John Edensor Littlewood
In 1953, John Edensor Littlewood received the Copley Medal, a distinction that marked a long career dedicated to mathematics.
Born in Rochester on 9 June 1885, Littlewood was educated at St Paul's School before proceeding to Trinity College, University of Cambridge. His studies at Cambridge brought him early recognition in the form of the Smith's Prize, awarded during his time there. These years in Cambridge set the foundation for his professional life as a mathematician and university teacher.
Littlewood's notable work included the Littlewood–Offord problem and the First Hardy–Littlewood conjecture. His contributions to mathematics drew recognition from multiple quarters over the course of his career. He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society and received the De Morgan Medal and the Sylvester Medal, in addition to the Copley Medal. The Smith's Prize, received earlier in his career, had signalled his abilities at the outset. Working in English, Littlewood was a citizen of the United Kingdom throughout his life.
Littlewood died in Cambridge on 6 September 1977. The Copley Medal, received during his lifetime, stands as a concrete mark of the regard in which his peers held his work in mathematics.
Quotes by John Edensor Littlewood
The higher mental activities are pretty tough and resilient, but it is a devastating experience if the drive does stop. Some people lose it in their forties and can only stop. In England they are a source of Vice-Chancellors.
It is true that I should have been surprised in the past to learn that Professor Hardy had joined the Oxford Group. But one could not say the adverse chance was 1:10. Mathematics is a dangerous profession; an appreciable proportion of us go mad, and then this particular event would be quite likely.
The first lecture of each new year renews for most people a light stage fright.
I recall once saying that when I had given the same lecture several times I couldn’t help feeling that they really ought to know it by now.
I’ve been giving this lecture to first-year classes for over twenty-five years. You’d think they would begin to understand it by now.
In passing, I firmly believe that research should be offset by a certain amount of teaching, if only as a change from the agony of research. The trouble, however, I freely admit, is that in practice you get either no teaching, or else far too much.
A heavy warning used to be given that pictures are not rigorous; this has never had its bluff called and has permanently frightened its victims into playing for safety.
The referee said it was not acceptable, but the Press considered they could not refuse to publish a book by a professor of the university.