Makers of Electricity

by Brother Potamian; James J. Walsh

We have here an instructive instance of the failure of an examination to place rightly the most gifted man; that of Sylvester, in 1837, and Clerk Maxwell, in 1854, both of whom were second wranglers, are equally so. Examinations, however, seldom fail in justly rating candidates when originality is not a necessary qualification, but only a sound knowledge and liberal interpretation of the subjects laid down in the syllabus; a good memory and rapidity of writing will do the rest.

Thomson committed the fatal mistake in the tripos examination of devoting too much time to a particular question in which he was deeply interested. It was a curious coincidence that the solution which Parkinson sent in to the same question was almost identical with that of his rival for mathematical honors. On being questioned about the matter by the Moderators, Parkinson said that he had read the solution some time before in the Cambridge Mathematical Journal; Thomson's explanation was that the solution given in the Journal was his! As he had not memorized the details, he was obliged of course to work the problem out de novo.

Parkinson in later years wrote a treatise on elementary mechanics that has long since made way for others; Thomson, on the other hand, published in collaboration with Tait a Treatise on Natural Philosophy for advanced students, which became at once the accepted standard. Throughout this treatise, the view is emphasized that physics deals with realities more than with theories, with mutual relations more than with their mathematical expression. Helmholtz thought so highly of this work that he translated it into German, saying in his preface: "William Thomson, one of the most penetrating and ingenious thinkers, deserves the thanks of the scientific world, in that he takes us into the workshop of his thoughts and unravels the guiding threads which have helped him to master and set in order the most resisting and confused material." And again: "Following the example given by Faraday, he avoids as far as possible hypotheses about unknown subjects, and endeavors to express by his mathematical treatment of problems simply the law of observable phenomena."

We are not to think of Thomson, the undergraduate, as of one who gave himself up, mind and body, to his favorite studies; he knew how to combine, in some measure, the dulce with the utile, for he was fond of music, and so proficient in the art that he was elected President of the Musical Society. He also took a practical interest in aquatic sports, and on the Cam he could ply his sculls with the best of the men. Indeed, he was fond of the water all through life, his Lalla Rookh being well known on the Clyde and in the Solent. Expert in the navigation of his yacht, he liked to be out on the deep, caressed by wind and buffeted by wave, on which occasions he usually studied, pencil in hand, problems connected with navigation and hydrodynamics.

Thomson was never without his note-book. Even in his journeys to London, when he usually took the night train to save time, his mind was active, and the green-book was in frequent requisition to receive thoughts that occurred relative to problems that engaged his attention. Unlike many mortals, he was able to sleep soundly on those night trips, although in the early days he had none of the luxuries of traveling which we consider indispensable to our comfort.

Helmholtz records that, being on the Lalla Rookh on one occasion, Thomson "carried the freedom of intercourse so far that he always had a mathematical note-book with him; and as soon as an idea occurred to him, he began to reckon right in the midst of company." This reminds us of the answer which Newton gave to a friend who asked him how he accomplished so much. "By constantly thinking of it," was the brief reply. Concentration of the faculties is necessary for all good work; a distracted mind never achieved anything of value in philosophy, in science, in religious worship. Concentration is like a convex lens, which brings rays to a focus; whereas distraction is like a concave lens, which breaks them up into a number of divergent and scattered elements.

On leaving Cambridge in 1845, Thomson proceeded to London, and was warmly received by Faraday, then of world-wide reputation. He next went to Paris, where, in the laboratory of Regnault, he devoted himself to original research, under the direction of that great and accurate physicist who was then carrying out his classic work on the thermal constants of bodies.

The year 1846 marks an epoch in Thomson's life; for, in that year, he was chosen to succeed Nichol, his friend and master, in the chair of natural philosophy in the University of Glasgow. Though only in his twenty-second year, he chose for the subject of his inaugural address the age of the earth, a subject which continued to have a life-long interest for him because of its very fascination, and perhaps, too, because of the opposition which his views aroused on the part of biologists and geologists. These demanded untold æons for the original fire-mist to cool down and form a spinning globe fit to be the abode of organic life, whereas Thomson endeavored to show the weakness of the arguments which they advanced to uphold their claim for unlimited time. Basing his estimate on the rate of increase of temperature as we go below the earth's surface, he concluded that the earth required from 100 to 200 million years, and probably less, to cool from its molten state to its present condition.

Impressed by the value of the experimental work which he did under Regnault in Paris, Prof. Thomson gave himself no rest until he secured a place in which the demonstrations of the lecture-room could be supplemented by qualitative and quantitative work in the laboratory. This was the first "physical laboratory" open to students in Great Britain, a fact that makes the year 1846 a memorable one in the history of university development. Two apartments were allotted him for experimental purposes, viz., an abandoned wine-cellar and a disused examination-room, to which, as time went on, were added a corridor, some spare attics, and even the university tower itself, so great was the power of annexation possessed by the young Professor. In those dark and cheerless rooms, a few old instruments were installed, after which students were invited and work begun. A band of men, whose ardor was enkindled by the glowing enthusiasm of the presiding genius, gathered around him, and helped him to carry out investigations on the properties of metals, on moduli of elasticity, elastic fatigue and atmospheric electricity. Among this band of earnest students it will suffice to mention the names of the late Prof. Ayrton, an eminent electrician; Prof. John Perry, known for his Homeric battles in favor of reform in the teaching of mathematics; Sir William Ramsay, the discoverer of the "newer" gases of the atmosphere; and Prof. Andrew Gray, who succeeded his master in the University of Glasgow.

Writing of his laboratory experiences, Prof. Ramsay says: "I remember that my first exercise, which occupied over a week, was to take the kinks out of a bundle of copper wire. Having achieved this with some success, I was placed opposite a quadrant electrometer and made to study its construction and use." "Although this method," he adds, "is not without its disadvantages—for systematic instruction is of much value—there is something to be said for it. On the one hand, too long a course of experimenting on old and well known lines is likely to imbue the young student with the idea that all physics consists in learning the use of apparatus and repeating measurements which have already been made. On the other hand, too early attempts to investigate the unknown are likely to prove fruitless for want of manipulative skill and for want of knowledge of what has already been done."