The Ancient Engineers, page 3
Even today, numbers of ancient manuscripts lie in the great libraries of Asia and North Africa, unread, uncatalogued, and untranslated. Many might shed additional light on medieval oriental science and engineering. Some may even be translations of supposedly lost Greek works on these subjects. One of the most urgent tasks of scholarship is the publication and translation of these works before the originals are vaporized in another war. A few scholars work at this task as time and chance permit, but the number of workers is small for the size of the job.
As nearly as we can reconstruct the evidence, the earliest civilizations were patchworks of little independent city-states, ever fighting one another. Government varied as power shuffled back and forth among the dominant groups: the king and his cronies, the priesthood, the senate (a gathering of the heads of the richest families), and the assembly (a meeting of the fighting men of the group). Women, poor men, and slaves, having neither wealth, arms, nor magical powers, did not count.
The government—whether a theocracy, a monarchy, or a republic-controlled not only the dwellers in the city but also as many of the peasants of the neighboring countryside as could be persuaded or coerced into accepting the city's "protection." In return for military service and taxes, the peasants, willy-nilly, got centralized control of their irrigation systems, defense against foreign invaders, and some rough-and-ready law and justice.
In time, the march of technology made the city-state obsolete. Where a river system forms a single large watershed, an irrigation system works better when it is ruled by one central administration. Thus, in the valleys of the Nile, the Tigris and Euphrates, the Indus, and the Hwang-ho, conditions favored the extension of one state's rule over all the others in the watershed. Historians argue whether empire came first and made possible large-scale irrigation, or whether large-scale irrigation came first and encouraged the growth of empire. Probably the former is more nearly right, but there was also a mutual effect. Each institution fostered and strengthened the other as it grew.
In the large watersheds of wet countries, such as the valleys of the Ganges and the Mekong, irrigation was less important. But here the need to protect the valley dwellers from floods promoted the centralization of government.
Because of the benefits of large-scale government in such a river valley, a city-state or a king who had conquered half of a watershed could easily gobble up the remaining half. The conqueror's subjects accepted him, however grudgingly, because of these economic advantages. And, once established, he was hard to get rid of.
Under the conditions of early river-valley civilization, even a bad emperor might be better than none at all. While men feared cruel and rapacious rulers, even more they feared a time of anarchy. The Indians called it "the way of the fishes," when the strong devoured the weak without hindrance. Their poets chanted:
A river without water,
A forest without grass,
A herd of cattle without a herdsman,
Is the land without a king.1
So important was the distribution of water in such a polity that the German-American scholar Wittfogel refers to a watershed empire of the type we have discussed as a "hydraulic state." While the government of city-states took various forms, such as limited monarchy, aristocratic republic, and popular dictatorship, ancient empires tended to be absolute monarchies of the most despotic kind. The king was deemed a god, or the son of a god, or at least the special agent of a god. His word was law. Government was a centralized, authoritarian despotism of—it would seem to us—the most tyrannical and oppressive sort.
Moreover, nobody seems to have seriously considered a large-scale government of any other kind. In ancient republics the voters, who were only a fraction of the total population, had to gather together to vote in person. Although such a scheme shares power to some extent and works fairly well in a small city-state, it is impractical in a large nation.
There were plenty of revolts, revolutions, and civil wars in the ancient empires. It was a rare king whose death did not result in a war among his would-be successors^ and provinces that had once been separate nations repeatedly sought to regain their independence. But, while many kings were overthrown or murdered, the sole result was to replace one despot by another who, his supporters hoped, would prove a better king.
Sometimes a watershed empire broke up into parts as a result of domestic disorder or foreign conquest. But, after a few decades of the joys and sorrows of anarchy and incessant strife, the people of the watershed were once more prepared to submit to the rule of an all-powerful emperor.
From the rise of the first watershed empires down to the achievement of temporary world mastery by Europe after 1600, man's history largely consists of the story of the mighty empires that rose in the Main Civilized Belt, spread far beyond the confines of a single watershed, flourished for a time, and withered away. Sometimes they lasted for centuries, sometimes for a few years only.
Thus the Assyrian Empire gave way to the Median, and that to the Persian, and that to the Macedonian, and that to the Roman, and that to the Arab, and that to the Turkish. A long succession of other empires, in Iran, India, China, and Central Asia, flourished beside these westerly realms. And many of the rulers of these domains—however good or bad in other respects—were among the world's greatest builders of public works and, therefore, the greatest patrons of the engineering profession.
For, whatever their sins and oppressions, some early despots did much for those they ruled. A king with any brains tries to make his people prosper, if only so that he can tax them. Rulers of ancient empires built roads, which fostered commerce and communication. But the principal purpose of these roads, as of the governmental postal systems that operated over them, was to keep a swift stream of commands and inquiries flowing out from the capital to all parts of the realm, and an equally lively stream of information and tribute flowing back, for the benefit of the ruler. However they might disagree on other matters, a king and his subjects had a common interest in keeping up roads and canals, suppressing brigandage and piracy, and maintaining order.
Nowadays we draw fine distinctions among the meanings of such words as craftsman, engineer, technician, and inventor. The United States Patent Office has elaborate rules for deciding whether an invention is original, or whether it is merely "an improvement obvious to one skilled in the art," such as a change in size, strength, speed, proportions, or materials.
In speaking of ancient technical men, however, there is no point in observing such delicate differences. Every time an ancient craftsman made something that was not a close copy of a previous article, he invented, even though his invention might not be patentable according to modern laws.
We think of an engineer as a man who designs some structure or machine, or who directs the building of it, or who operates and maintains it. In practice most ancient engineers were inventors; while most ancient inventors, at least after the rise of civilization, could also be classed as engineers. So let us lump all these ancient innovators and designers together as "engineers."
Despite the enormous importance of engineers and inventors in making our daily life what it is, history does not tell much about them. The earliest historical records were made by priests praising their gods and poets flattering their kings. Neither cared much about such mundane matters as technology.
As a result, ancient legend and history are one-sided. We hear much about mighty kings and heroic warriors, somewhat less about priests, philosophers, and artists, and very little about the engineers who built the stages on which these players performed their parts. The warriors Achilles and Hector were celebrated in song and story—but the forgotten genius who, about the time of the siege of Troy, invented the safety pin, lies wholly forgotten. Everybody has heard of Julius Caesar —but who knows about his contemporary Sergius Orata, the Roman building contractor who invented central indirect house heating? Yet Orata has affected our daily lives far more than Caesar ever did.
Nevertheless, of all the phases of civilized life, the advance of technology gives the best ground for belief in progress. If there is any consistent nattern of evolution in politics and government, it is not easy to discern. Great soldiers and statesmen have built up empires—but a few generations later these empires faded away as though they had never been. In the field of government, many people thought half a century ago that there was a natural evolutionary trend towards the democratic republic—but then many parts of the world turned in the other direction, towards authoritarian despotism. It is mere soothsaying to predict what form of government, if any, will finally prevail.
Likewise, great world religions like Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Hinduism, with their tightly organized priesthoods and their closely reasoned theologies, have in the last two thousand years won most of the world away from the unorganized pagan and tribal cults. But the world religions differ basically among themselves and are no nearer to scientific proof of their discordant claims about the nature of man and the gods than when they were founded. Today, in many lands, they are losing ground to the pseudo-scientific philosophy of Marxism.
Pure science has advanced enormously in the last three centuries. But, looked at over the whole stretch of recorded history, the advance of science has been erratic. It has leaped ahead in sudden spurts, shot off on pseudo-scientific tangents like astrology and alchemy, become embroiled in religious and political conflicts, and sometimes been repudiated by whole nations.
In the arts, people's tastes have changed from age to age, but in a capricious and faddish manner. People have often abandoned some canon of beauty in painting, sculpture, architecture, music, or poetry and embraced another simply because they were bored with the old and eager to try something new.
But through all the ages of history, one human institution—technology —has plodded ahead. While empires rose and fell, forms of government went through their erratic cycles, science flared up and guttered out, men burned each other over differences of creed, and the masses pursued bizarre fads and fashions, the engineers went ahead with raising their city walls, erecting their temples and palaces, paving their roads, digging their canals, tinkering with their machines, and soberly and rationally building upon the discoveries of those who had gone before.
So, if there is any one progressive, consistent movement in human history, it is neither political, nor religious, nor aesthetic. Until recent centuries it was not even scientific. It is the growth of technology, under the guidance of the engineers.
Technology has progressed continuously from the time of the Agricultural Revolution 10,000 years ago, slowly and hesitantly at first, then with increasing sureness and speed. The sixteenth century marked the beginning of modern engineering because, from that time on, professional societies were formed, treatises on engineering subjects were printed in quantity, engineering schools sprang up, specialization within the profession began, and engineers began to take advantage of the brilliant scientific discoveries of the time. The Industrial Revolution, which started two centuries ago and is still going on, was a surge in the growth of technology. Barring nuclear war, the end of this fruition of engineering is nowhere in sight.
Today, in technologically advanced lands, men live very similar lives in spite of geographical, religious, and political differences. The daily lives of a Christian bank clerk in Chicago, a Buddhist bank clerk in Tokyo, and a Communist bank clerk in Moscow are far more alike than the life of any one of them is like that of any single man who lived a thousand years ago. These resemblances are the result of a common technology, and this technology is what many generations of engineers have built up, with the greatest skill and diligence of which human beings are capable, and handed down to us.
Many readers already know of the doings of the engineers and inventors of recent times. They have heard of James Watt and his steam engine, of John Augustus Roebling and his Brooklyn Bridge, or of George W. Goethals and the Panama Canal. But few know about the remote predecessors of these modern engineers—about the men who laid the foundations on which their modern colleagues have built. Therefore, this book will be devoted to all these neglected early engineers who, much more than the soldiers, politicians, prophets, and priests, have built civilization.
TWO
THE EGYPTIAN
ENGINEERS
Serious archeological work began in Egypt and Mesopotamia only about a hundred years ago, but since then much has been learned about the early civilizations of these lands. Although no definite date can be given to the beginning of either civilization, most scholars now believe that the civilization of the Euphrates Valley is several centuries older than that of the Nile.
The monuments of early Egypt, however, are far better preserved and much more impressive than those of its sister civilization of Iraq. The Egyptians had abundant supplies of good limestone and granite in the bluffs that paralleled their river for hundreds of miles. And, as most of the country gets hardly any rain, some of the monuments that the Egyptians built of these stones have lasted with but little weathering for thousands of years.
On the other hand, the Euphratean plain has no stone, and its date palms do not furnish good timber. Any timber the Mesopotamians used had to be brought down the Tigris from the Assyrian hills. Moreover, kiln-dried or burnt brick, which stands up to wet weather, was costly because of the scarcity of fuel for the kilns. Therefore it was used only to face the most important buildings. The interiors of the walls of these buildings, and the whole of ordinary dwellings, were made of sun-dried or mud brick.
Now, although mud brick can be made fairly strong by drying it in the sun for two to five years before use, it still softens and crumbles when wet. When a crack developed in the burnt-brick facing of a Meso-potamian temple or palace and was not at once repaired, the sharp winter rains dissolved the mud brick within, and the building crumbled into ruin. Hence the upper parts of the walls of public buildings in ancient Mesopotamia have almost entirely disappeared. All we know of these buildings is what we can discover by digging around the foundations, which have been protected from complete dissolution by the piled-up debris of the upper stories.
Therefore, to Egypt we must go to find great engineering works of earliest historic times still in recognizable condition and, as it happens, to learn about the most ancient engineer whom we know by name. This is the man who invented the pyramids, the most famous monuments of the ancient world. Of all the Seven Wonders of the World, only the pyramids survive to this day.
What were the Seven Wonders? Several Greek writers, beginning with Antipatros of Sidon (about —100) drew up lists of the seven most wonderful engineering feats they knew about. The usual list of Wonders comprised: 1. The Pyramids of Egypt. 2. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon. 3. The statue of Zeus by Pheidias at Olympia. 4. The temple of Artemis at Epheso^. 5. The tomb of King Mausolos of Karia at Halikarnassos. 6. The Colossus of Rhodes. 7. The Pharos or lighthouse of Alexandria.
Subsequent writers drew up their own lists of Wonders, sometimes substituting other structures, such as the walls of Babylon or the Temple of Jupiter in Rome, for some of those on the original list. Of course, classical writers could only list things they had heard of. They did not know about the Great Wall of China, or the huge dam at Ma'rib in Arabia, or the enormous Buddhist stupas of Ceylon. If they had, their lists might have been different.
The first recorded engineering work of early Egypt was the wall of the city of Memphis. This capital of the Old Kingdom stood at the point of the Delta, on the western bank of the Nile twelve miles above modern Cairo. Here the Nile, winding like a vast blue serpent athwart the North African desert belt, fissions into a dozen branches, which writhe across the flat, fertile, fan-shaped Delta to the sea.
A visitor of classical times—let's say the Greek historian Herodotos (—V)—in crossing the Nile beheld a lofty wall of pearly limestone. Over this wall appeared the upper parts of a forest of huge stone statues, 30 to 75 feet tall. These colossi were the eidolons of the conquering kings of the New Empire, the Rameseses and Senuserts.
In the midst of the city rose the citadel, the White Castle. This was an artificial hill surrounded by 40-foot limestone walls and bearing palaces and barracks on its top. Beyond the city, for many miles along the western bank of the Nile, clumps of pyramids pierced the skyline with blunt triangular teeth of buff-colored limestone. In these gigantic tombs lay the Pharaohs of the Old Kingdom, already a fading memory in the minds of the teeming, swarthy folk of the land of Khem.
This was a city of many names. In Herodotos' time it was called Men-nofer, the Memphis of the Greeks. It was also known as the City of the White Castle and the Abode of the Soul of Ptah. Memphis was as ancient to Herodotos as Herodotos is to us. The business of catering to tourists who had come from afar to view its antique wonders was already well in hand.
Now let us go yet farther back in time, to the very beginning of the Old Kingdom, as far as we can dimly discern the events of that distant day through the mist of centuries. About —3000 Mena, king of the South, conquered all of Egypt. At the boundary between the former separate kingdoms of Upper and Lower Egypt he built his new capital, Memphis, and surrounded it with a great white wall. This wall was probably made at first of brick with a coating of gypsum plaster. In later times a wall of stone took its place.
Three centuries after Mena, in the reign of King Joser,1 lived the first engineer and architect known to us by name. This was Imhotep, who built the first pyramid for his sovran. Imhotep is mentioned, though not by name, in a history of Egypt written in Greek thousands of years later by an Egyptian priest, Manetho. In his book Manetho wrote: "Tosorthos, [that is to say Joser, who reigned] for twenty-nine years; who, because of his medical skill has the reputation of Asklepios among the Egyptians, and who was the inventor of the art of building in hewn stone. He also devoted his attention to writing."2
