Others have a complete mastery over their mental images. They can call up the figure of a friend and make it sit on a chair or stand up at will; they can make it turn round and attitudinise in any way, as by mounting it on a bicycle or compelling it to perform gymnastic feats on a trapeze. They are able to build up elaborate geometric structures bit by bit in their mind's eye, and add, subtract, or alter at will and at leisure. This free action of a vivid visualising faculty is of much importance in connection with the higher processes of generalised thought, though it is commonly put to no such purpose, as may be easily explained by an example. Suppose a person suddenly to accost another with the following words:— "I want to tell you about a boat." What is the idea that the word "boat" would be likely to call up? I tried the experiment with this result. One person, a young lady, said that she immediately saw the image of a rather large boat pushing off from the shore, and that it was full of ladies and gentlemen, the ladies being dressed in white and blue. It is obvious that a tendency to give so specific an interpretation to a general word is absolutely opposed to philosophic thought. Another person, who was accustomed to philosophise, said that the word "boat" had aroused no definite image, because he had purposely held his mind in suspense. He had exerted himself not to lapse into any one of the special ideas that he felt the word boat was ready to call up, such as a skiff, wherry, barge, launch, punt, or dingy. Much more did he refuse to think of any one of these with any particular freight or from any particular point of view. A habit of suppressing mental imagery must therefore characterise men who deal much with abstract ideas; and as the power of dealing easily and firmly with these ideas is the surest criterion of a high order of intellect, we should expect that the visualising faculty would be starved by disuse among philosophers, and this is precisely what I found on inquiry to be the case.

But there is no reason why it should be so, if the faculty is free in its action, and not tied to reproduce hard and persistent forms; it may then produce generalised pictures out of its past experiences quite automatically. It has no difficulty in reducing images to the same scale, owing to our constant practice in watching objects as they approach or recede, and consequently grow or diminish in apparent size. It readily shifts images to any desired point of the field of view, owing to our habit of looking at bodies in motion to the right or left, upward or downward. It selects images that present the same aspect, either by a simple act of memory or by a feat of imagination that forces them into the desired position, and it has little or no difficulty in reversing them from right to left, as if seen in a looking-glass. In illustration of these generalised mental images, let us recur to the boat, and suppose the speaker to continue as follows:—"The boat was a four-oared racing-boat, it was passing quickly to the left just in front of me, and the men were bending forward to take a fresh stroke." Now at this point of the story the listener ought to have a picture well before his eye. It ought to have the distinctness of a real four-oar going to the left, at the moment when many of its details still remained unheeded, such as the dresses of the men and their individual features. It would be the generic image of a four-oar formed by the combination into a single picture of a great many sight memories of those boats.

In the highest minds a descriptive word is sufficient to evoke crowds of shadowy associations, each striving to manifest itself. When they differ so much from one another as to be unfitted for combination into a single idea, there will be a conflict, each being prevented by the rest from obtaining sole possession of the field of consciousness. There could, therefore, be no definite imagery so long as the aggregate of all the pictures that the word suggested of objects presenting similar aspects, reduced to the same size, and accurately superposed, resulted in a blur; but a picture would gradually evolve as qualifications were added to the word, and it would attain to the distinctness and vividness of a generic image long before the word had been so restricted as to be individualised. If the intellect be slow, though correct in its operations, the associations will be few, and the generalised image based on insufficient data. If the visualising power be faint, the generalised image will be indistinct.

I cannot discover any closer relation between high visualising power and the intellectual faculties than between verbal memory and those same faculties. That it must afford immense help in some professions stands to reason, but in ordinary social life the possession of a high visualising power, as of a high verbal memory, may pass quite unobserved. I have to the last failed in anticipating the character of the answers that my friends would give to my inquiries, judging from my previous knowledge of them; though I am bound to say that, having received their answers, I could usually persuade myself that they were justified by my recollections of their previous sayings and conduct generally.

The faculty is undoubtedly useful in a high degree to inventive mechanicians, and the great majority of those whom I have questioned have spoken of their powers as very considerable. They invent their machines as they walk, and see them in height, breadth, and depth as real objects, and they can also see them in action. In fact, a periodic action of any kind appears to be easily recalled. But the powers of other men are considerably less; thus an engineer officer who has himself great power of visual memory, and who has superintended the mathematical education of cadets, doubts if one in ten can visualise an object in three dimensions. I should have thought the faculty would be common among geometricians, but many of the highest seem able somehow to get on without much of it. There is a curious dictum of Napoleon I. quoted in Hume's Precis of Modern Tactics, p. 15, of which I can neither find the original authority nor do I fully understand the meaning. He is reported to have said that "there are some who, from some physical or moral peculiarity of character, form a picture (tableau) of everything. No matter what knowledge, intellect, courage, or good qualities they may have, these men are unfit to command." It is possible that "tableau" should be construed rather in the sense of a pictorial composition, which, like an epigrammatic sentence, may be very complete and effective, but not altogether true.

There can, however, be no doubt as to the utility of the visualising faculty when it is duly subordinated to the higher intellectual operations. A visual image is the most perfect form of mental representation wherever the shape, position, and relations of objects in space are concerned. It is of importance in every handicraft and profession where design is required. The best workmen are those who visualise the whole of what they propose to do, before they take a tool in their hands. The village smith and the carpenter who are employed on odd jobs employ it no less for their work than the mechanician, the engineer, and the architect. The lady's maid who arranges a new dress requires it for the same reason as the decorator employed on a palace, or the agent who lays out great estates. Strategists, artists of all denominations, physicists who contrive new experiments, and in short all who do not follow routine, have need of it. The pleasure its use can afford is immense. I have many correspondents who say that the delight of recalling beautiful scenery and great works of art is the highest that they know; they carry whole picture galleries in their minds. Our bookish and wordy education tends to repress this valuable gift of nature. A faculty that is of importance in all technical and artistic occupations, that gives accuracy to our perceptions, and justness to our generalisations, is starved by lazy disuse, instead of being cultivated judiciously in such a way as will on the whole bring the best return. I believe that a serious study of the best method of developing and utilising this faculty, without prejudice to the practice of abstract thought in symbols, is one of the many pressing desiderata in the yet unformed science of education.



NUMBER-FORMS.

Persons who are imaginative almost invariably think of numerals in some form of visual imagery. If the idea of six occurs to them, the word "six" does not sound in their mental ear, but the figure 6 in a written or printed form rises before their mental eye. The clearness of the images of numerals, and the number of them that can be mentally viewed at the same time, differs greatly in different persons. The most common case is to see only two or three figures at once, and in a position too vague to admit of definition. There are a few persons in whom the visualising faculty is so low that they can mentally see neither numerals nor anything else; and again there are a few in whom it is so high as to give rise to hallucinations. Those who are able to visualise a numeral with a distinctness comparable to reality, and to behold it as if it were before their eyes, and not in some sort of dreamland, will define the direction in which it seems to lie, and the distance at which it appears to be. If they were looking at a ship on the horizon at the moment that the figure 6 happened to present itself to their minds, they could say whether the image lay to the left or right of the ship, and whether it was above or below the line of the horizon; they could always point to a definite spot in space, and say with more or less precision that that was the direction in which the image of the figure they were thinking of, first appeared.

Now the strange psychological fact to which I desire to draw attention, is that among persons who visualise figures clearly there are many who notice that the image of the same figure invariably makes its first appearance in the same direction, and at the same distance. Such a person would always see the figure when it first appeared to him at (we may suppose) one point of the compass to the left of the line between his eye and the ship, at the level of the horizon, and at twenty feet distance. Again, we may suppose that he would see the figure 7 invariably half a point to the left of the ship, at an altitude equal to the sun's diameter above the horizon, and at thirty feet distance; similarly for all the other figures. Consequently, when he thinks of the series of numerals 1, 2, 3, 4, etc., they show themselves in a definite pattern that always occupies an identical position in his field of view with respect to the direction in which he is looking.

Those who do not see figures with the same objectivity, use nevertheless the same expressions with reference to their mental field of view. They can draw what they see in a manner fairly satisfactory to themselves, but they do not locate it so strictly in reference to their axis of sight and to the horizontal plane that passes through it. It is with them as in dreams, the imagery is before and around, but the eyes during sleep are turned inwards and upwards.

The pattern or "Form" in which the numerals are seen is by no means the same in different persons, but assumes the most grotesque variety of shapes, which run in all sorts of angles, bends, curves, and zigzags as represented in the various illustrations to this chapter. The drawings, however, fail in giving the idea of their apparent size to those who see them; they usually occupy a wider range than the mental eye can take in at a single glance, and compel it to wander. Sometimes they are nearly panoramic.

These Forms have for the most part certain characteristics in common. They are stated in all cases to have been in existence, so far as the earlier numbers in the Form are concerned, as long back as the memory extends; they come into view quite independently of the will, and their shape and position, at all events in the mental field of view, is nearly invariable. They have other points in common to which I shall shortly draw attention, but first I will endeavour to remove all doubt as to the authenticity and trustworthiness of these statements.

I see no "Form" myself, and first ascertained that such a thing existed through a letter from Mr. G. Bidder, Q.C., in which he described his own case as a very curious peculiarity. I was at the time making inquiries about the strength of the visualising faculty in different persons, and among the numerous replies that reached me I soon collected ten or twelve other cases in which the writers spoke of their seeing numerals in definite forms. Though the information came from independent sources, the expressions used were so closely alike that they strongly corroborated one another. Of course I eagerly followed up the inquiry, and when I had collected enough material to justify publication, I wrote an account which appeared in Nature on 15th January 1880, with several illustrations. This has led to a wide correspondence and to a much-increased store of information, which enables me to arrive at the following conclusions. The answers I received whenever I have pushed my questions, have been straightforward and precise. I have not unfrequently procured a second sketch of the Form even after more than two years' interval, and found it to agree closely with the first one. I have also questioned many of my own friends in general terms as to whether they visualise numbers in any particular way. The large majority are unable to do so. But every now and then I meet with persons who possess the faculty, and I have become familiar with the quick look of intelligence with which they receive my question. It is as though some chord had been struck which had not been struck before, and the verbal answers they give me are precisely of the same type as those written ones of which I have now so many. I cannot doubt of the authenticity of independent statements which closely confirm one another, nor of the general accuracy of the accompanying sketches, because I find now that my collection is large enough for classification, that they might be arranged in an approximately continuous series. I am often told that the peculiarity is common to the speaker and to some near relative, and that they had found such to be the case by accident. I have the strongest evidence of its hereditary character after allowing, and over-allowing, for all conceivable influences of education and family tradition.

Last of all, I took advantage of the opportunity afforded by a meeting of the Anthropological Institute to read a memoir there on the subject, and to bring with me many gentlemen well known in the scientific world, who have this habit of seeing numerals in Forms, and whose diagrams were suspended on the walls. Amongst them are Mr. G. Bidder, Q.C., the Rev. Mr. G. Henslow, the botanist; Prof. Schuster, F.R.S., the physicist; Mr. Roget, Mr. Woodd Smith, and Colonel Yule, C.B., the geographer. These diagrams are given in Plate I. Figs. 20-24. I wished that some of my foreign correspondents could also have been present, such as M. Antoine d'Abbadie, the well-known French traveller and Membre de l'Institut, and Baron v. Osten Sacken, the Russian diplomatist and entomologist, for they had given and procured me much information.

I feel sure that I have now said enough to remove doubts as to the authenticity of my data. Their trustworthiness will, I trust, be still more apparent as I proceed; it has been abundantly manifest to myself from the internal evidences in a large mass of correspondence, to which I can unfortunately do no adequate justice in a brief memoir. It remains to treat the data in the same way as any other scientific facts and to extract as much meaning from them as possible.

The peculiarity in question is found, speaking very roughly, in about 1 out of every 30 adult males or 15 females. It consists in the sudden and automatic appearance of a vivid and invariable "Form" in the mental field of view, whenever a numeral is thought of, in which each numeral has its own definite place. This Form may consist of a mere line of any shape, of a peculiarly arranged row or rows of figures, or of a shaded space.

I give woodcuts of representative specimens of these Forms, and very brief descriptions of them extracted from the letters of my correspondents. Sixty-three other diagrams on a smaller scale will be found in Plates I., II. and III., and two more which are coloured are given in Plate IV.



D.A. "From the very first I have seen numerals up to nearly 200, range themselves always in a particular manner, and in thinking of a number it always takes its place in the figure. The more attention I give to the properties of numbers and their interpretations, the less I am troubled with this clumsy framework for them, but it is indelible in my mind's eye even when for a long time less consciously so. The higher numbers are to me quite abstract and unconnected with a shape. This rough and untidy [8] production is the best I can do towards representing what I see. There was a little difficulty in the performance, because it is only by catching oneself at unawares, so to speak, that one is quite sure that what one sees is not affected by temporary imagination. But it does not seem much like, chiefly because the mental picture never seems on the flat but in a thick, dark gray atmosphere deepening in certain parts, especially where 1 emerges, and about 20. How I get from 100 to 120 I hardly know, though if I could require these figures a few times without thinking of them on purpose, I should soon notice. About 200 I lose all framework. I do not see the actual figures very distinctly, but what there is of them is distinguished from the dark by a thin whitish tracing. It is the place they take and the shape they make collectively which is invariable. Nothing more definitely takes its place than a person's age. The person is usually there so long as his age is in mind."

[Footnote 8: The engraver took much pains to interpret the meaning of the rather faint but carefully made drawing, by strengthening some of the shades. The result was very very satisfactory, judging from the author's own view of it, which is as follows:—"Certainly if the engraver has been as successful with all the other representations as with that of my shape and its accompaniments, your article must be entirely correct."]

T. M. "The representation I carry in my mind of the numerical series is quite distinct to me, so much so that I cannot think of any number but I at once see it (as it were) in its peculiar place in the diagram. My remembrance of dates is also nearly entirely dependent on a clear mental vision of their loci in the diagram. This, as nearly as I can draw it, is the following:—"



"It is only approximately correct (if the term 'correct' be at all applicable). The numbers seem to approach more closely as I ascend from 10 to 20, 30, 40, etc. The lines embracing a hundred numbers also seem to approach as I go on to 400, 500, to 1000. Beyond 1000 I have only the sense of an infinite line in the direction of the arrow, losing itself in darkness towards the millions. Any special number of thousands returns in my mind to its position in the parallel lines from 1 to 1000. The diagram was present in my mind from early childhood; I remember that I learnt the multiplication table by reference to it at the age of seven or eight. I need hardly say that the impression is not that of perfectly straight lines, I have therefore used no ruler in drawing it."

J.S. "The figures are about a quarter of an inch in length, and in ordinary type. They are black on a white ground. The numeral 200 generally takes the place of 100 and obliterates it. There is no light or shade, and the picture is invariable."



etc. etc. 120+ - 110 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 / 20 10 1

In some cases, the mental eye has to travel along the faintly-marked and blank paths of a Form, to the place where the numeral that is wanted is known to reside, and then the figure starts into sight. In other cases all the numerals, as far as 100 or more, are faintly seen at once, but the figure that is wanted grows more vivid than its neighbours; in one of the cases there is, as it were, a chain, and the particular link rises as if an unseen hand had lifted it. The Forms are sometimes variously coloured, occasionally very brilliantly (see Plate IV.). In all of these the definition and illumination vary much in different parts. Usually the Forms fade away into indistinctness after 100; sometimes they come to a dead stop. The higher numbers very rarely fill so large a space in the Forms as the lower ones, and the diminution of space occupied by them is so increasingly rapid that I thought it not impossible they might diminish according to some geometrical law, such as that which governs sensitivity. I took many careful measurements and averaged them, but the result did not justify the supposition.

It is beyond dispute that these forms originate at an early age; they are subsequently often developed in boyhood and youth so as to include the higher numbers, and, among mathematical students, the negative values.

Nearly all of my correspondents speak with confidence of their Forms having been in existence as far back as they recollect. One states that he knows he possessed it at the age of four; another, that he learnt his multiplication table by the aid of the elaborate mental diagram he still uses. Not one in ten is able to suggest any clue as to their origin. They cannot be due to anything written or printed, because they do not simulate what is found in ordinary writings or books.

About one-third of the figures are curved to the left, two-thirds to the right; they run more often upward than downward. They do not commonly lie in a single plane. Sometimes a Form has twists as well as bends, sometimes it is turned upside down, sometimes it plunges into an abyss of immeasurable depth, or it rises and disappears in the sky. My correspondents are often in difficulties when trying to draw them in perspective. One sent me a stereoscopic picture photographed from a wire that had been bent into the proper shape. In one case the Form proceeds at first straightforward, then it makes a backward sweep high above head, and finally recurves into the pocket, of all places! It is often sloped upwards at a slight inclination from a little below the level of the eye, just as objects on a table would appear to a child whose chin was barely above it.

It may seem strange that children should have such bold conceptions as of curves sweeping loftily upward or downward to immeasurable depths, but I think it may be accounted for by their much larger personal experience of the vertical dimension of space than adults. They are lifted, tossed and swung, but adults pass their lives very much on a level, and only judge of heights by inference from the picture on their retina. Whenever a man first ventures up in a balloon, or is let, like a gatherer of sea-birds' eggs, over the face of a precipice, he is conscious of having acquired a much extended experience of the third dimension of space.

The character of the forms under which historical dates are visualised contrast strongly with the ordinary Number-Forms. They are sometimes copied from the numerical ones, but they are more commonly based both clearly and consciously on the diagrams used in the schoolroom or on some recollected fancy.

The months of the year are usually perceived as ovals, and they as often follow one another in a reverse direction to those of the figures on the clock, as in the same direction. It is a common peculiarity that the months do not occupy equal spaces, but those that are most important to the child extend more widely than the rest. There are many varieties as to the topmost month; it is by no means always January.

The Forms of the letters of the alphabet, when imaged, as they sometimes are, in that way, are equally easy to be accounted for, therefore the ordinary Number-Form is the oldest of all, and consequently the most interesting. I suppose that it first came into existence when the child was learning to count, and was used by him as a natural mnemonic diagram, to which he referred the spoken words "one," "two," "three," etc. Also, that as soon as he began to read, the visual symbol figures supplanted their verbal sounds, and permanently established themselves on the Form. It therefore existed at an earlier date than that at which the child began to learn to read; it represents his mental processes at a time of which no other record remains; it persists in vigorous activity, and offers itself freely to our examination.

The teachers of many schools and colleges, some in America, have kindly questioned their pupils for me; the results are given in the two first columns of Plate I. It appears that the proportion of young people who see numerals in Forms is greater than that of adults. But for the most part their Forms are neither well defined nor complicated. I conclude that when they are too faint to be of service they are gradually neglected, and become wholly forgotten; while if they are vivid and useful, they increase in vividness and definition by the effect of habitual use. Hence, in adults, the two classes of seers and non-seers are rather sharply defined, the connecting link of intermediate cases which is observable in childhood having disappeared.

These Forms are the most remarkable existing instances of what is called "topical" memory, the essence of which appears to lie in the establishment of a more exact system of division of labour in the different parts of the brain, than is usually carried on. Topical aids to memory are of the greatest service to many persons, and teachers of mnemonics make large use of them, as by advising a speaker to mentally associate the corners, etc., of a room with the chief divisions of the speech he is about to deliver. Those who feel the advantage of these aids most strongly are the most likely to cultivate the use of numerical forms. I have read many books on mnemonics, and cannot doubt their utility to some persons; to myself the system is of no avail whatever, but simply a stumbling-block, nevertheless I am well aware that many of my early associations are fanciful and silly.

The question remains, why do the lines of the Forms run in such strange and peculiar ways? the reply is, that different persons have natural fancies for different lines and curves. Their handwriting shows this, for handwriting is by no means solely dependent on the balance of the muscles of the hand, causing such and such strokes to be made with greater facility than others. Handwriting is greatly modified by the fashion of the time. It is in reality a compromise between what the writer most likes to produce, and what he can produce with the greatest ease to himself. I am sure, too, that I can trace a connection between the general look of the handwritings of my various correspondents and the lines of their Forms. If a spider were to visualise numerals, we might expect he would do so in some web-shaped fashion, and a bee in hexagons. The definite domestic architecture of all animals as seen in their nests and holes shows the universal tendency of each species to pursue their work according to certain definite lines and shapes, which are to them instinctive and in no way, we may presume, logical. The same is seen in the groups and formations of flocks of gregarious animals and in the flights of gregarious birds, among which the wedge-shaped phalanx of wild ducks and the huge globe of soaring storks are as remarkable as any.

I used to be much amused during past travels in watching the different lines of search that were pursued by different persons in looking for objects lost on the ground, when the encampment was being broken up. Different persons had decided idiosyncracies, so much so that if their travelling line of sight could have scored a mark on the ground, I think the system of each person would have been as characteristic as his Number-Form.

Children learn their figures to some extent by those on the clock. I cannot, however, trace the influence of the clock on the Forms in more than a few cases. In two of them the clock-face actually appears, in others it has evidently had a strong influence, and in the rest its influence is indicated, but nothing more. I suppose that the complex Roman numerals in the clock do not fit in sufficiently well with the simpler ideas based upon the Arabic ones.

The other traces of the origin of the Forms that appear here and there, are dominoes, cards, counters, an abacus, the fingers, counting by coins, feet and inches (a yellow carpenter's rule appears in one case with 56 in large figures upon it), the country surrounding the child's home, with its hills and dales, objects in the garden (one scientific man sees the old garden walk and the numeral 7 at a tub sunk in the ground where his father filled his watering-pot). Some associations seem connected with the objects spoken of in the doggerel verses by which children are often taught their numbers.

But the paramount influence proceeds from the names of the numerals. Our nomenclature is perfectly barbarous, and that of other civilised nations is not better than ours, and frequently worse, as the French "quatre-vingt dix-huit," or "four score, ten and eight," instead of ninety-eight. We speak of ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, etc., in defiance of the beautiful system of decimal notation in which we write those numbers. What we see is one-naught, one-one, one-two, etc., and we should pronounce on that principle, with this proviso, that the word for the "one" having to show both the place and the value, should have a sound suggestive of "one" but not identical with it. Let us suppose it to be the letter o pronounced short as in "on," then instead of ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, etc., we might say on-naught, on-one, on-two, on-three, etc.

The conflict between the two systems creates a perplexity, to which conclusive testimony is borne by these numerical forms. In most of them there is a marked hitch at the 12, and this repeats itself at the 120. The run of the lines between 1 and 20 is rarely analogous to that between 20 and 100, where it usually first becomes regular. The 'teens frequently occupy a larger space than their due. It is not easy to define in words the variety of traces of the difficulty and annoyance caused by our unscientific nomenclature, that are portrayed vividly, and, so to speak, painfully in these pictures. They are indelible scars that testify to the effort and ingenuity with which a sort of compromise was struggled for and has finally been effected between the verbal and decimal systems. I am sure that this difficulty is more serious and abiding than has been suspected, not only from the persistency of these twists, which would have long since been smoothed away if they did not continue to subserve some useful purpose, but also from experiments on my own mind. I find I can deal mentally with simple sums with much less strain if I audibly conceive the figures as on-naught, on-one, etc., and I can both dictate and write from dictation with much less trouble when that system or some similar one is adopted. I have little doubt that our nomenclature is a serious though unsuspected hindrance to the ready adoption by the public of a decimal system of weights and measures. Three quarters of the Forms bear a duodecimal impress.

I will now give brief explanations of the Number-Forms drawn in Plates I., II., and III., and in the two front figures in Plate IV.

DESCRIPTION OF PLATE I.

Fig. 1 is by Mr. Walter Larden, science-master of Cheltenham College, who sent me a very interesting and elaborate account of his own case, which by itself would make a memoir; and he has collected other information for me. The Number-Forms of one of his colleagues and of that gentleman's sister are given in Figs. 53, 54, Plate III. I extract the following from Mr. Larden's letter—it is all for which I can find space:—



"All numbers are to me as images of figures in general; I see them in ordinary Arabic type (except in some special cases), and they have definite positions in space (as shown in the Fig.). Beyond 100 I am conscious of coming down a dotted line to the position of 1 again, and of going over the same cycle exactly as before, e.g. with 120 in the place of 20, and so on up to 140 or 150. With higher numbers the imagery is less definite; thus, for 1140, I can only say that there are no new positions, I do not see the entire number in the place of 40; but if I think of it as 11 hundred and 40, I see 40 in its place, 11 in its place, and 100 in its place; the picture is not single though the ideas combine. I seem to stand near 1. I have to turn somewhat to see from 30-40, and more and more to see from 40-100; 100 lies high up to my right and behind me. I see no shading nor colour in the figures."

Figs. 2 to 6 are from returns collected for me by the Rev. A.D. Hill, science-master of Winchester College, who sent me replies from 135 boys of an average age of 14-15. He says, speaking of their replies to my numerous questions on visualising generally, that they "represent fairly those who could answer anything; the boys certainly seemed interested in the subject; the others, who had no such faculty either attempting and failing, or not finding any response in their minds, took no interest in the inquiry." A very remarkable case of hereditary colour association was sent to me by Mr. Hill, to which I shall refer later. The only five good cases of Number-Forms among the 135 boys are those shown in the Figs. I need only describe Fig. 2. The boy says:—"Numbers, except the first twenty, appear in waves; the two crossing-lines, 60-70, 140-150, never appear at the same time. The first twelve are the image of a clock, and 13-20 a continuation of them."

Figs. 7, 8, are sent me by Mr. Henry F. Osborn of Princeton in the United States, who has given cordial assistance in obtaining information as regards visualising generally. These two are the only Forms included in sixty returns that he sent, 34 of which were from Princeton College, and the remaining 26 from Vassar (female) College. Figs. 9-19 and Fig. 28 are from returns communicated by Mr. W.H. Poole, science-master of Charterhouse College, which are very valuable to me as regards visualising power generally. He read my questions before a meeting of about 60 boys, who all consented to reply, and he had several subsequent volunteers. All the answers were short, straightforward, and often amusing. Subsequently the inquiry extended, and I have 168 returns from him in all, containing 12 good Number-Forms, shown in Figs. 9-19, and in Fig. 28. The first Fig. is that of Mr. Poole himself; he says, "The line only represents position; it does not exist in my mind. After 100, I return to my old starting-place, e.g. 140 occupies the same position as 40."

The gross statistical result from the schoolboys is as follows: —Total returns, 337: viz. Winchester 135, Princeton 34, Charterhouse 168; the number of these that contained well-defined Number-Forms are 5, 1, and 12 respectively, or total 18—that is, one in twenty. It may justly be said that the masters should not be counted, because it was owing to the accident of their seeing the Number-Forms themselves that they became interested in the inquiry; if this objection be allowed, the proportion would become 16 in 337, or one in twenty-one. Again, some boys who had no visualising faculty at all could make no sense out of the questions, and wholly refrained from answering; this would again diminish the proportion. The shyness in some would help in a statistical return to neutralise the tendency to exaggeration in others, but I do not think there is much room for correction on either head. Neither do I think it requisite to make much allowance for inaccurate answers, as the tone of the replies is simple and straightforward. Those from Princeton, where the students are older and had been specially warned, are remarkable for indications of self-restraint. The result of personal inquiries among adults, quite independent of and prior to these, gave me the proportion of 1 in 30 as a provisional result for adults. This is as well confirmed by the present returns of 1 in 21 among boys and youths as I could have expected.

I have not a sufficient number of returns from girls for useful comparison with the above, though I am much indebted to Miss Lewis for 33 reports, to Miss Cooper of Edgbaston for 10 reports from the female teachers at her school, and to a few other schoolmistresses, such as Miss Stones of Carmarthen, whose returns I have utilised in other ways. The tendency to see Number-Forms is certainly higher in girls than in boys.

Fig. 20 is the Form of Mr. George Bidder, Q.C.; it is of much interest to myself, because it was, as I have already mentioned, through the receipt of it and an accompanying explanation that my attention was first drawn to the subject. Mr. G. Bidder is son of the late well-known engineer, the famous "calculating boy" of the bygone generation, whose marvellous feats in mental arithmetic were a standing wonder. The faculty is hereditary. Mr. G. Bidder himself has multiplied mentally fifteen figures by another fifteen figures, but with less facility than his father. It has been again transmitted, though in an again reduced degree, to the third generation. He says: —

"One of the most curious peculiarities in my own case is the arrangement of the arithmetical numerals. I have sketched this to the best of my ability. Every number (at least within the first thousand, and afterwards thousands take the place of units) is always thought of by me in its own definite place in the series, where it has, if I may say so, a home and an individuality. I should, however, qualify this by saying that when I am multiplying together two large numbers, my mind is engrossed in the operation, and the idea of locality in the series for the moment sinks out of prominence."

Fig. 21 is that of Prof. Schuster, F.R.S., whose visualising powers are of a very high order, and who has given me valuable information, but want of space compels me to extract very briefly. He says to the effect:—

"The diagram of numerals which I usually see has roughly the shape of a horse-shoe, lying on a slightly inclined plane, with the open end towards me. It always comes into view in front of me, a little to the left, so that the right hand branch of the horse-shoe, at the bottom of which I place 0, is in front of my left eye. When I move my eyes without moving my head, the diagram remains fixed in space and does not follow the movement of my eye. When I move the head the diagram unconsciously follows the movement, but I can, by an effort, keep it fixed in space as before. I can also shift it from one part of the field to the other, and even turn it upside down. I use the diagram as a resting-place for the memory, placing a number on it and finding it again when wanted. A remarkable property of the diagram is a sort of elasticity which enables me to join the two ends of the horse-shoe together when I want to connect 100 with 0. The same elasticity causes me to see that part of the diagram on which I fix my attention larger than the rest."

Mr. Schuster makes occasional use of a simpler form of diagram, which is little more than a straight line variously divided, and which I need not describe in detail.

Fig. 22 is by Colonel Yule, C.B.; it is simpler than the others, and he has found it to become sensibly weaker in later years; it is now faint and hard to fix.

Fig. 23. Mr. Woodd Smith:—

"Above 200 the form becomes vague and is soon lost, except that 999 is always in a corner like 99. My own position in regard to it is generally nearly opposite my own age, which is fifty now, at which point I can face either towards 7-12, or towards 12-20, or 20-7, but never (I think) with my back to 12-20."

Fig. 24. Mr. Roget. He writes to the effect that the first twelve are clearly derived from the spots in dominoes. After 100 there is nothing clear but 108. The form is so deeply engraven in his mind that a strong effort of the will was required to substitute any artificial arrangement in its place. His father, the late Dr. Roget (well known for many years as secretary of the Royal Society), had trained him in his childhood to the use of the memoria technica of Feinagle, in which each year has its special place in the walls of a particular room, and the rooms of a house represent successive centuries, but he never could locate them in that way. They would go to what seemed their natural homes in the arrangement shown in the figure, which had come to him from some unknown source.

The remaining Figs., 25-28, in Plate I., sufficiently express themselves. The last belongs to one of the Charterhouse boys, the others respectively to a musical critic, to a clergyman, and to a gentleman who is, I believe, now a barrister.

DESCRIPTION OF PLATE II.

Plate II. contains examples of more complicated Forms, which severally require so much minuteness of description that I am in despair of being able to do justice to them separately, and must leave most of them to tell their own story.

Fig. 34 is that of Mr. Flinders Petrie, to which I have already referred (p. 66).

Fig. 37 is by Professor Herbert McLeod, F.R.S. I will quote his letter almost in full, as it is a very good example:—

"When your first article on visualised numerals appeared in Nature, I thought of writing to tell you of my own case, of which I had never previously spoken to any one, and which I never contemplated putting on paper. It becomes now a duty to me to do so, for it is a fourth case of the influence of the clock-face. [In my article I had spoken of only three cases known to me.—F. G.] The enclosed paper will give you a rough notion of the apparent positions of numbers in my mind. That it is due to learning the clock is, I think, proved by my being able to tell the clock certainly before I was four, and probably when little more than three, but my mother cannot tell me the exact date. I had a habit of arranging my spoon and fork on my plate to indicate the positions of the hands, and I well remember being astonished at seeing an old watch of my grandmother's which had ordinary numerals in place of Roman ones. All this happened before I could read, and I have no recollection of learning the numbers unless it was by seeing numbers stencilled on the barrels in my father's brewery.

"When learning the numbers from 12 to 20, they appeared to be vertically above the 12 of the clock, and you will see from the enclosed sketch that the most prominent numbers which I have underlined all occur in the multiplication table. Those doubly underlined are the most prominent [the lithographer has not rendered these correctly.—F. G.], and just now I caught myself doing what I did not anticipate—after doubly underlining some of the numbers, I found that all the multiples of 12 except 84 are so marked. In the sketch I have written in all the numbers up to 30; the others are not added merely for want of space; they appear in their corresponding positions. You will see that 21 is curiously placed, probably to get a fresh start for the next 10. The loops gradually diminish in size as the numbers rise, and it seems rather curious that the numbers from 100 to 120 resemble in form those from 1 to 20. Beyond 144 the arrangement is less marked, and beyond 200 they entirely vanish, although there is some hazy recollection of a futile attempt to learn the multiplication table up to 20 times 20."



"Neither my mother nor my sister is conscious of any mental arrangement of numerals. I have not found any idea of this kind among any of my colleagues to whom I have spoken on the subject, and several of them have ridiculed the notion, and possibly think me a lunatic for having any such feeling. I was showing the scheme to G., shortly after your first article appeared, on the piece of paper I enclose, and he changed the diagram to a sea-serpent [most amusingly and grotesquely drawn.—F. G.], with the remark, 'If you were a rich man, and I knew I was mentioned in your will, I should destroy that piece of paper, in case it should be brought forward as an evidence of insanity!' I mention this in connection with a paragraph in your article."

Fig. 40 is, I think, the most complicated form I possess. It was communicated to me by Mr. Woodd Smith as that of Miss L. K., a lady who was governess in a family, whom he had closely questioned both with inquiries of his own and by submitting others subsequently sent by myself. It is impossible to convey its full meaning briefly, and I am not sure that I understand much of the principle of it myself. A shows part only (I have not room for more) of the series 2, 3, 5, 7, 10, 11, 13, 14, 17, 18, 19, each as two sides of a square,—that is, larger or smaller according to the magnitude of the number; 1 does not appear anywhere. C similarly shows part of the series (all divisible by 3) of 6, 9, 15, 21, 27, 30, 33, 39, 60, 63, 66, 69, 90, 93, 96. B shows the way in which most numbers divisible by 4 appear. D shows the form of the numbers 17, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 29, 41, 42-49, 81-83, 85-87, 89, 101-103, 105-107, and 109. E shows that of 31, 33-35, 37-39. The other numbers are not clear, viz. 50, 51, 53-55, 57-59. Beyond 100 the arrangement becomes hazy, except that the hundreds and thousands go on again in complete, consecutive, and proportional squares indefinitely. The groups of figures are not seen together, but one or other starts up as the number is thought of. The form has no background, and is always seen in front. No Arabic or other figures are seen with it. Experiments were made as to the time required to get these images well in the mental view, by reading to the lady a series of numbers as fast as she could visualise them. The first series consisted of twenty numbers of two figures each—thus, 17, 28, 13, 52, etc.; these were gone through on the first trial in 22 seconds, on the second in 16, and on the third in 26. The second series was more varied, containing numbers of one, two, and three figures—thus 121, 117, 345, 187, 13, 6, 25, etc., and these were gone through in three trials in 25, 25, and 22 seconds respectively, forming a general result of 23 seconds for twenty numbers, or 2-1/3 seconds per number. A noticeable feature in this case is the strict accordance of the scale of the image with the magnitude of the number, and the geometric regularity of the figures. Some that I drew, and sent for the lady to see, did not at all satisfy her eye as to their correctness.

I should say that not a few mental calculators work by bulks rather than by numerals; they arrange concrete magnitudes symmetrically in rank and file like battalions, and march these about. I have one case where each number in a Form seems to bear its own weight.

Fig. 45 is a curious instance of a French Member of the Institute, communicated to me by M. Antoine d'Abbadie (whose own Number-Form is shown in Fig. 44):—

"He was asked, why he puts 4 in so conspicuous a place; he replied, 'You see that such a part of my name (which he wishes to withhold) means 4 in the south of France, which is the cradle of my family; consequently quatre est ma raison d'etre.'"

Subsequently, in 1880, M. d'Abbadie wrote:—

"I mentioned the case of a philosopher whose, 4, 14, 24, etc., all step out of the rank in his mind's eye. He had a haze in his mind from 60, I believe [it was 50.—F.G.], up to 80; but latterly 80 has sprung out, not like the sergeants 4, 14, 24, but like a captain, farther out still, and five or six times as large as the privates 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, etc. 'Were I superstitious,' said he, 'I should conclude that my death would occur in the 80th year of the century.' The growth of 80 was sudden, and has remained constant ever since."

This is the only case known to me of a new stage in the development of a Number-Form being suddenly attained.

DESCRIPTION OF PLATE III.

Plate III. is intended to exhibit some instances of heredity. I have no less than twenty-two families in which this curious tendency is hereditary, and there may be many more of which I am still ignorant. I have found it to extend in at least eight of these beyond the near degrees of parent and child, and brother and sister. Considering that the occurrence is so rare as to exist in only about one in every twenty-five or thirty males, these results are very remarkable, and their trustworthiness is increased by the fact that the hereditary tendency is on the whole the strongest in those cases where the Number-Forms are the most defined and elaborate. I give four instances in which the hereditary tendency is found, not only in having a Form at all, but also in some degree in the shape of the Form.

Figs. 46-49 are those of various members of the Henslow family, where the brothers, sisters, and some children of a sister have the peculiarity.

Figs. 53-54 are those of a master of Cheltenham College and his sister.

Figs. 55-56 are those of a father and son; 57 and 58 belong to the same family.

Figs. 59-60 are those of a brother and sister.

The lower half of the Plate explains itself. The last figure of all, Fig. 65, is of interest, because it was drawn for an intelligent little girl of only 11 years old, after she had been closely questioned by the father, and it was accompanied by elaborate coloured illustrations of months and days of the week. I thought this would be a good test case, so I let the matter drop for two years, and then begged the father to question the child casually, and to send me a fresh account. I asked at the same time if any notes had been kept of the previous letter. Nothing could have come out more satisfactorily. No notes had been kept; the subject had passed out of mind, but the imagery remained the same, with some trifling and very interesting metamorphoses of details.



DESCRIPTION OF PLATE IV.

I can find room in Plate IV. for only two instances of coloured Number-Forms, though others are described in Plate III. Fig. 64 is by Miss Rose G. Kingsley, daughter of the late eminent writer the Rev. Charles Kingsley, and herself an authoress. She says:—

"Up to 30 I see the numbers in clear white; to 40 in gray; 40-50 in flaming orange; 50-60 in green; 60-70 in dark blue; 70 I am not sure about; 80 is reddish, I think; and 90 is yellow; but these latter divisions are very indistinct in my mind's eye."

She subsequently writes:—

"I now enclose my diagram; it is very roughly done, I am afraid, not nearly as well as I should have liked to have done it. My great fear, has been that in thinking it over I might be led to write down something more than what I actually see, but I hope I have avoided this."

Fig. 65 is an attempt at reproducing the form sent by Mr. George F. Smythe of Ohio, an American correspondent who has contributed much of interest. He says:—

"To me the numbers from 1 to 20 lie on a level plane, but from 20 they slope up to 100 at an angle of about 25 deg. Beyond 100 they are generally all on a level, but if for any reason I have to think of the numbers from 100 to 200, or from 200 to 300, etc., then the numbers, between these two hundreds, are arranged just as those from 1 to 100 are. I do not, when thinking of a number, picture to myself the figures which represent it, but I do think instantly of the place which it occupies along the line. Moreover, in the case of numbers from 1 to 20 (and, indistinctly, from 20 up to 28 or 30), I always picture the number—not the figures—as occupying a right-angled parallelogram about twice as long as it is broad. These numbers all lie down flat and extend in a straight line from 1 to 12 over an unpleasant, arid, sandy plain. At 12 the line turns abruptly to the right, passes into a pleasanter region where grass grows, and so continues up to 20. At 20 the line turns to the left, and passes up the before-described incline to 100. This figure will help you in understanding my ridiculous notions. The asterisk (*) marks the place where I commonly seem to myself to stand and view the line. At times I take other positions, but never any position to the left of the (*), nor to the right of the line from 20 upwards. I do not associate colours with numbers, but there is a great difference in the illumination which different numbers receive. If a traveller should start at 1 and walk to 100, he would be in an intolerable glare of light until near 9 or 10. But at 11 he would go into a land of darkness and would have to feel his way. At 12 light breaks in again, a pleasant sunshine, which continues up to 19 or 20, where there is a sort of twilight. From here to 40 the illumination is feeble, but still there is considerable light. At 40 things light up, and until one reaches 56 or 57 there is broad daylight. Indeed the tract from 48 to 50 is almost as bad as that from 1 to 9. Beyond 60 there is a fair amount of light up to about 97, From this point to 100 it is rather cloudy."

In a subsequent letter he adds:—

"I enclose a picture in perspective and colour of my 'form.' I have taken great pains with this, but am far from satisfied with it. I know nothing about drawing, and consequently am unable to put upon the paper just what I see. The faults which I find with the picture are these. The rectangles stand out too distinctly, as something lying on the plane instead of being, as they ought, a part of the plane. The view is taken of necessity from an unnatural stand-point, and some way or other the region 1-12 does not look right. The landscape is altogether too distinct in its features. I rather know that there is grass, and that there are trees in the distance, than see them. But the grass within a few feet of the line I see distinctly. I cannot make the hill at the right slope down to the plane as it ought. It is too steep. I have had my poor success in indicating my notion of the darkness which overhangs the region of eleven. In reality it is not a cloud at all, but a darkness.

"My sister, a married lady, thirty-eight years of age, sees numerals much as I do, but very indistinctly. She cannot draw a figure which is not by far too distinct."

Most of those who associate colours with numerals do so in a vague way, impossible to convey with truth in a painting. Of the few who see them with more objectivity, many are unable to paint or are unwilling to take the trouble required to match the precise colours of their fancies. A slight error in hue or tint always dissatisfies them with their work.

Before dismissing the subject of numerals, I would call attention to a few other associations connected with them. They are often personified by children, and characters are assigned to them, it may be on account of the part they play in the multiplication table, or owing to some fanciful association with their appearance or their sound. To the minds of some persons the multiplication table appears dramatised, and any chance group of figures may afford a plot for a tale. I have collated six full and trustworthy accounts, and find a curious dissimilarity in the personifications and preferences; thus the number 3 is described as (1) disliked; (2) a treacherous sneak; (3) a good old friend; (4) delightful and amusing; (5) a female companion to 2; (6) a feeble edition of 9. In one point alone do I find any approach to unanimity, and that is in the respect paid to 12, as in the following examples:—(1) important and influential; (2) good and cautious—so good as to be almost noble; (3) a more beautiful number than 10, from the many multiples that make it up—in other words, its kindly relations to so many small numbers; (4) a great love for 12, a large-hearted motherly person because of the number of little ones that it takes, as it were, under its protection. The decimal system seemed to me treason against this motherly 12.—All this concurs with the importance assigned for other reasons to the number 12 in the Number-Form.

There is no agreement as to the sex of numbers; I myself had absurdly enough fancied that of course the even numbers would be taken to be of the male sex, and was surprised to find that they were not. I mention this as an example of the curious way in which our minds may be unconsciously prejudiced by the survival of some forgotten early fancies. I cannot find on inquiring of philologists any indications of different sexes having been assigned in any language to different numbers.

Mr. Hershon has published an analysis of the Talmud, on the odd principle of indexing the various passages according to the number they may happen to contain; thus such a phrase as "there were three men who," etc., would be entered under the number 3. I cannot find any particular preferences given there to especial numbers; even 7 occurs less often than 1, 2, 3, 4, and 10. Their respective frequency being 47, 54, 53, 64, 54, 51; 12 occurs only sixteen times. Gamblers have not unfrequently the silliest ideas concerning numbers, their heads being filled with notions about lucky figures and beautiful combinations of them. There is a very amusing chapter in Rome Contemporaine, by E. About, in which he speaks of this in connection with the rage for lottery tickets.



COLOUR ASSOCIATIONS.

Numerals are occasionally seen in Arabic or other figures, not disposed in any particular Form, but coloured. An instance of this is represented in Fig. 69 towards the middle part of the column, but as I shall have shortly to enter at length into the colour associations of the author, I will pass over this portion of them, and will quote in preference from the letter of another correspondent.

Baron von Osten Sacken, of whom I have already spoken, writes:—

"The localisation of numerals, peculiar to certain persons, is foreign to me. In my mind's eye the figures appear in front of me, within a limited space. My peculiarity, however, consists in the fact that the numerals from 1 to 9 are differently coloured; (1) black, (2) yellow, (3) pale brick red, (4) brown, (5) blackish gray, (6) reddish brown, (7) green, (8) bluish, (9) reddish brown, somewhat like 6. These colours appear very distinctly when I think of these figures separately; in compound figures they become less apparent. But the most remarkable manifestation of these colours appears in my recollections of chronology. When I think of the events of a given century they invariably appear to me on a background coloured like the principal figure in the dates of that century; thus events of the eighteenth century invariably appear to me on a greenish ground, from the colour of the figure 7. This habit clings to me most tenaciously, and the only hypothesis I can form about its origin is the following:—My tutor, when I was ten to twelve years old, taught me chronology by means of a diagram on which the centuries were represented by squares, subdivided in 100 smaller squares; the squares representing centuries had narrow coloured borders; it may be that in this way the recollection of certain figures became associated with certain colours. I venture this explanation without attaching too much importance to it, because it seems to me that if it was true, my direct recollection of those coloured borders would have been stronger than it is; still, the strong association of my chronology with colour seems to plead in favour of that explanation."

Figs. 66, 67. These two are selected out of a large collection of coloured Forms in which the months of the year are visualised. They will illustrate the gorgeousness of the mental imagery of some favoured persons. Of these Fig. 66 is by the wife of an able London physician, and Fig. 67 is by Mrs. Kempe Welch, whose sister, Miss Bevington, a well-known and thoughtful writer, also sees coloured imagery in connection with dates. This Fig. 67 was one of my test cases, repeated after the lapse of two years, and quite satisfactorily. The first communication was a descriptive account, partly in writing, partly by word of mouth; the second, on my asking for it, was a picture which agreed perfectly with the description, and explained much that I had not understood at the time. The small size of the Fig. in the Plate makes it impossible to do justice to the picture, which is elaborate and on a large scale, with a perspective of similar hills stretching away to the far distance, and each standing for a separate year. She writes:—

"It is rather difficult to give it fully without making it too definite; on each side there is a total blank."

The instantaneous association of colour with sound characterises a small percentage of adults, and it appears to be rather common, though in an ill-developed degree, among children. I can here appeal not only to my own collection of facts, but to those of others, for the subject has latterly excited some interest in Germany. The first widely known case was that of the brothers Nussbaumer, published in 1873 by Professor Bruhl of Vienna, of which the English reader will find an account in the last volume of Lewis's Problems of Life and Mind (p. 280). Since then many occasional notices of similar associations have appeared. A pamphlet containing numerous cases was published in Leipsic in 1881 by two Swiss investigators, Messrs. Bleuler and Lehmann.[9] One of the authors had the faculty very strongly, and the other had not; so they worked conjointly with advantage. They carefully tabulated the particulars of sixty-two cases. As my present object is to subordinate details to the general impression that I wish to convey of the peculiarities of different minds, I will simply remark—First, that the persistence of the colour association with sounds is fully as remarkable as that of the Number-Form with numbers. Secondly, that the vowel sounds chiefly evoke them. Thirdly, that the seers are invariably most minute in their description of the precise tint and hue of the colour. They are never satisfied, for instance, with saying "blue," but will take a great deal of trouble to express or to match the particular blue they mean. Fourthly, that no two people agree, or hardly ever do so, as to the colour they associate with the same sound. Lastly, that the tendency is very hereditary. The publications just mentioned absolve me from the necessity of giving many extracts from the numerous letters I have received, but I am particularly anxious to bring the brilliancy of these colour associations more vividly before the reader than is possible by mere description. I have therefore given the elaborately-coloured diagrams in Plate IV., which were copied by the artist directly from the original drawings, and which have been printed by the superimposed impressions of different colours from different lithographic stones. They have been, on the whole, very faithfully executed, and will serve as samples of the most striking cases. Usually the sense of colour is much too vague to enable the seer to reproduce the various tints so definitely as those in this Plate. But this is by no means universally the case.

Fig. 68 is an excellent example of the occasional association of colours with letters. It is by Miss Stones, the head teacher in a high school for girls, who, as I have already mentioned, obtained useful information for me, and has contributed several suggestive remarks of her own. She says:—

"The vowels of the English language always appear to me, when I think of them, as possessing certain colours, of which I enclose a diagram. Consonants, when thought of by themselves, are of a purplish black; but when I think of a whole word, the colour of the consonants tends towards the colour of the vowels. For example, in the word 'Tuesday,' when I think of each letter separately, the consonants are purplish-black, u is a light dove colour, e is a pale emerald green, and a is yellow; but when I think of the whole word together, the first part is a light gray-green, and the latter part yellow. Each word is a distinct whole. I have always associated the same colours with the same letters, and no effort will change the colour of one letter, transferring it to another. Thus the word 'red' assumes a light-green tint, while the word 'yellow' is light-green at the beginning and red at the end. Occasionally, when uncertain how a word should be spelt, I have considered what colour it ought to be, and have decided in that way. I believe this has often been a great help to me in spelling, both in English and foreign languages. The colour of the letters is never smeared or blurred in any way. I cannot recall to mind anything that should have first caused me to associate colours with letters, nor can my mother remember any alphabet or reading-book coloured in the way I have described, which I might have used as a child. I do not associate any idea of colour with musical notes at all, nor with any of the other senses."

She adds:—

"Perhaps you may be interested in the following account from my sister of her visual peculiarities: 'When I think of Wednesday I see a kind of oval flat wash of yellow emerald green; for Tuesday, a gray sky colour; for Thursday, a brown-red irregular polygon; and a dull yellow smudge for Friday.'"

[Footnote 9: Zwangmaessige Lichtempfindungen durch Schall und verwandte Erscheinungen, von E. Bleuler und K. Lehmann. Leipsig, Fues' Verlag (R. Reisland), 1881.]

The latter quotation is a sample of many that I have; I give it merely as another instance of hereditary tendency.

I will insert just one description of other coloured letters than those represented in the Plate. It is from Mrs. H., the married sister of a well-known man of science, who writes:—

"I do not know how it is with others, but to me the colours of vowels are so strongly marked that I hardly understand their appearing of a different colour, or, what is nearly as bad, colourless to any one. To me they are and always have been, as long as I have known them, of the following tints:—"

A, pure white, and like china in texture.

E, red, not transparent; vermilion, with china-white would represent it.

I, light bright yellow; gamboge.

O, black, but transparent; the colour of deep water seen through thick clear ice.

U, purple.

Y, a dingier colour than I.

"The shorter sounds of the vowels are less vivid and pure in colour. Consonants are almost or quite colourless to me, though there is some blackness about M.

"Some association with U in the words blue and purple may account for that colour, and possibly the E in red may have to do with that also; but I feel as if they were independent of suggestions of the kind.

"My first impulse is to say that the association lies solely in the sound of the vowels, in which connection I certainly feel it the most strongly; but then the thought of the distinct redness of such a [printed or written] word as 'great' shows me that the relation must be visual as well as aural. The meaning of words is so unavoidably associated with the sight of them, that I think this association rather overrides the primitive impression of the colour of the vowels, and the word 'violet' reminds me of its proper colour until I look at the word as a mere collection of letters.

"Of my two daughters, one sees the colours quite differently from this (A, blue; E, white; I, black; O, whity-brownish; U, opaque brown). The other is only heterodox on the A and O; A being with her black, and O white. My sister and I never agreed about these colours, and I doubt whether my two brothers feel the chromatic force of the vowels at all."

I give this instance partly on account of the hereditary interest. I could add cases from at least three different families in which the heredity is quite as strongly marked.

Fig. 69 fills the whole of the middle column of Plate IV., and contains specimens from a large series of coloured illustrations, accompanied by many pages of explanation from a correspondent, Dr. James Key of Montagu, Cape Colony. The pictures will tell their own tale sufficiently well. I need only string together a few brief extracts from his letters, as follows:—

"I confess my inability to understand visualised numerals; it is otherwise, however, with regard to colour associations with letters. Ever since childhood these have been distinct and unchanging in my consciousness; sometimes, although very seldom, I have mentioned them, to the amazement of my teachers and the scorn of my comrades. A is brown. I say it most dogmatically, and nothing will ever have the effect, I am convinced, of making it appear otherwise! I can imagine no explanation of this association. [He goes into much detail as to conceivable reasons connected with his childish life to show that none of these would do.] Shades of brown accompany to my mind the various degrees of openness in pronouncing A. I have never been destitute in all my conscious existence of a conviction that E is a clear, cold, light-gray blue. I remember daubing in colours, when quite a little child, the picture of a jockey, whose shirt received a large share of E, as I said to myself while daubing it with grey. [He thinks that the letter I may possibly be associated with black because it contains no open space, and O with white because it does.] The colour of R has been invariably of a copper colour, in which a swarthy blackness seems to intervene, visually corresponding to the trilled pronunciation of R. This same appearance exists also in J, X, and Z."

The upper row of Fig. 69 shows the various shades of brown, associated with different pronunciations of the letter A, as in "fame," "can," "charm," and "all" respectively. The second, third and fourth rows similarly refer to the various pronunciations of the other vowels. Then follow the letters of the alphabet, grouped according to the character of the appearance they suggest. After these come the numerals. Then I give three lines of words such as they appear to him. The first is my own name, the second is "London," and the third is "Visualisation." Proceeding conversely, Dr. Key collected scraps of various patterns of wall paper, and sent them together with the word that the colour of the several patterns suggested to him. Specimens of these are shown in the three bottom lines of the Fig. I have gone through the whole of them with care, together with his descriptions and reasons, and can quite understand his meaning, and how exceedingly complex and refined these associations are. The patterns are to him like words in poetry, which call up associations that any substituted word of a like dictionary meaning would fail to do. It would not, for example, be possible to print words by the use of counters coloured like those in Fig. 69, because the tint of each influences that of its neighbours. It must be understood that my remarks, though based on Dr. Key's diagrams and statements as on a text, do not depend, by any means, wholly upon them, but on numerous other letters from various quarters to the same effect. At the same time I should say that Dr. Key's elaborate drawings and ample explanations, to which I am totally unable to do justice in a moderate space, are the most full and striking of any I have received. His illustrations are on a large scale, and are ingeniously arranged so as to express his meaning.

Persons who have colour associations are unsparingly critical. To ordinary individuals one of these accounts seems just as wild and lunatic as another, but when the account of one seer is submitted to another seer, who is sure to see the colours in a different way, the latter is scandalised and almost angry at the heresy of the former. I submitted this very account of Dr. Key to a lady, the wife of an ex-governor of one of the most important British possessions, who has vivid colour associations of her own, and who, I had some reason to think, might have personal acquaintance with the locality where Dr. Key lives. She could not comprehend his account at all, his colours were so entirely different to those that she herself saw.

I have now completed as much as I propose to say about the quaint phenomena of Visualised Forms of numbers and of dates, and of coloured associations with letters. I shall not extend my remarks to such subjects as a musician hearing mental music, of which I have many cases, nor to fancies concerning the other senses, as none of these are so noteworthy. I am conscious that the reader may desire even more assurance of the trustworthiness of the accounts I have given than the space now at my disposal admits, or than I could otherwise afford without wearisome iteration of the same tale, by multiplying extracts from my large store of material. I feel, too, that it may seem ungracious to many obliging correspondents not to have made more evident use of what they have sent than my few and brief notices permit. Still their end and mine will have been gained, if these remarks and illustrations succeed in leaving a just impression of the vast variety of mental constitution that exists in the world, and how impossible it is for one man to lay his mind strictly alongside that of another, except in the rare instances of close hereditary resemblance.



VISIONARIES.

In the course of my inquiries into visual memory, I was greatly struck by the frequency of the replies in which my informants described themselves as subject to "visions." Those of whom I speak were sane and healthy, but were subject notwithstanding to visual presentations, for which they could not account, and which in a few cases reached the level of hallucinations. This unexpected prevalence of a visionary tendency among persons who form a part of ordinary society seems to me suggestive and well worthy of being put on record. The images described by different persons varied greatly in distinctness, some were so faint and evanescent as to appear unworthy of serious notice; others left a deep impression, and others again were so vivid as actually to deceive the judgment. All of these belong to the same category, and it is the assurance of their common origin that affords justification for directing scientific attention to what many may be inclined to contemptuously disregard as the silly vagaries of vacant minds.

The lowest order of phenomena that admit of being classed as visions are the "Number-Forms" to which I have just drawn attention. They are in each case absolutely unchangable, except through a gradual development in complexity. Their diversity is endless, and the Number-Forms of different persons are mutually unintelligible. These strange "visions," for such they must be called, are extremely vivid in some cases, but are almost incredible to the vast majority of mankind, who would set them down as fantastic nonsense; nevertheless, they are familiar parts of the mental furniture of the rest, in whose imaginations they have been unconsciously formed, and where they remain unmodified and unmodifiable by teaching. I have received many touching accounts of their childish experiences from persons who see the Number-Forms, and other curious visions of which I have spoken or shall speak. As is the case with the colour-blind, so with these seers. They imagined at first that everybody else had the same way of regarding things as themselves. Then they betrayed their peculiarities by some chance remark that called forth a stare of surprise, followed by ridicule and a sharp scolding for their silliness, so that the poor little things shrank back into themselves, and never ventured again to allude to their inner world. I will quote just one of many similar letters as a sample. I received it, together with much interesting information, immediately after a lecture I gave to the British Association at Swansea, in which I had occasion to speak of the Number-Forms. The writer says:—

"I had no idea for many years that every one did not imagine numbers in the same positions as those in which they appear to me. One unfortunate day I spoke of it, and was sharply rebuked for my absurdity. Being a very sensitive child I felt this acutely, but nothing ever shook my belief that, absurd or not, I always saw numbers in this particular way. I began to be ashamed of what I considered a peculiarity, and to imagine myself, from this and various other mental beliefs and states, as somewhat isolated and peculiar. At your lecture the other night, though I am now over twenty-nine, the memory of my childish misery at the dread of being peculiar came over me so strongly that I felt I must thank you for proving that, in this particular at any rate, my case is most common."

The next sort of vision that flashes unaccountably into existence is the instant association in some persons of colour with sound, which was spoken of in the last chapter, and on which I need not say more now.

A third curious and abiding fantasy of certain persons is invariably to connect visualised pictures with words, the same picture to the same word. These are perceived by many in a vague, fleeting, and variable way, but to a few they appear strangely vivid and permanent. I have collected many cases of this peculiarity, and am much indebted to the authoress, Mrs. Haweis, who sees these pictures, for her kindness in sketching some of them for me, and for permitting me to use her name in guarantee of their genuineness. She says:—

"Printed words have always had faces to me; they had definite expressions, and certain faces made me think of certain words. The words had no connection with these except sometimes by accident. The instances I give are few and ridiculous. When I think of the word Beast, it has a face something like a gargoyle. The word Green has also a gargoyle face, with the addition of big teeth. The word Blue blinks and looks silly, and turns to the right. The word Attention has the eyes greatly turned to the left. It is difficult to draw them properly because, like Alice's 'Cheshire cat,' which at times became a grin without a cat, these faces have expression without features. The expression of course" [note the naive phrase "of course."—F.G.] "depends greatly on those of the letters, which have likewise their faces and figures. All the little a's turn their eyes to the left, this determines the eyes of Attention. Ant, however, looks a little down. Of course these faces are endless as words are, and it makes my head ache to retain them long enough to draw."

Some of the figures are very quaint. Thus the interrogation "what?" always excites the idea of a fat man cracking a long whip. They are not the capricious creations of the fancy of the moment, but are the regular concomitants of the words, and have been so as far back as the memory is able to recall.

When in perfect darkness, if the field of view be carefully watched, many persons will find a perpetual series of changes to be going on automatically and wastefully in it. I have much evidence of this. I will give my own experience the first, which is striking to me, because I am very unimpressionable in these matters. I visualise with effort; I am peculiarly inapt to see "after-images," "phosphenes," "light-dust," and other phenomena due to weak sight or sensitiveness; and, again, before I thought of carefully trying, I should have emphatically declared that my field of view in the dark was essentially of a uniform black, subject to an occasional light-purple cloudiness and other small variations. Now, however, after habituating myself to examine it with the same sort of strain that one tries to decipher a signpost in the dark, I have found out that this is by no means the case, but that a kaleidoscopic change of patterns and forms is continually going on, but they are too fugitive and elaborate for me to draw with any approach to truth. I am astonished at their variety, and cannot guess in the remotest degree the cause of them. They disappear out of sight and memory the instant I begin to think about anything, and it is curious to me that they should often be so certainly present and yet be habitually overlooked. If they were more vivid, the case would be very different, and it is most easily conceivable that some very slight physiological change, short of a really morbid character, would enhance their vividness. My own deficiencies, however, are well supplied by other drawings in my possession. These are by the Rev. George Henslow, whose visions are far more vivid than mine. His experiences are not unlike those of Goethe, who said, in an often-quoted passage, that whenever he bent his head and closed his eyes and thought of a rose, a sort of rosette made its appearance, which would not keep its shape steady for a moment, but unfolded from within, throwing out a succession of petals, mostly red but sometimes green, and that it continued to do so without change in brightness and without causing him any fatigue so long as he cared to watch it. Mr. Henslow, when he shuts his eyes and waits, is sure in a short time to see before him the clear image of some object or other, but usually not quite natural in its shape. It then begins to change from one form to another, in his case also for as long a time as he cares to watch it. Mr. Henslow has zealously made repeated experiments on himself, and has drawn what he sees. He has also tried how far he is able to mould the visions according to his will. In one case, after much effort, he contrived to bring the imagery back to its starting-point, and thereby to form what he terms a "visual cycle." The following account is extracted and condensed from his very interesting letter, and will explain the illustrations copied from his drawings that are given in Plate IV.

Fig. 70. The first image that spontaneously presented itself was a cross-bow (1); this was immediately provided with an arrow (2), remarkable for its pronounced barb and superabundance of feathering. Some person, but too indistinct to recognise much more of him than the hands, appeared to shoot the arrow from the bow. The single arrow was then accompanied by a flight of arrows from right to left, which completely occupied the field of vision. These changed into falling stars, then into flakes of a heavy snowstorm; the ground gradually appeared as a sheet of snow where previously there had been vacant space. Then a well-known rectory, fish-ponds, walls, etc., all covered with snow, came into view most vividly and clearly defined. This somehow suggested another view, impressed on his mind in childhood, of a spring morning, brilliant sun, and a bed of red tulips: the tulips gradually vanished except one, which appeared now to be isolated and to stand in the usual point of sight. It was a single tulip, but became double. The petals then fell off rapidly in a continuous series until there was nothing left but the pistil (3), but (as is almost invariably the case with his objects) that part was greatly exaggerated. The stigmas then changed into three branching brown horns (4); then into a knob (5), while the stalk changed into a stick. A slight bend in it seems to have suggested a centre-bit (6); this passed into a sort of pin passing through a metal plate (7), this again into a lock (8), and afterwards into a nondescript shape (9), distantly suggestive of the original cross-bow. Here Mr. Henslow endeavoured to force his will upon the visions, and to reproduce the cross-bow, but the first attempt was an utter failure. The figure changed into a leather strap with loops (10), but while he still endeavoured to change it into a bow the strap broke, the two ends were separated, but it happened that an imaginary string connected them (11). This was the first concession of his automatic chain of thoughts to his will. By a continued effort the bow came (12), and then no difficulty was felt in converting it into the cross-bow, and thus returning to the starting-point. Fig. 71. Mr. Henslow writes:—

"Though I can usually summon up any object thought of, it not only is somewhat different from the real thing, but it rapidly changes. The changes are in many cases clearly due to a suggestiveness in the article of something else, but not always so, as in some cases hereafter described. It is not at ail necessary to think of any particular object at first, as something is sure to come spontaneously within a minute or two. Some object having once appeared, the automatism of the brain will rapidly induce the series of changes. The images are sometimes very numerous, and very rapid in succession: very frequently of great beauty and highly brilliant. Cut glass (far more elaborate than I am conscious of ever having seen), highly chased gold and silver filigree ornaments; gold and silver flower-stands, etc.; elaborate coloured patterns of carpets in brilliant tints are not uncommon.