A Tangled Tale Lewis Carroll (books for 20 year olds TXT) 📖

When the result is not thus connected with the varying elements, the Problem ceases to be Double Rule of Three and often becomes one of great complexity.

To illustrate this, let us take two candidates for a prize, A and B, who are to compete in French, German, and Italian:

Let it be laid down that the result is to depend on their relative knowledge of each subject, so that, whether their marks, for French, be “1, 2” or “100, 200,” the result will be the same: and let it also be laid down that, if they get equal marks on 2 papers, the final marks are to have the same ratio as those of the 3rd paper. This is a case of ordinary Double Rule of Three. We multiply A’s 3 marks together, and do the same for B. Note that, if A gets a single “0,” his final mark is “0,” even if he gets full marks for 2 papers while B gets only one mark for each paper. This of course would be very unfair on A, though a correct solution under the given conditions.

The result is to depend, as before, on relative knowledge; but French is to have twice as much weight as German or Italian. This is an unusual form of question. I should be inclined to say “the resulting ratio is to be nearer to the French ratio than if we multiplied as in (a), and so much nearer that it would be necessary to use the other multipliers twice to produce the same result as in (a):” e.g. if the French Ratio were ²⁄₁₀, and the others ²⁄₉, ¹⁄₉ so that the ultimate ratio, by method (a), would be ²⁄₄₅, I should multiply instead by ⅔, ⅓, giving the result, ⅓ which is nearer to ²⁄₁₀ than if he had used method (a).

The result is to depend on actual amount of knowledge of the 3 subjects collectively. Here we have to ask two questions. (1) What is to be the “unit” (i.e. “standard to measure by”) in each subject? (2) Are these units to be of equal, or unequal value? The usual “unit” is the knowledge shown by answering the whole paper correctly; calling this “100,” all lower amounts are represented by numbers between “0” and “100.” Then, if these units are to be of equal value, we simply add A’s 3 marks together, and do the same for B.

The conditions are the same as (c), but French is to have double weight. Here we simply double the French marks, and add as before.

French is to have such weight, that, if other marks be equal, the ultimate ratio is to be that of the French paper, so that a “0” in this would swamp the candidate: but the other two subjects are only to affect the result collectively, by the amount of knowledge shown, the two being reckoned of equal value. Here I should add A’s German and Italian marks together, and multiply by his French mark.

But I need not go on: the problem may evidently be set with many varying conditions, each requiring its own method of solution. The Problem in Knot VI was meant to belong to variety (a), and to make this clear, I inserted the following passage:

“Usually the competitors differ in one point only. Thus, last year, Fifi and Gogo made the same number of scarves in the trial week, and they were equally light; but Fifi’s were twice as warm as Gogo’s, and she was pronounced twice as good.”

What I have said will suffice, I hope, as an answer to Balbus, who holds that (a) and (c) are the only possible varieties of the problem, and that to say “We cannot use addition, therefore we must be intended to use multiplication,” is “no more illogical than, from knowledge that one was not born in the night, to infer that he was born in the daytime”; and also to Fifee, who says “I think a little more consideration will show you that our ‘error of adding the proportional numbers together for each candidate instead of multiplying’ is no error at all.” Why, even if addition had been the right method to use, not one of the writers (I speak from memory) showed any consciousness of the necessity of fixing a “unit” for each subject. “No error at all!” They were positively steeped in error!

One correspondent (I do not name him, as the communication is not quite friendly in tone) writes thus:⁠—“I wish to add, very respectfully, that I think it would be in better taste if you were to abstain from the very trenchant expressions which you are accustomed to indulge in when criticising the answer. That such a tone must not be” (“be not”?) “agreeable to the persons concerned who have made mistakes may possibly have no great weight with you, but I hope you will feel that it would be as well not to employ it, unless you are quite certain of being correct yourself.” The only instances the writer gives of the “trenchant expressions” are “hapless” and “malefactors.” I beg to assure him (and any others who may need the assurance: I trust there are none) that all such words have been used in jest, and with no idea that they could possibly annoy any one, and that I sincerely regret any annoyance I may have thus inadvertently given. May I hope that in future they will recognise the distinction between severe language used in sober earnest, and the “words of unmeant bitterness,” which Coleridge has alluded to in that lovely passage beginning “A little child, a limber elf”? If the writer will refer to that passage, or to the preface to “Fire, Famine, and Slaughter,” he will find the distinction, for which I plead, far better drawn out than I could hope to do