LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER IV. CAMBRIDGE.

       Table of Contents

      Universal Language—Purchase Lacroix’s Quarto Work on the Integral Calculus—Disappointment on getting no explanation of my Math­e­mat­i­cal Difficulties—Origin of the Analytical Society—The Ghost Club—Chess—Sixpenny Whist and Guinea Whist—Boating—Chemistry—Elected Lucasian Professor of Mathematics in 1828.

      MY father, with a view of acquiring some information which might be of use to me at Cambridge, had consulted a tutor of one of the colleges, who was passing his long vacation at the neighbouring watering-place, Teignmouth. He dined with us frequently. The advice of the Rev. Doctor was quite sound, but very limited. It might be summed up in one short sentence: “Advise your son not to purchase his wine in Cambridge.”

      Previously to my entrance at Trinity College, Cambridge, I resided for a time at Totnes, under the guidance of an Oxford tutor, who undertook to superintend my classical studies only.

      During my residence at this place I accidentally heard, for the first time, of an idea of forming a universal language. I was much fascinated by it, and, soon after, proceeded to write a kind of grammar, and then to devise a dictionary. Some trace of the former, I think, I still possess: but I was stopped in my idea of making a universal dictionary by the apparent impossibility of arranging signs in any consecutive {26} order, so as to find, as in a dictionary, the meaning of each when wanted. It was only after I had been some time at Cambridge that I became acquainted with the work of “Bishop Wilkins on Universal Language.”

      Being passionately fond of algebra, I had instructed myself by means of Ward’s “Young Mathematician’s Guide,” which had casually fallen into my hands at school. I now employed all my leisure in studying such math­e­mat­i­cal works as accident brought to my knowledge. Amongst these were Humphrey Ditton’s “Fluxions,” of which I could make nothing; Madame Agnesi’s “Analytical Institutions,” from which I acquired some knowledge; Woodhouse’s “Principles of Analytical Calculation,” from which I learned the notation of Leibnitz; and Lagrange’s “Théorie des Fonctions.” I possessed also the Fluxions of Maclaurin and of Simpson.

      Thus it happened that when I went to Cambridge I could work out such questions as the very moderate amount of mathematics which I then possessed admitted, with equal facility, in the dots of Newton, the d’s of Leibnitz, or the dashes of Lagrange. I had, however, met with many difficulties, and looked forward with intense delight to the certainty of having them all removed on my arrival at Cambridge. I had in my imagination formed a plan for the institution amongst my future friends of a chess club, and also of another club for the discussion of math­e­mat­i­cal subjects.

      〈PURCHASE THE WORK OF LACROIX.〉

      In 1811, during the war, it was very difficult to procure foreign books. I had heard of the great work of Lacroix, on the “Differential and Integral Calculus,” which I longed to possess, and being misinformed that its price was two guineas, I resolved to purchase it in London on my passage to Cambridge. As soon as I arrived I went to the French {27} bookseller, Dulau, and to my great surprise found that the price of the book was seven guineas. After much thought I made the costly purchase, went on immediately to Cambridge, saw my tutor, Hudson, got lodgings, and then spent the greater part of the night in turning over the pages of my newly-acquired purchase. After a few days, I went to my public tutor Hudson, to ask the explanation of one of my math­e­mat­i­cal difficulties. He listened to my question, said it would not be asked in the Senate House, and was of no sort of consequence, and advised me to get up the earlier subjects of the university studies.

      〈DIFFICULTIES NOT ANSWERED.〉

      After some little while I went to ask the explanation of another difficulty from one of the lecturers. He treated the question just in the same way. I made a third effort to be enlightened about what was really a doubtful question, and felt satisfied that the person I addressed knew nothing of the matter, although he took some pains to disguise his ignorance.

      I thus acquired a distaste for the routine of the studies of the place, and devoured the papers of Euler and other mathematicians, scattered through innumerable volumes of the academies of Petersburgh, Berlin, and Paris, which the libraries I had recourse to contained.

      Under these circumstances it was not surprising that I should perceive and be penetrated with the superior power of the notation of Leibnitz.

      At an early period, probably at the commencement of the second year of my residence at Cambridge, a friend of mine, Michael Slegg, of Trinity, was taking wine with me, discussing math­e­mat­i­cal subjects, to which he also was enthusiastically attached. Hearing the chapel bell ring, he took leave of me, promising to return for a cup of coffee. {28}

      〈RESULT OF BIBLE SOCIETY.〉

      At this period Cambridge was agitated by a fierce controversy. Societies had been formed for printing and circulating the Bible. One party proposed to circulate it with notes, in order to make it intelligible; whilst the other scornfully rejected all explanations of the word of God as profane attempts to mend that which was perfect.

      The walls of the town were placarded with broadsides, and posters were sent from house to house. One of the latter form of advertisement was lying upon my table when Slegg left me. Taking up the paper, and looking through it, I thought it, from its exaggerated tone, a good subject for a parody.

      I then drew up the sketch of a society to be instituted for translating the small work of Lacroix on the Differential and Integral Lacroix. It proposed that we should have periodical meetings for the propagation of d’s; and consigned to perdition all who supported the heresy of dots. It maintained that the work of Lacroix was so perfect that any comment was unnecessary.

On Slegg’s return from chapel I put the parody into his hands. My friend enjoyed the joke heartily, and at parting asked my permission to show the parody to a math­e­mat­i­cal friend of his, Mr. Bromhead.4

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