Math History Log

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History of mathematics

Log of a course

David Pierce

June , 


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David Pierce
C
CC BY: $

\
Mathematics Department
Middle East Technical University
Ankara  Turkey
http://metu.edu.tr/~dpierce/
[email protected]
Contents

Prolegomena 
What is here . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
Apology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
Possibilities for the future . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

I. Fall semester 
. Euclid 
.. Sunday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Saturday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Saturday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Wednesday, October  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, November  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, November  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Wednesday, November  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, November  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, November  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Saturday, November  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, December  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, December  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

. Apollonius and Archimedes 


.. Tuesday, December  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Saturday, December  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Friday, January  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 


.. Friday, January  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

II. Spring semester 


About the course . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

. Al-Khwārizmı̄, Thābit ibn Qurra, Omar Khayyám 


.. Thursday, February  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, February  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, February  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

. Cardano 
.. Thursday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Excursus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, March , again . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Excursus, continued . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

. Viète and Descartes 


.. Tuesday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

. Newton 
.. Thursday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, April  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, May  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 Contents
.. Thursday, May  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, May  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, May  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tuesday, May  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Thursday, May  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

A. Examinations 
A.. Friday, November  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Make-up exam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Tuesday, January  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Tuesday, March  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Tuesday, May  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Saturday, June  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

B. Student comments 


B.. Fall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
B.. Spring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

C. Collingwood on history 

D. Departmental correspondence 


D.. Wednesday, April , at : . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
D.. Wednesday, April , at : . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
D.. Thursday, April , at : . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
D.. Friday, April , at : . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

E. Notes on Greek mathematics 


E.. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
E.. Why read the Ancients? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
E.. Synthesis and analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
E.. Theorems and problems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
E.. Conversational implicature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
E.. Lines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

F. The Greek Alphabet 

Bibliography 

Contents 
List of Figures

.. ‘Analytic’ proof of Euclid’s I. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

.. Euclid’s I. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 


.. Euclid’s I. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Euclid’s I. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Greek imperatives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Euclid’s I. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

.. Quadratic equations as in Euclid . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 


.. A quadratic equation as in al-Khwārizmı̄ . . . . . . . . . . 

.. Viète’s analysis of analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 


.. Ratios in triangles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Descartes’s geometric arithmetic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. The quadratrix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

.. Descartes’s construction of an hyperbola . . . . . . . . . . 


.. Unclear quadrature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Newton’s quadrature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Proportional areas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Uniform circular motion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Various orbits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
.. Tangent orbits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

A.. Are all triangles isosceles? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 


A.. Have angles no size? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. The swing of a pendulum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Two parabolas in a cone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Two intersecting parabolas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Parallels in a triangle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Parallelograms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A.. Parallels in a triangle again . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 


A.. Analysis of a square . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A..Circle and parabola . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A..Concentric circle and ellipse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A..Parabola and tangent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A..Intersecting parabola and hyperbola . . . . . . . . . . . . 
A..Diameters of ellipses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

E.. Descartes’s diagram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

F.. The Greek alphabet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

List of Figures 
Prolegomena

What is here
This book is a record of a course in the history of mathematics, held at
METU during the / academic year. Officially the course was
() Math , History of Mathematical Concepts I, in the fall semester;
() Math , History of Mathematical Concepts II, in the spring.
There were about twenty students in each semester; but only four stu-
dents took both semesters. The two semesters correspond to the two
numbered parts of this book. According to the catalogue, the course
content is thus:
[Math :] Mathematics in Egypt and Mesopotamia, Ionia and
Pythagoreans, paradoxes of Zeno and the heroic age. Mathematical
works of Plato, Aristotle, Euclid of Alexandria, Archimedes, Apollo-
nius and Diophantus. Mathematics in China and India. [Math :]
Mathematics of the Renaissance, Islamic contributions. Solution of
the cubic equation and consequences. Invention of logarithms. Time
of Fermat and Descartes. Development of the limit concept. Newton
and Leibniz. The age of Euler. Contributions of Gauss and Cauchy.
Non-Euclidean geometries. The arithmetization of analysis. The rise
of abstract algebra. Aspects of the twentieth century.

Most parts of this description correspond to chapter titles in the suggested


textbook by Boyer []. But I did not use a modern textbook. My way of
teaching the course was inspired by my experience at St John’s College,
with campuses in Annapolis, Maryland, and Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA.
As a student at St John’s, I learned mathematics by reading, presenting,
and discussing the works of Euclid, Apollonius, Descartes, Newton, and
others. In teaching Math –, I hoped my own students could learn
in the same way. So my course had no textbook other than the works
(in English translation) of the mathematicians that we studied. In class,
students presented the content of these works at the blackboard.
My notes in Part I below started out as emails to a discussion group,
the ‘J-list’, composed of St John’s alumni. The dates used as section


heads in this part are the original dates of composition of these emails;
but I have done some editing and added some diagrams (though not yet
as many as might be added for the convenience of the reader).

In the spring semester, the conversion of emails into LATEX (so that they
could be incorporated in a book such as this one) became too tedious;
also I wanted to use diagrams immediately; so I started composing my
notes directly in LATEX. In Part II of this book, section titles are simply
dates of classes.

A big difference between courses at St John’s College and courses at


METU is that the latter have written examinations. The exams that I
wrote for Math – are in Appendix A.

Whether the course was a success might be judged from student com-
ments, which I invited on the final exams; these are in Appendix B.

On the other hand, students are not necessarily the best judges of their
own progress. It is also the case that one of the best and most enthusiastic
students, Mehmet D., did not write me any comments; below I shall
mention some of what he told me face to face. Meanwhile, I judge the
course to have been successful, at least insofar as it taught students that
they could read some of the great works of mathematics. As can be seen
from their comments, some of the students wished I had just told them
what was in those books. If the course had been simply a mathematics
course, I could have done that. But the course was a history course,
and the whole point of history is to understand what people in the past
have thought. In saying this (and I shall say more about it below), I am
following the Oxford philosopher R.G. Collingwood (–), some of
whose remarks on history are in Appendix C.

My attempts to communicate to my department what I was doing with


the course are in Appendix D, along with the responses of the sole person
who did respond.

Appendix E consists of some notes on ancient Greek mathematics that


I put on the webpage of Math  at the beginning of the semester.

Appendix F gives the Greek alphabet (many Greek words are quoted
in the main text).

What is here 
Apology
If I were to teach Math – again (which I should like to do), then
I should certainly make some changes. But the practice of reading and
presenting original sources, especially older ones, ought to be maintained,
for reasons including the following.
Scientific history
Studying history does not mean learning to express opinions about what
people of the past thought; it is learning what they thought. In saying
this, I have in mind the distinction between opinion and knowledge ex-
pressed by the character of Socrates in Plato’s Republic [, II, p. ;
C]:
Have you not observed that opinions (δόξαι) divorced from knowledge
(επιστήμη) are ugly things?∗

A teacher can tell students what he believes Euclid thought, and the
students can learn to repeat these teachings; but the teachings are only
opinions for the students, if not for the teacher, unless the students test
the opinions against what Euclid actually wrote.
A teacher’s lectures on math history may be useful for students’ math-
ematics. In A Comprehensive Introduction to Differential Geometry [,
p. vi], Spivak writes,
Of course, I do not think that one should follow all the intricacies of
the historical process, with its inevitable duplications and false leads.
What is intended, rather, is a presentation of the subject along the
lines which its development might have followed; as Bernard Morin said
to me, there is no reason, in mathematics any more than in biology,
why ontogeny must recapitulate phylogeny. When modern terminology
finally is introduced, it should be as an outgrowth of this (mythical)
historical development.

Spivak here is getting ready to teach mathematics, not history. It is useful


for him and his readers to look at the history of the mathematics; but
then that history will be adapted to the needs of the mathematics. In this
case, as Spivak suggests, history becomes a myth, a kind of story. It may
be an enjoyable or useful story. The story may be based on historical
knowledge on the part of the storyteller-mathematician. But then the
∗ οὐκ ᾔσθησαι τὰς ἄνευ ἐπιστήμης δόξας, ὡς πᾶσαι αἰσχραί;

 Prolegomena
story is not designed to share all of that knowledge. For the listener or
reader then, the story—the myth—can only be a kind of opinion, in the
sense of Plato. It is no longer history.
In The Principles of History [, pp.  f.], Collingwood derides what
he calls ‘scissors-and-paste’ history:
There is a kind of history which depends altogether upon the testimony
of authorities. . . it is not really history at all, but we have no other
name for it. . . History constructed by excerpting and combining the
testimonies of different authorities I call scissors-and-paste history.
By contrast, the scientific historian will pay attention to the latest re-
search [, p.]:
. . . whereas the books mentioned in a bibliography for use of a scissors-
and-paste historian will be, roughly speaking, valuable in direct pro-
portion to their antiquity, those mentioned in a bibliography for the
use of a scientific historian will be, roughly speaking, valuable in direct
proportion to their newness.

What this means for math history, I think, is that we must not treat
Euclid’s Elements, say, as the word of God or even the unaltered word
of Euclid. We may well pay attention to Russo’s argument in ‘The First
Few Definitions in the Elements’ [, ., pp. –] that the obscure
definition of straight line now found in the Elements is the work, not
of Euclid, but of a careless copyist. Still, there is little point in reading
Russo without reading the text associated with Euclid’s name.
Experience
Most of our students will not be professional mathematicians. The ex-
perience of making sense of a difficult text, getting up in front of an
audience, and talking about their understanding, will be more useful to
our students than any particular piece of mathematical knowledge. In-
deed, I think this is so, even for the students who will be mathematicians.
At any rate, as I said, my own undergraduate education consisted entirely
of this kind of learning. Any ability I have now as a teacher was nurtured
by this experience.
Tradition
Many people derive satisfaction from their membership in a group. The
group might be a political party, a nation, humanity, or the supporters
of a football team. If one is studying mathematics, I suppose the best

Apology 
group to feel oneself a member of is the group of mathematicians, if not
just the group of thinkers. By actually reading Euclid and his successors,
we come to know that we are part of a tradition that dates back thou-
sands of years. This point is reinforced when we consider that much of
the mathematics that our undergraduates learn was created by mathe-
maticians who had read Euclid. Most of the course Elementary Number
Theory I (Math ) at METU, for example, can be found in Gauss’s
Disquisitiones Arithmeticae (), of which Wikipedia∗ says:
The logical structure of the Disquisitiones (theorem statement followed
by proof, followed by corollaries) set a standard for later texts.

This claim is not sourced, but it seems short-sighted: the statement–


proof, statement–proof style of mathematical writing is found in Euclid,
whom Gauss implicitly credits in his preface [, p. xvii]:
Included under the heading “Higher Arithmetic” are those topics which
Euclid treated in Book VIIff. with the elegance and rigor customary
among the ancients. . . †

We may not expect our students to write as well as Gauss, even if he


was only their age when he was writing; but they would do well to have
Euclid as a model (and Gauss).‡
Changes
Although mathematics has an age-old tradition, the subject has changed
since Euclid; but this can be difficult to see. Obviously we have more
theorems now; less obviously, the spirit of mathematics has changed.
In The Foundations of Geometry [], David Hilbert appears to think
that, in axiomatizing geometry, he is only refining the work of Euclid.
If so, Hilbert is wrong. We think today that Euclid’s five postulates
are not in fact sufficient to justify all of his propositions; rather, there
are hidden assumptions, overlooked by Euclid, which Hilbert uncovers.
Even in Proposition  of Book I of Euclid’s Elements, there is an implicit
assumption that two circumferences, each containing the center of the
∗ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disquisitiones_Arithmeticae, accessed June

, .
† The continuation of the sentence is, ‘but they are limited to the rudiments of the

science.’ There has indeed been progress since Euclid.


‡ In my experience, the best mathematical writers among students at METU grew

up in the former Soviet Union. I don’t know if something in the Soviet tradition
should be credited. On page  I quote a Soviet textbook that I used in high school.

 Prolegomena
other, must intersect; this assumption is justified by no postulate. But
we have no reason to think that Euclid is trying to uncover all of his
‘hidden assumptions’. He is just writing down what is true.
One may say further the intersection of the circles in Euclid’s I. is
not a hidden assumption; the intersection is evident from the diagram.
Today we think nonetheless that the existence the point of intersection
should still be noted separately in words or symbols. Evidently Euclid
did not think the same way. (See pp.  and  below.)
Euclid also has no notion of ‘non-Euclidean’ geometry, so he has no
need to distinguish his geometry logically from any other. His postulates,
along with his demonstrations, serve as a sort of explanation of why his
propositions are true; but there is no reason to expect the postulates and
the demonstrations to provide a complete explanation,—if the notion of
completeness even makes sense in this context. Now, although he does not
seem to say so clearly, it may well be that Hilbert’s goal was a complete set
of axioms for geometry; but what could this have meant? Since Hilbert’s
Foundations, several different notions of logical completeness have been
defined. Hilbert in fact succeeded in writing down a categorical set of
axioms, in that any two geometries in which the axioms are true must be
isomorphic to one another. But we can hardly say that Euclid aimed to
do the same, if for him there was only one geometry.
At the beginning of ‘On teaching mathematics’ [], V.I. Arnold says:∗

Mathematics is a part of physics. Physics is an experimental science,


a part of natural science. Mathematics is the part of physics where
experiments are cheap.
The Jacobi identity (which forces the heights of a triangle to cross at
one point) is an experimental fact in the same way as that the Earth
is round (that is, homeomorphic to a ball). But it can be discovered
with less expense.
In the middle of the twentieth century it was attempted to di-
vide physics and mathematics. The consequences turned out to be
catastrophic. Whole generations of mathematicians grew up with-
out knowing half of their science and, of course, in total ignorance
of any other sciences. They first began teaching their ugly scholastic
pseudo-mathematics to their students, then to schoolchildren (forget-
∗ I took the text from http://pauli.uni-muenster.de/~munsteg/arnold.html

(July , ), but the original source [] is not given there; I found it later.

Apology 
ting Hardy’s warning that ugly mathematics has no permanent place
under the Sun).

I can’t say that Arnold is right about mathematics in general. He may be


right to say that Euclid’s mathematics is physics (as physics is understood
today). Again, Euclid explains why many geometric propositions are
true. If one finds the explanations inadequate, one may probe further;
this does not make Euclid wrong. Likewise, we have many explanations
of the motions of the heavens—explanations by Ptolemy, Copernicus,
Kepler, Newton, and Einstein. None of these explanations is wrong. Each
new explanation builds on the preceding, as Hilbert built on Euclid; on
the other hand, each physicist had a different project: each was looking
for a different kind of answer to the question, ‘Why do the heavens appear
as they do?’∗
In the preceding paragraphs, I have expressed opinions about Euclid,
Hilbert, and others. I might express these opinions to students; but the
students should question the opinion while consulting Euclid himself (and
Hilbert, and the others). It may well be that a modern mathematician
misunderstands his ancient predecessors, because his main business is to
be a mathematician and not an historian. If one just wants to learn
mathematics from the mathematician, that’s fine; if one also wants to
learn history, one should go to the source.
Proof
Many of Euclid’s propositions are propositions that I learned to prove
in high school, albeit from a modern textbook.† As I understood it,
the purpose of my high-school course was not so much to learn those
geometrical results themselves, but to learn the possibility of proving
those results. Unfortunately students at METU seem never to get such
a course, either in high school or at METU (see p. ). We do teach
proof; but at the same time we are teaching modern mathematics, and
this complicates things. I count Descartes as modern. Descartes gives
us a method of great power, which students begin learning in their first
∗ For example, Ptolemy wanted to know what configurations of circular motions

could account for the dance of the planets in the sky. From Kepler, Newton understood
that the planets moved in ellipses about the sun; Newton sought a different kind of
account of this, namely a law of force.
† I didn’t much like the textbook, which was []. I wanted to read Euclid, and

did so, first on my own, and then at St John’s.

 Prolegomena
semester at METU, in Analytic Geometry (Math ). However, it is
difficult to understand the method’s power of proof.∗
Using analytic methods, how would we prove that the base angles of
an isosceles triangle are equal? Given such a triangle, we can set up
a rectangular coordinate system in which the vertices A, B, and C of
the triangle are respectively (0, a), (−b, 0), and (c, 0), where a, b, and
c are all positive (Fig. .). Then AB = AC if and only if a2 + b2 =

A (0, a)
b

(−b, 0) b c (c, 0)
b b

B C

Figure .. ‘Analytic’ proof of Euclid’s I.

a2 + c2 , that is, b = c (since both are positive).


√ In this case, the angles
at B and C have the same cosine, namely b/ a2 + b2 , so the angles are
equal. Fine; but this argument uses notions not found till page  of
the analytic geometry text [] used at METU; even then, the text just
assumes familiarity with cosines, when full knowledge of these will not
come till a later course of mathematical analysis.
By contrast, for Euclid, the equality of the base angles of an isosceles
triangle is only Proposition  of Book I of the thirteen books that make
up the Elements. Notwithstanding the ‘hidden assumptions’ mentioned
above, I don’t know anything better than Euclid’s ‘synthetic’ geometry
for giving students a notion of what is a sound proof.

∗ See §A. for an exam that required application of Descartes’s analytic geometry,
as well as Newton’s conception of quadrature. Most students performed very poorly
on this exam; later I discuss what to do about this.

Apology 
Thrills
I just mentioned the power of Descartes’s analytic geometry. It is a thrill
to learn this geometry from Descartes himself. The thrill is worth sharing
with students; but it does not come cheap (comments on p.  notwith-
standing). One needs to have read Descartes’s predecessors, and to have
read them faithfully—not translated into modern, symbolic, Cartesian
language. But textbooks like Boyer [] present the old work in just this
anachronistic way.
Discoveries
It may happen that new mathematics comes out of taking old mathemat-
ics seriously. I can only offer my own example: a paper about the logic
of vector spaces [], directly inspired by reading Euclid and Descartes.∗
Coverage
The wonderful new Princeton Companion to Mathematics [] contains
short biographies of  mathematicians, in chronological order. The first
 mathematicians listed are:

() Pythagoras, () Girolamo Cardano,


() Euclid, () Rafael Bombelli,
() Archimedes, () François Viète,
() Apollonius, () Simon Stevin,
() Abu Ja’far Muhammad ibn () René Descartes,
Mūsā al-Khwārizmı̄, () Pierre Fermat,
() Leonardo of Pisa (known as () Blaise Pascal,
Fibonacci), () Isaac Newton.

∗ The main algebraic result is that if we have a vector space of dimension greater

than n, then we can enlarge the scalar field so that the dimension of the space is
reduced to n, while every set of n vectors that are linearly independent over the original
scalar field remain independent over the new field. Logically then, model-theoretically,
the theory of n-dimensional vector spaces over algebraically closed fields is, in the
appropriate signature, model-complete. Casting all humility aside, I quote from the
anonymous referee of the paper: ‘The paper is well-written and very interesting. The
structures are indeed basic, yet I found several results which surprised me, and the
technical proficieny with which things are handled makes publishing the presentation
worth-while. For example realizing the geometric idea of Descartes, while taking care
to make all formulae existential, is an example of the added value of the paper. To
me personally even the fact that the scalar field can be recovered from the parallelism
predicate was new.’

 Prolegomena
In my course, we read works of seven of the mathematicians on this list.
(There is no extant text by Pythagoras. In one class I lectured addition-
ally on Archimedes.) We also read two other mathematicians, namely
Thābit ibn Qurra and Omar Khayyám; but we could have dropped the
former, in line with the suggestion of Ali in §B.. It is indeed a shame not
to read any of the remaining  mathematicians on the Princeton Com-
panion’s list. But there just isn’t time to read many more. One could
read the work of many mathematicians in a source book like Smith’s []
or Struik’s [], but I think the coverage would be too superficial to be
of much value.
If it is desired, then Newton’s contemporaries (such as Leibniz) and
successors can be studied in the courses that cover their work. About
courses I have taught at METU, I can say that Gauss can be read in Math
, while Set Theory (Math ) and Introduction to Mathematical
Logic and Model Theory (Math ) can make use of van Heijenoort’s
anthology []. It just does not seem fair to me to use a course like Math
– to teach students about mathematicians whose work they do not
have time to know.
If one wants a royal road to a view of the grand sweep of mathematical
history, one can read Struik’s Concise History of Mathematics. However,
one might be uneasy with the author’s materialistic approach. Struik
writes for example:

The main line of mathematical advance passed through the growing


mercantile cities under the direct influence of trade, navigation, as-
tronomy, and surveying. The townspeople were interested in counting,
in arithmetic, in computation. Sombart labeled this interest of the
fifteenth- and sixteenth-century burgher his Rechenhaftigkeit.∗ Leaders
in the love for practical mathematics were the “reckon masters,” only
very occasionally joined by a university man, able, through his study of
astronomy, to understand the importance of improving computational
methods. [, Ch. V, §, p. ]
The rapid development of mathematics during the Renaissance was due
not only to the Rechenhaftigkeit of the commercial classes but also to
the productive use and further perfection of machines. [, Ch. VI, §,
p. ]
∗ [Struik’snote:] W. Sombart, Der Bourgeois (Munich and Leipzig, ), p. .
The term Rechenhaftigkeit indicates a willingness to compute, a belief in the usefulness
of arithmetical work.

Apology 
This explanation of the development of mathematics is perhaps correct;
but it is hardly complete. The development of mathematics is due, first of
all, to mathematicians (who may or may not be ‘university men’). They
may take their inspiration from various sources; but those sources do not
cause the mathematics to be created. This is a point worth making in a
course, and it is a point made by the practice of reading mathematicians.
Struik may not disagree. In the introduction of his history, he writes:

The selection of material was, of course, not based exclusively on ob-


jective factors, but was influenced by the author’s likes and dislikes, his
knowledge and his ignorance. As to his ignorance, it was not always
possible to consult all sources first-hand; too often, second- or even
third-hand sources had to be used. It is therefore good advice, not
only with respect to this book, but with respect to all such histories,
to check the statements as much as possible with the original sources.
This is a good principle for more than one reason. Our knowledge of
authors such as Euclid, Diophantus, Descartes, Laplace, Gauss, or Rie-
mann should not be obtained exclusively from quotations or histories
describing their works. There is the same invigorating power in the
original Euclid or Gauss as there is in the original Shakespeare, and
there are places in Archimedes, in Fermat, or in Jacobi which are as
beautiful as Horace or Emerson.

Possibilities for the future


I would make some changes in teaching Math – again. Here are
some notes about what might be done.
If students are going to make presentations, they must prepare for these
conscientiously, with the understanding that a poor presentation will dis-
appoint not only their teacher. Classmates must challenge students who
try to fake their way through a proof. Such challenges happened occa-
sionally in my class (see for example p. ); I wish I could encourage
students to make more of them, or (better) convince the speakers not to
try to fake their way. (See pp. , , and , and §. [p. ], for some
problematic days.)
Some formal measures might be of help. I did learn all of my stu-
dents’ names; but I found out too late that they didn’t always know one
another’s names. I sometimes tried arranging the desks in a semicircle
(see pp.  and ). I am told by Mehmet (whom I mentioned above)

 Prolegomena
that what I really must do is grade the students on their individual pre-
sentations. Mehmet is not a student who needs such a goad, but (if I
understand him) other students do need prodding by the threat of low
marks. In this case, I can only hope that what students first do for marks,
they may later do for their own satisfaction. As it was, I did tell students
that they got credit for attending class; I did not say that students would
be graded on the quality of their attendence and participation.
Also (suggests Mehmet), students should know many weeks in advance
what they will be presenting. This should be possible, now that I know
(from this very log) at what pace the course can proceed. Mehmet did
think the practice of reading original sources like Newton should be con-
tinued.∗
Classes proceeded more slowly than I expected, sometimes because stu-
dents had indeed not conscientiously prepared for them. If one wants to
cover more material, one can skip some propositions in class, while hold-
ing the students responsible for learning them independently. Students
might still work together, as Ece suggested; see §B.. Still, it should be
noted that, though at the beginning of Math  I assigned presenta-
tions to pairs or triples of students, the students generally didn’t work
together.
The teacher could compromise his principles and make some presen-
tations himself. Indeed, as I noted above, I did this with Archimedes. I
did it too with Book V of the Elements, on proportion (see p. ), and I
should have done it more; here, understanding the mathematics is hard
enough, even if one is not trying to learn the mathematics straight from
Euclid. The final exam of Math  showed that students had not gen-
erally learned Euclid’s definition of proportion (the one that must have
inspired Dedekind’s definition of the real numbers []).†
It was hard for the students not to have much sense of what would be
on exams. I didn’t have much sense myself, when I started the course.
Nonetheless, in the first semester, students generally impressed me by
their understanding on exams; but in the second semester, they disap-
pointed me. I was quite pleased with the problems I wrote on the last
∗ Mehmet took both semesters of Math – and is now [June ] going to

study for a doctorate in physics at Yale.


† Russo [, pp.  f.] ridicules historians like Heath, who are impressed that Eu-

clid could have ‘anticipated’ Dedekind’s theory of irrational numbers. Euclid didn’t
anticipate Dedekind; he taught Dedekind, who read him in school.

Possibilities for the future 


two exams of Math ; but in another year, some such problems should
be worked out with students in class.
In lectures in the second semester, I compromised and stated for the
students the results from Apollonius that we would need for Newton.
Proofs of some of these results did however end up as the exam problems
just mentioned. Again, it would be better to make proofs of all of these
results more clearly a part of the class, either in lectures or in homework.
Proofs can use the streamlining that Descartes makes possible, at least if
the point is to be able to read Newton’s Principia. (In Math , I told
the students out loud that problems like those on the second exam could
show up on the final; but the students seemed not to do anything with
this warning.)
Anthologies like Katz [] are useful for identifying the old works of
mathematics that may be worth reading. However, it may be misleading
to see a brief excerpt out of context. It would be desirable (where pos-
sible) to consider an anthology’s selections in the context of the larger
works from which they have been taken.∗
Unfortunately most students of Math  probably will not have taken
Math . Therefore it may be better to divide the contents of the
course not chronologically, but thematically, perhaps with geometry and
analysis in one semester, number theory and algebra in the other. The
former could start with Book I of Euclid’s Elements; the latter could
leave this book as background reading, but start seriously with Book II.
I had originally thought of finishing Math  with Lobachevsky, but
there was no time, and anyway most of the students had not read Eu-
clid, because they had not taken Math . In a rearrangement of the
course, Lobachevsky could be accommodated somehow. On the other
hand, Lobachevsky is number  on the (chronological) list in the Prince-
ton Companion; we would skip a lot of great names to get to him.

D. P.
Ankara
July , 
(Minor editing, June , )

∗I have therefore asked the METU library to order some of these larger works.

 Prolegomena
Part I.

Fall semester


. Euclid

.. Sunday, October 


This is about a course I am teaching now: a course in which students
read and present Euclid in more or less the St John’s style. We have had
three hours of class so far, and I am excited to think that the course may
work out as I have hoped.
My own memories of the first-year math tutorial at St John’s are dim.
Possibly Johnnies∗ are better prepared to read Euclid, precisely because
they haven’t spent two or three years studying modern mathematics as
my students now have—and because Johnnies have come to college ex-
pecting to read old books.
I am teaching at Middle East Technical University, in the capital of
Turkey. The course I am writing about now is a third-year course that
comes with the rather pretentious title ‘History of Mathematical Con-
cepts I’. I didn’t ask to teach it. But students wanted the course to be
offered, and a few weeks ago, one of the assistant chairs of our depart-
ment asked Ayşe (my colleague and spouse) if she would teach the course.
She didn’t want to, but said that I might. Eventually I was offered the
course.
I didn’t want to teach the course as my colleagues had done in the
past: from a textbook like Boyer’s History of Mathematics []. But I
realized that the course could be an opportunity to read original texts
with students. I decided to take it on.
Unfortunately our students are used to skipping class. I think they
may pick up this idea from high school. High school in Turkey does not
prepare students for the national university entrance exam; the students
take special lessons on evenings and weekends for this. There the students
learn all the tricks that their regular teachers don’t tell them. So what’s
the point of spending time with a regular teacher at all?
∗ As noted on p. , these remarks were originally addressed to St John’s College

alumni, who call themselves Johnnies.


In my other courses at METU, I have not required attendance. If
students want to study on their own, that has been fine; all that matters
is their performance on exams. But in a course where the whole point is
to read and discuss Euclid, this won’t do.
Students started registering for courses this semester on Wednesday,
September . On that day, my course was open to third-year students,
with a capacity of . In the afternoon,  students had registered. Then
I sent out an email to all math students, warning them of the unusual
nature of the course. I threatened them with failure if they did not come
to class. The authorities had not limited course capacity as severely as I
had wanted, so I tried to scare away uninterested students. On Thursday,
the course was open to fourth-year students, and the capacity was raised
to . This capacity was reached, but now only  of those students were
third-year. It seems I had driven off six students.
In the following week—last week—I met my class twice. On the first
day, Tuesday,  students showed up. On the second day, Friday, only 
showed up, though four of them had not come on Tuesday. So I have seen
a total of  students, out of  who had registered (plus three more who
couldn’t, but still wanted to come). This is probably typical. Students
don’t have to commit to courses till the coming week, ‘add-drop week’
(when I shall make sure that those three extra students can register, if
they still want to).
On Tuesday, the first day of class, at first I didn’t speak of definitions,
postulates, and common notions. I just proved Euclid’s Proposition I.
(to construct an equilateral triangle), and then I asked what we had
assumed in constructing the triangle. Thus we recognized a need for
Postulates  and . One student observed what is famously missing from
Euclid: we need to know that the two circles in the construction intersect.
(I don’t hold this to be a flaw in Euclid. As I think I have learned from
Mr Thomas on the J-list, the flaw is to think that Euclid is trying to
present an axiomatic system as we understand such things today.)
We went on to prove and discuss Propositions I. and .
Unfortunately here in Ankara one cannot order textbooks and expect
students to buy them. One reason is that our department does not tell
us what we are teaching until it is too late to order books. Another
reason is that books are expensive, and as long as the library has a copy,
students will have it photocopied. As for Euclid, the library seems to
have lost some volumes of the Dover edition of Heath, and the library

.. Sunday, October  


hasn’t bought the Green Lion edition yet. So I have pointed the students
to several web editions of Euclid. I could make my own copies of the
Green Lion or Dover edition available for photocopying, but I won’t.
Perhaps the recent Fitzpatrick translation of Euclid is the most useful,
if only because the author has put a pdf file on the web.∗ However,
I recall that Mr Thomas had some criticism of this edition, or at least
was dubious about the reliability of the Greek text that accompanies
the translation. My perusal suggests that Fitzgerald is more literal than
Heath, but his footnotes may be misguided.
On Tuesday, on the web† as well as in class, I hoped I had been clear
enough about what was expected from students. On Friday however, it
appeared that few students had got around to actually reading Euclid;
or perhaps they were shy about admitting it. One student agreed to
present Proposition  (what English-speakers may learn as SAS); but
then it transpired that she had read only my account of this proposition,
which I had also put on the web, perhaps by mistake.
For Proposition , nobody was initially forthcoming. I drew a triangle
ABC on the board, with AB = AC, and invited somebody to try to
prove the equality of angles ABC and ACB. This was a useful exercise,
for me at least. One student came up and drew a circle whose center was
A and whose circumference contained B and C. Tolgay tried to argue
that the base angles of the triangle subtended equal arcs of the circle, or
were inscribed in equal arcs, or something like that.
The state of Tolgay’s mathematics may be like what I imagine mathe-
matics to have been before Euclid. Tolgay understands that we can prove
some propositions from other propositions. But he has no clear notion of
a systematic development, from a few basic principles, of a whole body
of mathematics.
When I visited St John’s as a prospective student, my guide took me to
his dorm room, where he and his friends told me excitedly that whereas
in high school you were told that things were true, at St John’s you
proved them. So these were my people. In fact my own high-school
geometry course had been rigorous,—so much so that I understood the
whole point to be not isosceles triangles and parallelograms, but proof
itself. Still, during that course, I obtained a copy of Euclid, and I wished
∗ http://farside.ph.utexas.edu/euclid.html
† http://metu.edu.tr/~dpierce/Courses/303/

 . Euclid
we could read this instead of our regular textbook.
After geometry, I had a two-year course of calculus, where we proved
everything from the axioms for a complete ordered field (the so-called
real numbers). As I understood it, this was what mathematics was all
about.
Our students at METU are among the best in Turkey, and they have
learned to do some math problems that I haven’t a clue how to solve. But
apparently it’s hard to ask about proofs on a multiple-choice university
entrance exam. In any case, our students don’t seem to come to us with
much notion of proof. We have a first-year course that is supposed to instil
such a notion; but it is also supposed to teach about ‘linear orderings’
and ‘equivalence classes’ and various other modern abstract notions. I
have thought that students might be better served by a course of reading
Euclid.
The student Tolgay at the board, trying to prove I. with a circle,—
he can apparently think creatively, but if after two years of university
mathematics he can’t catch on to what Euclid is about, even just from
attending an hour or so of my class, then I think there may be something
wrong with our department’s program.
Maybe my criticism is premature. In any case, I suggested that Tolgay
was trying to use some propositions that were indeed correct, but that
we had not proved yet.
Another student [name forgotten] came forward and tried to prove I.
by drawing through A a straight line parallel to BC. I pointed out that
as yet we knew nothing about parallel lines.
Finally it appeared that somebody had read Euclid. Proposition  was
presented faithfully by Ali, who on Tuesday had transferred the pdf file
of Fitzgerald’s Euclid from my flash drive to his.
I gave Pappus’s proof of I., which is much easier to write down than
Euclid’s, but perhaps harder to believe. (Triangles ABC and ACB are
equal in all respects, by I..) Students seemed to like this proof, including
Ali. I asked whether Euclid might have known the proof.
Proposition  was also presented à la Euclid, this time by a young
woman who had dropped out of my set-theory class last semester because
her father was dying. I learned about the death after the course, when
Elif sent me an email thanking me for letting her pass anyway. I had
been quite lenient that semester, because of another student, who had
had to undergo treatment for leukemia. Elif wrote that she hoped to do

.. Sunday, October  


better in another course of mine; perhaps this semester she intends to
fulfill that pledge.
For Proposition , Cihan came forward to give the proof. He was one
of the three students who had asked me to enlarge the capacity of the
course so that he could join. Cihan seemed to have read the Euclid,
though he got confused. I pointed out that Euclid’s proof covered only
one case: another arrangement of the points was possible for which the
proof wouldn’t work. I left consideration of this case as an exercise.
I think I myself did Proposition .
For Proposition  (to bisect an angle), Cihan eventually came forward
again, though seemingly without any notion of Euclid’s construction. He
gave his own argument, assuming that a straight line could be bisected
(as in Proposition ). Ahmet came forward with a correct method of
bisecting a straight line, but he had trouble proving it until Ali came up
to help.
First Ali gave some advice from his seat, in Turkish. I let the Turkish
discussion go on for a bit, then pointed out (in Turkish) that not ev-
erybody knew Turkish. I didn’t mean only myself. There was a British
student in the class, here just for the semester. There’s also an Albanian
student, though he may have learned Turkish. There is a student from
Azerbaijan, but Azeri and Turkish are mutually comprehensible.
By this time it was late on Friday afternoon, and our two hours were up.
I had pointed out to the sleepy students that I hadn’t chosen the schedule.
I decided reluctantly to take volunteers for the next few propositions, to
be presented next Tuesday.

.. Thursday, October 


Tuesday’s class is from . to .. On Tuesday of this week, I went
to the classroom ten minutes early, to be able to get on with the business
of learning people’s names. Two students were there. Yunus asked how
many exams there would be, and I repeated what I had written on the
webpage: one midterm and one final. He asked what would be on the
exams, and I said I would ask for proofs, perhaps of propositions from
Euclid, perhaps of others. He asked what they (the students) could use
in the proofs, and I said they could use whatever Euclid used. He asked
whether that meant they could bring a list of Euclid’s propositions to the

 . Euclid
exam, and I said no. I said students should know the Greek alphabet.
Yunus asked where they could get the alphabet, and I repeated what I
had added to the webpage that day: They could get it from Wikipedia for
example, or they could download a page prepared by me. I had brought
a printout to class, so I gave it to Yunus.
It is tedious to read the last paragraph, but it was tedious to go through
this dialogue with Yunus in the first place. The system trains students
to ask such questions; and anyway I am going to have to assign letter
grades at the end of the semester.
By the time class was supposed to start, one other student had shown
up. She said many students were coming from another class, which was
then being held in a building far away, because of the ongoing renovations
in our department’s building. I asked about that other class, and then
I realized it was my own spouse’s class! Ayşe assured me later that she
had ended class on time. But you know, students don’t feel like rushing
from one class to another.
Soon more students came, and the presentations of propositions
started.
As I recall my own freshman math tutorial with Mr Kutler in An-
napolis, propositions were not preassigned to students. I don’t recall any
problem finding volunteers on the spot, although this may be because
people like me were prepared to volunteer if nobody else was. The year
before, when I visited a math tutorial as a prospective student, a volun-
teer was not forthcoming for Proposition N . The tutor then closed his
eyes and brought his pencil down on the list of students. The student so
picked asked nervously, ‘Could I do Proposition N +1 instead?’ I suppose
he knew he had to present something, and he couldn’t be prepared for
everything, so he prepared for that proposition.
I had hoped the class I am teaching now could be like the one I was a
student in, or at least like the one I was a prospective student in. But
as I suggested in my report on last Friday’s class, I gave up on that idea
pretty quickly. I took volunteers on Friday for the following Tuesday’s
propositions.
On Tuesday, therefore, the exchange-student Jeremy came forth with
I. all prepared. He started writing out the statement of the proposition,
in what seemed to be a direct quote. I worried that he was just going to
quote the proof as well, but he didn’t. I raised several questions, during
the proof and afterwards. ‘How do you know point E exists?’ ‘Why

.. Thursday, October  


doesn’t Euclid just draw a circle to find E, rather than appealing to
Proposition ?’
Things continued in this way. I raised questions, trying to suggest
the kind of critical approach that I hoped the students themselves would
take. But I suppose it’s hard for them to get critical about the seemingly
basic propositions we are going through.
Besmir proved I.. Then Yunus proved I., that a straight line set
up on another makes angles equal to two right angles. He did it more
tersely than Euclid, and I wondered why Euclid’s approach had an extra
complication. Yunus argued that, if the straight line AB is set up on CD
[so that B lies on CD], and EB is set up at right angles to CD, [and E
is on the same side of CD that A is on], then

CBA + ABD = CBE + EBD =  right angles.

(See Figure ..) But Euclid argues (in prose that one might rewrite as
A E

C B D

Figure .. Euclid’s I.

follows):

CBA + ABE = CBE,


CBA + ABE + EBD = CBE + EBD,
ABE + EBD = ABD,
CBA + ABE + EBD = CBA + ABD,
CBA + ABD = CBE + EBD =  right angles.

Why such length? I don’t know, unless, for Euclid, the sum of angles
CBA and ABD is not itself an angle, so it cannot be immediately iden-
tified with the sum of CBE and EBD.
Indeed, I have seen it said that one sign of Euclid’s greatness is his
not trying to treat angles as if they were the same sort of magnitudes as

 . Euclid
straight lines. Today one might say that the sum of right angles CBE
and EBD is a ‘straight angle’, whose measurement is  degrees. Then
‘obviously’ the sum of CBA and ABD is the same. But this is not
obvious for Euclid, and rightly so.
It is a failing that Heath does not comment on I., except for a remark
on translating one clause. I don’t know if this is Heath’s failing, or a
failing of other commentators whose work he reviews in his own notes.
Damla, Friday’s volunteer for I., did not show up for class on Tues-
day. Cihan stepped up to prove the proposition. In the proof by contra-
diction, he established

CBA + ABE =  right angles,


CBA + ABD =  right angles;

then he concluded

CBA + ABE = CBA + ABD.

I asked how this was justified, and he mentioned Common Notion :


Things equal to the same are equal to each other. I pointed out that
we don’t know that these two right angles are equal to those two right
angles. Somebody pointed out that we had Postulate .
It has been two days since the course, and I don’t remember who
brought up Postulate . Seçil presented I. (‘vertical angles are equal’),
and then I took volunteers for Friday’s class. I spent half an hour after
class talking with one student and then another, about the Heath trans-
lation versus the Fitzgerald, and about how ancient mathematics may
differ from our own.

.. Friday, October 


My course is an ‘elective’, and students who don’t like it can take an-
other. (For several electives, such as Ayşe’s on graph theory, enrollment
is maxed out. But a third-year elective on Lebesgue integration has only
 students registered; a couple of fourth-year electives have less than 
students; another course will be closed for lack of interest.)
On this last day of ‘add-drop’ week, I am down to  registered stu-
dents. Of those , there are  whom I have never seen in class. Another

.. Friday, October  


came to the first class only. Of the remaining , all but two have come
to every class; the other two came only to the most recent class, but seem
to be serious about the course: they are among the volunteers to present
propositions today.
In short, I seem now to have  interested students. After today’s class,
each of these  will have been up to the board at least once to present
a proposition. Those other students who didn’t want to do this will have
dropped out.
In my very first seminar at St John’s, I was a bit surprised when a
tutor launched into an opening question without any preliminary remarks
about how things would be done. But that was fine of course, and I guess
I’m following that model today.
I plan to cover all of Book I, and then pick and choose (in St John’s
fashion, as I recall it). We should cover the theory of proportion. The
students all know the ‘Euclidean algorithm’ for finding greatest common
divisors; it would be good for them to see this in its original presentation.∗
After that, I don’t know. We should do something of Archimedes and
Apollonius. (I note that Euclid, Archimedes, and Apollonius seem to be
the main sources of examples in Reviel Netz, The Shaping of Deduction
in Greek Mathematics [], the book that Mr Thomas recommended.)
At the Nesin Mathematics Village in the summer of , I presented
much of Book I of Apollonius in  hours of lectures. This would translate
into four weeks of my present class; but it would be too fast (as it was in
), and not in the right spirit. Really students should be presenting
propositions, even if this seems to slow things down.
Next semester, I am likely to be assigned ‘History of Mathematical
Concepts II’, which is supposed to start with the Renaissance. Ayşe
suggested I could spend all of the present semester on Euclid, and all of
next on Apollonius, regardless of what the course catalogue says; but I
don’t think I’ll do this.

.. Saturday, October 


On Friday, October , Euclid class began with Ahmet’s presentation of
I.: in a triangle, an exterior angle is greater than either of the opposite
interior angles. Not all students were present at the beginning of class.
∗ We eventually skipped this in class, however.

 . Euclid
I had come to class with various things to say, but I could say them any
time. I let Ahmet be the first speaker, so he could have the experience
of seeing latecomers walk in while he talked (and so that they would see
that they were interrupting one of their classmates).
Ahmet and I are old friends: he took model theory with me last fall
and set theory last spring, and he used to ask challenging questions after
class. He is a double major in math and philosophy. He and another
undergraduate named Burak inspired me to offer a reading course this
semester, in addition to the two courses I am normally assigned. (We
intend to read together the late Paul Cohen’s book []—based on his
lectures at Harvard—on his proof of the independence of the Continuum
Hypothesis.)
Ahmet expressed the equality of two lines by writing

|AE| = |CE|.

Other students had used this notation before. I asked what the verti-
cal bars meant, and of course Ahmet said that they denoted taking the
lengths of the lines. If I understood his point, he said that we couldn’t
do the math unless we had the abstract notion of length. I observed that,
as far as I knew, Euclid didn’t refer to length as such; he just used ordi-
nary language, saying AE was equal to CE. Nobody, including myself,
recalled that, in Definition , a line is ‘breadthless length’. Now, there
is an argument (by Lucio Russo, in The Forgotten Revolution []) that
Euclid didn’t write this or any other definition of line, but in any case,
Definition  says, not that a line has a length, but that a line is a length.
In the book recommended by Mr Thomas called The Shaping of De-
duction in Greek Mathematics [], Reviel Netz observes that the words
of Euclid and other ancient mathematicians do not completely determine
the diagrams. I assume now that the interested reader can look at the
diagram in Heath’s translation (now reproduced as Figure .). After
Ahmet had proved angle ACD greater than angle BAC, he observed
that, by the same construction, BCG is greater than ABC, while BCG
is equal to ACD by I.. I said it wasn’t necessary to repeat the construc-
tion, but nobody seemed to get the point until I spelled it out: since we
have proved ACD > BAC, we have proved the general statement of the
proposition, another instance of which is the inequality BCG > ABC.
No further proof is necessary.

.. Saturday, October  


A F

D
B C

Figure .. Euclid’s I.

When Ahmet was finished, before I could make any of the general
remarks I had prepared, Mehmet stood up to continue with I.: any
two angles of a triangle are together less than two right angles. I let him
proceed. (Mehmet, Ahmet, and Burak were by far the best students in
set theory last semester. Mehmet is majoring in physics as well as math.)
It may have been during Mehmet’s presentation that a student whom I
hadn’t seen before, Rashad, mentioned  degrees. Perhaps he thought
I. was obvious, since all three angles of a triangle add up to  degrees.
There was some laughter when I pointed out that we didn’t know any-
thing about degrees; perhaps the other students had got used to hearing
me say such things.
After Mehmet, I introduced the parts of a proposition that are spelled
out by Proclus in his commentary [] on Book I of the Elements. The
relevant section of Proclus is quoted in the introduction to the Green
Lion edition of Heath’s Euclid (though unfortunately without a page
number—it’s  in the cited translation). So recent Johnnies should
know the parts of a proposition. Netz gives them in his book as well,
where they are called
() Enunciation (πρότασις: what is to be proved in general terms);
() Setting out (ἔκθεσις: the ‘givens’ as labelled in the diagram);
() Definition of goal (διορισμός: the ‘to prove’);
() Construction (κατασκευή: additional straight lines and so forth that
are needed in the proof);

 . Euclid
() Proof (ἀπόδειξις);
() Conclusion (συμπέρασμα: a repetition of the enunciation, and what
Heath replaced with ‘Therefore etc.’).
In writing () on the board, I asked Ahmet whether he had encountered
the word ‘apodictic’ in a philosophy course; he seemed to find the word
vaguely familiar.
In listing the six parts, I just wanted to be clear that the things we
call ‘propositions’ have a definite form, a form which, for the sake of the
reader, the writer might choose to follow.
By the way, Netz in effect points out that our use of the word ‘propo-
sition’ is an instance of metonymy. Properly the proposition is only
the enunciation: part () above. Netz argues that, for the Greeks, the
‘metonym’ for the whole six-part package was not the enunciation, but
the diagram. Now, the diagram is not one of those six parts. One might
think that the diagram is like the sight or look of a person, while the six
written parts are the voice of the person. In any case, Netz’s argument
is tenuous, or else I am reading too much into it.∗ He observes that,
even when the same diagram could be used for two propositions, it al-
most never is. In ‘translating’ the Conics, Heath [] mutilates Apollonius
precisely by making one diagram fit many propositions.
In class, later presentations of propositions seemed to be influenced
a bit by Proclus’s list of parts. But I saw then that I had a task for
the future: to convince students not to write down the ‘definition of
goal’ without being clear that it hasn’t actually been proved yet. The
students tend to write formulas without writing any words to explain
their interrelations. Proofs should be persuasive prose compositions; but
the students get little or no practice in writing in school. (Remember,
the university entrance exam is all multiple choice.)
In particular, in her proof of I. (in a triangle, the greater side sub-
tends the greater angle), Özge used some of the terminology from Proclus.
Next up was Mürsel, who had sat in only on the previous class before
deciding to register for the course. His argument was quite detailed in
a good way. But he kept looking at me, sitting at the side of the room,
until I reminded him that I wasn’t the only student in the class. He had
a soft voice, and I think it was he whom I asked, ‘Do you think your
∗ Editing these remarks later, I don’t remember why I thought Netz’s argument

tenuous.

.. Saturday, October  


classmates can hear you?’ Those classmates said ‘No!’
Break time was coming up. I stepped up to show that, as I gather from
Netz, Euclid tends to be mistranslated in English. The ‘setting out’ of
I. is not ‘Let AB be the given straight line’ but rather ‘Let the given
straight line be AB’:
῎Εστω ἡ δοθεῖσα πεπερασμένη ἡ ΑΒ.

Netz argues that Euclid is not creating a straight line whose endpoints
are defined to be A and B; rather, there is already a straight line; it is
‘given’; it is there on the diagram (Figure .) and its endpoints are those
C

D A B E

Figure .. Euclid’s I.

that you see near the letters A and B.


What this means to me is that the recent translator Fitzpatrick is
wrong to say in a footnote to I., ‘The assumption that the circles do in-
deed cut one another [at C] should be counted as an additional postulate.’
That the circles do cut one another is too obvious to need postulating:
you can see right there in the diagram that the circles cross. In our mod-
ern ideal, a proof proceeds by mechanical application of formal rules to
strings of written symbols. A proof is a list of such strings, with nothing
to do with any diagram. But Euclid was not trying to write such proofs.
So Fitzpatrick, like Heath, seems to have overlooked one feature of the
Greek. But perhaps he did well to translate Greek perfects as English
perfects: ‘Let the circle BCD. . . have been drawn.’ The diagram is not
being constructed as the reader reads; the diagram is already there, it
already has been constructed. (And since the reader is probably reading
a scroll, the reader never needs to flip a page. Again I owe these obser-
vations to Netz. But in the Green Lion edition [] of Heath’s Euclid,
diagrams are repeated on every spread where they are needed. Is anybody

 . Euclid
here young enough to have benefitted from this feature? The luxury of a
scroll, the convenience of a codex! How’s that for an advertising slogan?)
During the break, I noticed a sticker on the new classroom windows
that said ısı yalıtımlı çift cam. This meant ‘heat double glass’, and
one can guess the meaning that fills in the blank, but I didn’t recognize
yalıtımlı. I guessed that it came from a verb yalıtmak, which might in
turn be the causative form of a verb ∗ yalmak. Melis and Ali told me
I was right on the former point, wrong on the latter. Yalıtmak, said
Ali, meant ‘insulate’ or ‘isolate’. Knowing that even my spouse confuses
these two English words, I wrote them on the board. Jeremy from the UK
explained the distinction. I observed that insula was island in Latin. I
recalled that, in ancient times, way out on the tip of what is now Turkey’s
Datça Peninsula, there was a city called Knidos. We once talked on the
J-list about the Aphrodite of Knidos. The Knidians tried to ‘isolate’
or ‘insulate’ themselves by cutting a canal across their isthmus, making
their home an island; but they failed. (The story is in Herodotus. In
class I observed that insula appeared in ‘peninsula’, but forgot that the
Turkish word, yarımada, was also literally ‘half-island’.)
We were still in the break, and not all students had returned to the
classroom, but I couldn’t wait to talk about Greek imperatives, partic-
ularly in the third person. As I had reviewed in Smyth’s Greek Gram-
mar [] in the morning, there are three kinds of Greek imperatives:
present, aorist, and perfect. Moreover, the personal endings have dif-
ferent forms in active and passive voice. Turkish has just one kind of
imperative, and distinctions of voice are handled in a different part of
the verb. (I didn’t get into the middle voice, but Turkish as well as
Greek might be said to have one.) Actually, classical Greek apparently
forms its active perfect imperative periphrastically, as a participle + ‘let
it be’ (ἐστω). Turkish uses a similar construction for a perfect imperative
(as in Geçmiş olsun ‘may [your trouble] have passed’). As in Greek, the
Turkish for ‘let it be’ is one word (olsun).
By this time class was officially going, and I emphasized my main
point: not that students should know all of the Greek imperatives, but
that Euclid used one of them in particular, the perfect, to talk about
things that had already been constructed. Nonetheless, Elif asked me
to clarify the distinction between the present and aorist imperatives. I
hadn’t actually used those terms, but had just written down a sort of

.. Saturday, October  


paradigm (Figure .)∗ based on γράφω. As for the distinction, I just

active middle passive


present γραφέτω γραφέσθω
aorist γραψάτω γραψάσθω γραφήτω
perfect γεγραφὼς ἔστω γέγραφθω

Figure .. Greek imperatives

repeated briefly what I had gathered from Smyth:


() γραφέσθω let [it] be drawn [generally]
() γραψάσθω let [it] be drawn [now]
() γέγραφθω let [it] have been drawn, çizilmiş olsun
Still, Taner asked what the point of learning Greek was, since math
was hard enough in one’s own language, and harder still in English. I
said I just wanted him to know the alphabet and to recognize the Greek
words, like γραφω, that are the source of our mathematical vocabulary. I
passed along the rumor that I had heard on the J-list from Mr Billington,
who had heard it from a British woman [Deborah Hughes Hallett] who
once taught in my department here in Ankara (though well before my
time): math students do better if they have learned the Greek alphabet.
I pointed out in Turkish that, unfortunately, I didn’t know much Turkish,
but anyway, English was spoken at METU. In English I said it would be
good if somebody would translate Euclid into Turkish; but the translator
should work from the original Greek, not the English.†
Taner was supposed to present I. (two sides of a triangle are together
greater than the third), so perhaps he was nervous. He had come to my
office earlier in the day, not having consulted the course webpage or
actually looked at Euclid yet. He asked what the point of the course was,
and I told him as best I could.
In class, his presentation showed understanding, but was rushed, and
people besides me raised questions. Ali asked Taner to write down what
∗ My Greek is so rusty that I am not entirely confident of these forms, though

Smyth does give the perfect middle/passive of γράφω as a paradigm in his ¶ .
† Ahmet Arslan, translator of Aristotles’s Metaphysics into Turkish [], confesses

in his preface that he does not know Greek: he used French and English translations
for his own work.

 . Euclid
D

B C
Figure .. Euclid’s I.

he was proving. (See Figure ..) In his haste he got it wrong, instead of

BA + AC > BC

writing something like


BA > BC.
For a while I thought maybe he meant that we could assume what he
had written down, and this would have been correct, as far as it went.
We got things straightened out in the end. As Taner returned to his seat,
he apologized to me for his poor English; actually his English was good.
At some point in the class, I went back to talk about I. (Figure .).
Some commentators say it must use a hidden assumption, since it doesn’t
use the parallel postulate, and yet it fails on the surface of a sphere. I
observed that the proposition fails if the point F ends up below BD (that
is, on the other side from A). Ali said that couldn’t happen, because then
BF would not be straight—that is, it would not ‘lie evenly with the points
of itself’. I suggested that, by the ‘obvious’ continuity principle, BF and
BD would have two points in common, in violation of a principle that
we read into the first postulate.
Çağdaş finished the presentations with I.. Then I observed that
somebody—it was the Epicureans, according to Proclus, but I had for-
gotten this—somebody had ridiculed Euclid for proving propositions like
I. and especially I. (which it depends on), when they are obvious
even to an ass, a donkey. This got some laughs, perhaps more so because
I had given the Turkish word for donkey, eşek ; the English might not
have been in their vocabulary.
Of those registered students whom I had never seen, three—Rashad,
Tuğba, and Nur—were in class finally. They claimed they knew what

.. Saturday, October  


they were getting in for by registering for the course. Everybody else had
presented propositions; so the newcomers became first in line for next
Tuesday. After they agreed to this, other students were eager to sign up
for propositions, so I wrote down their names too.
I ended the class by raising the question of whether we could now
improve the proof of I., the SSS rule for congruence of triangles. Euclid’s
proof involves ‘applying’ one triangle to another; I asked whether we could
avoid this. (I had apparently taken up this issue in an essay I wrote at
St John’s. I dug up the essay this August when I visited my mother and
went through those old things of mine that remained in her house.)

.. Tuesday, October 


Today, in fifty minutes, we covered four propositions. Tuğba was first up,
for I. (construct a triangle, given the sides). Or that’s what I thought;
she seemed to have prepared I. instead. Well, last class was the first
one she actually attended; but Taner proved I. then. I asked Tuğba if
she could prove I. anyway, but she preferred to present a proposition
next time.
I thought Rashad volunteered to prove I.. He came to the board and
started writing down—Proposition I.. This is the one he had signed
up for. I said we couldn’t do  before . He wasn’t prepared to prove
 (even though  uses it); so he sat back down.
Cihan volunteered to prove I., and did it. If the three given sides are
A, B, and C, then as Euclid points out, we must have

A + B > C, A + C > B, B + C > A.

But how do these requirements come into the picture? I discussed this
with Cihan, and we drew three pictures, with two non-intersecting circles
each, showing what goes wrong when any of the three inequalities above
is violated.
But Özge at least was brave enough to say, in effect, that she didn’t get
it. She came up to the board, and we discussed the matter some more,
until she was satisfied.
Rashad then proved I.: to construct a given angle on a given straight
line and given point on it. One does this by constructing a triangle with
the desired angle. I observed that I. hadn’t spoken about where one

 . Euclid
could construct the triangle. I invited Rashad to show how to construct
the desired triangle in the place where it was desired. He did this, easily.
Proposition I. was Nur’s: If two triangles have two sides equal to two
sides respectively, but the one included angle is greater than the other,
then the side opposite the one is greater than the side opposite the other.
In Heath’s diagram, Nur chose the point G merely to satisfy DG = AC.
When I asked if there were any other condition, she said No. Eventually
she just saw, or remembered, or saw in the notebook that she had set
aside, that angles EDG and BAC should be equal.
Nur completed the proof as Euclid gives it. Then I asked: What if the
point F happens to fall inside triangle DEG? I suppose I’m glad I hadn’t
consulted Heath’s commentary on this proposition; Heath does discuss
this other case, and he gives a simple proof—which I had overlooked.
Nur and others claimed that, in the picture I had drawn, with F inside
DEG (but DF = DG), it is obvious that EF is shorter than EG. Could
they prove it? Well, they didn’t think it needed proof. I claimed it did.
Somebody could have cited I., whereby EF + F D < EG + GD,
which yields the claim. But nobody did. I suggested extending DG and
DF , so that the exterior angles at the base of isosceles triangle DF G
are equal. Then the second part of I. could be used, in the same way
that the first part is used for the case that Euclid does give. (I’m glad I
hadn’t consulted Heath, because I might not have noticed this argument
if I had.)
Checking Heath now at I., I learn that Proclus similarly proved the
omitted case of that proposition. (I have the Proclus, but have not been
reading him systematically; maybe I should.)
By this time, the class was almost over. I don’t know if the students
were happy that we covered so few propositions. In the remaining min-
utes, Cihan proved I., which has a purely logical proof, I would say.
There was no time to observe that I. (equal angles are subtended by
equal sides) could have postponed till after I. (the greater side sub-
tends the greater angle); then this with I. (equal sides subtend equal
angles) would have allowed a purely logical proof of I..
As I say, there was no time to discuss the alternative proof of I..
Maybe next time, or not. I don’t mind going slowly, if there are things
to say; but I do want to get to mathematics that is more difficult in a
conventional sense—such as the theory of proportion.

.. Tuesday, October  


Perhaps next time I’ll mention the Steiner–Lehmus Theorem∗ without
naming it—so the students can’t just look up the proof, although that’s
what I did. Sam Kutler told us about this theorem when I was in his math
tutorial, but we didn’t discuss the proof. Conway’s argument—which I
read today—that there can be no direct proof is intriguing.

.. Friday, October 


Today, Propositions I.– were presented by Tolgay, Besmir, Jeremy,
Seçil, Elif, Özge, Taner, and Yunus, respectively.
I had an evil thought today: that some students might be making long
presentations in order to make sure we don’t cover much material. It’s
probably false, but Ayşe has learned from students that they have tricks
for slowing down her classes by getting her to talk about irrelevant things.
Tolgay proved I.: the triangle-congruence theorem that we might
call ASA and AAS. He got a bit confused at the board. I’m not sure how
many of his classmates were paying close attention on a warm Friday
afternoon in October. Did they see clearly where he needed to go, as he
did not? At least Tolgay was learning: what you think you understand
when you are by yourself may become strange when you are standing up
in front of others.
I dragged things out after Tolgay wrote:

∠AHB = ∠DF E;
∠ACB = ∠DF E;
∠AHB > ∠ACB,

which is impossible. I wanted him to spell out the intermediate conclusion


that ∠AHB = ∠ACB.
Talking to me once after class, Jeremy heard me say that I thought
students should be able to express Euclid’s enunciations in their own
words, while being reasonably faithful to Euclid’s style. In presenting
I., Jeremy did write down the enunciation in his own words; and he
remarked that he was doing so. But really, I didn’t think he needed to
take the time to do that in writing; like most of his classmates, he could
∗ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steiner-Lehmus_theorem

 . Euclid
have drawn a picture and just worked with that. But Jeremy does seem
to aim at giving crisp presentations; so perhaps he sets a good example.
After Özge proved I. (parallel lines make equal alternate angles, etc.),
we took a break. During the break, Cihan asked me if this was the first
time we had used the Fifth Postulate, and if so, didn’t that mean that
everything before I. was true without the Fifth Postulate. Yes, I said,
except that (as I had suggested at the time) I. raises a question for
some commentators.
Ali wasn’t sure that we had really needed Postulate  in I.. Here,
finally, I said we should talk about this in class. Ali seems to be one of
the most attentive students; if he is confused at this point, others must
be.
In class then, I had Ali raise his question. I reviewed a case of a
‘logical’ theorem, such as I., which follows immediately from I. and
I.. I asked whether I. could follow in such a way from its converse,
I.. Ali, at least, agreed that it couldn’t. I couldn’t resist mentioning
Lobachevsky and his working out the consequences of the negation of
I..
After Taner presented I. (an exterior angle is equal to the two oppo-
site interior angles, and all interior angles are equal to two right angles),
I asked him whether he had been familiar with the fact before. Yes, he
said, but he had never proved it. I had been wondering just how familiar
all these propositions seemed to the students. They confirmed for me my
understanding that, on the university entrance exam, they just have to
be able to compute numbers (perhaps angle measures in a geometrical
figure).
I told Taner I was sorry he hadn’t proved these propositions before.
He said he was sorry too.
At some point I asked who was in the geometry class of one of my
colleagues, Cem Bey. Cihan, Taner, and maybe some others said they
were.
What are you doing? I asked.
Proofs! said Taner. He didn’t know the English, he said, but they were
studying things like the ağır merkezi.
Oh, the center of gravity, I said.
Yes, and the Nine Point Circle, said Cihan.
I wrote down the statement of the Steiner–Lehmus Theorem without
naming it; but Cihan knew the name—from that Geometry class, appar-

.. Friday, October  


ently. Anyway, I need to talk to Cem Bey.
On other days, there have been only just enough desks in our classroom.
If that had been true today, I was going to push them all to the edge.
In fact, I told this to some students before class, and one of them asked,
‘Why?’
I didn’t say it was because of talk of Harkness Tables and so forth on
the J-list. I just said everybody was a sort of teacher in class, and I didn’t
want people sitting behind others and chit-chatting—as had happened a
little bit before.
Well, there were a lot more desks in the room this time, and I didn’t
feel like pushing them all around, but maybe I should have. Rashad sat
in back playing with his cell phone. Taner and Seçil, conferring over a
desk, said they were working on the mathematics; I said we should all
talk about it together, but nothing really came of this.
I was going to say here that my class was not quite St John’s, but then
I remembered a Johnny classmate who used to sit at the seminar table
reading science fiction novels in her lap.

.. Thursday, October 


On Tuesday, October , I did arrange the classroom desks in a sort
of semicircle. When some students walked in late and tried to go be-
hind, their classmates indicated that they should find a seat in the circle.
Students moved their desks to accommodate the newcomers.
Propositions I.– were presented by Ahmet, Mürsel, Tuğba, Melis,
Nur, and Rashad.
I. (‘parallelograms which are on the same base and in the same paral-
lels are equal to one another’) is supposedly the place where the meaning
of equality changes. Indeed, Mürsel wrote the statement on the board as
I have quoted it, but after ‘equal’ he inserted a parenthetical comment:
‘(equal in area)’. After his presentation, I asked what ‘area’ was, claiming
that we had no notion of area as a number (even with units, as 5 cm2 ).
Euclid just says the two parallelograms are equal, and I don’t see any
difference in meaning from I., where the statement is:

If two triangles have the two sides equal to two sides respectively, and
have the angles contained by the equal straight lines equal, they will
also have the base equal to the base, the triangle will be equal to the

 . Euclid
triangle, and the remaining angles will be equal to the remaining angles
respectively, namely those which the equal sides subtend.

If by saying the two triangles were equal here, Euclid had meant they
were congruent, then he would not have bothered to mention the further
equalities of sides and of angles.
It could have been after I., but I think it was after I. when Jeremy
asked: why didn’t Euclid just use the method of ‘application’, as in I.
and I.? After all, I. is the variant of I. where the parallelograms
are on equal bases. Then I. is like I., but is about triangles on the
same base; and I. is about triangles on equal bases.
So in proving I. and I., why didn’t Euclid just say, Apply one figure
to the other so that they have the same base? I just suggested that Euclid
preferred to avoid using the method of application whenever possible.
That’s perhaps an inadequate answer, since he could have avoided the
method in proving I., but didn’t.
It occurs to me only now that a better answer to Jeremy’s question
would be that, after applying one figure to the other, one can no longer
be sure without proof that the two figures are in the same parallels.
Jeremy addressed his question to me, calling me ‘Sir’. If it happens
again, I’ll ask him at least to use the Turkish Hocam (‘My teacher’; but
even bus drivers are Hocam at our university). Really Jeremy should have
addressed the whole class with his question; but I don’t know what more
I can do than I have already done to raise interest in general discussion.
After their presentations, students are uttering a pro forma ‘Any ques-
tions?’ to their classmates.
It is interesting to see the different styles of students at the board.
Some make their arguments almost entirely out loud, and I ask them to
write down some of the details. Others try to write down everything,
and I suggest that they can leave some things out (especially the general
enunciation).
I hope I’m not micromanaging. From freshman mathematics at St
John’s College, I do recall a time when one student was drawing a straight
line from A to B, and Mr Kutler suggested it would be better drawn from
B to A.
Back in Ankara, at the end of class, I took volunteers for the remaining
propositions in Book I. Already Çağdaş had been lined up for I.; but
since that proposition seems not to be a Euclid original, I asked Çağdaş

.. Thursday, October  


if he would do I. instead. He agreed, mentioning his awareness that it
was Heiberg who had declared I. an interpolation.
After Book I, I plan to lecture on the theory of proportion. There are
two challenges to reading Euclid: the mathematics, and Euclid’s style
of doing mathematics. For proportion at least, I shall try to mitigate
the latter challenge through the use of symbolism. I am aware that
written symbolism is subject to the same criticism that Socrates levelled
at writing in general: It allows the brain to get lazy.
In any case, I want to challenge the students with Apollonius as soon
as possible.
I talked some time on Tuesday morning with Cem Bey, who seems
quite pleased to learn about my course. He asked if I would cover non-
Euclidean geometry in my own course, since, for himself, the discovery of
non-Euclidean geometry was more important than landing on the moon.
That sounded naive to me: of course the geometry was more important!
In any case, I said I would do non-Euclidean geometry in the spring
semester, if I was assigned the modern math history course.
Cem Bey confirmed that there was no Turkish translation of Euclid;
there had just been an Ottoman translation of a geometry text used
at Sandhurst. (Cem Bey is, among other things, a scholar of Ottoman
mathematics, and he detests the Turkish language reforms, which have
deprived him of the expressiveness of Ottoman Turkish.)
Regarding Euclid, Cem Bey mentioned that we did have a colleague
whose mother tongue was Greek; but I already knew this. (She was
born in Rhodes, but took Turkish citizenship some time after coming to
Ankara to study; she now needs a visa to visit her family back in Rhodes.)
Cem Bey was impressed to learn that there were ‘still’ colleges like St
John’s in the West. Though he considered German almost as his mother
tongue, he regretted not having been able to read Kant.
I don’t really need more projects, but now I want to translate Euclid
into Turkish. At least Turkish has a better way than English does for
expressing Euclid’s passive third-person perfect imperatives.

.. Saturday, October 


My next installment is fairly rushed; but as usual I want to keep a record
while the memory is fresh.

 . Euclid
On Friday, October , we finished Book I. I don’t know how well the
students appreciated the poetry of Euclid, but I think they enjoy the
class reasonably well. At least, I never have any trouble getting volunteers
for presenting propositions.
I have wondered if it is tedious for some students to see their classmates
work out laborious proofs of ‘obvious’ facts. Even if the students accept
that proofs are necessary, maybe they get frustrated to see a classmate
struggle with what should be an ‘easy’ proof. But I don’t have any real
evidence of this, and anyway the proofs are getting harder now.
Before class, Ali asked if we would sit in a semicircle again. He didn’t
mind sitting in the front row, he said, but maybe other students did. I
decided just to leave the chairs as they were, in a rectangular array. I
didn’t notice any chatting in the back this time.
Moreover, I had a couple of guests, one of whom I knew from the Nesin
Mathematics Village in the summer of . She’s only now a first-year
student in our department. I don’t know what she had heard about
my class, but she came and listened and took notes. She had a male
companion, but I don’t know if he was equally interested. Indeed, my
spouse noticed a guest in her linear algebra that day: he seemed to be
the boyfriend of one of the students.
Ali also asked me whether we had Euclid’s text only because of the
Arabs. I said there were some texts of which this was the case, but I
didn’t think it was so for Euclid.
Ali also asked why we were skipping I.. He didn’t understand how
Heiberg could decide that it was an interpolation. I didn’t know how,
but recalled something about a papyrus fragment mentioned by Heath.
Anyway, Ali agreed that I. was not particularly surprising or important.
After Çağdaş has proved I., when Ali started proving I. (construc-
tion of a parallelogram in a given angle equal to a given triangle), he
asked if his triangle was too small. Nobody complained, so he contin-
ued. But he stood right in front of his picture, facing and talking to the
blackboard. I suggested that many people couldn’t see, but he just said
‘I already asked if my picture was too small.’
Tolga made his first presentation with I. (the complements of paral-
lelograms about the diameter of a parallelogram are equal). The previous
class had been the first that he attended. It wasn’t too clear that he un-
derstood what he was proving. He may have been confused by Euclid’s
convention of writing EG and HF to designate parallelograms. He

.. Saturday, October  


seemed surprised when I drew attention to the convention, although he
had supposedly finished his proof. I tried to get him to shade the two
equal parallelograms EG and HF , but he didn’t understand the request
until somebody else explained in Turkish.
I. (construction of a parallelogram in a given angle, on a given side,
equal to a given triangle) was pleasant. It’s nice how Euclid proves that
HB and F E must actually meet when produced. But Özge was vague
about what the point L was, so I inquired about this. It turns out that
here, as elsewhere, Euclid does not describe the construction of the figure,
but talks about a figure that has already been constructed. Özge drew
KL parallel and equal to F H. Euclid just draws it parallel, and L
is determined because this is where it meets HA extended; but Euclid
names KL before he has even referred to the extension of HA. I seem
to recall being a bit disconcerted, as a student, by this habit; but I don’t
recall considering the reason for the habit. On Friday, I went to the board
to ask why HA and (the line that ends up being) KL can’t be parallel.
I thought of using the Fifth Postulate again, but the students told me
that if HA and KL were parallel, then the intersecting lines F E and F G
would be parallel.
Ahmet proved I. (construction of a parallelogram equal to a given
rectilinear figure). He still wanted to say that the two figures had equal
areas, not that the figures were themselves equal. But it was break time,
so I postponed my complaint till after that.
Then I drew three lines on the board: one straight, two curved. I
asked: Do they have lengths? I asked for a show of hands; most people
said the lines did have lengths; a couple said No.
I asked, If you think this curved line has a length, what is it?
Jeremy said, We need a unit.
I drew a unit. He said, We need a smaller unit.
I acknowledged that with calculus one could define the length of a
curved line; but we couldn’t do it with the tools at hand. I wanted to
argue that it was meaningless to abstract a ‘length’ from a line unless
you could compare two lines (for example) and say they were equal; then
you might define ‘length’ as ‘that by virtue of which two equal lines are
equal.’ But Euclid gives us no way to compare curved and straight lines;
so it is meaningless to talk about the length of a curved line. Rashad
wanted to be able to pull a curved line straight; I observed that we had
no such postulate.

 . Euclid
Jeremy argued that we should still allow a concept of length, for the
sake of philosophy, or something like that. I said we should avoid talking
nonsense, to keep philosophy from getting a bad name.
With plane figures, the matter is different. Euclid does give us the
means to compare them. Now we know that triangles can be ‘equal’
to parallelograms and other figures. OK then, what makes them equal
is their ‘areas’, if you like; but we are still far from having ‘area’ as a
number.
Today we may approximate areas by of figures by dividing them into
little squares. Euclid turns rectilinear figures into parallelograms by I.;
but the parallelograms need not even be rectangles. Here I uttered my
complaint that we today were obsessed with right angles: that every
angle on our campus, in fact, was right.
Back during the break, Çağdaş had looked at my Green Lion edi-
tion [] of Euclid and wondered about the claim on the back that Euclid
was the most celebrated mathematician of all time. Did I agree with
that? he asked me. He seemed to think that somebody was going to
write some such compendium as Euclid’s; Euclid just happened to be the
one who did it. Maybe I didn’t understand his idea.
After Besmir constructed a square in I., Rashad gave a careful proof
of I.. Jeremy asked why we call it Pythagorean, if Euclid proved it.
Rashad said that Euclid’s theorem was different: Pythagoras’s theorem
was

a2 + b 2 = c2 .

I told Ayşe about this later. I thought Rashad meant that Pythago-
ras was interested in identifying ‘Pythagorean triples’, like (3, 4, 5) or
(7, 12, 13); but Ayşe suggested that possibly Rashad didn’t actually see
the connection between a geometrical square and the square of a number.
Time was running out, but I thought we should fit in I. to complete
Book I, and Seçil was ready. It’s a nice proof: In proving a converse,
Euclid often uses the method of contradiction; he could do the same for
I., but he avoids this and gives a direct proof.
Next time, a few propositions from Book II. I wonder what the volun-
teers will make of them.

.. Saturday, October  


.. Wednesday, October 
On Tuesday, October , I had five students lined up for the first five
propositions of Book II. Jeremy was number ; but Ali told me that
Jeremy couldn’t come: something about seeing the police concerning his
residence permit. Jeremy hadn’t asked Ali to present II. in his place,
but I asked Ali if he would do it anyway, and he agreed.
Class hadn’t started yet, so Ali went on to ask me whether Euclid does
define ‘area’ somewhere. It seems these kids are obsessed with assigning
numbers to geometrical figures. Without numbers, it’s not math! That’s
what the system seems to teach them.
I mentioned that Euclid was surely aware of the desirability of assigning
numerical areas to plots of land; it just wasn’t his interest in the Elements.
The Elements ends with the construction of the five Platonic solids, I said;
Ali seemed to find this exciting.
Five minutes into class, there were still only about five students. One
of them speculated that the others had gone home for the holiday: Thurs-
day is Republic Day. Friday is not an official holiday, but I cancelled class
anyway so that Ayşe and I can take a long weekend down by the Mediter-
ranean, and the students can have a break too. But I didn’t mean for
them to take the whole week off.
Some time during Ali’s presentation, several other students walked in.
Ali used the notation (A, B) for the rectangle contained by A and B.
When Mehmet presented II., he used R(A, B) for this rectangle, and
S(A) for the square on A. I invited him to write a modern algebraic
formulation of the proposition, and he did.
Tolga’s presentation of II. was confused, but it was Ali and somebody
else (Cihan?) who got him to straighten things out, not I.
Yunus took a long time with II., though in the end he seemed to be
able to recover a rigorous demonstration in the manner of Euclid. When
I asked him, he admitted that he didn’t see the point of proving the
proposition, since it is obvious that (x + y)2 = x2 + 2xy + y 2 . I suggested
that this equation is just symbols, but the geometry is the ‘real thing.’
I think I mentioned that Descartes thought the Greeks must have had
some sort of algebra. I don’t know, myself. When I worked through Book
I of Apollonius in , I had the impression that he did not have the
sort of algebraic point of view that I could adopt.
I asked Özge to postpone her presentation of II. till next week. I used

 . Euclid
the remaining few minutes to give a preview of proportion. I stated VI.
in words and also in the form

ABC : ACD :: BC : CD.

But what does this mean? I asked. I wrote it in the form that the
students would expect:

area(ABC) |BC|
= ,
area(ACD) |CD|
but argued that we didn’t know what this meant. Actually, Ali and others
might argue that they do know what this means, with calculus.
A thought about Book II: Heath suggests that Euclid proves the first
ten propositions independently because he is mainly interested in estab-
lishing a method. He could derive II. from II., for example, but that’s
not the point. In Book I though, it is the point, or a point: I mean,
Euclid’s bisection of an angle in Proposition  is not the most efficient;
but it relies on Proposition , and perhaps for this reason Euclid prefers
the construction he gives to an independent construction. It’s as in a
joke:∗
How does a mathematician boil water? By filling the kettle, putting it
on the stove, and turning on the flame.
What if the flame is already on? Then the mathematician turns it off,
thus reducing the problem to the previous problem.

.. Friday, November 


Class on Tuesday, November , was a lecture by me. Özge was going to
present II., but she wasn’t there on time, so I just jumped ahead and
presented II.. In algebraic formulation, this is

(2x + y)2 + y 2 = 2x2 + 2(x + y)2 ,

which can be rearranged to form the equation

(2x + y)2 − 2(x + y)2 = y 2 − 2x2 .


∗ The joke is based on a section of Smullyan’s book What is the Name of This

Book? [].

.. Friday, November  


In particular, if (a, b) is a solution to

2x2 − y 2 = 1,

then (a + b, 2a + b) is a solution to

y 2 − 2x2 = 1.

So we can generate a sequence

(1, 1), (2, 3), (5, 7), (12, 17), (29, 41), . . . , (an , bn ), . . .

where bn /an tends towards the square root of 2. This is what we ‘know’
today; but what does it mean? What is ‘the square root of 2’ ?
I proved VI., having assumed VI. without proving it or even defining
proportions exactly. Then I went back to discuss the definitions in Book
V of having a ratio and having the same ratio. Then I proved VI..
I saw a lot of sleepy faces as I stood at the blackboard. This reminded
me that it had been good when the students were doing the presenting
at the blackboard.
Well, today I give an exam on Book I, which is why I didn’t want to
trouble them to give presentations on Tuesday. The exam problems are
[see also §A.]:
. To find the error in a proof that all triangles are isosceles. (I don’t
know if some students will have seen this in some popular book.)
. To translate some Greek words (like θεώρημα and πολύγωνον) into
English.
. To write down the Greek alphabet.
. To give a proof of I., analyzed into the six parts described by
Proclus (enunciation, exposition, specification, construction, proof,
and conclusion). A confusing point here is that Euclid’s proof is by
contradiction, so the ‘construction’ step is based on a hypothesis
that turns out to be false. So what part does this false hypothesis
lie in? I don’t know whether Proclus contemplated this question.
One doesn’t really need the false hypothesis though, one can just
construct the point D, which in the end turns out to be the same
as A.
. To prove I. (‘SSS’) without using Euclid’s method of application.
I had invited the students once or twice to consider this problem.

 . Euclid
. Something new: In triangle ABC, suppose BC is bisected at D,
and straight line AD is drawn. Assuming AB is greater than AC,
prove that angle BAD is less than DAC. It’s possible that few will
get this, but I want to find out.
Meanwhile, at the end of class on Tuesday, I lined up volunteers for next
Tuesday to present some propositions about circles from Book III: ,
, , , and . I chose these because they seem to be needed for
Apollonius, and I am keen to get to him. (‘Had we but world enough and
time,’ we would just read all of Euclid. ‘But at my back I always hear
time’s winged chariot hurrying near.’) After Book III, I’ll get students to
present from Book V, so they can deal with proportionality themselves.

.. Friday, November 


Last Friday, November , I gave the students in ‘math history’ class a
written exam. I was depressed afterwards, because I had the impression
that the students had not done well. I feared that my own enthusiasm had
blinded me to the difficulties that the students must have with Euclid.
After I read the exams on Saturday morning, I felt a lot better. I saw
that I had not been wrong to put a ‘hard’ problem on the exam. Several
students found a better proof than the one I had thought of.
On another problem, a student introduced a novel method of proof.
Maybe he didn’t clearly see that he was doing this, but: If you are given
that angle ABC is greater than angle DEF , doesn’t that mean that there
is some straight line AD drawn inside angle ABC so that angle ABD
is equal to angle DEF ? It would seem so, except that Euclid insists on
being able to construct AD.
Unfortunately most students had not taken seriously my demand that
they learn the Greek alphabet. But some had, including one, Taner, who
had once complained [p. ] about doing math in English rather than
Turkish.
When I met with my set theory study group on Saturday, our classroom
had the Greek alphabet on the board, with a few mistakes. I recognized
the hand as that of Tolgay—who had not made those mistakes on the
exam.
I put a photo of that blackboard on the course webpage, along with
solutions and commentary on the exam.

.. Friday, November  


On Tuesday, November , Özge presented II.. I was glad I had
asked her to do this, because this provided an opportunity for discussing
problems like: Given a straight line AB and a square C, how can we find
point D on it so that the rectangle contained by AD and DB is equal to
C? I worked this out analytically, that is, by assuming that we already
have D and working backwards. I gave the students the exercise of doing
the same thing, only with D on AB extended.
I also did II.—to divide a straight line in extreme and mean ratio
(though the terminology is not available at this point yet)—again in the
analytic style, though not in Descartes’s algebraic style. It seems to me
quite plausible now that, as Mr Thomas reported on the J-list, Newton
also thought about his work in the ancient style, visually, rather than by
symbol manipulation. Actually, Mr Thomas wrote:

One of the things that I knew coming out of St John’s was that Newton
derived his results ‘analytically’ and then cast them into ‘synthetic’
form à la Euclid. Cohen [] tells us, however, that there is ‘no shred’
of evidence that this was so. And Newton apparently never threw
anything away, so the absence of evidence is telling.

So I wonder if ‘analytic’ and ‘synthetic’ are the right words here. But I
haven’t got Newton with me yet.
Meanwhile, today, November , half the students didn’t show up. I
was told that they had an exam in another class right after mine, and they
wanted to study. Their teacher was a friend we went out with last night,
actually. Anyway, students presented a few propositions about circles
from Book III that I had asked for, and then we moved on to Book V.
But I haven’t time to say much about that yet. At the beginning of
class, I did discuss a common English error [at least by native Turkish
speakers]: to write

Let AB is the given straight line

rather than

Let AB be the given straight line.

I talked about the Turkish subjunctive and imperative verbs and noted
the English periphrastic equivalents.

 . Euclid
.. Wednesday, November 
On November , Elif began with III., namely: In a circle, a diameter
bisects a chord that is not a diameter if and only if the two are at right
angles. (I note by the way that Euclid does not seem to use the word
‘chord’.)
In Book III, I tried to select for presentation only those propositions
that would be needed for Apollonius. To do this, I relied on the editors
of Euclid and Apollonius. Proposition III. really relies on III.: To find
the center of a given circle. But the Green Lion edition doesn’t indicate
as much. I didn’t notice this until Elif presented III.. I asked her if she
could prove III., but she couldn’t. I asked if somebody else could do it,
and Cihan said he could. He did it too, by taking the intersection of the
perpendicular bisectors of two chords with a common endpoint. Euclid
doesn’t do this: he take the midpoint of the perpendicular bisector of one
chord.
Is III. really required for III.? The former is a ‘problem’, the latter
a ‘theorem’. The latter simply needs to know that the center of a circle
exists; but it does exist, by definition of a circle. Possibly this is why the
Green Lion editors, or Heath before them, left off a reference to III..
But Euclid does not seem to rely on the existence of something unless
he can actually construct it. Later I shall mention an exception to this,
in Book V. Meanwhile, I think that, in Euclid’s own terms, III. relies
on III..
Jeremy was supposed to do III., but he was missing, so I did it.
The theorem was no surprise to the students: the angle at the center is
double the angle at the circumference. Cihan raised the question of what
happens when the ‘angle at the circumference’ is considered as drawn to
the smaller half of the circumference.
Nur proved III.: angles in the same segment are equal. I asked her
when she had first learned this. Before high school, she said.
Tuğba presented III.: the opposite angles in a quadrilateral inscribed
in a circle are equal to two right angles.
Taner presented III., but said he was confused about something. I
discounted this, until I realized that there really was something strange.
The proposition is mainly that the angle in a semicircle is right; that the
angle in a segment that is greater than a semicircle is less than a right
angle; and less, greater. Taner had no problem with this.

.. Wednesday, November  


But then Euclid says the angle of a segment that is greater than a
semicircle is greater than a right angle. He’s talking about a curvilinear
angle. The same sort of angle is mentioned in III., but we had skipped
this: ‘. . . further the angle of the semicircle is greater, and the remaining
angle less, than any acute rectilineal angle’.
In Euclid: The Creation of Mathematics [, p. ], by Benno Art-
mann, I read the claim that III. shows that Euclid was aware of ‘non-
Archimedean’ orderings. That’s a strong claim. In the language of Book
V, the angle between a tangent and a circle does not have a ratio with
any rectilineal angle, since no multiple of the former can exceed the lat-
ter. But Euclid does not seem to remark on magnitudes that do not have
a ratio. Throughout Book V, there often needs to be an assumption that
certain magnitudes have a ratio; Euclid does not mention this assump-
tion. One might wonder whether different people compiled Book V and
the earlier books.
In class we moved on to Book V ourselves. Cihan presented V.; Yunus,
V.. But there was not much to present. Unfortunately, again I don’t
recall clearly what happened: it was five days ago.
Actually I do recall that Yunus misstated his proposition first, so we
corrected it. Euclid states V. in terms of six magnitudes, a first through
a sixth. If he was going to use algebraic notation, I thought Yunus might
call these magnitudes A1 , A2 , . . . , A6 . But he didn’t.
I must have got up to write my own algebraic formulation of these
propositions:

nA1 + nA2 + · · · + nAm = n(A1 + A2 + · · · + Am ),


n1 A + n2 A + · · · + nm A = (n1 + n2 + · · · + nm )A.

Here capital letters are magnitudes, and minuscules are multipliers.


It does appear that Euclid himself treats multipliers in isolation in one
place, VII.: ‘To find the number which is the least that will have given
parts.’ He means for example to find a number that will have a third
part, a fourth part, and a seventh part. In this case we must find the
least number A for which there are numbers B, C, and D such that
A = 3B = 4C = 7D.
But in the general situation, Euclid says, in effect, let E, F , and G
be the given parts. But then we can’t just apply Proposition VII. to
this, taking the least number measured by E, F , and G. No, first we

 . Euclid
have to take numbers H, K, and L that are ‘called by the same name
as’ E, F , and G. So in my example, E, F , and G are not three, four,
and seven; they are third, fourth, and seventh. But third, fourth, and
seventh what? I don’t know. Proposition VII. is the last in Book VII,
so maybe it was added later. Heath doesn’t suggest this however; nor
does he remark on its strangeness. He says only that VII. is ‘practically
a restatement’ of VII.. If so, then we really should inquire why Euclid
makes the restatement.
Back to my class, and my equations above. I suggested to the class
that magnitudes and their multipliers were like vectors and scalars in
linear algebra. In particular, the two equations above are certainly not
‘practically the same’. This point comes out to us if we write (as I did in
class) V. as
k(mA) = (km)A.
Multipliers can multiply each other; magnitudes as such cannot.
I hadn’t actually assigned V.. Tolga had volunteered for V., but was
not present. I presented it. It is the first proposition about proportions:
Symbolically,
if A : B :: C : D, then kA : mB :: kC : mD.

I should have assigned V., since V. uses it.


Mehmet was supposed to present V., but we were out of time. That’s
good, because he and I got to talk about his proposition before he pre-
sented it. He asked me after class whether V. wasn’t simply
if a = b, then a/c = b/c,

and if so, isn’t it obvious? I said:


. If you think it is obvious, you can say so when you present it.
. Do not write fractions like a/c. Today we think of a fraction as a
single thing, a number. But in Euclid we have no justification for
thinking this way. We can think the way we do only because people
like Euclid have done the groundwork.
. Do not use the equals sign between ratios. Equality is a ‘common
notion’. If A = B and B = C, then we know A = C. We don’t
know this with ratios, but must prove it; in fact it is V..
Unlike, say, ‘less than’, proportion is not a relation between two things;
it is a relation between four things. Such relations are almost unheard

.. Wednesday, November  


of, unless we want to take an expression like ‘These are my parents,
and this is my sister’ as signifying a single relation between four people.
Moreover, proportion is something we define. So we cannot just ‘intuit’
its properties; we have to prove them.
That’s roughly what I said to Mehmet, except I didn’t use the example
of familial relations. I recall talking more, even bringing up what I learned
from Mr Thomas, that there’s no evidence that Newton did not think
about mathematics the way the Ancients did. Mehmet is majoring in
physics as well as mathematics. I don’t know if he found it attractive
to learn that, if I did get to teach the second semester of this course, I
wanted to read Newton.

.. Friday, November 


On Tuesday, November , Mehmet started math history class by pre-
senting Euclid’s Proposition V.. He stated it as
If A = B, then A : C :: B : C and C : A :: C : B

and then he declared that it was obvious. As I noted in my last entry,


such a declaration is what I had suggested (if he thought it correct).
I said maybe the proposition is obvious, after one observes that
A : B :: C : D if and only if C : D :: A : B

(the ‘::’ relation is symmetric). Mehmet said, correctly I think, that all
one really needs to observe is that

A : C :: A : C

(the ‘::’ relation is reflexive). But then one needs a ‘substitution prin-
ciple’: if two things are equal, then one of them can be substituted for
another in any mathematical statement.
Now, Euclid does not have a proposition to the effect that A : C :: A :
C. Would he take such a proposition as obvious, or as pointless?
The Common Notions include , that things equal to the same are
equal to each other. If we want to express this symbolically, we might
write
If A = C and B = C, then A = B.

 . Euclid
But then we should also observe that

If A = B, then B = A,

so that, if we should find that A = C and C = B, then A = B. However,


there is no express Common Notion to the effect that, if a first thing is
equal to a second thing, then the second thing is equal to the first. This
is just tacitly understood. One does need it in modern mathematical
arguments.
‘A thing is equal to itself’ is not a Common Notion either. It may
be true, but, although devotees of Ayn Rand may worship the equation
‘A = A’, I can’t think of an occasion where such an equation is used in
mathematics. This is why I suggest that it might be pointless for Euclid
to prove A : C :: A : C.
Again, from A : C :: A : C, one could derive V.; but again, this
would be by a ‘principle of substitution’, and such a principle could not
very well be stated in Euclidean terms. Euclid is not in the business of
manipulating formal expressions in some artificial ‘language’. The best
way for him to prove V. is probably just as he does it. In particular,
V. is not obvious.
But I can subject my students to only so much of this speculation.
Back in class, we moved on to V.. Besmir was supposed to do it; but he
thought he was supposed to prove III.. Other presenters in class knew
we were in Book V; so the mistake must have been Besmir’s.
I presented V. myself. It brought to light yet another difficulty with
Book V. The claim is this, symbolically:

If A > B, then A : C > B : C and C : B > C : A.

Assume A > B. We want multiples of the various magnitudes so that

kA > mC, but kB < mC;

we might write this as

kA > mC > kB.

To achieve this, we should make the gap between kA and kB greater


than C. But
kA − kB = k(A − B),

.. Friday, November  


by V.. So we just take k large enough that

k(A − B) > C.

To do this, we assume that A − B and C have a ratio in the sense of


Definition V.. More on this presently. Meanwhile, accepting this, we let
mC be the first multiple of C that exceeds kB. Then kA > mC > kB,
as desired.
In Heath’s translation, Proposition V. is:
Of unequal magnitudes, the greater has to the same a greater ratio
than the less has; and the same has to the less a greater ratio than it
has to the greater.

There is an implicit assumption: each of the three magnitudes mentioned


does have a ratio to each of the rest. That’s fine. But there’s another
assumption, which the proof requires: If two different magnitudes have
a ratio to a third ratio, then so does their difference. This means, for
example, we can’t take the sum of a square A and a straight line B and
call the result C: for then we should have, presumably, C > A, although
C : A :: A : A.
Ali presented V.; but he just said it followed immediately from V.,
being its contrapositive. I noted that it was the contrapositive, provided
one noted that, of two unequal magnitudes, exactly one is greater than
the other.
Ahmet presented V.:
If A : B :: C : D and C : D :: E : F , then A : B :: E : F

(the ‘::’ relation is transitive). He just said it followed from the transitivity
of implication: If A implies B and B implies C, then A implies C. He
admitted it was slightly more complicated, because of the quantifiers: we
assume
() for all k and m, if kA > mB, then kC > mD,
() for all k and m, if kC > mD, then kE > mF .
We want to conclude
() for all k and m, if kA > mB, then kE > mF .
Actually, using formal logic might obscure the point.
Çağdaş presented V.: If

A1 : B1 :: A2 : B2 :: · · · :: An : Bn ,

 . Euclid
then
Ak : Bk :: A1 + A2 + · · · + An : B1 + B2 + · · · + Bn .
I think it was here, and I think it was Ali who pointed out the assumption
that each of these magnitudes should have a ratio to the others; other-
wise we might be adding squares and straight lines, which would lead to
problems as discussed above with V..

.. Friday, November 


Mr Gorham asked on the J-list:
Isn’t reciprocity included in the notion of ‘equal to’ ? Maybe I’m think-
ing of it linguistically instead of mathematically but it seems to me
there’s no need to spell out that if A = B then B = A because ‘=’
contains within it the idea of a two way street.

What do you mean by ‘included in’ ? When Euclid writes ‘Things equal to
the same are equal to one another,’ well, indeed that reciprocal pronoun
‘one another’—I guess one would call it reciprocal, or something like
that—that ‘one another’ suggests the meaning, ‘A is equal to B, and B
is equal to A.’
But we modern mathematicians recognize that equality has three dis-
tinct properties:
Reflexivity A = A;
Symmetry if A = B then B = A;
Transitivity if A = B and B = C then A = C.
It is of some interest that Euclid (or somebody writing under that name)
distinguished only the last (or some formulation of the last) as a Common
Notion (again, unless you want to read symmetry also into that Common
Notion). However, the relation of ‘less than or equal to’ is reflexive and
transitive, but not symmetric. Other such examples show that no two of
the properties imply the third.
Eva Brann’s friend Barry Mazur has an article on his homepage∗ called
‘When is one thing equal to some other thing?’ It’s been a while since I
read it, but the theme (as I recall) is the mystery about what equality is
in mathematics.
∗ I can’t find the article at http://www.math.harvard.edu/~mazur/ anymore, but

it seems to have been published as [].

.. Friday, November  


.. Saturday, November 
In the class of Friday, November , it was interesting to see the different
styles of different students in presenting propositions from Book V.
Rashad began with V., using modern symbolism. He was a bit late,
and before his arrival, I had ranted a bit about the irresponsibility of
agreeing to present a proposition and then not showing up. Then Rashad
entered in a rush.
Melis continued with V., following Euclid’s style exactly. The enun-
ciation is, ‘Parts have the same ratio as the same multiples of them taken
in corresponding order.’ For convenience, I would write:

A : B :: kA : kB.

Melis just wrote out the words, and gave the proof as Euclid does, with
a diagram like Euclid’s, for the case where (in my notation above) k = 3.
Such ‘proof by example’ is perhaps considered short of rigorous today; at
least, it’s out of style. But what really is the problem with it?
I asked Melis, ‘What if there were seventeen of the part in the whole,
instead of three?’
She said, ‘The proof would be the same.’ She’s right.
Seçil presented V., which symbolically is
If A : B :: C : D, then A : C :: B : D.

She also followed Euclid closely, but I had the feeling that this was because
she did not comprehend the proof very well. Actually she confused some
letters, but had a bit of trouble correcting them when the mistake was
pointed out. Well, I know one’s brain can stop working well when one is
standing at the blackboard; it had happened to me earlier in the day in
our departmental algebra seminar.
Mürsel was next with V.: ‘If magnitudes be proportional compo-
nendo, they will also be proportional separando.’ But he didn’t write
out the words, and I don’t think many of the students are using Heath’s
translation with those Latin expressions. Mürsel just gave a symbolic
statement and proof.
Talha, volunteer for V., was missing. Actually he hadn’t volunteered:
I assigned almost everybody a proposition from Book V. Talha started
attending class late, and he has never presented a proposition.

 . Euclid
I presented V. myself, noting what seems to be a first for us in Euclid:
an assertion of existence without construction. I mean, Euclid says that
if CD is not to DF as AB is to BE, then CD must be to some DG
as AB is to BE. Well, this seems to be a new postulate. We are in no
position yet to construct a magnitude that has a given ratio to another.
In the book [, Ch. , p. ] that I mentioned another day, Benno
Artmann passes on a claim that some propositions in Book V are copied
verbatim from Eudoxus, since nobody wanted to change the words of the
master. Maybe the proof of V. is evidence for this. [In fact Artmann
was talking about V..]
Tolgay presented V., and Özge, V.. Really, V. appears to be
just a lemma for use in proving V., which is

If A : B :: D : E and B : C :: E : F , then A : C :: D : F ex aequali.

And that was all it seemed necessary to do from Book V. [This was wrong;
I turned out to want V. for the final exam. I just gave it to the students
then.]
I had done VI. and  on an earlier day; now Besmir did VI. (equian-
gular triangles have proportional sides). I asked how he knew that BA
and ED met beyond A and D. The answer seemed to be that, if ED
met BA between A and B, then ED would cross AC; but these two lines
are parallel.
Elif presented VI.: triangles with one equal angle, and the sides about
it proportional, are equiangular. Euclid’s is another peculiar proof, like
that of I., where along one leg of a triangle, a new triangle is constructed
that turns out to be congruent to the first. If the new triangle were
constructed on the same side as the first, then it would coincide with
the first; but Euclid wouldn’t like this, so he would assume (by way of
contradiction) that the triangles were not congruent. Thus the fact that
a straight line has two sides allows Euclid sometimes to avoid proofs by
contradiction.
Seçil was scheduled for V., but our time was almost up, and she was
happy enough to postpone her presentation till Tuesday. Tolgay was
scheduled for V., but he had already left, apparently to collect his
thoughts before an exam immediately after my class. I took volunteers
for the remaining propositions in Book VI.

.. Saturday, November  


.. Friday, December 
I sent my last report on my ‘math history’ class almost three weeks ago,
on the class of Friday, November . Since then, there have been only
three classes, one hour each. Friday, November , was the Feast of the
Sacrifice. I have no classes on Thursday or Monday, so I got a five-day
weekend; but I spent it at my desk at home, working on various projects.
There was no real external compulsion to do this work, just my inner
drive.
One (but only one) of my projects was preparing to give a talk the
following weekend in Istanbul. There wasn’t really much to do, since I
could more or less repeat the talk I had given in France in the summer;
but I made a lot of adjustments. The occasion was a th-birthday
conference. I had met Oleg Belegradek when I was a student at Maryland.
Then he was still working in Siberia; now we have both ended up in
Turkey. For the birthday event, Oleg’s former Kemerovo colleague, Boris
Zil’ber, came from Oxford where he now works.
I cancelled math history class on Friday, December , to take an after-
noon bus to Istanbul. It was a bad time of day to go to Istanbul; evening
traffic held us up for an hour. The driver said the delay the previous
evening had been two hours.
At the party on Saturday evening, somebody gave Oleg a present:
Logicomix [].∗
I noted that the book had been purchased at Robinson Crusoe Books,
so on Monday I went there myself and bought a copy. I read it on the
bus back to Ankara that afternoon. It was my first graphic novel, and I
was impressed; but why shouldn’t I be impressed to see a mathematician-
philosopher made into a tragic hero like Orestes?
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
In class on Tuesday, November , Seçil presented VI.; Tolgay, VI.;
Mehmet, VI.; and Jeremy, VI.. Then I was moved to scold (some
of) the students for poor preparation. Seçil had looked at her notes
repeatedly. Jeremy was more polished, and he was able to write down
the numbers of the propositions that justified the steps of his proof; but
he couldn’t just explain in words why the steps were justified. I can’t fault
anybody for having difficulty with the mathematics; but I fault Jeremy
∗ http://www.logicomix.com/en/

 . Euclid
for trying to fake his way through a proof. I said to the class that notes
were not absolutely forbidden, since we regular teachers did use them
ourselves in teaching; still, I said, one ought be able to understand and
reproduce the general flow of one of Euclid’s arguments without copying
from a notebook.
Then Yunus got up and gave an exemplary exposition of VI., without
notes at all. (He did take a glance at the proposition in my copy of Euclid
before proceeding to the blackboard.)
Mürsel followed with VI., a special case of VI.. Then Elif finished
the day with VI.: to construct on a given straight line a rectilineal
figure ‘similar and similarly situated’ to a given one. I was sorry she just
used a quadrilateral like Euclid, rather than drawing a more outlandish
figure to emphasize the generality of the proposition.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
For the holiday, Cihan was flying to Bosnia to see his Serbian girlfriend,
whom he had met in France. Apparently he didn’t get back in time to
present VI. on Tuesday, December ; so I presented it.
Rashad did VI., which he said was immediate. Nur presented VI.;
but I recall going to the board myself to talk about what ‘compound
ratio’ meant. Ali finished our coverage of Book VI with Proposition .
You see I haven’t too much to report here, in part because I am late in
making the report. But I think the students have been bored; they may
think all of these propositions about proportion are obvious. Students
have been cutting class too, perhaps to prepare for other classes and their
exams. Perhaps they haven’t understood that a necessary and nearly
sufficient condition for getting a good grade in my course is showing up
to class. It’s hard to believe, unfortunately, that they don’t care about
their grade.
Mehmet finished the day with Proposition  of Book XI:
A part of a straight line cannot be in the plane of reference and a part
in a plane more elevated.

We discussed whether there was really anything to prove here. Euclid


argues that, if the contrary does happen, then the part of the straight
line that does lie in the ‘plane of reference’ can be extended in that plane.
Then two straight lines will have a common segment. I should think this
was obviously absurd; but Euclid proves the absurdity by drawing a
circle with two distinct diameters that have a common endpoint. Mehmet

.. Friday, December  


didn’t repeat that argument, and indeed the circle doesn’t appear in
Heath’s diagram.
Postulate  justifies extending straight lines, but says nothing about
planes. It is quite an exaggeration, this modern idea that Euclid builds
up his whole system from ‘axioms’. The Modern then has to say that
Euclid got it wrong, since propositions like XI. are ‘really’ axioms too.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
On Tuesday, December , Besmir presented XI.: In Heath’s transla-
tion:
If two straight lines cut one another, they are in one plane, and every
triangle is in one plane.

Besmir used Fitspatrick’s version, which inserts a parenthesis after ‘tri-


angle’: ‘formed using segments of both lines’. Before starting, Besmir
asked if he should write down the proposition, and I told him to decide.
This was a mistake. He wrote all those words, then he started writing the
words of the proof, without saying anything. He said he would explain
the proof after he had written it down. I suggested he do these at the
same time. He tried; but after some questions from me, he had to admit
that he didn’t understand the proof. Well, Heath has a note: ‘It must be
admitted that the ‘proof’ of this proposition is not of any value.’ There’s
really nothing that can be proved here, in our sense at least. Euclid’s
proof does suggest that assumption that two intersecting straight lines
must lie in one plane, at least near the point of intersection; then XI.
can be used to finish the proof.
In any case, it may be of value to confront the students with weird
proofs; it may induce them to be more questioning of what they read.
When he was finished, Besmir asked to leave and go study for an exam.
I said the door was unlocked.
Elif continued with XI.: ‘If two planes cut one another, their common
section is a straight line’. Despite several attempts, she just couldn’t get
the diagram right. This reminded me that a three-dimensional imagina-
tion may be difficult to acquire.
But Çağdaş gave an accomplished presentation of XI..
Taner was supposed to present XI., but he was absent, so I did it:
If three straight lines are at right angles, at the same point, to another
straight line, then the three are in one plane. Both Cihan and Ali raised
questions about the argument. I hope they would have raised them also if

 . Euclid
Taner had been presenting. I think Cihan had not quite understood that
(in Heath’s diagram) AB, AC, and AF are all in one plane, and angles
ABC and ABF are right (which is absurd unless BC and BF coincide).
Indeed, the claim cannot be seen from the figure alone.
At the end I set up the proposition explicitly as a converse of XI..
Together,  and  are that, if two straight lines meet a third at right
angles, and at the same point, and a third straight line meets the others
at that point, then this straight is in the plane of the first two if and only
if it is at right angles with the third.
With all of this talking, I used up the remaining time.
Today, if we can get through eight more propositions, then we shall be
finished with Euclid. Apollonius is next.

.. Tuesday, December 


In class on Friday, December , we finished with Euclid. It’s too bad,
because we stopped with Book XI; but now there are just ten hours left
for Apollonius.
Tolgay proved XI.: straight lines at right angles to the same plane
are parallel. Maybe this proposition sets a record for the most auxiliary
lines: to prove the parallism of two straight lines, five additional straight
lines are drawn.
We skipped XI., owing to a mistake of mine: I picked the proposi-
tions in Book XI by looking at what was needed in Book I of Apollonius,
according to the editors of the latter; but I forgot to check which propo-
sitions the needed propositions themselves needed.
In fact XI. calls on XI.: a straight line joining points on two parallel
straight lines is in the same plane as the parallels. But the latter hardly
needs proof—or can hardly be proved, as opposed to being assumed.
Proposition XI. is the converse of XI., and Tuğba proved it. When
she started drawing the diagram, I suggested that she could just use the
one left by Tolgay, since it is the same down to the lettering of the points.
[As I noted on p. ,] Reviel Netz suggests that for the ancients, the
diagram is a ‘metonym’ for a proposition; the diagram ‘individuates’
the proposition. By contrast, for us (he says), the enunciation of the
proposition is the metonym: this is what we quote when we want to
specify which proposition we are talking about.

.. Tuesday, December  


However, XI. and  have identical diagrams. But in fact, as they are
drawn in Heath at least, one is a mirror image of the other: it is reversed.
So when I suggested that Tuğba use Tolgay’s diagram, she looked at it
and decided she had better use her own.
Özge proved XI.: parallels to the same are parallel to each other. Is
it obvious? I don’t know about the students, but I think it is not obvious
in three dimensions. It’s not a surprising proposition; but proving it
takes a bit of work, and it’s ‘real’ work: you take a plane to which the
straight line A is at right angles; if B and C are parallel to A, then they
are at right angles to the plane by XI.; then they are parallel to each
other by XI.. And these are the record-breaking propositions in terms
of numbers of auxiliary straight lines needed in their proofs. Book XI has
some of the same logical music as Book I.
Seçil did XI., then we skipped ahead to XI., which Yunus did; then
Mürsel did XI., using and adapting Seçil’s diagram from XI.. I don’t
know if he was influenced by my earlier comments, or would have done
this anyway.
Mehmet did XI., and Rashad, XI., and that was it.
We had some time left. There were  students present, and I wanted
to assign the first  propositions of Apollonius. Tolga (who has not
attended many classes) said he would take the I. and . Then I just
wrote down the rest of the students from left to right. Tolgay said he
might miss next class, because of an exam. I said he shouldn’t, but I
moved him to a later proposition anyway.
I read out Kepler’s warning, at the beginning of the Green Lion edi-
tion [] of Apollonius, to the effect that some work is inherently difficult,
and Apollonius is an example. Now we’ll see what happens!

 . Euclid
. Apollonius and Archimedes

.. Tuesday, December 


Probably it’s good that we started today with Proposition I. of Apollo-
nius, rather than skip ahead to something meatier. Tolga proved it, as it
is proved in the text: I mean, he didn’t prove it as if he had thoroughly
understood it and was passing on his understanding. Not that there’s so
much to understand: a straight line joining the vertex of a conic surface
and another point in the surface lies on that surface.
The original Taliaferro translation [] in the Britannica Great Books
of the Western World introduces a small error, which is repeated in the
Green Lion edition: There are three diagrams, showing three possible
configurations. In two of the diagrams, B is on straight line AF , not
AE, and indeed the text would not make much sense if B were on AE.
But in the third diagram, B is on AE (extended).
The Heiberg edition does not feature such a mistake.∗
Actually, before Tolga started, I wrote down a bunch of Greek terms
from Apollonius that gave rise to English words (although the latter may
not be the words used to translate the former): The English words were
cycle, periphery, parallepiped, epiphany, center, basis, scalene, diameter.
Tolga made the English mistake commonly made [and which I men-
tioned on p. ]: He wrote for example ‘Let C is not on the surface...’
I asked him to replace ‘let’ with ‘suppose’. But I can’t say that the
grammatical difference between ‘let’ and ‘suppose’ here is important.
After Tolga, Elif presented I.. She started sketching the figure, and she
said something about ‘vertically opposite points’. She had evidently been
confused by the expression, ‘If on either of the two vertically opposite
surfaces two points are taken. . . ’ I jumped up to try to clarify matters
with my own diagram.
Elif worked through Apollonius’s proof that the straight line joining
the points lies within the surface. I asked if the result was obvious. She
∗ I printed this out from http://www.wilbourhall.org/ which has all sorts of old

math texts.


said she had thought it was, but on the other hand the proof was a real
proof.
Ali proved I., that if a cone is cut by a plane through the vertex, the
section is a triangle.
Çağdaş asked, Can’t the section be just a straight line, as when the
cutting plane is tangent to the conic surface?
Ali said, But then the cone would not have been properly cut by the
plane: the cone is supposed to be cut into two pieces.
Ali asked whether the cone could be infinite, or something like that.
I observed that the cone has a base, though the conic surface can be
extended indefinitely, and Yunus would be proving something involving
this fact with I.. (Yunus acknowledged this.)
Somehow I was moved to distinguish the conic surface from the cone
by saying the surface was two-dimensional. Ali asked, What does that
mean? I think he was teasing me, alluding my own tendency to ask the
students what length is. We laughed.
Tuğba proved I., that a plane parallel to the base cuts the cone in a
circle. As she was drawing her figure, I asked whether the proposition
was obvious. She said it was. I got up and drew an extremely oblique
cone (hers was nearly right) and asked, Is the proposition still obvious?
She smiled and said it still was. Nonetheless she did the proof.
One ends up proving DG = GH = GE, where H was chosen arbitrarily
on the section, so that DGE ends up being the diameter of a circle.
Rashad asked whether the ‘last line’ was really necessary; he was referring
to the straight line AHK, used to prove that GH is equal to DG and
GE. I looked to others for an answer. Ali said in effect that if we didn’t
have H, then all we can prove is DG = GE; but this doesn’t establish
that G is the center of a circle.
I suggested that, if we just proved DG = GH, that would be enough
to establish that G is the center of a circle. But again H is a random
point, and E is not random: it is in a straight line with DG. Special
cases do tend to get special treatment: so the term ‘ellipse’ will not cover
the circle, presumably because any curve that is a circle should be called
just that.
There were five minutes left, but Seçil said they weren’t enough for
her to prove I. (which may be the first non-obvious proposition). So we
stopped.
There were just  students present, two who had not come on Friday:

 . Apollonius and Archimedes


Çağdaş and Nur. Çağdaş had the text though; Nur did not. The text is
the Green Lion edition, my copy being perhaps the only one in Ankara,
except the photocopied pages that the students now have. I asked the
library to order a copy, but it isn’t in. I do see however that somebody
other than myself has asked the library to order: ‘Apollonius de Perge,
Coniques : texte grec et arabe, établi, traduit et commenté sous la direc-
tion de Roshdi Rashed; text in Arabic and Greek with French translation
of facing pages; introductions, commentaries, and notes in French.’

.. Saturday, December 


Last night in Apollonius class, I became sad and depressed about the
whole enterprise; but afterwards my belief was restored.
Seçil presented I. of the Conics. She went about constructing the
diagram, but she didn’t explain what was special about points G and K.
When I enquired, she said there was nothing special about them. So she
had missed the whole point, namely that triangle AGK is similar to axial
triangle ABC, but lies ‘subcontariwise’. I let her continue with the proof.
Eventually she asserted that triangles DF G and KF E were similar, and
I pointed out that the missing hypothesis was required for this. I think
it was Cihan or Ali who told Seçil where the hypothesis was in the text.
When Seçil wrote down the equation

rect. DF, F E = sq. F H,

she also wrote the justification supplied by the editors:

Eucl. III., VI. porism, and VI..

This suggested that she didn’t just see why the claim was so. I invited
her to draw the circle in the plane of the blackboard—the circle whose
diameter was DE, to which HF was dropped perpendicularly. She did
this, but positioned F as if it were the center of the circle.
When the proposition was finished, so that, in priniciple, we knew that
an oblique cone had a circular section in two different directions, I asked
Seçil if this was surprising. She said it was.
As I look back at the proposition, I see we didn’t remark on the im-
portance of having the plane of the axial triangle be at right angles to

.. Saturday, December  


the base. In general, students seem to be drawing their cones as if they
were right anyway.
Taner proved I. very confidently, but he seemed to have relied mainly
on the diagrams to tell him what the assertion was. He got it wrong. He
thought the cone was being cut by a plane through the vertex, making
the triangular section AKL; and he thought the base KL was a diameter
of the base of the cone.
Ali questioned how the cone was being cut. Perhaps he had understood
that the cone was ‘really’ being cut so as to make the axial triangle ABC;
or perhaps he was just trying to reconcile Taner’s claims with the text,
and not succeeding. Taner kept insisting that there was only one cutting
plane, making AKL.
Well, AKL can be understood as the result of cutting the cone with
a plane through the vertex. But that’s not how it arises in the text.
I got up and tried to argue this point. Eventually Taner agreed that
he had been confused.
While I was up at the board, I saw that many classmates were not
paying attention.
Besmir was next with I.. He got up, drew a diagram, and started
writing down words without making a sound. What should I do? The
classmates are not Johnnies who will speak up if something isn’t going
right. They may think it is the teacher who should not allow time to
be wasted. Eventually I asked Besmir if he had any teachers who came
to class and wrote silently on the board. He just said he needed to write
everything down before talking about it.
Well, since (I think) he was working from memory, maybe he needed
to concentrate silently. In that case, I would rather he used notes.
By the time Besmir was finished, the usual ten-minute break time was
almost over.
I suppose the Apollonius is harder than I think. Unfortunately I can
recover no memory of the relevant mathematics tutorials at the St John’s.
How did I prepare and present propositions? How did others? I can’t
remember. But I do think that Johnnies were engaged in class in a way
that most of my students now seem not to be. I think Johnnies under-
stand that they are supposed to be reading every proposition themselves.
My students now may study only the propositions that they are supposed
to present.

 . Apollonius and Archimedes


It might be recalled that Johnnies have but one mathematics tutorial
at a time. My students are taking other math classes.
By the time they come to Apollonius, Johnnies have spent some weeks
or months thinking three-dimensionally with Euclid and Ptolemy. Per-
haps my students now have not had so much experience. But Ayşe
pointed out later that they do have such experience, from vector cal-
culus. From our point of view, some students are just lazy. If I were
giving an ordinary lecture class, Ayşe reminded me, most students would
not be very engaged in the class, if they bothered to come to class at
all. They would cram before exams, and that would be it. Why should I
expect things to be different now?
After a late ten-minute break, from which not everybody had returned,
Yunus gave a reasonably accomplished presentation of I.. He answered
somebody’s question (Ali’s, I think) about exactly what was being proved.
I asked whether Apollonius was proving that the conic section, which
‘increases indefinitely,’ also opens indefinitely wide. Yunus said No, and
I guess he’s right; the fact will be a consequence of later propositions.
Mürsel was next with I.. During the break, he had asked me why
Apollonius could say ‘Therefore GED is a straight line.’ I pointed out
the ensuing reference to ‘Eucl. XI.’. Since he didn’t have a copy, I
handed him my volume III of the Dover edition [] of Heath’s Euclid.
Here I recalled the Green Lion remark on the usefulness of a one-volume
edition. I had brought volumes II and III to class; but what if volume I
had been needed? My Green Lion edition was at home.
Anyway, I don’t know why Mürsel was confused, since before the claim
in question, Apollonius says ‘therefore D, E, G are points on the common
section of the planes.’
At the board, Mürsel took a long time. I gave up hope of getting to
I. and the definition of the parabola.
Ahmet presented I. sheepishly, since it seemed so simple. I asked
if he had a modern way to describe the result of the proposition. He
didn’t, but Cihan offered the word ‘convex’. A conic section is convex:
any straight line drawn between two of its points lies entirely inside the
section. I went to the board to suggest that the diagram of the proposition
was perhaps misleading, since points G and H on the section were drawn
on opposite sides of the axial triangle, but they need not have been. I
recalled that Elif had proved the proposition (namely I.) that justified
I.; she agreed with my memory and observation.

.. Saturday, December  


Time was just about up. I already had students signed up for all
propositions through I.; I took more names for the next five. The new
names included the students who hadn’t shown up to the previous class.
I asked the class what they thought of Apollonius. Was it interesting?
Was it just hard? Cihan said it was both. He is one of the better students.
He sits at the front and takes notes from his classmates’ presentations.
I started talking about how there was no point in doing ‘math history’
unless you read original works. Secondary sources will ‘modernize’ the
treatment. If there is really only one mathematics, that may be fine; but
the unity of mathematics is not obvious.
I don’t remember exactly how it all happened, but several of us ended
up sitting around for half an hour after class talking about mathemat-
ics. The active participants besides myself were Ali, Cihan, and Mehmet,
but Elif, Mürsel, and Seçil also stayed around. When the rest of the
class was still there, I said something about how Apollonius was rigor-
ous mathematics, whereas there had been periods, as in the th cen-
tury, when math was not about rigor, but was about deriving equations
with however-tenuous justification. I had just been reading about Euler’s
derivation of the value of the sum
1 1 1 1
+ + + + ···
1 4 9 16
of the reciprocal squares. Because of something he said, I directed a
question at Ali: ‘Do you want to see Euler’s derivation?’ How could he
say no?
I got up to the board, but said class was officially over, so anybody
who had to leave should feel free. Those who stayed around seemed to be
impressed by the derivation of the value of π2 /6 for the sum, though they
agreed that it was not rigorous. I reported the claim that British math-
ematics in this period fell behind continental mathematics precisely be-
cause British mathematicians had an excessive devotion to rigor, which
kept them doing mathematics in the ancient style. I did mathematics
for its rigor, I said; but I had to acknowledge that great advances in
mathematics had been made by people who didn’t share my interest.
Mehmet made a distinction between mathematics and physics: the
mathematician wanted to prove things; the physicist, to discover them.
I think those were the words he used. He’s majoring in physics as well
as mathematics. He talked about physical laws whose mathematicial

 . Apollonius and Archimedes


derivations were not sound. A physicist told him this didn’t matter, since
the laws agreed with nature. But Mehmet wanted a rigorous derivation
of the laws.
I suggested that physics and mathematics had been indistinguishable
for much or least some part of history. Ali said that, in the Renaissance,
there had been one science, and one art, and a person like Da Vinci
could do both.
We carried on for a while, as I said, until nobody seemed to have
more to say. But then Mehmet asked me if there were another edition
of Apollonius he could look at, since he had not been able to make sense
of his proposition, I.. I showed him the Greek text of Heiberg with
facing Latin translation. I said there was Heath’s English version [],
which was not a proper translation; and I explained the origin of the
Taliaferro edition. I had the original Britannica version of Taliaferro
with me, and Mehmet observed that the diagram for I. was completely
different there. I don’t know why Mehmet would have had a problem
with the Green Lion diagram, which is beautiful, albeit anachronistic. I
forgot about the English edition by Rosenfeld, which I had once found
on line. The English needed editing, and there were no diagrams: the
reader was supposed to consult Heiberg for the diagrams. The translator
claimed that, as a mathematician, he could correct the deficiencies of
Taliaferro.∗
Anyway, Mehmet is one of the brightest students I have had; if he
is struggling with Apollonius, I suppose that should tell me something.
I shouldn’t feel disappointed that we are not likely to complete the re-
maining fifty propositions of Book I of the Conics in the remaining seven
hours of class!

.. Friday, January 


There have been four hours of class (three sessions) that I couldn’t report
on. We spent those hours on Propositions – of Book I of Apollonius.
On Tuesday, December , Cihan presented , which introduces the
parabola. Everything was fine, as I recall. Rashad was then supposed
to present , introducing the hyperbola, but he was missing, so I had
∗ It seems Rosenfeld died last year, but his translation is at http://www.math.psu.

edu/katok_s/Apollonius.html.

.. Friday, January  


Tolgay go ahead to , on the ellipse. He admitted there were things he
didn’t understand, but I said we would work them out together.
However, there wasn’t time to finish in the one hour (rather,  min-
utes) that we had. So Tolgay started over on December . He used
colored chalk to distinguish parts of the diagram: a good touch. When
Tolgay was finished, I asked Rashad if he could draw a new figure, but
keep Tolgay’s proof on the board, since it was basically the same as the
one he needed to give. But no, Rashad had to start afresh.
Apollonius and Euclid may repeat statements in the course of a demon-
stration. They do not have the modern technique of writing an equation
(or rather, proportion), displayed by itself on one line, with a number,
so that it can be referred to later by that number. But we today can use
this technique at the blackboard. Indeed, if a proportion is somewhere
on the blackboard, and we want to use it, we can point to it and say ‘By
this we can conclude. . . ’ I think Rashad was one, but not the only one, of
the students whom I tried to convince to use this technique, rather than
rewrite something that hasn’t yet been erased. He still wanted to rewrite.
Such students are at the stage of following an argument of Apollonius step
by step, without seeing it as a whole.
Tolga presented , on the opposite sections, in the manner I have come
to expect: he sounds fairly polished, but he may not really know what is
going on. Afterwards, I tried to emphasize the point of the proposition:
No matter how oblique your cone or rather your ‘opposite surfaces’ are,
no matter whether your cutting plane cuts one surface near the vertex,
and the other far away, you get the same section from either surface.
On December , Mehmet presented , the finding of a second diam-
eter of the ellipse. After his successful conclusion, I admitted that the
proposition was still mysterious to me, although it became unsurprising if
one wrote things out with ‘Cartesian’ coordinates. I had written out my
own rearranged and streamlined argument, but I didn’t take the time to
show the students. (The point is that most of the argument can be written
out as a chain of equal ratios, as in A : B :: C : D :: E : F :: G : H :: . . . )
I said that an ellipse by definition is a certain kind of conic section; by
demonstration, the ordinates of an ellipse have a certain relation to the
abscissas. Proposition  shows that an ellipse has a second diameter,
with respect to which new ordinates have a similar relation to new ab-
scissas. But this does not show that there is a cone that would give us
that second diameter along with the ellipse: showing this would take a

 . Apollonius and Archimedes


lot more time and propositions.
There is a remarkable point in the demonstration where Apollonius
takes the difference between one area, say A, and another area, say B,
although B is not actually a part of A. We know that B is equal to a
part of A; but still, to speak of the difference between two disjoint areas
suggests the idea of an area as something abstracted from a figure.
But I hadn’t yet checked the Greek text. Apollonius doesn’t speak of
‘A minus B’; he says ‘A exceeds B by C.’
Time was up. Unlike December , January  was a holiday, so our
next scheduled class was to be January . However, I stayed home with a
cold that day. It wasn’t a matter of life or death, but I just didn’t feel like
putting in the effort of making my way to the university. In fact, perhaps
staying home didn’t improve my rate of recovery; I still feel worn out by
the cold, though I am in the office getting ready for the last class of the
semester.
I did spend time over the weekend thinking of what might be done
next semester. There are passages of Al-Khwarizmi, Al-Uqlidisi, Thabit
ibn Qurra, and Omar Khayyam that are worth reading, along with Car-
dano, Descartes, Newton, and Lobachevski. Unfortunately, if there is not
enough time, it is the first four, not the last, that should be jettisoned.

.. Friday, January 


The last class of the semester is over.
On Tuesday, December , I got an email from Melis, who was sched-
uled to prove Proposition . She was however writing from her home
in İzmir (Smyrna), whither she had made a snap decision to go. It is
common for students to make the holidays longer than they are officially
scheduled to be.
We did Proposition  on Tuesday, but there was no time for  anyway.
If there had been, I may have proved it myself, more efficiently (in my
view) than Apollonius does. The proposition is to me a rare example
where a proof by contradiction is better than a direct proof.
So today we opened with Melis’s proof of : that an hyperbola has a
conjugate diameter. But Melis didn’t actually give her proof. She went
up with her copy of the Green Lion text and started copying its contents
onto the board. After a while I asked her what she was trying to prove,

.. Friday, January  


since she hadn’t made it clear.
‘I don’t know’ she said.
Another dilemma for Teacher. I could be a disciplinarian and send
Melis to her seat, with a reminder that nobody should write down any-
thing that she herself doesn’t understand and believe. But then I should
have been doing this throughout the semester. In the event, I told Melis
what she was supposed to be proving.
However, when Melis continued copying things down from the text, I
questioned this practice, noting that we all had the text and could read it
for ourselves; she was supposed to be explaining to us, I said. She made
some weak attempt at this, but it was more like explaining to herself.
Near the end, Apollonius makes a leap that the editors justify with a
footnote. Melis ignored the footnote, and Cihan asked why the leap was
justified. I don’t think he was testing Melis; he really wanted to know.
Ali attempted an explanation, and then it appeared that he had missed
the point of the proposition: he thought AK = BL. This is true, but it
is precisely what must be proved.
Melis finished somehow, and then I got up to offer my proof by contra-
diction of the same result, as well as a general comment on the import of
the proposition.
Nur did , a simple but confusing proposition; and Nur indeed was
confused. I went to the board and discussed the situation with her. Actu-
ally I’m not sure how we know that point C exists (under the assumption
that leads to contradiction). I said this.
Ahmet did , and Çağdaş, . Taner was supposed to do , the next
proposition after  that involves actual lengths. But he was absent, so I
proved this, along with . (The last had been unassigned, but I thought
we should finish with this rather than .)
Then, in a semester course on ancient mathematics, I spent half an
hour talking about Archimedes. I gave his rigorous quadrature of the
parabola, then mentioned the non-rigorous version on the Archimedes
Palimpsest discovered in Istanbul by Heiberg a century ago.
Then I had to stop. But before class I had written on the board the
names of the mathematicians I wanted to read next semester. Ali at least
was interested and wanted to know how to get a hold of the texts for a
friend.
In the break, Özge asked about the final exam, and in particular
whether they still had to know the Greek alphabet. I said Yes. She

 . Apollonius and Archimedes


complained that she didn’t want to memorize it again. I said that most
of her classmates had not bothered to do this on the first exam, so I
thought it was fair to ask again; but I said I would re-memorize the Rus-
sian alphabet (which I had learned for one of the two language exams for
my doctorate, though I forgot everything soon after the exam).

.. Friday, January  


Part II.

Spring semester


About the course
This is from the Math  webpage:
This course is a continuation of Math , but that course is not a
prerequisite for this one. Practices will be as in Math :
• attendence is required;
• all students will spend time making presentations at the blackboard;
• there is no ‘textbook’.
This course will make no attempt to fit the catalogue description.
Some phrases in that description are apparently based on chapter titles
in Boyer’s History of Mathematics. But again, this course will not fol-
low a textbook; we shall read original sources (albeit in translation, from
Arabic, Latin, French, . . . ). This approach is slower, but more honest to
the title of the course. Why?
• I accept the conclusion of the philosopher R. G. Collingwood [see
Appendix C] that history is the history of thought. This means, in
particular, that doing history of mathematics means thinking the
mathematical thoughts of past mathematicians.
– This is difficult work, but nobody else can do it for us.
– This work can hardly be done without looking directly at what
these mathematicians actually wrote.
• Second-hand accounts of past mathematics may give a misleading
view, as for example by translating everything into modern alge-
braic terms.
Anybody who is interested can read a conventional ‘history of mathe-
matics’ on their own. But there is no substitute for working together, as
a group, to understand some old piece of original mathematics.
Some students took Math  in hope of learning some history in the
sense of stories. The words ‘history’ and ‘story’ are indeed cognate, com-
ing through French from the Latin historia, which is from the Greek
ἱστορία. However, we know almost nothing about the personal lives of
ancient mathematicians. About more recent mathematicians, more is
known. For example, there is this interesting piece of information:
After his death, Newton’s body was discovered to have had massive
amounts of mercury in it, probably resulting from his alchemical pur-
suits. Mercury poisoning could explain Newton’s eccentricity in late
life.∗
∗ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isaac_Newton, accessed February , 

About the course 


This is irrelevant to the understanding of Newton’s mathematics (though
it might be used as an excuse for not understanding Newton).
Some students in Math  were disappointed in the quality of some
of their classmates’ presentations. However, student presentations are
essential to this course. You don’t really understand something unless you
can stand up and talk about it. Also, in this course, everybody should
have read what is being presented at the blackboard, and everybody
should be prepared to criticize a faulty presentation, or to raise questions.

 . Apollonius and Archimedes


. Al-Khwārizmı̄, Thābit ibn Qurra, Omar
Khayyám

.. Thursday, February 


There were  students in class; three of them were not among the  reg-
istered students. I discussed what is on the webpage.∗ I stated Proposi-
tions  and  of Book II of Euclid’s Elements [] and I drew the diagrams
that prove the propositions. In algebraic notation, the propositions are:

(x + y)(x − y) + y 2 = x2 if y < x,
2 2
(x + y)(y − x) + x = y if x < y.

See Figure .. Written algebraically, the propositions become the ‘same’
if we switch x and y in the second line.

x
x
x−y
x y x−y x y y−x
A C D B A C B D

Figure .. Quadratic equations as in Euclid

But Euclid doesn’t write things this way. I introduced the propositions
by asking:
If a straight line is to be divided in two, where should the point of
division be chosen so as to maximize the area of the rectangle bounded
by the two pieces?
∗ http://metu.edu.tr/~dpierce/Courses/304/


Ali answered (he was one of the best students in last semester’s course):
He said the straight line should be bisected.
Why? I asked. He observed that if the point of division approached
one of the ends of the line, then the rectangle would become small.
This was a reasonable way to think of the problem, I thought. But
then I have a memory of thinking this way as a child: I was playing with
a rubber band, and I wondered if the area enclosed by the band remained
constant through all possible contortions of the band (in a plane). The
answer was obviously No, if one observed that the band could be straight-
ened out so as to enclose nothing.
My maximization question in class on Thursday was one that may come
up in a calculus class. But I don’t think anybody should be impressed
at the ability of calculus to answer the question, since the answer is so
easily found without calculus. Indeed, if you divide the line equally and
unequally, then Euclid’s II. shows by how much the rectangle bounded
by the equal parts exceeds the rectangle bounded by the unequal parts:
it exceeds by the square on the line between the two points of section.
Euclid’s II. is about what happens when the line is divided ‘exter-
nally’. Euclid doesn’t use this language, and I don’t know whether he
thought of it. Me, I am delighted to find that two propositions are just
instances of one idea; but I can only guess whether Euclid sought such
delight. (Presumably he saw that II. and II. were intimately related;
but I don’t know what he thought the relation was.)
Again, Proposition II. is that, if straight line AB is bisected at C, and
D is chosen elsewhere on AB, then
rect. AD, DB + sq. CD = sq. AC.
Proposition II. is about what happens when D is chosen on the extension
of AB beyond B. Then
rect. AD, BD + sq. AC = sq. CD.
These become the same proposition if we use ‘directed’ lines and allow
‘negative’ areas, so that rect. AD, DB is the ‘negative’ of rect. AD, BD.
But I don’t know of any reason to think that Euclid considered this
possibility.
In the remainder of class, I started to state what we would need to know
about conic sections in order to understand Omar Khayyám’s solution of
cubic equations by means of conics.

 . Al-Khwārizmı̄, Thābit ibn Qurra, Omar Khayyám


Specifically, I said that a parabola has an axis and a parameter. Sup-
pose the parameter is AB, and the axis is AD, drawn at right angles. If
C is chosen on the parabola itself, and CD is drawn at right angles to
the axis, then
sq. CD = rect. AB, AD.
An ellipse or an hyperbola has an axis AB and a parameter BC so that,
if D is chosen on the curve, and DE is dropped at right angles to the
axis (or the axis extended, in the case of the hyperbola), then

sq. DE : rect. AE, EB :: BC : AB.

I postponed till another time the definition of proportion. After class


a student (possibly Mehmet Arif Şekercioğlu) asked for clarification of
the definitions of conic sections. I sketched a cone as in Apollonius []
and said that he proved that, if you cut the cone, the sections had the
properties I described. Maybe I’ll say this to the whole class later.
I did intend to be a bit intimidating in the first class, trying to ensure
that only committed students stayed with me beyond Add-Drop Week.

.. Tuesday, February 


Perhaps I shall not have a problem. Twenty-three students showed up—
more than last time, but not many more. (Seven from Thursday did not
return.)
I had told the students on Thursday to read the selections from al-
Khwārizmı̄ and Thābit ibn Qurra (taken from Katz []) that I had put
on the webpage. I said the students should be prepared either to explain
these passages or say why they didn’t make sense. But when I came
to class on Tuesday, it appeared that only one student (Zhala) had ac-
tually printed out the selections. Another student (Oğuzhan) had read
the selections on the computer screen and taken notes; he said he could
expound their contents. Perhaps others had done something similar; but
to find out, I should have had to interrogate them one by one.
Instead of doing that, I gave the book to the nearest student (Dilber)
and asked her to read the first paragraph of al-Khwārizmı̄; we discussed
this, then another student read the next paragraph, and so on.
The first paragraph (after the preface invoking the blessings of the
deity) seems to allude to ‘Arabic’ numerals. That’s what one student

.. Tuesday, February  


said, and I agreed, saying that if we had more time it could be fun to read
Al-Khwārizmı̄’s exposition of the Hindu base-ten numeration system: I
gather this exposition is the reason why we call them Arabic numbers. I
wrote on the board


and asked what one calls these in Turkish; the students said rakam. Then
I wrote
I II III IV V VI . . .

They told me these were Romen rakamlar i. There seemed to be some


awareness that English uses the term ‘Arabic numerals’ for the former;
but in Turkish they are just numerals.
Al-Khwārizmı̄ introduces squares, roots, and numbers. But they are
all numbers. His first example is
Square is equal to five roots of the same.

With student approval, I wrote this as

x2 = 5x.

(Let me just say once for all that when I write such things, I periodically
recall that our authors do not use such language.) Al-Khwārizmı̄ then
concludes
x = 5.
I asked if there was any problem here. Somebody said x = 0 was another
solution; but it seemed to be agreed that this was of no interest.
When al-Khwārizmı̄ got to the more complicated example—
one square, and ten roots of the same, amount to thirty-nine dirhams
[x2 + 10x = 39]

—I had Oğuzhan go to the board and present al-Khwārizmı̄’s cookbook


solution. It is a solution that in my opinion is not self-justifying: it
arrives at the answer 3, and one can check that this is correct, since three
squared plus ten times three is indeed thirty-nine; but one does not know
why this should be correct.
More on this later. The students seemed to understand that al-
Khwārizmı̄’s ‘dirham’ just meant a unit. Ali knew that it had been in

 . Al-Khwārizmı̄, Thābit ibn Qurra, Omar Khayyám


particular a unit of weight. I observed that it was still the monetary unit
of Morocco and that it derived from the Greek δραχμή.
Meanwhile I had Zhala go to the board to write out the solution to
square and twenty-one in numbers are equal to ten roots of the same
square [x2 + 21 = 10x];

Yasemin read out the steps of the solution as necessary. Here two solu-
tions arise. Why?
Well, al-Khwārizmı̄ does go on to give a geometrical justification. For
this, I had Murat go to the board to draw the diagrams, while somebody
else—Salih Kanlıdağ, I think—read out the steps.
Murat’s full name is Murat Yasar Kurt, but he told me likes to be called
MuYaKu (‘like Japanese’ he said). He turned out to have a printout of
the text as well. He was not particularly prepared to draw al-Khwārizmı̄’s
diagram; but he worked it out.
So now we had two solutions of x2 + 21 = 10x on the board: the
‘arithmetic’ solution that Zhala had written, and the geometric one that
MuYaKu had written. Some students agreed with me that the geometric
solution was at the same time a proof that it was a solution. But MuYaKu
said they were both proofs, just done in different styles.
I wrote out the geometric argument more quickly, arriving at the an-
swer 3. What you do is draw a square, then extend one of the sides to
have total length 10 units; see Figure ., left. You complete a rectan-
gle next to the square and on the extension of the side. The rectangle
is supposed to have area 21 units; and this with the square makes 10
‘roots’. Now bisect the line of length 10. This has already been divided
unequally, and the rectangle formed from the two pieces has area 21, as
we said. By Euclid II., the square on 5 exceeds 21 by the square on the
line between the two points of division. So this line is 2 units long, and
the original square has side 3 units long.
I didn’t actually refer to Euclid; we in effect reproved the proposition.
Anyway, 7 is also a solution to the original problem: why didn’t this come
directly out of the geometric argument?
Oğuzhan knew the answer: al-Khwārizmı̄’s drawing assumes that the
midpoint of the line of length 10 lies beyond the side of the original
square. If it lies inside, we get 7. See Figure ., right.
Time was about up. Al-Khwārizmı̄ considers three kinds of problems:
. square and roots equal a number,

.. Tuesday, February  


Figure .. A quadratic equation as in al-Khwārizmı̄

. square and number equal roots,


. square equals roots and number.
As an exercise, I suggested working out geometric solutions to the re-
maining cases, as for example in the following instances:

x2 + 10x = 39,
x2 = 4x + 21.

Probably Al-Kharizmi does this himself in the full text (which I linked
to on the webpage; I didn’t want to use those versions in class though,
because they are full of footnotes explaining things in symbolic terms).
Oğuzhan had indicated that al-Khwārizmı̄ was solving equations

ax2 + bx = c.

I agreed, but observed that he didn’t use unspecified coefficients like a


and b.
I think Thābit ibn Qurra does in effect use general (unspecified) coef-
ficients; but this will be our topic for Thursday’s class.

.. Thursday, February 


Indeed, Thābit ibn Qurra gives a geometric solution to the problem:

māl and roots equal a number.

 . Al-Khwārizmı̄, Thābit ibn Qurra, Omar Khayyám


A note says māl is the Arabic for asset. Indeed I’m embarrassed to recall
only now that Turkish has borrowed the word with this meaning. No
student pointed this out; is that because the point is obvious to them, or
because they didn’t notice it?
In any case, the meaning here is ‘square’, that is, ‘square of the root’.
Thābit ibn Qurra draws a square ABDG (but he calls it ABGC) and
extends it by a rectangle that represents the ‘roots’; the whole rectangle
then is the ‘number’.
Say one of the long side of the large rectangle is AE; this contains B.
Let BE be bisected at W . (So ibn Qurra introduces letters in the order
ABGDEW , at least in translation; was he using Greek letters, including
the digamma? Ali suggested it might be so, though I don’t know if he
knew about the digamma. Would Arabic letters be transliterated thus
too? No student claimed knowledge of these letters.)
By II. of Euclid’s Elements, to which ibn Qurra refers explicitly,

rect. EA, AB + sq. BW = sq. AW.

But rect. EA, AB is the given ‘number’, and BW is half the given number
of roots, so sq. BW is known; hence sq. AW is known; hence AW is
known. The claims about what is ‘known’ allude to Euclid’s Data [],
though only the editor’s footnote makes this explicit. Finally, AW minus
BW is known; but this is the desired root.
So the original equation is soluble in principle. And this claim holds
generally. Thābit ibn Qurra’s alternative to using literal constants in an
equation like
x2 + bx = c
is to make the equation into a picture. We just somehow understand that
one picture can stand for many cases; to suggest otherwise is to suggest
that, even if we know how to solve x2 + bx = c, we are not sure we can
solve x2 + dx = e.
It is worth noting that Thābit ibn Qurra does not actually give a
construction for solving the equation; he just shows that it can be done.
Again with the passage of time, I’ve forgotten who presented the above
solution in class. In the excerpt in the book we’ve been using, Thābit ibn
Qurra goes on to solve the equation
māl and number are equal to roots.

.. Thursday, February  


I decided to skip doing this in class, in order to review conic sections
again, as they would be needed for Omar Khayyám’s solution of cubic
equations next time.

.. Tuesday, March 


I asked if somebody could present Omar Khayyám’s solution (also in
Katz []) of an equation of the form
cube and number are equal to sides.

(So ‘side’ is what we called ‘root’ before.) Several students said they
hadn’t been able to follow the argument. Mehmet volunteered to go to
the board; but first I got Gökçen to read the selections from Khayyám’s
introduction that are included in the text. Some key points:
. Khayyám says you gotta know Euclid’s Elements and Data, along
with the first two books of Apollonius’s Conics; but that’s enough.
. There are four geometric ‘degrees’: (absolute) numbers, sides,
squares, and cubes; you can talk about square-squares, but only
‘metaphorically’.
. Only equations involving numbers, sides and square can be solved
numerically, so far: perhaps somebody in future can do more.
Khayyám’s solution of cubic equations will be geometric.
. The numeric/geometric distinction was recognized by Euclid; why
else would he develop a theory of ratios of magnitudes in Book V,
then an independent theory of ratios of numbers in Book VII?
Mehmet then worked out Khayyám’s solution of the equation above. It
involves a parabola and an hyperbola: their point of intersection deter-
mines the solution. Mehmet rewrote the equation symbolically as

x3 + a = bx.

During the course of things, I asked: Why must the parabola and hyper-
bola intersect? Somebody, I think Fuad, said they need not.
Indeed, Khayyám notes that the curves might be tangent, or meet in
two points. But he doesn’t give conditions for tangency. I suggested this
as an exercise for the students.
It is too bad most of the students were not with me last semester to read
Apollonius. I just told them that Apollonius shows how conics can be

 . Al-Khwārizmı̄, Thābit ibn Qurra, Omar Khayyám


found with given axes and parameters, and this justifies what Khayyám
does. But it’s not a ruler-and-compass construction; indeed, one needs a
third dimension for the cones themselves.
I observed that if x2 + a = bx, then x is half of b plus (or minus)
the square root of the sum of a and the square of half of b. I did this
geometrically, but got confused, so the students helped me out. I asked
how we could construct a square root, and Fuad came to the board to
do this with a circle, though he was a bit hesitant. In any case, there
are algorithms for extracting square roots numerically. (The anthology
of texts has an algorithm for fifth roots, but I skipped it.)
I observed that we didn’t have a way to convert Khayyám’s solution of
the cubic into a similar construction and method of computation.
After the break, I proposed another way to symbolize Khayyám’s work,
a way closer to what he does. Khayyám introduces lines of lengths a and
b; then he in effect solves

x3 + a2 b = a2 x.

He does this by contructing a parabola

x2 = ay,

then a hyperbola
y 2 = x(x − b).
Eliminating y shows that x is as desired. Indeed, from these two equations
we get
a x y
= = ,
x y x−b
a2 x
= ,
x2 x−b
x3 = a2 (x − b),
x3 + a2 b = a2 x.

This derivation follows Khayyám’s verbal description pretty closely, I


think. But I have no intuition for actually coming up with this solution.
Well, that’s what I said in class anyway; but now that I think of it, I see
that the steps of my algebraic derivation are pretty easily reversible.

.. Tuesday, March  


But did Khayyám think this way? I don’t know. I also don’t know
whether Khayyám’s solution is original with him; I think Greek mathe-
maticians knew how to find cube roots with conic sections, anyway. But
again, Khayyám refers explicitly to Euclid and Apollonius; if he were
using additional old work, he might have said so.
In the reading, Khayyám also solves
cube and sides equal squares and number.

I worked through the solution myself (it uses an hyperbola drawn with
respect to given asymptotes, and a circle). Then I took volunteers for
presenting the several sections of our next reading: Chapters I, II, VI, XI,
XXXVII, and XXXIX of Gerolama Cardano’s Ars Magna or De Regulis
Algebraicis.
The book opens with an attribution of the invention of the art of alge-
bra to Muhammad the son of Moses the Arab,—that is, Al-Khwārizmı̄.
It gives a ‘numerical’ solution to cubic equations. Anthologies include
this, but it’s not much fun to read out of context.
At least Struik’s anthology [] has a fairly literal translation. (I don’t
remember what Smith’s [] is like.) The whole of Cardano’s book was
translated by Witmer in  [], but Witmer freely uses modern nota-
tion. This helps one read, but is misleading. The original Latin can be
found on the web: I found it through Wikipedia. Unfortunately this is
the text from a posthumous edition of Cardano’s complete works from
. Unfortunately, as Witmer says, each edition of the Ars Magna kept
the old mistakes and introduced new ones.
Over the weekend I started typing out some sections of the Latin,
with parallel translation: Witmer’s or Struik’s translation, with some
adjustments by me. But this job became too daunting as the amount
I wanted to include grew. So I just gave students copies of sections of
Witmer’s translation, along with the Latin from the pdf file on the web,
in case they want to look at that (and Mehmet D., at least, said he did).

 . Al-Khwārizmı̄, Thābit ibn Qurra, Omar Khayyám


. Cardano

.. Thursday, March 

Ali and Emir presented sections – of Chapter  of Cardano’s Ars


Magna. The two didn’t know each other before signing up for this assign-
ment on Tuesday. I think that, rather than working together, they just
decided to alternate sections. Ali began, talking about sections  and ;
then Emir continued with , and so on.
When Ali started speaking, there was still a bit of chitchat in the room.
I asked him if people were paying attention to him. He didn’t seem too
concerned; but then I shut people up.
During Ali’s and Emir’s presentations, I occasionally went to the board
to make a point. I could see that students were asleep or had blank
expressions. At the end of class I said they all looked like Zombies, and
they laughed.
But then MuYaKu came to me and asked, ‘What exactly did we do
today?’ I said, ‘You should have asked this earlier!’
I thought the reading was fascinating, though on the surface it appears
trivial. Superficially, the reading is a discussion of negative numbers: for
example, 9 has two square roots, namely 3 and −3.
But this is a misleading account, which is unfortunately encouraged by
Witmer’s translation. There is no ‘−3’ for Cardano; there is 3, considered
as minus. Something like that. There is no symbol −3; there is just ‘m̃.3.’
or ‘3. m̃.’ (Possibly the periods are just thrown in by the typesetters. The
tildes are presumably to indicate an abbreviation.)
Later in the book, Cardano will suggest the possibility of taking the
square root of a negative number. Here he ignores this. Hence for example
81 has only two fourth roots, namely 3 and minus-3; but there could be
two more, namely the square roots of minus-9.
To be continued. . .


.. Excursus
By a Johnnie reading the foregoing, I was asked:
Do you have any suggestions [for a seminal text on negative numbers]?

I answer: Texts other than what we read at St John’s are new for me as
well. In his Mathematical Thought from Ancient to Modern Times [],
Kline says,
One of the first algebraists to accept negative numbers was Thomas
Harriot (–), who occasionally placed a negative number by
itself on one side of an equation. But he did not accept negative roots.

What does this mean? Did Harriot actually write equations in the mod-
ern symbolic sense? This seems to be one more example of why a math
history book is not of much value in isolation from the original texts.
In any case, Cardano was dead before Harriot was born, but Cardano
had given some recognition to negative numbers, as I have said.
Kline makes another strange comment earlier in his book (page ):
In arithmetic the Arabs took one step backward. Though they were
familiar with negative numbers and the rules for operating with them,
through the work of the Hindus, they rejected negative numbers.

By the way, leafing through Kline’s book, I notice something that is


apparently wrong. (I find it worthwhile to collect such examples, in case
one of my colleagues in future still wants to teach the history course out
of a modern textbook.) Kline says (p. ),
As for the general cubic, Omar Khayyam believed this could be solved
only geometrically, by using conic sections.

But Khayyam says (in the translation in the Katz book),


But, as for the proof concerning these kinds [of equations], if the subject
of the question is simply a number, neither we nor any of the algebraists
have been able to do it except in the first three degrees: number, thing,
and māl. But perhaps someone else, who will come after us, will know
[how to do] it.

Maybe Khayyam contradicts himself somewhere else on what the future


may hold, but I don’t know why he would.
My correspondent replied:

 . Cardano
Perhaps Klein is right. I believe the case is that the general cubic
cannot be solved by an algorithm when there are  real roots, the so-
called ‘irreducible cubic.’ I have not checked this lately, but if it is so,
then Khayyám may be intending to say that some, not all cubics can be
solved numerically. It is these irreducible cubics, by the way, that Viète
solves geometrically in props - of the Supplementum Geometriae.

I answered this as in §..

.. Thursday, March , again


For Cardano (still) there are three kinds of quadratic equations:
. square and roots equal to a number,
. square and number equal to roots,
. square equal to roots and number.
(‘Root’ here is res ‘thing’, though Witmer doesn’t like the translation
‘thing’; he just uses x, though Struik uses ‘unknown’.)
Type () has one solution (æstimatio, I believe)—that is, one positive
solution. For us there is also a negative solution, but not, apparently, for
Cardano: for him the equation

x2 + 3x = 28 (∗)

has just the solution 4. But the funny thing is, this means for Cardano
that the equation
x4 + 3x2 = 28 (†)
has two solutions, 2 and minus-2: but these are also ‘equal to each other’
for Cardano, rather as in ‘equal and opposite,’ I suppose—and this is a
reason not to write ‘minus-2’ as ‘−2’, since −2 is obviously different from
2.
Cardano doesn’t write out equation (∗), only (†); so this is all Emir
wrote in his presentation. I asked Emir how he knew that (†) had the
solutions 2 and minus-2; in reply, he wrote out (∗) (with t instead of x,
since he let t = x2 ); then he solved it. But he did this by transforming it
into
t2 + 3t − 28 = 0
and then observing 28 = (4)(7) and 3 = 7 − 4, so that the roots are 4
and −7.

.. Thursday, March , again 


I said, ‘So you’re factorizing,’ and Emir agreed. In other words, Emir
was finding what I would have written as

t2 + 3t − 28 = (t + 7)(t − 4).

But he didn’t actually write out the factorization this way; he just wrote
down the 4 and the 7. To write more would have been against his train-
ing to find answers as quickly as possible and fill in the right circle on
the multiple-choice answer form supplied with the national university
entrance exam.
Apparently Emir has not picked up on the geometric solutions we have
worked out, whereby one finds that t is the square root of the sum of
28 and the square of half of 3, minus half of 3. This raises for me the
question of whether to encourage the students more to try to think in
the old-fashioned way.
Cardano works out similar examples with types () and (): Type ()
has either two or no solution, so the corresponding quartic (with x re-
placed with x2 ) has either four or no roots. Type () has one [positive]
solution, so the quartic has two solutions.
How do we know that these solutions exist? Ali observed at some point
that Cardano seemed to be making some sort of continuity assumption.
I said that we had a geometric construction of solutions of quadratic
equations. But Ali seemed to understand ‘geometric’ as ‘physical’: we
could obtain a line segment as the solution, but our measurement of this
segment would yield a rational number, even though the correct solution
might be irrational. Ali mentioned that the Pythagoreans knew about
the irrational, and that this caused a crisis for them; I passed on what I
had learned from Mr Thomas on the J-list, that there was no evidence
of such a crisis.
I also observed that Cardano was going to be using cube roots, even
though there is no ruler-and-compass construction of these. But I asked
whether anybody knew an algorithm for extracting square roots. Nobody
did. My father had once told me that he had learned such an algorithm,
and a couple of years ago I derived an algorithm for myself for some rea-
son, while teaching a number-theory course. One of the Arabic readings
that I skipped in the Katz book concerns extraction of a fifth root. So
I suppose Cardano believed in roots because they could be calculated
(albeit only approximately).

 . Cardano
But Cardano observes further (and Ali presented this part) that if any
number (‘even a thousand’) of odd powers are ‘compared with’ (that
is, equated to) a number, then there will be one ‘true’ solution, but no
‘fictitious’ [negative] solution. This is the most remarkable statement in
the reading. Ali understood its import, but I don’t know if everybody
else did. (As I said, they were zombies at this time of day, this late in
the week. Maybe I should make tea for them, as Ayse and I did one
year when each of us was teaching a Saturday class, to mostly the same
students.) If we have the equation

ax + bx3 + cx5 + dx7 + · · · = N, (‡)

then the left side increases from 0 as x increases from 0; also the left side
grows without bound as x does; ‘therefore,’ for just the right value of x,
the left side will be exactly N .
Perhaps it’s not hard to accept this. There’s a puzzle that goes some-
thing like, If you drive your car at varying speeds 300 miles in 5 hours,
must there be a 60-mile stretch that you cover in exactly one hour? The
answer is supposed to be Yes, because if you let f (x) be the time re-
quired to travel between the x-mile and (x + 60)-mile points, then f (x)
will sometimes be above, sometimes below one hour, so for ‘some’ x it
will be exactly one hour. But this makes an unjustified continuity as-
sumption.
In Mathematical Thought from Ancient to Modern Times [], Kline
writes (p. ):
Perhaps most interesting is the Hindus’ and Arabs’ self- contradictory
concept of mathematics. Both worked freely in arithmetic and algebra
and yet did not concern themselves at all with the notion of proof.

We may just as well refer to Cardano’s ‘self-contradictory concept of


mathematics.’ What is the real proof that (‡) has a solution? Cardano
shows no sign that this is a reasonable question.
Cardano discusses also the signs of the roots of cubic equations. He
states without proof that the equation

x3 + a = bx

has no, two, or three roots, depending on whether two-thirds of b times


the square root of one third of b is less than a, equal to a, or greater than

.. Thursday, March , again 


a. Emir just reported the rule, giving no indication of having thought
about where it came from. Cardano gives no indication of its origins
either. (I should say that Emir was reporting the symbolic formulation
of things, as recorded in Witmer’s footnotes, and not Cardano’s verbal
formulation. This is another reason not to like Witmer’s edition.)
If there are two roots, then one is negative and is ‘twice’ the other
(that is, it is minus-2 times the other). If there are three roots, then one
is negative and the sum of the other two. Witmer has a long footnote
about whether Cardano understood the meaning of this: in the two-root
case, there are ‘really’ three roots, but the two positive roots are identical.
I pointed out to the class that we could understand the situation from
looking back at Khayyam’s geometric solution. He solved this case of
cubic with a parabola and an hyperbola with axes at right angles to
each other. If these curves do not intersect, there is no solution; if they
are tangent, there is one (positive) solution; in the last case, the curves
intersect twice, giving two positive solutions.
Time was up.
As I said, MuYaKu came to me after class, asking what exactly we had
accomplished. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I talked about
Khayyam’s solution, which was still there on the board. MuYaKu said
this wasn’t a solution. I think he meant that we didn’t really ‘have’ the
line that, according to Khayyam, is the solution. I asked him whether
we ‘had’ the square root of 2.
Before MuYaKu talked to me, but after class was over, Ece asked about
what student presentations were supposed to be like. She evidently had
been reading Cardano and had observed all of these unjustified state-
ments; was she supposed to find justifications for them?
Good for her! I said the readings were not the word of God. Not
everything needed presentation; the presenter should decide what was
important. If there were unjustified claims, the presenter should say so.
I went on in this vein, and Ece nodded enthusiastically and said she got
the idea.

.. Excursus, continued


I answered the comment at the end of §.: Should I emphasize that was
referring to the book by Morris Kline, not a book by (for example) Jacob

 . Cardano
Klein []?
The method given by Cardano, applied to

x3 − 15x − 4 = 0,

will I believe give as a solution the sum of the cube roots of 2 + 11i and
2 − 11i, where i2 + 1 = 0. The method doesn’t tell us, however, that these
cube roots are 2 + i and 2 − i, so that 4 is a root of the cubic.
Are you suggesting that,  years before Cardano—who apparently
thought he was publishing the first numerical solution of a cubic—,
Khayyám already knew about such solutions?
Under cubic function, Wikipedia says,
In the th century, the Persian poet-mathematician, Omar Khayyám
(–), made significant progress in the theory of cubic equations.
In an early paper he wrote regarding cubic equations, he discovered that
a cubic equation can have more than one solution, that it cannot be
solved using earlier compass and straightedge constructions, and found
a geometric solution which could be used to get a numerical answer
by consulting trigonometric tables. In his later work, the Treatise on
Demonstration of Problems of Algebra, he wrote a complete classifi-
cation of cubic equations with general geometric solutions found by
means of intersecting conic sections.

The information about Khayyám’s ‘early paper’ seems to be second-hand;


there is no direct reference to such a paper, but to a webpage∗ that also
uses the Khayyám quote that I gave (p. ):
Another achievement in the algebra text is Khayyám’s realisation that
a cubic equation can have more than one solution. He demonstrated
the existence of equations having two solutions, but unfortunately he
does not appear to have found that a cubic can have three solutions.
He did hope that ‘arithmetic solutions’ might be found one day when
he wrote:—
Perhaps someone else who comes after us may find it out in the
case, when there are not only the first three classes of known powers,
namely the number, the thing and the square.

I don’t know how to read this as other than admission that somebody in
future may succeed where Khayyám and others have failed.
Again, Kline said,
∗ http://www-groups.dcs.st-and.ac.uk/~history/Biographies/Khayyam.html

.. Excursus, continued 


Omar Khayyam believed [the cubic] could be solved only geometrically,
by using conic sections. . .

Perhaps he meant to say, Khayyám believed the only geometric solution


was by using conic sections (and not straightedge and compass alone).

.. Tuesday, March 


I wonder if it is a bad idea to read mathematicians like Euclid and New-
ton without reading mathematicians like Cardano. Euclid is a model of
exposition. In reading him, you may not be sure where you are going,
but at least you know how you got where you are. Newton follows this
model, more or less. Cardano does not. And yet, as I just told a student,
Cardano’s work is the direct ancestor of the mathematics being taught
in another course in our department: Galois theory.
Burhan and Fuad presented sections  and  of Chapter VI of Car-
dano’s Ars Magna. This is where Cardano establishes the rule that—said
Burhan—every Turkish student learns today as

(a + b)3 = a3 + 3a2 b + 3ab2 + b3 .

Cardano proves it geometrically, by dividing a line AC at B, drawing


a square on AC, then erecting a cube on this square. The square is
ACEF . Cardano draws a line perpendicular to AC at B and marks on it
BD equal to BC; through D a line is drawn parallel to AC. So the square
is divided into regions DA, DC, DE, and DF , and Cardano considers
what happens when you multiply their sum by the sum of AB and BC.
Burhan worked out the product in detail, as Cardano does. I thought
his classmates would get bored and start chatting amongst themselves;
but they remained mostly quiet. When Burhan was finished, I asked if
he was now more confident in the truth of the identity he had learned
years ago; he said yes.
Again, Cardano writes out the cube of AC in terms of AB, BC, and
the regions DA, DC, DE, and DF . So he gets volumes like AB.DA and
BC.DF , which he observes to be equal to AB 2 .BC, and so on. That is,
he introduces the new letters of the diagram, only to reduce everything
in the end to AB and BC.

 . Cardano
I went to the board and asked: We didn’t Cardano just compute di-
rectly,

(AB + BC)3 = (AB + BC)(AB + BC)2


= (AB + BC)(AB 2 + 2AB.BC + BC 2 )

and so on? I think it was Fuad who said this wasn’t acceptible, because
it was not geometric; it was just symbol manipulation. He had earlier
named ‘distributivity’ as the algebraic rule at work in such an argument.
As Cardano does, Fuad then went to the board to derive the rule that

AB 3 + 3AB.BC 2

exceeds
BC 3 + 3(BC.AB 2 )
by
(AB − BC)3 .
Today we can obtain this by replacing BC with −BC in the earlier
identity. But Fuad gave Cardano’s geometric argument. Cardano takes
G on AC so that AG = BC. Then we know

AB 3 = (AG + GB)3 = AG3 + GB 3 + 3AG.GB 2 + 3GB.AG2 .

Now add 3AB.BC 2 to both sides, and replace AG with BC, getting

AB 3 + 3AB.BC 2
= BC 3 + GB 3 + 3BC.(GB 2 + GB.BC + AB.BC).

One must show that the parenthetical quantity, GB 2 +GB.BC +AB.BC,


is equal to AB 2 . Fuad drew a picture and tried to fit the pieces together
to make the desired square; but he just couldn’t do it. Şule seemed to
explain adequately what to do; it involved orienting one of the rectangles
vertically rather than horizontally; but Fuad couldn’t see it. I tried to
get Şule to go to the board; but Oguzhan was the one who did it.
I thought probably Fuad could see things if he worked by himself; being
at the blackboard can gum up the thought process, as new teachers may
soon learn.

.. Tuesday, March  


Anyway, now we had Cardano’s Corollary . There’s a Corollary ,
which does seem to be, for Cardano, the result of replacing BC with
−BC (that is, minus-BC). Fuad hadn’t really understood what Cardano
was doing; I hadn’t either, except in the way I just said. I don’t really
know what a negative number is for Cardano, if it is anything at all.
When I was reading Cardano early this morning, I thought: Homer
continues to be great poetry; but Cardano does not continue to be great
mathematics. If you want to see where our mathematics comes from, you
must read people like Cardano; but otherwise there is no point.
Unless the point is that important mathematics need not be well writ-
ten. Students of mathematics today should read Euclid as a model for
the logical development of mathematics. But there is a claim that the
best mathematicians do not write like Euclid: they are to busy proving
things to polish their work. Maybe students should be aware of this too.
In class, it was break time. Again MuYaKu came up to ask me some-
thing. This time it was, Why didn’t Cardano just draw the full cube?
I thought somebody had raised this question in class. I suggested that
printing the necessary diagram might have been too much of a challenge.
But spatial intuition itself was probably not a barrier for Cardano. One
thousand, eight hundred years before Cardano, Euclid had had an out-
standing spacial intuition. To show this, I drew on the board the diagram
that Euclid uses in the construction of the dodecahedron.
This was in the break; but then Seray asked if she and her partners
Makbule and Salih (Acar) could make their presentation on Thursday. I
said OK; how could I not? I did have some things to talk about.
Indeed, I started the next hour by talking about my diagram from
Euclid. (For independent reasons, I had spent the weekend studying
‘polytopes’: analogues of polygons and polyhedrons in higher dimensions.
This is why Euclid’s diagram was fresh in mind.)
Seray and her partners will present Cardano’s solution of a cubic equa-
tion. Today then I reviewed Khayyam’s solution. I derived Khayyam’s
solution to
x3 + a2 b = a2 x
in the manner I suggested in my log entry written on March : rewrite
as
x2 x−b
x3 = a2 (x − b), 2
= ;
a x

 . Cardano
now introduce y so that
x y x−b
= = ,
a x y
and find the intersection of the curves given by
x y y x−b
= , = ,
a x x y
that is,

ay = x2 y 2 = x(x − b)

—a parabola and hyperbola, respectively.


As an exercise, I suggested solving all other cubics in this style: for
example, cube and sides equal number—which I solved myself; the curves
are a parabola and circle.
I recalled that MuYaKu doubted that such ‘solutions’ were really so-
lutions. But I repeated something Ali had presented last time. I wrote
it thus: The equation

a1 x + a3 x3 + a5 x5 + · · · + a2n+1 x2n+1 = b

(all numbers positive) definitely has a solution, for Cardano, presumably


because, as x grows from 0 without bound, so does the left hand side.
I drew a graph of this. (I also wrote the word ‘anachronistic’ on the
board, to make sure they knew the word I used to describe my algebraic
treatment; nobody admitted to knowing the word when I said it out
loud.)
But how do we know that the left hand side of the equation passes
through every value? It seems to me that we can be more confident that
Khayyám’s solution of a cubic really does establish the existence of a
solution. I said we could accept that the parabola and the hyperbola in
one of Khayyam’s solutions really did intersect. Actually Ali reminded
me that they might not intersect, in certain cases of the parameters of
the equation.
I ended class about five minutes early. Salih, Seray, and Makbule asked
about the reading they were supposed to present; for example, what about
these numbers  and  in the footnotes? I explained that those

.. Tuesday, March  


were dates of later editions of the Ars Magma. What did ‘binomium’ and
‘apotome’ mean? I tried to give the Euclidean definition first, but I had
only the Green Lion Bones summary [], which doesn’t have definitions;
I forgot however that the terms are defined in Propositions X. and X..
Anyway, I said that, for Cardano apparently, they are expressions like A
plus or minus the square root of B. We had a bit more discussion; for
example, Cardano solves the cubic
x3 + 6x = 20.
One can see that this has the root x = 2. But Cardano’s method (or
perhaps rather Tartaglia’s method) gives the difference of cube roots of a
binomium and an apotome. Are they the same? Salih asked. What is the
use of Cardano’s complicated solution? I observed that one could com-
pute that solution approximately, then show that it must be 2, though I
didn’t think there was an algorithm for general simplification of solutions.
I mentioned the Galois theory course, as I said. I suggested that Salih
and his partners could look up ‘cubic equation’ on Wikipedia for ideas,
if they wanted. Cardano himself is obscure.

.. Thursday, March 


Salih, Seray, and Makbule presented Chapter XI of Cardano: ‘On the
Cube and First Power Equal to a Number’. It’s about cubes, as the
title says; but Cardano’s diagram is of two-dimensional regions. Salih
started class by trying to draw a real cube, divided into sections; but
he couldn’t get it right, so Seray came to do it. Then Salih proceeded
with his demonstration, in which he claimed to show what I shall express
algebraically as:
If u3 − v 3 = 20, and 3uv = 6, and x = u − v, then x3 + 6x = 20.
Cardano’s apparent purpose is to solve the equation x3 + 6x = 20. So
u − v is a solution, except Cardano doesn’t say till later how he gets u
and v. For him they are lines AC and BC, with B lying between A and
C. Salih just said, more or less with Cardano,
let AC 3 − BC 3 = 20, and AC.BC = 2.
How can we just let it be so? I asked. Salih apparently hadn’t considered
this question, because Cardano doesn’t. Well then, Cardano is a bad
expositor; I said this, and the students chuckled.

 . Cardano
Seray took over at the point where Cardano says, ‘Now assume that BC
is negative.’ She went through the calculations that Cardano apparently
does, but she couldn’t say clearly what the point was. I’m not sure what
the point is either. Seray seemed to suggest that Salih did the positive
case, and she the negative.
I think rather that Cardano just has a long-winded way of arguing that
AB 3 + 6AB = 20; assuming BC is negative means subtracting BC from
AC to get AB.
Makbule went to the board to work out Cardano’s ‘rule’ for finding a
numerical solution to x3 + 6x = 20: she went through the stated manip-
ulations of 6 and 20 to obtain the solution
3 √ 3 √
q q
x= 108 + 10 − 108 − 10.

She couldn’t explain why x could be so found. Apparently she hadn’t


actually checked by substitution that this x worked. I think she agreed
with me that this value of x must be equal to 2. But then Seray said it
is approximately equal to 2. She must have misunderstood what I said
to her and Salih at the end of the last class (and reported in my notes
here).
I argued that the equation x3 + 6x = 20 can have only one positive
solution. Since 2 is obviously a solution, and the complicated thing above
is a solution (Ali reported that it really was: he checked it), then they
must be equal.
But then Ece said a cubic equation could have three solutions? Ali said
there were at most three solutions, but some of them might be repeated.
But Ece couldn’t give a reason why there should be  solutions; she had
just heard it somewhere.
Students seemed familiar with the idea of multiple roots. How many
cube roots has 1? I asked. Just one, they said, but it was a multiple
root. I showed this was wrong: x3 − 1 factorizes as
(x − 1)(x2 + x + 1),

and we can solve x2 + x + 1 = 0; the solutions are not x = 1. I try to


stress that this was not the sort of quadratic equation that our writers
had considered, since it has no positive root. However, Zhala knew that
Cardano would be considering square roots of negative numbers in the
next reading (which she and her friends will present).

.. Thursday, March  


Nobody admitted to knowing what Cardano was really doing in his
solution of a cubic. I wrote on the board what I wrote above, but in
more general terms:
If u3 − v 3 = b, and 3uv = a, and x = u − v, then x3 + ax = b.

I checked it by working out the cube of u − v. Meanwhile, I left the class


with the exercise:
If u3 − v 3 = b, and 3uv = a, then what are u and v?

Cardano knows how to find u and v, since his ‘rule’ requires it. But
unless I am missing something, Cardano does not explain to the reader
how his rule can be derived.
The derivation is pretty easy for us now: We get

u6 + u3 v 3 = 6u3 , u6 + 3a3 = 6u3 ,

and the latter equation is quadratic in u3 . But did Cardano know how to
do this? He must have, in some sense. But in Chapter , when he looks
at equations like x4 + 3x2 = 28, which are quadratic in x2 , he doesn’t
give an example that is quadratic in a cube.
Also, Cardano wasn’t the first to solve the cubic. In the preface to his
translation, Witmer writes:
It was [Cardano] who developed the proof that the formula or formulae
that he received from del Ferro and Tartaglia are correct; found the
method for reducing the more complex forms of the cubic. . . to one or
another of the simple forms. . .

I see no suggestion that Cardano could derive the formulas in question.


Some scholarship is needed here, I think.

.. Tuesday, March 


In today’s two-hour class we discussed chapter XXXVII of Cardano’s Ars
Magna, called (in Witmer’s translation) ‘On the Rule for Postulating a
Negative’. Yasemin, Zhala, and Duygu presented the material.
First we waited for Duygu to show up; Zhala called her. I asked the
students why they thought I wanted them to make presentations. Melis
said, ‘To give us experience in lecturing.’ Ece said, ‘To make sure we

 . Cardano
follow the material’ (or something to that effect). I agreed with such
reasons, but said that I also wanted to learn from the students. Again I
pointed out that Cardano’s book was not the Quran or the Bible; it was
just written by some guy, who could make mistakes or be confusing.
Still, Yasemin began her presentation by reciting from memory the
beginning of the chapter:
The rule is threefold, for one either assumes a negative, or seeks a
negative square root, or seeks what is not. . .

I said I hoped she would explain what this all meant.


As I see it, the gist of the chapter is this: There are some problems
whose solutions are normally positive numbers; if you change the param-
eters, the solutions may become negative, but the same general method
of solution works. In other cases, the solutions may involve square roots
of negative numbers; such solutions may not make sense, but they still
work in a ‘formal’ sense. (Note that ‘formal’ here does not refer, as it
could, to the highest level of reality, but to one of the lowest.)
Cardano observes, for example, that the equation

x2 + 4x = 32

has the solution 8, while the related equation

x2 = 4x + 32

has the solution 4; this means the former equation has also the solution
minus-4.
Now, I should think that Cardano would compute the solution to the
first equation as
half of 4 plus the square root of the sum of 32 and the square of half
of 4.

He also knows that a number has two square roots, one being negative;
why does he not then observe that, in the last computation, if the nega-
tive square root is used, one indeed gets minus-4? Why does he instead
convert to the second equation above? Does he think this conversion
makes the solution minus-4 more plausible?
Cardano illustrates with a word problem: Francis’s wife’s dowry is 100
gold pieces more than Francis’s own wealth; and the square of the dowry

.. Tuesday, March  


is 400 more than the square of Francis’s wealth. Cardano doesn’t make
the reasoning explicit, but it follows that Francis must be in debt: his
wealth is ‘minus-x’. Then one gets the equation

x2 + 400 = (100 − x)2 ,

which one solves to find x = 48; so Francis is 48 gold pieces in debt, and
his wife’s dowry is 52.
I had a lot to say about all of this, and the students had comments as
well. Oguzhan asked why Cardano doesn’t just let Francis’s wealth be
x; then we would just find x = −48. Zhala drew a vertical number line,
with Francis’s wealth below 0, and his wife’s dowry above.
I observed: Cardano says at one point that the difference between the
squares is 400 gold pieces (Witmer leaves Cardano’s aurei untranslated).
But the difference is 400 squares of pieces—which however has no physical
meaning that I know of. I suggested that nobody would ever be interested
in the situation of Cardano’s problem.
Finally, in solving the equation above, I woule proceed with something
like

x2 + 400 = 10000 − 200x + x2 ,


200x = 9600,
x = 48.

This is what Yasemin wrote, except that, like Cardano, she wrote the
middle line here as
9600 = 200x.
That’s fine, but in my mind it involves an extra step, either to switch
members of an equation, or to cancel a minus sign. For me, I suppose, an
equation is a spatial entity, with definite left and right sides. For Cardano,
perhaps the left and right are not so distinct, and he can interchange
equations A = B and B = A as easily as he might interchange the two
expressions CD and DC for the same line segment. (Again, Cardano
doesn’t actually have equations in our sense; he just writes in words,
This equals that.)
I told Yasemin she should decide whether Cardano’s next two examples
were worth going through; she decided they weren’t.

 . Cardano
Zhala worked through Cardano’s problem of dividing 10 into two parts
whose product is 40. (This problem is not numbered; it is just the first
illustration of ‘Rule ’.) Cardano says, It can’t be done, but do it anyway;
you get that the parts are
5 plus the square root of minus-15, and 5 minus the square root of
minus-15.

He checks this by performing the multiplication in a box in the text: I


reproduce it as follows, using “ for the ‘Rx’ symbol that Cardano (or his
printers in ) use for a square-root sign.

5. p̃. “ m̃.15
5. m̃. “ m̃.15
25 m̃. m̃.15. quad. est 40.

But he calls this ‘as subtle as it is useless’.


Oguzhan drew my attention to Cardano’s comment,
Yet the nature of AD [a square] is not the same as that of 40 or of AB
[a line]. . .

I don’t know that it sheds any light on square roots of negative numbers.
Cardano does go on to observe that, whereas minus-15 is 5 squared minus
40, one could try taking the sum of 5 squared and 40 instead. This doesn’t
give the right answer. It does however suggest that Cardano may in other
cases guess solutions to problems, and then verify them by substition,
rather than actually deriving them. (I raised this issue in my last log
entry.)
In problem , Cardano proposes to divide 6 into two pieces, the sum
of whose squares is 50. Cardano gets that the pieces are 7 and minus-1.
Zhala worked this out after the break, just following Cardano’s recipe,
which is: Take half of 6, and add or subtract the square root of the
difference of the 25 from the square of half of 6:
6 6 6 6
p̃. “ 25 m̃. sq. , m̃. “ 25 m̃. sq. .
2 2 2 2
Fuad asked why this worked; Zhala didn’t know. I pointed out that the
recipe differs from the recipe for solving a quadratic equation: in the
latter case, under the radical sign, the square of half the number of roots
is always added, never subtracted.

.. Tuesday, March  


I proposed the rule that I thought Cardano was following. Maybe he
gives it earlier in the book, in a part we didn’t read. I drew pictures for
this rule, but algebraically it is:
(a − x)2 + (a + x)2 = 2(a2 + x2 ).
In our problem, a = 6/2, and 6 is divided unequally into pieces a − x and
a + x; the sum of their squares is 50, and therefore
a2 + x2 = 25,
x = “(25 m̃. 9) = 4;
so the pieces are m̃.1 and 7.
Even if Cardano does work out this kind of solution earlier in the book,
maybe it’s better not to read the solution, but rather come up with it on
one’s own. But it took me a long time to find the solution myself.
Cardano’s Rule  seems to be about numbers that involve both nega-
tives and square roots of negatives. Duygu showed that Cardano’s only
example under this rule is simply wrong. Cardano seeks three numbers,
which Duygu labelled I, II, and III. We want then
I II
=
II III
and also further conditions. (I thought it wonderful that Duygu used
Roman numerals as variables.) If I is a square, as x2 , then the conditions
are:
II = x2 − x, III = x2 − x − “(x2 − x).
Cardano asserts that I, II, III are
1 1 1 1
, m̃. , m̃. m̃. “ m̃. .
4 4 4 4
Indeed, Cardano takes the product of I and III, claiming it is
1 1
m̃. p̃. “ ,
16 64
which is 1/16, the square of II; but the product is really
1 1
m̃. p̃. “ m̃. .
16 64

 . Cardano
Either Cardano forgot the minus-sign, or he is confused about its impor-
tance. I remarked that the translator didn’t note a problem, although he
had caught an error earlier on the page.
We had ten minutes left, but Şule wanted to start presenting Chapter
XXXIX, section . She gave a preliminary algebraic result, presented
geometrically, needed for solving quartic equations (equations involving
squares of squares). She didn’t make clear why the result was needed
though, until I questioned her at the end.

.. Thursday, March 


The preliminary result presented by Şule is needed in the form

(x2 + 6)2 + 2(x2 + 6)t + t2 = (x2 + 6 + t)2 .

Before Şule made use of this today, I made assignments for our next
readings, in Viète and Descartes. MuYaKu asked for one of these assign-
ments, though I thought he was going to talk, with Şule, about Cardano;
but he said he hadn’t been able to understand Cardano.
The assigned readings were:
. Chapters I–III of Viète’s Introduction to the Analytic Art [, Ap-
pendix], along with the fifth of the ‘laws of zetetics’ in Ch. V.
. Book I of Descartes’s Geometry [], divided into these sections:
a) pp. –,
b) –,
c) –,
d) –,
e) –.
Şule stated the problem that Cardano takes up: to find three numbers
in proportion whose sum is 10 and the product of the first two of which
is 6. If the middle number is x, then the first is 6/x, and the third is
x3 /6, so

6 x3
+x+ = 10,
x 6
36 + 6x2 + x4 = 60x,
36 + 12x2 + x4 = 6x2 + 60x.

.. Thursday, March  


The left-hand side is now a square, (x2 + 6)2 . This is still a square if we
add 2(x2 + 6)t + t2 as above, getting
(x2 + 6 + t)2 = (2t + 6)x2 + 60x + t2 + 12t. (§)
The right-hand side is now a square if and only if
 60 2
(2t + 6) · (t2 + 12t) = = 900,
2
t3 + 15t2 + 36t = 450. (¶)
Şule did all this, following Witmer’s translation pretty closely (she used
Witmer’s b instead of my t; again, Cardano himself uses no such letters).
Then Şule didn’t know what to do. I pointed out that if (¶) holds, then
we can take square roots in (§), getting
√ 30
x2 + 6 + t = 2t + 6 + √ ,
2t + 6
a quadratic in x.
From Cardano, we had learned to solve cubics only if there was no
term in t2 . I left it as an exercise to eliminate this term from (¶) by
letting t be s minus something.
Ali observed that we could solve quartics now only if there was no x3
term; I left it as another exercise to eliminate such terms, when present.
Again, from the equation
x4 + 12x2 + 36 = 6x2 + 60x,
Cardano derives
t3 + 15t2 + 36t = 450.
He then asserts a general rule, which, as Şule had apparently observed,
was wrong: The coefficient of t2 in the second equation is always five-
fourths the coefficient of 12 in the first. Neither Witmer nor Struik ap-
pears to notice this mistake. It’s hard to see why Cardano would make
the mistake, unless one remembers that Cardano is reasoning with or-
dinary words, not our algebraic symbolism. (He also seems to be less
advanced than Euclid in his concern for proof.) If we do use algebraic
symbolism, then from
x4 + 4ax2 + 4a2 = 2bx2 + 4cx, (‖)

 . Cardano
that is,
(x2 + 2a)2 = 2bx2 + 4cx,
we get

(x2 + 2a + t)2 = 2bx2 + 4cx + 2tx2 + 4at + t2


= (2t + 2b)x2 + 4cx + t2 + 4at,

and we require

2c2 = (2t + 2b)(t2 + 4at)


= 2t3 + (8a + 2b)t2 + 4abt,
t3 + (4a + b)t2 + 4abt = 2c2 . (∗∗)

Cardano seems to have compared (‖) and (∗∗) in a special case and drawn
the wrong conclusion.
After class, Gökçen asked me about higher dimensions. Now, Omar
Khayyám had written,
If the algebraist uses the ‘square-square’ in problems of geometry it is
only metaphorically, not properly, for it is impossible that the ‘square-
square’ be counted as a magnitude. [, p. ]

Why then was Gökçen’s topology class (I think it was topology) talking
about higher dimensions? I talked to her a bit about hypercubes, but
then I had to run for the departmental seminar.

.. Thursday, March  


. Viète and Descartes

.. Tuesday, March 


To today’s class though, I brought a (projection into three dimensions of
a) hypercube, made with my old Ramagon™ pieces. I came early to class
and found Şule and Mehmet Arif Şekercioğlu standing outside. Both of
them were curious about the model I was carrying, but Mehmet was the
one who took it from my hands. It was however Şule who recognized that
the model indeed consisted of two connected cubes (just as a cube itself
consists of two connected squares).
Then Gökçen came. In the classroom I talked more about the model
and higher dimensions in general, pointing out for example that the ver-
tices of the hypercube can be given, in R4 , the  coordinates

(±1, ±1, ±1, ±1),

while the  vertices of usual -dimensional tetrahedron can be given the


coordinates

(1, 0, 0, 0), (0, 1, 0, 0), (0, 0, 1, 0), (0, 0, 0, 1).

Then I gave way to Melis and Ece for their presentation of the Viète
reading.
In fact Ece and Melis had come to my office two hours before class,
saying they had not picked up the reading till yesterday, and it was too
long for two people. I showed them that it wasn’t so long, and I talked
to them about it. I discussed the Greek meanings of ζητητική, ποριστική,
and ῥητική; I think I skipped ἐξηγητική, apparently used as a synonym for
ῥητική. I mentioned that the earlier name of Beyoğlu in Istanbul, namely
Pera (Πέρα), meant ‘beyond,’ that is, beyond the Golden Horn; this word
was apparently related to ποριστική. I pointed out that, according to a
note that wasn’t in their Viète photocopy, the distinction between zetetic
and poristic may have corresponded to the distinction between theorem
and problem that we had discussed in Math . Melis recalled this, but


Ece had not been in that class. In any case, I didn’t claim to understand
just what Viète meant by zetetic, poristic, and exegetic.
Nonetheless, in her presentation, Melis spoke as if she understood the
distinctions between these words. On the board, she made a diagram:
Figure .. She said something about how zetetic involves finding a

zetetic (ζητητική)

analysis poristic (ποριστική)

exegetic (ἐξηγητική)

Figure .. Viète’s analysis of analysis

solution: for example,


x2 + 21 = 10x, (∗)

finding x = 3 or x = −13. But poristic for her seemed to involve a


case where you just see a solution. The exegetic was where the solution
just comes out; Melis here pointed to the ex part of the word. The
presentation had something of the air of B.S.; but then, in the absence
of examples, so does Viète’s presentation.
Melis had begun by writing ‘The Analytic Art’ on the board; I pointed
out that we were reading only the Introduction to this, although I had
asked the library to order the whole thing [].
Finishing with Chapter I, Melis made an obscure reference to Viète’s
vague comment about working not with numbers, but with ‘species’. I
indicated the equation (∗) that she had written, asking whether, accord-
ing to Viète, we were not going to work with such equations. Melis didn’t
have much to say, so I mentioned the footnote referring to the theory that
‘species’ meant letter, as A, B, or C.
Melis proceeded to Chapter II, which lists the ‘stipulations’; Melis
provided the Turkish translation şart. Melis read out the stipulations,
writing out their bracketed symbolic translations in the text. I wondered
what she thought the value of this was, since she wasn’t really trying to
explain anything. She mentioned at the beginning that the first stipula-
tions were Euclid’s Common Notions; she agreed when I said the later

.. Tuesday, March  


stipulations weren’t common notions for Euclid. I suggested that the
common notion
Equals to the same are equal to each other

is a lot different from a claim like Viète’s th stipulation,


if a : b :: c : d, then a : c :: b : d.

Indeed, the latter doesn’t make sense, in Euclid’s terms, if, for example,
a and b are triangles in the same parallels, and c and d are their bases:
In Figure . we have

ABD : BCD :: AB : BC,

but ABD does not even have a ratio to AB,—much less does it have the
same ratio that BCD has to BC. (I noticed that Oğuzhan—who always
sits in front—was writing this down.)

A B C

Figure .. Ratios in triangles

But by Viète’s last stipulations, the proportion

a : b :: c : d

is equivalent to the equation

ad = bc.

I asked what this meant applied to Euclid’s XII.,


Spheres are to one another in the triplicate ratio of their diameters.

 . Viète and Descartes


If the spheres are S and s, and the diameters D and d, then

S : s :: D3 : d3 ;

for Viète then,


Sd3 = sD3 ;
but what does this mean?
Ece presented Chapter III, on the ‘law of homogeneity’. She wrote a
couple of Viète’s statements as equations:
h + h = homog.
h · h = heterog.

She admitted in the break that she wasn’t sure what the first one meant,
and indeed Viète’s statement,
if a magnitude is added to a magnitude, it is homogeneous with it,

has pronouns with uncertain antecedents. But probably Viète means that
two magnitudes cannot be added unless they are homogeneous.
Before the break, Ece had written down Viète’s ‘ladder-rungs’—in
Turkish, merdiven basamakları. As Melis had written down Greek forms,
so Ece wrote down the Latin:
. side (latus) or root (radix ),
. square (quadratum),
. cube (cubus),
. squared square (quadrato-quadratum)
—I think Ece stopped there, fortunately, without trying to write down
Viète’s whole list up to the cubed-cubed-cube. I asked what a squared
square was; Ece didn’t say that my hypercube was one, so I did, while
admitting I had no evidence that Viète thought in such terms.
After the break, Ece continued with the ‘genera of the compared mag-
nitudes’:
. length (longitudo) or breadth (latitudo),
. plane (planum),
. solid (solidum),
. plane-plane (plano-planum)
—again she stopped here, without going up to the solid-solid-solid. I
quizzed her about the word genera, getting her to admit that it was
the plural of genus. I led her to say that homogeneous meant having

.. Tuesday, March  


the same genus; I’m not sure she had fully recognized this. She gave
some examples of ‘conjoined powers’ from the italicized text, which had
apparently been added by an editor. She quoted the given rule about
how many conjoined powers there are at a given rung; but she gave no
sign of having understood it. (I don’t understand it myself.)
During the break, Salih Kanlıdağ—who with MuYaKu would be on
the second team of presenters of Descartes—asked if he could present,
not the coming Thursday, but the one after that, since the Exam would
be next Tuesday, and he had another exam as well.
‘Have you read the Descartes?’ I asked.
He hadn’t; I said I didn’t think it would be a problem to prepare for
Thursday, so he should at least try.
As it was, Mehmet Doğan and Gökçen finished with their assignment
in Descartes. Mehmet made Descartes’s argument that lines could be
multiplied and divided to produce lines. He said that for Descartes,

a : b :: c : d (†)

meant the same thing as


ad = bc.

Hadn’t Viète already said that? I asked. Mehmet claimed that, for Viète,
the proportion and equation were merely equivalent, not identical. But he
also said that the notation in (†) was merely the convention of Descartes;
I said I hadn’t recalled seeing it in Descartes; in the passage in question,
on the first page, Descartes just wrote out the proportion in words.
I said that I had recently published a paper [] of new results that
had been inspired by Descartes’s figure (Figure .), in which AB : BD ::
BC : BE because DE k AC.
Gökçen talked about Descartes’s formulation of what was in effect the
law of homogeneity. She had asked me about this during the break: I
don’t recall exactly what her question was, but I observed that 1 cm2
plus 1 cm was not really 2 of anything in particular; for then it should
also be 100 mm2 plus 10 mm, or 110 of something. Gökçen didn’t repeat
this example in her presentation, but she said you couldn’t take a2 + a
unless you had a designated unit, as b; then you could take a2 + ab.
After class, Oğuzhan asked me about Descartes’s own example: in

 . Viète and Descartes


E

D A B

Figure .. Descartes’s geometric arithmetic

taking the cube root of a2 b2 − b, one should think of this as


a2 b 2
− bu2 ,
u
where u is the unit. Why, Oğuzhan wondered, did Descartes convert
everything to a solid? Why not a plane, say? I think I suggested that he
could have converted to a2 b2 − bu3 , but perhaps he still had a prejudice
against powers higher than 3. But now I see that I missed something:
Descartes wanted to take a cube root, and that’s why he wanted the
radicand to be a solid. If the class were really a discussion, and students
asked their questions to the whole class, rather than to me, perhaps
somebody might have pointed this out.

.. Thursday, March 


Today I asked Oğuzhan about his question from last time, and he said
he had later understood the importance of Descartes’s taking the cube
root. Somebody wanted me to review for the exam. I just mentioned that
we had read al-Khwārizmī, Thābit ibn Qurra, Khayyām, and Cardano;
students should know how to solve problems in their styles. I did make
sure that somebody could do the exercise from §., p. . I quickly
repeated the Khayyām-style solution of
x3 + a2 x = a2 b,
noting the use of the Law of Homogeneity. Then I noted that Cardano’s
method is somewhat neater when applied to
x3 + 3a2 x = 2a2 b,

.. Thursday, March  


since here if we let x = u − v, we get
p
u3 = a2 ( a2 + b2 + b),
p
v 3 = a2 ( a2 + b2 − b)
(I’m not positive I didn’t write u and v instead of u3 and v 3 ).
Salih and MuYaKu made their presentation of pp. – of Descartes,
though now, five days later, I can’t remember just how they divided
this section up. There wasn’t much to say, though Salih did present the
content of footnote  on p.  (which I hadn’t read).
Mehmet Arif Şekercioğlu had stopped by my office, perhaps the previ-
ous day, to ask about his assignment, pp. –, on the locus problems.
He didn’t have a partner; but Mihail, who had joined the class late, had
been absent when I took students for Descartes; so I told Mehmet that he
could work with Mihail. Mehmet was worried, though, that his English
wasn’t good, and Mihail didn’t speak Turkish. I said I thought Mihail
did speak Turkish. (Mihail and his twin brother are from Turkmenistan,
where they attended a Turkish-language school—I recall learning this
when they took a first-year course with me.)
Ece came later to my office, also trying to figure out the reading as-
signed to Mehmet. Of course everybody should read everything, but it
was good to see Ece taking this seriously.
In class then, I stated a proposition derived from Taliaferro’s appendix
to his translation of Apollonius []. Proposition III. has the result,
AF · CG EB 2 AD · DC
= · .
AC 2 BD2 AE · EC
If we draw through the arbitrary point H on the conic section the straight
line parallel to AC meeting AD at Y and DC at Z, and the straight line
parallel to DE meeting AC at X, then, as an exercise, one can show
HX 2 EB 2 DE 2
= 2
· .
HZ · HY BD AE · EC
Thus a conic section is a solution to a three-line locus problem.

.. Tuesday, March 


Class was occupied with an exam. Two hours before the exam, Melis
came to my office to say she had a migraine, but didn’t have a medical

 . Viète and Descartes


report; could she take a make-up? I said we would work something out.
Aside from Melis the two students who have never come to class—Tolga
and Anıl—only Yasemin didn’t come to the exam. So  students took
it.
During the exam, three people asked about the first question:
A straight line is cut into equal and unequal segments. What is the
relationship between the square on the half and the rectangle contained
by the unequal segments?

They didn’t understand what it meant for lines to contain a rectangle.


This was dismaying. But as last semester, so this semester, students
ended up doing better on the exam than I expected. This time I think
their skills at memorizing formulas helped them.

.. Thursday, April 


Mehmet Arif Şekercioğlu and Mihail talked about their few pages of
Descartes (–). In stating the three-line locus problem, Mehmet
seemed to think that the angles to each of the three lines should all be
the same, although they need not be right. I suggested that the angles
could differ, but he didn’t agree. I let it go.
In describing the five-line locus problem, Mehmet suggested that, if the
distances are a, b, c, d, and e, then the fraction abc/de should be a given
constant. I said there should be something else in the denominator, to
satisfy the Law of Homogeneity. I think Şule had already tried to say this,
in Turkish, but Mehmet didn’t seem to get the point. Oğuzhan suggested
that, if we had a unit as Descartes does, then we wouldn’t need to worry
about the Law of Homogeneity.
There were a few minutes left, but Mihail said he needed only a few
minutes. He mentioned Descartes’s claim that, with six to nine lines, the
curve could be found by conic sections. I emphasized that this didn’t
mean the curve was a conic section, only that particular points could be
plotted by means of conic sections. Here I briefly previewed the first part
of Book II, pp. –, which I had asked Ali and Emir to talk about next
week, since no volunteers had been forthcoming.
Duygu, Yasemin, and Zhala were supposed to present the last part of
Book I in the next class. After today’s class though, Duygu and Yasemin
asked to postpone their presentation, because they had an exam coming

.. Thursday, April  


up. Zhala was not around. I don’t think they had read their section
anyway. They seemed to think Ali and Emir could skip ahead to Book
II, with the trio then going back to Book I on Thursday. I pointed out
that we had two hours of class on Tuesday. Eventually I said I would
take their section, if they would be the first to present from Newton.
The exam had asked:
A cube and nine sides are equal to ten. Find the side numerically, as
the difference of the cube roots of a binomium and an apotome, by
Cardano’s method (really Tartaglia’s method); your steps should be
clearly justifiable.

Many students just used Cardano’s formula without justification; I gave


them three out of  points. Ali was one of those students, and he wasn’t
too happy about it. We talked on Friday afternoon (April ), when Ali
seemed to be suggesting that the formula could be understood as obvious.
He said something about sixth powers that I didn’t understnd; but I had
to cut him off in order to go to the algebra seminar.
Ali then sent me an email, with a new-to-me derivation of the formula.
We are solving
x3 + ax = b.
Letting x = u − v, we get

x3 = u3 − v 3 − 3uvx,

so

u3 − v 3 = b, 3uv = a.

This is standard. But then Ali observes:


 3 2  3 2  2  
u + v3 u − v3 b a 3
= + (uv)3 = + ,
2 2 2 3
s 
3 3 3 3 2
u + v u − v b  a 3 b
u3 = + = + + ,
2 2 2 3 2
s 
2
u3 + v 3 u3 − v 3 b  a 3 b
v3 = − = + − ,
2 2 2 3 2

 . Viète and Descartes


so we easily get Cardano’s formula,
vs vs
u   u  
2 2
u3 b  a  3 b u3 b  a 3 b
x= + + − + − .
t t
2 3 2 2 3 2

I wrote him:
So you are giving an alternative method for solving the simultaneous
equations

uv = a/3, u3 − v 3 = b

Instead of finding v = a/3u and substituting in the other equation, you


find u3 + v 3 and then get u3 and v 3 by adding and subtracting.
I don’t know that your alternative is shorter to write down, but it is
more elegant, and by knowing it, one may more easily memorize the
formula for x. Is this your point? (I’m at home and do not have your
paper here.)
Do you think Cardano found the solution by your method? Myself,
I don’t think I have really understood how Cardano thought about
solving equations. When he was just working by himself, did he use
pen and paper? Did he use anything like our modern (Cartesian?)
notation?
In Chapter XI, Cardano solves the equation x3 + ax = b in case a = 6
and b = 20. He spends a long time proving what in our notation is
expressed by:

If u3 − v 3 = b, and uv = a/3,
then (u − v)3 + a(u − v) = b. (∗)

He doesn’t appear to say why we should let u and v be so. He doesn’t


say,
If we let x = u − v, then x3 = u3 − v3 − 3uvx.
But was he thinking of something like this? If so, why would one think
to let x = u − v?
After Cardano establishes his version of (∗), he immediately says, in
effect,
x is the difference of the cube roots of the binomial [(a/3)3 +
(b/2)2 ]1/2 + b/2 and the apotome [(a/3)3 + (b/2)2 ]1/2 − b/2.

.. Thursday, April  


How does he know this? Would we understand this better if we too,
like Cardano aparently, had read Book X of Euclid’s Elements, where
the terms ‘binomial’ and ‘apotome’ are defined and used?
I’m not sure that scholars have considered these questions! The passage
of Cardano appears in both A Source Book in Mathematics by David
Eugene Smith and A Source Book in Mathematics [–] by D.E.
Struik. In footnotes, Smith translates Cardano’s words into modern
notation, but gives no explanation. Struik does provide ‘explanation’
in that he solves u3 − v 3 = b and uv = a/3 by finding v = a/3u
and substituting. He doesn’t address the question of why there is no
indication of such a solution in Cardano. Do you have any ideas?

Ali did write back.

.. Tuesday, March 


I signed people up individually for the first ten lemmas in Newton’s Prin-
cipia. We should talk about the definitions and the axioms somehow, but
I don’t know how.
I talked about the last part of Book I of Descartes, on the n-line locus
problems, using the notes I had prepared some time before. Descartes
goes to excessive length to prove by example that every line in the prob-
lem involves a new distance of the form ax + by + c. I just isolated one
case to serve for all. I could see that most people’s minds were elsewhere.
Indeed, it may be hard to get excited about these locus problems.
Anyway, it was break time.
I had also looked up the quadratrix and the conchoid in [] (the index
is in []), since Descartes mentions them. Ali had actually looked it up
on Wikipedia, but not found a picture. So with the start of the next
hour, I described the curve:
If ABCD is a square as in Figure ., let DC be moved to AB at the
same time that AD moves to AB. The intersection of the two lines in
motion, as E, traces out the quadratrix, DEG. I left it as an exercise
to show:
DEB : AD :: AD : AF.
(Here DEF is a circular arc.) I said this curve allowed the squaring of the
circle; indeed, the word quadratrix translates the Greek ‘tetragonizer’—
that’s how, on the spot, I translated the Greek τετραγωνίζουσα; I hadn’t

 . Viète and Descartes


D C

E
Fb

A G B

Figure .. The quadratrix

looked at the word before. Ali asked about this, so I just wrote it out:
Find a straight line AH such that AH : AD :: AD : AF ; then AH =
DEB, so the triangle with base AH and height AD is equal to the circular
quadrant ABED.
Emir had said at the end of the break that he couldn’t understand
the Descartes. I asked if he had talked to Ali, his supposed partner. He
hadn’t. They started talking right there. But this didn’t do much good.
Actually, Emir started his presentation by writing a table on the board,
listing the three kinds of problems:
() plane,
() solid,
() linear.
I asked what ‘linear’ meant. Ali understood that this meant problems
solved by lines in the sense of curves. Under linear, Emir wrote the
quadratix and some other things. But then Emir just started reading
Descartes out loud. Eventually I stopped him and asked what the point
was. Then Ali stepped in and said some things. He didn’t understand
why Descartes should exclude the quadratrix but not other curves. I
suggested we look at some other curves. Emir agreed to draw Descartes’s
funny contraption on p. . He worked out the equations for the curves
drawn by the contraption.
Meanwhile, I noticed that nobody was paying attention. So when Ali

.. Tuesday, March  


offered to follow Emir, I suggested instead that we just quit. But first
I had words with the students. I said I had hoped to break the model
of education whereby the students face one direction, the teacher an-
other. I said I wanted to learn from the students. Ali said ‘asymmetrical
education’ was the model everywhere in the world.
After everybody else left, Ali, Oğuzhan, and Besmir stayed behind.
I asked if English was a barrier to classroom participation; they said
No. I mentioned my general concern that math students took too many
math courses, and that all students entered not just a university, but a
department, when they couldn’t really have a good idea what they were
getting in for. Oğuzhan is in electrical engineering, actually; he said
that’s what he wanted to do, but he didn’t really know what it meant
before he came to METU.
Besmir just wanted to see his exam paper in my office. We went there
via the library, so I could drop off the Newton printouts for photocopying.
Along the way, Besmir asked about what I had wanted on Problem  of
the exam: the solution of a cubic equation. I said I wanted a self-justifying
solution. For example, if you solve a quadratic equation by the quadratic
formula, this is not strictly self-justifying, although I could accept the
formula as common knowledge. But if one really wanted a self-justifying
solution of a quadratic, one would complete the square.
‘What is completing the square?’ asked Besmir.
I think I eventually got the point across. I also talked about Newton.
That night I wondered whether to cancel the attendence requirement,
offering the students the option of basing their grade solely on exams.

 . Viète and Descartes


. Newton

.. Thursday, April 

I gave up that idea. Burhan came by Thursday morning (I think it was


then) to see his exam paper, and to make sure that his Newton assignment
(Lemma ) was really as short as he thought. I said Yes, but he should
read everything else too.
Ece came by to ask about her assignment, Lemma , which didn’t make
sense to her. I said it wouldn’t make much sense until we read what was
to be done with the lemma. But I also handed her Dana Densmore’s
book [], open to the relevant section, which Ece sat and read.
In class, I got everybody to sit in a rough semicircle, though there had
to be empty desks in the middle; they could not all be pushed aside.
Ali announced that he had found a formula for the quadratrix, and
asked if he could write it down. Of course, I said. I recall that his use of
letters wasn’t so clear, but he did use the tangent function. I suggested
that, for Descartes, only curves given by polynomials were ‘geometrical’,
though I don’t think he has a way of saying this.
Following Descartes, Ali derived an equation for the device on p. 
(or p.  of the French original). But Ali didn’t know why the equation
defined a hyperbola in particular. Apparently he hadn’t read the footnote
on p.  giving Van Schooten’s argument.
I gave my own argument, with an additional line: GM , parallel to DF ,
as in Figure .. Then

M L : KL :: GL : CL :: GA : CB;


F

K
N L

I
B
C

D A
G E

Figure .. Descartes’s construction of an hyperbola

but since DG = EA = N L, we have also GA = DE and hence

F M : DG :: KL : N L :: KL : DG,
F M = KL,
M L = F K,
F K : KL :: DE : CB,
IC : N L :: DE : CB,
IC : EA :: DE : CB,
IC · CB = DE · EA,

which is a condition that C is on a hyperbola with asymptotes F D and


F A. I have just copied the argument from my notes; this is what I did
in class, though I didn’t always stop to follow the steps. Ali seemed to
follow. Still, I claimed this argument was more faithful to the picture.

 . Newton
Descartes gave us a way to just work out formulas without really thinking.
Ece wanted to talk about Newton’s Lemma , since she would be away
the following week like Duygu. (They will be fencing in Balıkesir, it
seems.) She drew a stream of dots approaching another dot. I suggested
that she was just proving that if a limit was approached, then the limit
was reached (or something like that).

.. Tuesday, April 


Today, Mehmet Doğan presented Lemma II; Besmir, III; Oğuzhan, IV;
Şule, V; Burhan, VI; Yasemin, VII.
By the way, Mehmet had a facsimile of one of the old printings, not
the Wikipedia transcription that I put in the library. He didn’t seem to
understand well what was going on. The key to Lemma I, I think, is the
observation that the several rectangles of which the curve forms a sort
of diagonal—these rectangles add up to the tallest of the circumscribed
rectangles. But when questioned, Mehmet first denied that this rectangle
vanished. Oğuzhan went to the board to explain.
Besmir argued out Lemma III orally, but did not make a clear picture;
he just added a line to Mehmet’s diagram, as in Newton. When ques-
tioned by me, Besmir made a picture something in Figure .—mine is
not a faithful reproduction, but the point is that Besmir did not make it
clear where the stacked-up rectangles came from. If he understood, why
didn’t he make it clear in the picture? I got up and drew something like
Figure ..
Oğuzhan wasn’t so clear on Lemma IV either, but then neither is New-
ton. The two figures look the same in the published diagram, when they
probably should be as in Figure .. Oğuzhan seemed to say that the
bases of the figures were divided into proportional segments: If the one
base is partitioned by A0 , A1 , A2 , etc., and the other by B0 , B1 , B2 , etc.,
then
An − An−1
= α, (∗)
Bn − Bn−1
a constant, he said. I drew something like Figure . and wrote that
the ratios AB : A′ B ′ , CD : C ′ D′ , EF : E ′ F ′ , etc., were assumed to be
ultimately the same, and the conclusion was that AGH : A′ G′ H ′ was this
ratio. Oğuzhan said that’s what he meant; he amended (∗) to something

.. Tuesday, April  


Figure .. Unclear quadrature

Figure .. Newton’s quadrature

 . Newton
G
B
D
G′
B′
D′
F
F′

A C E H A′ C′ E′ H′
Figure .. Proportional areas

like
r(An − An−1 )
= α,
r(Bn − Bn−1 )
with r for rectangle. Anyway, Newton’s hypothesis is not that the ratios
AB : A′ B ′ are equal, but that they are ultimately equal; but what can
this mean when a given rectangle doesn’t obviously persist through the
process of adding more rectangles?
We took a break. I think Burhan and Yasemin both asked me questions
about their lemmas. I refrained from scolding them about not having
asked me sooner. Oğuzhan said there was nothing new in the corollary
to Lemma IV, so we proceeded to Şule. She seemed to suggest that
Lemma V followed directly from IV. I drew two similar rectilinear (but
non-convex) figures, saying that Euclid had shown them to be in the
duplicate ratio of their sides; now Newton was saying the same was true
even if there were curving sides. (I didn’t quiz Şule on her understanding
of duplicate ratio. She had written things like |AB| = k|CD| to indicate
ratio.)
I don’t think Burhan got the point of Lemma VI. Perhaps he didn’t
understand the clause,
the arc ACB will contain with the tangent AD an angle equal to a
rectilinear angle.

I tried to get him to draw this absurd situation, but he couldn’t. So I


did it. Meanwhile he had quoted something from Math , Differential

.. Tuesday, April  


Geometry, about curvature. I said we didn’t have that knowledge.
Yasemin’s Lemma VII gave us something to think about. She drew
a diagram, but didn’t write anything else till I asked her to. Then she
wrote (for Corollary ) that AD, DE, BF , F G, AB, and the arc ACB
were ultimately equal (or ‘had the ratio of equality’ as she kept saying,
just parroting Newton). That is, she confused ED for AD (and F G for
GB).
I said I didn’t believe it. She said confidently, ‘It’s hard to believe, but
true!’ I asked for a proof, but this was not forthcoming, just a remark
that Newton was smarter than she (Yasemin) was. I asked if Yasemin’s
text had DE or AD. She checked, then corrected her statement. (Maybe
that’s when she said Newton was smarter than she was.)
Yasemin had drawn Newton’s diagram, but apparently hadn’t really
seen the purpose of points b and d. All of the lines with capital-letter
endpoints are vanishing; how can we talk about the ratios with which
they vanish? I went up to make the argument. I also drew a new line be
parallel to BE. I wrote something like:

Ab = Ad ultimately;
Ab : Ad :: AB : AD now; therefore
AB = AD ultimately.
Similarly, AB = AE.
Thefore ED : AD is ultimately zero.

There was some discussion of this. Oğuzhan didn’t believe it at first. I


had been saying things like ‘ED vanishes more quickly than AD,’ which
he apparently thought meant ED got to zero first. Then he figured it
out. Meanwhile Şule seemed to think Lemma VII followed immediately
from Lemma VI.
It is good that we are getting into propositions that are attractive like
puzzles. Before Lemma VII, I had wondered if we shouldn’t have just
jumped ahead to what Newton labels as Propositions.

.. Thursday, April 


Salih Kanlıdağ presented Lemma VIII. He was as vague as Newton about
what happens to the ‘distant points’ b, d, and r. He seemed to think that,

 . Newton
as B approaches A, so does R; I didn’t think that was necessary.
Makbule had visited my office a few hours before. She had been absent
on Tuesday, because of an exam in another course. She was supposed to
present Lemma IX today, but didn’t know if she could. I told her to work
on it, visiting me if she had questions. She did visit later, and I discussed
the lemma with her. I sketched some figures. She took the paper away
with her. In class, she took that paper to the board with her.
She didn’t draw Newton’s figure right though: she didn’t make B and
b collinear with A. Salih Acar went to the board to straighten things out.
Duygu was away, as she had warned; but she was supposed to present
Lemma X. I figured we could skip it for now, since I was keen to see
how Mihail would do with Lemma XI. He was fine, but neither he nor
anybody else seemed to know about the osculating circle. Many students
had taken Math , Differential Geometry, and they could state that
the ‘radius of curvature’ is the inverse of the curvature; but they didn’t
understand the radius geometrically. I pointed out that Newton’s AJ is
the diameter of the circle of curvature.

.. Tuesday, April 


Duygu showed up, but she thought she was supposed to present Lemma
IX (rather than X). I told her she was wrong. Otherwise, the schedule
was this:
. Proposition I: Salih Acar;
. Corollary I: Seray;
. Corollary II: Zhala;
. Corollary III: Melis;
. Corollary IV: Mehmet.
However, Salih told me at the beginning of class that Seray had been in
a car accident and would not be coming to class. It didn’t sound as if
Seray was seriously hurt. Was Salih prepared to take Seray’s part? No,
he had just found out she wasn’t coming.
Otherwise, everybody presented their part; but all I really remember
(writing eight days later) is that Mehmet said his corollary was immedi-
ate, and I accepted this.
I argued that Corollary II should be true by definition of center of
forces, or by the second law of motion. Indeed, since arcs AB and BC

.. Tuesday, April  


are traversed in equal times, the chords AB and BC can stand for the
average motions between A and B, and B and C, respectively. The
change in the average motions is there represented by cC. Since this
change is effected by forces directed towards S, ultimately cC must point
towards S.
An argument is made in notes by Robert Bart [, pp. –] that I
disputed as a student and still dispute. I offered it to my own students:
Triangles SAB and SBC are ultimately equal (because the corresponding
sectors of the orbit are equal). Therefore triangles SBC and SBc are
ultimately equal. ‘Therefore by Euclid I, ’ [a supposed interpolation,
according to which ‘equal triangles on equal bases and on the same side
are in the same parallels’] Cc is ultimately parallel to SB.
But this is bad mathematics: We could have B, C, and c collinear,
while maintaining the hypothesis that triangles SBC and SBc are ulti-
mately equal. I think the attempt here to fit Newton into the Euclidean
mold is wrong-headed. I told all this to the students, as a warning not
to trust commentators too much.
I also mentioned non-standard analysis [], though I am not sure how
to use it for Newton. Newton just assumes that centripetal force can be
treated as acting discretely. In Abraham Robinson’s terms, I suppose
this amounts to partitioning time into intervals of infinitesimal length.
Since Friday was a holiday, and some students were going away Thurs-
day, and I knew some other teachers cancelled their Thursday classes, I
made my own class that day ‘optional’.

.. Thursday, April 

Three students came to the optional class: Oğuzhan and Besmir on pur-
pose, MuYaKu by accident (he hadn’t come Tuesday, and didn’t know
today’s class was optional). When I asked how they liked Newton, all I
could get was Oğuzhan’s exclamation, ‘Amazing!’ I offered them a pre-
cise definition of ultimate equality of ratios: A is to B ultimately as
C is to D, provided that, for all k and m, we can take the magnitudes
far enough (to their ultimate destination) that, assuming kA 6= mB and
kC 6= mD,
kA < mB ⇐⇒ kC < mD.

 . Newton
.. Tuesday, April 
I asked Duygu finally to present Lemma X, and she said she didn’t know
she was supposed to present it today! But she said she had read it a couple
of times. She agreed to try to go through it anyway at the board, and she
did pretty well. However, where Newton speaks of the ‘spaces’ described
by a body, Duygu thought he was referring to the ‘areas described by
radii’ of Proposition I. But she seemed to understand that Newton is
obtaining distance by (what we call) integrating speed with respect to
time.
Duygu later complained about the difficulty of the translation. I didn’t
keep a copy of the Motte translation that I made available to them, so
I’ve been reading either Donahue [] or Cohen and Whitman [].
Burhan did Proposition II. I think he was confused by the language:
And that force by which the body is turned off from its rectilinear
course, and is made to describe, in equal times, the equal least triangles
SAB, SBG, SCD, &c. about the immovable point S, (by prop. .
book . elem. and law .) acts in the place B, according to the direction
of a line parallel to cC. . . ∗

Burhan talked as if cC is given as parallel to AB, and that the equality


of SBC and SBc follows. I said that the converse was what was to be
proved, and he claimed to understand, but I had trouble being sure.
For ambiguity, compare Euclid’s Elements, Propositions  and , in
Heath’s translation:
In any triangle the greater side subtends the greater angle.
In any triangle the greater angle is subtended by the greater side.

These are two parts of a biconditional; but which part is which?


Oğuzhan presented Proposition , the point of which seems to be that,
in studying the earth–moon system, we can ignore the influence of the
sun. Indeed, somebody—Oğuzhan or Ali, I think—already knew that
Newton’s L could stand for Luna, and T for Terra.
Zhala got started with Proposition . She had earlier visited my office,
so I expected her to be comfortable with proving the main proposition.
But in class she seemed either to consider the proposition obvious, or to
∗ The last line was aC in the Wikisource text, but I have now made the correction.

.. Tuesday, April  


believe that it could be derived from the corollaries. In any case, she
stated the main proposition without any proof that I could recognize,
and then she proceeded to the corollaries. I objected, but soon we ran
out of time.

.. Thursday, April 


We spent the whole time with Zhala’s presentation of Proposition , but
didn’t quite finish. I think she was better prepared to prove the main
theorem. Still she was slow, and her notation was confusing. She would
write things like
f1 ℓ1 2 /r1
∝ 2
f2 ℓ2 /r2
I didn’t notice this at first; later I said she should write = instead of ∝,
or else write

f∝ .
r
She preferred to continue to work explicitly with ratios.
I recall being at the board for Corollary : period is constant if and
only if force varies as the radius, F ∝ R. I asked if this sort of situation
actually happened in nature. I think I managed to elicit the answer that
a spring obeyed such a law of force. I don’t think I recognized this while
reading Newton at St John’s College, by the way; I just thought Newton
was having fun finding different force laws for different orbits. (See his
Proposition .)
When I asked who would like a modern translation of the Principia,
several people raised hands; so I copied the relevant pages from the Co-
hen/Whitman version and put them in the library.

.. Tuesday, May 


I decided to review what Zhala had proved for Proposition . She seemed
happy enough to be relieved of having to say more. In fact she wanted
to cut class because her father was visiting.
Given the circle in Figure ., we have
ult AB 2 ult
F ∝ AC = , AB = arc AB, AD = 2R,
AD

 . Newton
A
B
C

Figure .. Uniform circular motion

and therefore
arc2
F ∝
R
—and this is an absolute statement, not an ‘ultimate’ one. For Cor. ,
since V ∝ arc,
V2
F ∝ .
R
For Cor. , since T ∝ R/V , and F ∝ (V /R)2 ,

R
F ∝ .
T2
The next corollaries are a special case of :
1 1
F ∝ ⇐⇒ T ∝ Rn ⇐⇒ V ∝ n−1 .
R2n−1 R
Şule then proved Proposition  capably, though I complained that what
she wrote on the board did not show the logical connections.
Mehmet Doğan was absent, though he was supposed to present Prop. 
(on a circular orbit with arbitrary center of force); I did it.
Salih Kanlıdağ presented Proposition , on a spiral orbit. He presented
all of the steps, but admitted to not knowing what it meant that the figure

.. Tuesday, May  


was ‘given in shape’. I went to the board and distinguished Newton’s
spiral—our logarithmic spiral—from, say, the spiral of Archimedes. Then
Salih got the point.
Fuat had discussed his assignment, Lemma , with me, and I had
argued that the claim followed from Newton’s Lemma , since the ellipse
was just a circle dilated in one direction. But in class he wasn’t ready to
make an argument. After class I photocopied for him the relevant pages
from the appendix of []. Meanwhile, in class, we went ahead with
Mehmet Şekercioğlu’s presentation of Proposition . He was sometimes
confused, but classmates gave some help. He was supposed to present
also Corollaries  and , but I guess we skipped those. At the end of
class, I made a general comment about how it could be difficult to think
at the board, so people sitting should give help or corrections, as they
had been, and not just wait for me to do it. I also told Mehmet not to
say ‘Newton says,’ since we all can read what he says; the point is to tell
us the truth.

.. Thursday, May 


Working on Proposition , elliptic orbits with center of force at a focus,
Şule visited my office a couple of times. Fortunately I had notes from
working through the proof the night before. There was a mistake in the
Wikipedia text (now corrected by me); also Gv × vP is called GvP there.
Şule needed to be reminded of the relation of points on an ellipse to the
foci; we needed to discuss also how a tangent related to the lines from
the focus.
Şule caught me again as I was on the way to the classroom. But in
class, first Fuat presented Lemma . I was dismayed when he went to the
board with the photocopy I gave him. At elaborate length he reviewed
the definitions of diameter, conjugate diameter, and ordinate given there.
Then he worked through the proof step by step. This means he repeated
the tedium of Densmore’s presentation, which fails to obtain its equation
() immediately from (), but just repeats the proof with different letters.
But the class paid attention (as well as they ever do, at least). I hadn’t
actually read Densmore’s proof, thinking it looked excessively long. But
now I see it’s a nice argument.
There were only  minutes left, and Şule was keen to present Propo-

 . Newton
sition . We stayed a few minutes late so she could finish. She never
quite proved P E = AC, even though I pointed out the gap; perhaps she
was just too excited.
As I was leaving, Ali pointed out that his assignment, Proposition ,
is almost word for word the same as Prop. . I suggested he give the
alternative argument next time. He admitted to not having read it.

.. Tuesday, May 


Ali proved Prop. , using Newton’s main proof; he did not follow my sug-
gestion of presenting the alternative proof. He did use his own notes, not
the text; but he stood directly in front of his writing. When I mentioned
this, suggesting that he should explain better what he was doing, he just
asked the class in an ironic tone: ‘Does anybody need this explained?’
Ece followed with Lemma , but she had missed the whole point: she
had not understood that any point on the parabola could be a vertex. She
proved the lemma for the ‘principal’ vertex only. I proved it in general.
Duygu was fine with Lemma  and Corollary .
Besmir was absent, so he did not present Prop. . Since Mihail was
supposed to do Cor. , I thought he might be able to present the main
proposition. He couldn’t, so I did it. Mihail couldn’t say much about
so-called Corollary , the converse of Propositions –. Indeed, I didn’t
know a proof either, except insofar as Prop.  is a proof.
Fuat, assigned Cor. , was absent. I let Salih Kanlıdağ go ahead with
Prop. . When he needed Prop. , Cor. , I got up to observe that
the result followed from a part of my proof of Prop.  itself that was
already on the board. However, Prop.  is about parabolas, and Cor. 
is about all conic sections. I hadn’t gone back to check that the same
claim followed for the ellipse and hyperbola.
I think Salih skipped Cor.  of Prop. , though it was part of his
assignment.
Mehmet Şekercioğlu said he could do Prop.  if I wanted, but there
were five minutes left. I asked what he preferred, and he refused to give
an opinion. I asked what the class thought, and he observed that they
probably wanted to stop for the day; so we did.
After class, this Mehmet asked me: Why aren’t all orbits in the universe
circular, rather than elliptical? I tried to argue that a circle was a limiting

.. Tuesday, May  


case. I said if we could through a rock fast enough, and there were no air
resistance, we could put the rock into orbit: but a circular orbit would
need just the right speed. But first I drew the wrong picture, the left
one of Fig. .; I had forgotten that the center of force was at a focus. I

b b

Figure .. Various orbits

corrected to the right figure. Oğuzhan was there; I think he recognized


the problem.
But Mehmet Ş. didn’t seem to be satisfied. It bothered him that force
would change as a planet followed its orbit. I tried to suggest that the
force still obeyed one law, the inverse-square law.
Mehmet said everything happened for a reason. I suggested that this
was only his assumption. If you assume everything has a reason, then
you can find a reason; but it may not be a good one.

.. Thursday, May 


It’s the spring festival, and the few students who showed up were happy
to cancel class and go back to the festival. I had just been negociating
with Ece in my office. She is attending Antalya Algebra Days next week
for some reason. Our second exam is on Tuesday, but the conference
starts Wednesday, and Ece wanted to travel Monday night with other
students. I said she could travel Tuesday night with Ayşe and me, but
this was not appealing. She found out that some other METU people
were taking a : bus on Tuesday; could she start the exam earlier than
the others on Tuesday, in order to catch that bus?

 . Newton
I said we would finalize our agreement tomorrow; but meanwhile, we
would see each other in class. Oh, can I go to the Spring Festival now?
Ece asked. I said I didn’t give permission for such things; we would just
have class. Again, as it happened, we didn’t have class, but I did talk
a bit about Newton—about how his work showed that the earth and
the heavens obeyed the same law. I talked about what might be on the
exam: Viète’s Law of Homogeneity; Cartesian-style constructions and
their equations; proofs as in Newton’s first  lemmas;

.. Tuesday, May 

The second exam was last Tuesday, and I cancelled Thursday’s class to
go to Antalya Algebra Days. Today, Duygu in particular asked about
the exam: many students were hoping to graduate, but if the exam were
graded by catalogue, perhaps these students couldn’t graduate. I said
they shouldn’t worry if they came to class and continued to work. In ear-
lier exams, students had often done my problems better then I expected;
this time they did worse. I said I liked the last exam, and the students
should be able to do its problems now; indeed, the analogue of Problem
 for the ellipse or hyperbola might appear on the final exam, I said.
Mehmet Şekercioğlu finally presented Prop.  and its corollary. I
asked where on the orbit the distance of a planet from the center of force
was equal to half the major axis. He didn’t know exactly where, but Ali
came to the board to show it. For the corollary, Mehmet first draw a
concentric circle and ellipse, until he was corrected.
Gökçen presented Prop.  and its corollaries. She had still been work-
ing with the Motte translation printed out from Wikisource, and she had
visited my office, confused. There were a number of mistakes there. I
corrected them on line with her; but it was bad of me not to have been
reading this translation for mistakes all along. In class, Gökçen was con-
fused about Corollary , I don’t know why. I drew a diagram for it on
the board, as in Figure ..
One proposition was left, . I had assigned to Melis, but she was not
in class. Well, there was no time left anyway.

.. Tuesday, May  


b

Figure .. Tangent orbits

.. Thursday, May 


Melis didn’t come again today. I proved Proposition . But the question
of how one determines whether the orbit is an ellipse or an hyperbola was
not fully resolved. Ali and Oğuzhan in particular were active.
But people asked about the final exam. Salih Acar asked for sample
problems: I cited the two exams we have had so far. I admitted I didn’t
know how to ask problems about §§  and  of the Principia, except
insofar as they concern conic sections. I observed that Newton’s ideas
about tangents and about finding areas (illustrated in the second exam)
continued to be important.
That was the last class.

 . Newton
A. Examinations
These are the examination problems given in the course, along with my
solutions and remarks, which I posted on the web after each exam. There
were only two exams in Math ; but at least one student who continued
on to Math  wanted more exams, so there were three in Math .

A.. Friday, November 


Problem A... What is wrong with the following proof that all triangles
are isosceles? [See Figure A..]

A
A
 A
 A
 A
 A
FH  AG
 HH  A
E
  HH A
 
 HH A
B D C
Figure A.. Are all triangles isosceles?

. Let a triangle be given, namely ABC.


. Let BC be bisected at D.
. Let a straight line, DE, be drawn at right angles to BC.
. Let also the straight line AE bisect the angle BAC.
. Let the straight lines BE and CE be drawn.
. BE = CE.
. Let the straight line EF be drawn perpendicular to AB.
. Let the straight line EG be drawn perpendicular to AC.
. AF = AG and EF = EG.
. BF = CG.
. AF + F B = AG + GC.


. AF + F B = AB and AG + GC = AC.
. AB = AC; in particular, ABC is isosceles.

Solution. Step  is not justified. In fact, if AB > AC, then AF +F B =


AB, but AC + GC = AG.

Remark. . The diagram is misleading; but (contrary to what some


people seemed to think) the proof never assumes that AED or BEG or
CEF is a straight line.
. Step  may appear unjustified; however, steps , , and  together
say simply that the bisector of angle BAC and the perpendicular bisector
of BC meet at E. This style of writing can be seen for example in Euclid’s
Proposition I..
. The proof does wrongly assume that E lies within the triangle; but
the proof can easily be adjusted to the case where E lies outside the
triangle. Euclid usually does not bother to consider all possible cases:
we noted this for example in Proposition I.. The real problem is the
assumption that either both F and G lie on the triangle, or both lie
below the triangle.

Problem A... Write English translations of the following words:


(a) θεώρημα, (b) πρόβλημα, (c) ἀνάλυσις, (d) συνθέσις, (e) πολύγωνον,
(f ) τρίγωνον.

Solution. Theorem, problem, analysis, synthesis, polygon, triangle.

Remark. . A transliteration of the words into English (or Latin)


letters would be theorêma, problêma, analysis, synthesis, polygônon,
trigônon, but this is not what was asked.
. The first two words on the list have been discussed in class; these
(along with the next two) are also discussed in some notes that I put on
the web.
. The last two words on the list derive from γωνία angle, which is
apparently related to γόνυ; this word shares its meaning, and an Indo-
European ancestor, with the English knee. (Here is a point where English
spelling is useful; if knee were spelled phonetically, then its relation with
γόνυ could not be seen.)
. As a translation of τρίγωνον, I do find the word trigon in the Oxford
English Dictionary; but the more usual word is of course triangle.

 A. Examinations
Problem A... Write the letters of the Greek alphabet in the standard
order. Write only the capital letters or only the minuscule letters.

Solution. Α Β Γ Δ Ε Ζ Η Θ Ι Κ Λ Μ Ν Ξ Ο Π Ρ Σ Τ Υ Φ Χ Ψ Ω or α
β γ δ ε ζ η θ ι κ λ μ ν ξ ο π ρ ς τ υ φ χ ψ ω.

Problem A... Proclus writes:

Every problem and every theorem that is furnished with all its parts
should contain the following elements:
() an enunciation (πρότασις),
() an exposition (or setting out: ἔκθεσις),
() a specification (or definition of goal: διορισμός),
() a construction (κατασκευή),
() a proof (ἀπόδειξις), and
() a conclusion (συμπέρασμα).

Below is the enunciation (in Heath’s translation) of Proposition I. of


Euclid’s Elements. Supply the remaining parts (in your own words, which
may or may not be Euclid’s).

If in a triangle two angles be equal to one another, the sides which


subtend the equal angles will also be equal to one another.

Solution. . (As above, namely:) If in a triangle two angles be equal


to one another, the sides which subtend the equal angles will also be
equal to one another.
. Let ABC be a triangle in which angles ABC and ACB are equal.
. We shall show that AB = AC.
. On BA, extended if necessary, let BD be cut off equal to CA.
. Then triangle DBC is equal to ACB, and therefore D must coincide
with A. Consequently, BA = CA.
. Thus we have shown that, if in a triangle two angles be equal to one
another, the sides which subtend the equal angles will also be equal to
one another.

Remark. Euclid’s proof is a reductio ad absurdum, that is, a proof by


contradiction. In particular, Euclid first assumes AB 6= AC and then
finds D. In this case, to which of Proclus’s six parts does the hypothesis
AB 6= AC belong? I don’t know whether Proclus considers this question.

A.. Friday, November  


Problem A... Without using Euclid’s method of ‘application’, prove
Proposition I. of the Elements, whose enunciation is,
If two triangles have two sides equal to two sides respectively, and have
also the base equal to the base, they will also have the angles equal
whch are contained by the equal straight lines.

Solution. Suppose ABC and DEF are triangles such that AB = DE,
BC = EF , and AC = DF . We shall show that angles ABC and DEF
are equal. To this end, let AG be dropped perpendicular to BC, extended
if necessary [by I.]. On EF , extended if necessary, cut off EH equal
to BG [by I.]. Erect HK perpendicular to EF [by I.] and equal to
AG [by I. again]. Then EK = AB and angles KEF and ABC are
equal [by I.], and similarly, since HF = GC, we have F K = CA. Hence
EK = ED and F K = F D. Therefore K and D coincide [by I.], and in
particular, angles DEF and ABC are equal.
Now, we have used two propositions [namely I. and ] that Euclid
proves by means of I.. However, alternative proofs are as follows.
If A does not lie on the straight line BC, then by drawing a circle with
center A that cuts the line, we may assume B and C have been chosen
so that AB = AC. Draw an equilateral triangle BCD (on the opposite
side of BC from A) [by I.]. Draw the straight line AD, which cuts BC
at a point E. Then angles BAD and CAD are equal [by I. and ], and
therefore angles AEB and AEC are equal [again by I.], so the latter
angles are right. Therefore AE has been dropped perpendicular to AB.
If A does lie on BC, we may still assume AB = AC. Draw an equilat-
eral triangle BCD and straight line AD. Then angles BAD and CAD
are equal [by I. and ], so they are right. Thus AD has been erected
perpendicular to BC.

Remark. . It is not necessary to name the propositions used.


. Some people argued by contradiction that if (in the notation above)
angle ABC is greater than DEF , then BC must be greater than EF .
This is Proposition I.; but I. relies on I., which in turn relies on
I.. It is not clear to me that there is a way to prove I. without first
proving I..
. One person suggested an interesting argument that I understand
as follows. If angle ABC is greater than DEF , then inside the former
angle, there must be an angle ABG equal to DEF . We may then assume

 A. Examinations
BG = BC = EF . But then GA = F A [by I.], so we have violated
I., which is absurd; therefore ABC = DEF . Now, if this argument is
valid, then what is the point of I.? If straight line AB is greater than
straight line C, why does Euclid not declare that there must be a part of
AB, namely AE, that is equal to C? Why does Euclid feel the need to
construct AE?

Problem A... In triangle ABC, suppose BC is bisected at D, and


straight line AD is drawn. Assuming AB is greater than AC, prove that
angle BAD is less than DAC.

Solution. Extend AD to E so that DE = DA. Then angles DEC and


DAB are equal, and CE = BA [by I.]. But then angle CAE is greater
than CEA [by I.], so CAD > DAB.

Remark. I think the argument just given is the best of several variants
that were found by different people. The argument I had thought origi-
nally of was more complicated: Since angle BDA must be greater than
ADC, inside angle BDA we can construct angle ADE equal to ADC,
with DE = DC. Then BE is parallel to AD [why?], so E lies outside
triangle ABD. Therefore angle BAD is less than EAD; but the latter is
equal to DAC.

A.. Make-up exam


This was given Friday, January , to Rashad and Tolga.

Problem A... What is wrong with the following proof that angles have
no size?—:
. Let an angle K be given [Figure A.].
. Let a rectangle be given, namely ABCD.
. Let angle EDA be equal to K.
. Let DE be made equal to DA.
. Suppose the perpendicular bisectors F H of AB and GH of BE meet
at H.
. Let the straight lines HC, HB, HF , HG, HA, HE, and HD be
drawn.
. HB = HA.
. HB = HE.

A.. Make-up exam 


B F A
K
G E

C D

H
Figure A.. Have angles no size?

. HA = HE.
. Triangles HAD and HED are equal in all respects.
. In particular, angle HDA is equal to HDE.∗
. Angle EDA has no size.
. Therefore K has no size.
Problem A... Write English translations of the following words:
(a) γραμμή, (b) κύκλος, (c) κέντρον, (d) τρίγωνον, (e) περιφέρεια,
(f ) γεωμετρία.

Problem A... What are five postulates of Euclid’s Elements?


Problem A... Proclus writes:
Every problem and every theorem that is furnished with all its parts
should contain the following elements:
() an enunciation (πρότασις),
() an exposition (or setting out: ἔκθεσις),
() a specification (or definition of goal: διορισμός),
() a construction (κατασκευή),
() a proof (ἀπόδειξις), and
() a conclusion (συμπέρασμα).

Below is the enunciation (in Heath’s translation) of Proposition I. of


Euclid’s Elements. Supply the remaining parts (in your own words, which
may or may not be Euclid’s).
Given two straight lines constructed on a straight line [from its ex-
tremities] and meeting in a point, there cannot be constructed on the
∗ The exam had HDA for HDE here. This went unnoticed till April , .

 A. Examinations
same straight line [from its extremities], and on the same side of it, two
other straight lines meeting in another point and equal to the former
two respectively, namely each to that which has the same extremity
with it.

Problem A... From I., by the method of ‘application’, Euclid proves


I., whose enunciation is:

If two triangles have two sides equal to two sides respectively, and have
also the base equal to the base, they will also have the angles equal
which are contained by the equal straighte lines.

Assuming this proposition, but without using the method of ‘application’,


prove the following (which is part of the enunciation of I.):

If two triangles have two sides equal to two sides respectively, and have
the angles contained by the equal straight lines equal, they will also
have the base equal to the base.

Problem A... In a triangle ABC, suppose D is chosen on side AB,


and E is chosen on AC, so that DE is parallel to BC. Suppose straight
line DF is drawn parallel to AC, and CF is drawn parallel to AB, and
DF and CF meet at F . Similarly, suppose BG is drawn parallel to AC,
and EG is drawn parallel to AB, and BG and EG meet at G. Let straight
line GF be drawn.
Prove that GF is parallel to BC. You may use only propositions from
Book I of the Elements.

A.. Tuesday, January 


Problem A... In the th century b.c.e., the colony of Cumae (Κύμη)
was founded, near what is now Naples, by settlers from Euboea (Eğriboz),
and also from Cyme (Κύμη) in western Anatolia near what is now Aliağa
[, ]. From the Greek alphabet as used in Cumae, the Latin alphabet
was ultimately derived; this came to have  letters:

A B C D E F G H I K L M N O P Q R S T V X Y Z.

In the year  c.e., a monk from Salonica named Cyril invented the so-
called Glagolitic alphabet in order to translate holy scripture from Greek
into Old Bulgarian. Soon after that, the simpler Cyrillic alphabet was

A.. Tuesday, January  


invented [].∗ After some changes (such as the abolition of a few letters
by the Soviet government in ), the Cyrillic alphabet became the -
letter Russian alphabet of today:

A B V G D E   Z I  K L M N O P
R S T U F H C Q X W _ Y ^   .
This alphabet retains  of the  letters of the Greek alphabet, in their
original order, though not always in the original form. What are the 
letters of the Greek alphabet?

Solution. Α Β Γ Δ Ε Ζ Η Θ Ι Κ Λ Μ Ν Ξ Ο Π Ρ Σ Τ Υ Φ Χ Ψ Ω, or
α β γ δ ε ζ η θ ι κ λ μ ν ξ ο π ρ ς τ υ φ χ ψ ω.

Remark. Most people seem to have learned the alphabet for this exam. If
this had been so on the first exam, I may not have asked for the alphabet
on this exam.

Problem A... Does a square have a ratio to its side? Explain.

Solution. No, since no multiple of the side can exceed the square.

Remark. This problem alludes to Definition  of Book V of the Elements:

Magnitudes are said to have a ratio to one another which are capable,
when multiplied, of exceeding one another.

Euclid does not seem to refer to this definition later; but (as we discussed
in class) he uses the definition implicitly, in Proposition V. for example,
where there is an unstated assumption that A and C have a ratio, and
(therefore) B and D have a ratio. In his ‘quadrature of the parabola,’
discussed on the last day of class, Archimedes assumes that, if two areas
are unequal, then their difference has a ratio (in the sense of Euclid) to
either of the areas.

Problem A... Suppose a magnitude A has a ratio to a magnitude B,


and a magnitude C has a ratio to a magnitude D. What does it mean
to say that A has the same ratio to B that C has to D (according to
Definition  of Book V of Euclid’s Elements)?
∗ Many alphabets can be seen in [].

 A. Examinations
Solution. If equimultiples mA and mC of A and C be taken, and other
equimultiples nB and nD of B and D be taken, then

mA > nB if and only if mC > nD,


mA = nB if and only if mC = nD,
mA < nB if and only if mC < nD.

Remark. The definition of ratio is perhaps the most important sentence


in Euclid. Euclid of course does not use special notation for a multiple
of a magnitude.

Problem A... Suppose a straight line AB is bisected at C, and an-


other point, D, is chosen on AB. What is the relation between the squares
on AC and CD and the rectangle contained by AD and DB?

Solution. AC 2 = CD2 + AD.DB [by Euclid’s II.].

Problem A... In the diagram [Figure A.], BAC is the diameter of


a circle, A is the center, and AD is at right angles to BC. Straight line

A
B C

F
E
D

Figure A.. The swing of a pendulum

DC is drawn. From a point E on the circumference between B and D,


the straight line EF is drawn at right angles to AD, and EA and ED
are drawn. Show that the square on DE has the same ratio to the square
on DC that the straight line DF has to DA. ( Suggestion: express DE 2
and DC 2 in terms of DF , F A, and DA.)

A.. Tuesday, January  


Solution. Just compute: DC 2 = 2DA2 , while

DE 2 = DF 2 + F E 2 = DF 2 + EA2 − F A2
= DF 2 + DA2 − F A2
= 2DF 2 + 2DF.F A = 2DF.DA,

so DE 2 : DC 2 :: 2DF.DA : 2DA.DA :: DF : DA.


Remark. The equation DA2 + DF 2 = 2DF.DA + F A2 happens to be the
symbolic expression of Euclid’s Proposition II.. I obtained this problem
from Isaac Newton, who writes in the Principia, in the scholium after
the Laws of Motion:
It is a proposition very well known to geometers that the velocity of
a pendulum at the lowest point is as the chord of the arc which it
describes in falling.

Problem A... In the diagram [Figure A.], ABC is an axial triangle


of a cone whose base is the circle CDEBF G, and DKG and EM F
are at right angles to BC. Planes through DKG and EM F cut the

L
C
D
E
K
M G
F
B

Figure A.. Two parabolas in a cone

 A. Examinations
cone, making sections DHG and ELF , with diameters HK and LM ,
respectively; and these diameters are parallel to AC. The parameters
(the ‘upright sides’ or latera recta) of the sections are not shown; but
let them be HN and LP . What is the ratio of HN to LP (in terms of
straight lines that are shown in the diagram)?
Solution. Since HN : HA :: BC 2 : BA.AC and LP : LA :: BC 2 :
BA.AC [by I. of Apollonius], we have HN : HA :: LP : LA, and
alternately
HN : LP :: HA : LA.
Remark. One may alternatively observe that DK 2 = HN.HK, but also
DK 2 = BK.KC, and similarly for EM . Hence

DK 2 : EM 2 :: HN : LP & HK : LM, (∗)

but also

DK 2 : EM 2 :: BK : BM & KC : M C
:: HK : LM & HA : LA,

and therefore HN : LP :: HA : LA. Now, from (∗), one might write

HN : LP :: DK 2 : EM 2 & LM : HK
:: DK 2 .LM : EM 2 .HK;

but this isn’t the best answer. A better answer is HN : LP :: CK : CM ,


but this still refers to the particular choice of base for the cone, when the
parabolas themselves do not depend on this choice.
Problem A... We know that an ellipse or an hyperbola has two ‘con-
jugate’ diameters, each diameter being situated ordinatewise with respect
to the other. A parabola cannot have conjugate diameters in this sense.
Nonetheless, suppose, in the diagram [Figure A.], AB is the diameter of
a parabola, and AC is drawn ordinatewise, and AC is also the diameter
of another parabola, and AB is situated ordinatewise with respect to AC.
Suppose the two parabolas meet at D (as well as at A). Let the respective
ordinates DB and DC be dropped. Finally, suppose the parabola with di-
ameter AB has parameter E (not shown), and the parabola with diameter
AC has parameter F .

A.. Tuesday, January  


C D

A B

Figure A.. Two intersecting parabolas

Show that

E : AC :: AC : AB, AC : AB :: AB : F.

( Remark. It follows then that E is to F as the cube on AC is to the cube


on AB. In particular, if E is twice F , then the cube on AC is double the
cube on AB. According to Eutocius in his Commentary on Archimedes’s
Sphere and Cylinder, Menaechmus discovered this method of ‘duplicating’
the cube, along with another method involving a parabola and a hyperbola.
This work is the earliest known use of conic sections. For Menaechmus
however, the angle BAC would have been right.)

Solution. Since AB.E = BD2 = AC 2 , we have E : AC :: AC : AB; the


other proportion is similar.

Problem A... In the triangle ABC shown [Figure A.], F G is parallel


to DC, and DE is parallel to AG. Show that AC is parallel to F E.
(You may use the theory of proportion developed in Books V and VI of
the Elements. In that case, you will probably want to use alternation:
if A : B :: C : D, then A : C :: B : D. You may use also that if
A : B :: E : F and B : C :: D : E, then A : C :: D : F . Alternatively, it is
possible to avoid the theory of proportion by showing, as a lemma, that,
in the diagram, F E is parallel to AC if and only if the parallelogram
bounded by BF and BC, in the angle B, is equal to the parallelogram
bounded by BE and BA. Or maybe you can find another method. In
modern terms, this problem can be set in a two-dimensional vector-space;
but if the scalar field of that space is non-commutative, then the claim is
false.)

 A. Examinations
B

F E
G

A C
Figure A.. Parallels in a triangle

Solution. Because of the parallels, we have

BF : BD :: BG : BC, BD : BA :: BE : BG;

therefore [by the suggested result, which is V. of Euclid] BF : BA ::


BE : BC, which yields the parallelism of F E and AC.

Remark. I learned this short proof from some students’ papers. I had
previously found a longer argument, which did use alternation.
Really, Euclid’s VI. gives us only (for example) DF : F B :: CG : GB;
this is equivalent to DB : F B :: CB : GB by V. and .
As noted, we don’t really need to use proportions, just that, in the
diagram here [Figure A.], the parallelograms ABEG and BCKF are
equal (by cutting and pasting) if and only if F E is parallel to AC. Let’s
use BA.BE and BF.BC to denote these parallelograms respectively. In
the problem then, we have BF.BC = BG.BD = BA.BE, so AE k BE.
This problem is inspired by Descartes, who, in his Geometry, observes
that, if (in the original diagram) BF is a unit length, and BG = a,
while BD = b, then we can define the product ba as (the length of) BC.
Descartes does not show that the multiplication so defined is commuta-
tive. But it is commutative, by this problem. Indeed, if BE = BF , then
BA = ab, but also BA = BC, so ab = ba.
However, if you know about the skew-field H of quaternions, then sup-
pose the diagram sits in the vector-space H2 as shown below [Figure A.].
Then the assumptions of parallelism in the problem hold here, since for

A.. Tuesday, January  


B

F E

A C

G K

Figure A.. Parallelograms

example (0, ij) − (i, 0) is a scalar multiple of (0, j) − (1, 0). However,
(0, ij) − (ji, 0) = ij(−1, 1), which is not a scalar multiple of (0, 1) − (1, 0).
Bonus. How can this exam and this course be improved? (Responses may
be submitted also by email in the next few days: dpierce@ metu. edu. tr .
Meanwhile, iyi çalışmalar; ondan sonra, iyi tatiller!)

A.. Tuesday, March 


You may use modern notation in your work; but Problems A.. and A..
should involve diagrams.
Problem A... A straight line is cut into equal and unequal segments.
What is the relationship between the square on the half and the rectangle
contained by the unequal segments?
Solution. The square exceeds the rectangle by the square on the straight
line between the points of section.
Remark. This problem is based on Proposition II. of Euclid’s Elements.
The language follows the style of Heath’s translation of Euclid (on the
course webpage).
Problem A... A square is equal to three roots and twenty-eight
dirhams. What is the root? Give a geometrical justification of your an-
swer (as Muh.ammad ibn Mūsā al-Khwārizmı̄ or Thābit ibn Qurra did).

 A. Examinations
(0, 0)

(1, 0) (0, 1)
(0, j)

(i, 0)

(ji, 0) (0, ij)

Figure A.. Parallels in a triangle again

Solution. In Figure A., the root is AB; AC = 3; and D bisects AC.


Then
 2
2 2 3 121
DB = 28 + DC = 28 + = ,
2 4
11
DB = ,
2
3 11
AB = AD + DB = + = 7;
2 2
so the root is 7.
A D C B

28

Figure A.. Analysis of a square

Remark. Euclid’s Proposition II. is behind this problem.

A.. Tuesday, March  


Problem A... Suppose a cube and nine sides are equal to ten.
Find the side by taking the intersection of two conic sections (as Omar
Khayyām did). It is preferable if one of those sections is a circle.

Solution. [Analysis:]
x3 + 9x = 10,
x3 = 10 − 9x,
x2 10/9 − x
= , (†)
9 x
x y 10/9 − x
= = , (‡)
3 x y
 
2 2 10
x = 3y & y = x −x .
9

[Synthesis:] As in Figure A., let ABC be a semicircle with diameter

D C

A E B
Figure A.. Circle and parabola

10/9, and let AD, perpendicular to AB, be the axis of a parabola with
parameter 3. The semicircle and parabola intersect at a point C (as well
as at A). Let CE be dropped perpendicular to AB; and CD, to AD.
Then AE = CD; either of these is the desired “side”. Indeed,

CD2 = 3AD,
CD : 3 :: AD : CD :: EC : AE :: EB : EC,
 
10
AE 2 : 9 :: CD2 : 9 :: EB : AE :: − AE : AE,
9
AE 3 = 10 − 9AE,
AE 3 + 9AE = 10.

 A. Examinations
Remark. (i). In the solution, analysis and synthesis are used in the
sense attributed to Theon (presumably Theon of Smyrna, that is, İzmir)
by Viète at the beginning of Chapter  of the Introduction to the Analytic
Art. In his solutions of cubic equations, Omar Khayyām gives only the
synthesis; we can only speculate whether he had some sort of analysis
like ours.
(ii). In our analysis, equations (†) and (‡) could have been

10 − 9x
x2 = ,
x
y 10 − 9x
x= = ,
x y

yielding the parabola given by y = x2 and the ellipse given by y 2 =


x(10 − 9x). This is why the problem says, “It is preferable if one of those
sections is a circle.”
(iii). I think it is better to understand the circle through the equation
y 2 = x(10/9 − x) than to convert this equation to the more usual modern
form,
 2  2
2 5 5
y + x− = .
9 9

Problem A... Again, a cube and nine sides are equal to ten.
. Find the side numerically, as the difference of the cube roots of a
binomium and an apotome, by Cardano’s method (really Tartaglia’s
method); your steps should be clearly justifiable.
. The side is in fact a whole number; which one?

Solution. . We have to solve x3 + 9x = 10. We let x = u − v, so

x3 = u3 − v 3 − 3uv(u − v) = u3 − v 3 − 3uvx.

So we let

u3 − v 3 = 10, uv = 3,

A.. Tuesday, March  


which we can solve:
u6 − u3 v 3 = 10u3 ,
u6 − 27 = 10u3 ,
p √
u3 = 52 + 27 + 5 = 2 13 + 5,
33 √
v3 = √ = 2 13 − 5.
2 13 + 5
Therefore
√ √
q q
3 3
x = 2 13 + 5 − 2 13 − 5.
. x = 1.
Remark. (i). Cardano does give a formula for finding x, without clear
explanation. However, this problem said “steps should be clearly justifi-
able”; so for full credit, the answer should be derived, as above, not just
obtained from a memorized formula. Some people who tried to memorize,
remembered wrongly.
(ii). Of course, the solution above did rely on the (memorized)
quadratic formula. Memory does have its uses.√
(iii). Note here that u3 could have been −2 13 + 5; but x in the end
would have been the same. Two other values of x can be obtained by
considering complex cube roots; but Cardano does not know about these.
Problem A... A square-square, twelve squares, and thirty-six are
equal to seventy-two sides. In finding the side by Cardano’s method (re-
ally Ferrari’s method), you first solve a cubic equation.
. Obtain that cubic equation.
. Convert that cubic equation to an equation of the form “cube equal
to roots and number”.
. The cubic equation in () should have 6 as a root. Use this to find
the side in the original fourth-degree equation.
Solution. . x4 + 12x2 + 36 = 72x,
(x2 + 6)2 = 72x,
(x2 + 6 + t)2 = 2tx2 + 72x + t2 + 12t,
2t(t2 + 12t) = 362 = 24 34 ,
t3 + 12t2 = 23 34 = 648.

 A. Examinations
. Let t = s − 4; then
s3 − 48s + 12 · 16 − 64 = 23 34 ,
s3 − 48s = 23 34 + 26 − 26 3 = 23 (34 − 24 ) = 8 · 65 = 520.
. (x2 + 12)2 = 12x2 + 72x + 108,
= 12(x2 + 6x + 9)
= 12(x + 3)2 ,

x2 + 12 = 2 3(x + 3),
√ √
x2 = 2 3 − 6(2 − 3),
√ √ √ √
q q
x = 3 + 3 − 6(2 − 3) = 3 + 6 3 − 9.
Remark. If we believe in negative numbers,
√ then from (x2 +12)2 = 12(x+
3)2 we should obtain x2 + 12 = ±2 3(x + 3); but the negative sign here
leads to a negative value of x. The problem asks for the “side”, which is
implicitly positive.

A.. Tuesday, May 


Problem A... The ellipse AEB [Figure A.] is determined as fol-
lows. Triangle ABC is given, the angle at A being right. If a point D is
chosen at random on AB, and DE is erected at right angles to AB, then
E lies on the ellipse if (and only if ) the square on DE is equal to the
rectangle ADF G (which is formed by letting ED, extended as necessary,
meet BC at F ). Let also the circle AHB with diameter AB be given.
Find h (in terms of the given straight lines) such that h is to AB as the
ellipse is to the circle. Prove that your answer is correct, using Newton’s
lemmas as needed.
Remark. The ellipse appears to result from contracting the circle in one
direction. If this is so, then by Newton’s Lemma , the ratio of ellipse
to circle is the factor of contraction, which should be DE/DH. So one
should find this ratio and check that it is indeed independent of the choice
of D.
Two students solved this problem perfectly. Five others used without
proof a rule for the area of an ellipse; but we do not officially have such
a rule, and in fact the point of this problem is to establish this rule.

A.. Tuesday, May  


H

D
A B
G
F

C
Figure A.. Concentric circle and ellipse

Solution. By construction and the similarity of the triangles BDF and


BAC,
AC
DE 2 = ADF G = AD × DF = AD × DB × .
AB
In the circle,
DH 2 = AD × DB.
Let h be a mean proportional of AB and AC, so
AC h2
h2 = AB × AC, = .
AB AB 2
Then
DE 2 AC DE h
= , = .
DH 2 AB DH AB
If we inscribe series of parallelograms in the ellipse and circle, all of the
same breadth, then corresponding parallelograms will be to each other
as DE to DH, that is, h to AB. Therefore this is the ratio of the ellipse
to the circle [by Newton’s Lemma ].
Problem A... We have used without proof Propositions I. and  of
the Conics of Apollonius. This problem is an opportunity to prove those
propositions, using the techniques of Descartes and Newton as appropri-
ate.

 A. Examinations
H G
E

K
F

C
B
A
D
Figure A.. Parabola and tangent

A straight line ℓ (not shown), a curved line ABE [Figure A.], and
a straight line AC are given such that, whenever a point B is chosen at
random on ABE, and straight line BC is dropped perpendicular to AC,
then the square on BC is equal to the rectangle bounded by ℓ and AC.
So ABE is a parabola with axis AC.
Let B now be fixed; so we may write BC = a and AC = b. Extend CA
to D so that AD = AC. Draw straight line DBK, and let c = BD.
Let a point E be chosen at random on the parabola ABE. Draw straight
lines BF parallel to AC, and EF parallel to BD.
. Show that the parabola ABE must indeed lie all on one side of
DBK.
. Show that the square on EF varies as BF , and find m (in terms of
a, b, and c only) such that m × BF is equal to the square on EF .
For your computations, let x = EF and y = BF .
. Explain why BD is tangent to the parabola at B.

Remark. One approach to (a) is showing that E lies above K. The height
of E above D is the length of DH; by similarity of triangles, the height
of K above D is 2b/a times EH. The point of using DH and EH is that
we know how their lengths are related. Two students solved this problem
perfectly; one other was partially successful.
In (b), we want to find x2 /y in terms of fixed magnitudes. We have

A.. Tuesday, May  


one equation, EH 2 = ℓ × AH, and we can write this in terms of x and
y (and fixed magnitudes) by using the similar triangles BCD and EGF .
Three students solved this problem completely; two others got halfway
there.
For (c), one student showed that DB is the only straight line passing
through B and meeting AD that meets the parabola exactly once. A
number of students observed that DB does meet the parabola just once;
but this is not enough to establish that DB is a tangent. Note also that
BG also meets the parabola exactly once, but is not a tangent.

Solution. . Assuming KE is parallel to AC, drop a perpendicular


KL to AC. We want to show DH > DL or AH > AL. We have

EH 2 2b 2b
AH = , DL = LK × = EH × ,
ℓ a a
so
2bℓ
ℓ × (DH − DL) = EH 2 + bℓ − EH ×
a
= EH 2 + a2 − EH × 2a
= (EH − a)2 ,

which is positive when E is not B; so DH > DL.


. We have EH 2 = ℓ × AH. Since EG = ax/c and GF = 2bx/c, this
means
 ax 2  2bx 
a+ =ℓ y+ +b ,
c c
2 2a2 x a2 x2 2bℓx
a + + 2 = ℓy + + bℓ,
c c c

and since a2 = ℓb, we have

a2 x2 c2 c2
= ℓy, x2 = ℓy, m= .
c2 a2 b

. In the figure, as E approaches B, EK varies as BK 2 . Therefore


EK/BK varies as BK, so the angle EBK ultimately vanishes.

 A. Examinations
A.. Saturday, June 

Problem A... This problem is about the cubic equations

x3 + 3x2 = 6x + 17, (§)


3
t = 9t + 9. (¶)

A. Explain the relation between the solutions of (§) and (¶).


B. For one of (§) and (¶), find a solution geometrically, by intersect-
ing conic sections (as Omar Khayyam does).
C. Find three solutions in the same way (some might be negative).
D. Find a solution of (§) or (¶) numerically (in the manner suggested
by Cardano); your steps should be justifiable. Your answer will involve
square roots of negative numbers.

Solution. A. The substitution x = t − 1 converts (§) into (¶); so x is


a solution to (§) if and only if x + 1 is a solution to (¶)).
B. From (¶) we have

t2 t+1 t y t+1
= , = =
9 t 3 t y

for some y; that is, we can solve (¶) by simultaneously solving


t/3 = y/t and y/t = (t + 1)/y, that is,

t2 = 3y, y 2 = t(t + 1).

These equations define a parabola and a hyperbola, respectively, as


below [Figure A.]. Then AB is a solution to (¶).
C. The negative solutions of (¶) are CD and EF . (The parabola and
hyperbola intersect also at G, but no solution to (¶) corresponds
to this, since the corresponding value of y is 0.)
D. Let t = u + v; then

t3 = 3uvt + u3 + v 3 .

Then (¶) holds, provided uv = 3 and u3 + v 3 = 9. Solving these,

A.. Saturday, June  


A b b

b b
C
D
b
E b

F b

Figure A.. Intersecting parabola and hyperbola

we have
u6 + u3 v 3 = 9u3 ,
u6 + 27 = 9u3 ,
r √
3 9 81 9 ± 3 −3
u = ± − 27 = .
2 4 2

So if u is a cube root of (9 + 3 −3)/2, then one solution to (¶) is
u + 3/u.
Remark. Cardano could not give a meaning to the solution we found in
the last part; today we can, and the three choices of the cube root give
the three solutions found geometrically earlier.
Problem A... This problem shows that every line through the center
of an ellipse is a diameter with certain properties. The method is based
on Apollonius; but the algebraic geometry of Descartes makes some sim-
plifications possible. Straight line AB is given, and angle BAK is given.
The point C moves along AB, and as it moves, straight line CD remains
parallel to AK. But D moves along DC as C moves, so that D traces
out a curvilinear figure ADB, as shown [Figure A.] with two possible
positions of DC.
Recall that the curvilinear figure ADB is an ellipse with diameter
AB and ordinates parallel to AK if and only if
CD2 ∝ AC × CB (‖)

 A. Examinations
G G

A K A K

F E F E

C
D
M
H H

P P
L L

N C
N
M D
B B

Figure A.. Diameters of ellipses

(that is, the square on CD varies as the rectangle formed by AC and


CB).
Let E be chosen at random on ADB, and let straight line EF be drawn
parallel to KA, meeting AB at F . Let straight line EG be drawn, meeting
BA extended at G so that

AG AF
= . (∗∗)
GB FB

Let H be the midpoint of AB, and let straight line HE be drawn and
extended to meet AK at K. Let L be taken on AB (extended if necessary)
so that straight line DL is parallel to GE. Finally, let M be the point of
intersection of DC and HK (both extended if necessary).
For computations, let

AH = b, EF = c, HF = d, CD = x, CH = y.

A.. Saturday, June  


Also, let a be such that
a2 EF 2 c2
= = . (††)
b2 AF × F B b2 − d2
A. Show that (‖) holds if and only if
x2 y2
+ = 1. (‡‡)
a2 b2
B. Find HG in terms of b and d.
C. Show that (‖) holds if and only if
△CDL = △AHK − △CHM. (§§)
(Angle BAK is not assumed to be a right angle; but the computations
can be performed as if it were.)
D. Assuming (‖) holds (and hence (§§) holds, for all possibilities for
C), show
△AHK = △GHE.
E. Assume (‖) holds. Let EH be extended to meet the ellipse again
at N , and let EN meet DL (extended as necessary) at P . Show that the
curvilinear figure ADB is an ellipse with diameter EN whose ordinates
are parallel to EG. (You will probably want to use part C, translated
appropriately.)
Solution. A. If (‡) holds, then in particular it holds when C is F .
Therefore (‡) is equivalent to
CD2 EF 2 a2
= = 2,
AC × CB AF × F B b
x2 a2
= 2,
b2 − y 2 b
b x = a b − a2 y 2 ,
2 2 2 2

which is equivalent to (k).


B. Let HG = e. Then (§) becomes
e−b b−d
= ,
e+b b+d
which yields e = b2 /d.

 A. Examinations
C. Since CDL ∼ F EG, and
1  b2 
F EG = − d c,
2 d
we have
x2 x2  b2 
CDL = F EG = − d .
c2 2c d
We assume angle BAK is right; otherwise, we can just multiply
throughout by its sine.) Also AHK and CHM are both similar to
F HE, which is cd/2; so

cd  b2 y2 
AKH − CHM = 2
− 2 .
2 d d
So (∗∗) holds if and only if

x2  b2  b2 − y 2
−d =c ,
c d d
x2 (b2 − d2 ) = c2 (b2 − y 2 ),
b2 x2 = a2 (b2 − y 2 ),

which is equivalent to (k).


D. In (∗∗), let C be F ; then the equation becomes

F EG = AHK − F HE,

so AHK = F EG + F HE = GHE.
E. By part C, it is enough to show

P DM = EHG − P HL.

We have

P DM = CDL + CHM − P HL
= AHK − P HL [by (∗∗)]
= EHG − P HL [by D].

Bonus. What are your suggestions for improving the course?


Geldiğiniz için teşekkürler. İyi tatiller!

A.. Saturday, June  


B. Student comments

Here are the comments invited by the ‘bonus’ questions on the final ex-
ams.

B.. Fall
Original comments

Some of these came by email; others are transcribed from exam papers.
In either case, I do not make any stylistic corrections; mistakes can serve
as a reminder that the students are not native English speakers. Nothing
is left out; dots of ellipsis [. . . ] are by the students.
Yunus
Lesson was generally nice. Although presentations of students are neces-
sary, I think that you should talk more because you know the connections
of propositions with other things. And learning these connections is very
exciting.
For the exam, I think greek alphabet part is not necessary. I just
memorized it and unfortunately I am sure that I will forget it.
Elif
First of all thank you that this course is opened. History and philosophy
of mathematics are interesting and I am glad to take such kind of course
from my own department this time. I like course material (conics is a
bit difficult compared to elements but it is also good choice) and the
connection with language add a variation. Presentations shows us our
deficiencies, so they were very useful for us. Maybe it were possible that
not to choose before the lesson the person who presents the proposition
in order to make everyone prepared and have higher interaction level.
Homeworks or quizzes about alternative proofs may force us to consider
them more frequently. Exams were parallel to lessons and measure what
we have learned. In short, I am pleased to have attended to this course.


Tolga
Firstly, I didn’t suppose that this course might be exciting for me. I added
this course after the add-drop week, so I couldn’t attend the lesson until
this week. We have studied ‘The Elementa’, Euclid, so I had a chance
to study on this book. After all, this book helped me to learn how
to examine on mathematics. secondly, this final exam is extraordinary.
because of that I coudn’t well done that I supposed but it is certain that
this exam gave a chance to apply the propositions we learned. Moreover,
the lessons were interactive so that it increases my attandences. Shortly,
I think it is a good and exciting course for me. I am happy to take this
course. Thanks for everything. Good holiday.

Besmir
I wish the course was a little more math history, that would be very nice
I think. The exam maybe should be more alike the things we are usually
used to in the texts we had. Considering the risk I now find my self in,
maybe a second midterm would be good.

Ali
due to excessive amount of sidenotes, there is not much place left for us
to write. it’d be proper to give those problems on a -page exam paper.
also, size de iyi tatiller

Tuğba
I had trouble in understanding the propositions of the last book we cov-
ered in class, Apollonius. It would be better if the books which are easier
to understand and follow in lessons are covered

Rashad
I think exam and course were nice. Maybe a little bit more history will
be good. I wish you to have a nice holiday, too.

Melis
The course can be improved by making it ‘more’ history included and
‘less’ mathematics included. Maybe other than learning history of math-
ematical concepts, we also need to learn the lives of the mathematicians
who discovered those mathematical concepts.

B.. Fall 


Seçil
Firstly it is good to learn about Euclid an Apollonius. We think (as
a mathematics student) we know some geometry but we doesn’t even
know Euclid’s Elements.During this semester if we read some articles or
some books about Euclid and Apollonius lecture would be more educa-
tional.Sometimes classes were like a geometry class.I think we still don’t
understand why Euclid and Apollonius are so important in the history of
mathematics.Moreover I think we should talk about science in Ancient
Greek .
Secondly, final exam was a good exam .I just blame myself since I
didn’T read definitions carefully. It was a good lecture thank you for
being so nice to us.
Have a nice holiday.
Mürsel
It is a good chance learning history of mathematics. In our country these
terms are not investigated at high school. At this stage I think this will
be better if we learn than before. I like this course but it can be improved
by more modern terms. At class when you compare those think with later
work, we enjoyed to much. Thank you!
Nur
The book Appollionus was really hard to understand, it can be reduced
from the consept of lecture. Giving some exercise sheets for exams can
help the students to guide how to work for exam. For example I try to
memorize everything covered but still can not get a high grade :(
Özge
Before taking this course, I’ve heard something about it from my friends
who took in the previous years. They were presenting the biographies
of the ancient mathemecians and their famous theorems u.s.w. We had
partially done the same by presenting Euclid’s Elements and Apollonius’
Conics but it would be nice if we learnt something about also their lives,
how did they become who they are. . .
Tolgay
I wanted to write my opinions about the lecture. Sorry about late-sending
this email. But you know. . . finals.
First of all, I really enjoyed the course. The thing is I am not really
motivated for a big part of our courses. I like geometry, I like history so

 B. Student comments


the idea of this lecture was good for me. But the ‘history’ part was not
that emphasized. I mean when we check our website of department

MATH  History of Mathematical Concepts I (-) Mathematics in


Egypt and Mesopotamia, Ionia and Pythagoreans, paradoxes of Zeno
and the heroic age. Mathematical works of Plato, Aristotle, Euclid of
Alexandria, Archimedes, Appolonius and Diophantus. Mathematics in
China and India.
Prerequisite: Consent of the instructor.

It seems its more historical. I think I prefer what we did but still. . .
Maybe there could be a part where the other matematicians’ works are
presented. I think the students of mathematics should know some basic
history of maths but I am don’t know if it’s here to learn it. They can,
if they’re interested, easily read and make research about them.
And lastly, maybe a course website can be constructed by students as
well. . .
Thank you.
Taner
The lecture is especially not boring as the other courses that I have taken
from our department.You made us think about the proofs and formalize
the mathematical stuff by using geometry(görsel kanıtlama yöntemleri in
Turkish). But grading is more important for the students at METU so
you can name the cost(howmany points we are supposed to take from
a presentationproof) of the classes.I accept that this is not nice but you
will see that we students will attempt the course more than we do now.
Also if we learn the greek alphabet better this may benefit us.To give
an example, I sometimes couldn’t understand the proofs from the books
that are in your site.Or may be some more books can be suggested for
us to have a look for the proofs of the propositions. This is all that I
can find for now.Thanks a lot for your help during the classes, and your
understanding about being a teacher =) See you in the next semester
hocam

My responses
Here I summarized some responses to the bonus problem on the last exam,
and I added my comments. I did not finish or distribute this work; but

B.. Fall 


students’ comments did influence my writing of the course webpage for
Math ; see the beginning of Part II.
A. There was not enough space on the exam paper. Sorry!
B. There were no problems on ellipses or hyperbolas on the exam.
Exercise sheets would have been useful in preparing for exams. In a course
like calculus, the objective is to be able to solve problems, and the purpose
of the textbook is to help you meet this objective. Such is probably not
the purpose of Euclid or Apollonius.
Briefly, I see the objective of this course as to gain some insight into
what mathematics is. Two millenia and a few centuries ago, Euclid,
Archimedes, and Apollonius were doing something that we can recognize
as mathematics; but is it really the same as what we call mathematics to-
day? The only way I know to answer this is to read these mathematicians
and try to understand what they were doing.
This course has exams because exams are a standard means today for
assessing student progress. But my hope is that, if one does the readings
for the course with sufficient. . .
C. Learning the Greek alphabet was not necessary. Indeed, I’m sure
that most mathematicians outside of Greece cannot recite the Greek al-
phabet. Unfortunately most mathematicians have not read Euclid or
Apollonius either. But mathematicians use every letter of the Greek al-
phabet (except perhaps ο), and they may have opinions about ancient
Greek mathematics (such as ‘Euclid discovered the parallel postulate’, or
‘Euclid invented the axiomatic method’). Such opinions really ought to
be based on reading the original works. It would be best to read these
works in the original Greek, since translations can introduce distortions.
Indeed, as we discussed in class:
a) Euclid says ‘Let a straight line have been drawn,’ but the translator
might say ‘Let a straight line be drawn’;
b) Euclid says ‘Let the given straight line be AB,’ but the translator
might say ‘Let AB be the given straight line.’
These distinctions are subtle and are perhaps not mathematically impor-
tant. Also, we cannot all learn ancient Greek. However, as mathemati-
cians, we ought to be able to recognize words like κύκλος and παραβολή.
D. We should have done more history.
E. Apollonius is difficult; students have trouble presenting some propo-
sitions, and this causes difficulties for others in the class.

 B. Student comments


B.. Spring

Salih A.
It will be more helpful for us, if you explain (teach) the course instead of
the students. When we make presentations all of us know only their sub-
ject well, because we cannot concentrate on other students subjects. You
can give homeworks or some other projects instead of teaching. Because
listening subject from a lecturer or a student is very different. Thanks
for everything. . .
Ece
In this course, if we want to solve questions we need to think and work
on more about them. To make presentations is a good idea. At least
some of the students get prepared the course and know the propositions
or corrollaries. . .
I think, take home exams or, only homework questions without exams
will be better idea. Because I think if the exams would be take home
style, the students (we) meet all together and think together. In this way
we all need to learn all the corollaries or etc., because in the questions I
can use some of the properties and the other student can use other ones.
So none of us can solve questions, but we all can solve some part of them.
But if we do them together, we may solve the questions. As a old people
say ‘Bir elin nesi var, iki elin sesi var.’
Duygu
Don’t get angry but I totally think student presentations is not a good
idea. Personally I like old-fashioned classroom style, the teacher lectures
and kids listen and takes notes. If you try the classical method, I think
both you and students will be happier. (and it would be better for exams
too, it’s good to have a proper notebook for the exams.) Also thank you
for recommendation letters ,
Burhan
expecially, A book which has a fluently english and ‘güncel’ english words.
Also at the class, you can be more active about teaching lesson because
when students try to teach it can be difficult to understand. Also, we are
not recognize ancient terms about mathematics so I think before these
course, Math  need to be a prerequisite lesson.

B.. Spring 


Gökçen
This course wasn’t that clear because of the language of the texts. It was
a little bit strange and challenging to understand the content of them.
Maybe due to this, I couldn’t enjoy than I expected at the beginning of
this semester. . . Because for me mathematics is getting much more enjoy-
able and attractive when I can understand and can do something about it.
Only these two points bothered me during whole this semester. . . (Again
thanks for your understanding. . . )
Seray
This semester I started working and this course was the only one requiring
attendence among  courses I’ve taken. I could only attend this course
at the beginning of the semester. Therefore I don’t have a lot to say
about improving the course. But I have some observations. First, the
presentations weren’t effective enough to get us to the level of being
successful at your exams. Also written group homeworks would be more
motivating than making presentations.
Besmir
I think the conic section questions are too confusing and I find it hard to
see what is going on. Thank you.
Ali
Due to lots of mathematicians being studied in the semester, students
may grow tired, because each new mathematician requires a new, more
or less, mindset than the previous one. So reducing the number of people
studied may be a good idea. Also, if you’re lecture this course next year,
do put previous exams on the net so that students may see what your
style is, what kind & type of questions you ask.
Oğuzhan
Well I believe that understanding this stuff is not the main trouble for us;
however when it comes to applying to questions in the exam, we are a bit
confused (at least me!!). So it may be quite useful if some applications
of these propositions / lemmas are distributed to the class (similar to
recitation hour!) I enjoyed attending this class. Thank you.
Yasemin
First of all, I thank you for your kindness and help during this semester.
In order to improve the course, in my opinion it is better for the lectures

 B. Student comments


to be guided by you more, instead of the students. For participation
in class, student’s proving the statements is good; however, it would be
better for anyone to prove some important part from the lecture notes
which is choosen by the student at the beginning of the semester, and
then you may expect a more qualified presentation and proof, digged into
the topic by the student itself, and this presentation might worth more
credits for this course, such as % .
Also you may give some bonus tasks, since this course is not a simple
one, then the catalogue grading would fit everyone. Have a nice holiday.
Best regards.
Melis
This course is all about the history of mathematical concepts, but I would
wish to learn more about the ‘people’ who discovered those concepts.
Surely, it’s totally up to me to learn about them by myself, but I would
prefer to be asked about the people rather than what they discovered.
We, as the upcoming mathematicians, are supposed to know about the
history of mathematics in all aspects. For instance, last semester, in Math
 course, I was very glad to be taught the Greek alphabet although I
can already speak Greek. It was a completely different perspective for
both me and the rest of the class.
My answer to this question has become ‘my feedback to the course’
more than ‘my suggestions for improving the course’, but I’m finding it
useful to transfer my ideas about the course. For one thing, I enjoyed
attending the classes of Math  more. I could concentrate on it more.
I don’t think that this is about the easiness of Math . It’s about that
I liked the content of the course more. The reason why I took Math 
without hesitate is exactly this. As you must have realized, I couldn’t
focus on Math  during the semester.
I hope my feedback gives you some idea about how this course made
the class feel. Thank you.
Salih K.
I can not speak English very well. So I can not explain my sentences to
teacher. This is my problem, I know. In my opinion, Cem TEZER must
be the instructor. David Hoca is a good teacher except for me.
Zhala
My suggestions for improving the course are that:

B.. Spring 


Firstly, I think the content of the course is good but the system of
learning is not. I mean, presentations handed by students should be more
well-prepared. Visuals should be used. Moreover, Publishes of TÜBİTAK
can be used in order to improve our analytic thinking on certain problems
coming from history of mathematics. Also, grp presentations can be held
and can make more understandable the content.
Thanks a lot.
Şule
(I think) Giving take home quizzes may help students to think on lecture
materials. (To be familiar with problems etc.)
Mehmet Ş.
I think this course needs a book which is understood easier than the
current textbook.
Makbule
The content of the course is becoming harder at the end of the term.
Lemma’s and theorems that we covered after midterm seem as high lev-
elled mathematical concepts. Therefore, the course may be clearer when
you tell the idea of the propositions, theorems etc. to us first. It is really
convinient and efficient to go over the notes which we take during the
class. I mean, it is easier to understand your own notes than the ones in
the book.
The presentations make the course more interactive. I’m happy with
the idea of presentations. But it may be more beneficial if you repeat
the main points and the idea of the propositions after our presentations.
I talked to almost everyone in the class about this and the general idea
about presentations is parallel to mine.
The last thing I want to mention is that the lackness of the questions
related to the topics we covered in the class. It is really difficult to handle
with the questions for the first time during the exam. It can be better if
you give some exercises before exams.

 B. Student comments


C. Collingwood on history
From the Autobiography []:
I expressed this new conception of history in the phrase: ‘all history is
the history of thought.’ You are thinking historically, I meant, when
you say about anything, ‘I see what the person who made this (wrote
this, used this, designed this, &c.) was thinking.’ Until you can say
that, you may be trying to think historically, but you are not succeed-
ing. And there is nothing except thought that can be the object of his-
torical knowledge. Political history is the history of political thought:
not ‘political theory’, but the thought which occupies the mind of a
man engaged in political work: the formation of a policy, the planning
of means to execute it, the attempt to carry it into effect, the discovery
that others are hostile to it, the devising of ways to overcome their
histility, and so forth. . . Military history, again, is not a description of
weary marches in heat or cold, or the thrills and chills of battle or the
long agony of wounded men. It is a description of plans and counter-
plans: of thinking about strategy and thinking about tactics, and in
the last resort of what men in the ranks though about the battle.
On what conditions was it possible to know the history of a thought?
First, the thought must be expressed: either in what we call language,
or in one of the many other forms of expressive activity. . . Secondly, the
historian must be able to think over again for himself the thought whose
expression he is trying to interpret. . . If some one, hereinafter called the
mathematician, has written that twice two is four, and if some one else,
hereinafter called the historian, wants to know what he was thinking
when he made those marks on paper, the historian will never be able
to answer this question unless he is mathematician enough to think
exactly what the mathematician thought, and expressed by writing
that twice two are four. When he interprets the marks on paper, and
says, ‘by these marks the mathematician meant that twice two are
four’, he is thinking simultaneously: (a) that twice two are four, (b)
that the mathematician thought this, too; and (c) that he expressed
this thought by making these marks on paper. . .
This gave me a second proposition: ‘historical knowledge is the re-
enactment in the historian’s mind of the thought whose history he is
studying.’


D. Departmental correspondence
Here are some emails about the course that were shared within the METU
mathematics department.

D.. Wednesday, April , at :


I wrote to odtu-math :
Since it is time to make our course requests for next fall, I thought I
would talk about what I have been doing this year with Math  and
, ‘History of Mathematical Concepts’. I would be happy to teach this
course again next year; but I would also be happy if somebody else was
interested in teaching the course as I have been.
I have three principles for the course:
. Our only textbook is original sources (in translation as necessary):
Euclid, Apollonius, al-Khwarizmi, Descartes, . . .
. The ‘teacher’ does not lecture; the students present at the black-
board what they have read.
. Attendence is required.
There are details on the web pages
http://www.metu.edu.tr/~dpierce/Courses/303/
http://www.metu.edu.tr/~dpierce/Courses/304/

In addition, I keep a journal of what goes on in class. My record of the


first semester is  pages. If you want to see it, let me know.
We spent most of last semester reading Euclid. Many of the propo-
sitions were familiar to the students; but the students had not proved
these propositions before. It seemed a shame that the students had had
to wait till their third or fourth year at university to prove these propo-
sitions. Euclid’s propositions were part of the basic education of most
of the great mathematicians whose theorems we try to teach. Indeed, it
might be good if Math  consisted (in part or whole) of reading and
presenting Euclid. For example, proportion as Euclid defines it is an
excellent example of an equivalence relation.


Meanwhile, Math  is a place where our students can read Euclid
(and Apollonius, or Archimedes, or . . . ). As I said, I am happy if either
I or somebody else does this reading with them next year.

D.. Wednesday, April , at :


Sergey responded on odtu-math :
In my opinion, a few first lectures should be really devoted to mathe-
matics of antique times and Middle Ages, but the most importand and
most interesting events in mathematics happened later, and one should
spare enough time to discuss the works of Newton, Euler, Lagrange, Ga-
lois, Abel, Gauss, Riemann, Klein, Hilbert, Poincare, and many other
giants. One should discuss the history of geometry (famous old prob-
lems, non-Euclidean geometry, Italian Algebro-geometric school), of al-
gebra (evolution of the concepts, like numbers, groups), of Analysis (the
Newton-Leibnitz dispute, the problem of foundations, notorious mistaken
‘theorems’, fake references like ‘L’Hospital rule’, etc.). It is good to say
about the history of the first Math journals, Academies of Science, about
their Competitions and Awards. One should certainly discuss Hilbert’s
problems, the history of Fields medals, solution of the most outstanding
problems (of Fermat, of Poincare, Four-colour, etc.), some new theories
and trends in Math in the last century, and may be stop with the Mille-
nium problems.
I can give such a course myself, or welcome anybody else who would
do it!

D.. Thursday, April , at :


I responded:
Sergey wrote:

In my opinion, a few first lectures should be really devoted to math-


ematics of antique times and Middle Ages, but the most importand
and most interesting events in mathematics happened later, and one
should spare enough time to discuss the works of Newton, Euler, La-
grange, Galois, Abel, Gauss, Riemann, Klein, Hilbert, Poincare, and
many other giants.

D.. Wednesday, April , at : 


Thanks for writing. However, I don’t know what your point is. You
refer to ‘a first few lectures’. A few first lectures of what? You are
replying to my email about Math /, so maybe you are referring to
lectures in this course. However, I wrote:

I have three principles for the course:. . .


. The ‘teacher’ does not lecture; the students present at the black-
board what they have read.

So there are no lectures in my course. Or rather, everybody in the class-


room is a lecturer. You don’t seem to address this point. But my un-
dergraduate education consisted entirely of classes like this. I was very
happy with the arrangement, and I decided to see if it would work at
METU. I believe I have had some success.
However, we are reading Newton’s Principia now. I don’t know if we
shall have time for anything else. Recently a young woman whom I’ll call
‘Yolanda’ [Yasemin] was presenting Lemma VII [see p.  above], which
you can see at:
http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Mathematical_Principles_
of_Natural_Philosophy_(1729)/Book_1/Section_1#Lem7

When ‘Yolanda’ got to Corollary , she said and wrote that AD, DE,
BF , F G, AB, and the arc ACB had [ultimately] the ratio of equality.
I said I didn’t believe it. In fact she had miscopied Newton. I hoped
she would try to work out a proof and see her mistake. But she only
beamed at me and said, ‘It’s hard to believe, but true!’
I finally asked ‘Yolanda’ to check her text. She saw that she should
have had AE for DE, and BG for F G. But she couldn’t give a proof of
the correct statement. She just muttered something about how Newton
was smarter than she was.
I went to the board and suggested a proof. One of the most interested
and active students in the class, ‘Oscar’ [Oğuzhan], was skeptical; but
when you are talking (for the first time in history, perhaps) about the
ratios with which quantities vanish, skepticism is to be expected. ‘Sara’
[Şule] seemed to think at first that Lemma VII followed immediately from
Lemma VI.
And so the discussion continued. Thus a number of students became
collectively engaged in puzzling out what Newton was talking about.

 D. Departmental correspondence


Unfortunately it doesn’t happen much in my class. Students come to class
and present the propositions assigned to them, but often they haven’t
really understood the point of the propositions, or their proof. In their
presentations, they may say, ‘he says this, then he says that’, rather than
saying we have this, and therefore we have that.
How can they do anything else? One difficulty is that students are
taking several other courses, in particular math courses, which also de-
mand their attention. Of greater concern is that students are trained to
believe that books and teachers are unquestionable authorities. I hope
to encourage them to see things differently. This is the main point.
By the way, reading Cardano’s Ars Magna in my course was perhaps
useful for this purpose. I hadn’t read Cardano before, but I thought that,
in Math , we might read his solution of cubic equations. Then I found
more and more of Cardano that seemed worth reading in class.
After reading more carefully with the students, I had to conclude that
either Cardano was a bad writer, or else he really didn’t understand what
he was doing. He also makes computational mistakes, which students
discovered.
Unfortunately the only available English translation of Cardano is un-
satisfactory, because it uses modern algebraic notation. Therefore I also
gave the students the original Latin to look at. I think there is no point
to studying pre-Cartesian mathematics unless one tries to forget about
our modern symbolic tools. Descartes thought the Ancients really had
such tools too; but this is not at all clear.
Sergey, let me repeat what you said:
In my opinion, a few first lectures should be really devoted to math-
ematics of antique times and Middle Ages, but the most importand
and most interesting events in mathematics happened later, and one
should spare enough time to discuss the works of Newton, Euler, La-
grange, Galois, Abel, Gauss, Riemann, Klein, Hilbert, Poincare, and
many other giants.

The most important and most interesting events happened later? This
makes as much sense as saying that War and Peace is more important
and more interesting than the Iliad and the Odyssey. But have you read
Newton, Euler, Lagrange, and the others you mention? Do you propose
to read them in class with students?
For Math , I wondered if we could use something like Struik’s Source

D.. Thursday, April , at : 


Book in Mathematics, –. I decided against it. There is not much
point in reading the short passages provided by Struik, just so that one
can say, ‘I’ve read Leibniz’ or ‘I’ve read Bernoulli’. A writer worth reading
is worth spending time with, over the course of many pages.
Struik gives a passage from Cardan with a solution of what we write
as
x3 + 6x = 20. (∗)
A third part of each of Struik’s pages is filled with footnotes explaining
what Cardan is doing. Only Cardan is not doing what is in the footnotes.
As Struik shows in his notes, we can solve the cubic equation

x3 + px = q

by substituting
x=u−v
and solving first for u and v. But either Cardan doesn’t really see this
himself, or else he is hiding it. Cardan gives a formula for x, and he can
prove it is correct by substitution; but he shows no interest in deriving
the formula. Struik does not address this point.
Neither does Boyer, whose text has (I believe) been traditionally used
for Math /. In his section on Cardan’s solution, Boyer just writes,

The solution of this equation covers a couple of pages of rhetoric that


we should now put in symbols as follows: Substitute u − v = x. . .

In that ‘rhetoric’, Cardan shows in effect that, if we have the simultane-


ous equations

u3 − v 3 = 20, uv = 2,

then x = u − v in (∗) above. He doesn’t say why we should start with


those simultaneous equations. Neither does he explain how to solve those
simultaneous equations: he just tells you the formula for the solution.
Actually this seems to be just what mathematics is in the minds of (some
of) our students, who love formulas, no matter where they come from, as
long as they can be used on the exam. But I blame the university entrance
exam system for this (and perhaps teachers who are earlier products of
this system).

 D. Departmental correspondence


One should discuss the history of geometry (famous old problems, non-
Euclidean geometry, Italian Algebro-geometric school), of algebra (evo-
lution of the concepts, like numbers, groups), of Analysis (the Newton-
Leibnitz dispute, the problem of foundations, notorious mistaken ‘the-
orems’, fake references like ‘L’Hospital rule’, etc.). It is good to say
about the history of the first Math journals, Academies of Science,
about their Competitions and Awards. One should certainly discuss
Hilbert’s problems, the history of Fields medals, solution of the most
outstanding problems (of Fermat, of Poincare, Four-colour, etc.), some
new theories and trends in Math in the last century, and may be stop
with the Millenium problems.
I can give such a course myself, or welcome anybody else who would
do it!

Well Sergey, there is a procedure for opening new courses. Or if you mean
to be describing how Math / should be taught, then please say so.
You seem to be describing a lecture course; if so, it is not a course that
I would consider myself competent to teach.
Lecturing mathematics is fine, since the listeners can check the lec-
turer’s claims by using the critical powers of their own reason. Again
though, I am sorry that even some students in Math / don’t use
these critical powers very much. In any case, lecturing about what hap-
pened in the past is a different matter. For example, perhaps we all grew
up with the idea that there was a crisis in ancient mathematics owing
to the discovery of incommensurable magnitudes. We may tell students
about this if we happen to prove to them the irrationality of the square
root of 2. However, it seems there is simply no evidence of an ancient
crisis.
Of course events of more recent centuries may be better documented.

D.. Friday, April , at :


Sergey wrote again to odtu-math :
It would be interesting to discuss your ideas: I would prefer to do
it privately, not involving people not interested in this subject. I will
just try now to state clearly my opinion which differs from yours: a
course ‘History of Math concepts’ is really needed for our Department just
because it helps to understand better mathematics. There are impotant
topics to be covered, and they should not be missed. For undergraduate

D.. Friday, April , at : 


students, an idea to replace a lecture course by a seminar course does
not seem good: stdents may really have more fun (like in a course of
singing, or dancing), and even study a few selected topics better, but
overall they will be far behind the syllabus. A kind of a seminar that
you proposed instead of lectures would be perfect for graduate students
in History Department, who really need to learn how to work with the
original sources.

 D. Departmental correspondence


E. Notes on Greek mathematics

[I put these notes on the Math  webpage at the beginning of the
semester.]

E.. Introduction

Some time in the rd century b.c.e., Apollonius of Perga wrote eight
books on conic sections. We have the first four books [, ] in the
original Greek; the next three books survive in Arabic translation [];
the eighth book is lost. As Apollonius tells us in an introductory letter,
his first four books are part of an elementary course on the conic sections.
Before Apollonius, around  b.c.e., Euclid published the thirteen
books of the Elements [, , ], a work of mathematics of which some
parts could well be used as a textbook today. The Elements provide a
good example of mathematical exposition and of what it means to prove
something.
In , getting ready to teach a course on the conic sections,∗ I wrote
some notes on ancient mathematics. Using those notes, I have prepared
the present notes, for use in a course called ‘History of Mathematical
Concepts I’ at METU—a course in which participants will read Euclid
and Apollonius.
In the latter sections of these notes, I look at some general features
of ancient mathematics as I understand it. Meanwhile, in §E., I jump
forward in history to Descartes, to see the sorts of improvements that he
thought he was making to the mathematical practice of mathematicians
like Euclid and Apollonius.
Because I shall occasionally refer to some Greek words, I review the
Greek alphabet in [Appendix F.]

∗ At the Nesin Mathematics Village, Şirince, Selçuk, İzmir, Turkey.


E.. Why read the Ancients?
As an undergraduate, I attended a college∗ where Euclid and Apollonius
were used as textbooks. They were so used, I think, not because they
were considered to be the best textbooks, but because they had been
textbooks for countless generations of mathematicians: therefore (the
idea was), one might gain some understanding of humanity and oneself
by reading these books. (The same is true for Homer, Aeschylus, Plato,
and the other great books read at the college.)
Now, having become a professional mathematician, I ask what Euclid
and Apollonius have to offer the mathematician of today. It is in pursuit
of an answer to this question that I prepare these notes—which therefore
are part of an ongoing project.
I prepare these notes also for the sake of honesty about what students
are asked to learn. The curves called conic sections are a standard part
of an elementary course of mathematics. The origin of such curves is in
the name: they are obtained by slicing a cone. Apollonius treated the
curves in this way. But in math courses today, the conic sections are
usually given as the curves defined by certain equations, such as
x2 y2
ay = x2 or ± = 1.
a2 b2
Or perhaps the curves are given in terms of foci and directrices. A text-
book may assert that the curves so defined can indeed by obtained as
sections of cones; but it is rare that this assertion is justified.
One calculus textbook† writes:
In this section we give geometric definitions of parabolas, ellipses, and
hyperbolas and derive their standard equations. They are called conic
sections, or conics, because they result from intersecting a cone with
a plane as shown in Figure .
(I omit the author’s figure.) The conic sections result from intersecting
a cone with a plane: this can be understood as a definition of the conic
sections. Let us call it Definition I. More precisely, this definition distin-
guishes three kinds of conic sections, depending on the angle of the plane
∗ St John’s College, with campuses in Annapolis, Maryland, and Santa Fe, New

Mexico, USA [see p. ].


† James Stewart, Calculus, fifth edition, p. . This text is currently in use at

METU.

 E. Notes on Greek mathematics


with respect to the cone. One kind of conic section is called the parabola,
and the text continues under the heading Parabolas:

A parabola is the set of points in a plane that are equidistant from


a fixed point F (called the focus) and a fixed line (called the direc-
trix). . . In the th century Galileo showed that the path of a projec-
tile that is shot into the air at an angle to the ground is a parabola.
Since then, parabolic shapes have been used in designing automobile
headlights, reflecting telescopes, and suspension bridges. . . We obtain a
particularly simple equation for a parabola if we place its vertex at the
origin O. . .

Here then is another definition of the parabola; call it Definition II. Def-
initions I and II are equivalent in that they define the same objects; but
the author does not clearly say so, much less prove it. I don’t think he
needs to prove the equivalence; but at least he ought to state that he is
not going to prove it.
Perhaps the author expects the reader to infer the equivalence of Def-
initions I and II. But this is not his style. He is usually eager to give his
readers every assistance. Note for example that he apparently does not
trust readers to infer for themselves that parabolas are worth studying.
Before concluding anything from his definition of parabolas, the author
feels the need to tell the reader how useful parabolas are.
Another textbook∗ follows a similar procedure, first defining the conic
sections as such, then defining them in terms of foci and directrices.
Between the two definitions, the writer observes that the intersection
of a cone and a plane will be given by a second-degree equation. This
suggests that the quadratic equations to be derived presently in the book
may indeed define conic sections. However, no attempt is made to prove
that every curve defined by a quadratic equation can be obtained as the
section of a cone. The author observes:

After straight lines the conic sections are the simplest of plane curves.
They have many properties that make them useful in applications of
mathematics; that is why we include a discussion of them here. Much
of this material is optional from the point of view of a calculus course,
but familiarity with the properties of conics can be very important in
some applications. Most of the properties of conics were discovered by
∗ Robert A. Adams, Calculus: a complete course, fourth edition, p. . This text

was formerly used at METU.

E.. Why read the Ancients? 


the Greek geometer, Apollonius of Perga, about  BC. It is remark-
able that he was able to obtain these properties using only the tech-
niques of classical Euclidean geometry; today most of these properties
are expressed more conveniently using analytic geometry and specific
coordinate systems.
Again, the justification offered for the study of the conic sections is their
usefulness. But as for ‘expressing’ the properties of conic sections, which
of the following expresses better what a conic section is?
. It is the intersection of a cone and a plane.
. It is the intersection of the surfaces defined by the equations
ax + by + cz + d = 0, (x − ez)2 + y 2 = f z 2 .
What the author means, I think, is that it is convenient to define certain
curves ‘analytically’—that is, in a coordinate system such as Descartes
introduced; properties of the curves can then be obtained by further
analysis. But showing that those curves are conic sections is a whole
other problem, not addressed in the book.
By the way, despite what the last quotation suggests, I am not sure that
obtaining nice results with limited mathematical tools is remarkable in
itself. The tools of an artisan depend on what is available in the physical
environment; but the tools of a mathematician depend only on imagi-
nation. A mathematician without the imagination to come up with the
best tool for the job would seem to be an unremarkable mathematician.
The first chapter of Hilbert and Cohn-Vossen’s Geometry and the Imag-
ination [] contains a beautiful account of how various properties of the
conic sections arise from consideration of the cones from which the sec-
tions are obtained. However, the cones considered by the authors are all
right cones. Apollonius does not make this restriction. Hilbert and Cohn-
Vossen give an etymology for the names of the ellipse, the hyperbola, and
the parabola: it involves eccentricity. The etymology is plausible, but it
appears to be literally incorrect, as a reading of Book I of Apollonius
would show.
Mathematics reveals underlying correspondences between seemingly
dissimilar things. Sometimes we treat these correspondences as identities.
This can be a mistake. There is a correspondence between conic sections
and quadratic equations. But are the sections really the equations? One
cannot answer the question without considering conic sections as such,
as Apollonius considered them.

 E. Notes on Greek mathematics


E.. Synthesis and analysis
It may be said that, in reading Euclid and Apollonius, we are going to do
pre-Cartesian mathematics: mathematics as done before (well before)
the time of René Descartes (–).
The geometry pioneered by René Descartes is called analytic geome-
try; by contrast, the geometry of ancient mathematicians like Euclid and
Apollonius is sometimes called synthetic geometry. But what does this
mean? The word synthetic comes from the Greek συνθετικός, meaning
skilled in putting together or constructive. This Greek adjective derives
from the verb συντίθημι put together, construct (from συν together and
τίθημι put ). The word analytic is the English form of ἀναλυτικός, which
derives from the verb ἀναλύω undo, set free, dissolve (from ἀνα up, λύω
loose). Although we refer to ancient geometry as synthetic, the Ancients
evidently recognize both analytic and synthetic methods. Around 
c.e., Pappus of Alexandria writes [, p. ]:
Now analysis (ἀνάλυσις) is a method of taking that which is sought as
though it were admitted and passing from it through its consequences
in order to something which is admitted as a result of synthesis; for in
analysis we suppose that which is sought to be already done, and we
inquire what it is from which this comes about, and again what is the
antecedent cause of the latter, and so on until, by retracing our steps, we
light upon something already known or ranking as a first principle; and
such a method we call analysis, as being a reverse solution (ἀνάπαλιν
λύσις).
But in synthesis (συνθέσις), proceeding in the opposite way, we sup-
pose to be already done that which was last reached in the analysis,
and arranging in their natural order as consequents what were formerly
antecedents and linking them one with another, we finally arrive at the
construction of what was sought; and this we call synthesis.
Now analysis is of two kinds, one, whose object is to seek the truth,
being called theoretical (θεωρητικός), and the other, whose object is
to find something set for finding, being called problematical (προβλη-
ματικός).

This passage is not very useful without examples: I shall propose one
presently. Meanwhile, I note that Pappus elsewhere [, pp. –]
says more about the distinction between theorems and problems:
Those who favor a more technical terminology in geometrical research

E.. Synthesis and analysis 


use problem (πρόβλημα) to mean a [proposition∗ ] in which it is pro-
posed to do or construct [something]; and theorem (θεώρημα), a
[proposition] in which the consequences and necessary implications of
certain hypotheses are investigated; but among the ancients some de-
scribed them all as problems, some as theorems.

What really distinguishes Cartesian geometry from what came before


is perhaps suggested by the first sentence of Descartes’s Geometry [,
p. ]:
Any problem in geometry can easily be reduced to such terms that a
knowledge of the lengths of certain straight lines is sufficient for its
construction.

From a straight line, Descartes abstracts something called length. A


length is something that we might today call a positive real number.
Descartes takes the edifice of geometry that has been built up or ‘syn-
thesized’ over the centuries, and reduces or ‘analyzes’ its study into the
manipulation of numbers. To be more precise, he ‘takes that which is
sought as though it were admitted’ in the following way. In Figure E.,
straight lines BE, DR, and F S are given in position (meaning their end-

E A B

Figure E.. Descartes’s diagram


∗ Ivor Thomas [, p. ] uses inquiry here in his translation; but there is no word

in the Greek original corresponding to this or to proposition.

 E. Notes on Greek mathematics


points themselves are not fixed); and the sizes of angles ABC, ADC,
and CF E are given. It is required to find the point C so that the rect-
angle with sides BC and CD has a given ratio to the square on CF .
(This is a simplified version of the problem that Descartes takes up in
the Geometry.)
In his analytic approach, Descartes assumes that C has already been
found, as in the figure. We denote AB by x, and BC by y. The ratio
AB : BR is given; call it z : b. Then
bx bx zy + bx
RB = , CR = y + = .
z z z
But CR : CD is given; call it z : c. Then
czy + bcx
CD = .
z2
Also AE is given; call it k. And let BE : BS = z : d. Then
dk + dx zy + dk + dx
BE = k + x, BS = , CS = .
z z
Finally, if CS : CF = z : e, then
ezy + dek + dex
CF = .
z2
So it is given that the ratio
 2
czy + bcx ezy + dek + dex
y· :
z2 z2
is constant. This gives us a quadratic equation in the unknowns x and y.
Descartes’s method does not use explicitly drawn axes with respect to
which x and y are measured. Also, the straight lines called x and y are
not required to be perpendicular: they are merely not parallel.
Through analysis, we have found an equation that determines the point
C. Since the equation is quadratic, the point C lies on (a curve that
turns out to be) a conic section. When there are more straight lines in
the problem, then the resulting equation may have a higher degree.
We do not get any sense here for what the curve of C looks like. We
might get some sense by analyzing the equation for C. Apollonius will
give us a sense for what conic sections look like by showing how they are
related to the cones that they come from.

E.. Synthesis and analysis 


E.. Theorems and problems
The text of Apollonius as we have it consists almost entirely of theorems
and problems (in the sense of the last section). There are some intro-
ductory remarks, some definitions, but nothing else. The theorems and
problems can be analyzed in a way described by Proclus,∗ in the fifth
century c.e., in his commentaries on Euclid [, p. ]:

Every problem and every theorem that is furnished with all its parts
should contain the following elements: an enunciation (πρότασις), an
exposition (ἔκθεσις), a specification (διορισμός), a construction (κατα-
σκευή), a proof (ἀπόδειξις), and a conclusion (συμπέρασμα). Of these,
the enunciation states what is given and what is being sought from
it, for a perfect enunciation consists of both these parts. The exposi-
tion takes separately what is given and prepares it in advance for use
in the investigation. The specification takes separately the thing that
is sought and makes clear precisely what it is. The construction adds
what is lacking in the given for finding what is sought. The proof draws
the proposed inference by reasoning scientifically from the propositions
that have been admitted. The conclusion reverts to the enunciation,
confirming what has been proved.
So many are the parts of a problem or a theorem. The most essential
ones, and those which are always present, are enunciation, proof, and
conclusion.

Alternative translations are: for ἔκθεσις, setting out, and for διορισμός,
definition of goal [, p. ].
For an illustration, we may analyze Proposition  of Book I of Euclid’s
Elements (in Fitzpatrick’s translation []). The proposition is a problem:

Enunciation. To construct an equilateral triangle on a given finite


straight-line.

Exposition. Let AB be the given finite straight-line.


Specification. So it is required to construct an equilateral triangle on the
straight-line AB.
∗ Proclus was born in Byzantium (that is, Constantinople, now İstanbul), but his
parents were from Lycia (Likya), and he was educated first in Xanthus. He moved to
Alexandria, then Athens, to study philosophy [, p. xxxix].

 E. Notes on Greek mathematics


Construction. Let the circle BCD with center A and radius AB have been
drawn, and again let the circle ACE with center B and radius BA have
been drawn. And let the straight-lines CA and CB have been joined from
the point C, where the circles cut one another, to the points A and B
(respectively).

Proof. And since the point A is the center of the circle CDB, AC is equal
to AB. Again, since the point B is the center of the circle CAE, BC is
equal to BA. But CA was also shown (to be) equal to AB. Thus, CA
and CB are each equal to AB. But things equal to the same thing are
also equal to one another. Thus, CA is also equal to CB. Thus, the three
(straight-lines) CA, AB, and BC are equal to one another.

Conclusion. Thus, the triangle ABC is equilateral, and has been con-
structed on the given finite straight-line AB. (Which is) the very thing it
was required to do.

E.. Conversational implicature


One apparent difference between the ancient and modern approaches to
mathematics may result from a modern habit that is exemplified in a
Russian textbook of the Soviet period [, pp.  f.]:
The student of mathematics must at all times have a clear-cut under-
standing of all fundamental mathematical concepts. . . The student will
also recall the signs of weak inequalities: 6 (less than or equal to) and >
(greater than or equal to). The student usually finds no difficulty when
using them in formal transformations, but examinations have shown
that many students do not fully comprehend their meaning.
To illustrate, a frequent answer to: “Is the inequality 2 6 3 true? ” is
“No, since the number 2 is less than 3.” Or, say, “Is the inequality 3 6 3
true? ” the answer is often “No, since 3 is equal to 3.” Nevertheless,
students who answer in this fashion are often found to write the result
of a problem as x 6 3. Yet their understanding of the sign 6 between
concrete numbers signifies that not a single specific number can be
substituted in place of x in the inequality x 6 3, which is to say that
the sign 6 cannot be used to relate any numbers whatsoever.

The students referred to, who will not allow that 2 6 3, are following
a habit of ordinary language, whereby the whole truth must be told.

E.. Conversational implicature 


According to this habit, one does not say 2 6 3, because one can make
a stronger, more informative statement, namely 2 < 3. This habit would
appear to be an instance of conversational implicature: this is the ability
of people to convey or implicate statements that are not logically implied
by their words [, ch. , §, pp. –]. In saying A or B [is true], one
usually ‘implicates’ that one does not know which is true.
This habit of implicature may be reflected in the ancient understand-
ing, according to which one (ἕν) is not a number (ἀριθμός). In Book VII
of the Elements, Euclid somewhat obscurely defines a unit (μονάς) as
that by virtue of which each being is called ‘one’. (This English version
of the definition is based on the Greek text supplied in [, Vol. , p.].)
Then a number is defined as a multitude (πλῆθος) composed of units.
In particular, a unit is not a number, because it is not a multitude: it is
one. Euclid does not bother to state explicitly this distinction between
units and numbers, but it can be inferred, for example, from his presen-
tation of what we now call the Euclidean algorithm. Proposition VII. of
the Elements involves a pair of numbers such that the algorithm, when
applied to them, yields a unit (μονάς). Then this unit is not considered
as a greatest common divisor of the numbers; the numbers do not have a
greatest common divisor; the numbers are simply relatively prime. If the
numbers are not relatively prime, then the same algorithm yields their
greatest common divisor. This observation appears to be the contrapos-
itive of the first, but Euclid distinguishes it as Proposition VII. of the
Elements.
Conversational implicature may be seen in Apollonius’s treating of the
circle as different from an ellipse.

E.. Lines
In the old understanding, a line need not be straight. A line may have
endpoints, or it may be, for example, the circumference of a circle. In-
deed, according to the definition in Euclid’s Elements,
A circle (κύκλος) is a plane figure contained by one line (γραμμή) such
that all the straight lines falling upon it from one point among those
lying within the figure are equal to one another.

A straight line (εὐθεῖα γραμμή) does have endpoints; but the straight line
may be produced (extended) beyond these endpoints, as far as desired.

 E. Notes on Greek mathematics


F. The Greek Alphabet
I have heard a rumor (see p. ) that students can improve their mathe-
matics simply by learning this alphabet.

Αα alpha Ιι iota Ρρ rho


Ββ beta Κκ kappa Σ σv,ς sigma
Γγ gamma Λλ lambda Ττ tau
Δδ delta Μμ mu Υυ upsilon
Εε epsilon Νν nu Φφ phi
Ζζ zeta Ξξ xi Χχ chi
Ηη ēta Οο omicron Ψψ psi
Θθ theta Ππ pi Ωω ōmega

Figure F.. The Greek alphabet

The first letter or two of the (Latin) name for a Greek letter provides a
transliteration for that letter. However, upsilon is also transliterated by
y. The diphthong αι often comes into English (via Latin) as ae, while οι
may come as oe. The second form of the small sigma is used at the ends
of words. In texts, the rough-breathing mark (῾) over an initial vowel
(or ρ) is transcribed as a preceeding (or following) h (as in ὁ ῥόμβος ho
rhombos ‘the rhombus’). The smooth-breathing mark (᾿) and the three
tonal accents (ά, ᾶ, ὰ) can be ignored. Especially in the dative case (the
Turkish -e hali), some long vowels may be given the iota subscript (ᾳ, ῃ,
ῳ), representing what was once a following iota (αι, ηι, ωι).


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