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    A History of Geometrical Methods
    A History of Geometrical Methods
    A History of Geometrical Methods
    Ebook889 pages7 hours

    A History of Geometrical Methods

    By Julian Lowell Coolidge

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    Full and authoritative, this history of the techniques for dealing with geometric questions begins with synthetic geometry and its origins in Babylonian and Egyptian mathematics; reviews the contributions of China, Japan, India, and Greece; and discusses the non-Euclidean geometries. Subsequent sections cover algebraic geometry, starting with the precursors and advancing to the great awakening with Descartes; and differential geometry, from the early work of Huygens and Newton to projective and absolute differential geometry. The author's emphasis on proofs and notations, his comparisons between older and newer methods, and his references to over 600 primary and secondary sources make this book an invaluable reference. 1940 edition.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDover Publications
    Release dateFeb 27, 2013
    ISBN9780486158532
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      A History of Geometrical Methods - Julian Lowell Coolidge

      EDITIONS

      BOOK I

      SYNTHETIC GEOMETRY

      CHAPTER I

      THE BEGINNINGS OF GEOMETRY

      § 1. Geometry in the Animal Kingdom.

      THE subject of geometry, whether we consider it as a science or an art, has a very long history. Whatever be our definition of the Homo sapiens, he must be accorded some geometrical ideas; in fact, there would have been geometry if there had been no Homines sapientes at all. Geometrical forms appear in inanimate Nature; in the elliptical path of the Earth about the sun, the spherical shape of the rain-drop, the symmetrical pattern of the snowflake. These forms are explained by the mechanical exigencies of the situation. In organic life we observe a variety of geometrical forms arising from physiological requirements. The structure of bones and bone tissues is well adapted to meet the stresses to be feared, the tendency towards spiral forms in certain shells is produced by a lateral pressure acting on longitudinal growth; other examples are easily found.

      All the geometrical forms so far mentioned arise from obvious mechanical necessity: What is the earliest example of purposive geometrical construction? This is a perfectly intelligible question if we avoid metaphysical difficulties over the problem of the freedom of the will. If a pigeon fly straight rather than on a curve, once it has decided the direction of its home, we are safe in saying that it has intentionally taken the shortest path and applaud its sagacity, without inquiring as to whether the real reason was not that it had an impulse to go straight, and none to bend. But the dog who sees his master moving and follows him along a pursuit curve instead of running straight towards some spot ahead is no good geometer.

      Another example in Nature where great credit has been given for geometrical sagacity is found in the cell-structure of the honey bee. Such a cell is a prism whose section is approximately a regular hexagon, while the ends are three-faced ‘steeples’. The cleverness of the creature in constructing a habitation of hexagonal section excited the admiration of Pappus, some sixteen hundred years ago:

      ‘Presumably because they know themselves to be entrusted with the task of bringing from the gods, to the accomplished portion of mankind a share of ambrosia in this form, they do not think it proper to pour it carelessly on ground or wood, or any other ugly or irregular material; but first collecting the sweets of the most beautiful flowers which grow upon the earth, they make from them for the reception of the honey, the vessels which we call honeycombs (with cells) all equal and similar, and contiguous to one another, and hexagonal in form. And that they have contrived this by virtue of a certain geometrical forethought, we may infer in this way. They would necessarily think that the figures must be such as to be contiguous to one another, that is to say, to have their sides in common in order that no foreign matter could enter into the interstices between them and so defile the purity of the produce. Now there are three rectilinear figures which are capable of fulfilling this condition, I mean regular figures which are equilateral and equiangular, for bees would have none of figures which are not uniform. . . . There being then three figures capable by themselves of exactly filling up the space about the same point, the bees by reason of their instinctive wisdom chose for their construction the figure which has most angles, because they conceived it would hold more honey than either of the other two.’²

      But the bee’s skill in solving problems in maxima and minima does not end here. It was found on examination that the angle formed by the faces of the steeple with the axis was such as to make the total surface for a given volume a minimum, a result experimentally determined by Maclaurin.³ What clever bees!

      But were they really so clever? Let us look at the matter more closely. The tightly packed bees, facing one way, may be likened to a number of circular cylinders, with hemispherical ends. Each cylinder will be in lateral contact with six others. The wax for the cells is at first liquid and fills the interstices in a symmetrical manner, so that the section of the cell is naturally hexagonal. Being a liquid under surface tension it will take such a form as to make the total surface a minimum, and this accounts for the steeple-face angle which agrees almost too closely with observed measurement.⁴

      The ablest geometer among the animals is surely the spider. I limit myself to the epeiridae, as they are very common, and produce beautiful webs. Their procedure seems to be as follows:⁵

      The epeira begins by laying out a rim or framework very irregularly, stretched across boughs, leaves, twigs, or walls, whatever will give the requisite spread and stiffness. As the spider does not necessarily set a web repeatedly in the same place, the outline and the consequent problem changes from web to web. The frame is braced at awkward corners and guyed in various ways. The next operation is to stretch the radii. The spider first runs a diameter across, and chooses a spot near the middle to be the centre of the web. The radii are then stretched one after another in the most haphazard order. A radius running more or less upwards is presently braced by one with a downward trend, a right running radius is soon followed by one with a left direction. One observer⁶ had the excellent idea of noting the order in which a certain spider laid out 21 radii. We reproduce the result in the following table, the figures in the first row give the natural order for the radii, those in the second the order in which these radii were actually laid out.

      The number of radii is characteristic of the species; they run from a dozen or so up to 180, laid in the beautiful webs of the dome-builders of Hindustan.⁷

      After the radii have been stretched, the spider turns her attention to laying what is called the temporary spiral. A sizable hub has been built up by bits that the spider has bitten off what was pulled out in laying the various radii. She now passes around the hub from radius to radius, holding it with her front legs, climbing with her back ones and laying out thread from spoke to spoke, so as to diverge gradually from the centre. After one turn around, a second is guided from the first, then a third, and so on, perhaps one-third of the distance out to the frame. This spiral is not sticky, and is only a temporary bracing, to be destroyed later. The last process consists in laying the outer or snaring spiral of sticky thread. She starts well out towards the frame on some radius and attaches a thread. She runs in to the temporary spiral, crosses over to the next radius, runs out till nearly opposite the starting-point, pulls the thread taut and attaches it; one chord is in place. Sometimes she keeps on going around and around in one direction, sometimes she reverses the direction to pile more chords on one side, thereby reducing a web that has a very unsymmetrical contour to near symmetry at the centre. When near the middle she destroys the temporary spiral as she goes along (Fig. 1).⁸

      In studying this process we find two points of interest:

      How does the spider manage to make the angular openings of the radii almost equal?

      How is the spiralling effected?

      The uniformity of the angular openings is observable in the figure, and is truly surprising, for the radii are laid out, as shown above, in haphazard order, and the spider does not see the web as a whole from a distance. I frankly do not know how to explain this. The explanation in Hingston¹, p. 92, is absurd, for it consists in saying that the uniformity of the central angles results from laying off uniform distances on the frame. But a glance at the figure shows that the distances on the frame are far from uniform, and uniform distances on an irregular frame would not produce uniform angles at the centre. The best explanation I can offer is that a certain uniformity of the chords in making the temporary spiral would tend to start the radii out from the centre at approximately equal angles, and a similar uniformity of chords of the snaring spiral might equalize the angular openings farther out. There might result from this a bending of the radii in passing from one spiral to another, or outside the snaring spiral, and something of this sort is appreciable in the figure.

      FIG. 1

      With regard to question B, Hingston¹ is sure that the spider uses different parts of her body as measuring rods, gradually decreasing the width as she approaches the centre. He tried the experiment of cutting out a chord just after it was laid: when the spider came around there the next turn she was at a loss to know how to guide herself. The tendency of this process would be to approach the form of an Archimedian spiral, and the figure suggests something of the sort. Fabre had the curious idea that the chords made a constant angle with the radii, so that the form approached would be the logarithmic spiral; I can see no justification for this.

      § 2. Babylonian Geometry.

      The earliest records we have of man’s activity in the field of geometry come to us from Babylonia. The uncertainty about dates is here extreme, a probable error of five hundred years seems to trouble the archaeologists not at all. The oldest mathematical record that has come to my notice deals with the measurement of certain quadrilaterals. It is deciphered in Allotte de la Fuÿe and put down to the pre-Sargonic or Sumerian period, say approximately 3000 B.C.

      What occupied the geometers of five thousand years ago? The answer is that they were occupied with geometry (γεωμετρ α), which means Earth measurement, and most of our Babylonian, as distinguished from our Egyptian records, deal with this topic. In the present collection we are asked to find the areas of three types of quadrilaterals, namely those where two, three, or four measurements are given. When we have but two measures de la Fuÿe assumes that we are concerned with a rectangle, and that the measures are its dimensions; a very reasonable conjecture. The idea that the area of a rectangle is the product of its two measurements must have come to the first people who thought of areas at all. When we have three measures the translator assumes that we are dealing with what he calls a rectangular trapezoid, i.e. a quadrilateral where one side is perpendicular to two others. This figure, as far as we can judge from drawings, is one with which the Babylonians were familiar, for it appears in early surveys where the area of a complicated lot is determined by subdividing it into smaller lots. When four measures are given the area stated is in every case greater than possible no matter what the shape. de la Fuÿe explains this by the ingenious hypothesis that the Babylonians used for area in terms of sides the incorrect formula

      This gives the correct result only in the case of the rectangle. It is curious that we find the same incorrect formula in an Egyptian inscription that scarcely antedated the Christian era.

      We find problems of similar sorts in various places. In Neugebauer¹ we have surveying and area problems which lead to systems of linear equations and, in one place, to a quadratic one. Another set are found in Thureau-Dangin (q.v.). Here a field is divided into rectangles, right triangles and rectangular trapezoids, as described above. The total area is calculated from two different sets of measures, and the divergent results averaged. It is interesting to note that the Babylonians realized that there must be slight errors of observation, and sought means to obviate them.

      The attention of early Babylonian geometers was largely confined to problems in plane geometry, but there remain some traces of attention paid to three-dimensional problems. An example of such is found on a tablet dug up by the University of Pennsylvania expedition. The date of this is obscure;⁹ it was apparently graven at some time in the second millennium before Christ. We do not know exactly what solid is in question, presumably a cube, since the lateral surfaces are upright and the ends equal, but Hilprecht thinks it a cylinder, since this is the limiting form for the frustum of a cone, and the earliest containers we have dug up are of this last shape. It is certain that the Babylonians were familiar with solids having curved surfaces, and had rules for their measurement. We have conclusive proof of this in Neugebauer and Struve (q.v.), where we find the translation of some cuneiform texts in the British Museum. Unfortunately we know little of their dates; Budge merely states ‘Two early Semitic Babylonian texts undated’.¹⁰ This is vague enough, but 2000 B.C. might not be a bad guess.

      The first notable feature here is that the Babylonians certainly took 3 as the value of π. Let us consider the implications of this for a moment. It was natural enough that the Babylonians should have realized that the circumference of a circle was proportional to the diameter: to realize that the area is proportional to the square of the diameter calls for a much higher mathematical capacity. But how could any one capable of this have imagined that the circumference of a circle is three times the diameter? The first man who drew a circle in the sand must have tried the experiment of seeing what would happen if he laid off successive chords of radius length, and have found that after six steps he was back where he started, he would have found the inscribed regular hexagon. But if the circumference were three times the diameter, one of these chords would be equal to its arc; how could the Babylonians have imagined that? Well, Cantor¹¹ accepts this unreservedly, and says that therein is the explanation of the idea that π as equal to 3; personally I find it hard to believe this. The most likely hypothesis is that they thought this a sufficiently good approximation, which leaves us wondering just how far they thought mathematical statements were absolutely exact and how far mere approximations. The idea that π is equal to 3 is by no means confined to Babylon—we find it in the Bible (see 1 Kings vii. 23, and 2 Chronicles iv. 2).

      I mentioned above that the Babylonians were familiar with the frustum of a cone of revolution. They do not speak of the solid by that name, but calculate the volume of a basket which Neugebauer and Struve assume was of this shape. We shall run across calculations for a basket later in connexion with the Egyptians. The formula which the Babylonians use for their basket is the incorrect one,

      where h is the height and B1, B2 are the two bases. Where did they get the idea of this formula? Presumably they were familiar with the fact that the volume of a cylinder is the product of base and altitude, and took for the frustum the average of the cylinders on the two bases. We shall see later that this idea of averaging was prevalent among early geometers.

      The most interesting fact connected with the Babylonian geometers was their familiarity with the Pythagorean theorem. In 1916 Weidner (q.v.) gave the translation of what he called ‘zwei außerst sinnreiche Methoden’ for finding the hypotenuse of a right triangle with known legs; the date was about 2000 B.C. The legs being a and b, the first approximation is

      and the second

      The curious denominator in the first seems to come from juggling with 60, the basis of the number system in Babylonia, the second is better:

      The Pythagorean theorem appears even more clearly in Neugebauer and Struve’s translation of another of the cuneiform texts, which we may date somewhere around 2600 B.C. The problem is to find the length of a chord of a circle when we know the radius, and the depth of the sector.

      ‘One is the circumference, two is the perpendicular, find the chord.

      ‘Thou, square 2 and get 4, doest thou not see? Take 4 from 20, thou gettest 16. Square 20, thou gettest 6, 40. Square 16, thou gettest 4, 16. Take 4, 16 from 6, 40, thou gettest 2, 24. Find the square root of 2, 24. 12 the square root is the chord. This is the method.’

      Here is the explanation. Let b be the depth of the segment, d the diameter. Draw the diameters to the ends of the chord, and to a second chord which is the reflection of the first in the centre. Complete the rectangle whose opposite sides are the parallel chords. This is divided into two right triangles whose hypotenuses are d, and having each a side d−2b. Hence we have for the chord

      .

      The phrase ‘square the chord’ is confusing, what we need to do is to double the length of the chord; in the present case the two processes amount to the same thing. The triangle happens to be essentially a 3, 4, 5 one, but these figures are almost universal in early Pythagorean problems; it seems certain that the Sumerians understood the general principle. It is to be noted also that they knew the theorem, usually ascribed to Thales of Miletus, that an angle inscribed in a semicircle is a right angle.

      Another interesting tablet, dealing with a Pythagorean problem, is to be found in Thureau-Dangin (q.v.). I give his translation:

      ‘(Soit) un pala 30″, c’est à dire une canne. En haut il est descendu de 6″, en bas de combien s’est-il éloigné?

      ‘Toi, carre 30″, tu trouveras 15′. Sou(trais) 6″ de 30″ (tu trouveras 24″). Carre 24″, tu trouveras 9′ 36″. Soutrais 9′ 36″ de 15′, tu trouveras 5′ 24″. 5′24″ est combien au carre? C’est 18″ au carre. De 18″ sur le sol il s’est éloigné.

      The meaning, of course, is this. A straight rod of length 30 in. stands upright, then it slips so that the upper end slides 6 in. down a vertical wall. How far has the foot come out?

      Another interesting problem in Thureau-Dangin is this. How do you find the volume of a frustum of a regular pyramid of square base? Here we have a curious coincidence, the scribe uses the incorrect formula

      instead of the correct one

      and then makes a mistake in calculation so that the answer comes out right. The translator, p. 88, frames the curious hypothesis that the scribe, knowing the correct formula, amused himself by getting the correct result from an incorrect formula.

      § 3. Egyptian Geometry.

      It was commonly stated, until recent times, that geometry originated in Egypt. This can never have been held to be literal truth. It is absurd to seek an Egyptian origin in the applied geometry whereby an Eskimo builds a hemispherical igloo from blocks laid in a spiral. Yet the view is so common that it is worth while giving the passage on which it is based in Herodotus.¹²

      ‘Sesostris also, they declared, made division of the soil of Egypt among the inhabitants, assigning square plots of equal size to all, and obtaining his chief revenue from the rent which the holders were required to pay him every year. If the river carried away any portion of a man’s lot he appeared before the king, and related what had happened; upon which the king sent persons to examine and determine by measurement the exact extent of the loss, and henceforth only such rent was demanded of him as was proportional to the reduced size of the land. From this practice, I think, Geometry first came to Egypt, whence it passed to Greece.’

      It is safer to start with the statement that we do not know exactly how geometry originated, in Egypt, or anywhere else. Let us see what are the earliest geometrical fragments we have.¹³ The inscriptions on tombs tell us little; the earliest really important document is the Moscow Papyrus, of which we have a complete translation in Struve (q.v.). This work is rather overlaid with learning; we find the four geometrical problems in more accessible form in Gunn and Peet (q.v.). The first of these may be stated as follows:

      ‘The area of a rectangle is 12, and the width is three-quarters of the length, what are the dimensions ?’

      that of the rectangle and so 16, hence it would have a side of 4. The shorter side would then be 3.

      times the other, the area is 20, what are the dimensions ? You double the rectangle so as to form a square, and proceed as before. The third problem is similar, but in the fourth we find the gem of Egyptian geometry. ¹⁴

      ‘If you are told: A truncated pyramid of 6 for the vertical height by 4 on the base by 2 on the top. You are to square this 4, result 16. You are to double 4, result 8. You are to square 2, result 4. You are to add the 16, the 8, and the 4, result 28. You are to take one third of 6, result 2. You are to take 28 twice, result 56. See, it is 56. You will find (it) right.’

      If we bear in mind that the Egyptians, like other early people, always stated problems in concrete terms, it is clear that the writer was familiar with the formula for the volume of a frustum written above

      It is truly astonishing that this formula was known some 1,800 to 1,900 years before Christ. The interesting question is, how was it discovered? On this point there is sharp division of opinion. Gunn and Peet, pp. 179–95, assume a frustum constructed of mud or some plastic substance, then subdivided into figures of a type whose volumes were known, some of the subdivisions being rectangular pyramids. How did they know the volumes of these? I confess that I am very sceptical as to this explanation, as well as the similar one in Neugebauer¹, pp. 126 ff.

      A radically different hypothesis is found in Thomas, W. R. (q.v.). Here it is assumed that the Egyptians were familiar with the formula for the volume of a rectangular pyramid, and the algebraic identity

      If we assume the frustum completed to a pyramid, and subtract the volume of the completing pyramid from the whole, we find with a little algebraic juggling the correct formula. But did the Egyptians know even the simplest algebraic processes or identities?

      My own preference is for a more prosaic explanation, to be found in Vogel (q.v.). We have seen how easy it is to believe that the Babylonians reached some of their formulae by a process of averaging, why might not the Egyptians have done something similar? A first guess would naturally be

      It might be found experimentally that this was incorrect. Why not, then, average three rectangular parallelepipeds instead of two, this would give

      Vogel expresses himself as follows:

      ‘If we see in the formula of 1850 B.C. the correctly derived formula for the volume of a truncated pyramid we must allow the Egyptians, side by side with a highly developed art of experiment, the arithmetical and algebraical equipment necessary to such derivation in its full extent. On the other hand, if my suggested explanation be accepted, we ares no longer compelled to attribute to Egyptians constructions and mental processes outside their ken.’

      There is one other question to be taken up here. We have assumed that one of the measurements taken is the height of the frustum or pyramid. We have no philological grounds for settling this question, and are thrown back on common sense. We find the same question in simpler form in the formulae for the area of a triangle. The triangles in their pictures look like long and undernourished isosceles triangles, and some commentators have assumed that the Egyptians believed that the area of an isosceles triangle is one-half the product of two unequal sides. ¹⁵ Personally it seems to me unlikely that a people who could find the formula for the volume of a frustum would fall into this error. The triangles in the pictures look about as much like right triangles as isosceles ones. Granting that they knew the formula for the area of a rectangle, they would find that for a right triangle by putting two together, and the general triangle by dissection.

      Another problem in the Moscow Papyrus has created a good deal of discussion. It is that of finding the area of a basket.¹⁶ This may be a hemisphere of given diameter, but we find in Peet two other translations which are interesting. The derived formula

      will give us the area of a semicircle, if x be the radius, or a hemisphere if x be the diameter. There is a long discussion in Neugebauer⁴, pp. 131–5; he favours Peet’s interpretation. The interesting point here is the value of π, which is the very excellent one

      How did the Egyptians reach this approximation? There have been many guesses. Simon¹, p. 43, assumes that they compared the contents of cylindrical and cubical containers. Vacca¹ has the ingenious idea that a circle was drawn on a background of finely ruled squares, the portion of squares partly in and partly out were measured by eye. What strikes me personally about the approximation is that the value taken is a perfect square. Might they not have proceeded like this? A square whose side is a diameter is clearly too large. In what proportion should we reduce this diameter in order that the square thereon should have the area of the circle? A careful drawing might show that a square whose side was of the diameter did very well.

      Let us return to Struve, pp. 176 ff. He reconstructs the story of the Egyptian discovery of the formulae for measuring curved bodies as follows. The experimenter first compares the perimeter of a circle, measured with a string and that of a circumscribed square, and reaches the conclusion

      .

      He next considers solid bodies and finds by experiment that a sphere has two-thirds the weight of a circumscribed cylinder. This gives the volume of the sphere, for the volume and area of the cylinder are easily guessed. Lastly, he makes one more lucky guess, namely, that the areas of the sphere and cylinder are in the ratio of their volumes, and this gives the difficult formula for the area of the sphere

      I am much impressed with the ingenuity of this reasoning, but not by its plausibility. What would lead early experimenters to guess that the areas of a circle and circumscribed square were proportional to their perimeters? The guesses based on the cylinder and sphere seem even wilder. We have no evidence that the early Egyptians knew these formulae, we do not know that they could calculate the area of a sphere.

      .

      A great deal of discussion has arisen in connexion with that which the English call the ‘batter’ of a rectangular pyramid. This culinary term has some connexion with the inclination of the sloping sides, and the Egyptian word, which is written segd, sekdm, skd, etc., refers to some ratio connected with an angle of a pyramid. The interesting thing is that by 1650 B.C. the Egyptians conceived some sort of a trigonometric function as a ratio. This raises another question. How clearly did they conceive the idea of similar figures and proportionality? We are safe in assuming that the earliest geometers must have had a clear conception of both of these. In fact the problem of drawing a figure similar to a given figure, but on a different scale, is very early. On the walls of the chamber of the tomb of Seti I, built early in the thirteenth century B.C., we see an example of the simple scheme of covering a given figure with a rectangular network, which is reproduced elsewhere on a smaller scale, corresponding points lying in corresponding squares. This is nothing but determining points by their Cartesian coordinates, and then subjecting the figure to a uniform shrinkage. ¹⁷

      It is a curious fact that we know singularly little of the progress of Egyptian geometry from the early times just mentioned till the establishment of a Greek school of geometers in Alexandria after the death of Alexander the Great. We are familiar with the works of Ptolemy, Theon, Heron, Pappus, and others, but what of the twenty centuries that intervened? We have seen that Herodotus declared that geometry came to Greece from Egypt, and this seems plausible. An incalculable impetus came to Greek mathematics from the school of Pythagoras, and the founder of that school studied in Egypt. It is quite impossible to distinguish Pythagoras’ own discoveries from those of his followers, ¹⁸ as it was the custom to ascribe everything to the master, so that we cannot tell what geometry Pythagoras brought with him from Egypt. In any case, the progress in Egyptian geometry between the Moscow Papyrus and Pythagoras must have been small. In fact one could make out quite plausibly that there was a regress. In the tomb of Ptolemy XI, who died in 51 B.C., ¹⁹ we find the incorrect quadrilateral area formula

      Let us pause for a moment to ponder the fact that the Egyptians are here reproducing an erroneous formula used by the Babylonians three thousand years before.

      § 4. Indian Geometry.

      The next primitive geometers whom we should consider are the Hindus. At the beginning of the study of their work we have the same difficulty in the matter of dates. This is particularly important in the Indian case as bearing on the question of how far Indian mathematics was influenced by that of other countries. We shall presently see that the Hindus early had a penchant for the Pythagorean theorem; it was maintained at one time that they learnt this from Greece, but that view is no longer tenable.

      The earliest Indian mathematics is found in the Sulvasutras or Sulba-Sutras, ‘Rules of the cord’. Let the reader note this is cord, not chord; it is a question of geometrical constructions effected by means of rope-stretching, a concept familiar also to the Egyptians. Moreover, curiously enough, the purpose of these early rules was religious, the construction of sacrificial altars. It was believed that the greatest accuracy in construction and orientation was essential in order to give them the necessary sanctity. The culminating task was to construct an altar in the shape of a falcon.

      There were seven sets of Sulvasutras, the most important being those of Baudhayama and Apastamba. They are compared in Thibaut (q.v.), while Apastamba’s work is thoroughly studied in Bürk (q.v.). This writer places Apastamba at least 500 years before Christ and believes that certain important features go back as far as 800 B.C.²⁰

      The central geometrical figure in the Sulvasutras is the square. Curiously enough, the problems of constructing a right angle and of constructing a square are treated as entirely separate. A right angle is found by constructing a triangle of prescribed sides by bending the rope. It is interesting that the lengths given in the first problem are 15, 36, and 39, from a rope of length 90. These are proportional to 5, 12, 13, and not to the more customary 3, 4, 5. The next theorem states explicitly:²¹ ‘The cord stretched in the diagonal of an oblong produces both (areas) which the cords forming the longer and shorter side produce.’ Here is the Pythagorean theorem stated in its most general form although, curiously enough, the square and general rectangle are treated separately.

      squares, and then add the square altar thereto. The early date of altars so constructed suggests that the Pythagorean theorem was known to the Hindus as early as 3000 B.C.,²² antedating our earliest Sumerian records of it, and this does not seem impossible, but some Western scholars feel that the Indians exercise a good deal of fantasy in their claims of dates.

      If the Hindus could not prove the Pythagorean theorem, how did they discover it? This question is a popular subject of controversy. I may mention Cantor¹, pp. 634 ff., Zeuthen², Vogt¹, and Heath (vol. i, pp. 352 ff.). Perhaps some early rope-stretcher noted that the lengths 3, 4, 5, and 5, 12, 13 gave right triangles, and also noted that

      3² + 4² = 5²,  5²+ 12² = 13².

      Perhaps the theorem was discovered by means of a dissection. When we come to consider Chinese mathematics we shall find a simple proof of the rectangularity of the 3, 4, 5, triangle obtained in this way. Or, lastly, if we draw the diagonals on a plane ruled with squares, we are quickly led to it in the case where the right triangle is isosceles. The general case may then be inferred from the isosceles case. My own view is that the method of dissection is most likely, but I do not hold it with much conviction.

      Two other important problems which interested the writers of the Sulvasutras were the construction of a square equal to the sum or difference of two given squares. The first of these was handled by the Pythagorean theorem, the second in fairly obvious fashion. The problem of constructing a rectangle on a given segment equivalent to a given square is handled clumsily—the Greek gnomon which we shall study presently solves it much better. This is suggested by a commentator on the Sulvasutras of Baudhayama.²³ When it comes to constructing a circle equivalent to a given square, we are told to increase half the length of one side by one-third of the difference between itself and half the length of the diagonal, an easy, but inaccurate construction which gives

      π = 3·088.

      The first Indian mathematician after the Sulvasutras, and he came long after, whose name is often mentioned, is Aryabhata (q.v.). He wrote at some time early in the sixth century of our era; his work is a poem in thirty-three couplets called the Ganita. There is reason to believe that he had felt the influence of the Alexandrine Greek geometers even though they did not have the unfortunate habit of writing in verse. ²⁴ Let us reproduce one or two couplets:

      (6) The area of a triangle is the product of the perpendicular and half the base. The half of the product of this area and the height is the volume of the solid of six edges.

      (7) Half the circumference multiplied by half the diameter gives the area of the circle, this area multiplied by its own square root gives the exact value of the sphere.

      It is interesting that in each of these cases he is correct in plano but goes hopelessly wrong in the third dimension.

      (4) Add 4 to 100, multiply by 8, and add 6,2000the result is approximately the circumference of a circle of which the diameter is 20,000.

      This gives

      This is the most famous result obtained by Aryabhata, and has given rise to not a little speculation. It has been pointed out that in finding it the writer was influenced by Greek mathematics, for none but the Greeks took 10,000 as a unit.²⁵ Ball, W. (q.v.), p. 298, assumes that he took the formula for the chord of half an arc in terms of the chord of the arc and worked up successive polygons of from 6 to 384 sides, but there seems no internal evidence for this.

      The next mathematician to claim our attention, perhaps the most famous of the Indian mathematicians, was Brahmagupta, whose work appeared in 628, and is given in detail in Colebrooke (q.v.). As a Hindu his principal interest is in arithmetic and algebra, but some of his geometry attracted attention. He makes a clear distinction between exact and approximate results.

      The geometrical figure which interested Brahmagupta particularly was the inscriptible quadrilateral. He finds for the area of this the formula which bears his name

      F = √{(s–a)(s–b)(s–c)(s–d)}

      where

      2s = a+b+c+d.

      He does not speak of quadrilaterals, but of the tetragon; his work is incorrect unless we interpret the word as inscriptible quadrilateral. In particular, he takes the case where the diagonals are mutually perpendicular. Among other formulae he proves that if the segments of the diagonals be e1, e2, f1, f2, the radius of the circumscribed circle is

      Now Chasles ²⁶ has made the interesting remark that this formula is taken from Archimedes, being Proposition 11 of the Book of Lemmas.

      Brahmagupta gives also a curious derivation of the frustum of a pyramid which we discussed in connexion with the Moscow Papyrus. Here the question takes another guise, we are asked to find the volume of an excavation, square on top and bottom and of given depth.

      ‘The area deduced from the moieties of the sums of the sides at top and bottom being multiplied by the depth is the practical measure of the content. Half the sum of the areas at top and bottom, multiplied by the depth gives the gross content. Subtracting the practical content from the other, divide the difference by 3, and add the quotient to the practical content, the sum is the neat content.’

      This amounts to the complicated identity

      How did Brahmagupta ever reach the correct formula in this curious way? The best guess I can make is this: he may have heard of the result somewhere. We have seen that it was known to the Egyptians, we shall presently see that the Chinese knew it also. He sets about justifying a traditional formula. The practical content is a prism standing on the mid-section. This is his first guess. A second guess would be a prism standing on the average of the two bases. These two give different values. Let us modify the first by adding to it a multiple of the difference between the two. He takes one-third as a coefficient, perhaps because he thereby reaches the traditional result.

      I personally find it hard to make up my mind as to the importance of Brahmagupta’s work. It is hard to be patient with one who mixes truth and error so freely. Some of his work on the quadrilateral is excellent, though I cannot share Chasles’ great enthusiasm. I lean to the view expressed by Kaye:²⁷

      ‘The geometrical work of Brahmagupta is almost what we might expect to find in the period of decay in Alexandria. It contains one or two gems, but is not a scientific exposition of the subject and the material is obviously taken from Western works.’

      The last Hindu writer I shall mention is Bhaskara, who lived some 500 years after Brahmagupta, but whose geometrical work is little but an amplification of what the latter wrote. His writing is given in Colebrooke (q.v.) and discussed at length in Chasles¹. He has a passion for the Pythagorean theorem, and begins his work on plane figures with a large number of applications of it. Here is one, No. 153:

      ‘In a certain lake, swarming with red geese, the tip of a bud of lotus was seen a span above the surface of the water. Forced by the wind it gradually advanced, and was submerged at a distance of two cubits. Compute quickly, mathematician, the depth of the pond.’

      This problem is interesting, and we find the following counterpart in the Chinese Arithmetic in Nine Sections to be mentioned presently:

      ‘There grows in the middle of a pond 10 feet square a reed which projects one foot out of the water. When it is drawn down it just reaches the edge of the pond. How deep is the water?’

      The question of cultural interchange between India and China is a very interesting one. I might mention that the Chinese problem was propounded some 1300 years before Bhaskara’s time.

      Bhaskara shows an advance over Brahmagupta in his treatment of the circle. His value of π is the excellent approximation which we have already seen in Aryabhata. He knows how to find the superficial area and volume of the sphere. He is much interested in the problem of finding the length of a side of a regular inscribed polygon, taking in turn all the polygons of three to nine sides. He gives the following curious rule:²⁸

      ‘Rule. The circumference, less the arc, being multiplied by the arc, the product is termed the first. From the quarter of the square of the circumference multiplied by 5, subtract the first product, by the remainder divide the first product taken into four times the diameter, the quotient will be the chord.’

      Let us notice three special cases:

      Not at all bad. Colebrooke tells in a footnote how this was obtained, but the assumptions made are quite inexplicable. Chasles is very much intrigued by it:²⁹

      ‘Cette formule est très curieuse, il serait intéressant de savoir comment les Indiens y sont parvenus. M. Servois l’a obtenu en prenant la formule qui donne en série, le sinus d‘un arc en fonction de cet arc.’ (Voir Correspondance de l’École Polytechnique III, 3me Cahier).

      I have not been able to see the article of Servois, but find it hard to understand how he had a series development for sin 2π which did not involve π.

      Bhaskara has his own formula for the volume of a frustum of a rectangular pyramid, his No. 221:

      ‘The aggregates of the areas at the top and bottom, and of that resulting from sum (of the sides of the summit and of the base) being divided by 6, the quotient is the mean area. That multiplied by the depth is the neat content.

      ‘This is the correct formula

      It is almost the modern prismatoid formula which we should write

      I must confess that except for the Sulvasutras, I feel little enthusiasm for Indian geometry. I quote in support of my pessimism:³⁰

      ‘The later Indian mathematicians completely ignored the contents of the Sulvasutras.’

      Or from the same writer:³¹

      ‘Demonstrations and proofs are more or less ignored by the early Hindu mathematicians. None is given in the early Hindu works, and the first attempts at rigorous proofs occur in commentaries of the 16th century A.D. . . . They gave no definitions, preserved no logical order, they did not care whether the rules they used were properly established or not, and were generally indifferent to fundamental principles.’

      It is not to be wondered at that Kaye’s name is anathema to Hindu scholars, who accuse him of all sorts of crimes and misdemeanours. A specimen will be found in Ganguli (q.v.). But others have held equally critical opinions. Al Bairuni, who was no mean astronomer, wrote 900 years ago, after long study in India:³²

      ‘The Hindus had no men of this stamp (Socrates) both capable and willing to bring the sciences to perfection. Therefore you mostly find that often the so-called scientific theorems of the Hindus are in a state of utter confusion, devoid of any logical order, and, in the last instance, always mixed with the silly notions of the crowd. I can only compare their mathematics to a mixture of pearls, shells, and sour dates, or pearls and dung, or costly crystals and common pebbles.’

      ³³ 5. The Chinese and Japanese.

      The last people whose early mathematics deserves study are the Chinese and Japanese. The difficulty of fixing dates which we have already encountered is found in the case of the Chinese, although for a different reason. In 213 B.C. the Chinese Emperor Chi Hoang Ti decreed that all books in the Empire should be burned. Now it is altogether unthinkable that this prudent edict should have been carried out completely. Many books must have been preserved in secret and much copied from memory in the next following years, and the Chinese memory is proverbial. But the result is that we are in great doubt as to the genuineness of anything which purports to be older than the fatal date.³⁴

      The earliest Chinese work dealing with astronomy which deserves our attention is the so-called Chou-pei, or thigh-bone of Chou. The most plausible explanation for this bizarre title is that it deals with the draughtsman’s triangle and a thigh-bone suggests a right angle. The difficulties connected with this document are formidable. We do not know who wrote it, nor surely what he was trying to say, and we know the original work only through transcriptions. With regard to the date, the earlier writers favoured the hypothesis that it was decidedly ancient.³⁵ More recent scholars hold the opinion that the ascription of scientific works to early writers was a device to add to their repute. I regret to say that I have not been able to read any of the more recent commentaries on the Chou-pei, as they are in Chinese. I can only quote a letter from my colleague, Professor C. S. Gardner, written in March 1936: ‘Henri Maspero in his masterly article L’astronomie chinoise avant les Han Young Pao XXVI (1929) says that the book appears to him to date from the former Han dynasty (206 B.C. to A.D. 23). Ch‘ien Pao-Tsung in his history of Chinese mathematics, Pt. I, Pekin 1932, after punctiliously citing earlier articles. . . reaches the conclusion that it probably dates from the years immediately preceding the Christian era. On the other hand Liu, in his history of Chinese mathematics, places it before 400 B.C.’

      It is pretty hard to determine what the text means. I have compared four different translations. The clearest if not the most idiomatic English is that of Mikami:³³

      ‘The art of numbers is derived from the circle and the square. The circle is derived from the square and the square from the kuei or right-angled lineal. The lineal comes from

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