<p>Godfrey Harold Hardy had no faith in intuition or impressions, his own or anyone else’s. The only way to assess one’s knowledge, he believed, was to test oneself -- whether mathematics, literature, philosophy, cricket or anything else. His mind was brilliant: by his side anyone else’s seemed a little muddy, a little pedestrian. Yet, he said with self-effacing humility that he was no genius, and at his best was for a short time the fifth-best pure mathematician in the world. Since his character was as beautiful as his mind, he pointed out that his protégé, Srinivasa Ramanujan, had natural genius in the sense that the greatest mathematicians had it.</p>.<p>G H Hardy was born in 1877 in England, and by the time he was two years old was demonstrating prodigious ability with numbers. He had an enlightened, cultivated, Victorian childhood, though with one feature: an acute self-consciousness that he developed before he turned 12. He was so very self-effacing that he could not endure his photograph being taken, and there are said to be only five snapshots in existence; and he would not have any looking glass in his room, not even a shaving mirror.</p>.<p>At 12, Hardy was given a scholarship to Winchester, then and for long afterwards, the best Mathematical School in England. When he left Winchester, it was with an open scholarship to Trinity. Hardy writes in his autobiography, “…Mathematics meant to me primarily a Fellowship of Trinity,” which he duly obtained at 22, after getting the highest place in the Mathematical Tripos Part II.</p>.<p>There was one minor challenge along the way: Hardy had decided before he left Winchester that he did not believe in God. With him, it was a black and white decision, as sharp and clear as all other concepts in his mind. Chapel at Trinity was compulsory, and Hardy told the Dean that he could not conscientiously attend. The Dean insisted that Hardy write to his parents and inform them, and Hardy knew that it would cause his orthodox, religious parents, great pain. Hardy struggled with his conscience and eventually wrote the letter. His religious disbelief remained open and active ever after; and he refused to enter any chapel even for formal business like electing a Master.</p>.<p>Hardy soon emerged as one of the great pure mathematicians of his era, renowned for his work in number theory and mathematical analysis. The most famous collaboration in the history of mathematics is that between Hardy and his long-time friend and fellow mathematician J E Littlewood that lasted over 35 years and produced over 100 papers. The Hardy-Littlewood researches dominated English pure mathematics, and much of world pure mathematics, for a generation.</p>.<p>About his discovery of Ramanujan, he showed no secrecy at all. It was, he wrote, the one romantic incident in his life: one morning in early 1913, he found amongst his letters, a large untidy envelope decorated with Indian stamps. He glanced at the letter written in halting English, signed by an unknown Indian, and consisting of theorems without proof, and some of them already well-known. Soon, though, Hardy and Littlewood pored over the manuscript and in less than a few hours knew, and knew for certain, that the author of the manuscript was a man of genius -- his soon to be protégé’-- Srinivasa Ramanujan. They went on to produce, together, five papers of the highest class. There was something else, though, that made Hardy exceptional; and that is at turning any work of the intellect into a work of art.</p>.<p>Hardy’s autobiographical essay is perhaps the finest piece of prose one might ever find. Hardy begins with the questions: “I shall ask, then, why is it really worthwhile to make a serious study of mathematics? What is the proper justification of a mathematician’s life?” He goes on to observe that great work is never accomplished by ‘humble’ people. When dealing with knowledge, one must learn to recognise the importance of the work one does; and the importance of one’s role in that work. A person that sets out to achieve excellence has to distinguish between two different questions: whether the work that s/he does is worth doing; and second, why s/he does it, whatever its value may be. The first question is often difficult, but most people will find the second easy enough. The answer, if they are honest, is: I do what I do because it is the one thing that I can do at all well. Hardy’s autobiographical essay demonstrates how work can become love’s labour, and why one must strive to excel. A Mathematician’s Apology dazzles with the truth and beauty of mathematics, shows you that the creative life is one worth living, and work done well is a joy in itself.</p>
<p>Godfrey Harold Hardy had no faith in intuition or impressions, his own or anyone else’s. The only way to assess one’s knowledge, he believed, was to test oneself -- whether mathematics, literature, philosophy, cricket or anything else. His mind was brilliant: by his side anyone else’s seemed a little muddy, a little pedestrian. Yet, he said with self-effacing humility that he was no genius, and at his best was for a short time the fifth-best pure mathematician in the world. Since his character was as beautiful as his mind, he pointed out that his protégé, Srinivasa Ramanujan, had natural genius in the sense that the greatest mathematicians had it.</p>.<p>G H Hardy was born in 1877 in England, and by the time he was two years old was demonstrating prodigious ability with numbers. He had an enlightened, cultivated, Victorian childhood, though with one feature: an acute self-consciousness that he developed before he turned 12. He was so very self-effacing that he could not endure his photograph being taken, and there are said to be only five snapshots in existence; and he would not have any looking glass in his room, not even a shaving mirror.</p>.<p>At 12, Hardy was given a scholarship to Winchester, then and for long afterwards, the best Mathematical School in England. When he left Winchester, it was with an open scholarship to Trinity. Hardy writes in his autobiography, “…Mathematics meant to me primarily a Fellowship of Trinity,” which he duly obtained at 22, after getting the highest place in the Mathematical Tripos Part II.</p>.<p>There was one minor challenge along the way: Hardy had decided before he left Winchester that he did not believe in God. With him, it was a black and white decision, as sharp and clear as all other concepts in his mind. Chapel at Trinity was compulsory, and Hardy told the Dean that he could not conscientiously attend. The Dean insisted that Hardy write to his parents and inform them, and Hardy knew that it would cause his orthodox, religious parents, great pain. Hardy struggled with his conscience and eventually wrote the letter. His religious disbelief remained open and active ever after; and he refused to enter any chapel even for formal business like electing a Master.</p>.<p>Hardy soon emerged as one of the great pure mathematicians of his era, renowned for his work in number theory and mathematical analysis. The most famous collaboration in the history of mathematics is that between Hardy and his long-time friend and fellow mathematician J E Littlewood that lasted over 35 years and produced over 100 papers. The Hardy-Littlewood researches dominated English pure mathematics, and much of world pure mathematics, for a generation.</p>.<p>About his discovery of Ramanujan, he showed no secrecy at all. It was, he wrote, the one romantic incident in his life: one morning in early 1913, he found amongst his letters, a large untidy envelope decorated with Indian stamps. He glanced at the letter written in halting English, signed by an unknown Indian, and consisting of theorems without proof, and some of them already well-known. Soon, though, Hardy and Littlewood pored over the manuscript and in less than a few hours knew, and knew for certain, that the author of the manuscript was a man of genius -- his soon to be protégé’-- Srinivasa Ramanujan. They went on to produce, together, five papers of the highest class. There was something else, though, that made Hardy exceptional; and that is at turning any work of the intellect into a work of art.</p>.<p>Hardy’s autobiographical essay is perhaps the finest piece of prose one might ever find. Hardy begins with the questions: “I shall ask, then, why is it really worthwhile to make a serious study of mathematics? What is the proper justification of a mathematician’s life?” He goes on to observe that great work is never accomplished by ‘humble’ people. When dealing with knowledge, one must learn to recognise the importance of the work one does; and the importance of one’s role in that work. A person that sets out to achieve excellence has to distinguish between two different questions: whether the work that s/he does is worth doing; and second, why s/he does it, whatever its value may be. The first question is often difficult, but most people will find the second easy enough. The answer, if they are honest, is: I do what I do because it is the one thing that I can do at all well. Hardy’s autobiographical essay demonstrates how work can become love’s labour, and why one must strive to excel. A Mathematician’s Apology dazzles with the truth and beauty of mathematics, shows you that the creative life is one worth living, and work done well is a joy in itself.</p>