JOHN NAPIER
1875-1940

MATHEMATICIAN, PHILOSOPHER and INVENTOR

He was ‘the person to whom the title of great man is more justly due than to any other whom this country has produced’. In this simple pronouncement, the Scottish intellectual David Flume summed up his fellow countryman John Napier.

Yet most Scots know little or nothing about the 16th-century mathematician, philosopher and inventor who, from his secluded tower in Scotland, produced the vital tool needed by mankind to explore the globe and fathom the universe. Without Napier's invention of logarithms and the decimal notation for complex fractions, the discoveries of others such as Galileo, Kepler and Newton would have been hindered by years of long and complex calculations.

For decades Napier wrestled with mathematics in the privacy of his home, while his superstitious neighbours grew convinced he was involved in sorcery and witchcraft. Dressing in a long, black gown to match his thick, black beard, he did nothing to dispel their illusions. He achieved one of the greatest mathematical discoveries of all time while living through one of the most violent and turbulent periods in Scotland’s history with his home town of Edinburgh embroiled in civil war and ravaged by the plague.

For centuries his reputation remained almost as obscure as the location of his unmarked grave somewhere in the capital. But his name now lives on at Napier University in Edinburgh, this year celebrating the 450th anniversary of his birth in 1550.

In June 2000 an honorary degree was conferred on Brigadier General John Hawkins Napier II, who travelled from his American home to receive the honour bestowed upon him thanks to his illustrious ancestor.

Now the university is setting its sights on education and encouraging the mathematical inquisitiveness which so characterised the esteemed man from whom it takes its name, as it prepares to launch John Napier’s Mathematical Challenge for Schools, to run over the coming months.

Best known in his lifetime as author of a Protestant theological work that probed the prophecies of the Apocalypse to prove the Pope was the Antichrist, Napier was far from the modern idea of a mathematician - he was a late-Renaissance man whose powers of lateral thinking took in everything from agricultural improvement to devising engines of war.

There was plenty of conflict brewing when he was born at Merchiston Castle outside Edinburgh, the son of Sir Archibald Napier, a Scottish judge and wealthy landowner.

Three years previously, Napier’s grandfather had been slain while fighting in the army of Mary Queen of Scots against the English at the Battle of Pinkie. John Napier would spend most of his life trying not to get involved in the sectarian strife that swept Scotland. He was not always successful — at 17 he was forced to study abroad, having left St Andrews University prematurely after his friendship with a Catholic student was thought inadvisable in such sensitive times.

Returning to Edinburgh in 1571, he found the capital plunged into civil war with constant skirmishes between the forces of Mary attempting a Catholic comeback, and those of her young son’s Regent, determined to maintain the Protestant Reformed church.

Napier returned to find his father imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle by the Queen’s party, while the family home at Merchiston was occupied by the forces of the Regent, then besieging Edinburgh. The following year, when Merchiston was bombarded by the guns of Edinburgh Castle, Napier sought refuge on one of the family estates at Gartness in Stirlingshire. There he met and fell in love with Elizabeth Stirling, daughter of a neighbouring landowner, and, in 1573, they married.

He built the family home on the banks of the River Endrick at Gartness. There, according to the Statistical Account of Scotland, ‘John Napier of Merchiston, Inventor of Logarithms, resided a great part of his time when he was making his calculations.

It is reported that the noise of the cascade, being constant, never gave him uneasiness; but that the clack of the mill, which was only occasional, greatly disturbed his thoughts. He was therefore, when in deep study, sometimes under the necessity of desiring the miller to stop the mill, that the train of his ideas might not be interrupted.’ In this haven of tranquillity, Napier’s young wife bore him a son and a daughter but their happiness was short-lived - in 1579, Elizabeth died. A few years Later, Napier remarried.

Agnes Chisholm, of Cromlix, Perthshire. was to bear him five sons and five daughters - a large and noisy brood for a man who liked to spend long hours in silent contemplation, a lone, eccentric figure accompanied only by a pet black cockerel.

In his head Napier might be wrestling with theological or mathematical complexities but to onlookers his behaviour seemed sinister. Rumours spread that he was a warlock after he enlisted the help of the  cockerel to discover which if his servants had been stealing from him. Each servant was ordered to go into a darkened room and stroke the cockerel - the bird would crow, said Napier, when the guilty servant touched it.

The bird remained silent but Napier stunned the household by immediately identifying the culprit. Surely this was sorcery. But all he had done was put soot on the cockerel's feathers - the innocent servants all had black on their hands, while the guilty one's were clean because he was afraid to touch the bird.

At Merchiston, when pigeons belonging to a neighbouring landowner had been eating Napier's grain, he threatened to restrain them. 'Do so, if you can catch them,' scoffed his neighbour. Next morning, Napier's servants could be seen stuffing hundreds of semi-conscious pigeons into sacks. Onlookers were convinced Napier had bewitched them - in fact he had simply scattered succulent peas soaked in wine to get the birds drunk and incapable.

He put this gift of original thought to good use in many fields, including the farmland around Gartness. He discovered that putting salt on the land would help kill weeds and fertilise the soil. He worked out the optimum quantities and published a book, The New Order of Gooding and Manuring all sorts of Field Land with Common Salt.

But he could do nothing to avert the plague that struck Edinburgh in the 1590's, when the city fathers expelled victims to plague houses which they erected without permission on Napier's land at Merchiston - he fought a long legal battle to have them removed.

To a modern mind, he also wasted much thought and ingenuity on obscure theology. But in 1593, when Napier published his "Plan Discovery of the Whole Revelation of St. John", his book became an international best-seller in the Protestant world, running to nine editions in Huguenot France, four in Germany and three in Holland, as well as five in English.

At a time when Protestant countries regarded Catholicism as a threat to national security, any book proving the Pope was the Antichrist was bound to go down well. Less acceptable was Napier's interest in the occult - he dabbled in alchemy and witchcraft and passed on his knowledge to his son Robert, although when King James was burning witches at Edinburgh Castle it was as well to keep this interest secret.

Napier's reputation as a sorcerer led him into dubious association with the thuggish Robert Logan of Restalrig, who had been involved in the Gowrie Conspiracy to abduct the King and imprison him at Fastcastle, Logan's private fortress on the East Coast, where his family were in the habit of committing robbery with violence on any passer-by. For this Logan had been declared an outlaw, yet inexplicably Napier agreed to help him search for buried treasure at Fastcastle. Luckily none were ever found, since Logan would rather have committed murder than hand over Napier's share.

But while dabbling in the occult was a private folly, Scotland's religious differences were a public grief for Napier. Since 1588, when the Spanish Armada threatened Protestant Scotland, he had been a commissioner of the Church of Scotland.

After the Armada was wrecked, Scottish Catholic nobles continued to intrigue with the King of Spain. Among them was Napier's father-in-law, Sir James Chisholm. In 1593, Napier had the unpleasant task of sitting on the Kirk convention that Sir James excommunicated.

Yet Napier was a staunch supporter of the Protestant cause and, when Catholic Spain threatened another invasion in 1596, he turned his powers on invention to weapons of war.

In his "Secrete Inventionis" he published details of a giant mirror to burn enemy ships by focusing the sun's rays on them, a man-powered tank, a submarine, and a form of artillery which could clear a field of anything standing over a foot high. In the event none of these were needed.

Napier pressed on with invention and theology and in fact it was not until the age of 64 that he published his greatest discovery - logarithms - with the boast: "This new course of Logarithms doth clean take away all the difficulty that heretofore hath been in mathematical calculations."

The impact of Napier's work was enormous. While explorers voyaged across the globe, they could not navigate accurately or map their discoveries because the calculations were too complicated to perform rapidly on board a ship. When a captain had a copy of Napier's log tables, all this changed.

Without an advance in mathematics to underpin the growth of science in understanding the universe, it had been impossible to chart the orbit of the planets around the sun - the necessary calculations were so complex that it would take decades to achieve. Napier's logarithms, for which he had devised the decimal point as a way of expressing complex fractions, enabled a breakthrough.

Johannes Kepler, who in 1609 first published his work on the laws of planetary motion, had taken four years to calculate the orbit of Mars alone.

It might have taken him longer than a lifetime to work out the rest, had he not obtained Napier's logarithms.

In 1619 he wrote to Napier to acknowledge his great debt - only to find the hitherto unknown Scottish mathematical genius had died two years previously.

But before his death Napier had left full details of how his logarithms had been calculated, and had left one final invention as a boon to the merchant classes. Napier's Rods, or Napier's Bones as they were called from the material they were made of, were in effect a powerful pocket calculator.

Each set of 11 rods, marked off in numbered squares, could be assembled in different ways to multiply or divide large numbers by reading down and across the columns of figures created.

But in such success lay his ultimate downfall.

In his calculations and methodologies he made possible the very modern technology which was to supersede him and render him until now, Scotland's greatest and most forgotten man.