Book 2 — CHAPTER X. Of the Perception of Time and Number.

1. OUR perception of the passage of time involves a series of acts of memory. This is easily seen and assented to, when large intervals of time and a complex train of occurrences are concerned. But since memory is requisite in order to apprehend time in such cases, we cannot doubt that the same faculty must be concerned in the shortest and simplest cases of succession; for it will hardly be maintained that the process by which we contemplate the progress of time is different, when small, and when large intervals are concerned. If memory be absolutely requisite to connect two events which begin and end a day, and to perceive a tract of time between them, it must be equally indispensable to connect the beginning and end of a minute, or a second; though in this case the effort may be smaller, and consequently more easily overlooked. In common cases, we are unconscious of the act of thought by which we recollect the preceding instant, though we perceive the effort when we recollect some distant event. And this is analogous to what happens in other instances. Thus, we walk without being conscious of the volitions by which we move our muscles; but, in order to leap, a distinct and manifest exertion of the same muscles is necessary. Yet no one will doubt that we walk as well as leap by an act of the will exerted through the muscles; and in like manner, our consciousness of small as well as large intervals of time involves something of the nature of an act of memory.

2. But this constant and almost imperceptible kind of memory, by which we connect the beginning and end of each instant as it passes, may very fitly be distinguished in common cases from manifest acts of recollection, although it may be difficult or impossible to separate the two operations in general. This perpetual and latent kind of memory may be termed a sense of successiveness; and must be considered as an internal sense by which we perceive ourselves existing in time, much in the same way as by our external and muscular sense we perceive ourselves existing in space. And both our internal thoughts and feelings, and the events which take place around us, are apprehended as objects of this internal sense, and thus as taking place in time.

3. In the same manner in which our interpretation of the notices of the muscular sense implies the power of moving our limbs, and of touching at will this object or that; our apprehension of the relations of time, by means of the internal sense of successiveness, implies a power of recalling what has past, and of retaining what is passing. We are able to seize the occurrences which have just taken place, and to hold them fast in our minds so as mentally to measure their distance in time from occurrences now present. And thus, this sense of successiveness, like the muscular sense with which we have compared it, implies activity of the mind itself, and is not a sense passively receiving impressions.

4. The conception of Number appears to require the exercise of the same sense of succession. At first sight, indeed, we seem to apprehend Number without any act of memory, or any reference to time: for example, we look at a horse, and see that his legs are four; and this we seem to do at once, without reckoning them. But it is not difficult to see that this seeming instantaneousness of the perception of small numbers is an illusion. This resembles the many other cases in which we perform short and easy acts so rapidly and familiarly that we are unconscious of them; as in the acts of seeing, and of articulating our words. And this is the more manifest, since we begin our acquaintance with number by counting even the smallest numbers. Children and very rude savages must use an effort to reckon even their five fingers, and find a difficulty in going further. And persons have been known who were able by habit, or by a peculiar natural aptitude, to count by dozens as rapidly as common persons can by units. We may conclude, therefore, that when we appear to catch a small number by a single glance of the eye, we do in fact count the units of it in a regular, though very brief succession. To count requires an act of memory. Of this we are sensible when we count very slowly, as when we reckon the strokes of a church-clock; for in such a case we may forget in the intervals of the strokes, and miscount. Now it will not be doubted that the nature of the process in counting is the same whether we count fast or slow. There is no definite speed of reckoning at which the faculties which it requires are changed; and therefore memory, which is requisite in some cases, must be so in all13.

The act of counting, (one, two, three, and so on,) is the foundation of all our knowledge of number. The intuition of the relations of number involves this act of counting; for, as we have just seen, the conception of number cannot be obtained in any other way. And thus the whole of theoretical arithmetic depends upon an act of the mind, and upon the conditions which the exercise of that act implies. These have been already explained in the last chapter.

5. But if the apprehension of number be accompanied by an act of the mind, the apprehension of rhythm is so still more clearly. All the forms of versification and the measures of melodies are the creations of man, who thus realizes in words and sounds the forms of recurrence which rise within his own mind. When we hear in a quiet scene any rapidly-repeated sound, as those made by the hammer of the smith or the saw of the carpenter, every one knows how insensibly we throw these noises into a rhythmical form in our own apprehension. We do this even without any suggestion from the sounds themselves. For instance, if the beats of a clock or watch be ever so exactly alike, we still reckon them alternately tick-tack, tick-tack. That this is the case, may be proved by taking a watch or clock of such a construction that the returning swing of the pendulum is silent, and in which therefore all the beats are rigorously alike: we shall find ourselves still reckoning its sounds as tick-tack. In this instance it is manifest that the rhythm is entirely of our own making. In melodies, also, and in verses in which the rhythm is complex, obscure and difficult, we perceive something is required on our part; for we are often incapable of contributing our share, and thus lose the sense of the measure altogether. And when we consider such cases, and attend to what passes within us when we catch the measure, even of the simplest and best-known air, we shall no longer doubt that an act of our own thoughts is requisite in such cases, as well as impressions on the sense. And thus the conception of this peculiar modification of time, which we have called rhythm, like all the other views which we have taken of the subject, shows that we must, in order to form such conceptions, supply a certain idea by our own thoughts, as well as merely receive by senses, whether external or internal, the impressions of appearances and collections of appearances.