CHAPTER VI
FRIENDSHIP WITH STOKES AND JOULE. EARLY WORK AT GLASGOW
During his residence at Cambridge Thomson gained the friendship of George Gabriel Stokes, who had graduated as Senior Wrangler and First Smith's Prizeman in 1841. They discussed mathematical questions together and contributed articles on various topics to the Cambridge Mathematical Journal. In 1846 "Cambridge and Dublin" was substituted for "Cambridge" in the title of the Journal, and a new series was begun under the editorship of Thomson. A feature of the earlier volumes of the new issue was a series of Notes on Hydrodynamics written by agreement between Thomson and Stokes, and printed in vols. ii, iii, and v. The first, second, and fifth of the series were written by Thomson, the others by Stokes. The matter of these Notes was not altogether novel; but many points were put in a new and more truly physical light, and the series was no doubt of much service to students, for whose use the articles were intended. Some account of these Notes will be given in a later chapter on Thomson's hydrodynamical papers.
For the mathematical power and sure physical instinct of Stokes Thomson had always the greatest admiration. When asked on one occasion who was the most outstanding worker in physical science on the continent, he replied, "I do not know, but whoever he is, I am certain that Stokes is a match for him." In a report of an address which he delivered in June 1897, at the celebration of the Jubilee of Sir George Stokes as Lucasian Professor of Mathematics, Lord Kelvin referred to their early intercourse at Cambridge in terms which were reported as follows: "When he reflected on his own early progress, he was led to recall the great kindness shown to himself, and the great value which his intercourse with Sir George Stokes had been to him through life. Whenever a mathematical difficulty occurred he used to say to himself, 'Ask Stokes what he thinks of it.' He got an answer if answer was possible; he was told, at all events, if it was unanswerable. He felt that in his undergraduate days, and he felt it more now."
After the death of Stokes in February 1902, Lord Kelvin again referred, in an enthusiastic tribute in Nature for February 12, to these early discussions. "Stokes's scientific work and scientific thought is but partially represented by his published writings. He gave generously and freely of his treasures to all who were fortunate enough to have an opportunity of receiving from him. His teaching me the principles of solar and stellar chemistry when we were walking about among the colleges sometime prior to 1852 (when I vacated my Peterhouse Fellowship to be no more in Cambridge for many years) is but one example."
The interchange of ideas between Stokes and Thomson which began in those early days went on constantly and seems to have been stimulating to both. The two men were in a sense complementary in nature and temperament. Both had great power and great insight, but while Stokes was uniformly calm, reflective, and judicial, Thomson's enthusiasm was more outspokenly fervid, and he was apt to be at times vehement and impetuous in his eagerness to push on an investigation; and though, as became his nationality, he was cautious in committing himself to conclusions, he exercised perhaps less reserve in placing his results before the public of science.
A characteristic instance of Thomson's vehement pursuit of experimental results may be given here, although the incidents occurred at a much later date in his career than that with which we are at present concerned. In 1880 the invention of the Faure Secondary Battery attracted his attention. M. Faure brought from Paris some cells made up and ready charged, and showed in the Physical Laboratory at Glasgow the very powerful currents which, in consequence of their very low internal resistance, they were capable of producing in a thick piece of copper wire. The cells were of the original form, constructed by coating strips of sheet lead on both sides with a paste of minium moistened with dilute sulphuric acid, swathing them in woollen cloth sewed round them, and then rolling two together to form the pair of plates for one cell.
A supply of sheet lead, minium, and woollen cloth was at once obtained, and the whole laboratory corps of students and staff was set to work to manufacture secondary batteries. A small Siemens-Halske dynamo was telegraphed for to charge the cells, and the ventilating steam-engine of the University was requisitioned to drive the dynamo during the night. Thus the University stokers and engineer were put on double shifts; the cells were charged during the night and the charging current and battery-potential measured at intervals.
Then the cells were run down during the day, and their output measured in the same way. Just as this began, Thomson was laid up with an ailment which confined him to bed for a couple of weeks or so; but this led to no cessation of the laboratory activity. On the contrary, the laboratory corps was divided into two squads, one for the night, the other for the day, and the work of charging and discharging, and of measurement of expenditure and return of energy went on without intermission. The results obtained during the day were taken to Thomson's bedside in the evening, and early in the morning he was ready to review those which had been obtained during the night, and to suggest further questions to be answered without delay. This mode of working could not go on indefinitely, but it continued until his assistants (some of whom had to take both shifts!), to say nothing of the stokers and students, were fairly well exhausted.
On other occasions, when he was from home, he found the post too slow to convey his directions to his laboratory workers, and telegraphed from day to day questions and instructions regarding the work on hand. Thus one important result (anticipated, however, by Villari) of the series of researches on the effects of stress on magnetisation which forms Part VII of his Electrodynamic Qualities of Metals—the fact that up to a certain magnetising force the effect of pull, applied to a wire of soft iron, is to increase the magnetisation produced, and for higher magnetising forces to diminish it—was telegraphed to him on the night on which the paper was read to the Royal Society.
It will thus be seen that Thomson, whether confined to his room or on holiday, kept his mind fixed upon his scientific or practical work, and was almost impatient for its progress. Stokes worked mainly by himself; but even if he had had a corps of workers and assistants, it is improbable that such disturbances of hours of attendance and laboratory and workshop routine would have occurred, as were not infrequent at Glasgow when Thomson's work was, in the 'sixties and 'seventies, at its intensest.
Stokes and Thomson were in succession presidents of the Royal Society, Stokes from 1885 to 1890, and Thomson (from 1892 as Lord Kelvin) from 1890 to 1895. This is the highest distinction which any scientific man in this country can achieve, and it is very remarkable that there should have been in recent times two presidents in succession whose modes of thought and mathematical power are so directly comparable with those of the great founder of modern natural philosophy. Stokes had the additional distinction of being the lineal successor of Newton as Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge. But it was reserved for Thomson to do much by the publication of Thomson and Tait's Natural Philosophy to bring back the current of teaching and thought in dynamical science to the ideas of the Principia, and to show how completely the fundamental laws, as laid down in that great classic, avail for the inclusion of the modern theory of energy, in all its transformations, within the category of dynamical action between material systems.
An exceedingly eminent politician, now deceased, said some years ago that the present age was singularly deficient in minds of the first quality. So far as scientific genius is concerned, the dictum was singularly false: we have here a striking proof of the contrary. But then few politicians know anything of science; indeed some of those who guide, or aspire to guide, the destinies of the most scientific and industrial empire the world has ever seen are almost boastful of their ignorance. There are, of course, honourable exceptions.
It is convenient to refer here to the share which Stokes and Thomson took in the physical explanation of the dark lines of the solar spectrum, and to their prediction of the possibility of determining the constitution of the stars and of terrestrial substances by what is now known as spectrum analysis. Thomson used to give the physical theory of these lines in his lectures, and say that he obtained the idea from Stokes in a conversation which they had in the garden of Pembroke at Cambridge, "some time prior to 1852" (see the quotation from his Nature article quoted above, p. [80], and the Baltimore Lectures, p. [101]). This is confirmed by a student's note-book, of date 1854, which is now in the Natural Philosophy Department. The statements therein recorded are perfectly definite and clear, and show that at that early date the whole affair of spectrum analysis was in his hands, and only required confirmation by experiments on the reversal of the lines of terrestrial substances by an atmosphere of the substance which produced the lines, and a comparison of the positions of the bright lines of terrestrial substances with those of the dark lines of the solar spectrum. Why Thomson did not carry out all these experiments it would be difficult to say. Some of them he did make, for Professor John Ferguson, who was a student of Natural Philosophy in 1859-60, has recently told how he witnessed Thomson make the experiment of reversing the lines of sodium by passing the light from the salted flame of a spirit lamp through vapour of sodium produced by heating the metal in an iron spoon. A few days later, says Professor Ferguson, Thomson read a letter to his class announcing Bunsen and Kirchhoff's discovery.
A letter of Stokes to Sir John Lubbock, printed in the Scientific Correspondence of Sir George Gabriel Stokes, states his recollection of the matter, and gives Thomson the credit of having inferred the method of spectrum analysis, a method to which Stokes himself makes no claim. He says, "I know, I think, what Sir William Thomson was alluding to. I knew well, what was generally known, and is mentioned by Herschel in his treatise on Light, that the bright D seen in flames is specially produced when a salt of soda is introduced. I connected it in my own mind with the presence of sodium, and I suppose others did so too. The coincidence in position of the bright and dark D is too striking to allow us to regard it as fortuitous. In conversation with Thomson I explained the connection of the dark and bright line by the analogy of a set of piano strings tuned to the same note, which, if struck, would give out that note, and also would be ready to sound it, to take it up, in fact, if it were sounded in air. This would imply absorption of the aërial vibrations, as otherwise there would be a creation of energy. Accordingly I accounted for the presence of the dark D in the solar spectrum by supposing that there was sodium in the atmosphere, capable of absorbing light of that particular refrangibility. He asked me if there were any other instances of such coincidences of bright and dark lines, and I said I thought there was one mentioned by Brewster. He was much struck with this, and jumped to the conclusion that to find out what substances were in the stars we must compare the positions of the dark lines seen in their spectra with the spectra of metals, etc....
"I should have said that I thought Thomson was going too fast ahead, for my notion at the time was that, though a few of the dark lines might be traced to elementary substances, sodium for one, probably potassium for another, yet the great bulk of them were probably due to compound vapours, which, like peroxide of nitrogen and some other known compound gases, have the character of selective absorption."
It will be remembered that the experimental establishment of the method of spectrum analysis was published towards the end of 1859 by Bunsen and Kirchhoff, to whom, therefore, the full credit of discoverers must be given.
Lord Kelvin in the later years of his life used to tell the story of his first meeting with Joule at Oxford, and of their second meeting a fortnight later in Switzerland. He did so also in his address delivered on the occasion of the unveiling of a statue of Joule, in Manchester Town Hall, on December 7, 1893, and we quote the narrative on account of its scientific and personal interest. "I can never forget the British Association at Oxford in 1847, when in one of the sections I heard a paper read by a very unassuming young man, who betrayed no consciousness in his manner that he had a great idea to unfold. I was tremendously struck with the paper. I at first thought it could not be true, because it was different from Carnot's theory, and immediately after the reading of the paper I had a few words with the author, James Joule, which was the beginning of our forty years' acquaintance and friendship. On the evening of the same day, that very valuable institution of the British Association, its conversazione, gave us opportunity for a good hour's talk and discussion over all that either of us knew of thermodynamics. I gained ideas which had never entered my mind before, and I thought I, too, suggested something worthy of Joule's consideration when I told him of Carnot's theory. Then and there in the Radcliffe Library, Oxford, we parted, both of us, I am sure, feeling that we had much more to say to one another and much matter for reflection in what we had talked over that evening. But ... a fortnight later, when walking down the valley of Chamounix, I saw in the distance a young man walking up the road towards me, and carrying in his hand something which looked like a stick, but which he was using neither as an alpenstock nor as a walking-stick. It was Joule with a long thermometer in his hand, which he would not trust by itself in the char-à-banc, coming slowly up the hill behind him, lest it should get broken. But there, comfortably and safely seated in the char-à-banc, was his bride—the sympathetic companion and sharer in his work of after years. He had not told me in Section A, or in the Radcliffe Library, that he was going to be married in three days, but now in the valley of Chamounix he introduced me to his young wife. We appointed to meet again a fortnight later at Martigny to make experiments on the heat of a waterfall (Sallanches) with that thermometer: and afterwards we met again and again, and from that time, indeed, remained close friends till the end of Joule's life. I had the great pleasure and satisfaction for many years, beginning just forty years ago, of making experiments along with Joule which led to some important results in respect to the theory of thermodynamics. This is one of the most valuable recollections of my life, and is indeed as valuable a recollection as I can conceive in the possession of any man interested in science."
At the beginning of his course of lectures each session, Professor Thomson read, or rather attempted to read, an introductory address on the scope and methods of physical science, which he had prepared for his first session in 1846. It set forth the fact that in science there were two stages of progress—a natural history stage and a natural philosophy stage. In the first the discoverer or teacher is occupied with the collection of facts, and their arrangement in classes according to their nature; in the second he is concerned with the relations of facts already discovered and classified, and endeavours to bring them within the scope of general principles or causes. Once the philosophical stage is reached, its methods and results are connected and enlarged by continued research after facts, controlled and directed by the conclusions of general theory. Thus the method is at first purely inductive, but becomes in the second stage both inductive and deductive; the general theory predicts by its deductions, and the verification of these by experiment and observation give a validity to the theory which no mere induction could afford. These stages of scientific investigation are well illustrated by the laws of Kepler arrived at by mere comparison of the motions of the planets, and the deduction of these laws, with the remarkable correction of the third law, given by the theory of universal gravitation. The prediction of the existence and place of the planet Neptune from the perturbations of Uranus is an excellent example of the predictive quality of a true philosophical theory.
The lecture then proceeded to state the province of dynamics, to define its different parts, and to insist on the importance of kinematics, which was described as a purely geometrical subject, the geometry of motion, considerations from which entered into every dynamical problem. This distinction between dynamical and kinematical considerations—between those in which force is concerned and those into which enter only the idea of displacement in space and in time—is emphasised in Thomson and Tait's Natural Philosophy, which commences with a long chapter devoted entirely to kinematics.
Whether Professor Thomson read the whole of the Introductory Lecture on the first occasion is uncertain—Clerk Maxwell is said to have asserted that it was closely adhered to, for that one time only, and finished in much less than the hour allotted to it. In later years he had never read more than a couple of pages when some new illustration, or new fact of science, which bore on his subject, led him to digress from the manuscript, which was hardly ever returned to, and after a few minutes was mechanically laid aside and forgotten. Once on beginning the session he humorously informed the assembled class that he did not think he had ever succeeded in reading the lecture through before, and added that he had determined that they should hear the whole of it! But again occurred the inevitable digression, in the professor's absorption in the new topic the promise was forgotten, and the written lecture fared as before! These digressions were exceedingly interesting to the best students: whether they compensated for the want of a carefully prepared presentation of the elements of the subject, suited to the wants of the mass of the members of the class, is a matter which need not here be discussed. All through his elementary lectures—introductory or not—new ideas and new problems continually presented themselves. An eminent physicist once remarked that Thomson was perhaps the only living man who made discoveries while lecturing. That was hardly true; in the glow of action and stress of expression the mind of every intense thinker often sees new relations, and finds new points of view, which amount to discoveries. But fecundity of mind has, of course, its disadvantages: the unexpected cannot happen without causing distractions to all concerned. A mind which can see a theory of the physical universe in a smoke-ring is likely, unless kept under extraordinary and hampering restraint, to be tempted to digress from what is strictly the subject in hand, to the world of matters which that subject suggests. Professor Thomson was, it must be admitted, too discursive for the ordinary student, and perhaps did not study the art of boiling down physical theories to the form most easily digestible. His eagerness of mind and width of mental outlook gave his lectures a special value to the advanced student, so that there was a compensating advantage.
The teacher of natural philosophy is really placed in a position of extraordinary difficulty. The fabric of nature is woven without seam, and to take it to pieces is in a manner to destroy it. It must, after examination in detail, be reconstructed and considered as a whole, or its meaning escapes us. And here lies the difficulty: every bit of matter stands in relation to everything else, and both sides of every relation must be considered. In other words, in the explanation of any one phenomenon the explanation of all others is more or less involved. This does not mean that investigation or exposition is impossible, or that we cannot proceed step by step; but it shows the foolishness of that criticism of science and scientific method which asks for complete or ultimate knowledge, and of the popular demand for a simple form of words to express what is in reality infinitely complex.
In the earlier years of his professorship Professor Thomson taught his class entirely himself, and gathered round him, as he has told us in the Bangor address, an enthusiastic band of workers who aided him in the researches which he began on the electrodynamic qualities of metals, the elastic properties of substances, the thermal and electrical conductivities of metals, and at a later date in the electric and magnetic work which he undertook as a member of the British Association Committee on Electrical Standards. The class met, as has been stated, twice a day, first for lectures, then for exercises and oral examination. The changes which took place later in the curriculum, and especially the introduction of honours classes in the different subjects, rendered it difficult, if not impossible, for two hours' attendance to be given daily on all subjects, and students were at first excused attendance at the second hour, and finally such attendance became practically optional. But so long as the old traditional curriculum in Arts—of Humanity, Greek, Logic, Mathematics, Moral Philosophy and Natural Philosophy—endured, a large number of students found it profitable to attend at both hours, and it was possible to give a large amount of excellent tutorial instruction by the working of examples and oral examination.
Thomson always held that his commission included the subject of physical astronomy, and though his lectures on that subject were, as a rule, confined to a statement of Kepler's laws and Newton's deductions from them, he took care that the written and oral examinations included astronomical questions, for which the students were enjoined to prepare by reading Herschel's Outlines, or some similar text-book. This injunction not infrequently was disregarded, and discomfiture of the student followed as a matter of course, if he was called on to answer. Nor were the questions always easy to prepare for by reading. A man might have a fair knowledge of elementary astronomy, and be unable to answer offhand such a question as, "Why is the ecliptic called the ecliptic?" or to say, when the lectures on Kepler had been omitted, short and tersely just what was Newton's deduction from the third law of the planetary motions.
Home exercises were not prescribed as part of the regular work except from time to time in the "Higher Mathematical Class" which for thirty years or more of Thomson's tenure of office was held in the department. But the whole ordinary class met every Monday morning and spent the usual lecture hour in answering a paper of dynamical and physical questions. As many as ten, and sometimes eleven, questions were set in these papers, some of them fairly difficult and involving novel ideas, and by this weekly paper of problems the best students, a dozen or more perhaps, were helped to acquire a faculty of prompt and brief expression. It was not uncommon for a good man to score 80 or 90 or even 100 per cent. in the paper, no small feat to accomplish in a single hour. But to a considerable majority of the class, it is doubtful whether the weekly examination was of much advantage: they attempted one or two of the more descriptive questions perhaps, but a good many did next to nothing. The examinations came every week, and so the preparation for one after another was neglected, and as much procrastination of work ensued as there would have been if only four or five papers a session had been prescribed. Then the work of looking over so many papers was a heavy task to the professor's assistant, a task which became impossible when, for a few years in the early 'eighties, the students in the ordinary class numbered about 250.
The subject of natural philosophy had become so extensive in 1846 that Professor J. P. Nichol called attention to the necessity for special arrangements for its adequate teaching. What would he say if he could survey its dimensions at the present time! To give even a brief outline of the principal topics in dynamics, heat, acoustics, light, magnetism, and electricity is more than can be accomplished in any course of university lectures; and the only way to teach well and economically the large numbers of students[16] who now throng the physics classes is to give each week, say, three lectures as well considered and arranged as possible, without any interruption from oral examination, and assemble the students in smaller classes two or three times a week for exercises and oral examination.
Thomson stated his views as to examinations and lectures in the Bangor address. "The object of a university is teaching, not testing, ... in respect to the teaching of a university the object of examination is to promote the teaching. The examination should be, in the first place, daily. No professor should meet his class without talking to them. He should talk to them and they to him. The French call a lecture a conférence, and I admire that idea. Every lecture should be a conference of teachers and students. It is the true ideal of a professorial lecture. I have found that many students are afflicted when they come up to college with the disease called 'aphasia.' They will not answer when questioned, even when the very words of the answer are put in their mouths, or when the answer is simply 'yes' or 'no.' That disease wears off in a few weeks, but the great cure for it is in repeated and careful and very free interchange of question and answer between teacher and student.... Written examinations are very important, as training the student to express with clearness and accuracy the knowledge he has gained, but they should be once a week to be beneficial."
The great difficulty now, when both classes and subject have grown enormously, is to have free conversation between professor and student, and yet give an adequate account of the subject. To examine orally in a thorough way two students in each class-hour is about as much as can be done if there is to be any systematic exposition by lecture at all; and thus the conference between teacher and individual student can occur only twice a year at most. Nevertheless Lord Kelvin was undoubtedly right: oral examination and the training of individual students in the art of clear and ready expression are very desirable. The real difficulties of the subject are those which occur to the best students, and a discussion of them in the presence of others is good for all. This is difficult nowadays, for large classes cannot afford to wait while two or three backward students grope after answers to questions—which in many cases must be on points which are sufficiently plain to the majority—to say nothing of the temptation to disorder which the display of personal peculiarities or oddities of expression generally affords to an assembly of students. But time will be economised and many advantages added, if large classes are split up into sections for tutorial work, to supplement the careful presentation of the subject made in the systematic lectures delivered to the whole class in each case. The introduction of a tutorial system will, however, do far more harm than good, unless the method of instruction is such as to foster the self-reliance of the student, who must not be, so to speak, spoon-fed: such a method, and the advantages of the weekly examination on paper may be secured, by setting the tutorial class to work out on the spot exercises prescribed by the lecturer. But the danger, which is a very real one, can only be fully avoided by the precautions of a skilful teacher, who in those small classes will draw out and direct the ideas of his students, rather than impart knowledge directly.
After a few years Thomson found it necessary to appoint an assistant, and Mr. Donald McFarlane, who had distinguished himself in the Mathematics and Natural Philosophy classes, was chosen. Mr. McFarlane was originally a block-printer, and seems to have been an apprentice at Alexandria in the Vale of Leven, at the time of the passing of the first Reform Bill. After some time spent in the cotton industry of the district, he became a teacher in a village school in the Vale of Leven, and afterwards entered the University as a student. He discharged his duties in the most faithful and self-abnegating manner until his retirement in 1880, when he had become advanced in years. He had charge of the instruments of the department, got ready the lecture illustrations and attended during lecture to assist in the experiments and supply numerical data when required, prepared the weekly class examination paper and read the answers handed in, and assisted in the original investigations which the professor was always enthusiastically pursuing. A kind of universal physical genius was McFarlane; an expert calculator and an exact and careful experimentalist. Many a long and involved arithmetical research he carried out, much apparatus he made in a homely way, and much he repaired and adjusted. Then, always when the professor was out of the way and calm had descended on the apparatus-room, if not on the laboratory, McFarlane sat down to reduce his pile of examination papers, lest Monday should arrive with a new deluge of crude answers and queer mistakes, ere the former had disappeared. On Friday afternoons at 3 o'clock he gave solutions of the previous Monday's questions to any members of the class who cared to attend; and his clear and deliberate explanations were much appreciated. An unfailing tribute was rendered to him every year by the students, and often took the form of a valuable gift for which one and all had subscribed. A recluse he was in his way, hardly anybody knew where he lived—the professor certainly did not—and a man of the highest ability and of the most absolute unselfishness. An hour in the evening with one or two special friends, and the study of German, were the only recreations of McFarlane's solitary life. He was full of humour, and told with keen enjoyment stories of the University worthies of a bygone age. For thirty years he worked on for a meagre salary, for during the earlier part of that time no provision for assistants was made in the Government grant to the Scottish Universities. By an ordinance issued in 1861 by the University Commissioners, appointed under the Act of 1858, a grant of £100 a year was made from the Consolidated Fund for an assistant in each of the departments of Humanity, Greek, Mathematics, and Natural Philosophy, and for two in the department of Chemistry; and McFarlane's position was somewhat improved. His veneration for Thomson was such as few students or assistants have had for a master: his devotion resembled that of the old famulus rather than the much more measured respect paid by modern assistants to their chiefs.
After his retirement McFarlane lived on in Glasgow, and amused himself reading out-of-the-way Latin literature and with the calculation of eclipses! He finally returned to Alexandria, where he died in February 1897. "Old McFarlane" will be held in affectionate remembrance so long as students of the Natural Philosophy Class in the 'fifties and 'sixties and 'seventies, now, alas! a fast vanishing band, survive.
Soon after taking his degree of B.A. at Cambridge in 1845, Thomson had been elected a Fellow of St. Peter's College. In 1852 he vacated his Fellowship on his marriage to Miss Margaret Crum, daughter of Mr. Walter Crum of Thornliebank, near Glasgow, but was re-elected in 1871, and remained thereafter a Fellow of Peterhouse throughout his life.