When it comes to maths, I don’t really consider myself a noob.

Of course, there’s a lot I don’t know. In fact, it’s a common belief that the last mathematician to know ‘everything’ (that is, to at least be familiar with everything) was David Hilbert — and that only really applies to the early 20th century.

Today, there is simply no way for you to be an expert in every field or even, in a substantial number of fields. There’s simply too much to know. You’d be spending the whole span of your life, playing catch-up with what’s been done and what’s being done.

But yeah. I’m not a noob, y’know?

For example, I think it’s safe to say I know my way around integration. Single, double, or triple integration — no problem. Laplace integrals, Fourier integrals, Elliptic integrals — piece of cake. Even more deviant and exotic creatures like Error functions, Fresnel integrals, Airy integrals, and so on and so forth I’ve encountered.

Today, however, I met a new beast. At first glance, I treated with disdain.

After longer, more protracted glance, I’m happy to report I’m still…uh…pretty repulsed by the whole thing.

The formula in question was derived by the Australian mathematician, John Henry Mitchell in 1898. The formula, which can be used to calculate the wave resistance for ships of different forms, was intended to revolutionize the Naval Engineering community.

It didn’t.

The popular theory is that the engineers took one look at the formula, went “Eeewww”, and promptly burnt the article.

People then go on to theorize that Mitchell’s short career (10 years?) in research mathematics was due to his disgust at the reception of this work.

But looking at the formula, can you really blame the community?

Quintic

Yuck.

Things I Don’t Care to See #138: A quintuplet integration.

P.S. If you’re feeling particularly bad about the poor Aussie, don’t be. His work in the 1898 paper is now seen as one of the most important and revolutionary contributions to hydrodynamic ship resistance.

If only I can be so lucky.