Whatever was the cause in that case, it is entirely conceivable that a man may look forward to a social event with keen anticipation, but may also have work on hand that occupies his mind, and which he is anxious to finish. In such a case the conflict is between enjoyable thoughts, and the final repression is motived by other causes than the disagreeable. To say that the greater zest for the one than the other makes one, by comparison, unpleasant, is only playing with words. But, notwithstanding criticism, Freud's contribution is of inestimable value. He has gone below the general causes of forgetfulness, and shown that there are specific motives which may be discovered, and one of these motives, perhaps the most frequent, he has isolated and examined.1

Memory, then, is a process-a complex nervous process -and, like all processes, it can be furthered or hindered. The inclusion of conscious experience in the definition of memory, as when we say that to be remembered an event must be recognized as a part of our past experience, limits it by definition to the facts which have been in our personal consciousness. It begs the question. All experiential modifications of the nervous system which are retained and can be reproduced so as to exert an influence upon subsequent action are memory. As a matter of fact, conscious memory is only one type of memory. Many experiences which do not become a part of our conscious mental content influence our actions as truly as those of which we are aware. Our "feeling" and "intuitions" regarding people are illustrations. We are convinced that a man is not frank and open, but can give no reason for our belief. The only intelligible explanation for this conviction is that some look or movement, or something else in his past relations with us, made an impression without coming into clear consciousness. So-called organic memory, with all of its ramifications, is an illustration in a wider field.

1 An unusually clear statement of Freud's theory, by Doctor Ernest Jones, may be found in the British Journal of Psychology, vol. 8, p. 33.

Then, again, the actions of the lower animals are suggestive. Feed a dog an appetizing dish made intensely bitter, and he is likely soon after to decline the food served in the same way but without the bitter ingredient. Is this not memory? Yet few would say that the dog consciously recalled his past experience.

This view of memory brings it into line with the curious instances that we have quoted, and in which the element of "recognition" did not enter. Considering memory as a process, all of these facts seem clear. A nervous process has varying degrees of intensity. Some are too weak to become factors in consciousness, though they may exert an influence upon the individual; indeed, later, they may rise above the level of consciousness. This is seen in those occasional moments when one is spoken to while reading an interesting book. A person thus absorbed does not hear the words, does not even know that he is addressed. Yet half an hour later he may suddenly become aware of the fact. There are all sorts of memory variants, some of which are so spectacular as to suggest occult explanations to those seeking supernatural causes. But these unusual variants can be matched by facts from every-day life which, because of their commonness, are not believed to require an explanation.

Memory regarded as a process is also consistent with the strange cases of forgetfulness to which reference has been made. A nervous impulse traversing certain pathways is exposed to many interferences. Disturbance of nervous processes has been proven in such cases as associative and reproductive inhibition, and in assuming further conflicts and repressions we are only enlarging the field of interference. Memory and forgetfulness are evidently subject to certain principles, some of which have already been discovered; and to the extent to which they are known memory can be improved. To this phase of the subject we accordingly turn.

CHAPTER VII

MEMORY AND ITS IMPROVEMENT

WE have been speaking of certain special and unusual cases of recall of past experience. They are significant for the psychology of memory, but for the affairs of every-day life the practical question is, How may one's own memory be made efficient? In answering this question we should constantly bear in mind that an efficient memory is selective. It does not reproduce past experiences impartially. Certain facts which we have observed, heard, or read are important for the matter in hand, and other things, however much they may bear on other questions, have no present significance. If one will notice the arguments and statements of others, one cannot fail to observe the devious mental wanderings from the point. George Meredith gives a good illustration in Evan Harrington. Evan, when horseback riding, discovered Polly Wheedle shivering under a bush in the rain:

"Bellowing against the thunder, Evan bade her throw back her garment and stand and give him her arms, that he might lift her on the horse behind him.

"There came a muffled answer, on a big sob, as it seemed. And as if heaven paused to hear, the storm was mute. "Could he have heard correctly? The words he fancied he had heard sobbed were:

"Best bonnet . . . "

"Evan stooped his shoulder, seized the soaked garment, and pulled it back, revealing the features of Polly Wheedle. “Oh, Mr. Harrington; oh, ain't I punished!' she whimpered.

"And what have you been doing to be punished? What brought you here?' said Evan.

"Somebody drove me to Fallowfield to see my poor sister Susan,' returned Polly, half crying.

"Well, did he bring you here and leave you?'

"No; he wasn't true to his appointment the moment I wanted to go back; and I, to pay him off, I determined I'd walk it where he shouldn't overtake me, and on came the storm. And my gown spoilt and such a bonnet!'

...

"Who was the somebody?'

"He's a Mr. Nicholas Frim, sir.'

"Mr. Nicholas Frim will be very unhappy, I should think.'

"Yes, that's one comfort,' said Polly ruefully, drying her eyes.

"You look very pretty.'

"I can see myself a fright, like my Miss Rose did, making a face in the looking-glass when I was undressing her last night.'

"My Miss Rose-what was I going to tell? Oh!-my Miss Rose. You must know, Mr. Harrington, she's very fond of managing; I can see that, though I haven't known her long before she gave up short frocks; and she said to Mr. Laxley, who's going to marry her some day, "She didn't like my lady, the Countess, taking Mr. Harry to herself like that." I can't abear to speak his name, but I suppose he's not a bit more selfish than the rest of men. So Mr. Laxley said-just like the jealousy of men-they needn't talk of women! I'm sure nobody can tell what we have to put up with. We mustn't look out of this eye, or out of the other, but they're up and-oh, dear me! there's such a to-do as never was known-all for nothing!

"My good girl!' said Evan, recalling her to the subjectmatter with all the patience he could command.

"Where was I?' Polly travelled meditatively back. 'I do feel a little cold.""

Evidently, recalled thoughts-memory-need direction and guidance. What is it that guides? It is the thought about which we are conversing-the central idea around which related memories should cluster. The material from which this selection is made comes, of course, from past experience; but experience is always varied. Every idea has been connected with many others. And it is here that the purpose of the moment plays its controlling part when it is kept rigorously in mind. The failure to keep to the point to progress in one's thinking and talking-is commonly caused by carelessly losing the thread of conversation or thought.

Naturally, much depends upon the intensity of the impressions, and for deepening the impress, repetition, recency, vividness, and the number of associations focussing upon the idea or event that is to be remembered are important. Retention, after the impression has been made, is determined by the quality of brain-tissue. Consequently, any improvement here is produced indirectly. As in other mental matters the effect of hygienic living cannot be overestimated. A vigorous metabolism, by rapid elimination of the waste products caused by wear and tear, and by rebuilding the nervous structures, continually rejuvenates the tissues and keeps them "fit." The effect of this is appreciated when destruction of tissue exceeds construction, as when one becomes "worn out" from overwork, lack of exercise, or from temporary fatigue. The mind, and with it the memory, then refuse to work. The psychological significance of what has been said in earlier chapters about exercise, food, and fatigue is therefore obvious.

In the last analysis, however, we must accept our braintissue as it is and endeavor to make the most of it. After hygienic living, improvement of memory requires conform