This custom is imposed upon physicists by the causes that I have just explained. But how shall we justify it in the presence of discoveries that show us every day new details that are richer and more complex? How shall we even reconcile it with the belief in the unity of nature? For if everything depends on everything, relationships where so many diverse factors enter can no longer be simple.
If we study the history of science, we see happen two inverse phenomena, so to speak. Sometimes simplicity hides under complex appearances; sometimes it is the simplicity which is apparent, and which disguises extremely complicated realities.
What is more complicated than the confused movements of the planets? What simpler than Newton's law? Here nature, making sport, as Fresnel said, of analytical difficulties, employs only simple means, and by combining them produces I know not what inextricable tangle. Here it is the hidden simplicity which must be discovered.
Examples of the opposite abound. In the kinetic theory of gases, one deals with molecules moving with great velocities, whose paths, altered by incessant collisions, have the most capricious forms and traverse space in every direction. The observable result is Mariotte's simple law. Every individual fact was complicated. The law of great numbers has reestablished simplicity in the average. Here the simplicity is merely apparent, and only the coarseness of our senses prevents our perceiving the complexity.
Many phenomena obey a law of proportionality. But why? Because in these phenomena there is something very small. The simple law observed, then, is only a result of the general analytical rule that the infinitely small increment of a function is proportional to the increment of the variable. As in reality our increments are not infinitely small, but very small, the law of proportionality is only approximate, and the simplicity is only apparent. What I have just said applies to the rule of the superposition of small motions, the use of which is so fruitful, and which is the basis of optics.
And Newton's law itself? Its simplicity, so long undetected, is perhaps only apparent. Who knows whether it is not due to some complicated mechanism, to the impact of some subtile matter animated by irregular movements, and whether it has not become simple only through the action of averages and of great numbers? In any case, it is difficult not to suppose that the true law contains complementary terms, which would become sensible at small distances. If in astronomy they are negligible as modifying Newton's law, and if the law thus regains its simplicity, it would be only because of the immensity of celestial distances.
No doubt, if our means of investigation should become more and more penetrating, we should discover the simple under the complex, then the complex under the simple, then again the simple under the complex, and so on, without our being able to foresee what will be the last term.
We must stop somewhere, and that science may be possible we must stop when we have found simplicity. This is the only ground on which we can rear the edifice of our generalizations. But this simplicity being only apparent, will the ground be firm enough? This is what must be investigated.
For that purpose, let us see what part is played in our generalizations by the belief in simplicity. We have verified a simple law in a good many particular cases; we refuse to admit that this agreement, so often repeated, is simply the result of chance, and conclude that the law must be true in the general case.
Kepler notices that a planet's positions, as observed by Tycho, are all on one ellipse. Never for a moment does he have the thought that by a strange play of chance Tycho never observed the heavens except at a moment when the real orbit of the planet happened to cut this ellipse.