History Of Computing
A computer might be described with deceptive simplicity as “an apparatus that performs routine calculations automatically.” Such a definition would owe its deceptiveness to a naive and narrow view of calculation as a strictly mathematical process. In fact, calculation underlies many activities that are not normally thought of as mathematical. Walking across a room, for instance, requires many complex, albeitsubconscious, calculations. Computers, too, have proved capable of solving a vast array of problems, from balancing a checkbook to even—in the form of guidance systems for robots—walking across a room.
Before the true power of computing could be realized, therefore, the naive view of calculation had to be overcome. The inventors who laboured to bring the computer into the world had to learn that the thing they were inventing was not just a number cruncher, not merely a calculator. For example, they had to learn that it was not necessary to invent a new computer for every new calculation and that a computer could be designed to solve numerous problems, even problems not yet imagined when the computer was built. They also had to learn how to tell such a general problem-solving computer what problem to solve. In other words, they had to invent programming.
They had to solve all the heady problems of developing such a device, of implementing the design, of actually building the thing. The history of the solving of these problems is the history of the computer. That history is covered in this section, and links are provided to entries on many of the individuals and companies mentioned. In addition, see the articles computer science and supercomputer.
The earliest known calculating device is probably the abacus. It dates back at least to 1100 BCE and is still in use today, particularly in Asia. Now, as then, it typically consists of a rectangular frame with thin parallel rods strung with beads. Long before any systematic positional notation was adopted for the writing of numbers, the abacus assigned different units, or weights, to each rod. This scheme allowed a wide range of numbers to be represented by just a few beads and, together with the invention of zero in India, may have inspired the invention of the Hindu-Arabic number system. In any case, abacus beads can be readily manipulated to perform the common arithmetical operations—addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division—that are useful for commercial transactions and in bookkeeping.
The abacus is a digital device; that is, it represents values discretely. A bead is either in one predefined position or another, representing unambiguously, say, one or zero.
Analog calculators: from Napier’s logarithms to the slide rule
Calculating devices took a different turn when John Napier, a Scottish mathematician, published his discovery of logarithms in 1614. As any person can attest, adding two 10-digit numbers is much simpler than multiplying them together, and the transformation of a multiplication problem into an addition problem is exactly what logarithms enable. This simplification is possible because of the following logarithmic property: the logarithm of the product of two numbers is equal to the sum of the logarithms of the numbers. By 1624, tables with 14 significant digits were available for the logarithms of numbers from 1 to 20,000, and scientists quickly adopted the new labour-saving tool for tedious astronomical calculations.
Most significant for the development of computing, the transformation of multiplication into addition greatly simplified the possibility of mechanization. Analog calculating devices based on Napier’s logarithms—representing digital values with analogous physical lengths—soon appeared. In 1620 Edmund Gunter, the English mathematician who coined the terms cosine and cotangent, built a device for performing navigational calculations: the Gunter scale, or, as navigators simply called it, the gunter. About 1632 an English clergyman and mathematician named William Oughtred built the first slide rule, drawing on Napier’s ideas. That first slide rule was circular, but Oughtred also built the first rectangular one in 1633. The analog devices of Gunter and Oughtred had various advantages and disadvantages compared with digital devices such as the abacus. What is important is that the consequences of these design decisions were being tested in the real world.
Digital calculators: from the Calculating Clock to the Arithmometer
In 1623 the German astronomer and mathematician Wilhelm Schickard built the first calculator. He described it in a letter to his friend the astronomer Johannes Kepler, and in 1624 he wrote again to explain that a machine he had commissioned to be built for Kepler was, apparently along with the prototype, destroyed in a fire. He called it a Calculating Clock, which modern engineers have been able to reproduce from details in his letters. Even general knowledge of the clock had been temporarily lost when Schickard and his entire family perished during the Thirty Years’ War.
But Schickard may not have been the true inventor of the calculator. A century earlier, Leonardo da Vinci sketched plans for a calculator that were sufficiently complete and correct for modern engineers to build a calculator on their basis.
The first calculator or adding machine to be produced in any quantity and actually used was the Pascaline, or Arithmetic Machine, designed and built by the French mathematician-philosopher Blaise Pascal between 1642 and 1644. It could only do addition and subtraction, with numbers being entered by manipulating its dials. Pascal invented the machine for his father, a tax collector, so it was the first business machine too (if one does not count the abacus). He built 50 of them over the next 10 years.
In 1671 the German mathematician-philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz designed a calculating machine called the Step Reckoner. (It was first built in 1673.) The Step Reckoner expanded on Pascal’s ideas and did multiplication by repeated addition and shifting.
Leibniz was a strong advocate of the binary number system. Binary numbers are ideal for machines because they require only two digits, which can easily be represented by the on and off states of a switch. When computers became electronic, the binary system was particularly appropriate because an electrical circuit is either on or off. This meant that on could represent true, off could represent false, and the flow of current would directly represent the flow of logic.
Leibniz was prescient in seeing the appropriateness of the binary system in calculating machines, but his machine did not use it. Instead, the Step Reckoner represented numbers in decimal form, as positions on 10-position dials. Even decimal representation was not a given: in 1668 Samuel Morland invented an adding machine specialized for British money—a decidedly nondecimal system.
Pascal’s, Leibniz’s, and Morland’s devices were curiosities, but with the Industrial Revolution of the 18th century came a widespread need to perform repetitive operations efficiently. With other activities being mechanized, why not calculation? In 1820 Charles Xavier Thomas de Colmar of France effectively met this challenge when he built his Arithmometer, the first commercial mass-produced calculating device. It could perform addition, subtraction, multiplication, and, with some more elaborate user involvement, division. Based on Leibniz’s technology, it was extremely popular and sold for 90 years. In contrast to the modern calculator’s credit-card size, the Arithmometer was large enough to cover a desktop.
The Jacquard loom
Calculators such as the Arithmometer remained a fascination after 1820, and their potential for commercial use was well understood. Many other mechanical devices built during the 19th century also performed repetitive functions more or less automatically, but few had any application to computing. There was one major exception: the Jacquard loom, invented in 1804–05 by a French weaver, Joseph-Marie Jacquard.
The Jacquard loom was a marvel of the Industrial Revolution. A textile-weaving loom, it could also be called the first practical information-processing device. The loom worked by tugging various-coloured threads into patterns by means of an array of rods. By inserting a card punchedwith holes, an operator could control the motion of the rods and thereby alter the pattern of the weave. Moreover, the loom was equipped with a card-reading device that slipped a new card from a prepunched deck into place every time the shuttle was thrown, so that complex weaving patterns could be automated.
What was extraordinary about the device was that it transferred the design process from a labour-intensive weaving stage to a card-punching stage. Once the cards had been punched and assembled, the design was complete, and the loom implemented the design automatically. The Jacquard loom, therefore, could be said to be programmed for different patterns by these decks of punched cards.
For those intent on mechanizing calculations, the Jacquard loom provided important lessons: the sequence of operations that a machine performs could be controlled to make the machine do something quite different; a punched card could be used as a medium for directing the machine; and, most important, a device could be directed to perform different tasks by feeding it instructions in a sort of language—i.e., making the machine programmable.
It is not too great a stretch to say that, in the Jacquard loom, programming was invented before the computer. The close relationship between the device and the program became apparent some 20 years later, with Charles Babbage’s invention of the first computer.
The first computer
By the second decade of the 19th century, a number of ideas necessary for the invention of the computer were in the air. First, the potential benefits to scienceand industry of being able to automate routine calculations were appreciated, as they had not been a century earlier. Specific methods to make automated calculation more practical, such as doing multiplication by adding logarithms or by repeating addition, had been invented, and experience with both analog and digital devices had shown some of the benefits of each approach. The Jacquard loom (as described in the previous section, Computer precursors) had shown the benefits of directing a multipurpose device through coded instructions, and it had demonstrated how punched cards could be used to modify those instructions quickly and flexibly. It was a mathematical genius in England who began to put all these pieces together.
Charles Babbage was an English mathematician and inventor: he invented the cowcatcher, reformed the British postal system, and was a pioneer in the fields of operations research and actuarial science. It was Babbage who first suggested that the weather of years past could be read from tree rings. He also had a lifelong fascination with keys, ciphers, and mechanical dolls.
As a founding member of the Royal Astronomical Society, Babbage had seen a clear need to design and build a mechanical device that could automate long, tedious astronomical calculations. He began by writing a letter in 1822 to Sir Humphry Davy, president of the Royal Society, about the possibility of automating the constructionof mathematical tables—specifically, logarithm tables for use in navigation. He then wrote a paper, “On the Theoretical Principles of the Machinery for Calculating Tables,” which he read to the society later that year. (It won the Royal Society’s first Gold Medal in 1823.) Tables then in use often contained errors, which could be a life-and-death matter for sailors at sea, and Babbage argued that, by automating the production of the tables, he could assure their accuracy. Having gained support in the society for his Difference Engine, as he called it, Babbage next turned to the British government to fund development, obtaining one of the world’s first government grants for research and technological development.
Babbage approached the project very seriously: he hired a master machinist, set up a fireproof workshop, and built a dustproof environment for testing the device. Up until then calculations were rarely carried out to more than 6 digits; Babbage planned to produce 20- or 30-digit results routinely. The Difference Engine was a digital device: it operated on discrete digits rather than smooth quantities, and the digits were decimal (0–9), represented by positions on toothed wheels, rather than the binary digits that Leibniz favoured (but did not use). When one of the toothed wheels turned from 9 to 0, it caused the next wheel to advance one position, carrying the digit just as Leibniz’s Step Reckonercalculator had operated.
The Difference Engine was more than a simple calculator, however. It mechanized not just a single calculation but a whole series of calculations on a number of variables to solve a complex problem. It went far beyond calculators in other ways as well. Like modern computers, the Difference Engine had storage—that is, a place where data could be held temporarily for later processing—and it was designed to stamp its output into soft metal, which could later be used to produce a printing plate.
Nevertheless, the Difference Engine performed only one operation. The operator would set up all of its data registers with the original data, and then the single operation would be repeatedly applied to all of the registers, ultimately producing a solution. Still, in complexity and audacity of design, it dwarfed any calculating device then in existence.
The full engine, designed to be room-size, was never built, at least not by Babbage. Although he sporadically received several government grants—governments changed, funding often ran out, and he had to personally bear some of the financial costs—he was working at or near the tolerances of the construction methods of the day, and he ran into numerous construction difficulties. All design and construction ceased in 1833, when Joseph Clement, the machinist responsible for actually building the machine, refused to continue unless he was prepaid. (The completed portion of the Difference Engine is on permanent exhibition at the Science Museum in London.)
While working on the Difference Engine, Babbagebegan to imagine ways to improve it. Chiefly he thought about generalizing its operation so that it could perform other kinds of calculations. By the time the funding had run out in 1833, he had conceived of something far more revolutionary: a general-purpose computing machine called the Analytical Engine.
The Analytical Engine was to be a general-purpose, fully program-controlled, automatic mechanical digital computer. It would be able to perform any calculation set before it. Before Babbage there is no evidence that anyone had ever conceived of such a device, let alone attempted to build one. The machine was designed to consist of four components: the mill, the store, the reader, and the printer. These components are the essential components of every computer today. The mill was the calculating unit, analogous to the central processing unit (CPU) in a modern computer; the store was where data were held prior to processing, exactly analogous to memory and storage in today’s computers; and the reader and printer were the input and output devices.
As with the Difference Engine, the project was far more complex than anything theretofore built. The store was to be large enough to hold 1,000 50-digit numbers; this was larger than the storage capacity of any computer built before 1960. The machine was to be steam-driven and run by one attendant. The printing capability was also ambitious, as it had been for the Difference Engine: Babbage wanted to automate the process as much as possible, right up to producing printed tables of numbers.
The reader was another new feature of the Analytical Engine. Data (numbers) were to be entered on punched cards, using the card-reading technology of the Jacquard loom. Instructions were also to be entered on cards, another idea taken directly from Jacquard. The use of instruction cards would make it a programmable device and far more flexible than any machine then in existence. Another element of programmability was to be its ability to execute instructions in other than sequential order. It was to have a kind of decision-making ability in its conditional control transfer, also known as conditional branching, whereby it would be able to jump to a different instruction depending on the value of some data. This extremely powerful feature was missing in many of the early computers of the 20th century.
By most definitions, the Analytical Engine was a real computer as understood today—or would have been, had not Babbage run into implementation problems again. Actually building his ambitious design was judged infeasible given the current technology, and Babbage’s failure to generate the promised mathematical tables with his Difference Engine had dampened enthusiasm for further government funding. Indeed, it was apparent to the British government that Babbage was more interested in innovation than in constructing tables.
All the same, Babbage’s Analytical Engine was something new under the sun. Its most revolutionary feature was the ability to change its operation by changing the instructions on punched cards. Until this breakthrough, all the mechanical aids to calculation were merely calculators or, like the Difference Engine, glorified calculators. The Analytical Engine, although not actually completed, was the first machine that deserved to be called a computer.
Lady Lovelace, the first programmer
The distinction between calculator and computer, although clear to Babbage, was not apparent to most people in the early 19th century, even to the intellectually adventuresome visitors at Babbage’s soirees—with the exception of a young girl of unusual parentage and education.
Augusta Ada King, the countess of Lovelace, was the daughter of the poet Lord Byron and the mathematically inclined Anne Millbanke. One of her tutors was Augustus De Morgan, a famous mathematician and logician. Because Byron was involved in a notorious scandal at the time of her birth, Ada’s mother encouraged her mathematical and scientific interests, hoping to suppress any inclination to wildness she may have inherited from her father.
Toward that end, Lady Lovelace attended Babbage’s soirees and became fascinated with his Difference Engine. She also corresponded with him, asking pointed questions. It was his plan for the Analytical Engine that truly fired her imagination, however. In 1843, at age 27, she had come to understand it well enough to publish the definitive paper explaining the device and drawing the crucial distinction between this new thing and existing calculators. The Analytical Engine, she argued, went beyond the bounds of arithmetic. Because it operated on general symbols rather than on numbers, it established “a link…between the operations of matter and the abstract mental processes of the most abstract branch of mathematical science.” It was a physical device that was capable of operating in the realm of abstract thought.
Lady Lovelace rightly reported that this was not only something no one had built, it was something that no one before had even conceived. She went on to become the world’s only expert on the process of sequencing instructions on the punched cards that the Analytical Engine used; that is, she became the world’s first computer programmer.
One feature of the Analytical Engine was its ability to place numbers and instructions temporarily in its store and return them to its mill for processing at an appropriate time. This was accomplished by the proper sequencing of instructions and data in its reader, and the ability to reorder instructions and data gave the machine a flexibility and power that was hard to grasp. The first electronic digital computers of a century later lacked this ability. It was remarkable that a young scholar realized its importance in 1840, and it would be 100 years before anyone would understand it so well again. In the intervening century, attention would be diverted to the calculator and other business machines.