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Ramji Lal

Algebra 2
Linear Algebra, Galois Theory,
Representation Theory,
Group Extensions and Schur Multiplier

123
Ramji Lal
Harish Chandra Research Institute (HRI)
Allahabad, Uttar Pradesh
India

ISSN 2363-6149 ISSN 2363-6157 (electronic)

Infosys Science Foundation Series
ISSN 2364-4036 ISSN 2364-4044 (electronic)
Infosys Science Foundation Series in Mathematical Sciences
ISBN 978-981-10-4255-3 ISBN 978-981-10-4256-0 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-981-10-4256-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017935547

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2017

This Springer imprint is published by Springer Nature

The registered company is Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd.
The registered company address is:
152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore
 Preface

Algebra has played a central and decisive role in all branches of mathematics and,
in turn, in all branches of science and engineering. It is not possible for a lecturer to
cover, physically in a classroom, the amount of algebra which a graduate student
(irrespective of the branch of science, engineering, or mathematics in which he
prefers to specialize) needs to master. In addition, there are a variety of students in a
class. Some of them grasp the material very fast and do not need much of assis-
tance. At the same time, there are serious students who can do equally well by
putting a little more effort. They need some more illustrations and also more
exercises to develop their skill and confidence in the subject by solving problems on
their own. Again, it is not possible for a lecturer to do sufficiently many illustrations
and exercises in the classroom for the aforesaid purpose. This is one of the con-
siderations which prompted me to write a series of three volumes on the subject
starting from the undergraduate level to the advance postgraduate level. Each
volume is sufficiently rich with illustrations and examples together with numerous
exercises. These volumes also cater for the need of the talented students with
difficult, challenging, and motivating exercises which were responsible for the
further developments in mathematics. Occasionally, the exercises demonstrating the
applications in different disciplines are also included. The books may also act as a
guide to teachers giving the courses. The researchers working in the field may also
find it useful.
The first volume consists of 11 chapters, which starts with language of mathe-
matics (logic and set theory) and centers around the introduction to basic algebraic
structures, viz., groups, rings, polynomial rings, and fields together with funda-
mentals in arithmetic. This volume serves as a basic text for the first-year course in
algebra at the undergraduate level. Since this is the first introduction to the
abstract-algebraic structures, we proceed rather leisurely in this volume as com-
pared with the other volumes.
The present (second) volume contains 10 chapters which includes the funda-
mentals of linear algebra, structure theory of fields and the Galois theory, repre-
sentation theory of groups, and the theory of group extensions. It is needless to say
that linear algebra is the most applicable branch of mathematics, and it is essential
for students of any discipline to develop expertise in the same. As such, linear
algebra is an integral part of the syllabus at the undergraduate level. Indeed, a very
significant and essential part (Chaps. 1–5) of linear algebra covered in this volume
does not require any background material from Volume 1 of the book except some
amount of set theory. General linear algebra over rings, Galois theory, represen-
tation theory of groups, and the theory of group extensions follow linear algebra,
and indeed these are parts of the syllabus for the second- and the third-year students
of most of the universities. As such, this volume together with the first volume may
serve as a basic text for the first-, second-, and third-year courses in algebra.
The third volume of the book contains 10 chapters, and it can act as a text for
graduate and advance graduate students specializing in mathematics. This includes
commutative algebra, basics in algebraic geometry, semi-simple Lie algebras,
advance representation theory, and Chevalley groups. The table of contents gives an
idea of the subject matter covered in the book.
There is no prerequisite essential for the book except, occasionally, in some
illustrations and exercises, some amount of calculus, geometry, or topology may be
needed. An attempt to follow the logical ordering has been made throughout
the book.
My teacher (Late) Prof. B.L. Sharma, my colleague at the University of
Allahabad, my friend Dr. H.S. Tripathi, my students Prof. R.P. Shukla, Prof.
Shivdatt, Dr. Brajesh Kumar Sharma, Mr. Swapnil Srivastava, Dr. Akhilesh Yadav,
Dr. Vivek Jain, Dr. Vipul Kakkar, and above all, the mathematics students of the
University of Allahabad had always been the motivating force for me to write a
book. Without their continuous insistence, it would have not come in the present
form. I wish to express my warmest thanks to all of them.
Harish-Chandra Research Institute (HRI), Allahabad, has always been a great
source for me to learn more and more mathematics. I wish to express my deep sense
of appreciation and thanks to HRI for providing me all infrastructural facilities to
write these volumes.
Last but not least, I wish to express my thanks to my wife Veena Srivastava who
had always been helpful in this endeavor.
In spite of all care, some mistakes and misprints might have crept in and escaped
my attention. I shall be grateful to any such attention. Criticisms and suggestions for
the improvement of the book will be appreciated and gratefully acknowledged.

Allahabad, India Ramji Lal

April 2017
 Contents

1 Vector Spaces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.1 Concept of a Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.2 Concept of a Vector Space (Linear Space) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
1.3 Subspaces. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
1.4 Basis and Dimension . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
1.5 Direct Sum of Vector Spaces, Quotient of a Vector Space . . . . 23
2 Matrices and Linear Equations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
2.1 Matrices and Their Algebra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
2.2 Types of Matrices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
2.3 System of Linear Equations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
2.4 Gauss Elimination, Elementary Operations, Rank,
and Nullity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
2.5 LU Factorization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
2.6 Equivalence of Matrices, Normal Form . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
2.7 Congruent Reduction of Symmetric Matrices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
3 Linear Transformations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
3.1 Definition and Examples . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
3.2 Isomorphism Theorems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
3.3 Space of Linear Transformations, Dual Spaces . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
3.4 Rank and Nullity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
3.5 Matrix Representations of Linear Transformations . . . . . . . . . . . 85
3.6 Effect of Change of Bases on Matrix Representation . . . . . . . . . 88
4 Inner Product Spaces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
4.1 Definition, Examples, and Basic Properties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
4.2 Gram–Schmidt Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
4.3 Orthogonal Projection, Shortest Distance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
4.4 Isometries and Rigid Motions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
5 Determinants and Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
5.1 Determinant of a Matrix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
5.2 Permutations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135
5.3 Alternating Forms, Determinant of an Endomorphism . . . . . . . . 139
5.4 Invariant Subspaces, Eigenvalues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150
5.5 Spectral Theorem, and Orthogonal Reduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
5.6 Bilinear and Quadratic Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
6 Canonical Forms, Jordan and Rational Forms. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
6.1 Concept of a Module over a Ring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
6.2 Modules over P.I.D . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
6.3 Rational and Jordan Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214
7 General Linear Algebra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
7.1 Noetherian Rings and Modules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
7.2 Free, Projective, and Injective Modules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
7.3 Tensor Product and Exterior Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250
7.4 Lower K-theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258
8 Field Theory, Galois Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
8.1 Field Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
8.2 Galois Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
8.3 Splitting Field, Normal Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284
8.4 Separable Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294
8.5 Fundamental Theorem of Galois Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305
8.6 Cyclotomic Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
8.7 Geometric Constructions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318
8.8 Galois Theory of Equation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324
9 Representation Theory of Finite Groups . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331
9.1 Semi-simple Rings and Modules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331
9.2 Representations and Group Algebras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 346
9.3 Characters, Orthogonality Relations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351
9.4 Induced Representations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361
10 Group Extensions and Schur Multiplier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367
10.1 Schreier Group Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 368
10.2 Obstructions and Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 391
10.3 Central Extensions, Schur Multiplier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 398
10.4 Lower K-Theory Revisited . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 418
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 427
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 429
 Notation Algebra 1

h ai Cyclic subgroup generated by a, p. 122

a/b a divides b, p. 57
a*b a is an associate of b, p. 57
At The transpose of a matrix A, p. 200
AH The hermitian conjugate of a matrix A, p. 215
Aut(G) The automorphism group of G, p. 105
An The alternating group of degree n, p. 175
Bðn; RÞ Borel subgroup, p. 187
CG ðH Þ The centralizer of H in G, p. 159
C The field of complex numbers, p. 78
Dn The dihedral group of order 2n, p. 90
det Determinant map, p. 191
End(G) Semigroup of endomorphisms of G, p. 105
f(A) Image of A under the map f, p. 34
f −1(B) Inverse image of B under the map f, p. 34
f |Y Restriction of the map f to Y, p. 30
Eij‚ Transvections, p. 200
Fit(G) Fitting subgroup, p. 353
g.c.d. Greatest common divisor, p. 58
g.l.b. Greatest lower bound, or inf, p. 40
G=l HðG=r HÞ The set of left(right) cosets of G mod H, p. 135
G/H The quotient group of G modulo H, p. 151
½G : H  The index of H in G, p. 135
jGj Order of G, p. 331
G0 ¼ ½G; G Commutator subgroup of G, p. 403
Gn nth term of the derived series of G, p. 345
GLðn; RÞ General linear group, p. 186
IX Identity map on X, p. 30
iY Inclusion map from Y, p. 30
Inn(G) The group of inner automorphisms, p. 407
ker f The kernel of the map f, p. 35
Ln ðGÞ nth term of the lower central series of G, p. 281
l.c.m. Least common multiple, p. 58
l.u.b. Least upper bound, or sup, p. 40
Mn(R) The ring of n  n matrices with entries in R, p. 350
N Natural number system, p. 21
NG ðH Þ Normalizer of H in G, p. 159
O(n) Orthogonal group, p. 197
O(1, n) Lorentz orthogonal group, p. 201
PSO(1, n) Positive special Lorentz orthogonal group, p. 201
Q The field of rational numbers, p. 74
Q8 The quaternion group, p. 88
R The field of real numbers, p. 75
R(G) Radical of G, p. 346
Sn Symmetric group of degree n, p. 88
Sym(X) Symmetric group on X, p. 88
S3 The group of unit quaternions, p. 92
h Si Subgroup generated by a subset S, p. 116
SLðn; RÞ Special linear group, p. 196
SO(n) Special orthogonal group, p. 197
SO(1, n) Special Lorentz orthogonal group, p. 201
SPð2n; RÞ Symplectic group, p. 202
SU(n) Special unitary group, p. 202
U(n) Unitary group, p. 202
Um Group of prime residue classes modulo m, p. 100
V4 Kleins four group, p. 102
X/R The quotient set of X modulo R, p. 36
Rx Equivalence class modulo R determined by x, p. 27
X+ Successor of X, p. 20
XY The set of maps from Y to X, p. 34
 Proper subset, p. 14
}ðXÞ
Qn Power set of X, p. 19
k¼1 Gk Direct product of groups Gk ; 1  k  n, p. 142
/ Normal subgroup, p. 147
// Subnormal subgroup, p. 332
Z(G) Center of G, p. 108
Zm The ring of residue classes modulo m, p. 256
p(n) The number of partition of n, p. 172
HK Semidirect product of H with K, p. 204
pffiffiffi
A Radical of an ideal A, p. 286
R(G) Semigroup ring of a ring R over a semigroup G, p. 238
R[X] Polynomial ring over the ring R in one variable, p. 240
R½X1 ; X2 ;    ; Xn  Polynomial ring in several variables, p. 247
„ The Mobius function, p. 256

 Sum of divisor function, p. 256
a Legendre symbol, p. 280
p
Stab(G, X) Stabilizer of an action of G on X, p. 295
Gx Isotropy subgroup of an action of G at x, p. 295
XG Fixed point set of an action of G on X, p. 296
Zn(G) nth term of the upper central series of G, p. 351
ΦðGÞ The Frattini subgroup of G, p. 355
 Notation Algebra 2

B2 ðK; HÞ Group of 2 co-boundaries with given , p. 385

C(A) Column space of A, p. 42
Ch(G, K) Set of characters from G to K, p. 278
Ch(G) Character ring of G, p. 350
dim(V) Dimension of V, p. 18
EXT Category of Schreier group extensions, p. 368
E(H, K) The set of equivalence classes of extensions of H by K, p. 376
E1 ] E2 Baer sum of extensions, p. 388
EXT ˆ ðH; KÞ Set of equivalence classes of extensions associated to abstract
kernel ˆ, p. 384
E(V) Exterior algebra of V, p. 257
FACS Category of factor systems, p. 375
F(X) The fixed field of a set of automorphism of a field, p. 275
G(L/K) The Galois group of the field extension L of K, p. 275
G^G Non-abelian exterior square of a group G, p. 413

K Algebraic closure of K, p. 289
H2 ðK; HÞ Second cohomology with given , p. 385
K0 ð RÞ Grothendieck group of the ring R, p. 257
K1 ð RÞ Whitehead group of the ring R, p. 260
KSL Separable closure of K in L, p. 295
L/K Field extension L of K, p. 262
mT ð X Þ Minimum polynomial of linear transformation T, p. 212
minK ðfi ÞðXÞ Minimum polynomial of fi over the field K, p. 265
M(V) Group of rigid motion on V, p. 122
M R N Tensor product of R-modules M and N, p. 250
NL=K Norm map from L to K, p. 279
N(A) Null space of A, p. 41
ObsðˆÞ Obstruction of the abstract kernel ˆ, p. 393
R(A) Row space of A, p. 42
St(R) Steinberg group, p. 422
Symr ðVÞ rth symmetric power of V, p. 345
T L=K Trace map from L to K, p. 314
T(V) Tensor algebra of V, p. 257
TS Semi-simple part of T, p. 219
Tn Nilpotent part of T, p. 220
Z 2 ðK; HÞ Group of 2 co-cycles with given , p. 385
Vr
V rth exterior power of V, p. 255
ΨE Abstract kernel associated to the extension E, p. 377
‰ · Direct sum of representations ‰ and ·, p. 345
‰· Tensor product of representations ‰ and ·, p. 345
Symr ‰ rth symmetric power of the representation ‰, p. 345
SF(L/K)
Vr Set of all intermediary fields of L/K, p. 275
‰ rth exterior power of the representation ‰, p. 345
´‰ Character afforded by the representation ‰, p. 350
`n ðXÞ nth cyclotomic polynomial, p. 311
`A ðXÞ Characteristic polynomial of A, p. 149
Chapter 1
Vector Spaces

This chapter is devoted to the structure theory of vector spaces over arbitrary fields.
In essence, a vector space is a structure in which we can perform all basic operations
of vector algebra, can talk of lines, planes, and linear equations. The basic motivating
examples on which we shall dwell are the Euclidean 3-space R3 over R in which
we live, the Minkowski Space R4 of events (in which the first three coordinates
represent the place and the fourth coordinate represents the time of the occurrence
of the event), and also the space of matrices.

1.1 Concept of a Field

Rings and fields have been introduced and studied in Algebra 1. However, to make the
linear algebra part (Chaps. 1–5) of this volume independent of Algebra 1, we recall,
quickly, the concept of a field and its basic properties. Field is an algebraic structure
in which we can perform all arithmetical operations, viz., addition, subtraction, mul-
tiplication, and division by nonzero members. The basic motivating examples are the
structure Q of rational numbers, the structure R of real numbers, and the structure
C of complex numbers with usual operations. The precise definition of a field is as
follows:
Definition 1.1.1 A Field is a triple (F, +, ·), where F is a set, + and · are two
internal binary operations, called the addition and the multiplication on F, such that
the following hold:
1. (F, +) is an abelian Group in the following sense:
(i) The operation + is associative in the sense that
(a + b) + c = a + (b + c) for all a, b, c ∈ F.
(ii) The operation + is commutative in the sense that
(a + b) = (b + a) for all a, b ∈ F.
2 1 Vector Spaces

(iii) There is a unique element 0 ∈ F, called the zero of F, such that

a + 0 = a = 0 + a for all a ∈ F.
(iv) For all a ∈ F, there is a unique element −a ∈ F, called the negative of a,
such that
a + (−a) = 0 = −a + a.
2. (i) The operation · is associative in the sense that
(a · b) · c = a · (b · c) for all a, b, c ∈ F.
(ii) The operation · is commutative in the sense that
(a · b) = (b · a) for all a, b ∈ F.
3. The operation · distributes over + in the sense that
(i) a · (b + c) = a · b + a · c, and
(ii) (a + b) · c = a · c + b · c for all a, b, c ∈ F.
4. (i) There is a unique element 1 ∈ F − {0}, called the one of F, such that
1 · a = a = a · 1 for all a ∈ F.
(ii) For all a ∈ F − {0}, there is a unique element a−1 ∈ F, called the multiplicative
inverse of a, such that
a · a−1 = 1 = a−1 · a.
Before having some examples, let us observe some simple facts:
Proposition 1.1.2 Let (F, +, ·) be a field.
(i) The cancellation law holds for the addition + in F in the sense that (a + b =
a + c) implies b = c. In turn, (b + a = c + a) implies b = c.
(ii) a · 0 = 0 = 0 · a for all a ∈ F.
(iii) a · (−b) = −(a · b) = (−a) · b for all a, b ∈ F.
(iv) The restricted cancellation for the multiplication in F holds in the sense that
(a = 0 and a · b = a · c) implies b = c. In turn, (a = 0 and b · a = c ·
a) implies b = c.
(v) (a · b = 0) implies that (a = 0 or b = 0).

Proof (i) Suppose that a + b = a + c. Then b = 0 + b = (−a + a) + b =

−a + (a + b) = −a + (a + c) = (−a + a) + c = 0 + c = c.
(ii) 0 + a · 0 = a · 0 = a · (0 + 0) = a · 0 + a · 0. Using the cancellation for +,
we get that 0 = a · 0. Similarly, 0 = 0 · a.
(iii) 0 = a · 0 = a · (b + (−b)) = a · b + a · (−b). It follows that a · (−b) =
−(a · b). Similarly, the other part follows.
(iv) Suppose that a = 0 and a · b = a · c. Then b = 1 · b = (a−1 · a) · b =
a−1 · (a · b) = a−1 · (a · c) = (a−1 · a) · c = 1 · c = c. Similarly, the other part
follows.
(v) Suppose that (a · b = 0). If a = 0, there is nothing to do. Suppose that a = 0.
Then a · b = 0 = a · 0. From (iv), it follows that b = 0. 

Integral Multiples and the Integral Powers of Elements of a Field

Let a ∈ F. For each natural number n, we define the multiple na inductively as fol-
lows: Define 1a = a. Assuming that na is defined, define (n + 1)a = na + a.
1.1 Concept of a Field 3

Thus, for a natural number n, na = a + a +· · · + a. We define 0a = 0. Further,

ntimes
if m = −n is a negative integer, then we define ma = n(−a). Thus, for a negative
integer m = −n, ma = −a + (−a) + · · · + (−a). This defines the integral multi-
  
ntimes
ple na for each integer n. Similarly, we define all integral powers of a nonzero element
a of F as follows: Define a1 = a. Assuming that an has already been defined, define
an+1 = an · a. This defines all positive integral powers of a. Define a0 = 1, and
for negative integer n = −m, define an = (a−1 )m . The following law of exponents
follow immediately by the induction.
(i) (n + m)a = na + ma for all n, m ∈ Z.
(ii) (nm)a = n(ma) for all n, m ∈ Z.
(iii) an+m = an · am for all a ∈ F − {0}, and n, m ∈ Z.
(iv) anm = (an )m for all a ∈ F − {0}, and n, m ∈ Z.
Examples of Fields
Example 1.1.3 The rational number system Q, the real number system R, and the
complex number system C with usual addition and multiplications are basic examples
of a field.
√ √
Example 1.1.4 Consider F = Q( 2) = {a + b 2 | a, b ∈ Q}. √ The addition and
multiplication
√ in R induce the corresponding operations in Q( 2). We claim that
Q( 2) is a field with respect to the induced operations. All the defining properties of
a field are consequences of the corresponding√properties in R except, perhaps, 4(ii)
which we verify. Let a, b ∈ Q such that a + b 2 = 0. We claim that a2 − 2b2 = 0.
Suppose not. Then a2 − 2b2 = 0. In turn,√b = 0 (and so also a = 0), otherwise,
( ab )2 = 2, a contradiction to the fact that 2 is not a rational number. Thus, then
√
−b
√ √
a+b 2
1√
= a 2 −2b2 = a2 −2b2 + a2 −2b2
a−b 2 a
2 is in Q( 2).

Remark 1.1.5 There is nothing special about 2 in the above example, indeed, we can
take any prime, or for that matter any rational number in place of 2 which is not a
square of a rational number.

So far all the examples of fields are infinite. Now, we give an example of a finite
field.
Let p be a positive prime integer. Consider the set Zp = {1, 2, . . . , p − 1} of
residue classes modulo a prime p. Clearly, a = r, where r is the remainder obtained
when a is divided by p. The usual addition ⊕ modulo p, and the multiplication 
modulo p are given by
i ⊕ j = i + j, i, j ∈ Z,

and
i  j = i · j, i, j ∈ Z
4 1 Vector Spaces

For example, in Z11 , 6 ⊕ 7 = 13 = 2. Similarly, the product 6  7 = 42 = 9.

We have the following proposition.
Proposition 1.1.6 For any prime p, the triple (Zp , ⊕, ) introduced above is a field
containing p elements.

Proof Clearly, 1 is the identity with respect to . We verify only the postulate 4(ii)
in the definition of a field. The rest of the postulates are almost evident, and can be
verified easily. In fact, we give an algorithm (using Euclidean Algorithm) to find the
multiplicative inverse of a nonzero element i ∈ Zp . Let i ∈ Zp − {0}. Then p does
not divide i. Since p is prime, the greatest common divisor of i and p is 1. Using the
Euclidean algorithm, we can find integers b and c such that

1 = i · b + p · c.

Thus, 1 = i · b = i  b. It follows that b is the inverse of i with respect to . 

The above proof is algorithmic and gives an algorithm to find the multiplicative
inverse of nonzero elements in Zp .
Definition 1.1.7 Let (F, +, ·) be a field. A subset L of F is called a subfield of F
if the following hold:
(i) 0 ∈ L.
(ii) If a, b ∈ L, then a + b ∈ L and a · b ∈ L.
(iii) 1 ∈ L.
(iv) For all a ∈ L, −a ∈ L.
(v) For all a ∈ L − {0}, a−1 ∈ L.
Thus, a subfield L of a field F is also a field at its own right with respect to the
induced operations. The field F is a subfield of itself. This subfield is called the
improper subfield of F. Other √ subfields are called proper subfields. The set Q of
rational numbers, the set Q( 2) described in Example 1.1.4, are proper subfields of
the field R of real numbers. The field R of real numbers is a subfield of the field C
of complex numbers.
Proposition 1.1.8 The field Q of rational numbers, and the field Zp have no proper
subfields.

Proof We first show that Q has no proper subfields. Let L be a subfield of Q. Then
by the Definition 1.1.7(iii), 1 ∈ L. Again, by (ii), n = 1 + 1 +· · · + 1 belongs to
n
L for all natural numbers n. Thus, by (iv), all integers are in L. By (v), n1 ∈ L for
all nonzero integers n. By (ii), mn ∈ L for all integers m, n; n = 0. This shows that
L = Q.
1.1 Concept of a Field 5

Next, let L be a subfield of Zp . Then by the Definition 1.1.7(iii), 1 ∈ L. By (ii),

i = 1 ⊕ 1 ⊕  · · · ⊕ 1 belongs to L for all i ∈ Zp . This shows that L = Zp . 
i

We shall see that, essentially, these are the only fields which have no proper
subfields. Such fields are called prime fields.
Homomorphisms and Isomorphisms Between Fields
Definition 1.1.9 Let F1 and F2 be fields. A map f from F1 to F2 is called a
fieldhomomorphism if the following conditions hold:
(i) f (a + b) = f (a) + f (b) for all a, b ∈ F1 (note that + in the LHS is the
addition of F1 , and that in RHS is the addition of F2 ).
(ii) f (a · b) = f (a) · f (b) for all a, b ∈ F1 (again · in the LHS is the multiplication
of F1 , and that in RHS is the multiplication of F2 ).
(iii) f (1) = 1, where 1 in the LHS denotes the multiplicative identity of F1 , and 1
in RHS denotes the multiplicative identity of F2 .
A bijective homomorphism is called an isomorphism. A field F1 is said to be
isomorphic a field F2 if there is an isomorphism from F1 to F2 .
We do not distinguish isomorphic fields.
Proposition 1.1.10 Let f be a homomorphism from a field F1 to a field F2 . Then,
the following hold.
(i) f (0) = 0, where 0 in the LHS is the zero of F1 , and 0 in the RHS is the zero of
F2 .
(ii) f (−a) = −f (a) for all a ∈ F1 .
(iii) f (na) = nf (a) for all a ∈ F1 , and for all integer n.
(iv) f (an ) = (f (a))n for all a ∈ F1 − {0}, and for all integer n.
(v) f is injective, and the image of F1 under f is a subfield of F2 which is isomorphic
to F1 .

Proof (i) 0 + f (0) = f (0) = f (0 + 0) = f (0) + f (0). Using cancellation law

for addition in F2 , we get that f (0) = 0.
(ii) 0 = f (0) = f (a + (−a)) = f (a) + f (−a). This shows that f (−a) = −f (a).
(iii) Suppose that n = 0. Then 0f (a) = 0 = f (0) = f (0a). Clearly, f (1a) =
f (a) = 1f (a). Assume that f (na) = nf (a) for a natural number n. Then f (n +
1)a = f (na + a) = f (na) + f (a) = nf (a) + f (a) = (n + 1)f (a). By induction,
it follows that f (na) = nf (a) for all a ∈ F1 , and for all natural number n. Suppose
that n = −m is a negative integer. Then, f (na) = f ((−m)a) = f (−(ma)) =
−f (ma) = −(mf (a)) = −(m)f (a) = nf (a).
(iv) Replacing na by an , imitate the proof of (iii).
(v) Suppose that a = b. Then (a − b) = 0. Now, 1 = f (1) = f ((a − b)(a −
b)−1 ) = f (a − b)f ((a − b)−1 ). Since 1 = 0, it follows that (f (a) − f (b)) =
f (a − b) = 0. This shows that f (a) = f (b). Thus, f is injective, and it can be real-
ized as a bijective map from F1 to f (F1 ). It is sufficient, therefore, to show that
f (F1 ) is a subfield of F2 . Clearly, 0 = f (0), and 1 = f (1) belong to f (F1 ). Let
6 1 Vector Spaces

f (a), f (b) ∈ f (F1 ), where a, b ∈ F1 . Then (f (a) + f (b)) = f (a + b) ∈ f (F1 ),

and also (f (a)f (b)) = f (ab) ∈ f (F1 ). Finally, if f (a) = 0, then a ∈ F1 − {0}. But,
then (f (a))−1 = f (a−1 ) ∈ F1 . 
Characteristic of a Field
Let F be a field. Consider the multiplicative identity 1 of F. There are two cases:
(i) Distinct integral multiples of 1 are distinct, or equivalently, n1 = m1 implies that
n = m. This is equivalent to say that n1 = 0 if and only if n = 0. In this case we
say that F is of characteristic 0. Thus, for example, the field R of real numbers,
the field Q of rational numbers, and the field C of complex numbers are the fields
of characteristic 0.
(ii) Not all integral multiples of 1 are distinct. In this case there exists a pair n, m of
distinct integers such that n1 = m1. But, then, (n − m)1 = 0 = (m − n)1.
In turn, there is a natural number l such that l1 = 0. In this case, the smallest
natural number l such that l1 = 0 is called the characteristic of F. Thus, the
characteristic of Zp is p.
Proposition 1.1.11 The characteristic of a field is either 0 or a prime number p.
A field of characteristic 0 contains a subfield isomorphic to the field Q of rational
numbers, and a field of characteristic p contains a subfield isomorphic to the field
Zp .
Proof Suppose that F is a field of characteristic 0. Then n1 = m1 implies that n = m.
Also (m1 = 0) if and only if (m = 0). Suppose that ( mn = rs ). Then (m1)(s1) =
ms1 = nr1 = (n1)(r1). In turn, ((m1)(n1)−1 = (r1)(s1)−1 ). Thus, we have a map
f from Q to F given by f ( mn ) = (m1)(n1)−1 . Next, suppose that ((m1)(n1)−1 =
(r1)(s1)−1 ). Then ms1 = (m1)(s1) = (n1)(r1) = nr1. This means that ms = nr,
or equivalently, ( mn = rs ). This shows that f is an injective map. It is also straight
forward to verify that f is a field homomorphism. Thus, L = {(m1)(n1)−1 | m ∈
Z, n ∈ Z − {0}} is a subfield of F which is isomorphic to Q.
Next, suppose that the characteristic of F is l = 0. Then l is the smallest natural
number such that l1 = 0. We show that l is a prime p. Suppose not. Then l =
l1 l2 , 1 < l1 < l, 1 < l2 < l. But, then 0 = l1 = (l1 l2 )1 = (l1 1)(l2 1). In turn,
l1 1 = 0 or l2 1 = 0. This is a contradiction to the choice of l. Thus, the characteristic
of F is a prime p. Suppose that i = j. Then p divides i − j. In turn, (i − j)1 = 0,
and so i1 = j1. Thus, we have a map f from Zp to F defined by f (i) = i1. Clearly,
this is an injective field homomorphism. 
Exercises
1.1.1 Show that Q(ω) = {a + bω | a, b ∈ Q}, where ω a primitive cube root of
1, is a subfield of the field C of complex numbers.
√ √
1.1.2 Show that 2 is not a member of Q( 2). Use the method
 of Example 1.1.4
√ √ √ √ √
to show that Q( 2)( 2) = {a + b 2 + (c + d 2)( 2) | a, b, c, d ∈ Q}
is a field with respect to the addition and multiplication induced by those in R.
Generalize the assertion.
1.1 Concept of a Field 7
√ √ √ √ √
1.1.3 Show that Q( 2)( 3) = {a + b 2 + (c + d 2)( 3) | a, b, c, d ∈ Q}
is a field with respect to the addition and multiplication induced by those in R.
1 1 2
1.1.4 Show that Q(2 3 ) = {a + b2 3 + c2 3 | a, b, c ∈ Q} is also a field with
respect to the addition and multiplication induced by those in R. Express 1 1 as
1+2 3
1 2
a + b2 3 + c2 3 , a, b, c ∈ Q.

1.1.5 Show that F = {0, 1, α, α2 } is a field of characteristic 2 with respect to the

addition + and multiplication · given by the following tables:

+ 0 1 α α2
0 0 1 α α2
1 1 0 α2 α
α α α2 0 1
α2 α2 α 1 0

· 0 1 α α2
0 0 0 0 0
1 0 1 α α2
α 0 α α2 1
α2 0 α2 1 α

1.1.6 Find the multiplicative inverse of 20 in Z257 , and also find the solution of
10x ⊕ 2 = 3.

1.1.7 Write a program in C++ language to check if a natural number n is prime, and
if so to find the multiplicative inverse of a nonzero element m in Zn . Find the output
4
with n = 22 + 1, and m = 641.

1.2 Concept of a Vector Space (Linear Space)

Consider the space (called the Euclidean 3-space) in which we live. If we fix a point
(place) in the three space as origin together with three mutually perpendicular lines
(directions) passing through the origin as the axes of reference, and also a segment of
line as a unit of length, then any point in the 3-space determines, and it is determined
uniquely by an ordered triple (α, β, γ) of real numbers.
8 1 Vector Spaces

P (α, β, γ)

O
Y

X
Thus, with the given choice of the origin and the axes as above, the space in which
we live can be represented faithfully by

R3 = {x = (x1 , x2 , x3 ) | x1 , x2 , x3 ∈ R},

and it is called the Euclidean 3-space. The members of R3 are called the usual 3-
vectors. It is also evident that the physical quantities which have magnitudes as well
as directions (e.g., force, velocity, or displacement) can be represented by vectors.
More generally, for a fixed natural number n,

Rn = {x = (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ) | x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ∈ R}

is called the Euclidean n-space, and the members of the Euclidean n-space are called
the Euclidean n-vectors. We term x1 , x2 , . . . , xn as components, or coordinates of
the vector x = (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ). Thus, R2 represents the Euclidean plane, and R4
represents the Minkowski space of events in which the first three coordinates rep-
resent the place, and the fourth coordinate represents the time of the occurrence of
the event. R1 is identified with R. By convention, R0 = {0} is a single point. We have
the addition + in Rn , called the addition of vectors, and it is defined by

x + y = (x1 + y1 , x2 + y2 , . . . , xn + yn ),

where x = (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ) and y = (y1 , y2 , . . . , yn ). We have also the external

multiplication · by the members of R, called the multiplication by scalars, and it is
given by
α · x = (αx1 , αx2 , . . . , αxn ), α ∈ R.
1.2 Concept of a Vector Space (Linear Space) 9

Remark 1.2.1 The addition + of vectors in 3-space R3 is the usual addition of vectors,
which obeys the parallelogram law of addition.

The Euclidean 3-space (R3 , +, ·) introduced above is a Vector Space in the

sense of the following definition:
Definition 1.2.2 A Vector Space (also called a Linear Space) over a field F (called
the field of Scalars) is a triple (V, +, ·), where V is a set, + is an internal binary
operation on V , called the addition of vectors, and · : F × V → V is an external
multiplication, called the multiplication by scalars, such that the following hold:
A. (V, +) is an abelian group in the sense that:
1. + is associative, i.e.,
(x + y) + z = x + (y + z)

for all x, y, z in V .
2. + is commutative, i.e.,
x+y = y+x

for all x, y in V .
3. We have a unique vector 0 in V , called the null vector, and it is such that

x+0 = x = 0+x

for all x in V .
4. For each x in V , we have a unique vector −x in V , called the negative of x, and
it is such that
x + (−x) = 0 = (−x) + x.

B. The external multiplication · by scalars satisfies the following conditions:

1. It distributes over the vector addition + in the sense that

α · (x + y) = α · x + α · y

for all α ∈ F and x, y in V .

2. It distributes over the addition of scalars also in the sense that

(α + β) · x = α · x + β · x

for all α, β ∈ F and x in V .

3. (αβ) · x = α · (β · x) for all α, β ∈ F and x in V .
4. 1 · x = x for all x in V .

Example 1.2.3 Let F be a field, and n be a natural number. Consider the set

V = F n = {x = (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ) | x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ∈ F}
10 1 Vector Spaces

of row vectors with n columns, and with entries in F. We have the addition + in F n
defined by

x + y = (x1 + y1 , x2 + y2 , . . . , xn + yn ),

where x = (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ) and y = (y1 , y2 , . . . , yn ). We have also the external

multiplication · by the members of F defined by

α · x = (αx1 , αx2 , . . . , αxn ), α ∈ F.

The field properties of F ensures that the triple (F n , + ·) is a vector space over F.
The zero of the vector space is the zero row 0 = (0, 0, . . . , 0), and the negative of
x = (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ) is −x = (−x1 , −x2 , . . . , −xn ). We can also treat the members
of F n as column vectors.

Example 1.2.4 Let L be a subfield of a field F. Consider (F, +, ·), where + is the
addition of the field F, and · is the restriction of the multiplication in F to L × F.
Then it is evident that (F, +, ·) is a vector space over L. Thus, every field can be
considered as vector spaces over its subfields.

Example 1.2.5 Let C[0, 1] denote the set of all real valued continuous functions on
the closed interval [0, 1]. Since sum of any two continuous functions is a continuous
function, we have an addition on C[0, 1] with respect to which it is an abelian group.
Define the external multiplication · by (a · f )(x) = a · f (x). Then C[0, 1] is a vector
space over the field R of reals. Note that the set D[0, 1] of differentiable functions is
also a vector space over the field R of reals with respect to the addition of functions,
and multiplication by scalars as defined above.

Example 1.2.6 Let Pn (F) denote the set of all polynomials of degree at most n over
a field F. Then Pn (F) is an abelian group with respect to the addition of polynomials.
Further, if a ∈ F and f (X) ∈ Pn (F), then af (X) ∈ Pn (F). Thus, Pn (F) is also a vector
space over F.

Proposition 1.2.7 Let V be a vector space over a field F. Then the following hold:
(i) The cancellation law holds in (V, +) in the sense that (x + y = x +
z) implies y = z (In turn, (y + x = z + x) implies y = z).
(ii) 0 · x = 0, where 0 in the left side is the 0 of F, 0 on right side is that of V , and
x ∈ V.
(iii) α · 0 = 0, where both 0 are that of V , and α ∈ F.
(iv) (−α) · x = −(α · x) for all α ∈ F, and x ∈ V . In particular, (−1) · x = −x.
(v) (α · x = 0) implies that (α = 0 or x = 0).

Proof (i) Suppose that (x + y = x + z). Then y = 0 + y = (−x + x) + y =

−x + (x + y) = −x + (x + z) = (−x + x) + z = 0 + z = z.
(ii) 0 + 0 · x = 0 · x = (0 + 0) · x = 0 · x + 0 · x. By the cancellation in (V, +),
1.2 Concept of a Vector Space (Linear Space) 11

0 = 0 · x.
(iii) 0 + α · 0 = α · 0 = α · (0 + 0) = α · 0 + α · 0. By the cancellation in
(V, +), 0 = α · 0.
(iv) 0 = 0 · x = (−α + α) · x = (−α) · x + α · x. This shows that (−α) · x =
−(α · x)
(v) Suppose that (α · x = 0), and α = 0. Then, x = 1 · x = (α−1 α) · x = α−1 ·
(α · x) = α−1 · 0 = 0. 

1.3 Subspaces

Definition 1.3.1 Let V be a vector space over a field F. A subset W of V is called

a subspace, or a linear subspace of V if
(i) 0 ∈ W .
(ii) x + y ∈ W for all x, y ∈ W .
(iii) α · x ∈ W for all α ∈ F and x ∈ W .

Thus, a subspace is also a vector space over the same field at its own right.
Proposition 1.3.2 Let V be a vector space over a field F. Then a nonempty subset
W of V is a subspace if and only if ax + by ∈ W for all a, b ∈ F, and x, y ∈ V .

Proof Suppose that W is a subspace of V . Let a, b ∈ F, and x, y ∈ V . From the Defi-

nition 1.3.1(i), ax, by ∈ W . In turn, by Definition 1.3.1(ii), ax + by ∈ W . Conversely,
suppose that W is a nonempty subset of V such that ax + by ∈ W for all a, b ∈ F,
and for all x, y ∈ W . Let x, y ∈ W . Then x + y = 1x + 1y belongs to W . Further,
since W is nonempty, there is an element x ∈ W , and then 0 = 0x + 0x belongs
to W . Also for x ∈ W , and a ∈ F, ax = ax + 0x ∈ W . This shows that W is a
subspace of V . 

Example 1.3.3 Let V be a vector space over a field F. Then V is clearly a subspace of
V , and it is called an improper subspace of V . The singleton {0} is also a subspace
of V , and it is called the trivial subspace of V . Other subspaces of V are called
Proper subspaces of V .

Example 1.3.4 (Subspaces of R2 over R) Let W be a nontrivial subspace of R2 .

Then there is a nonzero element (l, m) ∈ W . Since W is a subspace, α · (l, m) =
(αl, αm) ∈ W for all α ∈ R. Thus, Wlm = {(αl, αm) | α ∈ R} ⊆ W . Wlm is easily
seen to be a subspace of R2 . Indeed, Wlm is the line in the plane R2 passing through
origin and the point (l, m). Note that all lines in R2 are of this type. Suppose that
W = Wlm . Then there is a nonzero element (p, q) in W − Wlm . We claim that
ql − pm = 0. Suppose that ql − pm = 0. Since (l, m) = (0, 0), l = 0 or m = 0.
Suppose that l = 0. Then, (p, q) = ( pl l, pl m) turns out to be in Wlm , a contradiction
to the choice of (p, q). Similarly, if m = 0, then (p, q) = ( mq l, mq m), a contradiction.
Now, let (a, b) be an arbitrary member of R2 . Since ql − pm = 0, we can solve the
12 1 Vector Spaces

pair of equations αl + βp = a and αm + βq = b. In other words, (a, b) =

α(l, m) + β(p, q) belongs to W , and so W = R2 . This shows that only proper
subspaces of R2 are the lines passing through origin.

Example 1.3.5 (Subspaces of R3 over R) As in the above example, lines and planes
passing through origin are proper subspaces of R3 over R. Indeed, they are the only
proper subspaces.

Proposition 1.3.6 Intersection of a family of subspaces is a subspace.

Proof Let {Wα | α ∈ } be a family of subspaces of a vector space V over F. Then

0 ∈ Wα for all α, and so 0 belongs to the intersection of the family. Thus, the
intersection of the given family is nonempty. Let x, y ∈ α∈ Wα , and a, b ∈ F.
Then x, y ∈ Wα for all α. Since each Wα is a subspace, ax + by ∈ Wα for all α.
Hence ax + by belongs to the intersection. This shows that the intersection of the
family is a subspace. 

Proposition
 1.3.7 Union of subspaces need not be a subspace. Indeed, the union
W1 W2 of two subspaces is a subspace if and only if W1 ⊆ W2 or W2 ⊆ W1 .

Proof If W1 ⊆ W2 , then W1 W2 = W2 a subspace. Similarly,  if W2 ⊆ W1 , then
also the union is a subspace. Conversely, suppose that W1 W2 is a subspace and W1
is not a subset ofW2 . Then there is an element x ∈W1 which is not in W2 . Let y ∈ W2 .
Then, since W1 W2 is a subspace, x + y ∈ W1 W2 . Now x + y does not belong to
W2 , for otherwise x = (x + y) − y will be in W2 , a contradiction to the supposition.
Hence x + y ∈ W1 . Since x ∈ W1 and W1 is subspace, y = −x + (x + y) belongs
to W1 . This shows that W2 ⊆ W1 . 

Proposition 1.3.8 Let W1 and W2 be subspaces of a vector space V over a field F.

Then W1 + W2 = {x + y | x ∈ W1 , y ∈ W2 } is also a subspace
 (called the sum of
W1 and W2 ) which is the smallest subspace containing W1 W2 .

Proof Since 0 ∈ W2 , x ∈ W1 implies that x = x + 0 ∈ W1 + W2 . Thus,  W1 ⊆

W1 + W2 . Similarly, W2 ⊆ W1 + W2 . Also, if L is a subspace containing W1 W2 ,
then x + y ∈ L for all x ∈ W1 , and y ∈ W2 . Therefore, it is sufficient to show that
W1 + W2 is a subspace. Clearly, W1 + W2 = ∅. Let x + y and u + v belong to W1 +
W2 , where x, u ∈ W1 , and y, v ∈ W2 . Since W1 and W2 are subspaces, αx + βu ∈ W1 ,
and αy + βv ∈ W2 . But, then α(x + y) + β(u + v) = (αx + βu) + (αy + βv)
belongs to W1 + W2 . 

Definition 1.3.9 A family {Wα | α ∈ } of subspaces of a vector space V over a

field F is called a chain if for any given pair α, β ∈ , Wα ⊆ Wβ , or Wβ ⊆ Wα .

Proposition 1.3.10 Union of a chain of subspaces is a subspace.

Proof Let {Wα |α ∈ } be a chain ofsubspaces of a vector space V over a field
F. Clearly, 0 ∈ α∈ Wα . Let x, y ∈ α∈ Wα , and α, β ∈ F. Then x ∈ Wα , and
y ∈ Wβ for some α, β ∈ F. Since the family is a chain, Wα ⊆ Wβ , or Wβ ⊆ Wα .
1.3 Subspaces 13

This means that x, y ∈ Wα , or x, y ∈ Wβ . Since Wα and W

β are subspaces, αx + βy
belongs
 to W α or to W β . It follows that αx + βy ∈ α∈ Wα . This shows that
α∈ W α is a subspace. 
Subspace Generated (Spanned) by a Subset
Definition 1.3.11 A subset S of a vector space V over a field F need not be a
subspace, for example, it may not contain 0. The intersection of all subspaces of
V containing S is the smallest subspace of V containing S. This subspace is called
the subspace generated (spanned) by S, and it is denoted by < S >. If < S > = V ,
then we say that S generates V, or S is a set of generators of V . A vector space V
is said to be finitely generated if it has a finite set of generators.
Clearly, < ∅ > = {0}.
Remark 1.3.12 The subspace < S > of V generated by S is completely characterized
by the following 3 properties:
(i) < S > is a subspace.
(ii) < S > contains S.
(iii) If W is a subspace containing S, then < S >⊆ W .
Definition 1.3.13 Let S be a nonempty subset of a vector space V over a field F.
An element x ∈ V is called a linear combination of members of S if

x = a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn

for some a1 , a2 , . . . , an ∈ F and x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ∈ V . We also say that x depends

linearly on S.
Remark 1.3.14 If S is a nonempty set, then 0 is always a linear combination of the
members of S, for 0 = 0x. All the members of S are linear combination of members
of S, for any x ∈ S is 1x. Further, if x is a linear combination of members of S, and
S ⊆ T , then x is also a linear combination of members of T . A Linear combination
of linear combinations of members of S is again a linear combination of members of
S.
Proposition 1.3.15 Let S be a nonempty subset of a vector space V over a field F.
Then < S > is the set of all linear combinations of members of S.
Proof Let W denote the set of all linear combinations of members of S. Since mem-
bers of S are also linear combinations of members of S, it follows that S ⊆ W . Thus, W
is nonempty set. Let x = a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · an xn and y = b1 y1 + b2 y2 + · · · bm ym
be members of W , and a, b ∈ F. Then

ax + by = a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · an xn + b1 y1 + b2 y2 + · · · bm ym ,

being a linear combination of members of S, is again a member of W , and so W is a

subspace of V . Let L be a subspace of V containing S. It follows, by induction on r,
14 1 Vector Spaces

that any linear combination a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + ar xr belongs to L. Thus, W is the

smallest subspace of V containing S. 

In particular, S is a set of generators of a vector space V over a field F if and only

if every element of V is a linear combination of members of S.
Example 1.3.16 The set E = {e1 , e2 , · · · , en }, where

i

ei = (0, 0, . . . , 0, 1 , 0, . . . , 0),

is a set of generators of the vector space F n . Indeed, any member x = (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn )

of F n is the linear combination x = x1 e1 + x2 e2 + · · · + xn en of members of
E. The subset S = {e1 + e2 , e2 + e3 , e3 + e1 } is also a set of generators of
F 3 , for x = (x1 , x2 , x3 ) = α1 (e1 + e2 ) + α2 (e2 + e3 ) + α3 (e3 + e1 ), where
α1 = x1 +x22 −x3 , α2 = x2 +x23 −x1 , α3 = x1 +x23 −x2 (verify).

Example 1.3.17 Consider The subset S = {e1 − e2 , e2 − e3 , e3 − e1 } of R3 .

It is easy to verify that x = (x1 , x2 , x3 ) is a linear combination of S = {e1 −
e2 , e2 − e3 , e3 − e1 } if and only if x1 + x2 + x3 = 0. Thus, the subspace < S >
of R3 generated by S is the plane {x = (x1 , x2 , x3 ) | x1 + x2 + x3 = 0}.

Linear Independence
Definition 1.3.18 A subset S of a vector space V over a field F is called linearly
independent if given any finite subset {x1 , x2 , . . . xn } of S, xi = xj for i = j,

a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0 implies that ai = 0 for all i.

A subset S which is not linearly independent is called a linearly dependent subset.

Thus, a subset S of a vector space V over a field F is linearly dependent if there is a
subset {x1 , x2 , . . . , xn } of distinct members of S, and a1 , a2 , . . . , an not all zero in F
such that
a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0.

Vacuously, the empty set ∅ is linearly independent. The observations in the following
proposition are easy but crucial, and they will be used often.
Proposition 1.3.19 Let V be a vector space over a field F. Then,
(i)any subset of V containing 0 is linearly dependent,
(ii)every subset of a linearly independent subset of V is linearly independent,
(iii)every subset containing a linearly dependent set islinearly dependent,
(iv) if S is a subset of V , and x ∈< S > − S, then S {x} is linearly dependent,
and 
(v) if S is linearly independent, and x ∈<
/ S >, then S {x} is linearly independent.
1.3 Subspaces 15

Proof (i) If 0 ∈ S, then 1 · 0 = 0 but 1 = 0. It follows from the definition that S is

linearly dependent.
The assertions (i) and (iii) are immediate from the definition itself.
(iv) Suppose that x ∈/ S, and x ∈< S >. Then there are distinct members x1 , x2 , . . . ,
xn ∈ S, and a1 , a2 , . . . , an ∈ F such that

x = a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn .

But, then
−1x + a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0.

Since 1 = 0, it follows that S {x} is linearly dependent.
(v) Suppose that S is linearly independent,
 / S >. Suppose that x1 , x2 , . . . ,
and x ∈<
xn ∈ S are distinct members of S {x} such that

a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0.

If xi = x for all i, then since S is linearly independent, ai = 0 for all i. Suppose

that xi = x for some i. Without any loss, we may suppose that x1 = x. Then a1 = 0,
otherwise,

x = (−a1 )−1 a2 x2 + (−a1 )−1 a3 x3 + · · · + (−a1 )−1 an xn .

belongs to < S >, a contradiction to the supposition. Thus, a1 = 0. Hence

a2 x2 + a3 x3 + · · · + an xn = 0.

Since S is linearly independent, ai = 0 for all i. 

Proposition 1.3.20 A subset S of a vector space V over a field F is linearly indepen-

dent if and only if given distinct members x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ∈ S, and a1 , a2 , . . . , an , b1 ,
b2 , . . . , bn ∈ F,

a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = b1 x1 + b2 x2 + · · · + bn xn .

implies that ai = bi for all i.

Proof Suppose that S is linearly independent, and

a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = b1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + bn xn ,

where x1 , x2 , . . . , xn are distinct members of S. Then

(a1 − b1 )x1 + (a2 − b2 )x2 + · · · + (an − bn )xn = 0.

16 1 Vector Spaces

Since S is linearly independent, ai − bi = 0 for all i, and so ai = bi for all i.

Conversely, suppose that the condition is satisfied, and

a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0,

where x1 , x2 , . . . , xn are distinct members of S. Then,

a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0x1 + 0x2 + · · · + 0xn .

From the given condition ai = 0 for all i. This shows that S is linearly
independent. 
Example 1.3.21 The set E = {e1 , e2 , · · · , en } described in Example 1.3.16 is
linearly independent subset of F n , for (x1 , x2 , . . . , xn ) = x1 e1 + x2 e2 + · · · +
xn en = 0 = (0, 0, . . . , 0) implies that each xi = 0. Also, the subset S = {e1 +
e2 , e2 + e3 , e3 + e1 } of F 3 is linearly independent, for a1 (e1 + e2 ) + a2 (e2 +
e3 ) + a3 (e3 + e1 ) = 0 = (0, 0, 0) implies that a1 + a3 = 0 = a1 + a2 =
a2 + a3 . But, then a1 = a2 = a3 = 0. However, the subset S = {e1 − e2 , e2 −
e3 , e3 − e1 } of F 3 is linearly dependent, for 1(e1 − e2 ) + 1(e2 − e3 ) + 1(e3 −
e1 = 0.

1.4 Basis and Dimension

Definition 1.4.1 A subset S of a vector space V over a field F is said to be a minimal

set of generators or irreducible set of generators if
(i) S generates V , i.e., < S > = V , and
(ii) no proper subset of S generates V .
More precisely, < S > = V , and < S − {x} > = V for all x ∈ S.
Definition 1.4.2 A subset B of a vector space V over a field F is said to be a maximal
linearly independent set if
(i) B is linearly independent, and
(ii) B ⊂ S implies that S is linearly dependent.
More precisely,  a linearly independent subset B is maximal linearly independent if
for all x ∈/ B, B {x} is linearly dependent.
The following two propositions says that maximal linearly independent sets and
minimal sets of generators are same.
Proposition 1.4.3 Every minimal set of generators is also a maximal linearly inde-
pendent set.
Proof Let S be a minimal set of generators of a vector space V over a field F. Suppose
that S is not linearly independent. Then there exists a set {x1 , x2 , . . . , xn } of distinct
members of S, and a1 , a2 , . . . , an not all 0 in F such that
1.4 Basis and Dimension 17

a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0.

Since the addition is commutative, without any loss, we may assume that a1 = 0.
But, then

x1 = (−a1 )−1 a2 x2 + (−a1 )−1 a3 x3 + · · · + (−a1 )−1 an xn .

This shows that x1 is a linear combination of members of S − {x1 }, or equivalently,

x1 ∈< S − {x1 } >. Thus, S ⊆< S − {x1 } >. Since < S > is the smallest subspace
containing S, V = < S >⊆< S − {x1 } >. It follows that < S − {x1 } > = V . This is
a contradiction to the supposition that S is a minimal set of generators of V . Thus, S
is linearly independent. Next, suppose that x ∈ / S. Since
 S is also a set of generators,
it follows from the Proposition 1.3.19(iv) that S {x} is linearly dependent. This
completes the proof of the fact that S is maximal linearly independent. 
Conversely, have the following proposition:
Proposition 1.4.4 A maximal linearly independent subset is also a minimal set of
generators.
Proof Let B be a maximal linearly independent subset of a vector space V over a
field F. Let x ∈ V . If x ∈ B, then x ∈<  B >. Suppose that x ∈ / B. Since B is maximal
linearly independent subset of V , B {x} is linearly  dependent. Hence there exists a
set {x1 , x2 , . . . , xn } of distinct members of B {x}, and a1 , a2 , . . . , an not all 0 in F
such that
a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn = 0.

One of the xi is x and corresponding ai = 0, otherwise B will turn out to be linearly

dependent, a contradiction to the supposition that B is linearly independent. We may
assume, without loss of generality, that x1 = x and a1 = 0. But, then

x = x1 = (−a1 )−1 a2 x2 + (−a1 )−1 a3 x3 + · · · + (−a1 )−1 an xn .

Hence x ∈< B >. This shows that B is a set of generators of V . Finally, x ∈< /
B − {x} >, otherwise, from Proposition 1.3.19(iv), B will turn out to be linearly
dependent. This shows that B is a minimal set of generators. 
Most of the implications in the following theorem are already established.
Theorem 1.4.5 Let B be a subset of a vector space V over a field F. Then the
following conditions are equivalent:
1. B is maximal linearly independent subset of V .
2. B is a minimal set of generators of V .
3. B is linearly independent as well as a set of generators of V .
4. Every nonzero element x ∈ V can be expressed uniquely (upto order) as

x = a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn ,
18 1 Vector Spaces

where x1 , x2 , . . . , xn are distinct members of B, and a1 , a2 , . . . , an are all nonzero

members of F.

Proof The equivalence of 1 and 2 follows from the Proposition 1.4.3 and the Propo-
sition 1.4.4. The implication 2 ⇒ 3 follows from the Proposition 1.4.3.
(3 ⇒ 4). Assume 3. Since B is a set of generators and also linearly independent, 4
follows from the Proposition 1.3.20.
(4 ⇒ 1). Assume 4. It follows again from the Proposition 1.3.20 that B is linearly
independent. Suppose
 that x ∈
/ B. By (4), x is a linear combination of members
of B, and so B {x} is linearly dependent. This shows that B is maximal linearly
independent subset. 

Definition 1.4.6 A subset B of a vector space V over a field F is called a basis of

V if it satisfies any one, and hence all, of the conditions in the Theorem 1.4.5.

Example 1.4.7 The set E = {e1 , e2 , · · · , en } described in Example 1.3.16 is

linearly independent (Example 1.3.21) subset as well as a set of generators of Fn
(Example 1.3.16), and hence it is a basis of F n . This basis is called the standard
basis of F n . Similarly, S = {e1 + e2 , e2 + e3 , e3 + e1 } is another basis of F 3 .

Proposition 1.4.8 Let V be a finitely generated vector space over a field F. Then V
has a finite basis. Indeed, any finite set of generators contains a basis.

Proof Let S be a finite set of generators of V . It may be a minimal set of generators

and so a basis. If not, < S − {x1 } > = V for some x1 ∈ S. S − {x1 } may be a minimal
set of generators and so a basis. If not, then < S − {x1 , x2 } > = V for some x2 ∈
S − {x1 }. S − {x1 , x2 } may be a minimal set of generators and so a basis. If not,
proceed. This process stops after finitely many steps giving us a basis contained in
S, for S is finite. 

Theorem 1.4.9 Let V be a finitely generated vector space over a field F. Then every
basis of V is finite, and any two bases of V contain the same number of elements.

Proof From the above proposition, V has a finite basis

B1 = {x1 , x2 , ·, xn }(say).

Let B2 be another basis of V . If B1 − B2 = ∅, then B1 ⊆ B2 . Since B1 and B2 are

both maximal linearly independent sets (being bases), B1 = B2 , and we are done.
Suppose that B1 = B2 . Then B2 − B1 = ∅, otherwise B2 ⊆ B1 , and again B2  = B1 .
Let y1 ∈ B2 − B1 . Since B1 , being a basis, is maximal linearly independent, B1 {y1 }
is linearly dependent. Thus, there exist a1 , a2 , . . . , an , b1 not all 0 in the field F such
that
a1 x1 + a2 x2 + · · · + an xn + b1 y1 = 0.
Another random document with
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 “You mean a goof?” I queried, wondering how she could have
penetrated the unhappy man’s secret.
“No, a goop. A goop is a man who’s in love with a girl and won’t
tell her so. I am as certain as I am of anything that Ferdinand is fond
of me.”
“Your instinct is unerring. He has just been confiding in me on that
very point.”
“Well, why doesn’t he confide in me, the poor fish?” cried the high-
spirited girl, petulantly flicking a pebble at a passing grasshopper. “I
can’t be expected to fling myself into his arms unless he gives some
sort of a hint that he’s ready to catch me.”
“Would it help if I were to repeat to him the substance of this
conversation of ours?”
“If you breathe a word of it, I’ll never speak to you again,” she
cried. “I’d rather die an awful death than have any man think I
wanted him so badly that I had to send relays of messengers
begging him to marry me.”
I saw her point.
“Then I fear,” I said, gravely, “that there is nothing to be done. One
can only wait and hope. It may be that in the years to come
Ferdinand Dibble will acquire a nice lissom, wristy swing, with the
head kept rigid and the right leg firmly braced and—”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was toying with the hope that some sunny day Ferdinand Dibble
would cease to be a goof.”
“You mean a goop?”
“No, a goof. A goof is a man who—” And I went on to explain the
peculiar psychological difficulties which lay in the way of any
declaration of affection on Ferdinand’s part.
“But I never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life,” she
ejaculated. “Do you mean to say that he is waiting till he is good at
golf before he asks me to marry him?”
 “It is not quite so simple as that,” I said sadly. “Many bad golfers
marry, feeling that a wife’s loving solicitude may improve their game.
But they are rugged, thick-skinned men, not sensitive and
introspective, like Ferdinand. Ferdinand has allowed himself to
become morbid. It is one of the chief merits of golf that non-success
at the game induces a certain amount of decent humility, which
keeps a man from pluming himself too much on any petty triumphs
he may achieve in other walks of life; but in all things there is a
happy mean, and with Ferdinand this humility has gone too far. It has
taken all the spirit out of him. He feels crushed and worthless. He is
grateful to caddies when they accept a tip instead of drawing
themselves up to their full height and flinging the money in his face.”
“Then do you mean that things have got to go on like this for
ever?”
I thought for a moment.
“It is a pity,” I said, “that you could not have induced Ferdinand to
go to Marvis Bay for a month or two.”
“Why?”
“Because it seems to me, thinking the thing over, that it is just
possible that Marvis Bay might cure him. At the hotel there he would
find collected a mob of golfers—I used the term in its broadest
sense, to embrace the paralytics and the men who play left-handed
—whom even he would be able to beat. When I was last at Marvis
Bay, the hotel links were a sort of Sargasso Sea into which had
drifted all the pitiful flotsam and jetsam of golf. I have seen things
done on that course at which I shuddered and averted my eyes—
and I am not a weak man. If Ferdinand can polish up his game so as
to go round in a fairly steady hundred and five, I fancy there is hope.
But I understand he is not going to Marvis Bay.”
“Oh yes, he is,” said the girl.
“Indeed! He did not tell me that when we were talking just now.”
“He didn’t know it then. He will when I have had a few words with
him.”
 And she walked with firm steps back into the club-house.

It has been well said that there are many kinds of golf, beginning
at the top with the golf of professionals and the best amateurs and
working down through the golf of ossified men to that of Scotch
University professors. Until recently this last was looked upon as the
lowest possible depth; but nowadays, with the growing popularity of
summer hotels, we are able to add a brand still lower, the golf you
find at places like Marvis Bay.
To Ferdinand Dibble, coming from a club where the standard of
play was rather unusually high, Marvis Bay was a revelation, and for
some days after his arrival there he went about dazed, like a man
who cannot believe it is really true. To go out on the links at this
summer resort was like entering a new world. The hotel was full of
stout, middle-aged men, who, after a misspent youth devoted to
making money, had taken to a game at which real proficiency can
only be acquired by those who start playing in their cradles and keep
their weight down. Out on the course each morning you could see
representatives of every nightmare style that was ever invented.
There was the man who seemed to be attempting to deceive his ball
and lull it into a false security by looking away from it and then
making a lightning slash in the apparent hope of catching it off its
guard. There was the man who wielded his mid-iron like one killing
snakes. There was the man who addressed his ball as if he were
stroking a cat, the man who drove as if he were cracking a whip, the
man who brooded over each shot like one whose heart is bowed
down by bad news from home, and the man who scooped with his
mashie as if he were ladling soup. By the end of the first week
Ferdinand Dibble was the acknowledged champion of the place. He
had gone through the entire menagerie like a bullet through a cream
puff.
First, scarcely daring to consider the possibility of success, he had
taken on the man who tried to catch his ball off its guard and had
beaten him five up and four to play. Then, with gradually growing
confidence, he tackled in turn the Cat-Stroker, the Whip-Cracker, the
Heart Bowed Down, and the Soup-Scooper, and walked all over their
faces with spiked shoes. And as these were the leading local
amateurs, whose prowess the octogenarians and the men who went
round in bath-chairs vainly strove to emulate, Ferdinand Dibble was
faced on the eighth morning of his visit by the startling fact that he
had no more worlds to conquer. He was monarch of all he surveyed,
and, what is more, had won his first trophy, the prize in the great
medal-play handicap tournament, in which he had nosed in ahead of
the field by two strokes, edging out his nearest rival, a venerable old
gentleman, by means of a brilliant and unexpected four on the last
hole. The prize was a handsome pewter mug, about the size of the
old oaken bucket, and Ferdinand used to go to his room immediately
after dinner to croon over it like a mother over her child.
You are wondering, no doubt, why, in these circumstances, he did
not take advantage of the new spirit of exhilarated pride which had
replaced his old humility and instantly propose to Barbara Medway. I
will tell you. He did not propose to Barbara because Barbara was not
there. At the last moment she had been detained at home to nurse a
sick parent and had been compelled to postpone her visit for a
couple of weeks. He could, no doubt, have proposed in one of the
daily letters which he wrote to her, but somehow, once he started
writing, he found that he used up so much space describing his best
shots on the links that day that it was difficult to squeeze in a
declaration of undying passion. After all, you can hardly cram that
sort of thing into a postscript.
He decided, therefore, to wait till she arrived, and meanwhile
pursued his conquering course. The longer he waited the better, in
one way, for every morning and afternoon that passed was adding
new layers to his self-esteem. Day by day in every way he grew
chestier and chestier.

Meanwhile, however, dark clouds were gathering. Sullen

mutterings were to be heard in corners of the hotel lounge, and the
spirit of revolt was abroad. For Ferdinand’s chestiness had not
escaped the notice of his defeated rivals. There is nobody so chesty
as a normally unchesty man who suddenly becomes chesty, and I
am sorry to say that the chestiness which had come to Ferdinand
was the aggressive type of chestiness which breeds enemies. He
had developed a habit of holding the game up in order to give his
opponent advice. The Whip-Cracker had not forgiven, and never
would forgive, his well-meant but galling criticism of his back-swing.
The Scooper, who had always scooped since the day when, at the
age of sixty-four, he subscribed to the Correspondence Course
which was to teach him golf in twelve lessons by mail, resented
being told by a snip of a boy that the mashie-stroke should be a
smooth, unhurried swing. The Snake-Killer—But I need not weary
you with a detailed recital of these men’s grievances; it is enough to
say that they all had it in for Ferdinand, and one night, after dinner,
they met in the lounge to decide what was to be done about it.
A nasty spirit was displayed by all.
“A mere lad telling me how to use my mashie!” growled the
Scooper. “Smooth and unhurried my left eyeball! I get it up, don’t I?
Well, what more do you want?”
“I keep telling him that mine is the old, full St. Andrew swing,”
muttered the Whip-Cracker, between set teeth, “but he won’t listen to
me.”
“He ought to be taken down a peg or two,” hissed the Snake-Killer.
It is not easy to hiss a sentence without a single “s” in it, and the fact
that he succeeded in doing so shows to what a pitch of emotion the
man had been goaded by Ferdinand’s maddening air of superiority.
“Yes, but what can we do?” queried an octogenarian, when this
last remark had been passed on to him down his ear-trumpet.
“That’s the trouble,” sighed the Scooper. “What can we do?” And
there was a sorrowful shaking of heads.
“I know!” exclaimed the Cat-Stroker, who had not hitherto spoken.
He was a lawyer, and a man of subtle and sinister mind. “I have it!
There’s a boy in my office—young Parsloe—who could beat this man
Dibble hollow. I’ll wire him to come down here and we’ll spring him
on this fellow and knock some of the conceit out of him.”
There was a chorus of approval.
“But are you sure he can beat him?” asked the Snake-Killer,
anxiously. “It would never do to make a mistake.”
“Of course I’m sure,” said the Cat-Stroker. “George Parsloe once
went round in ninety-four.”
“Many changes there have been since ninety-four,” said the
octogenarian, nodding sagely. “Ah, many, many changes. None of
these motor-cars then, tearing about and killing—”
Kindly hands led him off to have an egg-and-milk, and the
remaining conspirators returned to the point at issue with bent
brows.
“Ninety-four?” said the Scooper, incredulously. “Do you mean
counting every stroke?”
“Counting every stroke.”
“Not conceding himself any putts?”
“Not one.”
“Wire him to come at once,” said the meeting with one voice.
That night the Cat-Stroker approached Ferdinand, smooth, subtle,
lawyer-like.
“Oh, Dibble,” he said, “just the man I wanted to see. Dibble, there’s
a young friend of mine coming down here who goes in for golf a little.
George Parsloe is his name. I was wondering if you could spare time
to give him a game. He is just a novice, you know.”
“I shall be delighted to play a round with him,” said Ferdinand,
kindly.
“He might pick up a pointer or two from watching you,” said the
Cat-Stroker.
“True, true,” said Ferdinand.
 “Then I’ll introduce you when he shows up.”
“Delighted,” said Ferdinand.
He was in excellent humour that night, for he had had a letter from
Barbara saying that she was arriving on the next day but one.

It was Ferdinand’s healthy custom of a morning to get up in good

time and take a dip in the sea before breakfast. On the morning of
the day of Barbara’s arrival, he arose, as usual, donned his flannels,
took a good look at the cup, and started out. It was a fine, fresh
morning, and he glowed both externally and internally. As he crossed
the links, for the nearest route to the water was through the fairway
of the seventh, he was whistling happily and rehearsing in his mind
the opening sentences of his proposal. For it was his firm resolve
that night after dinner to ask Barbara to marry him. He was
proceeding over the smooth turf without a care in the world, when
there was a sudden cry of “Fore!” and the next moment a golf ball,
missing him by inches, sailed up the fairway and came to a rest fifty
yards from where he stood. He looked round and observed a figure
coming towards him from the tee.
The distance from the tee was fully a hundred and thirty yards.
Add fifty to that, and you have a hundred and eighty yards. No such
drive had been made on the Marvis Bay links since their foundation,
and such is the generous spirit of the true golfer that Ferdinand’s first
emotion, after the not inexcusable spasm of panic caused by the
hum of the ball past his ear, was one of cordial admiration. By some
kindly miracle, he supposed, one of his hotel acquaintances had
been permitted for once in his life to time a drive right. It was only
when the other man came up that there began to steal over him a
sickening apprehension. The faces of all those who hewed divots on
the hotel course were familiar to him, and the fact that this fellow was
a stranger seemed to point with dreadful certainty to his being the
man he had agreed to play.
 “Sorry,” said the man. He was a tall, strikingly handsome youth,
with brown eyes and a dark moustache.
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Ferdinand. “Er—do you always drive like
that?”
“Well, I generally get a bit longer ball, but I’m off my drive this
morning. It’s lucky I came out and got this practice. I’m playing a
match to-morrow with a fellow named Dibble, who’s a local
champion, or something.”
“Me,” said Ferdinand, humbly.
“Eh? Oh, you?” Mr. Parsloe eyed him appraisingly. “Well, may the
best man win.”
As this was precisely what Ferdinand was afraid was going to
happen, he nodded in a sickly manner and tottered off to his bathe.
The magic had gone out of the morning. The sun still shone, but in a
silly, feeble way; and a cold and depressing wind had sprung up. For
Ferdinand’s inferiority complex, which had seemed cured for ever,
was back again, doing business at the old stand.

How sad it is in this life that the moment to which we have looked
forward with the most glowing anticipation so often turns out on
arrival, flat, cold, and disappointing. For ten days Barbara Medway
had been living for that meeting with Ferdinand, when, getting out of
the train, she would see him popping about on the horizon with the
love-light sparkling in his eyes and words of devotion trembling on
his lips. The poor girl never doubted for an instant that he would
unleash his pent-up emotions inside the first five minutes, and her
only worry was lest he should give an embarrassing publicity to the
sacred scene by falling on his knees on the station platform.
“Well, here I am at last,” she cried gaily.
“Hullo!” said Ferdinand, with a twisted smile.
 The girl looked at him, chilled. How could she know that his
peculiar manner was due entirely to the severe attack of cold feet
resultant upon his meeting with George Parsloe that morning? The
interpretation which she placed upon it was that he was not glad to
see her. If he had behaved like this before, she would, of course,
have put it down to ingrowing goofery, but now she had his written
statements to prove that for the last ten days his golf had been one
long series of triumphs.
“I got your letters,” she said, persevering bravely.
“I thought you would,” said Ferdinand, absently.
“You seem to have been doing wonders.”
“Yes.”
There was a silence.
“Have a nice journey?” said Ferdinand.
“Very,” said Barbara.
She spoke coldly, for she was madder than a wet hen. She saw it
all now. In the ten days since they had parted, his love, she realised,
had waned. Some other girl, met in the romantic surroundings of this
picturesque resort, had supplanted her in his affections. She knew
how quickly Cupid gets off the mark at a summer hotel, and for an
instant she blamed herself for ever having been so ivory-skulled as
to let him come to this place alone. Then regret was swallowed up in
wrath, and she became so glacial that Ferdinand, who had been on
the point of telling her the secret of his gloom, retired into his shell
and conversation during the drive to the hotel never soared above a
certain level. Ferdinand said the sunshine was nice and Barbara said
yes, it was nice, and Ferdinand said it looked pretty on the water,
and Barbara said yes, it did look pretty on the water, and Ferdinand
said he hoped it was not going to rain, and Barbara said yes, it would
be a pity if it rained. And then there was another lengthy silence.
“How is my uncle?” asked Barbara at last.
I omitted to mention that the individual to whom I have referred as
the Cat-Stroker was Barbara’s mother’s brother, and her host at
Marvis Bay.
“Your uncle?”
“His name is Tuttle. Have you met him?”
“Oh yes. I’ve seen a good deal of him. He has got a friend staying
with him,” said Ferdinand, his mind returning to the matter nearest
his heart. “A fellow named Parsloe.”
“Oh, is George Parsloe here? How jolly!”
“Do you know him?” barked Ferdinand, hollowly. He would not
have supposed that anything could have added to his existing
depression, but he was conscious now of having slipped a few rungs
farther down the ladder of gloom. There had been a horribly joyful
ring in her voice. Ah, well, he reflected morosely, how like life it all
was! We never know what the morrow may bring forth. We strike a
good patch and are beginning to think pretty well of ourselves, and
along comes a George Parsloe.
“Of course I do,” said Barbara. “Why, there he is.”
The cab had drawn up at the door of the hotel, and on the porch
George Parsloe was airing his graceful person. To Ferdinand’s
fevered eye he looked like a Greek god, and his inferiority complex
began to exhibit symptoms of elephantiasis. How could he compete
at love or golf with a fellow who looked as if he had stepped out of
the movies and considered himself off his drive when he did a
hundred and eighty yards?
“Geor-gee!” cried Barbara, blithely. “Hullo, George!”
“Why, hullo, Barbara!”
They fell into pleasant conversation, while Ferdinand hung
miserably about in the offing. And presently, feeling that his society
was not essential to their happiness, he slunk away.
George Parsloe dined at the Cat-Stroker’s table that night, and it
was with George Parsloe that Barbara roamed in the moonlight after
dinner. Ferdinand, after a profitless hour at the billiard-table, went
early to his room. But not even the rays of the moon, glinting on his
cup, could soothe the fever in his soul. He practised putting sombrely
into his tooth-glass for a while; then, going to bed, fell at last into a
troubled sleep.

Barbara slept late the next morning and breakfasted in her room.
Coming down towards noon, she found a strange emptiness in the
hotel. It was her experience of summer hotels that a really fine day
like this one was the cue for half the inhabitants to collect in the
lounge, shut all the windows, and talk about conditions in the jute
industry. To her surprise, though the sun was streaming down from a
cloudless sky, the only occupant of the lounge was the octogenarian
with the ear-trumpet. She observed that he was chuckling to himself
in a senile manner.
“Good morning,” she said, politely, for she had made his
acquaintance on the previous evening.
“Hey?” said the octogenarian, suspending his chuckling and
getting his trumpet into position.
“I said ‘Good morning!’” roared Barbara into the receiver.
“Hey?”
“Good morning!”
“Ah! Yes, it’s a very fine morning, a very fine morning. If it wasn’t
for missing my bun and glass of milk at twelve sharp,” said the
octogenarian, “I’d be down on the links. That’s where I’d be, down on
the links. If it wasn’t for missing my bun and glass of milk.”
This refreshment arriving at this moment he dismantled the radio
outfit and began to restore his tissues.
“Watching the match,” he explained, pausing for a moment in his
bun-mangling.
“What match?”
The octogenarian sipped his milk.
 “What match?” repeated Barbara.
“Hey?”
“What match?”
The octogenarian began to chuckle again and nearly swallowed a
crumb the wrong way.
“Take some of the conceit out of him,” he gurgled.
“Out of who?” asked Barbara, knowing perfectly well that she
should have said “whom.”
“Yes,” said the octogenarian.
“Who is conceited?”
“Ah! This young fellow, Dibble. Very conceited. I saw it in his eye
from the first, but nobody would listen to me. Mark my words, I said,
that boy needs taking down a peg or two. Well, he’s going to be this
morning. Your uncle wired to young Parsloe to come down, and he’s
arranged a match between them. Dibble—” Here the octogenarian
choked again and had to rinse himself out with milk, “Dibble doesn’t
know that Parsloe once went round in ninety-four!”
“What?”
Everything seemed to go black to Barbara. Through a murky mist
she appeared to be looking at a negro octogenarian, sipping ink.
Then her eyes cleared, and she found herself clutching for support at
the back of the chair. She understood now. She realised why
Ferdinand had been so distrait, and her whole heart went out to him
in a spasm of maternal pity. How she had wronged him!
“Take some of the conceit out of him,” the octogenarian was
mumbling, and Barbara felt a sudden sharp loathing for the old man.
For two pins she could have dropped a beetle in his milk. Then the
need for action roused her. What action? She did not know. All she
knew was that she must act.
“Oh!” she cried.
“Hey?” said the octogenarian, bringing his trumpet to the ready.
 But Barbara had gone.
It was not far to the links, and Barbara covered the distance on
flying feet. She reached the club-house, but the course was empty
except for the Scooper, who was preparing to drive off the first tee. In
spite of the fact that something seemed to tell her subconsciously
that this was one of the sights she ought not to miss, the girl did not
wait to watch. Assuming that the match had started soon after
breakfast, it must by now have reached one of the holes on the
second nine. She ran down the hill, looking to left and right, and was
presently aware of a group of spectators clustered about a green in
the distance. As she hurried towards them they moved away, and
now she could see Ferdinand advancing to the next tee. With a thrill
that shook her whole body she realised that he had the honour. So
he must have won one hole, at any rate. Then she saw her uncle.
“How are they?” she gasped.
Mr. Tuttle seemed moody. It was apparent that things were not
going altogether to his liking.
“All square at the fifteenth,” he replied, gloomily.
“All square!”
“Yes. Young Parsloe,” said Mr. Tuttle with a sour look in the
direction of that lissom athlete, “doesn’t seem to be able to do a thing
right on the greens. He has been putting like a sheep with the botts.”
From the foregoing remark of Mr. Tuttle you will, no doubt, have
gleaned at least a clue to the mystery of how Ferdinand Dibble had
managed to hold his long-driving adversary up to the fifteenth green,
but for all that you will probably consider that some further
explanation of this amazing state of affairs is required. Mere bad
putting on the part of George Parsloe is not, you feel, sufficient to
cover the matter entirely. You are right. There was another very
important factor in the situation—to wit, that by some extraordinary
chance Ferdinand Dibble had started right off from the first tee,
playing the game of a lifetime. Never had he made such drives,
never chipped his chip so shrewdly.
 About Ferdinand’s driving there was as a general thing a fatal
stiffness and over-caution which prevented success. And with his
chip-shots he rarely achieved accuracy owing to his habit of rearing
his head like the lion of the jungle just before the club struck the ball.
But to-day he had been swinging with a careless freedom, and his
chips had been true and clean. The thing had puzzled him all the
way round. It had not elated him, for, owing to Barbara’s aloofness
and the way in which she had gambolled about George Parsloe like
a young lamb in the springtime, he was in too deep a state of
dejection to be elated by anything. And now, suddenly, in a flash of
clear vision, he perceived the reason why he had been playing so
well to-day. It was just because he was not elated. It was simply
because he was so profoundly miserable.
That was what Ferdinand told himself as he stepped off the
sixteenth, after hitting a screamer down the centre of the fairway,
and I am convinced that he was right. Like so many indifferent
golfers, Ferdinand Dibble had always made the game hard for
himself by thinking too much. He was a deep student of the works of
the masters, and whenever he prepared to play a stroke he had a
complete mental list of all the mistakes which it was possible to
make. He would remember how Taylor had warned against dipping
the right shoulder, how Vardon had inveighed against any movement
of the head; he would recall how Ray had mentioned the tendency to
snatch back the club, how Braid had spoken sadly of those who sin
against their better selves by stiffening the muscles and heaving.
The consequence was that when, after waggling in a frozen
manner till mere shame urged him to take some definite course of
action, he eventually swung, he invariably proceeded to dip his right
shoulder, stiffen his muscles, heave, and snatch back the club, at the
same time raising his head sharply as in the illustrated plate (“Some
Frequent Faults of Beginners—No. 3—Lifting the Bean”) facing page
thirty-four of James Braid’s Golf Without Tears. To-day he had been
so preoccupied with his broken heart that he had made his shots
absently, almost carelessly, with the result that at least one in every
three had been a lallapaloosa.
 Meanwhile, George Parsloe had driven off and the match was
progressing. George was feeling a little flustered by now. He had
been given to understand that this bird Dibble was a hundred-at-his-
best man, and all the way round the fellow had been reeling off fives
in great profusion, and had once actually got a four. True, there had
been an occasional six, and even a seven, but that did not alter the
main fact that the man was making the dickens of a game of it. With
the haughty spirit of one who had once done a ninety-four, George
Parsloe had anticipated being at least three up at the turn. Instead of
which he had been two down, and had to fight strenuously to draw
level.
Nevertheless, he drove steadily and well, and would certainly have
won the hole had it not been for his weak and sinful putting. The
same defect caused him to halve the seventeenth, after being on in
two, with Ferdinand wandering in the desert and only reaching the
green with his fourth. Then, however, Ferdinand holed out from a
distance of seven yards, getting a five; which George’s three putts
just enabled him to equal.
Barbara had watched the proceedings with a beating heart. At first
she had looked on from afar; but now, drawn as by a magnet, she
approached the tee. Ferdinand was driving off. She held her breath.
Ferdinand held his breath. And all around one could see their
respective breaths being held by George Parsloe, Mr. Tuttle, and the
enthralled crowd of spectators. It was a moment of the acutest
tension, and it was broken by the crack of Ferdinand’s driver as it
met the ball and sent it hopping along the ground for a mere thirty
yards. At this supreme crisis in the match Ferdinand Dibble had
topped.
George Parsloe teed up his ball. There was a smile of quiet
satisfaction on his face. He snuggled the driver in his hands, and
gave it a preliminary swish. This, felt George Parsloe, was where the
happy ending came. He could drive as he had never driven before.
He would so drive that it would take his opponent at least three shots
to catch up with him. He drew back his club with infinite caution,
poised it at the top of the swing—
 “I always wonder—” said a clear, girlish voice, ripping the silence
like the explosion of a bomb.
George Parsloe started. His club wobbled. It descended. The ball
trickled into the long grass in front of the tee. There was a grim
pause.
“You were saying, Miss Medway—” said George Parsloe, in a
small, flat voice.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Barbara. “I’m afraid I put you off.”
“A little, perhaps. Possibly the merest trifle. But you were saying
you wondered about something. Can I be of any assistance?”
“I was only saying,” said Barbara, “that I always wonder why tees
are called tees.”
George Parsloe swallowed once or twice. He also blinked a little
feverishly. His eyes had a dazed, staring expression.
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you off-hand,” he said, “but I will make a
point of consulting some good encyclopædia at the earliest
opportunity.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Not at all. It will be a pleasure. In case you were thinking of
inquiring at the moment when I am putting why greens are called
greens, may I venture the suggestion now that it is because they are
green?”
And, so saying, George Parsloe stalked to his ball and found it
nestling in the heart of some shrub of which, not being a botanist, I
cannot give you the name. It was a close-knit, adhesive shrub, and it
twined its tentacles so loving around George Parsloe’s niblick that he
missed his first shot altogether. His second made the ball rock, and
his third dislodged it. Playing a full swing with his brassie and being
by now a mere cauldron of seething emotions he missed his fourth.
His fifth came to within a few inches of Ferdinand’s drive, and he
picked it up and hurled it from him into the rough as if it had been
something venomous.
 “Your hole and match,” said George Parsloe, thinly.

Ferdinand Dibble sat beside the glittering ocean. He had hurried

off the course with swift strides the moment George Parsloe had
spoken those bitter words. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
They were mixed thoughts. For a moment joy at the reflection that
he had won a tough match came irresistibly to the surface, only to
sink again as he remembered that life, whatever its triumphs, could
hold nothing for him now that Barbara Medway loved another.
“Mr. Dibble!”
He looked up. She was standing at his side. He gulped and rose to
his feet.
“Yes?”
There was a silence.
“Doesn’t the sun look pretty on the water?” said Barbara.
Ferdinand groaned. This was too much.
“Leave me,” he said, hollowly. “Go back to your Parsloe, the man
with whom you walked in the moonlight beside this same water.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I walk with Mr. Parsloe in the moonlight
beside this same water?” demanded Barbara, with spirit.
“I never said,” replied Ferdinand, for he was a fair man at heart,
“that you shouldn’t walk with Mr. Parsloe beside this same water. I
simply said you did walk with Mr. Parsloe beside this same water.”
“I’ve a perfect right to walk with Mr. Parsloe beside this same
water,” persisted Barbara. “He and I are old friends.”
Ferdinand groaned again.
“Exactly! There you are! As I suspected. Old friends. Played
together as children, and what not, I shouldn’t wonder.”
 “No, we didn’t. I’ve only known him five years. But he is engaged
to be married to my greatest chum, so that draws us together.”
Ferdinand uttered a strangled cry.
“Parsloe engaged to be married!”
“Yes. The wedding takes place next month.”
“But look here.” Ferdinand’s forehead was wrinkled. He was
thinking tensely. “Look here,” said Ferdinand, a close reasoner. “If
Parsloe’s engaged to your greatest chum, he can’t be in love with
you.”
“No.”
“And you aren’t in love with him?”
“No.”
“Then, by gad,” said Ferdinand, “how about it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you marry me?” bellowed Ferdinand.
“Yes.”
“You will?”
“Of course I will.”
“Darling!” cried Ferdinand.

“There is only one thing that bothers me a bit,” said Ferdinand,

thoughtfully, as they strolled together over the scented meadows,
while in the trees above them a thousand birds trilled Mendelssohn’s
Wedding March.
“What is that?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Ferdinand. “The fact is, I’ve just discovered
the great secret of golf. You can’t play a really hot game unless
you’re so miserable that you don’t worry over your shots. Take the
case of a chip-shot, for instance. If you’re really wretched, you don’t
care where the ball is going and so you don’t raise your head to see.
Grief automatically prevents pressing and over-swinging. Look at the
top-notchers. Have you ever seen a happy pro?”
“No. I don’t think I have.”
“Well, then!”
“But pros are all Scotchmen,” argued Barbara.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’m right. And the darned thing is that
I’m going to be so infernally happy all the rest of my life that I
suppose my handicap will go up to thirty or something.”
Barbara squeezed his hand lovingly.
“Don’t worry, precious,” she said, soothingly. “It will be all right. I
am a woman, and, once we are married, I shall be able to think of at
least a hundred ways of snootering you to such an extent that you’ll
be fit to win the Amateur Championship.”
“You will?” said Ferdinand, anxiously. “You’re sure?”
“Quite, quite sure, dearest,” said Barbara.
“My angel!” said Ferdinand.
He folded her in his arms, using the interlocking grip.
 CHAPTER II
HIGH STAKES

The summer day was drawing to a close. Over the terrace outside
the club-house the chestnut trees threw long shadows, and such
bees as still lingered in the flower-beds had the air of tired business
men who are about ready to shut up the office and go off to dinner
and a musical comedy. The Oldest Member, stirring in his favourite
chair, glanced at his watch and yawned.
As he did so, from the neighbourhood of the eighteenth green,
hidden from his view by the slope of the ground, there came
suddenly a medley of shrill animal cries, and he deduced that some
belated match must just have reached a finish. His surmise was
correct. The babble of voices drew nearer, and over the brow of the
hill came a little group of men. Two, who appeared to be the
ringleaders in the affair, were short and stout. One was cheerful and
the other dejected. The rest of the company consisted of friends and
adherents; and one of these, a young man who seemed to be
amused, strolled to where the Oldest Member sat.
“What,” inquired the Sage, “was all the shouting for?”
The young man sank into a chair and lighted a cigarette.
“Perkins and Broster,” he said, “were all square at the
seventeenth, and they raised the stakes to fifty pounds. They were
both on the green in seven, and Perkins had a two-foot putt to halve
the match. He missed it by six inches. They play pretty high, those
two.”
“It is a curious thing,” said the Oldest Member, “that men whose
golf is of a kind that makes hardened caddies wince always do. The
more competent a player, the smaller the stake that contents him. It
is only when you get down into the submerged tenth of the golfing
world that you find the big gambling. However, I would not call fifty