seeks to represent to himself more or less the figures he studies, but his representations are for him only instruments; in making geometry he uses space just as he does chalk; so too much weight should not be attached to non-essentials, often of no more importance than the whiteness of the chalk.
The pure analyst has not this rock to fear. He has disengaged the science of mathematics from all foreign elements, and can answer our question: 'What exactly is this continuum about which mathematicians reason?' Many analysts who reflect on their art have answered already; Monsieur Tannery, for example, in his Introduction à la théorie des fonctions d'une variable.
Let us start from the scale of whole numbers; between two consecutive steps, intercalate one or more intermediary steps, then between these new steps still others, and so on indefinitely. Thus we shall have an unlimited number of terms; these will be the numbers called fractional, rational or commensurable. But this is not yet enough; between these terms, which, however, are already infinite in number, it is still necessary to intercalate others called irrational or incommensurable. A remark before going further. The continuum so conceived is only a collection of individuals ranged in a certain order, infinite in number, it is true, but exterior to one another. This is not the ordinary conception, wherein is supposed between the elements of the continuum a sort of intimate bond which makes of them a whole, where the point does not exist before the line, but the line before the point. Of the celebrated formula, 'the continuum is unity in multiplicity,' only the multiplicity remains, the unity has disappeared. The analysts are none the less right in defining their continuum as they do, for they always reason on just this as soon as they pique themselves on their rigor. But this is enough to apprise us that the veritable mathematical continuum is a very different thing from that of the physicists and that of the metaphysicians.
It may also be said perhaps that the mathematicians who are content with this definition are dupes of words, that it is necessary to say precisely what each of these intermediary steps is, to explain how they are to be intercalated and to demonstrate that it is possible to do it. But that would be wrong; the only property of these steps which is used in their reasonings[2] is that of being before or after such and such steps; therefore also this alone should occur in the definition.
So how the intermediary terms should be intercalated need not concern us; on the other hand, no one will doubt the possibility of this operation, unless from forgetting that possible, in the language of geometers, simply means free from contradiction.
Our definition, however, is not yet complete, and I return to it after this over-long digression.
Definition of Incommensurables.—The mathematicians of the Berlin school, Kronecker in particular, have devoted themselves to constructing this continuous scale of fractional and irrational numbers without using any material other than the whole number. The mathematical continuum would be, in this view, a pure creation of the mind, where experience would have no part.
The notion of the rational number seeming to them to present no difficulty, they have chiefly striven to define the incommensurable number. But before producing here their definition, I must make a remark to forestall the astonishment it is sure to arouse in readers unfamiliar with the customs of geometers.
Mathematicians study not objects, but relations between objects; the replacement of these objects by others is therefore indifferent to them, provided the relations do not change. The matter is for them unimportant, the form alone interests them.
Without recalling this, it would scarcely be comprehensible that Dedekind should designate by the name incommensurable number a mere symbol, that is to say, something very different from the ordinary idea of a quantity, which should be measurable and almost tangible.
Let us see now what Dedekind's definition is:
The commensurable numbers can in an infinity of ways be partitioned into two classes, such that any number of the first class is greater than any number of the second class.
It may happen that among the numbers of the first class there is one smaller than all the others; if, for example, we range in the first class all numbers greater than 2, and 2 itself, and in the second class all numbers less than 2, it is clear that 2 will be the least of all numbers of the first class. The number 2 may be chosen as symbol of this partition.
It may happen, on the contrary, that among the numbers of the second class is one greater than all the others; this is the case, for example, if the first class comprehends all numbers greater than 2, and the second all numbers less than 2, and 2 itself. Here again the number 2 may be chosen as symbol of this partition.
But it may equally well happen that neither is there in the first class a number less than all the others, nor in the second class a number greater than all the others. Suppose, for example, we put in the first class all commensurable numbers whose squares are greater than 2 and in the second all whose squares are less than 2. There is none whose square is precisely 2. Evidently there is not in the first class a number less than all the others, for, however near the square of a number may be to 2, we can always find a commensurable number whose square is still closer to 2.
In Dedekind's view, the incommensurable number
√2 or (2)½
is nothing but the symbol of this particular mode of partition of commensurable numbers; and to each mode of partition corresponds thus a number, commensurable or not, which serves as its symbol.
But to be content with this would be to forget too far the origin of these symbols; it remains to explain how we have been led to attribute to them a sort of concrete existence, and, besides, does not the difficulty begin even for the fractional numbers themselves? Should we have the notion of these numbers if we had not previously known a matter that we conceive as infinitely divisible, that is to say, a continuum?
The Physical Continuum.—We ask ourselves then if the notion of the mathematical continuum is not simply drawn from experience. If it were, the raw data of experience, which are our sensations, would be susceptible of measurement. We might be tempted to believe they really are so, since in these latter days the attempt has been made to measure them and a law has even been formulated, known as Fechner's law, according to which sensation is proportional to the logarithm of the stimulus.
But if we examine more closely the experiments by which it has been sought to establish this law, we shall be led to a diametrically opposite conclusion. It has been observed, for example, that a weight A of 10 grams and a weight B of 11 grams produce identical sensations, that the weight B is just as indistinguishable from a weight C of 12 grams, but that the weight A is easily distinguished from the weight C. Thus the raw results of experience may be expressed by the following relations:
A = B, B = C, A < C,
which may be regarded as the formula of the physical continuum.
But here is an intolerable discord with the principle of contradiction, and the need of stopping this has compelled us to invent the mathematical continuum.
We are, therefore, forced to conclude that this notion has been created entirely by the mind, but that experience has given the occasion.
We can not believe that two quantities equal to a third are not equal to one another, and so we are led to suppose that A is different from B and B from C, but that the imperfection of our senses has not permitted of our distinguishing them.
Creation of the Mathematical Continuum.—First Stage. So far it would suffice, in accounting for the facts, to
