Whether it has been “The Death of Woman Wang” (1978), “God’s Chinese Son: The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom of Hong Xiuquan” (1996), or his “Mao: A Life” (1999), Jonathan Spence has always done his best work in the form of compelling biography. The life of an almost completely unknown late-sixteenth-century Italian-born Jesuit doesn’t exactly seem like a compelling place to quarry for such a fascinating story. Some lives, like those of Hong Xiuquan and Mao, naturally lend themselves to storytelling. But in “The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci,” Spence uses the concept of the memory palace as a launching pad to tell Ricci’s story and to build a present the world as he might have experienced it.
The title of the current book led me a bit astray into thinking that this would detail the memory palace (a sometimes tremendously complex, interwoven set mnemonic techniques that were first popularized in the ancient world and then had a fabulous re-birth in the Middle Ages and reached their height of popularity around the time Ricci was working). In most of its incarnations, the memory palace would consist an entire episteme of human knowledge that needed to be dedicated to memory (for example, all of the literature that needed to be memorized to successfully pass the notoriously difficult Ming Dynasty civil servants’ exam). The practitioner would imagine putting each object or idea in one location in the memory palace - on the hat rack in the foyer, under the pillow in the fourth bedroom, et cetera – thereby creating an everlasting link between thing and place that would allow all the details about the idea to come flooding back once it was retrieved from the palace. (For further information about the memory palace, please see the last paragraph of this review.)
Over the course of the book, Spence introduces four Chinese ideographs from Ricci’s Jifa, his Chinese-language treatise on the memory palace, which allow for the exploration of contemporary historical and religious themes. For example, Ricci’s memory palace’s image of wu (martial) gives Spence the opportunity to compare the hyper-militarized region of Ricci’s birthplace of Macerata (a papal state) compared to the more halcyon environs of China. This only serves as a broader tool to open the book up for a cross-cultural consideration of how Ricci’s counter-Reformation “Europeness” affected and diffused through China.
Born and raised in Italy, Ricci headed off to China in 1582 and would remain there until his death 28 years later. Much as the soldiers surrounding Macerata were armed with weapons, Ricci was armed with Catholicism. He was educated by a generation-old branch of the Catholic Church meant to provide a rigorous critique of the Reformation which would then send out thousands of its members to proselytize all over the world – the Jesuits, or the Society of Jesus. While never able to fully escape the ethnocentrism that brought him to China in the first place, Ricci’s attempts to understand the Chinese on their own linguistic, technological, and culture terms were both immense and sincere. In 1596, he wrote his mnemonic treatise in Chinese (a small sign of his dedication and perseverance), and presented it to the Governor of Jiangxi Province.
Ricci died in 1610 without ever having seen much of the missionary progress that he invariably was hoping for. Nevertheless, the intellectual exchanges that he made and the friendships that he established with the elite members of Chinese society, along with the early establishment of the early Chinese Christian missionary work, together make for some fascinating cultural history. Despite being very much being of his century, Ricci’s diplomacy, prudence, and ruthless intellect come together to forecast a very mixed bag of relationships over the next four centuries.
It should be noted that this book only superficially touches on the technical aspects of the memory palace itself, instead choosing to spend most of its time on other material. There is one wonderful book, however, that includes a fairly exhaustive historical consideration of the memory palace – Frances Yates’ “The Art of Memory” (1966), which is still thankfully in print and widely available.
For those interested, Yates is also perhaps one of the most recognizable – and talented – popularizers of Western esoterica (she’s certainly not an apologist for these methods, but is a scrupulous scholar) whose book on the relationship between Giordano Bruno’s intellectual connections with the ancient hermetic traditions (1964) is one of the best I’ve ever read on the topic.