ii.l THE FUNCTION OF THE INTELLECT 163 



in the field in which our industry, and consequently our 

 intellect, is engaged. 



Just as we separate in space, we fix in time. The in- 

 tellect is not made to think evolution, in the proper sense 

 of the word — that is to say, the continuity of a change 

 that is pure mobility. We shall not dwell here on this 

 point, which we propose to study in a special chapter. 

 Suffice it to say that the intellect represents becoming as 

 a series of states, each of which is homogeneous with itself 

 and consequently does not change. Is our attention 

 called to the internal change of one of these states? At 

 once we decompose it into another series of states which, 

 reunited, will be supposed to make up this internal modi- 

 fication. Each of these new states must be invariable, 

 or else their internal change, if we are forced to notice 

 it, must be resolved again into a fresh series of invariable 

 states, and so on to infinity. Here again, thinking con- 

 sists in reconstituting, and, naturally, it is with given 

 elements, and consequently with stable elements, that we 

 reconstitute. So that, though we may do our best to 

 imitate the mobility of becoming by an addition that is 

 ever going on, becoming itself slips through our fingers just 

 when we think we are holding it tight. 



Precisely because it is always trying to reconstitute, 

 and to reconstitute with what is given, the intellect lets 

 what is new in each moment of a history escape. It 

 does not admit the unforeseeable. It rejects all creation. 

 That definite antecedents bring forth a definite consequent, 

 calculable as a function of them, is what satisfies our 

 intellect. That a definite end calls forth definite means 

 to attain it, is what we also understand. In both cases 

 we have to do with the known which is combined with the 

 known, in short, with the old which is repeated. Our 

 intellect is there at its ease; and, whatever be the object, 



