Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Memory
MEMORY.
MEMORY is that retentive power of the mind, by which it preserves the ideas and impressions it has received. It is of great importance in all the various employments and professions of mankind, and may be easily weakened by neglect, or strengthened at pleasure. It is more under our control than the powers of perception, fancy, or imagination, and ought therefore to be cultivated, to counteract the inequality which these must otherwise occasion; since their possessors would have a great variety of original and brilliant ideas, even without external advantages, industry, or unusual degrees of application. It is so much in the power of all, to fix firmly in their minds what they have once admitted there, that some moral philosophers have asserted that memory is only a habit of fixed attention; and that though we cannot always acquire what we wish, we may always remember what we please. This theory is supported by instances of persons who have received from nature a very weak memory, yet by study and application have strengthened it to every useful and laudable purpose. Without this faculty, knowledge loses its value; education becomes ineffectual, and it is impossible to excel in any literary department.
Careful study, and constant practice, are necessary to mature it where it exists, and to acquire it where it does not; and ideas are thus arranged, consolidated, and treasured in the secret recesses of the mind, to be brought forth for future use, ornament, or delight. That ready recollection by which the knowledge possessed is brought into immediate exercise, as momentary exigences may require, is a different department of memory; more complicated, and less easily acquired. This requires judgment to select wisely from the store-house of the mind, and promptness to apply what is selected, at the moment when it will produce the best effect.
As the want of this is most deeply realized in society, so it is most easily acquired by free and rational conversation. Were the importance of this qualification sufficiently considered, it would more frequently turn the unprofitable channel of discourse, and introduce subjects which might at once draw forth, and enrich the latent treasures of the mind. The first act of the memory compares, compounds, and secures a stock of ideas, the other selects from that stock whatever may entertain, convince, or instruct others. But if this latter exercise of memory is peculiarly useful to those who associate much with the world, its most pleasing office is to lead the mind through the cells which she has stored, or the gardens which she has planted, that it may collect sweetness, or study wisdom, or refresh itself after the cares and perplexities of life.
Memory is also a criterion of moral taste: For the mind will cherish those ideas that are most congenial to it; and if those which frequently recur leave the deepest impressions, it follows that what is most congenial to the taste, we remember best. Thus we often meet with one who remembers, accurately and with ease, historical facts, ancient or modern; another, dates and eras; a third, revolutions and conspiracies. There are some who have stored their memories with biographical sketches and moral essays, or the various departments of narrative and poetry; while others are wholly absorbed in the passing events of the day, the variations of the political atmosphere, the fluctuations of society, pieces cf scandal, fashions, manners and amusements; unconscious that they are holding up to an attentive observer, a mirror of their own intellectual habits, and a key to unlock the secret cabinet of the mind.
Memory is also valuable as a source of intellectual delight. When affliction has embittered the present, or age cast its shade over the future, it presents in the past, a picture at once consolatory and alluring. Thus we find the aged invariably attached to the days that are gone, more than to those that are passing, or to come; even recollected pain loses its anguish, and the traces of memory though broken and imperfect are delightful to the eye that has grown dim to the illusions of hope. But to us, my young friends, who have never felt affliction to disgust us with life, or age to paralize the ardour of fancy, still to us memory opens a full source of pleasure.
Between the disputed pleasures of memory and anticipation, I do not hesitate to give a decided preference to the first. One presents a vivid picture of the future; the other a faithful transcript of the past. The brilliancy of the first attracts for a time, but reason perceives it to be drawn by the mutable pencil of fancy, that the curtain of futurity rests upon it, and involves it in darkness. She looks on the tablet of memory; its traces are less glaring, but more perfect; they dazzle less, but are not fictitious. One charms us while we are under the sway of fancy, the other while we are controlled by reason; and we are taught to feel those to be the highest pleasures, which are tasted by a mind rational and serene. On this part of the subject, I will borrow the beautiful expressions of a poet:
"Lighter than air, hope's summer visions fly,
"If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky,
"If but a beam of sober reason play,
"Lo, fancy's fairy frost-work melts away.
"But can the wile of art, the grasp of power,
"Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour?
"These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight,
"Pour round her path a stream of living light,
"And gild those pure and perfect realms of rust,
"Where virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest."
To you, my young friends, who are acquiring an education, I cannot express the peculiar worth and importance of memory. Of what use will it be, to listen to, or repeat sentiments however good, if they pass away as soon as they are repeated? Of what advantage will it be that you acquire knowledge with facility, if the mind neglects to retain it? If you are sometimes excuseable for not learning with ease, you can never be so, for forgetting what you have learned, since that depends upon your own choice, and not on the peculiar construction of the mind. Make use of every expedient, therefore, to strengthen this important faculty. Give an undivided attention to what you wish to learn, and be not satisfied with once repeating a lesson but meditate upon its contents until they are firmly engraven on your mind. Accustom yourselves always to render an account of what you read, either to yourself, or to some other person. Every night examine what you have learned during the day; compare it with what you have previously acquired, and be not soon wearied with this exercise, for if you really wish to strengthen your memories, you will consider no exertion too laborious. Despise not to receive a lesson of wisdom even from inferior creatures. Does the ant when she has carefully collected her load, forget to deposit it in her granary? Of what advantage is it to the bee, that she selects the most fragrant flowers, that she is skilful in extracting their essence, that she bears a larger load than her companions, if when she reaches her cell she neglects to store her sweetness: You are now collecting stores of intellectual sweetness for the approaching winter of life, it may be a winter darkened with depression, infirmity, or sorrow. If you will then wish for internal resources, when the streams of external enjoyment have become embittered; if you will then need an asylum to retreat to, when the tempest of trouble is beating without, prepare now those resources, and furnish that asylum. Conquer now that folly and levity which will inscribe the tablet of remembrance, with traces not grateful to the calm eye of retrospection. Guard against associations of ideas which you would blush to pronounce, lest the pure sources of recollection should become polluted; and think no exertion too great to strengthen a talent which can cheer the days of depression and decline.
But do we not sometimes hear of the pains of memory? How can a faculty like this become painful to its possessor? Is it because it reminds us of past losses and disappointments? No! these the hand of time disarms of their anguish, and to the submissive mind they are converted into blessings. Is it the recollection of injuries or unkindness? No! these the Christian will repay with forgiveness and gentleness, and thus extract good out of evil. Is it then the remembrance of departed friends, who cherished and guided us, in the paths of rectitude and piety? We believe these have gone to a better country, and the hope of meeting them there, and the memory of their virtues, console the heart of the mourner. What then can excite the pains of memory; if it is neither loss, or disappointment, unkindness, injury, or the death of beloved friends? It is the recollection of time mispent, and of duty forsaken! These awaken the pang of memory, and turn the eye with terror from the past.
Guard faithfully, my dear young friends, these avenues of regret, and in every situation and circumstance of life you will be happy. Neither age, sorrow, or disappointment can destroy your peace of mind, if you are supported by the consciousness of having performed your duty.