Section 54. (c) The Peculiarities of Reproduction.
The differences in memory which men exhibit are not, among their
other human qualities, the least. As is well known, this difference
is expressed not only in the vigor, reliability, and promptness of
their memory, but also in the field of memory, in the accompaniment
of rapid prehensivity by rapid forgetfulness, or slow prehensivity
and slow forgetfulness, or in the contrast between narrow, but
intense memory, and broad but approximate memory.
Certain special considerations arise with regard to the field of
greatest memory. As a rule, it may be presupposed that a memory
which has developed with especial vigor in one direction has generally
done this at the cost of memory in another direction. Thus, as a
rule, memory for numbers and memory for names exclude each
other. My father had so bad a memory for names that very frequently
he could not quickly recall my Christian name, and I was
his own son. Frequently he had to repeat the names of his four
brothers until he hit upon mine, and that was not always a successful
way.[1] When
he undertook an introduction it was always: "My
honored m—m—m,"—"The dear friend of my youth
m—m—m." On the other hand, his memory for figures was
astounding. He noted and remembered not only figures that interested
him for one reason or another, but also those that had not the
slightest connection with him, and that he had read merely by
accident. He could recall instantaneously the population of countries
and cities, and I remember that once, in the course of an accidental
conversation, he mentioned the production of beetroot in a
certain country for the last ten years, or the factory number of my
watch that he had given me fifteen years before and had never
since held in his hand. He often said that the figures he carried
in his head troubled him. In this regard the symptom may be mentioned
that he was not a good mathematician, but so exceptional a
card player that nobody wanted to play with him. He noticed
every single card dealt and could immediately calculate what cards
each player had, and was able to say at the beginning of the game
how many points each must have.
Such various developments are numerous and of importance
for us because we frequently are unwilling to believe the witness
testifying in a certain field for the reason that his memory in another
field had shown itself to be unreliable. Schubert and Drobisch
cite examples of this sort of thing, but the observations of moderns,
like Charcot and Binet, concerning certain lightning calculators
(Inaudi, Diamandi, etc.), confirm the fact that the memory for figures
is developed at the expense of other matters. Linné tells that Lapps,
who otherwise note nothing whatever, are able to recognize individually
each one of their numberless reindeer. Again, the Dutch
friend of flowers, Voorhelm, had a memory only for tulips, but this
was so great that he could recognize twelve hundred species of tulips
merely from the dry bulbs.
These fields seem to be of a remarkably narrow extent. Besides
specialists (numismatists, zoologists, botanists, heralds, etc.) who,
apart from their stupendous memory for their particular matters,
appear to have no memory for other things, there are people who can
remember only rhymes, melodies, shapes, forms, titles, modes,
service, relationships, etc. V. Volkmar has devoted some space to
showing this. He has also called attention to the fact that the
semi-idiotic have an astounding memory for certain things. This
has been confirmed by other students. One of them,
Du Potet,[2] who
is perhaps the expert in the popular mind of the Austrian Alps,
has made it especially clear. As in all mountainous regions there
are a great number of those unfortunate idiots who, when fully developed,
are called cretins, and in their milder form are semi-human,
but do not possess intelligence enough to earn their own living.
Nevertheless, many of them possess astounding memories for certain
things. One of them is thoroughly conversant with the weather
prophecy in the calendar for the past and the present year, and can
cite it for each day. Another knows the day and the history of
every saint of the Catholic church. Another knows the boundaries
of every estate, and the name, etc., of its owner. Another knows each
particular animal in a collective herd of cattle, knows to whom it
belongs, etc. Of course not one of these unfortunates can read.
Drobisch mentions an idiotic boy, not altogether able to speak,
who, through the untiring efforts of a lady, succeeded finally in
learning to read. Then after hasty reading of any piece of printed
matter, he could reproduce what he had read word for word, even
when the book had been one in a foreign and unknown tongue.
Another author mentions a cretin who could tell exactly the birthdays
and death-days of the inhabitants of his town for a decade.
It is a matter of experience that the semi-idiotic have an excellent
memory and can accurately reproduce events which are really
impressive or alarming, and which have left effects upon them.
Many a thing which normal people have barely noticed, or which
they have set aside in their memory and have forgotten, is remembered
by the semi-idiotic and reproduced. On the contrary, the
latter do not remember things which normal people do, and which
in the latter frequently have a disturbing influence on the important
point they may be considering. Thus the semi-idiotic may be able
to describe important things better than normal people. As a rule,
however, they disintegrate what is to be remembered too much,
and offer too little to make any effective interpretation possible.
If such a person, e. g., is witness of a shooting, he notices the
shot only, and gives very brief attention to what precedes, what
follows, or what is otherwise contemporary. Until his examination
he not only knows nothing about it, but even doubts its occurrence.
This is the dangerous element in his testimony. Generally it is right
to believe his kind willingly. "Children and fools tell the truth,"
what they say bears the test, and so when they deny an event there
is a tendency to overlook the fact that they have forgotten a great
deal and hence to believe that the event had really not occurred.
Similar experiences are yielded in the case of the memory of
children. Children and animals live only in the present, because
they have no historically organic ideas in mind. They react directly
upon stimuli, without any disturbance of their idea of the past.
This is valid, however, only for very small children. At a later age
children make good witnesses, and a well-brought-up boy is the
best witness in the world. We have only to keep in mind that
later events tend in the child's mind to wipe out earlier ones of the
same kind.[3]
It used to be said that children and nations think
only of the latest events. And that is universally true. Just as
children abandon even their most precious toys for the sake of a
new one, so they tell only the latest events in their experience.
And this is especially the case when there are a great many facts—
e. g., repeated mal-treatment or thefts, etc. Children will tell only
of the very last, the earlier one may absolutely have disappeared
from the memory.
Bolton,[4] who has
made a systematic study of the memory of
children, comes to the familiar conclusion that the scope of memory
is measured by the child's capacity of concentrating its attention.
Memory and acute intelligence are not always cognate (the latter
proposition, true not for children alone, was known to Aristotle).
As a rule girls have better memory than boys (it might also be
said that their intelligence is generally greater, so long as no continuous
intellectual work, and especially the creation of one's own
ideas, is required). Of figures read only once, children will retain
a maximum of six. (Adults, as a rule, also retain no more.) The
time of forgetting in general has been excellently schematized by
Ebbinghaus. He studied the forgetting of a series of thirteen nonsense
syllables, previously learned, in such a way as to be able to
measure the time necessary to re-learn what was forgotten. At
the end of an hour he needed half the original time, at the end of
eight hours two-thirds of that time. Then the process of loss became
slower. At the end of twenty-four hours he required a third, at
the end of six days a fourth, at the end of a month a clear fifth,
of the time required at first.
I have tested this in a rough way on various and numerous persons,
and invariably found the results to tally. Of course, the
measure of time alters with the memory in question, but the relations
remain identical, so that one may say approximately how
much may be known of any subject at the end of a fixed time, if
only one ratio is tested. To criminalists this investigation of
Ebbinghaus' is especially recommended.
The conditions of prehensivity of particular instances are too
uncertain and individual to permit any general identifications or
differentiations. There are certain approximating propositions—
e. g., that it is easier to keep in mind rhymed verse than prose, and
definite rows and forms than block masses. But, on the one hand,
what is here involved is only the ease of memory, not the content
of memory, and on the other hand there are too many exceptions
—e. g., there are many people who retain prose better than verse.
Hence, it is not worth while to go further in the creation of such
rules. Forty or fifty years ago, investigations looking toward them
had been pursued with pleasure, and they are recorded in the journals
of the time.
That aged persons have, as is well known, a good memory for
what is long past, and a poor one for recent occurrences is not remarkable.
It is to be explained by the fact that age seems to be accompanied
with a decrease of energy in the brain, so that it no longer
assimilates influences, and the imagination becomes dark and the
judgment of facts incorrect. Hence, the mistakes are those of
apperception of new things,—what has already been perceived is
not influenced by this loss of energy.
Again, it should not rouse astonishment that so remarkable and
delicately organized a function as memory should be subject to
anomalies and abnormalities of all kinds. We must take it as a
rule not to assume the impossibility of the extraordinary phenomena
that appear and to consult the expert about
them.[5] The physician
will explain the pathological and pathoformic, but there is a series
of memory-forms which do not appear to be diseased, yet which are
significantly rare and hence appear improbable. Such forms will
require the examination of an experienced expert psychologist
who, even when unable to explain the particular case, will still be
able to throw some light on it from the literature of the subject.
This literature is rich in examples of the same thing; they have been
eagerly collected and scientifically studied in the earlier psychological
investigations. Modern psychology, unfortunately, does not study
these problems, and in any event, its task is so enormous that the
practical problems of memory in the daily life must be set aside for
a later time. We have to cite only a few cases handled in literature.
The best known is the story of an Irish servant girl, who, during
fever, recited Hebrew sentences which she had heard from a preacher
when a child. Another case tells of a very great fool who, during
fever, repeated prolonged conversations with his master, so that the
latter decided to make him his secretary. But when the servant got
well he became as foolish as ever. The criminalist who has the
opportunity of examining deeply wounded, feverish persons, makes
similar, though not such remarkable observations. These people
give him the impression of being quite intelligent persons who tell
their stories accurately and correctly. Later on, after they are
cured, one gets a different opinion of their intelligence. Still more
frequently one observes that these feverish, wounded victims know
more, and know more correctly about the crime than they are able
to tell after they have recovered. What they tell, moreover, is quite
reliable, provided, of course, they are not delirious or crazy.
The cases are innumerable in which people have lost their memory
for a short time, or for ever. I have already elsewhere mentioned
an event which happened to a friend of mine who received a sudden
blow on the head while in the mountains and completely lost all
memory of what had occurred a few minutes before the blow. After
this citation I got a number of letters from my colleagues who had
dealt with similar cases. I infer, therefore, that the instances in
which people lose their memory of what has occurred before the
event by way of a blow on the head, are
numerous.[6]
Legally such cases are important because we would not believe
statements in that regard made by accused, inasmuch as there
seems to be no reason why the events before the
wound should disappear,
just as if each impression needed a fixative, like a charcoal
drawing. But as this phenomenon is described by the most reliable
persons, who have no axe to grind in the matter, we must believe it,
other things being equal, even when the defendant asserts it. That
such cases are not isolated is shown in the fact that people who have
been stunned by lightning have later forgotten everything that
occurred shortly before the flash. The case is similar in poisoning
with carbonic-acid gas, with mushrooms, and in strangulation. The
latter cases are especially important, inasmuch as the wounded
person, frequently the only witness, has nothing to say about the
event.
I cannot omit recalling in this place a case I have already mentioned
elsewhere, that of Brunner. In 1893 in the town of Dietkirchen,
in Bavaria, the teacher Brunner's two children were murdered,
and his wife and servant girl badly wounded. After some time
the woman regained consciousness, seemed to know what she was
about, but could not tell the investigating justice who had been sent
on to take charge of the case, anything whatever concerning the
event, the criminal, etc. When he had concluded his negative
protocol she signed it, Martha Guttenberger, instead of Martha
Brunner. Fortunately the official noted this and wanted to know
what relation she had to the name Guttenberger. He was told
that a former lover of the servant girl an evil-mouthed fellow, was
called by that name. He was traced to Munich and there arrested.
He immediately confessed to the crime. And when Mrs. Brunner
became quite well she recalled accurately that she had definitely
recognized Guttenberger as the murderer.
[7]
The psychological process was clearly one in which the idea,
"Guttenberger is the criminal," had sunk into the secondary sphere
of consciousness, the subconsciousness,—so that it was only clear
to the real consciousness that the name Guttenberger had something
to do with the crime. The woman in her weakened mental condition
thought she had already sufficiently indicated this fact, so
that she overlooked the name, and hence wrote it unconsciously.
Only when the pressure on her brain was reduced did the idea that
Guttenberger was the murderer pass from the subconscious to the
conscious. Psychiatrists explain the case as follows:
The thing here involved is retrograde amnesia. It is nowadays
believed that this phenomenon in the great majority of cases occurs
according to the rule which defines traumatic hysteria, i. e., as ideogen.
The ideational complexes in question are forced into the subconsciousness,
whence, on occasion, by aid of associative processes,
hypnotic concentration, and such other similar elements, they can
be raised into consciousness. In this case, the suppressed ideational
complex manifested itself in signing the name.
All legal medicine discusses the fact that wounds in the head
make people forget single words. Taine, Guerin, Abercrombie, etc.,
cite many examples, and Winslow tells of a woman who, after considerable
bleeding, forgot all her French. The story is also told
that Henry Holland had so tired himself that he forgot German.
When he grew stronger and recovered he regained all he had forgotten.
Now would we believe a prisoner who told us any one of these
things?
The phenomena of memories which occur in dying persons who
have long forgotten and never even thought of these memories,
are very significant. English psychologists cite the case of Dr.
Rush, who had in his Lutheran congregation Germans and Swedes,
who prayed in their own language shortly before death, although
they had not used it for fifty or sixty years. I can not prevent myself
from thinking that many a death-bed confession has something to
do with this phenomenon.[8]
At the boundary between incorrect perception and forgetting
are those cases in which, under great excitement, important events
do not reach consciousness. I believe that the responsibility is
here to be borne by the memory rather than by sense-perception.
There seems to be no reason for failing to perceive with the senses
under the greatest excitement, but there is some clearness in the
notion that great excitement causes what has just been perceived
to be almost immediately forgotten. In my "Manual" I have
discussed a series of cases of this sort, and show how the memory
might come into play. None of the witnesses, e. g., had seen that
Mary Stuart received, when being executed, two blows. In the case
of an execution of many years ago, not one of those present could
tell me the color of the gloves of the executioner, although everyone
had noticed the gloves. In a train wreck, a soldier asserted
that he had seen dozens of smashed corpses, although only one
person was harmed. A prison warden who was attacked by an
escaping murderer, saw in the latter's hand a long knife, which turned
out to be a herring. When Carnot was murdered, neither one of
the three who were in the carriage with him, nor the two footmen,
saw the murderer's knife or the delivery of the blow, etc.
How often may we make mistakes because the witnesses—in
their excitement—have forgotten the most important things!
[[ id="n54.1"]]
Cf. S. Freud Psychopathologie des Alltagsleben.
[[ id="n54.2"]]
Du Potet: Journal du Magnetisme, V. 245.
[[ id="n54.3"]]
F. Kemsies Gedächtnis Untersuchungen an Schtüern. Ztsch. f.
pädago.
Psych. III, 171 (1901).
[[ id="n54.4"]]
T E. Bolton: The Growth of Memory in School Children. Am. Jour.
Psych. IV.
[[ id="n54.5"]]
L. Bazerque: Essai de Psychopathologie sur l'Amuesie Hystérique et
Epiléptique. Toulouse 1901.
[[ id="n54.6"]]
Cf. H. Gross's Archiv. I, 337.
[[ id="n54.7"]]
J. Hubert: Das Verhalten des Gedächtnisses nach Kopfverletzungen.
Basel, 1901.
[[ id="n54.8"]]
Cf. H. Gross's Archiv. XV, 123.