# Major Beniowski's Phrenotypics

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of the
AUTHOR'S PRELIMINARY LECTURE.
PHRENOTYPICS.
It is true, and known to all, that the present generation, as a body, has made astonishing progresses in increasing the stock of human knowledge, and also in communicating that knowledge to an endless number of individuals; but what is generally overlooked, and nevertheless true, is, that the present age, with age, with all its wonders, has, as yet, not succeeded in rendering any individual, taken singly, capable of acquiring a certain given amount of knowledge in a space of time shorter than that which was expended, for a similar purpose, by individuals of younger centuries. All that the modern academies can justly triumph in, is, that their extended walls contain new and improved classes of sciences, cheaper teachers, and a vast number of students; but the school-hours of these modern academies are not shorter than those of the academies of any of the past ages. Any student of the present times, although he may exult in the reflection that he works in society with millions instead of thousands, cannot avoid acknowledging that he is bound to work, for the acquisition of a certain measure of knowledge, just as many hours as his predecessors did for the same purpose. If there be any improvement in this respect, it is almost imperceptible, and entirely unbecoming the company of the steam-engine, the rail-road, or the Nassau balloon: it ​is a pigmy among such giants as the electro-type, the Daguerreo-type, or the telegraph. The steam-engine has shortened immensely the work-hours of the mechanical labourer; but she has done very little in the way of lessening the number of work-hours of the intellectual one: she brings, it is true, whole waggons of teachers to the most humble homes; but these teachers keep the boys at school as long as ever.
The individual student who wishes to furnish his brain with a steamo-stereotyped Bible, a steamo-stereotyped Euclid, a steamo-stereotyped Homer, or any other steamo-stereotyped knowledge, has to pay for it, in miles of his life, the same price as he would have paid centuries ago, for the conveyance of a similar weight to his brain, from a written Bible, a written Euclid, a written Homer, or any other written repository. Hence we do not happen to see men leave schools, colleges, or universities, and appear as doctors at the bar, the pulpit, or the bed of the sick, younger than their professional predecessors of times past: nay, we find them often come out into the world much older, and much shorter of embracing all the multiplied branches of their respective professions. It is also to this circumstance that we may chiefly trace the modern daily discords and strifes among men even of the same interests: but few of them can master the knowledge of everything constituting the compounded machinery of the present century. One individual knows one part of it, but knows very little or nothing of the rest of its wheels and levers: another knows another part only, and cannot, consequently, but have views very different from those of the first.
In a word, when we see that the things to be known increase rapidly, do we find the knowledge​appropriating powers of the brain keep pace with them? No: the natural powers of the brain remain stationary; and we have, as yet, neither lever nor steam to support them.
The only art which, in our opinion, has hitherto succeeded in really accelerating the acquisition, at least, of some parts of science, is, the art of memory, or MNEMONICS: and this is the art which we flatter ourselves we have reduced to principles, enlarged, and made applicable to almost every branch of human study. We sincerely believe we have improved it to a degree such as to authorise us to baptise it with the name of—"The PHRENOTYPING or BRAIN-PRINTING Method," on account of its direct and rapid working upon the sheets of the brain.
Phrenotypics, or our improved system of mnemonics, afford us certain tools and levers, through the medium of which we are enabled to engrave upon the brain, in a given time, more boldly and more deeply, a number of notions infinitely surpassing that which, unassisted by similar instruments, we could possibly undertake to trace upou the slippery sheets of the mind, even but faintly and indistinctly.
The limits of this text prevent us from quoting, here, all the authorities bearing upon the subject, and proving that there existed men who knew and made use of time-shortening contrivances for the working of the memory, which have since been neglected or lost; but the pointing to some striking historical facts, accompanied by our humble observations, will, we hope, be sufficient to invite the attention of the public to an object which we deem of unparalleled importance. We wish to see those who have adequate means and leisure of doing so, to make it out with precision. First, Who were the men who outraced others in the acquisition of ​knowledge? And, secondly, What were the means they made use of for that purpose? We do not allude here to the means inherent to the organization: we mean those only independent of the bounties of nature, and which, therefore, might be made available for every one.
For the solution of the first question, two data must be found out: (a) What was the absolute quantity of the stock they succeeded to store into their brains? And (b) What was the amount of time employed by them in performing such work? One of these data, be it ever so striking, could lead to no satisfactory conclusion. A man may boast to have walked round the globe, and still be a very slow traveller in comparison with a boy who never went farther than from London to Greenwich, but who did it in a few minutes; and so may a man at seventy be as learned as Cuvier, and still be a very slow student when compared with a youth who knows but one hundredth part of that erudition, but who learned it in a few months. In the next place, let it be inquired whether these young men perform their miracles as peculiar favourites of nature; or, simply, because they happened to avail themselves of some expedients which others do not know or have neglected. And should this last case, as we believe it, be made out, it will be against the nature of man not to bestir oneself to become acquainted with and make use of such expedients: one must be for that a celestial—an opium-eater—in a word, a Chinese; and, at any rate, he cannot be an Englishman. We hope an Englishman will really inquire, and not rely upon what these wonderful boys, or their parents, choose to tell us: they are always inclined to ascribe these performances to the agency of some peculiar incomprehensible power or genius, a thing which, of ​course, cannot be communicated. We invite to watch to try them, to analyze and anatomize them, before we come to believe in their sincerity: we will often find that their superiority consists simply in the knowledge they have of some contrivance, which might be, but which they do not wish to see, communicated to others.
Simonides, a lyric poet, who died 503 B. C., is related to have discovered the Art of Memory by chance. The principal expedient and foundation of his contrivances were derived from the association and localization of ideas. Next, we find that Aristotle, who died 322 B. C., has written a work entitled Mnemonicon, which has been lost. Cicero relates circumstantially and comments upon Simonides' Art (de Orat., lib. ii.): Pliny (Hist. Nat., lib. vii., cap. 24,) expressly names Metrodorus, a contemporary of Cicero, as the individual who first brought the art into a scientic form.
The usefulness of the art, as it can be acquired from the study of these fragments of antiquity, although often underrated and not propagated with sufficient energy, has never been denied; but let us see what was the degree of knowledge of those who most likely knew the whole of the ancient mnemonic art.
Aristotle's Mnemonicon is lost, but we know that it has existed; and we know, also, that the author of it, who surely has made use of his own levers, was an Aristotle; and we ask, Where is the man whose brain has embraced and retained such an ocean of notions as did Aristotle? Some of these may have been wrong; but the strength, the boldness, the originality, and, above all, the stupendous bulk of that man's knowledge, stand hitherto unequalled.
The pupil of Aristotle, for whom, surely, the ​mnemonicon was not yet lost, is Alexander the Great. He, Alexander, leaves Europe and traverses Asia and Egypt almost in one breath, crushing under his feet all and everything—mountains, forests, rivers, and nations; and what is the talisman of this extraordinary commander-in-chief? Certainly, not the superiority of his numbers, which never equalled one-fourth of his opponents: neither is it the peculiar destructiveness of his war-engines; we have no trace of it. What then? This This talisman talisman is nothing else but his tactical and strategical skill.
This military skill of a commander-in-chief and of his staff, at the head of such a gigantic expedition, consists mainly in the topographical and statistical knowledge they have of the theatre of war before them. In modern times, a number of individuals are trained for such an arduous task, and provided with ample means of familiarizing themselves, after a long series of years of study, with the languages and resources of countries even the most distant; and thus there are sets of men ready for every emergency: still the superiority in skill of one staff over another consists in the greater quickness with which they gather and familiarize their memory with the numerous new details that spring up daily, the knowledge of which is indispensable to the directing of the strategical and tactical movements of an army. But we cannot suppose that Alexander had such plans, maps, statistical tables, &c., of countries but very little known; and if he had them, he would not have had sufficient time to familiarize himself with them. His father, Philip, is chosen to lead the Greeks into Asia, is stabbed, and Alexander unexpectedly becomes commander-in-chief: we find him a commander-in-chief in reality, and far from being the puppet of his generals. He relies upon the resources ​of his own brain, and learns everything before him in galloping from the Hellespont to Alexandria, Jupiter Hammon, and the Ganges. He is soon everywhere at home, and everywhere successful, and still has time enough to be every day drunk, and to die at thirty-two. He could not have gone on at such a rate, without possessing some extraordinary memory. Some may believe that he was owing this memory to nature, which vouchsafed to make of him expressly a genius, a monster, perhaps a god: we say, most simply, he had his dear teacher's mnemonicon under his helm. We believe that it is to this science that Alexander alludes in his letter to Aristotle, written amidst his triumphs in Asia, when he heard that his instructer was to publish that part of knowledge which he did not communicate to the common scholar: here is the letter.
"Alexander to Aristotle, prosperity. "You did wrong in publishing the acroamatic parts of science. In what shall we differ from others, if the sublimer knowledge which we gained from you be made common to all the world? For my part, I had rather excel the bulk of mankind in superior parts of learning, than in the extent of power and dominion. Farewell!"
This gentle hint of the "little jealous student," explains sufficiently for the loss of the mnemonicon.
Another man, contemporary with the since-lost mnemonicon, and a fellow-student under Plato, with Aristotle, is Demosthenes; and no man can hitherto match him in his all-embracing eloquence. Every commis-voyageur, and every Billingsgate woman, are Demostheneses in their respective spheres, with the raw materials of which they are perfectly familiar; but to be eloquent in the station of a Demosthenes, amidst an Athenian republic corrupt by the gold of a neighbouring Philip of ​Macedon, requires a cranium which can find comfortable room for all the notions which cram, individually, the brains of a great many philosophers, linguists, generals, and politicians; not omitting, at the same time, to become familiarly acquainted with the tricks and artifices of a multitude of quacks, thieves, spies, masters, slaves, lovers, swindlers, &c.. Nor is it allowed to him to despise the humbler knowledge of the cobbler, the above fisherwoman, and another long series of specialities and individualities, old and young, male and female. It requires a great many years to digest all these heterogeneous materials, even at a time when we have such admirable machineries as encyclopædias, magazines, and newspap newspapers, to bring them ready baked and cooked, pieced and 1, pieced and peppered, straight into the interior of our cerebral ventricles. But Demosthenes must have expended a great many years in gathering such heaps of knowledge to-gether; to which, if we add the time he lost in overcoming the natural defects of his organs of speech, we will be puzzled to conceive where he got the time to commit to his memory these myriads of notions, which, however, is a condition, sine qua non, for the success of any candidate to a Demosthenes-ship. Besides, there is another ingredient entering the composition of a Demosthenes; viz., the capacity of launching forth a whole arsenal of defensive and offensive weapons upon friends and foes, in every direction; weapons of every description, sharp and round, light and ponderous, all well aimed and in a well-timed series, copiously, but not slippingly; to forget nothing, neither what is to be said nor what is to be kept silent. How often do we pity the lecturer or the orator, who is deficient in this last capacity of delivering a long number of notions ​in their proper order! We are dissatisfied to see them turn their eyes from us to their darling notebooks or folios: these teachers would wish heartily hea to avoid annoying, in this uncivil manner, their audience, but they cannot help it; they have a treacherous memory. This is one of the numerous insurmountable stepping-stones towards the height of a republican tribune erected amidst the capricious waves of a people polluted in every direction by a mud of corrupt senators, jealous patriots, foreign pensionaries, and a host of shallow-pated leaders. And what is the talisman that wings Demosthenes from one rock to another, until he sits upon a height which all the giants of twenty-one centuries, put upon the shoulders of one another, cannot reach? Some have cut short the question, stating, that that talisman was a peculiar favour of nature, a something out of the common order, a genius, perhaps a devil. We say simply thus: injured by nature in his organs of speech, he happens to hit upon the expedient of putting under his tongue pebbles, with which his toes come into collision while he is walking and declaiming on the shore of the sounding main, and thus nature is vanquished. This first success suggests naturally to his mind the possibility of other difficulties-crushing contrivances: he is, besides, goaded by the news of an infernal machine, a mnemonicon, at the disposal of his antagonists, the Macedonian court; and he neither sleeps nor rests until he finds out the "how" of that machine, or something akin to it. Farther, compelled by the extraordinary circumstances of the times, he makes constant use of it, and thus the stammerer becomes a Demosthenes. A loquacious elocutionist may kill, pleasantly, a couple of hours of a frivolous audience by a portion of those ​musical phrases to the manufacturing and perotting. of which he has devoted all the years of his life: he needs neither protuberances upon his forehead, nor a mnemonicon in his brain: his forehead may be full of holes, and his cranium empty. But to be able to hurl upon the heads of generations a shower of heavy and irresistible blocks of arguments, is out of the power even of the most extraordinary natural capacities: But Demosthenes put the mnemonic power into operation, and, by this, he manages with ease and precision, what others believe to be immovable. We do not deny his superior sharpness and energy in availing himself of the resources of art, but we protest against his being a monster or an angel: a similar individual, in similar circumstances, with a similar mnemonicon, will never fail to produce a similar man.
From the height of such mountains as Aristotle, Alexander, and Demosthenes, the eye cannot but perceive such towering tops as Cicero, Cæsary and Mithridates: all intermediate objects appear as if buried under the mist that hovers over the valley.
Cicero's extraordinary talents are upon record: he knows, himself, Simonides' art, and has the generosity to to advertise it. And Julius is sharp enough to avail himself of so good a thing, thing, for for his own purposes: he excels in this art, and leaves mankind to stare upon the universality of his knowledge for nearly two thousand years, with astonishment. Hè is, in eloquence, second only to Cicero, and has time enough to trace, with his pen and sword, deep and endless zigzags, from Britain to the Rubicon and Egypt, and from the Atlantic to the Euphrates; and still has time enough at his disposal to revel with Cleopatra. Surely, this commander-in-chief had no dictionaries, maps, statistics, &c., which might prepare him for the conquest of Gaul and ​Britain, at least: he learns it all at once, and leaves us to learn a great deal from him. All this, of course, may be explained—by his head having been made by nature purposely bigger than his chest; but more naturally thus: he knows, with a vengeance, that "knowledge is power." But he knows, also, that knowledge is a too vast and tedious element to work in for long years, without losing that energy which he feels will be indispensable for the business of passing a Rubicon: in this dilemma, some one slips the word mnemonics; he immediately looks into it, embraces it, and works upon it, with the fury peculiar to a republican who aspires after universal dominion. He soon excels in this art; and thus the greatest of all stumbling-blocks in the way of similar men—knowledge—is left behind, easily, and without exhaustion. A few bold and lucky casts of the die account for the rest.
As a contemporary with the times when mnemonics were a favourite study among the Romans, we find Mithridates, who speaks the languages of twenty-two nations, over whom he has time and talent enough to rule during a continual war with the Roman republic.
We will mention a few examples more. Seneca, who died A. D. 68, is capable of pronouncing two thousand given words in their proper order; and thus has visibly the means of becoming a Seneca. We know that mnemonics in the hands of any man may perform similar wonders; and we need not, therefore, have recourse to the gratuitous supposition, that he did it as a favourite of nature.
The German poet, Klopstock, could repeat the Iliad from the end to the beginning. This can be imitated by nobody; but easily achieved by those exercised in our art, without, for all that, making poetry the business of their life.
​An Englishman once came to Frederick the Great for the purpose of giving him some specimens of his extraordinary art. Frederick sent for Voltaire, who read to his Majesty a pretty long poem, which he had just finished: the Englishman immediately declaimed the whole with perfect correctness.
These instances are sufficiently remarkable; but let us relate, in his own words, what Antonius Muretus tells us respecting the wonderful art of a young Corsican, which is still more astonishing: "At Padua there dwelt a young Corsican, who was in possession of an art, by means of which he could perform things which no one could believe without being an eye-witness. I once dictated to him words from the Latin, Greek, and other languages with which he was less familiar; sometimes with and sometimes without meaning, so different, so unconnected, and in such numbers, that I was abundantly fatigued with dictating. This wonderful man repeated the whole in the very same order: he began, then, with the last, and repeated them backwards to the first; and afterwards, the first, third, and fifth word, &c., or in any given order. Franciscus Molinus, a patrician of Venice, who was exceedingly ardent in the study of the sciences, impressed with the feeling of the weakness of his memory, entreated the Corsican to teach him this art, to which the latter consented, and in the course of seven days the scholar could repeat, without difficulty, more than five hundred words, in the same or any other given order. Gisbert Voetius, a reformed divine of the 17th century, considers the performance of this Corsican as a proof of his intercourse with the devil."
In modern times the art of memory was revived by Raymond Lully, Lambert Schenkel, Martin ​Sommer, and others. Since the commencement of the present century, the mnemonic doctrine was propagated by Gräffe, Aretin, Duchet, and Feinagle. Feinagle exhibited specimens of his method in London and Edinburgh. "The Encyclopædia Britannica," vol. xv., p. 309, relates, that Count Metternich, the present premier of Austria, whilst ambassador at London, followed the whole course of lectures of Feinagle.
In 1832, we followed a course of lectures delivered at Paris, by by Mr. Aimé Paris, to whom we gratefully acknowledge to be indebted for many a mnemonic contrivance; but more so, for having encouraged us, by his example and precepts, to pursue this kind of study, which, although we had the good fortune to hit upon by chance, and follow from our early infancy, we had not boldness enough to rely upon with sufficient confidence; being diverted, but too often, by the observations of those for whom everything new appears ridiculous, impossible, or injurious.
The foundation upon which mnemonics were erected by the remotest antiquity, sunk under the rubbish of barbarous ages; and those who, in fresher times, attempted to dig this art out, and bring it again again to light, succeeded but partially. The manner in which th they expounded it, was far from being intelligible to the generality of students; and even the best of these authors have not reduced it to philosophical principles, exhibiting it, rather, as a set of empyrical cures for weak memories: neither have they left us any trace of their successful application to practical purposes, on any large scale.
What we offer to the public is the result of our experience in the different regions of human sciences and languages, which our own inclination, ​but more so, the caprices of fate, have brought us to grapple with in a hurry. We confess to have learned but little; convinced, however, at the same time, by numerous experiments upon ourselves and others, that, but for this method, we would have remained at least ten times still more ignorant.
Besides the empyrical and intricate manner in which mnemonics have hitherto been treated, we cannot help pointing to another reason of their being neglected; a reason which must suggest itself even to the least suspicious.
We have seen that mnemonics have been recommended and studied by the greatest authorities of antiquity, and found zealots almost in every age; and we are not aware of any one having fairly contradicted their usefulness as a means of accelerating the acquisition of knowledge. How is it, then, that such a valuable article is not brought into the market? How is it that the want of it is not felt—nay, the very name of it unknown? And all this in England, in 1841. If we cannot approve, much less can we blame those who might suspect some other very simple but unfair reasons of this anomaly. It is often the case, that those who have already got through their hard studentship are not the gladdest to see a new power brought into the market, which they suspect, or perhaps they have learned but lately, to be of a nature to shorten the school-period of the new-comers: they feel not quite comfortable at seeing the chance of their younger rivals soon matching or even leaving them behind.
Those who are most generous, or most interested to see this art expounded, are not always in a position to make their opinions prevail; and the ignorant, the lazy, and, above all, the envious, are always ready for the "cry down."
​And how easy is it to decry as quackish, or, at least, as chimerical, anything that promises what is generally considered to be impossible? What is it that we are quackish or chimerical enough to proclaim? Why, nothing less than, that those who are at present embarked in the task of acquiring knowledge, do not steer the straightest course: we invite them to use the compass and to employ either sails or steam; we invite them not to rest satisfied with the strength of their muscles or number of their oars.
Such pretensions put forth by any individual, be he ever so illustrious, are likely to be met by the ignorant with a shout of "Impossible," "Absurd," "Incredible;" the quack and the presumptuous cannot help pouring upon such "unheard-of pretensions," a long dissertation on quackery and presumptuousness. But what must be the fate of a man big with similar pretensions, who, far from being illustrious, has but a very small name, indeed; no patrons, and, what is more, not a particle of wealth to support him or his arguments? Most happy must such a schemer feel himself, if he succeeds in extorting a few lines of pity or ridicule. The only thing he has to rely upon, is, his own perseverance, by which the attention of some exceptionably generous individual, or of those who are personally interested in the success of the undertaking, may be excited, which, followed by some other f other favourable cast cast of the die, may finally bless him with the sight of his "quackeries and chimeras" crowned with success. Such are our hopes and fears, whenever we translate our internal convictions even in the most modest style; for instance, in terms like these: By following Phrenotypics, as taught by a nothing in our shape, men shall henceforth be able to acquire more knowledge in days than they could hitherto do in weeks; and what was ​the task of laborious and tedious long years, they will achieve in as many easy and cheerful months.
Just as by a few simple experiments we are enabled to appreciate the advantages and disadvantages of a machinery, through which a given mechanical power is applied to overcome resistances; so we will see, that by a few intellectual experiments, we may judge of the merits of the phrenotypic contrivances through which the memory operates, in the process of printing upon the brain.
FIRST EXPERIMENT.
All present are invited to write upon slips of paper any English words; for instance, pen, watch, horse, noisy, &c. These slips are handed over to any individual, from the audience, by whom they are read, as they reach him from all corners of the assembly; the audience write these words down in the same order, which will form, suppose, the following list:
* Rope,
* Box,
* Head,
* Mirror,
* Strong,
* Leg,
* Wet,
* Door,
* Angle,
* Beam,
* Book,
* Cupboard,
* Polygon,
* Clock,
* Crevice,
* Love, ​
* Liberty,
* Embroidery,
* Black,
* &c., &c.
The phrenotyper reads them over once or twice, and recites them exactly in the same order, from the top to the bottom, or from the bottom to the top.
SECOND EXPERIMENT.
'The audience numbers all these words from beginning to end; viz.,
* 01, Rope,
* 02, Box,
* 03, Head,
* 04, Mirror,
* 05, Strong,
* 06, Leg,
* 07, Wet,
* 08, Door,
* 09, Angle,
* 10, Beam,
* 11, Book,
* 12, Cupboard,
* 13, Polygon,
* 14, Clock,
* 15, Crevice,
* 16, Love,
* 17, Liberty,
* 18, Embroidery,
* 19, Black,
* &c., &c.
The phrenotyper commits to memory this numerical order with the same rapidity, and tells, promiscuously, any word when the corresponding number is given, or tells the number when the word is given.
THIRD EXPERIMENT.
The audience write upon slips of paper words of their own invention without any meaning; f. i., belch, los, marta, &c. Each of these words is handed over to the chairman or any other individual from the audience, who reads it aloud, and gives it to any one who wishes to control him: these unmeaning words are noted down opposite the English words of the foregoing experiments, which will form a vocabulary of the following shape:
| Refen, | embroidery |
| Zoru, | rope |
| Pina, | box |
| Min, | head |
| Fur, | mirror |
| Sumon, | strong |
| Yrk, | leg |
| Agnie, | wet |
| Agn, | door |
| Afa, | angle |
| Arap, | beam |
| Repes, | book |
| Snclan, | cupboard |
| Mirka, | polygon |
| Blotto, | clock |
| Neken, | crevice |
| Dachy, | love |
| Dinta, | black |
| &c., &c. ||
This strange vocabulary the phrenotyper reads once, and he is sure to have at least three-fourths deeply impressed upon his brain; he runs them over once more, and the whole is safely committed to his memory.
FOURTH EXPERIMENT.
The hearers write upon slips of paper, dates; for instance, 123, 1375, 1789, &c. These are read one after another, and noted down opposite the words constituting the above vocabulary, which will form, in a few minutes, a chronological table of the following shape.
| Rope, | 1510 |
| Box, | 1108 |
| Head, | 0172 |
| Mirror, | 1455 |
| Strong, | 1125 |
| Leg, | 0168 |
| Wet, | 0182 |
| Door, | 0125 |
| Angle, | 1386 |
| Beam, | 0104 |
| Book, | 0108 |
| Cupboard, | 0810 |
| Polygon, | 1068 |
| Clock, | 0867 |
| Crevice, | 0859 |
| Love, | 0069 |
| Liberty, | 0610 |
| Embroidery, | &c. |
The phrenotyper will commit to his memory these strange historical dates with the same ease.
The phrenotyper is capable of committing to his brain, or to that of others initiated in the art, similar notions at the rate of at least two thousand per day; we say at least, for we often stretch it to double that number.
Every one will, we hope, naturally infer, that those who could commit to their memory such tables with such rapidity, would not be the slowest ​to progress in the study of human knowledge; and those who reflect upon the nature of the difficulties they find in their studies of languages, history, or sciences, will easily guess the rapidity with which they could overcome these difficulties if they could themselves execute the above four performances; for, of what does principally consist the task of learning a foreign language? In nothing but in committing to memory some thousands of words forming tables like that of experiment 3d; and next, in becoming familiar with a few dozens of grammatical paradigmas, constituting tables like that of experiment 2d. One will be a very good historian if he can enumerate facts after facts written out in a table of shape 1st. Experiment 4th is visibly the problem to be solved in the study of chronology, a knowledge so useful but so rarely possessed even by the learned, because so difficult in the usual routine of study. With regard to geography and statistics, every one knows that they are nothing but a pile of similar tables. Mathematical studies are all easily reducible; 1st, to a series of problems, each problem being a series of minor operations to be recollected. These two series may be written out exactly in the form of Nos. 1 and 2; and 2dly, to a series of theorems, or, rather, equations, which will easily be learned by those who can manage tables like that of No. 3.
The physician may reduce almost all his studies into similar tables. We will remind him of one of the most important; viz., the Diagnostic part. Here he has to commit to his memory a number of tables, all exactly of the shape of No. 2; and we will hereafter convince him that anatomy, physiology, materia-medica, &c., are nothing but a heap of registers, not in the least differing from the above four tables: very long and numerous they are, we ​Page:Major Beniowski's Phrenotypics (Beniowski).djvu/27 ​Page:Major Beniowski's Phrenotypics (Beniowski).djvu/28
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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