But there exists no system isolated from all external action; all the parts of the universe are subject more or less to the action of all the other parts. The law of the motion of the center of gravity is rigorously true only if applied to the entire universe.
But then, to get from it the values of the masses, it would be necessary to observe the motion of the center of gravity of the universe. The absurdity of this consequence is manifest; we know only relative motions; the motion of the center of gravity of the universe will remain for us eternally unknown.
Therefore nothing remains and our efforts have been fruitless; we are driven to the following definition, which is only an avowal of powerlessness: masses are coefficients it is convenient to introduce into calculations.
We could reconstruct all mechanics by attributing different values to all the masses. This new mechanics would not be in contradiction either with experience or with the general principles of dynamics (principle of inertia, proportionality of forces to masses and to accelerations, equality of action and reaction, rectilinear and uniform motion of the center of gravity, principle of areas).
Only the equations of this new mechanics would be less simple. Let us understand clearly: it would only be the first terms which would be less simple, that is those experience has already made us acquainted with; perhaps one could alter the masses by small quantities without the complete equations gaining or losing in simplicity.
Hertz has raised the question whether the principles of mechanics are rigorously true. "In the opinion of many physicists," he says, "it is inconceivable that the remotest experience should ever change anything in the immovable principles of mechanics; and yet, what comes from experience may always be rectified by experience." After what we have just said, these fears will appear groundless.
The principles of dynamics at first appeared to us as experimental truths; but we have been obliged to use them as definitions. It is by definition that force is equal to the product of mass by acceleration; here, then, is a principle which is henceforth beyond the reach of any further experiment. It is in the same way by definition that action is equal to reaction.
But then, it will be said, these unverifiable principles are absolutely devoid of any significance; experiment can not contradict them; but they can teach us nothing useful; then what is the use of studying dynamics?
This over-hasty condemnation would be unjust. There is not in nature any system perfectly isolated, perfectly removed from all external action; but there are systems almost isolated.
If such a system be observed, one may study not only the relative motion of its various parts one in reference to another, but also the motion of its center of gravity in reference to the other parts of the universe. We ascertain then that the motion of this center of gravity is almost rectilinear and uniform, in conformity with Newton's third law.
That is an experimental truth, but it can not be invalidated by experience; in fact, what would a more precise experiment teach us? It would teach us that the law was only almost true; but that we knew already.
We can now understand how experience has been able to serve as basis for the principles of mechanics and yet will never be able to contradict them.
Anthropomorphic Mechanics.—"Kirchhoff," it will be said, "has only acted in obedience to the general tendency of mathematicians toward nominalism; from this his ability as a physicist has not saved him. He wanted a definition of force, and he took for it the first proposition that presented itself; but we need no definition of force: the idea of force is primitive, irreducible, indefinable; we all know what it is, we have a direct intuition of it. This direct intuition comes from the notion of effort, which is familiar to us from infancy."
But first, even though this direct intuition made known to us the real nature of force in itself, it would be insufficient as a foundation for mechanics; it would besides be wholly useless. What is of importance is not to know what force is, but to know how to measure it.
Whatever does not teach us to measure it is as useless to mechanics as is, for instance, the subjective notion of warmth and cold to the physicist who is studying heat. This subjective notion can not be translated into numbers, therefore it is of no use; a scientist whose skin was an absolutely bad conductor of heat and who, consequently, would never have felt either sensations of cold or sensations of warmth, could read a thermometer just as well as any one else, and that would suffice him for constructing the whole theory of heat.
Now this immediate notion of effort is of no use to us for measuring force; it is clear, for instance, that I should feel more fatigue in lifting a weight of fifty kilos than a man accustomed to carry burdens.
But more than that: this notion of effort does not teach us the real nature of force; it reduces itself finally to a remembrance of muscular sensations, and it will hardly be maintained that the sun feels a muscular sensation when it draws the earth.
All that can there be sought is a symbol, less precise and less convenient than the arrows the geometers use, but just as remote from the reality.
Anthropomorphism has played a considerable historic rôle in the genesis of mechanics; perhaps it will still at times furnish a symbol which will appear convenient to some minds; but it can not serve as foundation for anything of a truly scientific or philosophic character.
'The School of the Thread.'—M. Andrade, in his Leçons de mécanique physique, has rejuvenated anthropomorphic mechanics. To the school of mechanics to which Kirchhoff belongs, he opposes that which he bizarrely calls the school of the thread.
This school tries to reduce everything to "the consideration of certain material systems of negligible mass, envisaged in the state of tension and capable of transmitting considerable efforts to distant bodies, systems of which the ideal type is the thread."
A thread which transmits any force is slightly elongated under the action of this force; the direction of the thread tells us the direction of the force, whose magnitude is measured by the elongation of the thread.
One may then conceive an experiment such as this. A body A is attached to a thread; at the other extremity of the thread any force acts which varies until the thread takes an elongation α; the acceleration of the body A is noted; A is detached and the body B attached to the same thread; the same force or another force acts anew, and is made to vary until the thread takes again the elongation α; the acceleration of the body B is noted. The experiment is then renewed with both A and B, but so that the thread takes the elongation ßβ. The four observed accelerations should be proportional. We have thus an experimental verification of the law of acceleration above enunciated.
Or still better, a body is submitted to the simultaneous action of several identical threads in equal tension, and by experiment it is sought what must be the orientations of all these threads that the body may remain in equilibrium. We have then an experimental verification of the law of the composition of forces.
But, after all, what have we done? We have defined the force to which the thread is subjected by the deformation undergone by this thread, which is reasonable enough; we have further assumed that if a body is attached to this thread, the effort transmitted to it by the thread is equal to the action this body exercises on this thread; after all, we have therefore used the principle of the equality of action and reaction, in considering it, not as an experimental truth, but as the very definition of force.
This definition is just as conventional as Kirchhoff's, but far less general.
All forces are not transmitted by threads (besides, to be able to compare them, they would all have to be transmitted by identical threads). Even if it should be conceded that the earth is attached to the sun by some invisible thread, at least it would be admitted that we have no means of measuring its elongation.
Nine times out of ten, consequently,