Psychology and parenthood

by H. Addington Bruce

And, with the faithful co-operation of his wife, this was the way James Thomson brought up his own children. He taught them, boys and girls, to spell and to read almost as soon as they could speak. He taught them mathematics, history, geography, and the elements of natural science. One of the busiest of men—for he was a writer of mathematical textbooks as well as a classroom instructor—he made great sacrifices for the sake of their education. He would even get up at four in the morning to work on his text-books and to prepare his lectures, so as to be sure of having freedom to instruct his little ones during the day. Especially he made it a point to fertilise their minds, to whet their interest in worth while things, in the course of table-talk and when out walking with them.

“When spring came,” one of his daughters, Mrs. Elizabeth King, has recalled in a delightful volume of family reminiscences, “our father generally took a walk with us in the early morning before breakfast, and he used to invent interesting topics of conversation, which were carried on through successive mornings. Two of us held his hands and two walked quite near, but the places of honour were shared alternately by the four. I remember all being intensely interested in a series of talks on the progress of civilisation, in which every one, even little Willie, suggested ideas, and took part in the conversation.

“We also in these walks made imaginary voyages of discovery, full of adventure, calling at various ports, and sailing up rivers to obtain the products of the countries we visited, and become acquainted with the inhabitants. We explored the icy regions of the north, the burning deserts of Africa and Arabia, and the fragrant forests of Ceylon. There was no end to our travels and the wonders we saw when we walked with our father. Sometimes we transported ourselves to ancient days, and sailed with the Argonauts in search of the golden fleece, or accompanied the Greeks to Troy to recover the beautiful Helen, or joined Ulysses in his protracted wanderings. Our father always led the talk, but we all assisted.”

His two older sons, James and William, were the special objects of his care, particularly after their mother’s death, which occurred when James was eight and William six. After this sad event he lived more than ever with these two boys, giving up part of his bedroom to them, and diligently drilling them in the rudiments of an all-round education. When, in 1832, he was appointed professor of mathematics at his old university, he continued their home training, and in addition obtained permission for them to attend his university lectures and the lectures of some other professors.

Two years later, James being then twelve and William ten, they were admitted as full-fledged undergraduates. And, precocious though they were, they also were healthy, vigorous, active boys, full of fun and eager to romp and play. Like other boys they delighted in games and toys, with the sole difference that in many instances their toys were scientific instruments. Thus, they made with their own hands little electrical machines with which to give harmless and laughter-provoking shocks to their friends.

In a word, all who knew them liked them—and marvelled at them. There was abundant cause for marvel. Not only did they keep up with their studies with ease, but in more than one department of knowledge they outdid their classmates, some of whom were well into their twenties. The following excerpt from “The Book of the Jubilee” gives a vivid idea of the scholastic achievements of these two remarkable boys in the first years of their life at Glasgow University:

“At the end of his first winter’s work William Thomson carried off two prizes in the Humanity Class; this before he was eleven. In the next session we follow him to the classes of Natural History and Greek—we wonder what the present occupants of these chairs would say to a stripling under twelve who presented himself at their lectures—and his name figures in both prize-lists.

“Sympathy is not lacking for the hard-worked school-boy of to-day; but what would the child of twelve think of the holiday task of translating Lucian’s ‘Dialogues of the Gods,’ with full parsing of the first three dialogues! This is the piece of work for which William Thomson, Glasgow College, receives a prize in May, 1836.

“Next session we find the two brothers together in the Junior Mathematical Class, of the Junior Division of which they are first and second prize-men. They appear again at the head of the list for the Monthly Voluntary Examinations on the work of the class and its applications. Proceeding to the Senior Mathematical Class in 1837–38, they again stand at the top, nor have they failed to present themselves for the Voluntary Examinations. William is not satisfied with this class, but in addition receives the second prize in the Junior Division of Professor Robert Buchanan’s Logic Class.”

And, continuing to win laurels, at the close of the next session they took the first and second places as prize-men in natural philosophy, while William the following year gained the class prize in astronomy, and was awarded a university medal for an essay, “On the Figure of the Earth,” the manuscript of which, a carefully bound volume of eighty-five pages, is still in existence. He was then not sixteen years old.