MacTutor
Alec Aitken
Times obituary
Mr. Derek Hudson writes:
Professor Alexander Aitken, F.R.S. of Edinburgh University, was one of New Zealand's most remarkable sons. He displayed his unusual genius not only in his published mathematical works, among them The Case Against Decimalization (1962), but also by his extraordinary skill in mental calculation, described in an article in the British Journal of Psychology as possibly exceeding "that of any other person for whom precise authenticated records exist." As a young teacher, a single reading of the names and initials of a new class of 35 boys enabled him never to consult the lists again. During his war service, he recited the roll, complete with regimental numbers, of every man in his platoon when the rollbook was lost.
Ailken was passionate about music and became a violinist and composer of considerable talent. Eric Fenby has described him as the most accomplished amateur musician he has ever known. His fiddle cheered his companions in dugouts and bivouacs throughout his service in the 1914-18 War and is now a treasured possession of his old school, Otago Boys High School, where it reposes in a glass case in the front hall
Aitken left it late to publish his account of his war experiences. He wrote a first draft in 1917, after he had returned, wounded, to New Zealand, and later gave it a scrupulous revision. On its publication as Gallipoli to the Somme in 1963, it was immediately recognized both as an exact account and as a literary masterpiece, which Sir Bernard Fergusson has rated with Undertones of War as an epic of devotion and sacrifice. He was elected of the Royal Society of Literature in 1964, and he appreciated the tribute all the more because in his last year he suffered from the effect of a severe breakdown, the penalty of his unique sensitivity, which brought his mental activity to an end. He will be remembered for his genius that is already legendary and for a modest charm of which every reader of Gallipoli to the Somme must be immediately aware.
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Professor A Collar writes:
Alexander Aitken was not merely a brilliant mathematician; he also had, to a large extent, the kind of mystical insight into problems which characterized, for example, Isaac Newton. On being presented with a problem, he would instinctively know the answer, so that he could reply by return of post saying: "The answer to your problem is so-and-so; I do not yet know why, but I shall hope to send you a proof in the next few days"—and this he invariably did.
Moreover, his remarkable -- almost incredible -- memory, to which your notice refers, was something he himself did not understand. I once asked him, at lunch, "What ratio of integral numbers of gear teeth would give a gear ratio of which the first three figures are such-and-such?" Immediately, he replied that it would be the ratio of two numbers, both in the hundreds, and he wrote, without stopping and apparently without thinking, on the back of the menu card, the answer which began with my three figures but which in full was a 46-place recurring decimal. Asked how he did it, he replied that he did not know, but that he thought he must at some time in his life have actually performed this division and was subconsciously remembering it. While he was perhaps best known for his arithmetical genius, his mathematical work was of the highest quality. He was at his best in dealing with arrays of quantities, and his part in popularizing matrix algebra and analysis may not yet be fully realized.
Finally, perhaps, reference should be made to the recurrent illness which was a legacy of his experiences in the Battle of the Somme and which he tried to exorcise by writing From Gallipoli to the Somme. These black periods must have been harrowing in the extreme, but were borne with great fortitude and courage.
Mr. Derek Hudson writes:
Professor Alexander Aitken, F.R.S. of Edinburgh University, was one of New Zealand's most remarkable sons. He displayed his unusual genius not only in his published mathematical works, among them The Case Against Decimalization (1962), but also by his extraordinary skill in mental calculation, described in an article in the British Journal of Psychology as possibly exceeding "that of any other person for whom precise authenticated records exist." As a young teacher, a single reading of the names and initials of a new class of 35 boys enabled him never to consult the lists again. During his war service, he recited the roll, complete with regimental numbers, of every man in his platoon when the rollbook was lost.
Ailken was passionate about music and became a violinist and composer of considerable talent. Eric Fenby has described him as the most accomplished amateur musician he has ever known. His fiddle cheered his companions in dugouts and bivouacs throughout his service in the 1914-18 War and is now a treasured possession of his old school, Otago Boys High School, where it reposes in a glass case in the front hall
Aitken left it late to publish his account of his war experiences. He wrote a first draft in 1917, after he had returned, wounded, to New Zealand, and later gave it a scrupulous revision. On its publication as Gallipoli to the Somme in 1963, it was immediately recognized both as an exact account and as a literary masterpiece, which Sir Bernard Fergusson has rated with Undertones of War as an epic of devotion and sacrifice. He was elected of the Royal Society of Literature in 1964, and he appreciated the tribute all the more because in his last year he suffered from the effect of a severe breakdown, the penalty of his unique sensitivity, which brought his mental activity to an end. He will be remembered for his genius that is already legendary and for a modest charm of which every reader of Gallipoli to the Somme must be immediately aware.
__________________________________________________________
Professor A Collar writes:
Alexander Aitken was not merely a brilliant mathematician; he also had, to a large extent, the kind of mystical insight into problems which characterized, for example, Isaac Newton. On being presented with a problem, he would instinctively know the answer, so that he could reply by return of post saying: "The answer to your problem is so-and-so; I do not yet know why, but I shall hope to send you a proof in the next few days"—and this he invariably did.
Moreover, his remarkable -- almost incredible -- memory, to which your notice refers, was something he himself did not understand. I once asked him, at lunch, "What ratio of integral numbers of gear teeth would give a gear ratio of which the first three figures are such-and-such?" Immediately, he replied that it would be the ratio of two numbers, both in the hundreds, and he wrote, without stopping and apparently without thinking, on the back of the menu card, the answer which began with my three figures but which in full was a 46-place recurring decimal. Asked how he did it, he replied that he did not know, but that he thought he must at some time in his life have actually performed this division and was subconsciously remembering it. While he was perhaps best known for his arithmetical genius, his mathematical work was of the highest quality. He was at his best in dealing with arrays of quantities, and his part in popularizing matrix algebra and analysis may not yet be fully realized.
Finally, perhaps, reference should be made to the recurrent illness which was a legacy of his experiences in the Battle of the Somme and which he tried to exorcise by writing From Gallipoli to the Somme. These black periods must have been harrowing in the extreme, but were borne with great fortitude and courage.
