Taxicabs and sums of two cubes
Taxicabs and sums of two cubes
复制标题
出租车和两个立方的和
DOI:
10.1080/00029890.1993.11990409
复制
发表时间:
1993
影响因子:
0.5
通讯作者:
J. Silverman
中科院分区:
文献类型:
--
作者:
J. Silverman
Our story begins in 1913, when the distinguished British mathematician G. H. Hardy received a bulky envelope from India full of page after page of equations. Every famous mathematician periodically receives letters from cranks who claim to have proven the most wonderous results. Sometimes the proofs, incorrect or incoherent, are included. At other times the writer solicits a reward in return for revealing his discoveries. Now this letter to Hardy, which was from a poor clerk in Madras by the name of Ramanujan, was filled with equations, all given without any sort of proof. Some of the formulas were well-known, mere exercises; while many of the others looked preposterous to Hardy's trained eye. Who would have blamed Hardy if he had returned this missive to the sender, unread? And in fact, Ramanujan had previously sent his results to two other British mathematicians, each of whom had done just that! But instead Hardy gave some thought to these "wild theorems. Theorems such as he had never seen before, nor imagined."' And together, he and J. E. Littlewood, another eminent mathematician with whom Hardy often worked, succeeded in proving some of Ramanujan's amazing identities. At this point Hardy realized that this letter was from a true mathematical genius, and he became determined that Ramanujan should come to England to pursue his mathematical researches. Using travel money provided by Hardy's college, Ramanujan arrived in 1914. Over the next several years he continued to produce and publish highly original material, and he also collaborated with Hardy on a number of outstanding papers. In 1918, at the age of 30, Ramanujan was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society and also of Trinity College, both signal honors which he richly deserved. Unfortunately, in the colder climate of England he contracted tuberculosis. He returned to his native Madras and died, in 1920, at the age of 33. During all of Ramanujan's life, he considered numbers to be his personal friends. To illustrate, Hardy tells the story of how one day he visited Ramanujan in the hospital. At a loss for something to say, Hardy remarked that he had arrived at the hospital in taxicab number 1729. "It seemed to me," he continued, "a rather dull number." To which Ramanujan replied "No, Hardy! It is a very interesting number. It is the smallest number expressible as a sum of two cubes in two different ways:"2