John Playfair - Mature Work

Mature Work

In 1795 Playfair published an alternative, more stringent formulation of Euclid's parallel postulate, which is now called Playfair's axiom; though the axiom bears Playfair's name, he did not create it, but credited others, in particular William Ludlam, with the prior use of it.

In 1802, Playfair published his celebrated volume entitled Illustrations of the Huttonian Theory of the Earth. The influence exerted by James Hutton on the development of geology is thought to be largely due to its publication. In 1805 Playfair exchanged the chair of mathematics for that of natural philosophy in succession to John Robison, whom also he succeeded as general secretary to the Royal Society of Edinburgh. He took a prominent part, on the liberal side, in the ecclesiastical controversy that arose in connexion with Sir John Leslie's appointment to the post he had vacated, and published a satirical Letter (1806).

Playfair was an opponent of Gottfried Leibniz's vis viva principle, an early version of the conservation of energy. In 1808, he launched an attack on John Smeaton and William Hyde Wollaston's work championing the theory.

Although a wealthy man, Playfair was buried in an unmarked grave in Old Calton Cemetery, on Waterloo Place in Edinburgh. However, the monument to his memory, on Calton Hill, is visible from the spot.

Read more about this topic:  John Playfair

Famous quotes containing the words mature and/or work:

    Many more children observe attitudes, values and ways different from or in conflict with those of their families, social networks, and institutions. Yet today’s young people are no more mature or capable of handling the increased conflicting and often stimulating information they receive than were young people of the past, who received the information and had more adult control of and advice about the information they did receive.
    James P. Comer (20th century)

    ... possibly there is no needful occupation which is wholly unbeautiful. The beauty of work depends upon the way we meet it—whether we arm ourselves each morning to attack it as an enemy that must be vanquished before night comes, or whether we open our eyes with the sunrise to welcome it as an approaching friend who will keep us delightful company all day, and who will make us feel, at evening, that the day was well worth its fatigues.
    Lucy Larcom (1824–1893)