MY first meeting with Jeans was, I think, in 1912 in Charles Sayle's house in Trumpington Street. I was then quite a junior member of the staff of the University Press and Jeans was little more to me than the author of some of those big, blue mathematical books with which I was beginning to be familiar in the Syndics’ catalogue. When I returned to the Press after the 1914 war, I began to realize more clearly his importance as an author, but it was not until I became Secretary in 1922 that I had personal dealings with him. Reprints and new editions of his earlier books involved a certain amount of discussion and correspondence, but it was the publication of Astronomy and Cosmogony (1928) that led me into more intimate talk with him. I remember very clearly Ralph Fowler coming in to my room at the Press and asking me whether I had read Jeans's latest book. I took the enquiry to be a jocular one and reminded Fowler, in reply, that I was not obliged to read every book that I published. Then, more seriously, Fowler said: ‘Ah, yes, but you should look at the last chapter.’ It was good advice and I realized, especially after promptings from my colleague, R. J. L. Kingsford, that cosmogony might contain the potentialities of best-selling beyond the dreams of academic avarice.

At that time I frequently travelled by road to Worthing, where my parents lived. Jeans's home at Dorking was only a few yards off the main road and accordingly I proposed myself for lunch on a day when I was due to go to Worthing. It was the first time I had seen Jeans at home and he gave me a most friendly welcome. He produced an admirable claret and after lunch we retired to his study. After a few preliminary pourparlers, I approached my main topic and asked Jeans whether he would consider the writing of a popular book. His reply was characteristic. Looking at me with a kindly but slightly scornful expression, he said: 'Oh, yes, several publishers have approached me about that.’ ‘Well’, I replied, ‘what about us?’ ‘Oh’, he said ‘you're the finest mathematical printers in the world—but you couldn't sell a popular book.’ ‘Well, have you ever written one?’ I countered.