by E. T. Bell
Unlike Newton in his later years, Gauss was never attracted by the rewards of public office, although his keen interest and sagacity in all matters pertaining to the sciences of statistics, insurance, and “political arithmetic” would have made him a good minister of finance. Till his last illness he found complete satisfaction in his science and his simple recreations. Wide reading in the literatures of Europe and the classics of antiquity, a critical interest in world politics, and the mastery of foreign languages and new sciences (including botany and mineralogy) were his hobbies.
English literature especially attracted him, although its darker aspect as in Shakespeare’s tragedies was too much for the great mathematician’s acute sensitiveness to all forms of suffering, and he tried to pick his way through the happier masterpieces. The novels of Sir Walter Scott (who was a contemporary of Gauss) were read eagerly as they came out, but the unhappy ending of Kenilworth made Gauss wretched for days and he regretted having read the story. One slip of Sir Walter’s tickled the mathematical astronomer into delighted laughter, “the moon rises broad in the northwest,” and he went about for days correcting all the copies he could find. Historical works in English, particularly Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire and Macaulay’s History of England gave him special pleasure.
For his meteoric young contemporary Lord Byron, Gauss had almost an aversion. Byron’s posturing, his reiterated world-weariness, his affected misanthropy, and his romantic good looks had captivated the sentimental Germans even more completely than they did the stolid British who—at least the older males—thought Byron somewhat of a silly ass. Gauss saw through Byron’s histrionics and disliked him. No man who guzzled good brandy and pretty women as assiduously as Byron did could be so very weary of the world as the naughty young poet with the flashing eye and the shaking hand pretended to be.
In the literature of his own country Gauss’ tastes were somewhat unusual for an intellectual German. Jean Paul was his favorite German poet; Goethe and Schiller, whose lives partly overlapped his own, he did not esteem very highly. Goethe, he said, was unsatisfying. Being completely at variance with Schiller’s philosophical tenets, Gauss disliked his poetry. He called Resignation a blasphemous, corrupt poem and wrote “Mephistopheles!” on the margin of his copy.
The facility with which he mastered languages in his youth stayed with Gauss all his life. Languages were rather more to him than a hobby. To test the plasticity of his mind as he grew older he would deliberately acquire a new language. The exercise, he believed, helped to keep his mind young. At the age of sixty two he began an intensive study of Russian without assistance from anyone. Within two years he was reading Russian prose and poetical works fluently, and carrying on his correspondence with scientific friends in St. Petersburg wholly in Russian. In the opinion of Russians who visited him in Göttingen he also spoke the language perfectly. Russian literature he put on a par with English for the pleasure it gave him. He also tried Sanskrit but disliked it.
His third hobby, world politics, absorbed an hour or so of his time every day. Visiting the literary museum regularly, he kept abreast of events by reading all the newspapers to which the museum subscribed, from the London Times to the Göttingen local news.
In politics the intellectual aristocrat Gauss was conservative through and through, but in no sense reactionary. His times were turbulent, both in his own country and abroad. Mob rule and acts of political violence roused in him—as his friend Von Waltershausen reports—“an indescribable horror.” The Paris revolt of 1848 filled him with dismay.
The son of poor parents himself, familiar from infancy with the intelligence and morality of “the masses,” Gauss remembered what he had observed, and his opinion of the intelligence, morality, and political acumen of “the people”—taken in the mass, as demagogues find and take them—was extremely low. “Mundus vult decepi” he believed a true saying.
This disbelief in the innate morality, integrity, and intelligence of Rousseau’s “natural man” when massed into a mob or when deliberating in cabinets, parliaments, congresses, and senates, was no doubt partly inspired by Gauss’ intimate knowledge, as a man of science, of what “the natural man” did to the scientists of France in the early days of the French Revolution. It may be true, as the revolutionists declared, that “the people have no need of science,” but such a declaration to a man of Gauss’ temperament was a challenge. Accepting the challenge, Gauss in his turn expressed his acid contempt for all “leaders of the people” who lead the people into turmoil for their own profit. As he aged he saw peace and simple contentment as the only good things in any country. Should civil war break out in Germany, he said, he would as soon be dead. Foreign conquest in the grand Napoleonic manner he looked upon as an incomprehensible madness.
These conservative sentiments were not the nostalgia of a reactionary who bids the world defy the laws of celestial mechanics and stand still in the heavens of a dead and unchanging past. Gauss believed in reforms—when they were intelligent. And if brains are not to judge when reforms are intelligent and when they are not, what organ of the human body is? Gauss had brains enough to see where the ambitions of some of the great statesmen of his own reforming generation were taking Europe. The spectacle did not inspire his confidence.
His more progressive friends ascribed Gauss’ conservatism to the closeness with which he stuck to his work. This may have had something to do with it. For the last twenty seven years of his life Gauss slept away from his observatory only once, when he attended a scientific meeting in Berlin to please Alexander von Humboldt who wished to show him off. But a man does not always have to be flying about all over the map to see what is going on. Brains and the ability to read newspapers (even when they lie) and government reports (especially when they lie) are sometimes better than any amount of sightseeing and hotel lobby gossip. Gauss stayed at home, read, disbelieved most of what he read, thought, and arrived at the truth.
Another source of Gauss’ strength was his scientific serenity and his freedom from personal ambition. All his ambition was for the advancement of mathematics. When rivals doubted his assertion that he had anticipated them—not stated boastfully, but as a fact germane to the matter in hand—Gauss did not exhibit his diary to prove his priority but let his statement stand on its own merits.
Legendre was the most outspoken of these doubters. One experience made him Gauss’ enemy for life. In the Theoria motus Gauss had referred to his early discovery of the method of least squares. Legendre published the method in 1806, before Gauss. With great indignation he wrote to Gauss practically accusing him of dishonesty and complaining that Gauss, so rich in discoveries, might have had the decency not to appropriate the method of least squares, which Legendre regarded as his own ewe lamb. Laplace entered the quarrel. Whether he believed the assurances of Gauss that Legendre had indeed been anticipated by ten years or more, he does not say, but he retains his usual suavity. Gauss apparently disdained to argue the matter further. But in a letter to a friend he indicates the evidence which might have ended the dispute then and there had Gauss not been “too proud to fight.” “I communicated the whole matter to Olbers in 1802,” he says, and if Legendre had been inclined to doubt this he could have asked Olbers, who had the manuscript.
The dispute was most unfortunate for the subsequent development of mathematics, as Legendre passed on his unjustified suspicions to Jacobi and so prevented that dazzling young developer of the theory of elliptic functions from coming to cordial terms with Gauss. The misunderstanding was all the more regrettable because Legendre was a man of the highest character and scrupulously fair himself. It was his fate to be surpassed by more imaginative mathematicians than himself in the fields where most of his long and laborious life was spent in toil which younger men—Gauss, Abel, and Jacobi—showed to have been superfluous. At every step Gauss strode far ahead of Legendre. Yet when Legendre accused him of unfair dealing Gauss felt that he himself had been left in the lurch. Writing
to Schumacher (July SO, 1806), he complains that “It seems to be my fate to concur in nearly all my theoretical works with Legendre. So it is in the higher arithmetic, in the researches in transcendental functions connected with the rectification [the process for finding the length of an arc of a curve] of the ellipse, in the foundations of geometry and now again here [in the method of least squares, which] . . . is also used in Legendre’s work and indeed right gallantly carried through.”
With the detailed publication of Gauss’ posthumous papers and much of his correspondence in recent years all these old disputes have been settled once for all in favor of Gauss. There remains another score on which he has been criticized, his lack of cordiality in welcoming the great work of others, particularly of younger men. When Cauchy began publishing his brilliant discoveries in the theory of functions of a complex variable, Gauss ignored them. No word of praise or encouragement came from the Prince of Mathematicians to the young Frenchman. Well, why should it have come? Gauss himself (as we have seen) had reached the heart of the matter years before Cauchy started. A memoir on the theory was to have been one of Gauss’ masterpieces. Again, when Hamilton’s work on quaternions (to be considered in a later chapter) came to his attention in 1852, three years before his death, Gauss said nothing. Why should he have said anything? The crux of the matter lay buried in his notes of more than thirty years before. He held his peace and made no claim for priority. As in his anticipations of the theory of functions of a complex variable, elliptic functions, and non-Euclidean geometry, Gauss was content to have done the work.
The gist of quaternions is the algebra which does for rotations in space of three dimensions what the algebra of complex numbers does for rotations in a plane. But in quaternions (Gauss called them mutations) one of the fundamental rules of algebra breaks down: it is no longer true that a × b = b × a, and it is impossible to make an algebra of rotations in three dimensions in which this rule is preserved. Hamilton, one of the great mathematical geniuses of the nineteenth century, records with Irish exuberance how he struggled for fifteen years to invent a consistent algebra to do what was required until a happy inspiration gave him the clue that a × b is not equal to b × a in the algebra he was seeking. Gauss does not state how long it took him to reach the goal; he merely records his success in a few pages of algebra that leave no mathematics to the imagination.
If Gauss was somewhat cool in his printed expressions of appreciation he was cordial enough in his correspondence and in his scientific relations with those who sought him out in a spirit of disinterested inquiry. One of his scientific friendships is of more than mathematical interest as it shows the liberality of Gauss’ views regarding women scientific workers. His broadmindedness in this respect would have been remarkable for any man of his generation; for a German it was almost without precedent.
The lady in question was Mademoiselle Sophie Germain (1776–1831)—just a year older than Gauss. She and Gauss never met, and she died (in Paris) before the University of Göttingen could confer the honorary doctor’s degree which Gauss recommended to the faculty. By a curious coincidence we shall see the most celebrated woman mathematician of the nineteenth century, another Sophie, getting her degree from the same liberal University many years later after Berlin had refused her on account of her sex. Sophie appears to be a lucky name in mathematics for women—provided they affiliate with broadminded teachers. The leading woman mathematician of our own times, Emmy Noether (1882-1935) also came from Göttingen.IV
Sophie Germain’s scientific interests embraced acoustics, the mathematical theory of elasticity, and the higher arithmetic, in all of which she did notable work. One contribution in particular to the study of Fermat’s Last Theorem led in 1908 to a considerable advance in this direction by the American mathematician Leonard Eugene Dickson (1874 ←).
Entranced by the Disquisitiones Arithmeticae, Sophie wrote to Gauss some of her own arithmetical observations. Fearing that Gauss might be prejudiced against a woman mathematician, she assumed a man’s name. Gauss formed a high opinion of the talented correspondent whom he addressed in excellent French as “Mr. Leblanc.”
Leblanc dropped her—or his—disguise when she was forced to divulge her true name to Gauss on the occasion of her having done him a good turn with the French infesting Hanover. Writing on April 30, 1807, Gauss thanks his correspondent for her intervention on his behalf with the French General Pernety and deplores the war. Continuing, he pays her a high compliment and expresses something of his own love for the theory of numbers. As the latter is particularly of interest we shall quote from this letter which shows Gauss in one of his cordially human moods.
“But how describe to you my admiration and astonishment at seeing my esteemed correspondent Mr. Leblanc metamorphose himself into this illustrious personage [Sophie Germain] who gives such a brilliant example of what I would find it difficult to believe. A taste for the abstract sciences in general and above all the mysteries of numbers is excessively rare: one is not astonished at it; the enchanting charms of this sublime science reveal themselves only to those who have the courage to go deeply into it. But when a person of the sex which, according to our customs and prejudices, must encounter infinitely more difficulties than men to familiarize herself with these thorny researches, succeeds nevertheless in surmounting these obstacles and penetrating the most obscure parts of them, then without doubt she must have the noblest courage, quite extraordinary talents and a superior genius. Indeed nothing could prove to me in so flattering and less equivocal manner that the attractions of this science, which has enriched my life with so many joys, are not chimerical, as the predilection with which you have honored it.” He then goes on to discuss mathematics with her. A delightful touch is the date at the end of the letter: “Bronsvic ce 30 Avril 1807 jour de ma naissance—Brunswick, this 30th of April, 1807, my birthday.”
That Gauss was not merely being polite to a young woman admirer is shown by a letter of July 21, 1807 to his friend Olbers. “. . . Lagrange is warmly interested in astronomy and the higher arithmetic; the two test-theorems (for what primes 2 is a cubic or a biquadratic residue), which I also communicated to him some time ago, he considers ’among the most beautiful things and the most difficult to prove/ But Sophie Germain has sent me the proofs of these; I have not yet been able to go through them, but I believe they are good; at least she had attacked the matter from the right side, only somewhat more diffusely than would be necessary. . . .” The theorems to which Gauss refers are those stating for what odd primes p each of the congruences x3 ≡ 2 (mod p), x4 ≡ 2 (mod p) is solvable.
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It would take a long book (possibly a longer one than would be required for Newton) to describe all the outstanding contributions of Gauss to mathematics, both pure and applied. Here we can only refer to some of the more important works that have not already been mentioned, and we shall select those which have added new techniques to mathematics or which rounded off outstanding problems. As a rough but convenient table of dates (from that adopted by the editors of Gauss’ works) we summarize the principal fields of Gauss’ interests after 1800 as follows: 1800-1820, astronomy; 1820-1830, geodesy, the theories of surfaces, and conformal mapping; 1830-1840, mathematical physics, particularly electromagnetism, terrestrial magnetism, and the theory of attraction according to the Newtonian law; 18411855, analysis situs, and the geometry associated with functions of a complex variable.
During the period 1821-1848 Gauss was scientific adviser to the Hanoverian (Göttingen was then under the government of Hanover) and Danish governments in an extensive geodetic survey. Gauss threw himself into the work. His method of least squares and his skill in devising schemes for handling masses of numerical data had full scope but, more importantly, the problems arising in the precise survey of a portion of the earth’s surface undoubtedly suggested deeper and more general problems connected with all curved surfaces. These researches were to beget the mathematics of relativity. The subject was not n
ew: several of Gauss’ predecessors, notably Euler, Lagrange, and Monge, had investigated geometry on certain types of curved surfaces, but it remained for Gauss to attack the problem in all its generality, and from his investigations the first great period of differential geometry developed.
Differential geometry may be roughly described as the study of properties of curves, surfaces, etc., in the immediate neighborhood of a point, so that higher powers than the second of distances can be neglected. Inspired by this work, Riemann in 1854 produced his classic dissertation on the hypotheses which lie at the foundations of geometry, which, in its turn, began the second great period in differential geometry, that which is today of use in mathematical physics, particularly in the theory of general relativity.
Three of the problems which Gauss considered in his work on surfaces suggested general theories of mathematical and scientific importance: the measurement of curvature, the theory of conformal representation (or mapping), and the applicability of surfaces.
The unnecessarily mystical motion of a “curved” space-time, which is a purely mathematical extension of familiar, visualizable curvature to a “space” described by four coordinates instead of two, was a natural development of Gauss’ work on curved surfaces. One of his definitions will illustrate the reasonableness of all. The problem is to devise some precise means for describing how the “curvature” of a surface varies from point to point of the surface; the description must satisfy our intuitive feeling for what “more curved” and “less curved” signify.