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CHAPTER 10 More on Angular Momentum and Torque
Answers to Understanding the Concepts Questions
1. The dimensions of angular momentum are those of mass times speed times distance; that is, [M(L/T) L]
= [M (L/T)2 T]. Because the factor M (L/T)2 is the dimension of energy [(mass)(speed)2], the dimensions of
angular momentum are indeed those of energy times time, one joule times second is indeed an SI unit for
angular momentum.
2. The magnitude of the angular momentum of the comet measured from the center of the Sun is L = pr,
where r is the shortest distance between the path of the comet and the center of the Sun. Since the comet
is headed toward the center of the Sun r = 0; so L = 0, regardless of the linear momentum p of the comet.
3. If a bicycle is stationary, it has no angular momentum, and a slight imbalance (when the center of mass
leaves the vertical line that passes through the contact points between the wheels and the ground) would
produce a net torque that causes the bicycle to rotate further to one side. If the bicycle is moving rapidly,
it has an angular momentum due to the rotation of the wheels, and the net torque mentioned above
would simply cause the direction of the angular momentum to change, and the bicycle would turn
instead of falling over. This is analogous to the case of a satellite. If it were to stop moving then Earth’s
gravitational pull would cause it to fall to the ground; but with sufficient orbital speed that same
gravitational force only makes its direction of motion change.
4. Because there is no strong source for a torque on the ball once it starts its flight, the spin maintains its
orientation and so does the ball. This suggests the major reasons for putting spin on the ball. First, the
effects of air resistance are more predictable if the ball maintains a fixed orientation. In addition, the
receiver can more reliably judge the flight of the ball with its fixed orientation, and it is easier to catch.
5. Crouching as low as possible helps lower the center of mass of the system (which consists of the bicycle
and the rider), and the lower the center of mass the more stable the system (against toppling over).
6. As the astronauts spin their arms, their bodies spin in an opposite direction in order to maintain their
total angular momentum at a constant value (typically zero in this case). When the arms stop spinning, so
do their bodies. The fact that after having rotated their bodies the astronauts have changed their
orientations in no way contradicts the principle of angular momentum conservation.
7. As a fan spins at a high speed it has a fairly large angular momentum, which points along its axis. If one
tries to move it one has to change this angular momentum, which could require a considerable torque.
8. A long and heavy bar has a relatively large rotational inertia. Holding the bar in hand substantially
increases the rotational inertia of the system (which consists of the bar and the tightrope walker), so in the
event of an unbalanced external torque the resulting angular acceleration of the system would be
relatively small, giving the tightrope walker enough time to make necessary adjustments to regain his or
her balance.
9. When you use the bent leg technique for lifting, there is little torque on any part of you. In contrast, a bent
back must counter the torque you experience from the weight of the lifted object, and it is the muscles of
the back and abdomen that must supply the countering torque. The result may be pulled back muscles, or
worse, damage to the spinal column.
10. For the sake of clarity, imagine yourself as the astronaut, holding the rotating axle in your hands, with the
axle spinning clockwisely.
r The angular momentum of the axle points horizontally away from you, in the
positive x-direction: L = L iˆ . If you suddenly point the axle upward its angular momentum changes
i
© 2005 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ. All rights reserved. This material is protected under all copyright laws as they currently
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Page 10-1
Fishbane, Gasiorowicz, and Thornton
r
direction, ras it rnow rpoints upward (z-direction): L f = L kˆ . The change in the angular momentum of the
axles is ∆ L = L – L = L( kˆ – iˆ ). Since you are in outer space there is no external force (or torque) on
f i
you, so the total angular momentum of the system (consisting of you and the axle) cannot change. To
compensate the change in angular momentum r of the axle, your body must start to rotate in such a sense
as to generate an angular momentum of – ∆ L , so as to maintain the total angular momentum of the
system. So your axis of spin is along the direction of the vector iˆ – kˆ , which is 45° down from the
horizontal.
11. Unless the diver is prepared to use countering revolutions with his or her body (analogous to the
technique used by the dropped cat and described in the text), an initial rotation is helpful. The diver will
strive to acquire this by using the contact force from the diving board to provide a torque on his or her
center of mass. Once there is an initial angular momentum, the diver can use the flexibility of his or her
body to change the rate of rotation.
12. As the ball pulls on the rope, the rope in turn pulls the central pole off center with a force tangential to the
radius of the pole.
13. Suppose that the ball is initially at rest and the cue strikes it horizontally from the left. The linear impulse
on the ball sets it move to the right after the collision. As far as the rotation of the ball is concerned, if the
point of impact is above the center of mass of the ball, then the angular impulse delivered by the cue is
clockwise, and the ball will start to rotate clockwisely after the impact. If the point of impact is below the
center of mass of the ball, then the angular impulse delivered by the cue is counterclockwise, causing the
ball to rotate counterclockwisely after the impact.
14. The hard boiled egg is a solid, and when it is set in rotation internal forces set all the parts in rotation as a
rigid body. The large angular momentum is maintained for a long time and the spin resembles that of a
top. If the egg has not been cooked, the interior is a liquid, and the shear forces that tend to put the entire
egg in rotation when the shell is spun are not entirely effective. The shell may initially spin while the
inside does not. The angular momentum is far smaller than it is if the egg is hard-cooked, and the spin
rapidly stops. This is a very amusing experiment to try.
15. No. Friction exerted by the ground on your feet provides the torque that keeps your body from spinning
in the opposite sense. In the absence of such friction, you would indeed start spinning.
16. Yes. Imagine a uniform bar lying horizontally on a table with the bar's orientation away from you. Then
imagine two blows that strike the bar simultaneously, one from the left on the part of the bar closest to
you and one from the right on the part of the bar farthest from you. If the blows have equal strength, the
net impulse is zero; the center of mass of the bar will not move. But the bar will certainly rotate as the
result of a nonzero angular impulse.
17. The magnitude of the angular momentum

r of a small object about a certain axis is L = rp, where
r p is the
magnitude of the linear momentum p of that object and r the distance between the vector p and the axis.
r
Since the comet moves toward the center of the Sun p passes through the axis in our case, i.e., r = 0; so
L = 0.
18. It depends on the type of maneuver being performed. Once airborne the angular momentum of the body
about its center of mass cannot change, since the only force that influences the center of mass motion is
the weight of the body and it has no lever arm with respect to the center of mass. So, if a particular
maneuver requires the body to spin about the center of mass, that would be possible only if the diver has
acquired some angular momentum before getting airborne (by pushing against the diving board, for
example).
19. We did indeed see that the conservation of the classical angular momentum when there is no net torque
is a consequence of Newton's laws, as is the conservation of linear momentum. When quantum physics is
involved, the conservation of angular momentum takes on a separate significance.
Page 10-2
Chapter 10: More on Angular Momentum and Torque
20. Have the person hold the meter stick horizontally while sitting on the stool. Put the two masses at the
center of the meter stick, which coincide with the axis of rotation of the stool. Set the stool into rotation,
and use the stopwatch to measure T i , the time for one revolution. With the stool still rotating, have the
person push the two masses to either end of the meter stick. Measure the time Tf for one revolution. Note
that the angular momentum of the system consisting of the person (1), the stool (2), and the two masses
(3) is essentially conserved. Before the two masses are pushed to the ends of the meter stick L i ≈ (I1 + I2)ωi,
and afterwards Lf ≈ (I1 + I2 + m3 d2)ωf , with d the distance between the center of the meter stick and the end
(d ≈ 0.5 m). From Li = Lf we get (I1 + I2)ωi ≈ (I1 + I2 + m3 d2)ωf , or (I1 + I2)/(I1 + I2 + m3 d2) ≈ ωf /ωi = Tf/Ti .
Given I2, m3, d, Tf and Ti , we can then solve for I1.
21. The angular momentum associated with the propeller spin is, by application of a right-hand rule, directly
away from the pilot. (We reference vector quantities from an origin at the center of the airplane, at the
location of the pilot.) In turning to the right, the spin angular momentum is also rotating in that direction;
that is, there is a change of angular momentum
r to the rright. To effectuate this change, there must be a
r r
torque to the right, and hence a force F such that r × F is to the right. Since r points forward, the force
on the nose, where the propeller is located, must be up. Thus the pilot must arrange his ailerons and
rudder to introduce a force that will push the nose up, and this will aid the turn.
22. Braking with the rear wheel is a safer choice. If the rider brakes hard with the front wheel from a high
speed, the entire bicycle could rotate forward about the contact point between the front wheel and the
ground, throwing the rider forward and out of the seat. This could be disastrous.
23. The vertical angular momentum of the system is still conserved. As the student turns the wheel the
angular momentum of the wheel is changed, and that must be compensated by the corresponding change
in the angular momentum of the student, who must then starts turning, as in the example in the text. The
student can only turn half as fast as the previous case, however, as the vertical angular momentum of the
wheel has only changed half as much.
24. If we think of the woman and platform as a single isolated system, there are no external forces, so asking
for the source of the torque is a bit of a red herring. The system of woman plus platform is one in which
the angular momentum is constant. As the woman moves to the center, the rotational inertia of the
system decreases, so the platform plus woman must speed up their joint rotation. On the other hand we
may think of the platform alone and the woman alone. The only force acting between these two separate
systems is the friction at the shoes. If the woman stays at a given radius, then friction from the platform
acts centripetally to keep the woman moving in uniform circular motion; by Newton's third law, friction
from the woman acts radially outward on the platform and this supplies no torque. However, if the
woman moves to the inside of the platform, then her velocity would tend to decrease if the motion
continued with the same period, meaning that friction from the platform acts tangentially to slow her
down; again by Newton's third law, friction must then act tangentially on the platform, and in a direction
that speeds it up. The result is the same as in the description of the woman and platform as a single
system.
25. The arrival of the boy increases the rotational inertia of the platform somewhat (as his mass cannot be
entirely on the axis of rotation), and if we neglect the effect of friction of the axle then the angular
momentum of the boy-platform system is essentially conserved, i.e., L = Iω = constant. As I increases ω
will decrease. However, if the platform is large and massive compared with the size and mass of the boy,
then the increase in I would be minimal and ω should not decrease appreciably.
26. We refer to the figure, and think of the origin for the calculation of torques as placed at the center of the
flywheel. (a) Without the flywheel, a wave approaching from the side of the boat would lift the side of the
boat, so that there is a force that points upward acting at the side of the boat. With the flywheel we want
r r r
to find the corresponding torque and see how it changes an existing ω. The torque is r × F , which for rr
pointing from the flywheel
r r the side of the boat is oriented to the front of the boat. A vector ∆ ω
center to
added to the existing ω reorients ω towards the bow direction, and the boat rotates about a vertical axis
to the right with respect to the bow rather than tilting along the long axis of the boat. (b) If a force acts
upward at the bow,
r then r runs from the flywheel to the bow, and the torque acts in a direction opposite
to the existing ω ; this has no effect on the motion of the boat.
Page 10-3
27. Since the angular momentum is not acquired by the second cylinder, it must be absorbed by Earth.
28. Putting it into a spinning motion provides a prop with some angular momentum (about its center of
mass), which basically cannot change once it is airborne (as the only significant external force exerted on
it is its weight, which acts through its center of mass and provides no torque about the center of mass.)
This helps stabilize its motion.
29. The friction that acts on the ball has two effects: it introduces a torque on the ball and it acts on its center
of mass to accelerate the ball. The force is horizontal. We can see whether it is forward or backward by
looking at the direction of spin and deducing the effect of the torque. If the spin is forward, then friction
must act in the backward direction, and this is sensible. Such a force will accelerate the center of mass in
such a way that the horizontal component of the ball's velocity decreases. Let's now assume that the
vertical forces acting when the ball hits the floor are elastic, so that the vertical component of the ball
reverses but suffers no change in magnitude. The angle the ball's path makes with the horizontal has a
tangent that is the ratio of the vertical to the horizontal component of the velocity. If the horizontal
component has decreased in magnitude but the vertical
component has not, then the angle win be increased on the bounce.
30. Express the rotational kinetic energy K in terms of the spin angular momentum L: K = !Ιω2 = (Ιω)2/2I =
L2/2I. In the process described L = constant while I increases. As a result K = L2/2I decreases.
Page 10-4
Solutions to Problems
1. (a) From the right-hand rule, the direction of the angular momentum will be down. The magnitude
is L = pd, where d is the perpendicular distance from the axis to the line of the linear momentum p.
Thus
L = pd
= (2 × 103 kg)(200 km/h)(100 km)(103 m/km)2/(3600 s/h)
= 1.1 × 1010 kg · m2/s down.
(b) A northeasterly direction is at an angle of 45° with the position line, so
L = (1.1 × 1010 kg · m2/s) sin 45° = 7.9 × 109 kg · m2/s down.
2. The angular
r r momentum is
r r r
L = r × p = m( r × v )
= (0.270 kg)[(0.1 iˆ – 0.5 ˆj + 0.2 kˆ ) m × (12 iˆ – 7 ˆj – 3 kˆ ) m/s]
= (0.270 kg)(2.9 iˆ + 2.7 ˆj + 5.3 kˆ ) m2/s
= (0.78î + 0.73 ˆj + 1.4 kˆ ) kg ⋅ m /s .
2
3. We assume that the car is traveling east and passing on the north side of you, so the direction of the
angular momentum will be down.
(a) The magnitude is L = pd, where d is the perpendicular distance from the axis to the line of the
linear momentum p. Thus
L = pd = (1000 kg)(10 m/s)(5 m) = 5 × 104 kg · m2/s down.
(b) Because the perpendicular distance has not changed, the angular momentum is still
L = 5 × 104 kg · m2/s down.
4. The speed of the orbiting object is given by v = 2πr/T.

(a) L = pd = m(2πr/T)r = 2πmr2/T
= 2π(6.0 × 1024 kg)(1.5 × 1011 m)2/[(1 yr)(365 d/yr)(24 h/d)(3600 s/h)] = 2.7 × 1040 kg · m2/s.
(b) L = 2π(7.35 × 1022 kg)(3.84 × 108 m)2/(27 d)(24 h/d)(3600 s/h)] = 2.9 × 1034 kg · m2/s.
(c) We treat the earth as a rigid sphere, with angular momentum
L = Iω = ^MR2ω
= ^(6.0 × 1024 kg)(6.4 × 106 m)2[2π/(1 d)(24 h/d)(3600 s/h)]
= 7.1 × 1033 kg · m2/s.
5. We take the direction of the angular momentum to be north along the axis. The angular momentum of
rotation about the axis is
L = Iω = mR2ω
= (1.8 kg)(0.18 m)2(4.2 rev/s)(2π rad/rev) = 1.5 kg · m2/s north.
6. Because the particle is traveling in a straight line, y = ax + b, y

its angular momentum about the origin will be constant. From the r
v
y = ax + b
diagram the right-hand rule gives its direction as into the page, or – kˆ .
We find the angle θ from tan θ = dy/dx = a, so cos θ = 1/(1 + a2)1/2. The θ
b
magnitude of the angular momentum is θ
L = pd = mvb cos θ = mbv[1/(1 + a2)1/2]. Thus
r r d x
2
L = −[mbv/ 1 + a ] k .
Page 10-5
7. For the projectile motion using the coordinate system shown, we find the position and velocity
components:
x = v0xt = vxt; y
y = v0yt – !gt = 0 – !gt ;
2 2
vx = constant; r
v0
vy = v0y – gt = 0 – gt. x
When we express these as vectors, we have
r r r
r = vxt iˆ – (!gt2) ˆj ; p = mv = mvx iˆ – mgt ˆj .
The angular
r r momentum is
r
L = r × p = (vxt iˆ – !gt2 ˆj ) × (mvx iˆ – mgt ˆj ) = – (!mgvxt2) kˆ
= – !(0.060 kg)(9.8 m/s2)(25 m/s)t2 kˆ
= −(7.4t kˆ ) kg ⋅m /s into the page .
2 2
8. The speed of the axle, the center of mass, is v = Rω. The total angular momentum about a point on the
road is the angular momentum of the center of mass and the angular momentum of rotation about the
center of mass:
L = mvR + Iω = mR2ω + Iω = (mR2 + I)ω
= [(1.5 kg)(0.38 m)2 + (0.28 kg · m2)](2.5 rad/s) = 1.2 kg · m2/s along axle.
9. From the position, rˆ = !at2 iˆ + vt ˆj + (!bt2 – wt) kˆ , we find the velocity:

r r
v = dr /dt = at iˆ + v ˆj + (bt – w) kˆ .
The angular
r r rmomentum is
L = r × p = m[!at2 iˆ + vt ˆj + (!bt2 – wt) kˆ ] × [at iˆ + v ˆj + (bt – w) kˆ ].
When we expand the cross product and simplify, we get
r 1
L = (mbvt î − mawt ˆj − mavt kˆ ) .
2 2 2
2
r
10. From the position r = (x0 + ρ cos ωt) iˆ + (y0 + ρ sin ωt) ˆj , we find the velocity:
r r
v = dr /dt = (– ρω sin ωt) iˆ + (ρω cos ωt) ˆj .
The angular
r r rmomentum is
r r
L = r × p = r × mv = m[(x0 + ρ cos ωt) iˆ + (y0 + ρ sin ωt) ˆj ] × [(– ρω sin ωt) iˆ + (ρω cos ωt) ˆj ].
This rreduces to
L = m[(x0 + ρ cos ωt)(ρω cos ωt) + (y0 + ρ sin ωt)(ρω sin ωt)] kˆ
= m[ρω (x cos ωt + y sin ωt) + ρ ω ] kˆ .
2
0 0
r r r r
11. The location of the center of mass is defined by R = (m1 r1 + m2 r2 )/(m1 + m2). If R = 0, we have
r r
r1 = – (m2/m1) r2 .
r r r
If we let r = r2 – r1 , we get
r r r r r
r2 – r = – (m2/m1) r2 , which reduces to r2 = m1 r /(m1 + m2).
For the
r momenta,r we have
r r r r
p 1 = m1 v 1 = m1 dr1 /dt and p 2 = m2 v 2 = m2 dr2 /dt .
r r r r r
That the center of mass is at rest means that P = p 1 + p 2 = 0, or p 1 = – p 2.
Usingrthis result, the total angular momentum of the system is
r r r r r r r
L = ( r1 × p1 ) + ( r2 × p2 ) = ( r2 − r1 ) × p 2, which we can write as
r r r r r r r r
L = ( r2 − r1 ) × ( m2 v 2 ) = ( r2 − r1 ) × (m2 dr2 /dt ). In terms of r , this becomes
r r r r r r
L = r × [m2 m1 /(m1 + m2 )] dr /dt = r × µ dr /dt .
r
This is the angular momentum of a particle of mass µ at a position r .
Page 10-6
12. (a) We use the parallel-axis theorem:

I = ICM + Md2 = 9.8 × 1037 kg·m2 + (6.0 × 1024 kg)(1.5 × 1011m)2
= 1.4 × 1047 kg · m2 .
(b) The angular momentum is from the orbital motion, as a point mass, and the rotation of the earth:
L = Md2ωSun + ICMωEarth
= (1.4 × 1047 kg · m2)2π/[(365 d/yr)(24 h/d)(3600 s/h)] +
(9.8 × 1037 kg · m2)2π/[(24 h/d)(3600 s/h)]
= 2.7 × 10 kg · m /s.
40 2
(c) fractional difference = [(Md2ωSun + ICMωEarth) – Md2ωSun]/(Md2ωSun + ICMωEarth)

≈ ICMωEarth/Md2ωSun = ICMTsun/Md2TEarth
= (9.8 × 1037 kg · m2)(365 d)/[(1.4 × 1047 kg · m2)(1 d)]
= 2.6 × 10–7 .
The angular speed of rotation of Earth is 365 times larger than that of its rotation of about the Sun,
but the Sun-Earth distance is ˛ 105 greater than Earth’s radius. Because the rotational inertia
depends on the square of the distance, the fractional difference is very small.
13. (a) Because each mass is the same distance from the axis, the rotational inertia of the system is
I = 4m(!L√2)2 = 2mL2 = 2(0.1 kg)(0.20 m)2 = 8.0 × 10–3 kg · m2 .
The rangular momentum of the system is
r
L = I ω = (8.0 × 10–3 kg · m2)(8 rad/s) kˆ
−2 r z
= (6.4 × 10 kg ⋅ m /s) kˆ along ω - direction .
2
ω
(b) With the coordinate system shown on the diagram, for
the mass along the x-axis, we have L y
r r r r
r1 = !L√2 i , and v 1 = ω × r1 = (ω k ) × (!L√2 i ) = !ωL√2 j .
ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ
L r
The rangular momentum of this mass is r1 r
r r v1
L = r × mv = (!L√2)m(!ωL√2)( i × j ) = !mL ω k
1 1 1
ˆ ˆ 2 ˆ
= !(0.1 kg)(0.20 m)2(8 rad/s) kˆ x

−2
= (1.6 × 10 kg ⋅m )kˆ .
2
From the symmetry of the system, each of the other masses

will have the same angular momentum, so the total is
r r −2
L = 4 L = (6.4 × 10 kg ⋅ m ) kˆ , the same as in part (a).
2
1
14. For a point a distance D below the origin, we have

r z
r1 = !L√2 iˆ + D kˆ , and
r r r ω
v = ω × r = (ω kˆ ) × (!L√2 iˆ +D kˆ ) = !ωL√2 ˆj .
1 1 L y
The angular
r momentum of this mass is
r r L
L = r × mv = (!L√2 iˆ + D kˆ ) × m(!ωL√2 ˆj )
1 1 1
r
1 2 1 v1
= mL ωkˆ − Dmω Liˆ .
2 2 D
Note that the x-component points toward the axis. r
r1 x
From the symmetry of the system, each of the other masses
will have a similar angular momentum with the same z-component.
The other component will have the same magnitude but point
toward the axis. When we add the vectors the x- or y-components
will cancel, so the total angular momentum is
r −2
L = 4L kˆ = 4(!mL2ω kˆ ) = (6.4 × 10 kg ⋅ m ) kˆ ,
2
1z
which is the same as in Problem 13.
Page 10-7
15. In each case we have L = Iω, so we find the rotational inertia.

(a) All masses are equidistant from the axis, so we have (c)
I = 3m[d/(2 cos 30°)]2 = md2.
L = mωd2 along the axis of rotation.
(b) Only one mass contributes to the rotational inertia, so we have d
I = m(d cos 30°)2 = &md2.
L = )mωd2 along the axis of rotation.
(c) Two masses contribute to the rotational inertia, so we have (b)
I = 2m(!d)2 = !md2
L = !mωd2 along the axis of rotation. (a)
r r r
16. τ = r×F y
= (3.4 m) iˆ × [– (72 kg)(9.8 m/s2)] ˆj = – (2.4 × 103 N · m) kˆ .
r
τ = 2.4 × 103 N · m. r
x
r
F
r r r
17. τ = r×F
= (3 iˆ – ˆj – 5 kˆ ) m × (2 iˆ + 4 ˆj + 3 kˆ ) N = (17 î − 19 ˆj + 14kˆ ) N ⋅m .
18. With the coordinate system shown , we find the torque from
r r r y
τ = r×F
= (L cos θ iˆ + L sin θ ˆj ) × (– Mg ˆj ) L
= – MgL cos θ kˆ θ
x
= – (18 kg)(9.8 m/s2)(2.2 m)(cos 20°) kˆ r
Mg
= −(3.6 × 10 N ⋅ m)kˆ (into page) .
3
19. With the coordinate system shown on the diagram, we find

the torque from y
r r r
τ = r×F r
F
= L iˆ × (F cos θ iˆ + F sin θ ˆj )
L θ
= LF sin θ kˆ x
= (1.0 m)(200 N) cos 45° kˆ
= (140 N ⋅m) kˆ (perpendicular to table) .
20. For the rresultant

r force,
r we have
∑ F = F + (– F ) = 0. r
For the resultant
F
r r r torque,
r rwe have
r r r
τ = r1 × F + r2 × (– F ) = ( r1 – r2 ) × F . r
r1
From rthe diagram,
r r we see
r that
r r P
r2 + r = r1 , or r1 – r2 = r . r
r
Thus the torque
r r r
is r
r2
τ = r × F , independent of the location of the point P.
r
−F
Page 10-8
21. The location of the mass is given by θ = ωt.

The torque is along the axle, into the page. Its magnitude is t=0
τ = (R sin θ)Mg = MgR sin(ωt).
θ
R r
Mg
r r
22. τ = rˆ × mg
= {(v cos θ) t iˆ + [(v sin θ) t – !gt2] ˆj } × (– mg ˆj ) = − (mgvt cos θ ) kˆ .
This is just mg times the perpendicular distance x to the line of mg.
23. The perpendicular distance from the axis A to the initial path of
the ball is
A d
ri = d sin[2(π/2 – θ)] = d sin(π – 2θ) = d sin(2θ).
The initial angular momentum is
Li = rimv = mvd sin(2θ) up.
Because the final velocity passes through the axis, we have θ
Lf = 0. m
The wall exerts an impulsive force on the ball and thus an
impulsive torque that changes the angular momentum.
r r
24. At a steady speed, d L /dt = 0, so we have τ net = 0. Both torques are along the axle, r2
with that due to F out and that due to mg in, which we take as positive. Thus we r1
have
τnet = 0;
mgr1 – Fr2 = 0, which gives F
F = mg(r1/r2)
= (200 kg)(9.8 m/s2)(10 cm)/(50 cm) = 3.9 × 102 N.
mg
r r
25. A × B = (2 iˆ – 4 ˆj + 5 kˆ ) × ( iˆ + 3 ˆj – 2 kˆ )
= [(– 4)(– 2) – (3)(5)] iˆ + [(5)(1) – (2)(– 2)] ˆj + [(2)(3) – (– 4)(1)] kˆ = −7iˆ + 9 ˆj + 10kˆ .
r r
26. | A × B | = AB sin θ.
From the diagram we see that B sin θ is the height of the parallelogram. The area
of the parallelogram is r r r
area = (base)(height) = (A)(B sin θ) = | A × B |. B
θ r
A
27. Before the children land on the merry-go-round, they have zero angular momentum about the axis. From
the conservation of angular momentum of the system of merry-go-round and children, we have
L = I1ω1 = I2ω2;
(120 kg · m2)(2.5 rad/s) = [(120 kg · m2) + 2(25 kg)(1.7 m)2]ω2 , which gives
ω2 = 1.1 rad/s.
Page 10-9
28. The person, before landing, has zero angular momentum about the axis. From the conservation of
angular momentum of the system of disk and person, we have
L = I1ω1 = I2ω2;
!(38 kg)(1.7 m)2(0.075 rad/s) = [!(38 kg)(1.7 m)2 + (71 kg)(0.9 m)2]ω2 , which gives
ω2 = 0.037 rad/s.
29. If r⊥ is the perpendicular distance from the parked car to the path of the fire truck, the magnitude of the
angular momentum is
L = r⊥mv.
Because r⊥ does not change, we have
L10/L0 = r⊥mv10/r⊥mv0 = v10/v0 = 2, so v10 = 2(15 m/s) = 30 m/s.
30. The angular momentum of the skater is conserved:

L = I1ω1 = I2ω2; (Iskater + 2mr12)ω1 = (Iskater + 2mr22)ω2 ;
[2.3 kg · m2 + 2(3kg)(0.8 m)2](0.7 rev/s) = [2.3 kg · m2 + 2(3 kg)(0.4 m)2]ω2 , which gives
ω2 = 1.3 rev/s.
31. We choose counterclockwise for the positive rotation . Using the speeds with respect to the ground, from
the conservation of angular momentum of the system of turntable and bug, we have
L = 0 = Iturntableωturntable + Ibugωbug = !mturntableR2ωturntable + mbugR2ωbug ; which gives
ωturntable = – (2mbug/mturntable)ωbug .
Because the angular velocities are constant, the angular displacements, θ = ωt, are related by
θturntable = – (2mbug/mturntable)θbug .
When the bug makes one full circle with respect to the turntable, we have
θturntable – θbug = 2π;
θturntable – [– (mturntable/2mbug)θturntable] = 2π, which gives
θturntable = 4πmbug/(mturntable + 2mbug)
= 4π(0.002 kg)/[(0.24 kg) + 2(0.002 kg)] = 0.103 rad (0.016 rev).
32. We use energy conservation to find the speed of the point mass
before it strikes the bar:
v1 =(2gh)1/2=[2(9.8m/s2)(1.1m)]1/2 = 4.64 m/s.
From the conservation of angular momentum of the system of mass
and bar about the pivot point A during the collision, we have
LA = mv1(!L) = [(1/12)ML2 + m(!L)2]ω; h r
v1 A
(0.017 kg)(4.64 m/s)(0.10 m) = [(1/12)(0.2 kg)(0.2 m)2 + L
(0.017 kg)(0.1 m)2]ω, which gives
ω = 9.4 rad/s.
33. Label the clay 1 and the wheel 2. The initial speed of the clay just before hitting the wheel is
v1 = (2gh)1/2 = [2(9.8 m/s2)(0.75 m)]1/2 = 3.834 m/s.
Relative to the center of the wheel the angular momentum of the clay-wheel system just before their
collision is
Li = m1 v1 R, with R the radius of the wheel.
After the collision the rotational inertia of the system is If = m1 R2 + !m2 R2, and so the angular speed
ω of the system is obtained from conservation of angular momentum:
Li = m1 v1 R = Lf = If ω = (m1 R2 + !m2 R2)ω, or
ω = m1 v1/[(m1 + !m2)R]
= (0.100 kg)(3.834 m/s)/[(0.100 kg + 10 kg/2)(0.50 m)]
= 0.15 rad/s .
Page 10-10
34. For the circular motion we can write

ω = ω0 + αt;
6 rad/s = 4.5 rad/s + (0.3 rad/s2)t, which gives
t = 5.0 s.
The work done by the torque increases the kinetic energy of the flywheel:
W = ∆K = !I(ω2 – ω02) = !MR2(ω2 – ω02)
= !(680 kg)(1.2 m)2[(6 rad/s)2 – (4.5 rad/s)2]
= 7.7 × 103 J.
35. From P = τω we have

τ = P/ω = (240 hp)(746 W/hp)/[(3200 rev/min)(2π rad/rev)/(60 s/min)]
= 5.3 × 102 N · m along the axis.
36. We choose the reference level for gravitational potential energy at

the initial position. The kinetic energy will be the translational
energy of the center of mass and the rotational energy about the
center of mass. Because there is no work done by friction while
the cylinder is rolling, for the work-energy theorem we have
Wnet = ∆K + ∆U; y=0 ¬
R
0 = (!Mv2 + !Iω2 – 0) + Mg(0 – l sin θ).
Because the cylinder is rolling, v = Rω. The rotational inertia is !MR2.
Thus we get
!Mv2 + !(!MR2)(v2/R2) = Mgl sinθ, which gives θ
v =(4gl sin θ/3)1/2, and ω = (4gl sin θ/3)1/2/R.
We obtain the same result as in Section 9–7, but more directly.
37. The work decreases the kinetic energy of the flywheel:

W = ∆K = !I(ωf2 – ωi2)
– 1200 J = !(0.033 kg · m2)[ωf2 – (490 rad/s)2], which gives
ωf = 409 rad/s.
r
38. The component of the pulling force F that is parallel to the direction of motion of the roller is F cos θ,
where F = 55 N and θ = 45°. The work done by that force after it pulls the roller through a distance d is W
= Fd cos θ, which result in a change in the kinetic energy of the roller:
W = Fd cos θ = ∆K = !MVcm2 + !Iω2.
But for pure rolling ω = Vcm/R, and for a solid cylinder I = !MR2; so
Iω2 = !MR2(Vcm/R)2 = !MVcm2, whereupon
∆K = &MVcm2. Equate this with W to obtain
Vcm = ()Fd cos θ /M)1/2
= [)(55 N)(2 m)(cos 30°)/(150 kg)] 1/2 = 0.92 m/s .
39. From the result of Problem 36, we have

Krot = !Iω2 = !(!MR2)()gl sin θ / R2) = @Mgl sin θ
= @(0.2 kg)(9.8 m/s2)(0.80 m) sin 15° = 0.14 J.
40. (a) I = !MR2 = !ρVR2

= !(8 g/cm3)π(120 cm)2(45 cm)(1.2 m)2(10–3 kg/g)
= 1.2 × 104 kg · m2 .
(b) The work done by the flywheel comes from the decrease of its kinetic energy:
W = – ∆K = – (0 – !Iω02)
= !(1.17 × 104 kg · m2)[(260 rev/min)(2π rad/rev)/(60 s/min)]2
= 4.3 × 106 J.
Page 10-11
41. For Newton’s second law, both force and acceleration are central, so we have
F = – kr = – mv2/r, which gives v = k/m r.
The Bohr quantization condition is
L = mvr = n˙, n = 1, 2, … .
We combine these to get mvr = m k/m r2 = n˙, which gives
rn = (n2˙2/mk)1/4, n = 1, 2, … .
For v we get vn = (n2˙2k/m3)1/4, n = 1, 2, … .
From this we can get the kinetic energy:
K = !mv2 = !m(n2˙2k/m3)1/2; Kn = k/m n˙/2, n = 1, 2, … .
42. For the potential energy U(r) = Cr, we find the force:
F = – dU/dr = – C. For Newton’s second law, both force and acceleration are central, so we have
F = – C = – mv2/r, which gives v = Cr/m .
The Bohr quantization condition is
L = mvr = n˙, n = 1, 2, … .
3
We combine these to get mvr = m Cr/m r = Cr /m = n˙, which gives rn = (n2˙2/Cm)1/3, n = 1, 2, … .
For v we get vn = (n˙C/m2)1/3, n = 1, 2, … . From this we can get the kinetic energy:
K = !mv2 = !m(n˙C/m2)2/3; Kn = !(n2˙2C2/m)1/3, n = 1, 2, … .
43. The permissible energies of the hydrogen atom are

En = – (13.6 eV)/n2; E1 = – 13.6 eV, E2 = – 3.4 eV, E3 = – 1.5 eV, E4 = – 0.85 eV, etc.
There is no energy level 2.0 eV above the lowest state, i. e., at – 11.6 eV.
Possible excitation energies are En – E1 = [13.6 – (13.6/n2)] eV, n = 2, 3, ….
From the above values, possible excitation energies are 10.2 eV, 12.1 eV, 12.75 eV, … .
44. (a) The angular momentum of a uniform sphere is

L = Iω = ^ (mr2ω), which gives
ω = (L/mr2 = ((0.5 × 10–34 kg · m2/s)/(1.67 × 10–27 kg)(1.3 × 10–15 m)2 = 4.4 × 1022 rad/s.
The frequency of the rotation is
f = ω/2π = (4.4 × 1022 rad/s)/2π = 7.0 × 1021 Hz.
(b) The speed of the circular motion of the outermost portion is
v = rω = (1.3 × 10–15 m)(4.4 × 1022 rad/s) = 5.7 × 107 m/s, which is 0.19c.
(c) The kinetic energy of rotation is
K = !Iω2 = !L2/I = !(0.5 × 10–34 kg · m2/s)2/[^(1.67 × 10–27 kg)(1.3 × 10–15 m)2] = 1.1 × 10–12 J.
45. We choose the coordinate system shown, so the initial angular momentum
of the top lies in the xz-plane and makes an angle φ with the z-axis:
r r r
L = I ω = Iω sin φ iˆ + Iω cos φ kˆ . r ωp
With ¬ the distance of the center of mass along the symmetry axis from L
r z
the tip, the torque comes from the weight: τ = Mgl sin φ ˆj . r
When we ω
r use
r
Newton’s second law for a time ∆t, we get
∆ L = τ ∆t = Mgl ∆t sin φ ˆj , which gives a new angular momentum:
r φ
L = Iω sin φ iˆ + Mgl ∆t sin φ ˆj + Iω cos φ kˆ .
The z-component has not changed, while the component in the xy-plane r
has turned away from the x-axis through an angle: Mg y
∆θ = (Mgl ∆t sin φ)/(Iω sin φ) = Mgl ∆t/Iω.
x
As the top precesses,
r the torque continues to be perpendicular to the plane
formed by L and the z-axis. Thus, the z-component will continue to be constant and the rate of
precession is
ωp = ∆θ/∆t = Mgl /Iω along the z-axis.
Page 10-12
46. With the initial angular momentum up, she wants to tilt the axle and thus the angular momentum away
from her. Because ∆L = τ ∆t, initially the torque must be radially out. As she continues the motion, the
torque will have to be perpendicular to the axle in the vertical plane.
During the reversal of the direction, the angular momentum of the system of student, stool, and wheel is
conserved:
r
L = Iω kˆ = I*ω* kˆ – Iω kˆ , which gives
ω* = 2Iω/I*.
r1 r2
47. We find the center of mass relative to the pivot:
m2
RCM = (m1r1 +m2r2)/(m1 + m2)
m1
= [(0.8 kg)(– 0.16 m) + (1 kg)(0.10 m)]/(0.8 kg + 1 kg)
= – 0.016 m.
The rotational inertia of the mass about the spin axis is zero. R
We can treat this as a top, with a precessional rate of
ωp = MgRCM/Iω
= MgRCM/m2R2ω Rotation
= (1.8 kg)(9.8 m/s2)(0.016 m)/(1 kg)(0.10 m)2(10 rad/s)
= 2.8 rad/s.
48. For the projectile motion, we find the position and velocity
components: y
x = v0xt = v0t; y = y0 + v0yt – !gt2 = h + 0 – !gt2;
vx = constant = v0; vy = v0y – gt = 0 – gt. r
v0
When we express these as vectors, we have
r r r
r = v0t iˆ + (h – !gt2) ˆj ; p = mv = mv0 iˆ – mgt ˆj .
The angular h
r r momentum
r
is
L = r × p = [v0t iˆ +(h – !gt2) ˆj ] × (mv0 iˆ – mgt ˆj )
= – mgv t2 kˆ – mv (h – !gt2) kˆ = – mv (h + !gt2) kˆ
0 0 0
x
= – (0.110 kg)(4.5 m/s)[6.0 m + !(9.8 m/s2)t2] kˆ

= −[3.0 kg ⋅ m /s + (2.4 kg ⋅m /s )t ] kˆ (in to the page) .
2 2 3 2
49. We choose the reference level for gravitational potential energy at the
initial position. The kinetic energy will be the translational energy of the
center of mass and the rotational energy about the center of mass. Because
there is no work done by friction while the cylinder is rolling, for the work- l
energy theorem we have y=0
R
Wnet = ∆K + ∆U;
0 = (!Mv2 + !Iω2 – 0) + Mg(0 – l sin θ).
θ
Because the cylinder is rolling, v = Rω.
The rotational inertia is !MR2. Thus we get
!M(Rω)2 + !(!MR2)ω2 = Mgl sin θ, which we write as
ω2 = )gl (sin θ)/R2
= )(9.8 m/s2)(1.5 m)(sin 28°)/(0.042 m)2, which gives
ω = 72 rad/s.
Page 10-13
50. We find an expression for the speed of the block after it travels
a distance d down the plane, starting from rest:
v2 = v02 + 2ax = 0 + 2ad = 2(0.1 m/s2)d = (0.2 m/s2)d. r
r
Because the speed of the thread is the tangential speed of the axle, R T
for the angular speed of the cylinder we have ω = v/r, or r d
ω2 = v2/r2 = (0.2 m/s2)d/(0.005 m)2 = (8.0 × 103 rad2/m · s2)d. y=0 FN
The rotational inertia of the cylinder is r
I = !MR2 = !(0.5 kg)(0.04 m)2 = 4.0 × 10–4 kg · m2. f
r
We choose the reference level for gravitational potential energy mg θ
at the initial position of the mass.
For the work-energy theorem applied to the system of cylinder and
mass, we have
W = ∆K + ∆U;
– µkmg cos θ d = (!mv2 + !Iω2 – 0) + mg(0 – d sin θ);
– µk(1 kg)(9.8 m/s2) cos 30° d =
!(1 kg)(0.2 m/s2)d + !(4.0 × 10–4 kg · m2)(8.0 × 103 rad2/m · s2)d – (1 kg)(9.8 m/s2) sin 30° d.
Note that the distance d cancels out, so we get µk = 0.38.
51. We treat the child as a point mass moving on a radial line of the platform. For the system of child and
platform, angular momentum is conserved:
L = Iplatformω0 = (Iplatform + mchildR2)ω1;
(450 kg · m2)(0.8 rad/s) = [450 kg · m2 + (32 kg)(2 m)2]ω1 , which gives
ω1 = 0.62 rad/s.
The change in energy is
∆K = !(Iplatform + mchildR2)ω12 – !Iplatformω02
= ![450 kg · m2 + (32 kg)(2 m)2](0.62 rad/s)2 – !(450 kg · m2)(0.8 rad/s)2
= – 33 J.
The work was done by the force of friction between the child and the platform, which is necessary to
enable the child to walk.
52. Due to the absence of the net external force both the linear and angular momenta of the system, which
consists of the board (1) and the mass (2), are conserved. After the collision the board (with the mass
attached) will move forward and rotate at the same time.
The initial linear momentum of the system before the collision is pi = m1v1i, and afterwards pf = (m1 +
m2)vcm , so from pi = pf we know that, after the collision, the center of mass of the system moves at a speed
of
vcm = m2v2i/(m1 + m2) = (30 kg) v1i/(20 kg + 30 kg) = 0.60 v1i ,
in the same direction as the initial velocity of the mass.
The system also spins about its center of mass. The rate of spin can be found from conservation of angular
momentum. To find the exact value we need to know the direction of motion of the mass before the
collision relative to the orientation of the board.
53. Assuming that the ball hits the door perpendicularly, then the magnitude of the change in momentum for
the ball as a result of the collision is
∆p = m(vi + vf ) = (0.035 kg)(45 m/s + 35 m/s) = 2.8 kg ·m/s.
The corresponding angular impulse delivered by the ball to the door is l∆p, with l = 0.85 m. Set
l∆p = ∆L = Iω = (@Ml2)ω to obtain
ω = 3∆p /Ml = 3(2.8 kg ·m/s)/[(3.0 kg)(0.85 m)]
= 3.3 rad/s.
Page 10-14
54. The bullet passes through the wheel so quickly that it leaves
before the wheel turns. For this collision, angular momentum
of the bullet-wheel system is conserved:
L = mvid = mvfd + Iω, which we write as
!MR2ω = ma(vi – vf);
d
!(3.0 kg)(0.18 m)2ω = (1.5 × 10–2 kg)(0.14 m)(350 m/s – 270 m/s),
which gives
ω = 3.4 rad/s (clockwise). r
The angular momentum of the wheel is
L = !MR2ω = !(2.0 kg)(0.18 m)2(3.4 rad/s)
= 0.17 kg · m2/s (clockwise).
The kinetic energy of the wheel is
K = !Iω2 = ![!(2.0 kg)(0.18 m)2](3.4 rad/s)2 = 0.28 J.
The change in the kinetic energy of the bullet is
∆Kbullet = !mvf2 – !mv02 = !(1.5 × 10–2 kg)[(270 m/s)2 – (350 m/s)2]
= – 3.7 × 102 J.
The total kinetic energy is not conserved. Negative work is done by the drag forces as the bullet passes
through the wheel.
55. (a) For the system of the two blocks and pulley, no work will be
done by nonconservative forces. The rope ensures that each
block has the same speed v and the angular speed of the
pulley is ω = v/R. We choose the reference level for R
M
gravitational potential energy at the floor.
The rotational inertia of the pulley is
I = !MR2 = !(2 kg)(0.1 m)2 = 0.01 kg · m2.
For the work-energy theorem we have m1
Wnet = ∆K + ∆U;
0 = (!m1v2 + !m2v2 + !Iω2 – 0) + m1g(0 – h) + m2g(h – 0);
!(4 kg)v2 + !(1 kg)v2 + !(0.01 kg· m2)(v/0.1 m)2 =
(4 kg – 1 kg)(9.8 m/s2)(1.5 m), which gives h
v = 4 m/s.
(b) Because the motion has constant acceleration, we have
y = !(v + v0)t; m2
h=0
1.5 m = !(3.8 m/s + 0)t, which gives t = 0.8 s.
56. (a) We choose the coordinates shown on the force diagrams.

Note that we take the positive direction in the direction r
α
of the acceleration for each object.
We write ΣFy = may for the larger mass: out of
R
m1g – T1 = m1a. page
We write Σ Fy = may for the smaller mass: r
T1 r
T2 – m2g = m2a. r T2
T1
We write Στ = Iα for the pulley about its axle:
T1R – T2R = MR2α.
Because the string does not slip on the pulley, we have a = Rα.
r
When we combine these equations to eliminate T1 , T2 and α, we get T2
+y +y
a = (m1 – m2)g/(m1 + m2 + M)
r
= (1.2 kg – 0.85 kg)(9.8 m/s2)/(1.2 kg + 0.85 kg + 0.45 kg) m1 g
= 1.4 m/s2 .
r
(b) For the motion of the larger mass, we have m2 g
y = y0 + v0yt + !ayt2;
1.6 m = 0 + 0 + !(1.4 m/s2)t2, which gives
t = 1.5 s.
Page 10-15
57. While the ball is sliding down the smooth side of the bowl, the kinetic
energy of translation increases as the potential energy decreases. If No friction Friction
the ball starts rolling immediately at the bottom, the distance in which
sliding changes to rolling is very short and the work done by friction
can be neglected. There will be both translational and rotational h
kinetic energy as the ball starts rolling up the other side. While the ball
is rolling up the side, friction does no work. Thus we use the work-energy
theorem from the release point to the point where the ball momentarily comes
to rest:
Wnet = ∆K + ∆U;
0 = (0 – 0) + Mg(h′ – h), which gives
h′ = h.
With our assumption of no work done by the friction forces, the initial and final potential energies must
be the same.
58. (a) Each horizontal section of the door can be considered to be a rod,
so we have
Id = @Ml2 = @(15 kg)(1.2 m)2 =7.2 kg · m2 . M
(b) During the collision, angular momentum of the door-mud ball r
system about an axis through the hinges is conserved: v
L = mvl = (Id + ml2)ω; m
(0.3 kg)(12 m/s)(1.2 m) = [7.2 kg · m2 + (0.3 kg)(1.2 m)2]ω, which gives
ω = 0.57 rad/s.
(c) Kf/Ki = !(Id + ml2)ω2/!mv2
= [7.2 kg· m2 + (0.3 kg)(1.2 m)2](0.566 rad/s)2/[(0.3 kg)(12 m/s)2]
= 0.057.
l
59. We convert the speed: (80 km/h)/(3.6 ks/h) = 22.2 m/s.

(a) If we ignore the change in friction force, the horizontal linear momentum is conserved:
m1v1 = (m1 + m2)v2
(75 kg + 450 kg)(22 m/s) = (75 kg + 450 kg + 75 kg)v2, which gives v2 = 19.4 m/s.
(b) If we ignore the rotational energy of the wheels, the fraction of the kinetic energy that is lost is
– ∆K/K = [!m1v12 – !(m1 + m2)v22]/!m1v12 = 1 – [(m1 + m2)/m1](v2/v1)2
= 1 – [(75 kg + 450 kg + 75 kg)/(75 kg + 450 kg)][(19.4 m/s)/(22.2 m/s)]2
= 0.127.
(c) We still have conservation of linear momentum, so v2 = 19.4 m/s.
For the rolling wheels we have ω = v/r. Thus the fraction of the kinetic energy that is lost is
– ∆K/K = 1 – [!(m1 + m2)v22 + 2(!Iω22)]/[!m1v12 + 2(!Iω12)]
= 1 – [(m1 + m2 + 2I/r2)/(m1 + 2I/r2)](v2/v1)2
= 1 – {[600 kg + 2(3 kg · m2)/(0.5 m)2]/[525 kg + 2(3 kg · m2)/(0.5 m)2]}[(19.4 m/s)/(22.2 m/s)]2
= 0.132.
60. From the work-energy theorem, we have

Wnet = ∆K = !Iω2 – 0.
Thus P = W/∆t = ∆K/∆t = !Iω2/∆t;
1.6 × 103 W= !(1.2 kg · m2)[(17,000 rev/min)(2π rad/rev)/(60 s/min)]2/∆t, which gives
∆t = 1.2 × 103 s = 20 min.
Page 10-16
61. Because mass M is stationary, the tension in the string, which

provides the centripetal acceleration of the mass m, is T = Mg.
r
Thus, for ΣFr = mar for the mass m, we have v
Mg = mv12/r1 = mr1ω12; m
r
M(9.8 m/s2) = (0.2 kg)(0.8 m)(40 rad/s)2, which gives M = 26 kg.
Because the mass M is increased slowly, we can assume that
T = Mg at all times. For the mass m, there are no torques acting
about the center, so we have conservation of angular momentum:
mv1r1 = mv2r2 , or r12ω1 = r22ω;
(0.8 m)2(40 rad/s) = (0.7 m)2ω2 , which gives ω2 = 52 rad/s.
For ΣFr = mar for the mass m, we have
M′g = mr2ω22; M
M′(9.8 m/s2) = (0.2 kg)(0.7 m)(52 rad/s)2, which gives M′ = 38 kg.
The increase in M is 38 kg – 26 kg = 12 kg.
r r
62. If we take r and p to be in the xy-plane, we have
r r r r
( r × p ) · ( r × p ) = (xpy – ypx) kˆ · (xpy –ypx) kˆ = (xpy – ypx)2
= x2py2 – 2xypxpy + y2px2
= (x2 + y2)py2 + (x2 + y2)px2 – y2py2 – 2xypxpy – x2px2
r r
= r2p2 – (xpx + ypy)2 = r2p2 – ( r ⋅ p )2. l CM
For the kinetic energy r wer have r r r r
K = pr2/2m r = [( r × p ) · ( r × p )/r2 + ( r ⋅ p )2/r2]/2m
= L · L /2mr2 + (rpr)2/2mr2; y =0
K = L2/2mr2 + pr2/2m.
63. Because of the band, the tangential speed of the shaft must equal the tangential speed of the flywheel:
rsωs = rwωw ;
(0.05 m)(1400 rev/min)(2π rad/rev)/(60 s/min) = (0.35 m)ωw , which gives ωw = 20.9 rad/s.
The work done increases the kinetic energy of the flywheel:
Wnet = ∆K = !(!Mrw2)ωw2 – 0 = ![!(300 kg)(0.35 m)2)](20.9 rad/s)2 = 4.0 × 103 J.
64. (a) If the contact point does not move, no work is done by the friction force.
With the reference level for potential energy at the table,
we use energy conservation:
Ki + Ui = Kf + Uf ;
0 + !Mgl = !(@Ml2)ω2 + 0, which gives ω = (3g/l)1/2 , clockwise.
(b) The angular momentum as the rod hits is
L = Iω = (@Ml 2) (3g/l)1/2 = (@M2gl 3)1/2, clockwise.
(c) The kinetic energy is K = !Iω2 = !(@Ml 2)(3g/l) = !Mgl .
65. For ΣFr = mar , we have

F = K/r2 = Mv2/r, which gives v2 = K/Mr.
(a) The angular momentum is
L = Mvr = Mv(K/Mv2), which gives v = K/L.
(b) r = K/(Mv2) = K/(MK2/L2) = L2/MK.
(c) T = 2πr/v = 2π(L2/MK)/(K/L) = 2πL3/MK2 .
(d) a = v2/r = (K/L)2/(L2/MK) = MK3/L4 .
Page 10-17
66. The velocity of the mass is

r r
v = dr /dt = d( iˆ A cos ω1t + ˆj B cos ω2t)/dt = – iˆ Aω1 sin ω1t – ˆj Bω2 sin ω2t,
and itsrangular momentum is
r r r r
L = r × p = m( r × v )
= m( iˆ A cos ω t + ˆj B cos ω t) × (– iˆ Aω sin ω t – ˆj Bω sin ω t)
1 2 1 1 2 2
= m[(A cos ω1t)(–Bω2 sin ω2t) – (B cos ω2t)(–Aω1 sin ω1t)] kˆ

r r
= mAB(ω 1 sin ω1t cosω 2 t −ω 2 cos ω1t sin ω 2t) k . L is in the z-direction.
r
To make
r L a constant, set
d L /dt = mAB kˆ d(ω1 sin ω1t cos ω2t – ω2 cos ω1t sin ω2t)/dt
= mAB kˆ (ω12 cos ω1t cos ω2t – ω1ω2 sin ω1t sin ω2t + ω1ω2 sin ω1t sin ω2t – ω22 cos ω1t cos ω2t)
= mAB kˆ (ω 2 – ω 2) cos ω t cos ω t
1 2 1 2
= 0, r
which gives ω1 = ω2 , whereupon L = mABω kˆ .
67. Assume the hurricane to be a uniform cylinder of air, 100 km in radius, 10 km high, with average air
speed of 100 km/h (about 30 m/s) and average density of 1 kg/m3. The mass of the hurricane is
m ≈ πR2 h ≈ π(100,000 m)2 (10,000 m) ≈ 3 × 1014 kg, and its kinetic energy is
K ≈ !mv2 ≈ !(3 × 1014 kg)(30 m/s)2 ≈ 1 × 1017 J.
To find the angular momentum, consider a thin cylindrical shell of the hurricane, height h, between radii
r and r + dr. The mass of the shell is dm = ρ dV = ρ(2πrhdr), and for the shell
dL ≈ vr dm = 2πρhvr2dr.
Integrate over r from 0 to R:
L = ∫ dL ≈ 2πρhv ∫ r2dr = %πρhvR3 = (%vR)(ρ πR2h) = %mvR
≈ %(3 × 1014 kg)(30 m/s)(100,000 m) = 6 × 1020 kg · m2/s.
In comparison, the spin angular momentum of Earth is 7 × 1033 kg · m2/s, from Chapter 9.
68. For the inelastic collision, angular momentum about the contact
point A is conserved: r
v
LA = mvl = (@Ml2 + ml2)ω0 ,
which gives the initial angular speed for the falling;
ω0 = 3mv/[(M + 3m)l]= 3mv/[(5m + 3m)l] = 3v / 8l.
After the collision, the rotational inertia about the contact point is CM l
IA = @Ml2 + ml2 = 8ml2/3.
If the contact point does not move, no work is done by the friction force.
For the falling motion, we use energy conservation, with the reference level y =0
for potential energy at the table: A
Ki + Ui = Kf + Uf;
!IAω02 + (!Mgl) + mgl = !IAω2 + 0
!(8ml2/3)(3v/ 8l)2 + !(5m)gl + mgl = !(8ml2/3)ω2 + 0,
which gives ω = (9 v2/16 + 21gl/2)1/2/2l, clockwise.
The angular momentum as the rod hits is
L = Iω = (8ml2/3)(9v2/16 + 21gl/2)1/2/2l
= (4ml/3)(9v2/16 + 21gl/2)1/2, clockwise.
The kinetic energy is
K = !Iω2 = ml2 (3v2/4 + 14gl).
Page 10-18
69. If we call the length of the string L, the angle that the top has turned when the string comes off is
θ = L/R. With a constant force (and thus constant torque), the accelerations will be constant.
We write Στ = Iα about the center of mass of the top:
FR = !MR2α, which gives α = 2F/MR.
For the angular motion we find the time of the accelerated motion from
θ = θ0 + !αt2;
L/R = !(2F/MR)t2, which gives t = (LM/F)1/2 .
(a) We write ΣF = ma for the center of mass:
F = Ma, which gives a = F/M.
The speed when the string drops off is
v = v0 + at = 0 + (F/M) (LM/F)1/2 = (FL/M)1/2
= (0.6 N)(1 m)/(0.10 kg) = 2.4 m/s.
(b) We find the angular speed from
ω2 = ω2 + 2αθ
= 0 + 2(2F/MR)(L/R) = 4FL/MR2
= 4(0.6 N)(1 m)/(0.10 kg)(0.02 m)2, which gives
ω = 2.4 × 102 rad/s.
70. The cylinder will roll about the contact point A.

We write Στ = Iα about the point A:
2 2 2 2
F(R – h) + FN1 R – (R – h) – Mg R – (R – h) = IAα. r
r
When the cylinder does roll over the curb, contact with F FN2
the ground is lost and FN1 = 0. Thus we get R
2 2 r
F = (IAα + Mg R – (R – h) )/(R – h) FN1
A
2
= [IAα/(R – h)] + [Mg 2Rh– h /(R – h)]. h
The minimum force occurs when α = 0: r
Fmin = Mg h(2R – h) /(R – h). Mg
Page 10-19
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the late Lord Armstrong in his capacity as High Sheriff of the County, a dinner served in
the great banqueting-hall at Jesmond Dene, the walls of which were richly decorated with
many important examples of modern art, that I made my first essay as a public speaker.
But what interested me most keenly at the time was the opportunity which the daily
working of the Courts afforded of appreciating and distinguishing the great talents of the
men who then graced the Circuit.
The first who won my admiration, and it was not wonderful, was Charles Russell, and
I remember, in the constant discussions which occupied the Junior end of our table at the
evening mess, I always stoutly maintained that he would prove the greatest advocate in
England.
He already possessed that dominating personality which was felt by Judge and
Counsel alike, and an instance of his imperious temper came to me very early in our
acquaintance. Though I had seen and admired him constantly in Court, I had not been
introduced to him till I met him one evening in the rooms of Mr. M‘Connell in the
Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. Russell was always a keen cardplayer, though I am assured by
those who are better able to judge, a player not distinguished by any exceptional skill.
There were four of us present that evening, and Russell at once insisted that the table
should be brought out for a rubber of whist. I nervously explained to him that I knew
scarcely anything of the game, but my objection was curtly overborne in a manner that
left me no alternative. By an unhappy fate Russell cut me as a partner, and the blunders
which I had clearly foreseen must occur, endured at first with some semblance of
equanimity, at last ended in an explosion of rebuke that only made the more inevitable a
series of even worse blunders in the game to follow.
By this time Russell had lost all patience, and, to say the truth, so had I, and with a
courage and audacity, which I certainly could not have exhibited had I then known him
better, I pointed out to him that the fault was his own, that I had warned him of my
incompetence, and yet in the face of that confession he had forced me to join in the game.
To my utter amazement he became suddenly gentle and self-controlled, and said,
“Yes, yes, you’re right. I had forgotten that. I had no business to speak to you like that.”
Other instances of Russell’s commanding personality, though they belong to a later
time, come back to me now.
During the progress of the famous Belt trial, through the kindness of Sir George
Lewis I one day found my way into Court; but I had scarcely taken my seat when
Russell, with an imperious gesture, beckoned me to his side. “Carr,” he said, “you know
about Art?” and before I knew whither his statement tended I found myself in the
witnessbox confronted with the two test busts on which the issue in the case mainly
depended.
The last time we met in public was on the occasion of a dinner to be given to Sir
Henry Irving on his return from America, when Sir Charles Russell was in the chair. As I
entered the anteroom where the guests were assembled Russell took me by the lapel of
my coat and drew me aside. “You ought to be doing this,” he said. “You can do this sort
of thing; I can’t.”
That portion of the statement which concerns himself was, at any rate, partly true.
Russell was never quite at home in these lighter ways of oratory. It needed the pressure of
a great issue to exhibit his powers of eloquence at their best, and even in the House of
Commons I fancy he never quite justified his unrivalled position at the Bar.
But in that special gift of eloquence that makes for power in advocacy there was
surely no man of his time who could claim to be his equal. Within the arena of the Court
his personality imposed itself; in the stress of conflict it could even be menacing. It
exercised its influence upon the jury; it was not unfelt upon the Bench. Like all great
advocates, he was at his best when the gravity of the issue summoned all his resources.
He was only fully inspired when his individuality was fully and deeply engaged, and for
that he needed the spur of something definite, concrete, and individual. His gifts of
oratory were conspicuous. In those northern Circuit days I used constantly to notice a
greater freedom and picturesqueness of gesture, a more complete surrender to a mood of
passionate utterance than any of his fellows could command. These things were his in
virtue of his birthright as an Irishman. But they were not at his service upon an issue that
was coldly intellectual or remotely abstract. There was in his nature that purely
combative element that could only find its full expression in the battle of litigation; the
clash of ideas left him comparatively cold: he was so far an artist that he needed to be
moved and stirred by facts that were moulded into a definite story of individual fortunes
—then, and only then, the full force of his personality came into play. At such moments
his strength far outmeasured the weight of gifts that were merely intellectual; such gifts,
however considerable, were then enforced by qualities of character and even of temper
very difficult to define but still more difficult to resist.
In after years he once told me that his habit had always been to prepare his cases
chronologically. He wanted to know what was missing in the story he had to tell, to be
prepared in anticipation for any surprise coming from the other side that might suddenly
be brought to fill the vacant gaps in his own narrative. And this simple process of
preparation showed itself in his methods as an advocate. His power of presenting his case
had something of the charm a story-teller can command. It was always lucid, direct, and
consecutive, never halting or confused. Sir William Gilbert once told me that on a certain
occasion he was in Court listening to his own counsel opening to the jury the story of his
own case. He said he was charmed, by the interest of the narrative as it was gradually
developed, and that the only criticism that occurred to him was that the substance of the
speech bore no relation to the contention he had come into Court to establish. Such a
reproach, I think, could never at any period in his career have been made against the late
Lord Russell.
I did not at first recognise that Russell had in his constant opponent, John Holker, a
man of intellectual power, as great, or perhaps even greater, than his own. Holker had
little of the grace that Russell could boast; his personality was outwardly heavy and
uncouth; his language, rarely eloquent, was sometimes even rough and halting. But in his
grasp of every case presented to him, and in his power of imposing the view he sought to
uphold upon a northern jury, even Russell was not his equal. A man of great physique, in
person cumbrous and heavy, and in facial expression unalert and uninspiring, he
sometimes gave to his hearers rather the impression of a giant talking in his sleep.
But as I watched him from day to day, it very soon became convincingly clear to me
that the giant was there. He seemed to notice nothing, and yet nothing escaped him. His
method of appeal to the jury had something almost of cunning in its apparent
helplessness.
Even when he was nearing success, and the verdict was within his grasp, he still
retained the air of a man whose cause was in danger owing to his inferior grace of style
and his halting powers of eloquence. He had that persuasive art of convincing the jury
that he was a plain man like themselves, and that the cause of justice was likely to suffer
by reason of the superior intellectual attainments of his opponents, unless he and they laid
their heads together as plain men, and stood shoulder to shoulder in earnest endeavour to
vindicate the right.
It was only afterwards that I got to know that beneath this heavy and impenetrable
exterior there lurked a keen and supple sense of humour. On the occasion of the annual
Grand Night the leader who presided did not always take the personal trouble to invent or
devise the sort of burlesque address interspersed with lyrical effusions which was deemed
appropriate and indispensable. I remember my friends, the late Mr. M‘Connell and Hugh
Shield, who was known as the laureate of the Circuit, very often came to the assistance of
the leader who felt himself unequipped for this lighter task imposed upon him.
But when it came to Holker’s turn, despite the fact that he was engaged on nearly
every case sent up for trial, he chose to do the whole himself, and very admirably it was
done.
Herschell’s intellect differed widely from both. In power of logical statement, in clear
and coherent reasoning, and in the ability to conduct an argument without a flaw from
start to finish, he was certainly not the inferior of either. But his nature on the emotional
side, as far at least as advocacy was concerned, was poorly furnished. He lacked the
warmth to sway a jury. He was unable to realise any disability in others that he did not
possess in himself, and the consequence was that he had often concluded his address to
the jury before these unfortunate gentlemen had apprehended the essential features of the
case he was trying to enforce. And for this reason his appeal as an advocate was far less
potent than that of either of his two great rivals. The cold steel of his intellect never
reached white heat. His eloquence lacked the picturesque adornments which in their
different ways they could both command, and in this respect he stood in even more
striking contrast with Sam Pope, who, in a brief flight of advocacy, once or twice
impressed me more than them all.
The duties of the Junior of the Circuit sometimes placed me in somewhat ludicrous
conflict with authority, and it happened that on my first Circuit I was forced, as the
spokesman of the Bar, into a somewhat heated controversy with the Attorney-General,
the late Lord Coleridge.
Charles Russell had been sent by the Crown with a special retainer to prosecute Mrs.
Cotton, the notorious murderess who had poisoned a number of her nieces and nephews
for the sake of small village insurances she had effected on their lives. This aroused the
indignation of the Bar at Durham, who thought that Mr. Aspinall, who held the position
of Attorney-General for the County, was entitled to the brief. And it was Herschell who
prompted me in the letters of protest which I was instructed to send to Lord Coleridge,
and which were afterwards published in the Times.
That same trial of Mrs. Cotton stands out vividly in my remembrance from among the
many criminal cases which I have witnessed in the Courts. I remember Russell telling me
afterwards that the several cases actually proved against her, amounting, I think, to five or
six, were only a few from among many others in which her guilt was equally assured; and
yet, during her trial, this elderly woman, who in appearance resembled rather a
comfortable monthly nurse, never evinced the smallest trace of emotion or concern.
It was proved that she had sat up night after night assiduously nursing her victims, as,
one after another, they succumbed to the poison she had administered. And yet it was
only when her advocate, whose case from the first was hopeless, endeavoured to appeal
to the jury by a purely fanciful picture of her constant affection for these helpless
children, that Mrs. Cotton—moved rather, as it would seem, by the artistic skill of his
eloquence than by any deeper feeling—shed a few tears such as might have been wrung
from a spectator at a play.
My own experiences as a barrister are too slight to deserve any record. Mainly
through the kindly influence of Charles Crompton I appeared in one or two civil causes,
but these were before an arbitrator and not in open court. Once, and once only, I was
entrusted with a brief to defend a person who was accused of having stolen a moth-eaten
pillow from a passing barrow containing the household effects of a neighbour who was
shifting her quarters.
I was assured by my friends on Circuit that had I chosen to pursue my career I should
have made an effective advocate. But the expenses incident to this side of my calling
were already beginning to press heavily upon me; and as I was then almost entirely
dependent on what I could earn for myself, I rather grudged the constant drain upon my
income as a journalist which my life at the Bar involved; and when in the month of July
1873 I became engaged to be married, I quickly perceived that the only speedy prospect
of making a home for my wife was to devote the whole of my energies to literature and
journalism, in which I had already made a successful start.
But the profession of the Law, so eagerly adopted and so speedily abandoned, has
always had for me a strong fascination, and among its professors, both past and present, I
have counted many of my closest friends.
Emery Walker
DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI
From the portrait by himself in the National Portrait Gallery.
To face page 59.

CHAPTER V
I can hardly say what it was that gave to my early efforts in journalism a decided bent
towards the study of Art; for although my first experiments, as I have already said, were
made as a dramatic critic, I very soon found myself employing the best of my energies in
another direction.
My elder sister had already begun a serious study of painting, and that no doubt partly
influenced my taste as a boy. Not that my keen interest in the drama ever lapsed, even
during the period when I was qualifying myself as an Art Critic; but it lay dormant for a
time, in so far at least as my journalistic occupation was concerned; and apart from my
daily work upon the Globe, and those lighter essays on general and social topics
contributed to the Examiner and the Saturday Review, my main energies for several years
to come were destined to be employed in the criticism of pictorial art.
It is not quite easy now to realise the extraordinary interest with which the annual
exhibitions at the Royal Academy were then greeted by those whose minds had been
awakened to the new movement in painting.
I can remember year after year, from the age of sixteen, presenting myself on each
opening Monday at eight o’clock in the morning at the doors of Burlington House, and
snatching an hour there before making my way to the City. The pre-Raphaelite movement
had begotten a freshly awakened spirit, not only in the workers themselves, but in those
who worshipped them. The advent of Ruskin had kindled a new flame which made a
study of Art something more than mere dilettantism. It was with something almost of
religious fervour that we awaited the advent of a new Millais or Holman Hunt, for it was
then only on rare occasions that we had the chance of seeing an example of the work of
Rossetti.
Art in more recent days has come to make, even in the hands of its greatest
professors, a more technical appeal, and those of us who are not of the calling are now
somewhat sternly bidden to confine ourselves to dumb appreciation, and are severely
warned not to venture to deliver opinions on matters in which we are not qualified by
special study.
This is the fate of all art, either literary or pictorial, at those seasons of impaired
vitality when it falls under the domination of men of the “métier.” It is the assured sign of
a passing period of decadence. The moment when the artist has missed the spirit which
links his work with the wider emotional movement of his generation, is always the
moment when he most zealously and most loudly acclaims the detachment and
independence of his calling.
He is always most eager to be judged by the comrades of his craft when he realises,
though perhaps only half consciously, that his appeal is no longer to the simple. It is the
moment when art leans towards bric-a-brac, when the painter or the sculptor is no longer
spurred by the larger desire to have his work understanded of the people, when he is
content in each little coterie with the appreciation of his disciples who in their turn aim at
nothing better than the approbation of their master. That any work worthy of the name,
whether in literature, painting, or sculpture, must of necessity conform to the irrefutable
laws of the medium in which it is expressed, is little better than an outworn platitude. But
to concede so much is only to admit the inevitable limitations of every art; it is the
acceptance of its inherent conditions, not the definition of its essence; and the endeavour
to refuse to artists rightly equipped for their task the larger function of imaging the wider
passions of life, is simply to rob the record of the past of its greatest and most enduring
achievements.
For my own part I have never made any pretence of bowing before these inordinate
pretensions of the masters of mere technique. They form part of a gospel that has always
been widely preached: in my youthful day it spread upon its banner the specious motto of
“Art for Art’s sake”; but it reappears under many disguises, and rests ultimately and
always upon the assumption that the men of the “métier” are the sole and exclusive
judges of the worth of any artistic product.
Certainly, if this dictum had prevailed in the time I am recalling, the great movement
which won all our youthful enthusiasm, a movement beyond question the greatest and
most influential in the Art of Europe during the nineteenth century, would never have
found strength to develop. Never did young men of their calling meet with more
embittered opposition from the accepted masters of the time; and if it had not been that a
true impulse inspiring their work stirred a deeper response in a section of the public than
was accorded to them by their fellow-painters, they would most surely have lacked the
encouragement and the praise which to every artist is as the breath of his life.
The thought and feeling of the time, as it found expression in every art, was moved by
something deeper than the merely artistic impulse. That much-bespattered Victorian Era,
whatever its limitations, could claim at least this cardinal virtue, that the men who are its
foremost representatives were able to forge anew the links that bind life and art together.
The gifts they owned were too great to let them stand in any fear of the threatened danger
of “the literary idea”; and if occasionally they had to acknowledge a measure of failure,
the fear of such failure never drove them to take refuge within the safe confines of mere
technical accomplishment.
The spirit of poetry, re-awakened in literature, had found its way into art, and
themselves the comrades of the poets of the time, the leaders of the little band whose
efforts were destined to revolutionise English painting, gladly confessed in their own
work, though in varying measure, the newly kindled ambition to embody in art that
quality of imagination that had hitherto found expression only in literature.
And this movement towards a wider idealism was helped, not hindered, by the
strenuous desire for the faithful presentment of actual reality which stood as a dominant
article of faith in the pre-Raphaelite creed.
At the head of this revolution in taste, which has left a lasting mark, not only upon the
painting of England, but also in some degree upon the art of all Continental nations, two
names I think stand pre-eminent, those of G. F. Watts and Dante Gabriel Rossetti. From
them came the poetic inspiration which lay at the root of all the greatest achievements of
the time. Others there were, like Millais, more greatly endowed with the painter’s gift,
but even he, whose genius was destined ultimately to find its own more congenial
exercise in portraiture and landscape, confessed in his earlier days the commanding
domination of men who, in intellect and imagination, were his leaders and his masters.
The work of Mr. Watts, based on an earlier tradition, was open to all the world, but it
was only by rare chance and good fortune that the student of that day had the opportunity
of making acquaintance with the paintings of Rossetti. I remember it was while I was on
Circuit that I had my first sight of some examples of his work in the collection of Mr. Rae
of Birkenhead, and there, too, I found pictures of Madox Brown, another of the group
who did not publicly exhibit. I think it was a study of Mr. Rae’s collection that induced
me to publish in the Globe newspaper a series of articles on painters of the day over the
signature of “Ignotus” in the year 1873.
Certainly it was the publication of these papers that formed the occasion of my
making the acquaintance of several of the artists whose talent I had endeavoured to
appreciate. It was my intention at the time to refashion the series and to issue them as a
separate volume, and with that view I wrote to several of them asking them for some
personal details of the earlier days of their studentship. The answers I received were in
nearly every case characteristic, and it was by means of my correspondence with Rossetti
that I afterwards became a visitor at his house.
It was through my friend Mr. George Hake, who was at that time staying with him,
that I first obtained a personal introduction to Rossetti, but we were already known to
each other by correspondence.
In his letter to me dated from Kelmscott in November 1873 he writes: “As a painter,
and I am ashamed at my age to say it, I have never even approached satisfaction with my
own progress until within the last five years. My youth was spent chiefly in planning and
designing, and whether I shall still have time to do anything I cannot tell.”
As a matter of fact, Rossetti had at that date produced most of the work by which he
will be best remembered. As a lad of twenty he had painted “The Girlhood of Mary the
Virgin,” followed shortly afterwards by “The Annunciation”; and some of the most
beautiful of his drawings, the exquisite portrait of “Miss Siddal,” the “Hamlet and
Ophelia,” and the large drawing of “Helen arming Paris,” already stood to his credit.
At the time I first knew him he had already painted “The Loving Cup,” “The
Beloved,” “Mona
Hollyer
From the painting by G. F. Watts, R.A., in the National Portrait
Gallery.
To face page 65.
Vanna,” and “Lady Lilith,” and in the earlier part of the period to which these works
belonged he had given to the world that exquisite series of watercolour paintings in
which “Paolo and Francesca” and “Heart of the Night” stand pre-eminent.
It was “The Beloved” and “Mona Vanna” that I particularly remember as forming part
of the collection of Mr. Rae, and it was mainly upon these two paintings, and a
knowledge of some of the drawings in Black and White, that I had founded my first
enthusiastic appreciation of the painter’s genius.
The common impression of the time, which I indeed partly shared, was that Rossetti’s
individuality, however finely it might be endowed with poetic imagination, was not of the
most virile order. For this he himself was in a great degree responsible. He had
deliberately withdrawn from all public exhibition of his work, and even later, when I
became connected with the establishment of the Grosvenor Gallery, he still held fast to
his earlier resolution.
The man, as I came to know him in the flesh, was therefore something of a surprise to
me, and I quickly perceived, as I learned to know him better, that, whatever may have
been the source of his reluctance to expose himself to the fire of criticism, it certainly was
not due to any lack of masculine strength.
On the occasion of my first visit to Cheyne Walk, it was indeed the breadth of his
sympathy both in literature and art, no less than the fineness and delicacy of his taste, that
most impressed me. Those never-to-be-forgotten evenings that I passed in his company
became at the time a sort of enchantment. His talk was assuredly more inspiring than that
of any man I have ever known; most inspiring certainly to a youth who had ambitions of
his own, for, although intolerant of any utterance that was merely conventional, and quick
to detect the smallest lack of sincerity, he was ever patient with the expression of any
enthusiasm however crude, and was as ready to listen as to reply.
I can see him now as he used to lie coiled up on the sofa in his studio after dinner, and
can hear the deep tones of his rich voice as he ranged widely over the fields of literature
and art, always trenchant, always earnest, yet now and again slipping with sudden wit and
humour into a lighter vein.
I remember that one afternoon as I sat beside him while he worked, the late Mr. Virtue
Tebbs came in fresh from an exhibition of the old masters at Burlington House, and full
of enthusiasm for a picture by Turner which he insisted that Rossetti must speedily go
and see.
“What is it called?” asked Rossetti.
“ ‘Girls Surprised while Bathing,’ ” replied Tebbs.
“Umph!” returned Rossetti. “Yes, I should think devilish surprised to see what Turner
had made of them.”
On one point he was always absolutely emphatic.
“A picture,” he used to say to me, “is a painted poem, and those who deny it have
simply no poetry in their nature.” It was, I think, the absence of this quality that made
him intolerant of the work of artists like Albert Moore.
“Often pretty,” he said, “pretty enough, but sublimated café-painting and nothing
more.”
But he could be unstintedly generous in his praise, as he was searching and even
scathing in his criticism. Of Millais he once said to me:
“I don’t believe since painting began there has ever been a man more greatly endowed
with the mere painter’s power.”
And of Burne-Jones, not once, but often, he spoke in terms of the warmest and
highest praise.
“He has oceans of imagination,” he used to say, “and in this respect there has been
nobody like him since Botticelli.” And then, reverting to his favourite maxim, he added
in those round and ringing tones that seemed at once to invite and to defy contradiction:
“If, as I hold, the noblest picture is a painted poem, then I say that in the whole history of
art there has never been a painter more greatly gifted with poetic invention.”
Of Leighton he was wont to speak with genuine respect and sincere appreciation.
There was only one point, and that concerned not the character but the manners of the
graceful and accomplished President, on which he was not quite tolerant.
“Leighton,” he said one night, “is undoubtedly one of the most gifted and
accomplished creatures of his time. There’s scarcely anything which he can’t do, and
can’t do well. He has, besides, a very high sense of duty which I know to be sincere, and
even as a painter he undoubtedly deserves to some extent the position he occupies, but as
to manners——”
And then in a few trenchant sentences he would give his own, not very flattering,
impression of what he considered to be Leighton’s imperfections on this score.
At the simple dinners to which I was at that time hospitably bidden, Rossetti, as he sat
at the head of his table, was always amusing to watch. His inability to serve any dish set
before him was pathetic in its helplessness. He would lunge at a joint as though it were a
hostile foe, driving it from one end of the dish to the other till he got it securely cornered
in its well of gravy, and then plunge his knife into it with something of deadly ferocity.
It is related of Rossetti, though I myself was not a witness to the incident, that on one
occasion he was so entirely oblivious of the contents of the dish before him, that, wishing
to prove its value as a specimen of oriental porcelain, he turned it over to examine the
marks on its back, and all unconsciously deposited the turbot on the table-cloth.
I remember he very greatly admired some literary review which I had published in the
columns of the Globe, the subject of which I now forget; and in the talk that followed he
spoke with rare eloquence of the poets of the dawn of the last century, dwelling especially
upon Keats, whom he knew I loved deeply, and coming at last to Landor, whose work,
however beautiful, has never warmly appealed to me.
“What do you think of Landor?” he inquired.
I answered, “It seems to me through all his poetry that his genius is impersonal
without being dramatic,” and Rossetti, who was always generous in his appreciation of
youth, answered with a phrase that sent me home that night happy and contented.
“By Jove,” he said, “that’s the finest criticism ever made on Landor!”
I make no pretence that it was: it was enough for me then that he thought so, or that
he said so.
But this friendship with Rossetti, so dearly prized by me and so indelible in its lasting
impression, was not destined to endure for long. During the later days of our association
he was already to some extent a sick man. Little by little the invitations, once so freely
extended to me, slackened in their warmth of hospitality, until the day came when I
realised the fact that my visits to Cheyne Walk were no longer welcome. It was not until
years afterwards that I learned the cause, and if I give it here, it is only because it
curiously illustrates that almost morbid sensitiveness of character which lay side by side
in his nature with the most masculine grasp of the problems of life and art.
He had, it seems, as I had learned from the lips of a friend whose devotion to the poet
endured till his death, a very high opinion of my judgment as an art critic, and he had
conceived the belief, perhaps true at the time, that I thought more highly of the work of
Burne-Jones than of his own. And although he himself had often said to me things of
Burne-Jones’s genius which no word of mine could out-measure in generous praise, it
fretted him, in the supersensitive condition in which suffering and ill-health had
consigned him, to be reminded by my presence of a judgment that in his own person he
would not have resented.
It may, as I have said, have been true then—though I was unaware that I had ever
betrayed the feeling to Rossetti—that Burne-Jones stood foremost in my appreciation of
the painters of the time. It is certainly not true now in any sense that would consign
Rossetti to an inferior place; for I have come to think, in the light of later study of the two
men’s work, that, in some undefinable and yet indisputable quality of genius, especially
as exemplified in his earlier work not then so well known to me, he stands pre-eminent
among those who influenced his generation.
As a colourist in that supreme sense in which colour is inspired by the purpose of the
design, he had in his earlier period no equal among them all. In later life, under the
shadow of suffering and sickness, the tones he employed had lost the first glowing
radiance of the dawn. But an artist lives only by his best; and if the best of Rossetti be
fairly measured and appraised, it will, I think, be hardly possible to dispute his right and
claim to have been the foremost leader in the movement with which his name is
associated.
CHAPTER VI
EDWARD BURNE-JONES
My intimacy with Burne-Jones struck deeper and lasted without interruption from
those earlier days of the “Ignotus” articles in the Globe to the time of his death in 1898.
We were friends for more than twenty-five years, and during the greater part of that
period the closest and most affectionate friends.
To him also I had written when I thought of enlarging that first crude criticism of his
work. I was a stranger to him then, although my elder sister had already made his
acquaintance, but his letter in reply to my application is delightful in its considerate
tolerance towards the somewhat audacious challenge of a boy to be supplied with the
particulars of his early career.
Referring to the pictures which I had specially selected for notice he writes:
“I need not say that such a flattering review of them gave me pleasure, for, whatever
cause I have to see them with disappointment, such sympathy as you express cannot be
anything but most welcome. But there is so little to say of the kind of information you
ask for, and I should like to say nothing, for a sudden feeling of being ridiculous
overwhelms me. At Oxford till twenty-three, therefore no right to begin art at all, never
having learnt one bit about it practically, nor till that time having seen any ancient picture
at all to my remembrance. Provincial life at home, at Oxford prints of Chalons and
Landseer—you know them all. I think Morris’s friendship began everything for me,
everything that I afterwards cared for. When I left Oxford I got to know Rossetti, whose
friendship I sought and obtained. He is, as you know, the most generous of men to the
young. I could not bear with the young man’s dreadful sensitiveness and intolerable
conceit as he did with mine. He taught me practically all I ever learned; afterwards I
made a method for myself to suit my nature. He gave me courage to commit myself to
imagination without shame, a thing both good and bad for me. It was Watts much later
who compelled me to try and draw better. I quarrel now with Morris about Art. He
journeys to Iceland and I to Italy, which is a symbol. And I quarrel too with Rossetti. If I
could travel backward, I think my heart’s desire would take me to Florence in the time of
Botticelli. I do feel out of time and place, and think you should let me go crumbling and
mouldering on, for I am not fit for much else but a museum. You see I am writing in front
of my work and ought to know, and I do know.”
The letter ends with a courteous invitation to visit his studio, where he promised to
show me the work he had completed during the year. Needless to say with what delight I
accepted, though I scarcely realised then that that visit was destined to date the beginning
of a friendship that endured without halt or flaw till the time of his death in the summer
of 1898.
When I first knew him in 1873, his appearance corresponded almost exactly with that
which is imaged in Watts’s beautiful portrait. His eyes then, as always, were the dominant
feature of his face—pale blue eyes, that revealed in their changing expression the
sympathy, the gentleness, and no less the strength, of his nature.
From the time I am speaking of, I became a constant and always welcome visitor to
his studio at the Grange, and at those simple Sunday luncheons to which his intimate
friends were bidden Burne-Jones very soon made known to me a side of his character
scarcely to be suspected by those who knew him only from his work.
Playful and humorous, boylike, and even child-like in his quick surrender to the
laughing mood of the moment, he could nevertheless become swiftly serious at the
summons of some deeper thought, and without the need of any prepared process of
transition could shift with ready and earnest eloquence to the discussion of those deeper
problems which touched the centre of his art.
From the outset we were in close agreement as to the dominating tendencies which
governed the great schools of European painting, and no less in our common preference
for the great tradition of Florentine design, established by the genius of Giotto and
culminating in the splendid achievement of Michael Angelo. Years afterwards, when I
had sent him a little volume of my gathered essays on Art, he wrote me: “I found your
book when I got home last night, and it was a real pleasure for me to have another proof
of your love and sympathy. And there will be this additional pleasure about it, that I know
how heartily I shall be at one with you while I read it.” And then, with a sudden turn to a
lighter mood, he adds: “We shall meet on Sunday at lunch. Georgie is away, but Margaret
dispenses lower middle-class hospitality with a finish and calm which would not disgrace
a higher social position.”
I suppose no man ever held with such unswerving fidelity to the ideal with which he
set out upon his career, an ideal as plainly manifest in those earlier contributions to the
old Water-Colour Society as in his last great picture of “Arthur in Avalon.” In him the
sense of design was all in all, but mere abstract design that missed the impulse of some
legend of passion or romance never quite contented his genius.
It was his delight, as it was the delight of Botticelli, to be always exercising his
invention upon some theme of legendary beauty; and it was his special gift, as indeed it
was also Botticelli’s, to be able to translate such themes into the appropriate language of
Art.
Though he could appreciate at its true value excellence in almost every school of
painting, his temper turned as by instinct even from the greatest masters who sought only
for a faithful rendering of nature. Blake once said that in his highest moments of
inspiration he was often haunted by those “Flemish Demons,” as he termed them, who
came and blurred his imagination and stole away the thought he desired to present. I
think Burne-Jones was sometimes haunted by them too.
It is not needful now to revive the memories of that fierce hostility of criticism which
greeted his earlier efforts. Rossetti’s determined reticence in regard to the exhibition of
his work left Burne-Jones in those earlier days to bear the whole brunt of the attack, for
the art of Millais and Holman Hunt made a somewhat different appeal and claimed a
separate victory. Nor was it wonderful that what lay in the mind of both to do should at
first have seemed tinged by something of determined archaic affectation. The temper of
their work was strange to the world to whom it was offered at first in a form so tentative,
and also confessedly so incomplete.
The history of English Painting, even in its greatest achievement, has left no tradition
to which they could appeal, and, indeed, if we take a wider range of view, it may be said
with equal truth that, since the downfall of the great school of Florence, Art throughout
Europe had taken a direction which made the efforts of these younger men seem like a
wilful neglect of the accepted models of style.
Such English masters of an earlier time as had attempted to enter into this higher
realm of imaginative painting—Barry, Fuseli, and Haydon, to name only the leaders—
had wrecked their lives in the vain endeavour suddenly to renew the splendours of the
great masters of the sixteenth century.
With the advent of the pre-Raphaelite movement, marked by a determined research of
greater reality in the rendering of actual fact, the failure of these earlier experiments
became only the more manifest; and it was left for that little group in which Rossetti and
Burne-Jones stand pre-eminent to realise the truth that, if imagination could ever again
resume its place in pictorial art, the result must be achieved, not by an endeavour to
repeat the triumphs of the past at the epoch of its culminating glory, but by retracing the
stream to its source and beginning again, where Florence had begun in the earlier period
of her history.
It was, I think, the first exhibition of the Grosvenor Gallery that gave Burne-Jones’s
critics reason to pause in their pitiless onslaught of ridicule and rebuke. But even then the
fight was not ended, and among the many members of the Academy itself the hostility
continued almost without check.
I remember going round that exhibition with Mr. Gladstone, and recalling a phrase of
his which he used in reference to this very feeling that was even then sufficiently openly
expressed.
Standing before one of Burne-Jones’s pictures which he was warmly admiring, he
turned to me and said, “Dislike of such a painter I can understand, but such intolerance of
dislike as I find on every hand I do not comprehend.”
It was, perhaps, difficult, even for those to whom such work made a sympathetic
appeal, to realise what a broad and liberal outlook in Literature, as well as in Art,
belonged to the painter whose deliberate selection of a chosen type of beauty might
plausibly seem to argue a narrow intelligence; and it was, indeed, only by close and
intimate knowledge of the man himself that one was enabled to escape altogether from
this initial prejudice.
As a talker he was wholly delightful. There were few subjects in literature upon
which those who might have thought to convict him of a narrow intensity of feeling could
have dared to challenge him with success. It was natural, perhaps, that, with his
preoccupation as a painter, his love should have turned most often and most readily to
legend and romance. But in romance his task took a wide range, and it will surprise
many, who see how rigorously all suggestion of humour is excluded from his paintings,
to learn that his knowledge of Dickens was almost encyclopædic, and his love of him,
like that of Mr. Swinburne, without limit of praise.
As our friendship advanced it came to be our custom to meet periodically at a little
restaurant in Soho, over a quiet dinner which we boasted was to be a mere preliminary to
“seeing Life”; but these evenings nearly always ended as they began, in talk over the
table—light and laughing to commence, and then drifting finally into deep and earnest
discussion of the things we loved the best in Poetry and Art; until, the lights gradually
extinguished, we were reminded that the closing hour had come, and that the projected
visit to the music-hall, which was to constitute our vision of Life, must needs be
postponed until another occasion.
And so these meetings went on from time to time, but never without a word of mock
indignant protest on his part that he had been cheated of a promised debauch. Once he
fired my imagination by telling me that he had made a solitary visit to the Aquarium,
where he had seen “The Last Supper” tattooed on a man’s back, and this taste of blood
had whetted his appetite for more salient examples of monstrosity which were at that
time being exhibited in Barnum’s Show.
An appointment made for the purpose I was compelled to abandon by reason of a
social engagement with my wife, a circumstance which drew from him a little note of
pitying sympathy:
“Carr Mio, so you have thrown me over! Well, perhaps you are right; at any rate I am
wrong to have trusted. I confess I marvelled at your bravery in so openly defying woman,
but knew that you must be justified in some consciousness of strength. But lo! you are
even as I, who boasted not. Still, we will have Barnum another night. I must see the fat
lady, and will.”
And then on the facing page he adds a monstrous portrait of that lady herself, a thing
of unimagined wealth of flesh, seated on a velvet cushion before the upturned eyes of a
crowded theatre.
Burne-Jones was wont to be lavish of these humorous sketches in letters to his
intimate friends, and I have one or two supposed to illustrate a projected fresh departure
in his Art, wherein, under the impulse of a new resolve, he was to abandon finally all
future effort after ideal design, and, conforming to that taste of the public which he had
hitherto failed to satisfy, to embark upon a series of pictures to represent, as he told me,
the homes of England.
“I enclose a sketch,” he writes, “for my next picture. It is a new departure, but the
public
FACSIMILE OF A LETTER
By Sir Edward Burne-Jones, Bart. (a).
To face page 78.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND
From an original drawing by Sir Edward Burne-Jones, Bart. (b).
To face page 78.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.
From an original drawing by Sir Edward Burne-Jones, Bart. (c).
To face page 78.
must be humoured. I have fought the fight of unpopularity long enough. Tell me what you
think,” and accompanying this startling announcement of the fresh direction his art was to
take, he enclosed, not a mere sketch, but an elaborately finished black and white drawing of
the first of the great series he had projected, wherein he had evidently intended to present a
typical representative of our great commercial nation—a hideous being stretched in
stertorous sleep upon a Victorian sofa of abominable design, every deformed curve and
moulding of which he had rendered with searching veracity.
I must have sent him in reply some burlesque welcome of the revolution in his style
indicated by the design, for in a day or two I received a second drawing more monstrous
and grotesque than the first, and with the drawing he wrote: “You divine my purpose. It was
the first of a series to be called the Homes of England.”
But even in these essays in the grotesque, and in the lighter and sometimes very graceful
fancies which he would illustrate so easily and so rapidly for our amusement, or for the
delight of our children, there was always an unfailing sense of composition and design.
One afternoon on the lawn of Lady Lewis’s cottage at Walton, where we often met, and
where so many happy hours of my life have been spent, he was discussing in a bantering
mood the reproach so often levelled against him, that his female forms were lean and
meagre and lacked the sense of flesh and blood.
“I think,” he said, “I must make a more determined study of the manner of Rubens,” and
thereupon, taking a sheet of paper from the table where Lady Lewis was writing, he began
at once to compose a picture of “Susannah and the Elders,” after the manner of the great
Flemish master. It took him only a few minutes to accomplish, and yet, as it lies before me
now, admirable as it is in its sense of caricature, it is no less striking for a certain beauty in
the ordered arrangement of line which could not desert him even when he was proposing to
lampoon himself.
It was, I think, about the same time that he laughingly proposed to instruct my eldest
boy in the principles of anatomy, and there and then made for him on the spur of the
moment two beautiful drawings representing the anatomy of the good man and the good
woman, to which he added, by special request, a third drawing illustrating the anatomy of
the bad man. On being met with the reproach that the drawing showed nothing of the details
of internal structure, he replied that there were none, as “the bad man was quite hollow”;
and on being further challenged to illustrate the anatomy of the bad woman, he gravely
replied, “My dear Phil, she doesn’t exist.”
In later days the little Bohemian meetings to which I have referred, at first restricted to
our two selves, took occasionally the form of larger hospitality. Sometimes Sir George and
Lady Lewis, and sometimes Sir Lawrence Tadema and his wife, would join our party.
On such evenings, to mark the added dignity to

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Answers to Understanding the Concepts Questions

17. The magnitude of the angular momentum

4. The speed of the orbiting object is given by v = 2πr/T.

6. Because the particle is traveling in a straight line, y = ax + b, y

9. From the position, rˆ = !at2 iˆ + vt ˆj + (!bt2 – wt) kˆ , we find the velocity:

12. (a) We use the parallel-axis theorem:

(c) fractional difference = [(Md2ωSun + ICMωEarth) – Md2ωSun]/(Md2ωSun + ICMωEarth)

= !(0.1 kg)(0.20 m)2(8 rad/s) kˆ x

From the symmetry of the system, each of the other masses

14. For a point a distance D below the origin, we have

15. In each case we have L = Iω, so we find the rotational inertia.

19. With the coordinate system shown on the diagram, we find

20. For the rresultant

21. The location of the mass is given by θ = ωt.

30. The angular momentum of the skater is conserved:

34. For the circular motion we can write

35. From P = τω we have

36. We choose the reference level for gravitational potential energy at

37. The work decreases the kinetic energy of the flywheel:

39. From the result of Problem 36, we have

40. (a) I = !MR2 = !ρVR2

43. The permissible energies of the hydrogen atom are

44. (a) The angular momentum of a uniform sphere is

= – (0.110 kg)(4.5 m/s)[6.0 m + !(9.8 m/s2)t2] kˆ

56. (a) We choose the coordinates shown on the force diagrams.

59. We convert the speed: (80 km/h)/(3.6 ks/h) = 22.2 m/s.

60. From the work-energy theorem, we have

61. Because mass M is stationary, the tension in the string, which

65. For ΣFr = mar , we have

66. The velocity of the mass is

= m[(A cos ω1t)(–Bω2 sin ω2t) – (B cos ω2t)(–Aω1 sin ω1t)] kˆ

70. The cylinder will roll about the contact point A.

To face page 59.

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI

To face page 65.

To face page 78.

To face page 78.

To face page 78.

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