Figure 24.—James Joseph Sylvester (1814-1897), mathematician and lecturer on straight-line linkages. From Proceedings of the Royal Society of London (1898, vol. 63, opposite p. 161).
Charles-Nicolas Peaucellier, a graduate of the Ecole Polytechnique and a captain in the French corps of engineers, was 32 years old in 1864 when he wrote a short letter to the editor of Nouvelles Annales de mathématiques (ser. 2, vol. 3, pp. 414-415) in Paris. He called attention to what he termed "compound compasses," a class of linkages that included Watt's parallel motion, the pantograph, and the polar planimeter. He proposed to design linkages to describe a straight line, a circle of any radius no matter how large, and conic sections, and he indicated in his letter that he had arrived at a solution.
This letter stirred no pens in reply, and during the next 10 years the problem merely led to the filling of a few academic pages by Peaucellier and Amédée Mannheim (1831-1906), also a graduate of Ecole Polytechnique, a professor of mathematics, and the designer of the Mannheim slide rule. Finally, in 1873, Captain Peaucellier gave his solution to the readers of the Nouvelles Annales. His reasoning, which has a distinct flavor of discovery by hindsight, was that since a linkage generates a curve that can be expressed algebraically, it must follow that any algebraic curve can be generated by a suitable linkage—it was only necessary to find the suitable linkage. He then gave a neat geometric proof, suggested by Mannheim, for his straight-line "compound compass."[42]
[ [42] Charles-Nicholas Peaucellier, "Note sur une question de geométrie de compas," Nouvelles Annales de mathématiques, 1873, ser. 2, vol. 12, pp. 71-78. A sketch of Mannheim's work is in Florian Cajori, A History of the Logarithmic Slide Rule, New York, about 1910, reprinted in String Figures and Other Monographs, New York, Chelsea Publishing Company, 1960.
On a Friday evening in January 1874 Albemarle Street in London was filled with carriages, each maneuvering to unload its charge of gentlemen and their ladies at the door of the venerable hall of the Royal Institution. Amidst a "mighty rustling of silks," the elegant crowd made its way to the auditorium for one of the famous weekly lectures. The speaker on this occasion was James Joseph Sylvester, a small intense man with an enormous head, sometime professor of mathematics at the University of Virginia, in America, and more recently at the Royal Military Academy in Woolwich. He spoke from the same rostrum that had been occupied by Davy, Faraday, Tyndall, Maxwell, and many other notable scientists. Professor Sylvester's subject was "Recent Discoveries in Mechanical Conversion of Motion."[43]
[ [43] Sylvester, op. cit. (footnote 41), pp. 179-198. It appears from a comment in this lecture that Sylvester was responsible for the word "linkage." According to Sylvester, a linkage consists of an even number of links, a "link-work" of an odd number. Since the fixed member was not considered as a link by Sylvester, this distinction became utterly confusing when Reuleaux's work was published in 1876. Although "link" was used by Watt in a patent specification, it is not probable that he ever used the term "link-work"—at any rate, my search for his use of it has been fruitless. "Link work" is used by Willis (op. cit. footnote 21), but the term most likely did not originate with him. I have not found the word "linkage" used earlier than Sylvester.
Remarking upon the popular appeal of most of the lectures, a contemporary observer noted that while many listeners might prefer to hear Professor Tyndall expound on the acoustic opacity of the atmosphere, "those of a higher and drier turn of mind experience ineffable delight when Professor Sylvester holds forth on the conversion of circular into parallel motion."[44]
[ [44] Bernard H. Becker, Scientific London, London, 1874, pp. 45, 50, 51.
Sylvester's aim was to bring the Peaucellier linkage to the notice of the English-speaking world, as it had been brought to his attention by Chebyshev—during a recent visit of the Russian to England—and to give his listeners some insight into the vastness of the field that he saw opened by the discovery of the French soldier.[45]