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.