Lord Kelvin: a celebration
25th September 2024
Lord Kelvin: A celebration – Professor Martin Hendry
A review by member Croy Thompson of Professor Martin Hendry’s lecture
Introduced by our President, Professor Pat Monaghan, our annual soirée took place at the University of Glasgow on Wednesday 25th September 2024. The event celebrated the 200th Anniversary of the birth of Lord Kelvin, who held the Chair of Natural Philosophy at Glasgow University for 53 years, and was twice President of the Royal Philosophical Society.
The evening began with a lecture on Lord Kelvin given by Professor Martin Hendry, Professor of Gravitational Astrophysics and Cosmology at Glasgow University, who has a longstanding interest in Lord Kelvin and his legacy.
What is the measure of a man? His deeds or his words? His tangible discoveries or the ideas and actions he inspires in others? In Lord Kelvin’s instance, tick all of the above, repeatedly.
In the course of an engrossing hour, in the evocative setting of the 19th century Humanity Lecture Theatre, Professor Martin Hendry took a rapt audience on a well-illustrated, whistlestop journey through the life, times, methods and achievements of his hero, Lord Kelvin, aka William Thomson.
Our tour swung through Kelvin’s immense contributions to scientific progress, touching on engineering, thermo-dynamics, electricity, magnetism and the laying of a trans-Atlantic cable that revolutionised long-distance communication (why wait two weeks for a message when you can have it in two minutes, was the contemporary mindset). On this venture, in finest “moonshot level” spirit of adventure, Kelvin was aboard the cable-laying vessel. (“The Cable That Changed the World” is available on BBC iPlayer).
Mind you, Kelvin did say of the early development of radio, “Wireless telegraphy is all very well, but I’d rather send a message by a boy on a pony.” He also said, “X-rays are a hoax” and “Heavier than air flying machines are impossible.” But hey, we all make mistakes.
A lively, clear speaker, Professor Hendry – a self-confessed “Kelvin fanboy” – made a case for Kelvin being Glasgow University’s most eminent graduate. It’s no mean claim: Adam Smith runs Kelvin close, and there’s John Logie Baird, David Livingstone, James Watt, John Buchan … not forgetting Olympian Laura Muir, who’d literally outrun them all.
Kelvin co-wrote the first comprehensive textbook on Physics. (It can’t have been any good: I failed my Higher Physics). He launched spin-out companies to produce his pioneering instruments, such as more accurate compasses for the then globe-bestriding Royal Navy. His work on heat and energy, such as “the gravitational oscillations of rotating water,” remains applicable today, notably in studies of global warming. His “Siphon Recorder Pen” resembles a modern inkjet printer. In his lifetime he lodged 70 patents and published 700 scientific papers. He was politically influential, academically and commercially astute, and prodigiously hard-working (he submitted papers even when on holiday: once from the Isle of Arran, though maybe there wasn’t much else to do in 19th century Lamlash). Not bad for a lad who lost his mother when he was six.
Driven by his two mantras, “To measure is to know” and “The life and soul of science is its practical application,” Kelvin attained pioneering heights in science and engineering. He was also adept at transferring the knowledge accrued into practical use. Note, though, the word “soul” – Kelvin believed that every step forward in science helped reveal the existence of God.
Professor Hendry posed the oft-asked question, “How did Kelvin achieve so much?” The modern-day answer is, apparently, “He didn’t have to write grant applications.” But that’s by the by: for an hour we were in the company of one of Britain’s greatest sons, a man who should be revered more widely than he is, perhaps not least for the quote that applies so well to the Philosophical Society itself: “Let us be free in thought and criticism”.
Professor Pat Monaghan delivered the introduction and – while respectfully patting the bust of Kelvin on the head – thanked Professor Hendry. Thereafter we gravitated to the immeasurably excellent Hunterian Museum, for close study of canapes and refreshments.
Happy birthday, Lord Kelvin!