第43章

In the first place, in every list of intervals experimented with there will be found what Vierordt calls an 'INDIFFERENCE-POINT;' that is to say, an interval which we judge with maximum accuracy, a time which we tend to estimate as neither longer or shorter than it really is, and away from which, in both directions, errors increase their size.

This time varies from one observer to another, but its average is remarkably constant, as the following table shows.

The times, noted by the ear, and the average indifference-points (given in seconds) were, for -- Wundt.............................................0.72

Kollert.............................................0.75

Estel (probably)........................................0.75

Mehner.................................................0.71

Stevens.............................................0.71

Mach..............................................0.35

Buccola (about)...................................0.40 The odd thing about these figures is the recurrence they show in so many men of about three fourths of a second, as the interval of time most easy to catch and reproduce.Odder still, both Estel and Mehner found that multiples of this time were more accurately reproduced than the time-intervals of intermediary length; and Glass found a certain periodicity, with the constant increment of 1.25 sec., in his observations.

There would seem thus to exist something like a periodic or rhythmic sharpening of our time-sense, of which the period differs somewhat from one observer to the next.

Our sense of time , like other senses, seems subject to the law of contrast.It appeared pretty plainly in Estel's observations that an interval sounded shorter if a long one had immediately preceded it, and longer when the opposite was the case.

Like other senses, too, our sense of time is sharpened by practice.

Mehner ascribes almost all the discrepancies between other observers and himself to this cause alone.

Tracks of time filled (with clicks of sound) seem longer than vacant ones of the same duration, when the latter does not exceed a second or two. This, which reminds one of what happens with spaces seen by the eye, becomes reversed when longer times are taken.It is, perhaps, in accordance with this law that a loud sound, limiting a short interval of time, makes it appear longer, a slight sound shorter.

In comparing intervals marked out by sounds, we must take care to keep the sounds uniform.

There is a certain emotional feeling accompanying the intervals of time, as is well known in music.The sense of haste goes with one measure of rapidity, that of delay with another ; and these two feelings harmonize with different mental moods.Vierordt listened to series of strokes performed by a metronome at rates varying from 40 to 200 a minute, and found that they very naturally fell into seven categories, from 'very slow' to 'very fast.' Each category of feeling included the intervals following each other within a certain range of speed, and no others.This is a qualitative, not a quantitative judgment -- an æsthetic judgment, in fact.The middle category, of speed that was neutral, or, as he calls it, 'adequate,' contained intervals that were grouped about 0.62 second, and Vierordt says that this made what one might almost call an agreeable time.

The feeling of time and accent in music, of rhythm, is quite independent of that of melody.Tunes with marked rhythm can be readily recognized when simply drummed on the table with the finger-tips.WE HAVE NO SENSE FOR EMPTY TIME.

Although subdividing the time by beats of sensation aids our accurate knowledge of the amount of it that elapses, such subdivision does not seem at the first glance essential to our perception of its flow.Let one sit with closed eyes and, abstracting entirely from the outer world, attend exclusively to the passage of time, like one who wakes, as the poet says, "to hear time flowing in the middle of the night, and all things moving to a day of doom." There seems under such circumstances as these no variety in the material content of our thought, and what we notice appears, if anything, to be the pure series of durations budding, as it were, and growing beneath our indrawn gaze.Is this really so or not? The question is important, for, if the experience be what it roughly seems, we have a sort of special sense for pure time -- a sense to which empty duration is an adequate stimulus;

while if it be an illusion, it must be that our perception of time's flight, in the experiences quoted, is due to the filling of the time, and to our memory of a content which it had a moment previous, and which we feel to agree or disagree with its content now.