It must not be forgotten that the general principles of thermodynamics—the latest form of the concept of natural causality—are not absolute, but are proposed as ideal. We know, e. g., that heat can never give rise again to all the work from which it was produced, that no physical event is exactly reversible, i. e. it cannot be reproduced identically at the opposite end of the process, because in its first appearance it had to overcome resistance, and thus lost part of its energy. All this, however, is outside our scope. As much as the doctrine of the conservation of energy is valid, so much is the actual concept of natural causality worth. We merely undertook to follow the evolution of this concept down to the present day, to point out its transformations, without in any way prejudging the future, or still less attributing to it any absolute value.[126]

What now becomes of the idea of causality taken in the other sense, no longer as an invariable relation of antecedent to consequent, but as a thing that acts, creates, modifies, or persists under all transformations and clothes all masks? The scientific method, as soon as it penetrates into any order of phenomena, tends to exclude cause, to reduce it to the strictest limits, to make the least possible use of it. Cause then becomes the synonym of force. But physical science defines force only by its effects:—movement, or work done. So, too, the biologist rejects the notion of “vital force”; non-metaphysical psychology will have none of the “faculties,” intervention of “the soul,” and the like. Is the notion thus discarded, totally suppressed? Nay,—for even in mechanics and physics it cannot be entirely eliminated. It is there as a postulate, a residuum, an unknown factor covering lacunæ. Yet, do what we will, force or energy, in order to be more than an empty word and to become intelligible, can only be represented and imagined under the form of the muscular effort whence it originates, and which is its type; and despite all the elaborations to which it is submitted in order to rid it of its anthropomorphical character, and dehumanise it, it remains rather a fact of internal experience than a concept. Is it destined to undergo other transformations, by reason of more profound apprehension, or some new aspect of the problem? Is there—along with mechanical causality and rigorous determinism—room for any other mode of causality, proper to psychology, to linguistics, to history, in short to the positive sciences of the mind, as is maintained by Wundt and others? The secret remains for the future.

The natural tendency of the mind (which is but one aspect of the instinct of conservation) to seek and investigate in face of the unknown and unexpected, its clear or confused need of explanation for better or worse, at the outset concluded for an acting entity. The idea still survives under a naïve or transcendental form; it reappears in every unexplained contingency, whether in regard to the first origin of things, or (for the partisans of liberty) to freedom of action. In this sense, “causality is an altar to the Unknown God, an empty pedestal that awaits its statue.”[127]

In its other sense, which is widely different and even contrary, which has been slowly fixed, and more slowly extended to the whole of experience, cause is a true concept: the resultant namely of abstraction, summarised in the characters exclusively proper to it. Under this form it is equivalent to the concept of law.

SECTION V. CONCEPT OF LAW.

Our general ideas, from those immediately bordering on the concrete to those which attain pure symbolism, constitute a hierarchy of ever-increasing simplicity. What value must be assigned to this thinking by concepts, in proportion as it ascends higher in the scale? We are all familiar with the debates upon this question, bearing, as it does, fundamentally upon the objective value of abstraction and generalisation. Psychology, as the science of facts, is able to ignore this point, since it is concerned only with the nature of the two intellectual processes, their variations, and adaptations to multiple cases. Still, it is reasonable enough that it should assume a position, at any rate provisionally, and for convenience of discussion.

To recall only the two extreme opinions: On the one side we have those who maintain that the particular alone exists—for event or individual—that our general ideas are but a means of maintaining order, while they teach us nothing as to the nature of things. They are comparable to a catalogue, or to the card-index of a library which are an easy indicator to the millions of books, leaving us totally ignorant as to their contents and value. Hence, the higher we ascend, the farther we penetrate into the region of the fictitious and the vacant.

On the other hand, there are those who assert that nature has general and fixed characteristics; in discovering them, we penetrate into the essence of things. Events and individuals have but a borrowed existence; under their fleeting appearances, we must seek the enduring; and thus, the greater the generalisation, the higher we rise in reality and in dignity.

The psychologist can only take up the position of relativity. To him, general ideas are approximations: they have an objective value, but it is provisional and momentary, dependent on the variability of phenomena and on the state of our knowledge.

On the one hand, the similarities that are the substrata of generalisation are not fictitious. Since, moreover, knowledge of the laws of nature has a practical value, by enabling us to act upon things, and since we fail, in ignorance of them,—we are fain, objections notwithstanding, to attribute to them at least a certain measure of objective value.