About History: Amazing early inventions II

Roman concrete

By rights the Pantheon in Rome should not exist, except that it does after more than 2,000 years. Given the technology of the time it should not have been possible for Roman engineers to have constructed such a perfect concrete dome spanning 43 metres, pierced by its great oculus or “eye”. Still standing two millennia after its concrete was first poured, it remains the largest unreinforced dome in the world. It is a structure that has resisted earthquakes, fires, the sack of Rome and centuries of use. Visitors to the Pantheon today can marvel at this example of architectural brilliance but few probably acknowledge the extraordinary role of Roman concrete.

Concrete itself was not a Roman discovery as there is evidence that Nabatean builders were using an early form of it as far back as 6,500 BC. The Roman innovation was adding pozzolana, a volcanic ash sourced from the Bay of Naples to a traditional lime and water mix. The additive created a durable hydraulic concrete with the unique property of setting underwater and the ability of growing stronger over time. The material is even able to “self-heal” when exposed to water.

Concrete was the foundation of an architectural revolution that meant Roman engineers were not bound by the limitations of cut stone. Its use led to impressive basilicas, amphitheatres such as the Colosseum, and monumental harbours and warehouses like those built in Ostia. Concrete allowed the construction of multi-floored insulae (apartment blocks) that housed tens of thousands of Rome’s inhabitants. It enabled the building of bridges across Europe’s rivers some of which are still in use today, and the vast network of aqueducts that kept the Empire’s citizens supplied with fresh water. 

Writing

Homo sapiens have walked this planet for some 300,000 years. In all those millennia humanity relied on the spoken word or pictograms to communicate and record thoughts, beliefs, ideas and histories. Such was the case until around 3200 BC when the first writing system emerged in ancient Sumer in Mesopotamia. From there the concept of writing spread over the world via a process German ethnologist and archaeologist Leo Frobenius called “cultural diffusion” [1]. The discovery of ancient Mesoamerican scripts, far distant from Middle Eastern sources, proved writing systems had been invented independently in at least five different times and places: Mesopotamia as mentioned, Egypt around 3250 BC, Micronesia in the 1800s BC, Shang Dynasty China around 1300 BC, and in Mesoamerica after 900 BC. Of these original writing systems, Egyptian and Sumerian are the oldest known (Regulski, 2016).

These new writing systems did not supplant oral traditions but did dramatically extend the reach of communication. Groups could record and disseminate their histories, knowledge, traditions, and laws which became fundamental to how communities understood themselves in time and place. According to associate professor of history at Duke University, Adriane Lentz-Smith: “Writing made societies easier to administrate over distance. For better or worse, it allowed the development of bureaucracy” (Lentz-Smith, 2026, 42). Moreover, the advent of the next amazing invention meant the written word could be circulated faster and further than ever before. Whole nations and global interests could now be governed from a single location.

Printing innovation

The sharing of written knowledge exploded with the invention of the printing press in AD 1440 by German goldsmith, Johannes Gutenberg. His design was modelled on the helical screw press used by ancient Roman wine and olive oil producers to crush grapes and olives. Moreover, Gutenberg’s printing press also used innovative moveable cast metal type, known as “sorts” [2], to represent individual letters or characters known in typesetting as glyphs [3]. When typesetting compositors combine sorts into lines of type to make up a “forme” secured in a “chase” from which a page is printed. Using moveable type sets meant Gutenberg presses could print up to 3,600 pages per day compared to 40 by hand-printing and a few by hand-copying.

A printing revolution ensued spreading from Gutenberg’s Mainz workshop to more than 200 European cities. Famously, it was William Caxton (born in Kent, England c. 1422; died in London in 1491) who first introduced the printing press to London. He had learned the art of printing in Köln (Cologne) where he lived from 1470 to the end of 1472. He set up a press in Brugge some time in 1474 where “The Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye”, the first book printed in English, was published in 1475. Caxton’s translation from the French of “The Game and Playe of the Chesse” (in which chess is treated as an allegory of life) was published a year later. He went on to print two or three other works in French while in Brugge, but toward the end of 1476 Caxton returned to England. He established his press at Westminster and devoted himself to writing and printing. The first dateable book printed in English, “Dictes and Sayenges of the Phylosophers”, appeared on November 18th, 1477.

Coinciding with a sharp rise in learning and literacy among the middle-classes, by AD 1500 more than 20 million books had been produced by the new printing presses. As demand for books increased, so did the printers’ output, which rose to an estimated 150-200 million copies during the 16th-century. Quite simply, traditional mediæval scribes could not have kept up with such a voracious demand.

Reforming practices

Arguably the greatest impact of the printing press was the democratisation of knowledge. Even more people had access to ideas and information previously denied them. Yet, while fuelling worthwhile debate, dissent also followed. German priest, theologian, author, hymnwriter, professor, and former Augustinian friar, Martin Luther (10 November 1483 – 18 February 1546) was the seminal figure of the Protestant Reformation. Ordained to the priesthood in 1507, Luther came to reject various teachings and practices of the Roman Catholic Church, in particular the view on indulgences [4] and papal authority. Luther initiated an international debate on these in works such as his “Ninety-five Theses” authored in 1517. From 1518 to 1520, some 300,000 copies of his tracts were printed and circulated widely across Europe, reaching France, England and Italy as early as 1519. The following year (1520) Pope Leo X demanded that Luther renounce all of his writings. Luther refused and was excommunicated from the Catholic Church in January 1521 (at the time of his death in 1546, his excommunication was still in effect). Later that year (1521), at the Diet of Worms, the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, condemned Luther as an outlaw. Regardless, Luther clearly made effective use of Gutenberg’s printing press to spread his views. He even switched from Latin to German in his writing to appeal to a broader readership. Between 1500 and 1530, Luther’s works represented one fifth of all materials printed in Germany, but more significantly demonstrated the power of the printed word to reach and influence a vast audience and spark Reformation.

Printers’ legacies

The development of printing has had other, perhaps less obvious, impacts. Several words and phrases are thought to have entered the English language from printing. For example, the terms “uppercase” and “lowercase” letters seemingly derive from printers storing type in shallow compartmentalised drawers called “type cases”. In most print shops, the majuscule (capital) letters were kept in a separate case typically positioned above the case containing the miniscule (“small”) letters. Hence, we refer to capital letters as “uppercase” and the smaller forms of the letters in the English alphabet as “lowercase”.

The metal sorts used in printing are cast as mirror images so that the resulting print will be the correct way round. In older type cases, lowercase p’s and q’s are in sections right next to each other and therefore were prone to getting mixed up. So, compositors in the print shop were encouraged to take care and “mind their p’s and q’s”, eventually leading to the phrase meaning to be on one’s best behaviour. Interestingly, several letters look like mirror images of each other but mixing them up was less likely. B’s and d’s, for example, may be mirror image letters but they are not kept side-by-side in type cases.

Limited supplies and storage space within a print shop often made it impractical to leave type set in its “forme” just in case a reprint was required. Yet, given the time and labour involved in setting type, especially if one considers the prospect of re-setting an entire book for a subsequent edition, it was sometimes worth the expense of using a “stereotype”. The process involved creating a mould, known as a “flong”, in papier mâché of already set type. A mixture of molten lead, antimony and tin was poured into the mould to cast the type as a single metal plate or “stereotype” that could be used for reprints. The original type set could then be taken apart and distributed for use in other jobs. The idea of printing many identical copies from a single plate of type was soon connected to the broader meaning “stereotype” describing individuals belonging to a single group as being effectively the same as one another.

Cliché is the French word for stereotype. The difference in this case is that rather than casting a whole plate of text, the French would cast frequently used phrases as a block that could be set in a forme alongside any other individual letters to save time. The word cliché is derived from the French verb “clicher” meaning “to click” and imitates the sound made when using stereotype plates in a method known as dabbing or abklatschen (“to tap”) in German. Phrases cast in this way were so frequently used that cliché become synonymous with its modern meaning.

The casting of printer’s stereotypes or clichés is believed to have given rise to the word “typecasting”. Once again the idea of printing multiple identical copies has been transferred to actors chosen for roles relying on their specific profile, particularly when they are picked for very similar roles time and again. In these instances, they are being typecast.

One last example is contested, but it may have had an origin in print shops. If someone is feeling unwell or ill-tempered, they might be described as “out of sorts”. As previously mentioned, individual characters or “glyphs” of cast metal type are called “sorts”. When typesetting, a compositor might run out of type part way through a job thus making them “out of sorts”. In such circumstances the compositor may well have felt fed up about it and it is therefore tempting to think that this could be the source of the phrase. According to the website Phrase Finder, however, the first known citation of “out of sorts” appears in “The Proverbs, Epigrams, and Miscellanies of John Heywood” dated to AD 1562. No mention is made to typesetting and it seems the phrase pre-dates the first use of the word “sorts” to mean blocks of type. So, it is safer to conclude that “sorts” is just a synonym for “spirits or health”. That said, an earlier citation may yet be discovered, especially given that Gutenberg invented movable type printing over a century earlier around AD 1440.

Da Vinci’s parachute

Forty-five years after Gutenberg introduced Europe to the printing press, in 1485 Leonardo da Vinci sketched the world’s first parachute in his work, the Codex Atlanticus. His design was for a pyramid-shaped canopy, approximately 12 braccia wide and 12 braccia tall [5], of sealed linen cloth stretched over a wooden frame. It seems Da Vinci’s vision was for a man to safely descend from any height providing the parachute was properly constructed. Unlike modern round parachutes, da Vinci’s version was rigid and structured to rely on air resistance to slow descent. There is no evidence that he ever built or tested his design, but centuries later da Vinci’s parachute was successfully tested to prove it was practicable. British balloonist Adrian Nicholas built a parachute of wood and canvas to the artist’s specifications. On June 26th, 2000 he was hoisted by a hot-air balloon to an altitude of 3,000 m (10,000 ft) and then released. Nicholas slowly and gently floated downward beneath da Vinci’s parachute thereby disproving predictions that the structure would not keep a man aloft. With the parachute weighing some 84 kg (185 lbs) there were concerns that it would crash down on top of Nicholas upon landing. To avoid injury, Nicholas cut away from the da Vinci parachute at 600 m (2,000 ft) and used a conventional parachute for the remaining, safe, descent.

Da Vinci’s flying machines

It is evident from his work that da Vinci’s approach to science was observational. He tried to understand phenomena through detailed description and depiction but not necessarily through experiments or theoretical explanation. The parachute was just one of the flying machines stemming from da Vinci’s fascination with the phenomenon of flight. Surviving to us are his many studies, including Codex on the Flight of Birds (c. 1505), as well as plans for several flying machines, such as a glider (below left & middle), the flapping Ornithopter [6], and one with a helical rotor (below right). 

Da Vinci is known to have studied the methods by which birds kept themselves airborne. He developed an in-depth understanding of bird flight, leaving behind a huge number of sketches, notes and musings about their behaviour. Da Vinci’s drawing of the Ornithopter (pictured right) conceived human flight inspired by his copious observations. The design had the pilot lying prone while operating a complex system of pedals and pulleys to flap the wings and adjust the tail. His engineering solution attempted to scale up the natural strength of humans to generate sufficient lift for take-off and sustained flight. After several attempts at re-creating the flapping action of birds, da Vinci concluded that his design could not generate enough power or lift to overcome the weight of a pilot and achieve flight. While practically impossible, given the machine’s size and weight, the ornithopter nonetheless remains a brilliant conceptual exercise and an innovative leap of imagination far ahead of its time.

Once it became clear that the ornithopter was doomed to failure, and probably injury in any testing scenarios, da Vinci reverted to his studies of the most efficient form of bird flight, i.e. gliding through the air. He quickly realised that fixed-wing gliders were more likely to succeed in keeping a moving object off the ground. Even so, da Vinci’s alternative approach was still constrained by the materials of the period being far heavier than those available today. Even so, da Vinci pioneering observations on aerodynamics recognised the importance of airflow both over and under wings to create lift. He identified vortices formed by wing movement, a concept still relevant to aerospace engineering today, and noted the role of a bird’s “thumbs”, or alulae, in controlling descent and ascent. Da Vinci’s work demonstrated a deep understanding of the physics involved that paved the way for later advances in flight mechanics (Bianchi, 2026).

Da Vinci’s tank 

More correctly termed an armoured fighting vehicle, the concept of da Vinci's Tank first appeared a letter to his patron, Ludovico Sforza, the Duke of Milan. Written around 1482 as part of his Codex Atlanticus, da Vinci proposed:

“I will make protected wagons, reliable and impregnable, which, piercing the enemy’s ranks with the fire of their artillery, will destroy him, no matter how great the number of his soldiers. The infantry can follow without suffering great losses and without encountering any resistance.”

The resulting design, inspired by a turtle’s shell, incorporated a conical cover made of wood reinforced with metal plates. The angled cover was intended to deflect enemy fire in much the same way as modern sloped armour. Da Vinci envisioned the machine would be driven by two large cranks, operated internally by four strong men, powering two wheels each connected by an axle. The circular fighting vehicle would be equipped with an array of light cannons spaced around its circumference.

Study of da Vinci’s sketches revealed a flaw in the gear design, which would cause both wheels to rotate in opposing directions rendering the machine inoperable. This error has been described as a deliberate security feature should the design be stolen or because of da Vinci’s mirror writing style that appears in his other designs. The superb 3D model by Ľuboš Černák, shown right, was created in 2022 according to da Vinci’s original drawing. The model emphasizes the machine’s proportions but also illustrates the flawed gearing design alongside three possible solutions to the problem. During one episode of the US documentary series “Da Vinci's Machines” (2009), a team of engineers and craftsmen undertook the challenge of reconstructing Leonardo’s armoured vehicle. During the build the flawed gearing design was corrected enabling the team to successfully operate and move the machine. From the vehicle’s impressive size, it was clear that it would not have been capable of moving across rugged terrain. Moreover, while it would not have been possible to realise da Vinci’s idea in the 15th-century, the reconstruction validated his innovative thinking.

Bon appétit!

References:

Bianchi, L. (2026), “Leonardo da Vinci Glider: Could It Really Fly?”, Leonardo da Vinci Inventions and Experiences, available online (accessed 18th June 2026).

Borman, T, (2026), “Ask the Experts: The printing press”, in History Extra Magazine (April 2026), London: Immediate Media Company, p.44.

Gurney, T. (2023), “Leonardo da Vinci”, https://www.thehistoryofart.org, available online (accessed 14th May 2026).

Lentz-Smith, A, (2026), “Ask the Experts: Writing”, in History Extra Magazine (April 2026), London: Immediate Media Company, p.42.

Regulski, I., (2016), “The Origins and Early Development of Writing in Egypt”, available on-line (accessed 16th June 2026).

Venner, J, (2026), “Ask the Experts: Roman concrete”, in History Extra Magazine (April 2026), London: Immediate Media Company, p.42.

Endnotes:

1. In his 1897/98 publication “Der westafrikanische Kulturkreis”, Leo Frobenius conceptualised “cultural diffusion” as the spread of cultural ideas, styles, religions, technologies, languages between individuals, whether within a single culture or from one culture to another.

2. In physical typesetting, a sort or type is a block with a typographic character etched on it that are used, when lined up with others, to print text. In movable-type printing, the sort or type is cast from a matrix mould and assembled by hand with other sorts bearing additional characters into lines of type to make up a form, from which a page is printed.

3. A glyph is any kind of purposeful mark. In typography, a glyph is “the specific shape, design, or representation of a character.” It is a particular graphical representation, in a particular typeface (in computing, a font), of an element of written language.

4. The remission of the temporal punishment of sin.

5. The term braccia refers to an Italian unit of measurement derived from the length of a man’s arm that could vary between 318 mm and 991 mm (15 in and 39 in). Historically, braccia were used to measure cloth as well as other items. Interestingly, in 18th-century Milan one braccio was redefined as one metre and is only 90 mm shorter than the modern SI unit.

6. From the ancient Greek ὄρνις (órnis) meaning “bird” and πτερόν (pterón) or “wing”, an ornithopter is an aircraft that flies by flapping its wings. Designers like da Vinci sought to imitate the flapping-wing flight of birds, bats, and insects.

About History: Amazing early inventions

What follows was inspired by a short piece in BBC History Magazine that drew Tastes Of History’s attention to discovering some of the amazing inventions that seemed far ahead of their time. Some were so advanced in their conception that scholars today doubt whether they could have been realised given the technology of the time. Even so, each of these ancient inventions shows a marvel of human ingenuity and have since inspired modern recreations testing their plausibility. This first outing looks at some of the notable ancient Greek inventions.

Steam-power

In the 4th-century BC, a Greek inventor reportedly built a wooden, steam-propelled flying pigeon. Working in Tarentum (modern Taranto), the mathematician and Pythagorean philosopher Archytas of Tarentum [1] created a bird-shaped machine reputedly able to travel up to 200 metres through the air to the astonishment of his fellow citizens. However, the sole mention of this feat occurs some five centuries after Archytas, when Roman author and grammarian Aulus Gellius reports:

“Archytas made a wooden model of a dove with such mechanical ingenuity and art that it flew; so nicely balanced was it, you see, with weights and moved by a current of air enclosed and hidden within it. About so improbable a story I prefer to give Favorinus’ own words: ‘Archytas the Tarentine, being in other lines also a mechanician, made a flying dove out of wood. Whenever it lit, it did not rise again.’”

Clearly Gellius views the report with much the same scepticism as his mentor Favorinus, but that has not stopped later historians and engineers attempting to recreate Archytus’ mechanical marvel. From the available sources, it is thought the lightweight body of the Flying Pigeon was cylindrical in shape and hollow, with wings projecting to either side and smaller wings, like a tail, to the rear. The front of the Pigeon was pointed like a bird’s beak which, combined with its cylindrical body, produced an aerodynamic form to maximise flying distance and speed. The rear of the Flying Pigeon had an opening leading to an internal bladder. The opening was connected to a water-filled, airtight boiler which when heated generated steam that fed into the bird’s bladder. As the pressure of the steam exceeded the mechanical resistance of the connection, the Flying Pigeon was launched. The opening, now acting as an exhaust, allowed the pressurised steam within the bladder to vented out propelling the Pigeon in flight. Reputedly, the wings of the pigeon would flap, assisting its forward motion and keeping it aloft. In this manner the Flying Pigeon was said to have been capable of steam-powered flight for a considerable distance, between 100 to 200 metres.

Archytas would have faced many challenges when designing the first mechanical bird, not least of which was understanding how birds fly. Combine that with engineering knowledge in its infancy, lightweight metal alloys, plastics, and strong adhesives yet to be invented, and the ancient bird’s durability and flight capability could never compare to modern reproductions. Even so, the Kotsanas Museum of Ancient Greek Technology used the materials technology available to Archytas to create a reconstruction (below) of what the flying pigeon may have looked like.

If the accounts of this invention by Aulus Gellius are correct, then this would have been the world’s first self-propelled flying device. While a remarkable achievement, throughout human history there have been many accounts of amazing inventions attributed to some of the greatest thinkers. The question remains “just how many were actually made or were indeed functional?” It would be a lengthy project to try and cover all the possible examples from all recorded history across the globe. Many of these inventions deserve their own detailed examination, but for now we shall focus on just a few.

From the outset it is worth noting that for an invention to materialise takes three linked requirements: firstly, someone must have the initial idea, then there must be the materials technology available to realise the idea, and finally there must be a need for the invention to be successful. Take human flight as an example of the materials technology challenge. It is highly likely that humans, observing birds in flight, dreamed of copying them. As we have seen with Archytas’ Flying Pigeon, the idea was present but the problem for the longest time was the materials technology to deliver the design.

We need a Hero

Archytas’ attempts to harness steam-power roughly 500 years earlier clearly inspired one Hero (or Heron) of Alexandria ((Ήρων ο Αλεξανδρεύς, ca. AD 10 to AD 70). He was a Greco-Egyptian mathematician and inventor residing in Roman Egypt whose contributions to science and engineering, particularly his pioneering work on pneumatics and mechanics, influenced Islamic engineers during the Golden Age of Islam, as well as Renaissance thinkers who revived and expanded upon ancient Greek scientific knowledge. Hero is credited with inventing at least one automated vending machine and complex automata that used gears, pulleys, and hydraulics to animate figures during theatrical performances. He also harnessed air pressure to create a sophisticated wind-powered organ, created the pantograph, and contrived a steam-powered engine known today as the “aeolipile” or “Hero-Engine”. Recorded simply as invention “number 50”, it was an early steam-powered device that harnessed the principles of jet propulsion centuries ahead of its time.

Reconstructions of the aeolipile usually consist of a spherical or cylindrical vessel with oppositely bent or curved nozzles projecting outwards. Hero described the device as a simple boiler forming part of a stand for the rotating vessel. Water is heated in the boiler to vaporise it into steam that passes through tubes to pressurise the spherical vessel. The steam is expelled out of the opposing nozzles to generate thrust perpendicular to the axis of the vessel’s bearings causing it to spin. Aerodynamic drag and frictional forces in the bearings build quickly with increasing rotational speed (rpm) but this consumes the accelerating torque, eventually cancelling it to achieve a steady state speed.

Although considered to be the first recorded steam engine or reaction steam turbine, the aeolipile was neither a practical source of power nor a direct predecessor of the type of steam engine invented during the Industrial Revolution. Heron’s drawing shows a standalone device presumably intended as a “temple wonder” like many of the other inventions described in his work “Pneumatica”. So, despite conceiving the idea, realising it using contemporary materials technology, the aeolipile is a perfect example of the third factor in defining whether an invention will be successful. At the time of its creation, the Hero-engine simply did not solve a contemporary problem or fulfil a specific need.

“Doors to automatic”

It is not known whether Hero’s invention “number 37” was implemented but it was the first to describe temple doors that opened automatically when a alter fire is lit and closed again when the fire is extinguished. As shown in the superb animated graphic by artefacts-berlin.de, heat from a fire burning in an altar in front of the temple would build pressure in the vessel below ground. As the pressure increased, the liquid within the vessel, most likely water, would be forced through a connecting hose or pipe into a second vessel suspended from the ceiling. As the weight of the second vessel increased, ropes attached between it and the doorposts would “magically” pull the temple doors open. By extinguishing the fire, the cooling liquid would be sucked back into the first vessel making the second one lighter such that the counterweight would pull in the other direction to close the doors.

Another temple commission

Hero was also commissioned by an Egyptian temple to make the world’s first coin-operated vending machine to dispense holy water. When a worshiper inserted a coin through a slot in the device, it would fall onto a pan connected to a lever balanced on a guide. The coin’s weight caused the lever to tilt, raising the opposite end and opening a valve to allow a specific amount of holy water to flow from a cistern. The pan continued to move under the weight of the coin until, eventually, the coin slid off into a collection chamber. At that point the lever would return to its initial position closing the valve and stopping the water flow.

Water, water everywhere

Hero was not the only ancient inventor to conceive of water management devices. About 250 years earlier, in 234 BC, the Greek mathematician Archimedes first described a hydraulic device for lifting water during a visit to Egypt. Popularly called the “Archimedes’ screw”, this marvel of ancient engineering traces its roots to Hellenistic Egypt (332 BC to 30 BC) where the original design with spiral tubes wound around a rotating cylinder lifted water from the Nile River into irrigation ditches. Over time, the design was refined, such as incorporating a spiral groove into a solid wooden cylinder, which was then covered with boards or metal to enhance durability and efficiency. Today Archimedean screws are widely employed in irrigation and modern wastewater treatment. The device can also operate in reverse. When water enters from the top, the screw’s rotation can generate mechanical energy, making it suitable for hydroelectric power generation.

Although Archimedes did not claim to have invented the screw, it has become associated with his name from his detailed descriptions and applications of the device. Various other ancient Greek and Roman authors record the use of the Archimedes’ screw for various purposes including draining water, irrigating fields, and even removing bilge water from large ships. In his Bibliotheca Historica, Diodorus [2] describes its use for irrigation in the Nile Delta for nearby military camps and cities, and Vitruvius [3] details a wooden Archimedes’ screw with eight blades in his De Architectura, written between 27 BC and 22 BC. The earliest depiction of the water screw is a fresco at the villa Casa di P. Cornelius Teges in Pompeii dating earlier than AD 79.

The Archimedes’ screw is a simple yet ingenious design. It consists of a helical screw inside a hollow pipe. The bottom end of the screw is submerged in a water source, and when the screw is rotated, water is captured in the helical sections and pushed upward as the screw turns. This process continues until the water exits at a higher elevation. The design can function effectively even if the seal between the screw and the casing is not perfectly watertight. As long as the upward movement of water exceeds any leakage, the device remains efficient. Variants of the design include screws fused with their casings, where both rotate together, and those made of bronze or waterproofed with pitch to prevent leaks.

From its origins in Hellenistic Egypt to its modern applications in renewable energy, wastewater treatment, and industrial machinery, the Archimedes’ screw manifests the timeless principles of simplicity and functionality. The device’s influence and widespread use reflect the exchange of knowledge and technology between ancient civilizations. It exemplifies how ideas can be fostered, shared, adapted, and improved upon across cultures.

Archimedes goes to war

From peaceful purposes Archimedes is also credited with two surprising inventions with which to wage war. During the Siege of Syracuse (214 BC to 212 BC) he was instrumental in the defence of the city. Syracuse was an important city-state on the island of Sicily but, more importantly, it was allied with Carthage against Rome. Thus, during the Second Punic War (218–201 BC), Roman forces, under the command of General Marcus Claudius Marcellus, besieged the city to bring it under Roman control. Archimedes was tasked with devising defensive measures to protect Syracuse from the Roman fleet. His contributions included various war machines and innovations, the Claw of Archimedes being one of the most famous.

The Claw of Archimedes

Also known as the “Iron Hand”, the Claw was reputedly devised to defend the walled city of Syracuse against naval attacks. Its design and precisely how it worked is not fully understood since no contemporary descriptions or drawings have survived. Indeed, most information comes from later historical accounts, such as those by the Roman historians Polybius and Plutarch. They, however, describe the Claw as a large mechanical arm or crane, mounted on the walls of Syracuse, with a grappling hook or claw at one end. When a Roman ship approached, the Claw would be lowered to grab the vessel and the mechanism would then lift the ship partially out of the water, destabilising it and potentially capsizing it. Some accounts suggest that the Claw could also drop the ship suddenly, causing significant damage or even sinking it. Considerable loss was reportedly inflicted on the Roman fleet and, along with other war machines devised by Archimedes, a significant psychological, demoralizing impact was had on the Romans. The ability of these devices to cause unexpected damage and thwart naval attacks instilled fear and uncertainty among the attackers.

Archimedes’ Heat Ray

Archimedes’ “Heat Ray” is the second example of a weapon that he purportedly invented to defend the city of Syracuse. This “Death Ray”, as it is sometimes known, is described as a series of mirrors or polished shields arranged to concentrate sunlight onto a single point. By focusing intense sunlight onto the sails or hulls of enemy ships, the heat generated was supposedly sufficient to ignite the wood and cause the ships to catch fire. However, the device would have required maintaining precise alignment, a clear sunny day to produce intense, directed sunlight, and time to generate enough heat to ignite wood. The practicality of using such a device in a real battle situation, with moving targets and variable weather conditions, is highly questionable. The Syracusans, for example, would have had to adjust the mirrors to maintain focus on the target as the Roman ships approached. These technological challenges raise doubts on the plausibility of the concept.

The earliest mentions of the weapon come from later historical sources, such as the writings of the 2nd-century AD Roman historian Lucian [4], or Anthemius of Tralles who, around AD 500, mentions “burning glasses” as an Archimedean weapon. Significantly, these accounts were written centuries after the events described. Even Archimedes makes no mention of a “Heat Ray” in his surviving works. This lack of contemporary evidence has led many scholars to question the authenticity of later accounts and to doubt whether the “Heat Ray” even existed.

While the historical accuracy and feasibility of Archimedes’ invention are debated, it is still a fascinating example of ancient ingenuity and has, therefore, been a favourite subject of scientific experimentation. During the Renaissance a test was conducted by Comte de Buffon (circa 1747), documented in the paper titled ”Invention De Miroirs Ardens, Pour Brusler a Une Grande Distance”. Just over a century later and a similar experiment by John Scott was documented in an 1867 paper. In more modern times notable attempts have included:

• In 1973 a Greek engineer named Ioannis Sakkas conducted an experiment at the Skaramagas naval base outside Athens that showed the concept could work under ideal conditions. Seventy mirrors, each about 1.5 meters tall and with a copper coating, were held by Greek sailors and aimed at a plywood mock-up of a Roman warship some 50 m (160 ft) distant. When each mirror was aligned correctly, the focused sunlight managed to ignite the target within a few seconds. Sakkas was convinced that Archimedes could have used bronze mirrors to scupper the Roman fleet.

• Archimedes’ Heat Ray has featured three times on the US television show “Mythbusters”. Several experiments were conducted in 2004 for episode 5 of season 2 (“Ancient Death Ray”) to test the heat ray. These tests were unsuccessful, leading the team to classify the heat ray as a myth. A year later, a group of students from Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) carried out an experiment using 127 x 30 cm (1 ft) square mirror tiles, focused on a mock-up wooden ship at a range of around 30 m (100 ft). Flames broke out on a patch of the ship, but only after the sky had been cloudless and the ship had remained stationary for around ten minutes. Consequently, it was concluded that the device was a feasible weapon under certain conditions.

• In 2006 the MIT group repeated the experiment in episode 33of MythBusters season 4 (“Archimedes Death Ray”). This time the team used a wooden fishing boat in San Francisco as the target which again resulted in some charring and a small amount of flame. Once more the Heat Ray was placed in the category of “busted” (or failed) because of the length of time and the ideal weather conditions required for combustion to occur. Moreover, as Syracuse faces east towards the sea, for the weapon to have been successful, the Roman fleet could have only been engaged during the morning for the mirrors to gather the optimal sunlight. It is unlikely that any Roman general would have limited their attacks to favour the Syracusan’s defence. Besides conventional weaponry such as flaming arrows or bolts from catapults would have been a far easier way of setting a ship on fire at short distances. In December 2010, MythBusters again looked at the heat ray in episode 17 of season 8 (“President's Challenge”). Several more experiments were carried out, including a large-scale test with 500 schoolchildren aiming mirrors at a mock-up of a Roman sailing ship 120 m (400 ft) away. In all tests, the ship’s sail failed to reach the 210°C (410°F) temperature required to catch fire, and the verdict was again “busted”. The show concluded that a more likely effect of the mirrors would have been to blind, dazzle or distract a ship’s crew.

The Claw of Archimedes and the Heat Ray represent some of Archimedes’ many remarkable achievements in science, technology, and warfare in ancient times. Despite the lack of detailed contemporary records, the accounts of the Claw's effectiveness during the siege of Syracuse have contributed to the enduring legacy of Archimedes as a pioneering engineer and inventor. The Heat Ray remains a subject of fascination and debate, and whether it existed or not, it symbolises the blend of science and myth that characterises much of our understanding of ancient technology. The concept demonstrates an advanced understanding of optics and engineering in ancient Greece. Moreover, modern experiments suggest that, under ideal conditions, a heat ray could potentially work, although its practical application in ancient warfare is highly dubious. Even so, Archimedes’ work extended beyond military engineering. He made significant contributions to mathematics, physics, and engineering, including the principles of buoyancy (Archimedes’ principle), the concept of levers and, as we have seen, the Archimedean screw.

Antikythera mechanism

The Antikythera mechanism is an ancient Greek hand-powered, mechanical orrery (model of the Solar System). It is believed to be the oldest known example of an analogue computer possibly used to calculate and display information about astronomical phenomena. So far, the exact purpose of the Antikythera mechanism remains hypothetical, although the 37 meshing bronze gears identified in radiographic images speak of the object’s significance. No other geared mechanism of such complexity is known from the ancient world or indeed until medieval cathedral clocks were built a millennium later. Moreover, it is not known whether the bronze-geared technology and the advanced mechanical design skills involved in its construction were used for other applications within the Greco-Roman world. Regardless, the Antikythera mechanism remains unique in having the first known set of scientific dials or scales ever discovered.

The remains of this ancient “computer” are now on display in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. They were recovered in 1901 from the wreck of a trading ship that sank in the first half of the 1st-century BC near the island of Antikythera in the Mediterranean Sea. Its manufacture is currently dated to 100 BC, give or take 30 years, while its quality and complexity suggest it must have had as yet undiscovered antecedents during the Hellenistic period. Its construction relied on theories of astronomy and mathematics developed by Greek astronomers during the 2nd-century BC. In 2008, research by the Antikythera Mechanism Research Project suggested the concept for the mechanism may have originated in the colonies of Corinth and, since Syracuse was a colony of Corinth, implied a connection with the school of Archimedes. This was clearly the premise of the 2023 film “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny”.

The Antikythera mechanism was fabricated out of bronze sheet, and originally it would have been protected in a case about the size of a shoebox. The doors of the case and the faces of the mechanism are covered with Greek inscriptions, enough of which survive to indicate much of the device’s astronomical, or calendrical, purpose. It is believed that a hand-turned shaft (now lost) was connected by a crown gear to the main gear wheel (pictured right) that drove the further gear trains, with each revolution of the main gear wheel corresponding to one solar year. These 37 meshing bronze gears enable the mechanism to follow the movements of the Moon and the Sun through the zodiac, to predict eclipses and to model the irregular orbit of the Moon. Indeed, the drive train for the lunar position is extremely sophisticated, involving epicyclic gearing and a slot-and-pin mechanism to mimic subtle variations (known as the “first anomaly”) in the Moon’s motion across the sky. This motion was studied in the 2nd-century BC by astronomer Hipparchus of Rhodes, who may have been consulted in the machine’s construction.

On the front of the mechanism is a large dial with pointers for showing the position of the Sun and the Moon in the zodiac and a half-silvered ball for displaying lunar phases. Inscriptions imply that there may originally have been a display of the five classical planetary positions, most likely on the front face, but nearly all the relevant parts are missing. The inscriptions were further deciphered in 2016, revealing numbers connected with the synodic cycles of Venus and Saturn. A subsidiary four-year dial showed when the various Panhellenic games should take place, including the ancient Olympic Games. The large lower dial has a four-turn spiral with symbols to show months in which there was a likelihood of a solar or lunar eclipse, based on the 18.2 year astronomical cycle known to the Greeks from Babylonian sources.

Water clocks

Water clocks are some of the oldest inventions by which time can be measured by the regulated flow of liquid into (inflow type) or out from (outflow type) a vessel where the amount of liquid can then be measured. The simplest form of water clock, with a bowl-shaped outflow, existed in Babylon, Egypt, and Persia around the 16th-century BC. Other regions of the world, including India and China, also provide early evidence of water clocks, but the earliest dates are less certain. Water clocks known as klepsýdres (κλεψύδρες, sing. κλεψύδρα klepsýdra) were used in ancient Greece and in ancient Rome. The word comes from the Greek κλέπτω (kléptō, “steal”) +‎ ὕδωρ (húdōr, “water”), so “klepsýdra” translates literally as “water thief”.

A commonly used design was the simple outflow klepsýdra consisting of a small earthenware vessel with a hole in its side near the base. When unstopped, water drains out of the vessel at a rate determined by the hole diameter. Markings inside the container were used to indicate the passage of time. As the water leaves the vessel, an observer can see where the water is level in keeping with the lines and thus tell how much time has passed. Both the ancient Greeks and Romans used this type of klepsýdra to allocate periods of time to speakers in their courts. In important cases, such as when a person's life was at stake, it was filled completely, but for more minor cases, only partially. If proceedings were interrupted for any reason, for example to examine documents, the hole in the klepsýdra was stopped with wax until the speaker was able to resume his pleading. Given human nature, it would come as no surprise, as some scholars suspect, that klepsýdres may have been used to impose time limits on those visiting Athenian brothels. In Alexandria of the early 3rd-century BC, the Greek physician Herophilos employed a portable klepsýdra on his house visits to measure a patient’s pulse. As one of the earliest anatomists, from his knowledge through dissections of bodies Herophilus was able to deduce that veins carried only blood and, after studying blood flow, he was able to differentiate between arteries and veins. He also noticed the rhythmically pulsing of blood as it flowed through the arteries. He devised standards for measuring a patient’s pulse and used them as an aid in diagnosing sickness or disease. To measure said pulse, Herophilos is said to have made use of a water clock.

Between 270 BC and AD 500, Greek (Ctesibius, Hero of Alexandria, Archimedes) and Roman horologists and astronomers  developed ever more elaborate mechanised water clocks. The Greeks, for example, tackled the problem of the diminishing flow by introducing several types of the inflow klepsýdra. Alexandrian inventor and mathematician Ctesibius is credited as the first to incorporate gears and a dial indicator to automatically show the time. Not an easy feat as the duration of a day changed throughout the year according to the varying length of time between sunrise and sunset. Other innovative designs opened doors and windows to reveal figurines of people, and the 1st-century BC Roman engineer Vitruvius described early alarm clocks with bells, gongs or trumpets.

Summary

From Archytas to Hero and Archimedes, the ancient Greeks’ quest for knowledge was only limited by the materials technology of the day. They understood and harnessed the power of steam centuries before Thomas Savery invented a steam engine in 1648 that would evolve to power Britain’s Industrial Revolution. The ancients Greeks inventors were some of the first to conceive of vending machines, alarm clocks and water management systems that are still used today but which we, perhaps, take for granted. As Tastes Of History researched the topic it became quickly apparent that there were a multitude of other ancient and more modern devices, ideas and machines worthy of mention. We shall undoubtedly return to subject in the future. Bon appétit!

References:

Edwards, M. (2026), “Antikythera mechanism: ancient Greek mechanical device”, Britannica, available online (accessed 13 February 2026).

Greece High Definition, (2025), “The World’s First Coin-Operated Vending Machine: A Greek Marvel of Engineering”, greekhighdefinition.com, available online (accessed 4 February 2026).

Rennison, N. (2023), ‘Q&A: Bird-brained idea’, BBC History Magazine February 2023, p.43.

World History Edu (2024), “Archimedes’ Screw: History and Major Facts”, worldhistoryedu.com, available online (accessed 11 February 2026).

Endnotes:

1. Archytas was an ancient Greek philosopher, who was born in 428 BC in Tarentum, Magna Graecia, now southern Italy. In addition to being a philosopher, he was also a mathematician, astronomer, statesman, and strategos (“general”) for seven consecutive years defending Tarentum.

2. Diodorus Siculus (or Diodorus of Sicily) was an ancient Greek historian from Sicily in the 1st-century BC. He is known for writing the monumental universal history Bibliotheca Historica, in forty books, fifteen of which survive intact, between 60 BC and 30 BC.

3. Vitruvius (born c.  80–70 BC, died after c. 15 BC) was a Roman architect and engineer during the 1st-century BC, known for his multi-volume work titled De architectura.

4. Lucian of Samosata (Λουκιανὸς ὁ Σαμοσατεύς, c. AD 125 – after AD 180) was a Hellenized Syrian satirist, rhetorician and pamphleteer best known for his characteristic tongue-in-cheek style. This he frequently used to ridicule superstition, religious practices, and belief in the paranormal.

A Brief History of Food: The humble tin can

I wonder how many of us take the humble tin can for granted? Have you ever stopped to think of the origins of this omnipresent object as you toss another one into the recycling? As the name might imply, Tastes Of History spends a lot of time teaching history in primary schools across Great Britain. Our workshops from the Stone Age to World War 2 are also mirrored by our practical cooking demonstrations at historical events around the country. While talking with children and adults, either in school or at events, one can quickly realise that many of us are ignorant (in the true sense of the word) of the history of food and such mundane objects as, say, the tin can. Yet the story of the tin can is one of ingenuity and persistence. It has changed the way we eat, the way we shop, and the way we travel.

Amazingly the inventors had no idea how widespread their innovation would become. All they had set out to achieve was to solve an ages old problem – how to feed thousands of soldiers and sailors with nutritious, fresh food when on campaign or far from their nation's shores. Despite the military power available to the late 18th-century British, French and Dutch navies, the question of nourishment was exercising the minds of the warring admirals and solving the conundrum was becoming vital to national supremacy.

Military necessity  Over the centuries a seaman's diet, whether they were part of the crews of Sir Francis Drake or Admiral Horatio Nelson, hardly changed. Food stored onboard ship was meant to last many months, through damp, cold, and heat. Although 18th-century seafarers’ rations might sound less than appetising, by and large sailors were better fed than many in the labouring classes at home. Even so, the quality of provisions on board ships deteriorated quickly due to storage problems, a lack of proper ventilation, and poor drainage. Moreover, many ships' suppliers were dishonest and sent stores that were already rotten before they were taken on board. Fresh food was therefore eaten early in any sea voyage before it perished, became infested with maggots, or was eaten by rats. After that a sailor’s main rations were salted beef or pork, cheese, fish, ale and some form of long-lasting biscuits, known as ‘hard tack’ or ‘ship’s bread’, but the latter were often plagued with maggots and weevils, a type of beetle.

It was in Paris during the Napoleonic Wars (1803–1815), a series of conflicts fought between the First French Empire under Napoleon Bonaparte and various European coalitions, that a financial reward was offered to solve the French military’s supply problem. Enter Nicolas Appert, a confectioner from Massy, south of Paris, who devised a method of heating food in sealed glass jars and bottles placed in boiling water. In so doing Appert had invented, or perhaps stumbled upon, sterilisation decades before Louis Pasteur revealed to the world how heat killed bacteria. Appert’s use of glass, however, was somewhat impractical given its heavy, fragile nature and a tendency to explode under internal pressure. Even so, he is still known as the “father of canning” despite not being the first to use tin plate.

The French Ministry of the Interior awarded Appert 12,000 Francs (possibly at the personal behest of Napoleon) on the condition he made his discovery public. His findings were duly published in 1810 in “The Art of Preserving Animal and Vegetable Substances”. While Appert’s method was used by the French Navy, it was in England that his idea was fully exploited and improved. Within months, British merchant Peter Durand was granted a patent by King George III to preserve food using tinplated cans.

Patent zero  As a non-corrosive coating, tin was already being used to preserve steel and iron cooking utensils. Indeed, many antique or vintage copper pans are tinplated both to preserve them and prevent food being tainted by the metal. Durand's patent, however, records he was the first to sterilise food within a sealed tin container by placing it in cold water that was gradually brought to the boil at which point the lid was opened slightly before being sealed once again. Yet a close examination of Durand’s patent, held at the National Archives in London, reveals he was not the inventor of the tin can. The wording of the patent documents it was “an invention communicated to him by a certain foreigner residing abroad”. According to extensive research by Norman Cowell, a retired lecturer at Reading University’s department of food science and technology, that “foreigner” was another Frenchman, Philippe de Girard. He had been making regular visits to the Royal Society in London to test his canned foods on its members and had used Durand as an agent to patent his own idea. The record of this hitherto unknown arrangement was discovered in the Royal Society’s library in an archived diary, entitled CB/3/6, belonging to Sir Charles Blagden, a fellow of the Society. The entry for 28 January 1811 explicitly says it is Durand's patent in name only. So, it seems that two Frenchmen were ultimately responsible for inspiring an Englishman to patent what would become the ubiquitous tin can. But that is just the beginning because Durand sold the patent to one Bryan Donkin, a Northumbrian engineer, for £1,000. Then having pocketed a fee and securing an elevated place in history, Durand disappears from the story.

Commercial canning  Donkin, on the other hand, had a flair for innovation and for making his ideas profitable. He patented the first steel pen as an alternative to the quill, for example, and invented a device to measure the speed of machines. In 1811 after making a profit of £2,212 in his papermaking machine business Donkin, and his fellow collaborators John Hall and John Gamble, invested in a new interest - canning. The firm of Donkin, Hall and Gamble established a canning factory in Blue Anchor Lane in Bermondsey, adjacent to the earlier papermaking machine factory, where land was cheap but close to the River Thames docks. With Gamble leading the experiments and running of the factory to make tinned iron containers, it took a further two years to refine the preservation method for use on a commercial scale.

In April 1813, the Duke of Wellington, then Lord Wellesley, wrote to say how tasty he had found the firm's canned beef and recommended it be adopted by both the Army and the Navy. With such glowing praise, Donkin’s diary entry for Monday May 3rd records that he had begun preparations to supply the Britain’s Admiralty with what would be the world's first commercial cans of preserved food. By late spring 1813 the firm of Donkin, Hall and Gamble was appointing agents along the south coast to sell their preserved food to outbound ships, and it was around this time that the British Admiralty bought 156lb of Donkin's food to feed sick sailors in the mistaken belief that scurvy was due to over-reliance on salted meat. Despite this not being the case, the praise from seamen for this unexpected addition to their daily menu was warm and glowing, from every corner of the globe.

Just over one month later, and nine days after Wellington decisively beat the French at the Battle of Vitoria in Spain, Donkin and Gamble presented their beef to the Duke of Kent at Kensington Palace on June 3oth. Subsequently, the Duke of Kent's secretary Jon Parker wrote: “I am commanded by the Duke of Kent to acquaint you that his Royal Highness having procured introduction of some of your patent beef on the Duke of York's table, where it was tasted by the Queen [1], the Prince Regent and several distinguished personages and highly approved. He wishes you to furnish him with some of your printed papers in order that His Majesty and many other individuals may according to their wish expressed have an opportunity of further proving the merits of the things for general adoption.”

Furnished with royal approval, and with a network of agents based at key seaports to tout for custom from naval ships and merchants, Donkin, Hall and Gamble formally opened the first commercial canning factory in England. Inside the company’s first employees handcrafted sheets of tin plate into tin cans at the rate of about six an hour. These early cans ranged from 4 to 20 pounds in weight. The oldest survivor, measuring 14 cm (5.5 in) high and 18 cm (7 in) wide, can be found in the Science Museum in London. Filled with veal, it weighed a hefty 7 lbs when taken by Sir William Parry to explore the Northwest Passage. One 2½ year old can was opened by Sir Joseph Banks on behalf of the Royal Society. He declared the veal inside to be in “a perfect state of preservation”. Indeed, Banks went on to describe Donkin's work as “one of the most important discoveries of the age we live in”. On the back of such praise, business with the Admiralty took off. In 1814, the Admiralty’s order was for 2,939 lb but in 1821 that had grown to 9,000 lb. Filled with beef, mutton, carrots, parsnips and soup, the early tinned iron cans were destined for every corner of the British Empire, and with prices ranging from 8d/lb for carrots to 30d for roast beef, the company was soon making money.

Hall left the canning firm partnership in 1819, but the venture continued as Gamble and Company before eventually being acquired by Crosse & Blackwell. Nonetheless, the first steps had been taken towards realising the multi-billion pound business of today. When Gamble exhibited an array of canned foods at the Great Exhibition in 1851 to widespread approval, it must have seemed like the tin can's switch from military necessity to household must-have was only a matter of time. Yet, the road to success was nearly ruined by a meat scandal one year later that rocked public faith in tinned foods and threatened to end the fledgling canning industry.

Scandal  Donkin and Gamble had employed a quality assurance system where each can spent one month of incubation at 90°C to 110°C heat before distribution, but not every canning entrepreneur was quite so rigorous. In January 1852 a group of meat inspectors gathered at the Royal Clarence Victualling Yard in Portsmouth and proceeded to open 306 cans of meat destined for the Royal Navy. It was not until they opened the nineteenth can that they found one fit for human consumption. According to the Illustrated London News, the Yard’s stone floors had to be coated with chloride of lime to mask the stench of putrid beef. The inspectors fished out pieces of heart, the rotting tongues from a dog or sheep, offal, blood, a whole kidney “perfectly putrid”, ligaments and tendons and a mass of pulp. Some organs appeared to be from diseased animals. Two hundred and sixty-four cans were condemned to a watery grave, while the remaining 42 cans of untainted food were given to the poor. A nationwide inspection ordered by the Admiralty discovered similar situations at Navy depots across the country.

The rogue supplier in question was Stephan Goldner. He had won an Admiralty contract in 1845 by undercutting all rivals through employing cheap labour at his meat factory in what is now Romania. The contract grew significantly in 1847 when the Admiralty introduced preserved meat as a general ration one day a week. The following year, however, complaints began to trickle in from victualling yards in the UK and from British seamen around the world that other parts of animals were being found in canned meat. Despite this, Goldner was awarded another contract in 1850 albeit with a warning that his meat needed to be genuine. To meet the demand, he asked if he could increase the size of the cans, but failed to make certain the meat was properly cooked. There are varying reports on how much of Goldner's meat was thrown away - one said more than 600,000 lbs to the value of £6,691. Whatever the cost, Goldner was banned from ever supplying the Navy again, but the whole episode became a public relations disaster for canned food. Predictably a nervous public was reluctant to eat anything from a tin, with many believing that to do so risked food poisoning. Moreover, housewives seemingly wanted recognisable cuts of meat rather than the uncertainty of what might or might not have been in a can. All the bad publicity meant there was a real danger people would be put off for good, a threat that still lingered ten years after the Goldner scandal.

A campaign to promote the nutritional benefits of canned produce and restore public confidence began. It proved largely successful as it coincided with demands for better food to feed a growing urban population. Not only that but at about the same time canned food became more affordable to a larger number of people. The tin can's reputation was saved. By 1865 Britain’s first mechanised meat-canning factory was established, and by 1880 Britain was importing 16 million lb of canned meat. The global market for canned produce was rising exponentially helping to create sea, canal and rail transport connections worldwide.

Refinements  “Double seaming” was the next innovation to arrive in 1896. Two seaming rollers pressed two layers of material - one the lid and the other the wall of the can - to create an air-tight and contaminate free seal that ensured the can’s contents remained fresh. Very quickly household brands such as Bovril and Heinz capitalised on this and other technological developments leading to faster and more efficient canning.

The earliest Heinz baked beans had appeared in 1895 in the US, making their debut in London in 1901. Meanwhile Bovril became the main supplier of tinned food – especially “bully-beef” – to the British Army as an emergency ration during the Second Boer War (1890-1902). Alleviating the boredom of hardtack biscuits, bully-beef became a mainstay of the British Army right up until the Falklands War in 1982. Shortly afterward, from 1985 onward, field rations that had consisted almost exclusively of tinned products plus some sachets began to be replaced with pouches that were lighter and easier to pack, open and prepare.

Nothing lasts forever. The tin can’s post Second World War zenith has been further threatened in the latter half of the 20th-century by the introduction of packaging like the aforementioned pouches and cartons (for soups and drinks). These innovations have proved better suited for use with increasingly popular and affordable kitchen appliances such as refrigerators and freezers in the 1960s and microwaves in the 1980s. Although sales may have dipped due to the increased competition from a wider choice of products and packaging, the venerable tin can is certainly not about to disappear. Rather, it seems that 21st-century concerns over recycling and food packaging waste have worked to the can’s advantage. Today they are increasingly regarded as something easily recycled. Moreover, in the face of other natural and manmade threats, the can’s ruggedness and impermeability makes them an ideal choice for the stockpiling and distribution of food supplies for emergencies.

And the can opener?  Yet it is one thing solving the food preservation, storage and distribution problems when the canning innovators thought little about how to open their invention. The first tin cans had such thick walls they had to be hammered open. So, for decades a hammer and chisel, a military bayonet or a rock had to suffice. As with all technology as the manufacturing process evolved, however, can walls became thinner making it possible to invent dedicated can openers. Thus, some 45 years after the commercial tin can went into production, the first can opener was patented by Ezra Warner of Waterbury, Connecticut in 1858. Eight years later, in 1866, J. Osterhoudt patented a can with an integral key opener that is still found on sardine cans and those for corned beef (pictured above).

A classic  By the 1870s almost every middle-class kitchen had a can opener. The inventor of this oh so familiar household device was one William Lyman. His patented opener included a wheel that rolls and cuts around the rim of a can. In 1925 the Star Can Company of San Francisco improved Lyman's design by adding a serrated edge to the wheel. An electric version of the same type of can opener was first sold in December of 1931. Finally, some 28 years later, in 1959 Ermal Fraze invented the pop-top can (or easy-open can) in Kettering, Ohio.

So, the next time you open a can of food or drink, or discard one to be recycled, remember the humble tin can has had quite a history. Without them things would be very different, and far less convenient. Bon appétit!

References:

Bellis, M., (2019), “History of the Can and the Can Opener”, ThoughtCo 25 June 2024, Available online (accessed 3 October 2024).

Geoghegan, T., (2013), “The story of how the tin can nearly wasn't”, BBC News Magazine, Available online (accessed 3 October 2024).

Endnote:

1.  Queen Charlotte, wife and consort of King George III.