is a good plan to stretch the body, then the neck, then let it go loose and relax the body part by part, beginning at the feet and going up to the head. To relax the eyes — an important matter — imagine black. It is good to relax in this manner at night, before going to sleep.

As an extreme measure, if necessary, one may learn relaxation by sleeping for a few nights on a table, with only a sheet between the body and the board, that is, with nothing to soften the surface. It is possible to go to sleep in a soft bed without being relaxed, but it is not so easy to do so on a board. On the hard surface you must relax in order to be comfortable. Then, when you know what the mood of relaxation is like, and you can do it at will, it will be permissible to revert to the soft bed.

Stretching and Bending Exercises. To the standing and relaxing exercises the following stretching and bending exercises may be added, for general health —

Stand with the heels together; raise the hands above the head; bend forward to touch the toes without bending the knees; return to the upright position, reaching as high as possible, standing on the toes.

Stand with the hands at the sides, palms inwards; lean over slowly to one side until the hand sinks below the knee, while the other hand is curled up under the armpit; slowly swing back to the opposite side, stretching the body all the time.

Perform these exercises with an even movement and concentrated thought, for about one minute each. Finally stand, raise one foot from the floor by bending the knee; now raise the other and lower the first, and thus run for one minute, without moving along.

Nerve Exercises. Let us now turn to the nerve exercises. These are done either by holding a part of the body still and preventing it from trembling or by moving it very slowly and [Page 183] evenly. Hold out the hand with the fingers a little apart and watch them intently. They move a little, and you begin to feel a kind of creaking inside the joints. Try to keep them perfectly still by an effort of the will. After a few minutes they begin to tingle, and you may feel a leakage at the ends, as though something were going off. Send this back up the arm and into the body by the will.

Next, stand before a large mirror, and move the arm by imperceptible degrees from the side into a horizontal position in front. It should move without any jerking and so slowly that you can scarcely see it moving.

Again, sit with your back to the light, facing a large object, such as a bookcase. Without moving your head, start at one corner of the object and let your eyes move, without jumping, very slowly round the outline of it and along its prominent lines, back to the original point. These three exercises may take about five minutes each, and should be done on successive days.

Breathing Exercises. I do not recommend elaborate breathing exercises, such as that of breathing in at one nostril and out at the other. Our object is only to learn regular breathing with the full use of the lungs, so that there may be a good habit during study or concentration. So I suggest only the following simple practices:

Draw the breath in slowly and evenly, through both nostrils, while mentally counting eight, or for five seconds; hold it in while counting eight; and breathe out slowly and evenly while counting eight. Repeat this eight times.

While the breath is in the body it should not be held with the throat muscles, but by holding the chest muscles out and the diaphragm down by an act of will. To cork the breath in at the throat is injurious. The whole process should be easy, pleasant and natural.

Gently draw the lungs full of air, and then, holding the breath as before, press the breath down as low as possible [Page 184] in the body by sinking the diaphragm. Then press the air up into the chest (without raising or moving the shoulders) so that the abdomen goes in. Thus press the air up and down, slowly and deliberately, five or six times, and then slowly and gently breathe out.

Inhale the breath as before, press it down as low as possible, and draw in more air, so that both the lower and the upper parts of the lungs are filled tight. Then suck in and swallow more air through the mouth until you feel slight muscular discomfort. Release the air slowly, from the chest first.

These breathing exercises help to make the body bright and cheerful, and to counteract the natural suspension of breath outside the body which often occurs during strong concentration of mind, as distinguished from the suspension of breath inside the body which accompanies physical effort.

If carried on for too long at one time they tend to inhibit its sensibility.

Pratyahara. I will conclude these exercises by mention of the practice of inattention, known among Indian yogis as pratyahara. It is well known that often when we are reading a book, or listening to music, or looking at a beautiful object, we become inattentive to all but that in which we are interested. In all such cases many things are battering on the senses, a person may enter the room and go out again, a tram-car may go howling and screeching and thundering past, but you have not seen or heard. Vibrations from these things entered the eye and ear, and the messages traveled along the nerves to the appropriate centers in the brain, but you did not see or hear because your attention was turned away.

How vibrations of matter in the brain are converted into sense-perceptions in consciousness has always been a mystery to the psychologist, but the theory of knowledge does not concern us at present.

The practical point is that the translation of vibrations [Page 185] into perceptions is within the power of our will. We can practice deliberate inattention to objects before our eyes. I am writing these words on a bit of paper on a blue writing pad. I find it quite possible to lose sight of the pad as well as my pen, by particular attention to what I am thinking, without turning my eyes away. Similarly it is possible to listen to the ticking of a clock or the sound of the wind in the trees, and then forget them while concentrating on some idea.

I knew a man who used frequently to lecture on platforms on which he was preceded by musical items. If, while waiting for his turn, he wished to reflect upon some point of his lecture, he could turn his attention to it while the music was going on, and deliberately turn it away from the music. The result was that after a moment or two he heard the sounds no more, and was able to examine his ideas as though he had been alone in his room or in the depths of a forest.

Aimé Paris, 112
Alphabets, foreigh, method of learning, 39
Ashtavadhanis, the memory feats of, 128
Association, 60
Association, ill, 88
Attention, 18, 90, 92, 93, 96, 166

Beniowski, Major, 29
Bodily aids, 180-185
Botany, 48

Causality, 74
Character, 173
Chemistry, 63
Chess, 4, 17 128
Class, law of, 7, 76
Co-existence and succession, 80
Comparison, 9, 75
Comparison, modes of, 73 -80
Complex abstract ideas, 24
Complex concrete ideas, 24
Concentration, 6, 11-20, 90, 146. 151-157, 159, 180
Confidence, 18
Contemplation, 165
Contiguity, 75, 80
Cotrast, 8
Control of the mind, 92

Dickens, Charles 57

Emerson and reading, 137
Exercises, 25, 98, 100, 115, 151-157
Exercises, breathing, 183
Exercises, nerves, 182
Exercises, relaxation, 181
Exercises, stillness, 180
Exercises, stretching and bending, 182
Expectancy, sbuconscious, 63

Familiarization, method of, 29-38
Familiarization of forms, 39-49
Familiarization of words, 50-56
Fera, 174
Feinaigle, Gregor von, 68, 111, 122
Forget, ability to, 85
French words, learning, 50, 84
Foreighn alphabets, 39
Foreigh words, 50-56

Genders, remembering, 5
German words, learning, 50
Gouraud, FRancis Fauvel, 112, 117, 118, 123
Greek, 41
Grey, Dr.Richard, 111

Hebrew Alphabet, 39
Hindu probers, 179
History of Mnemonics, 120
Hobbies, mental, 139

Ideas, 24, 91
Ideas, associating, 61
Ideas, dissociated, 87
Ideas, expansion of, 100-102
Ideas, linking, 82
Ideas, quantity and position of, 66
Ideas, radiation of, 62
Ideas, sequences of, 87
Ideas, succession of, 96
Ill-associations, 88
Images, 63
Imagination, 23-28
Impressions, reviving, 60
Indecision in small things, 161
India, memory-mem of, 128-134
Intermediaries, 59

Leibnitz, G.W., 111
Lithium, discovery of, 143

Meditation, 90, 158-167
Memoria Technica, 111
Memory, 141
Memory, feats of the Ashiavadhanis, 128
Memory, placing the, 120-127
Memory, projection of, 57-64
Mind control, 92
Mind-wandering, 6, 90
Mink, Stanislaus, 111
Mood, 94-99
Mood, establishing a permanent, 98
Mood, reviving a, 60

New Art of Memory, 68
Nicholas Nickleby, 57
Notebooks, 59
Number arguments, 105-110
Number diagrams, 107-110
Number, words, 111-119
Numbers, remembering, 105

Observation, 14
Olcott, Colonel H.S., 128

Padereski, 177
Parts, law of, 7, 77
Phreno-Mnemotecny, 117
Pick, Dr., 55, 112, 120
Pitman's shorthand, 41
Poetry, the learning of, 150
Pratyahara, 184
Proximity, law of, 8, 80

Quality, law of, 8, 79
Quintillian, 121

Reading and study, 137-47
Reason, 73
Reflection, voluntary, 158
Roads of Thought, the 7, 9, 53, 76, 100, 149
Roman alphabet, 42

Sanskrit, 91, 112, 128
Sanskrit alphabet, 41, 113
Schencke Lambert, 126
Simple abstract ideas, 24
Simple concrete ideas, 24
Simplification and symbolization, 65-69
Simonides, 65. 120
Sommer, 126
Speech-making and writing, 148-150
Stillness exercises, 180
Study and reading, 137-147
Success, elements of, 173

Thinking, 23, 90, 162
Thought and walking, 89
Thought, process of, 90, 94
Thought, Roads of, the four, 7, 9, 53, 76, 100, 149
Thoughts, chain of, 94

Voluntary decision, 171
Voluntary reflection, 158

Will, the, 90
Will, uses of, 171-179
Willing and wishing, 175
Willis, John, 65
Wishing and willing, 175
Work and play, 177
Writing and speech-making, 148-150