CHAPTER XII

HOW TO REMEMBER FACES

The memory of faces is closely connected with the memory of names, and yet the two are not always associated, for there are many people who easily remember faces, and yet forget names, and vice versa. In some ways, however, the memory of faces is a necessary precedent for the recollection of the names of people. For unless we recall the face, we are unable to make the necessary association with the name of the person. We have given a number of instances of face-memory, in our chapter on name-memory, in which are given instances of the wonderful memory of celebrated individuals who acquired a knowledge and memory of the thousands of citizens of a town, or city, or the soldiers of an army. In this chapter, however, we shall pay attention only to the subject of the recollection of the features of persons, irrespective of their names. This faculty is possessed by all persons, but in varying degrees. Those in whom it is well developed seem to recognize the faces of persons whom they have met years before, and to associate them with the circumstances in which they last met them, even where the name escapes the memory. Others seem to forget a face the moment it passes from view, and fail to recognize the same persons whom they met only a few hours before, much to their mortification and chagrin.

Detectives, newspaper reporters, and others who come in contact with many people, usually have this faculty largely developed, for it becomes a necessity of their work, and their interest and attention is rendered active thereby. Public men often have this faculty largely developed by reason of the necessities of their life. It is said that James G. Blaine never forgot the face of anyone whom he had met and conversed with a few moments. This faculty rendered him very popular in political life. In this respect he resembled Henry Clay, who was noted for his memory of faces. It is related of Clay that he once paid a visit of a few hours to a small town in Mississippi, on an electioneering tour. Amidst the throng surrounding him was an old man, with one eye missing. The old fellow pressed forward crying out that he was sure that Henry Clay would remember him. Clay took a sharp look at him and said: "I met you in Kentucky many years ago, did I not?" "Yes," replied the man. "Did you lose your eye since then?" asked Clay. "Yes, several years after," replied the old man. "Turn your face side-ways, so that I can see your profile," said Clay. The man did so. Then Clay smiled, triumphantly, saying: "I've got you now—weren't you on that jury in the Innes case at Frankfort, that I tried in the United States Court over twenty years ago?" "Yes siree!" said the man, "I knowed that ye know me, 'n I told 'em you would." And the crowd gave a whoop, and Clay knew that he was safe in that town and county.