Men of Mathematics

E.T. Bell

• Publisher: Touchstone
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781476784250
• Topic: Matemáticas
• Subtopic: Historia y filosofía de las matemáticas

From one of the greatest minds in contemporary mathematics, Professor E.T. Bell, comes a witty, accessible, and fascinating look at the beautiful craft and enthralling history of mathematics. Men of Mathematics provides a rich account of major mathematical milestones, from the geometry of the Greeks through Newton's calculus, and on to the laws of probability, symbolic logic, and the fourth dimension. Bell breaks down this majestic history of ideas into a series of engrossing biographies of the great mathematicians who made progress possible—and who also led intriguing, complicated, and often surprisingly entertaining lives. Never pedantic or dense, Bell writes with clarity and simplicity to distill great mathematical concepts into their most understandable forms for the curious everyday reader. Anyone with an interest in math may learn from these rich lessons, an advanced degree or extensive research is never necessary.

CHAPTER ONE

Introduction

THIS SECTION IS HEADED Introduction rather than Preface (which it really is) in the hope of decoying habitual preface-skippers into reading—for their own comfort—at least the following paragraphs down to the first row of stars before going on to meet some of the great mathematicians. I should like to emphasize first that this book is not intended, in any sense, to be a history of mathematics, or any section of such a history.

The lives of mathematicians presented here are addressed to the general reader and to others who may wish to see what sort of human beings the men were who created modern mathematics. Our object is to lead up to some of the dominating ideas governing vast tracts of mathematics as it exists today and to do this through the lives of the men responsible for those ideas.

Two criteria have been applied in selecting names for inclusion: the importance for modern mathematics of a man’s work; the human appeal of the man’s life and character. Some qualify under both heads, for example Pascal, Abel, and Galois; others, like Gauss and Cayley, chiefly under the first, although both had interesting lives. When these criteria clash or overlap in the case of several claimants to remembrance for a particular advance, the second has been given precedence as we are primarily interested here in mathematicians as human beings.

Of recent years there has been a tremendous surge of general interest in science, particularly physical science, and its bearing on our rapidly changing philosophical outlook on the universe. Numerous excellent accounts of current advances in science, written in as untechnical language as possible, have served to lessen the gap between the professional scientist and those who must make their livings at something other than science. In many of these expositions, especially those concerned with relativity and the modern quantum theory, names occur with which the general reader cannot be expected to be familiar—Gauss, Cayley, Riemann, and Hermite, for instance. With a knowledge of who these men were, their part in preparing for the explosive growth of physical science since 1900, and an appreciation of their rich personalities, the magnificent achievements of science fall into a truer perspective and take on a new significance.

The great mathematicians have played a part in the evolution of scientific and philosophic thought comparable to that of the philosophers and scientists themselves. To portray the leading features of that part through the lives of master mathematicians, presented against a background of some of the dominant problems of their times, is the purpose of the following chapters. The emphasis is wholly on modern mathematics, that is, on those great and simple guiding ideas of mathematical thought that are still of vital importance in living, creative science and mathematics.

It must not be imagined that the sole function of mathematics—“the handmaiden of the sciences”—is to serve science. Mathematics has also been called “the Queen of the Sciences.” If occasionally the Queen has seemed to beg from the sciences she has been a very proud sort of beggar, neither asking nor accepting favors from any of her more affluent sister sciences. What she gets she pays for. Mathematics has a light and wisdom of its own, above any possible application to science, and it will richly reward any intelligent human being to catch a glimpse of what mathematics means to itself. This is not the old doctrine of art for art’s sake; it is art for humanity’s sake. After all, the whole purpose of science is not technology—God knows we have gadgets enough already; science also explores depths of a universe that will never, by any stretch of the imagination, be visited by human beings or affect our material existence. So we shall attend also to some of the things which the great mathematicians have considered worthy of loving understanding for their intrinsic beauty.

Plato is said to have inscribed “Let no man ignorant of geometry enter here” above the entrance to his Academy. No similar warning need be posted here, but a word of advice may save some over-conscientious reader unnecessary anguish. The gist of the story is in the lives and personalities of the creators of modern mathematics, not in the handful of formulas and diagrams scattered through the text. The basic ideas of modern mathematics, from which the whole vast and intricate complexity has been woven by thousands of workers, are simple, of boundless scope, and well within the understanding of any human being with normal intelligence. Lagrange (whom we shall meet later) believed that a mathematician has not thoroughly understood his own work till he has made it so clear that he can go out and explain it effectively to the first man he meets on the street.

This of course is an ideal and not always attainable. But it may be recalled that only a few years before Lagrange said this the Newtonian “law” of gravitation was an incomprehensible mystery to even highly educated persons. Yesterday the Newtonian “law” was a commonplace which every educated person accepted as simple and true; today Einstein’s relativistic theory of gravitation is where Newton’s “law” was in the early decades of the eighteenth century; tomorrow or the day after Einstein’s theory will seem as “natural” as Newton’s “law” seemed yesterday. With the help of time Lagrange’s ideal is not unattainable.

Another great French mathematician, conscious of his own difficulties no less than his readers’, counselled the conscientious not to linger too long over anything hard but to “Go on, and faith will come to you.” In brief, if occasionally a formula, a diagram, or a paragraph seems too technical, skip it. There is ample in what remains.

Students of mathematics are familiar with the phenomenon of “slow development,” or subconscious assimilation: the first time something new is studied the details seem too numerous and hopelessly confused, and no coherent impression of the whole is left on the mind. Then, on returning after a rest, it is found that everything has fallen into place with its proper emphasis—like the development of a photographic film. The majority of those who attack analytic geometry seriously for the first time experience something of the sort. The calculus on the other hand, with its aims clearly stated from the beginning, is usually grasped quickly. Even professional mathematicians often skim the work of others to gain a broad, comprehensive view of the whole before concentrating on the details of interest to them. Skipping is not a vice, as some of us were told by our puritan teachers, but a virtue of common sense.

As to the amount of mathematical knowledge necessary to understand everything that some will wisely skip, I believe it may be said honestly that a high school course in mathematics is sufficient. Matters far beyond such a course are frequently mentioned, but wherever they are, enough description has been given to enable anyone with high school mathematics to follow. For some of the most important ideas discussed in connection with their originators—groups, space of many dimensions, non-Euclidean geometry, and symbolic logic, for example —less than a high school course is ample for an understanding of the basic concepts. All that is needed is interest and an undistracted head. Assimilation of some of these invigorating ideas of modern mathematical thought will be found as refreshing as a drink of cold water on a hot day and as inspiring as any art.

To facilitate the reading, important definitions have been repeated where necessary, and frequent references to earlier chapters have been included from time to time.

The chapters need not be read consecutively. In fact, those with a speculative or philosophical turn of mind may prefer to read the last chapter first. With a few trivial displacements to fit the social background the chapters follow the chronological order.

It would be impossible to describe all the work of even the least prolific of the men considered, nor would it be profitable in an account for the general reader to attempt to do so. Moreover, much of the work of even the greater mathematicians of the past is now of only historical interest, having been included in more general points of view. Accordingly only some of the conspicuously new things each man did are described, and these have been selected for their originality and importance in modern thought.

Of the topics selected for description we may mention the following (among others) as likely to interest the general reader: the modern doctrine of the infinite (chapters 2, 29); the origin of mathematical probability (chapter 5); the concept and importance of a group (chapter 15); the meanings of invariance (chapter 21); non-Euclidean geometry (chapter 16 and part of 14); the origin of the mathematics of general relativity (last part of chapter 26); properties of the common whole numbers (chapter 4), and their modern generalization (chapter 25); the meaning and usefulness of so-called imaginary numbers—like

(chapters 14, 19); symbolic reasoning (chapter 23). But anyone who wishes to get a glimpse of the power of the mathematical method, especially as applied to science, will be repaid by seeing what the calculus is about (chapters 2, 6).

Modern mathematics began with two great advances, analytic geometry and the calculus. The former took definite shape in 1637, the latter about 1666, although it did not become public property till a decade later. Though the idea behind it all is childishly simple, yet the method of analytic geometry is so powerful that very ordinary boys of seventeen can use it to prove results which would have baffled the greatest of the Greek geometers—Euclid, Archimedes, and Apollonius. The man, Descartes, who finally crystallized this great method had a particularly full and interesting life.

In saying that Descartes was responsible for the creation of analytic geometry we do not mean to imply that the new method sprang fullarmed from his mind alone. Many before him had made significant advances toward the new method, but it remained for Descartes to take the final step and actually to put out the method as a definitely workable engine of geometrical proof, discovery, and invention. But even Descartes must share the honor with Fermat.

Similar remarks apply to most of the other advances of modern mathematics. A new concept may be “in the air” for generations until some one man—occasionally two or three together—sees clearly the essential detail that his predecessors missed, and the new thing comes into being. Relativity, for example, is sometimes said to have been the great invention reserved by time for the genius of Minkowski. The fact is, however, that Minkowski did not create the theory of relativity and that Einstein did. It seems rather meaningless to say that So-and-so might have done this or that if circumstances had been other than they were. Any one of us no doubt could jump over the moon if we and the physical universe were different from what we and it are, but the truth is that we do not make the jump.

In other instances, however, the credit for some great advance is not always justly placed, and the man who first used a new method more powerfully than its inventor sometimes gets more than his due. This seems to be the case, for instance, in the highly important matter of the calculus. Archimedes had the fundamental notion of limiting sums from which the integral calculus springs, and he not only had the notion but showed that he could apply it. Archimedes also used the method of the differential calculus in one of his problems. As we approach Newton and Leibniz in the seventeenth century the history of the calculus becomes extremely involved. The new method was more than merely “in the air” before Newton and Leibniz brought it down to earth; Fermat actually had it. He also invented the method of Cartesian geometry independently of Descartes. In spite of indubitable facts such as these we shall follow tradition and ascribe to each great leader what a majority vote says he should have, even at the risk of giving him a little more than his just due. Priority after all gradually loses its irritating importance as we recede in time from the men to whom it was a hotly contested cause of verbal battles while they and their partisans lived.

* * *

Those who have never known a professional mathematician may be rather surprised on meeting some, for mathematicians as a class are probably less familiar to the general reader than any other group of brain workers. The mathematician is a much rarer character in fiction than his cousin the scientist, and when he does appear in the pages of a novel or on the screen he is only too apt to be a slovenly dreamer totally devoid of common sense—comic relief. What sort of mortal is he in real life? Only by seeing in detail what manner of men some of the great mathematicians were and what kind of lives they lived, can we recognize the ludicrous untruth of the traditional portrait of a mathematician.

Strange as it may seem, not all of the great mathematicians have been professors in colleges or universities. Quite a few were soldiers by profession; others went into mathematics from theology, the law, and medicine, and one of the greatest was as crooked a diplomat as ever lied for the good of his country. A few have had no profession at all. Stranger yet, not all professors of mathematics have been mathematicians. But this should not surprise us when we think of the gulf between the average professor of poetry drawing a comfortable salary and the poet starving to death in his garret.

The lives that follow will at least suggest that a mathematician can be as human as anybody else—sometimes distressingly more so. In ordinary social contacts the majority have been normal. There have been eccentrics in mathematics, of course; but the percentage is no higher than in commerce or the professions. As a group the great mathematicians have been men of all-round ability, vigorous, alert, keenly interested in many things outside of mathematics and, in a fight, men with their full share of backbone. As a rule mathematicians have been bad customers to persecute; they have usually been capable of returning what they received with compound interest. For the rest they were geniuses of tremendous accomplishment marked off from the majority of their gifted fellowmen only by an irresistible impulse to do mathematics. On occasion mathematicians have been (and some still are in France) extremely able administrators.

In their politics the great mathematicians have ranged over the whole spectrum from reactionary conservatism to radical liberalism. It is probably correct to say that as a class they have tended slightly to the left in their political opinions. Their religious beliefs have included everything from the narrowest orthodoxy—sometimes shading into the blackest bigotry—to complete skepticism. A few were dogmatic and positive in their assertions concerning things about which they knew nothing, but most have tended to echo the great Lagrange’s “I do not know.”

Another characteristic calls for mention here, as several writers and artists (some from Hollywood) have asked that it be treated—the sex life of great mathematicians. In particular these inquirers wish to know how many of the great mathematicians have been perverts—a somewhat indelicate question, possibly, but legitimate enough to merit a serious answer in these times of preoccupation with such topics. None. Some lived celibate lives, usually on account of economic disabilities, but the majority were happily married and brought up their children in a civilized, intelligent manner. The children, it may be noted in passing, were often gifted far above the average. A few of the great mathematicians of bygone centuries kept mistresses when such was the fashionable custom of their times. The only mathematician discussed here whose life might offer something of interest to a Freudian is Pascal.

Returning for a moment to the movie ideal of a mathematician, we note that sloppy clothes have not been the invariable attire of great mathematicians. All through the long history of mathematics about which we have fairly detailed knowledge, mathematicians have paid the same amount of attention to their personal appearance as any other equally numerous group of men. Some have been fops, others slovens; the majority, decently inconspicuous. If today some earnest individual affecting spectacular clothes, long hair, a black sombrero, or any other mark of exhibitionism, assures you that he is a mathematician, you may safely wager that he is a psychologist turned numerologist.

The psychological peculiarities of great mathematicians is another topic in which there is considerable interest. Poincaré will tell us something about the psychology of mathematical creation in a later chapter. But on the general question not much can be said till psychologists call a truce and agree among themselves as to what is what. On the whole the great mathematicians have lived richer, more virile lives than those that fall to the lot of the ordinary hard-working mortal. Nor has this richness been wholly on the side of intellectual adventuresomeness. Several of the greater mathematicians have had more than their share of physical danger and excitement, and some of them have been implacable haters—or, what is ultimately the same, expert controversialists. Many have known the lust of battle in their prime, reprehensibly enough, no doubt, but still humanly enough, and in knowing it they have experienced something no jellyfish has ever felt: “Damn braces, Bless relaxes,” as that devout Christian William Blake put it in his Proverbs of Hell.

This brings us to what at first sight (from the conduct of several of the men considered here) may seem like a significant trait of mathematicians—their hair-trigger quarrelsomeness. Following the lives of several of these men we get the impression that a great mathematician is more likely than not to think others are stealing his work, or disparaging it, or not doing him sufficient honor, and to start a row to recover imaginary rights. Men who should have been above such brawls seem to have gone out of their way to court battl...