First issue of Nature
Nov 4, 1869
The Meeting of German Naturalists and Physicians at Innsbruck, Tyrol
Arch. Geikie
FROM the 18th to the 24th September last the little town of Innsbruck wore an air of unwonted bustle and excitement. Its population, already augmented by the usual throng of summer tourists, was swelled by the advent of somewhere about 800 additional visitors-professors, doctors, directors, men of all sciences, often with their wives and daughters, who had come from all parts of Germany to attend the forty-third Meeting of the German Naturalists and Physicians. These meetings resemble those of our own British Association, though they differ in several very characteristic respects. One of the first contrasts to strike an Englishman is the entire absence of private hospitality. Everybody, so far as we can learn, is in private lodgings or in a hotel; and there are no such things as dinner-parties. Although our own customs in these respects are certainly very pleasant, there can be no doubt that the German fashion leaves the visitors more freedom, and allows them much more opportunity of seeing and talking with the friends they most wish to meet. With us it is no easy matter to get together a party of chemists, or geologists, or physiologists, to hold a social gathering after the labours of the sections are over. We are all either staying with friends, or invited to dinner, or engaged in some way. But at the German meetings such social reunions are one of the distinguishing features. One o'clock in the day brings with it the necessity for dining, and numerous dinner parties are improvised there and then; friends of like tastes, who have not met perhaps for a year before, adjourn to a restauration or kaffee-haus, while eating the meal have a pleasant opportunity of comparing notes, and discussing questions which have in the interval arisen.
Another feature of contrast is in the length of time devoted to the sitting of the sections. At the British Association the sections open their sittings at eleven in the forenoon; and the work goes on steadily all day without intermission till four or five o'clock in the afternoon. But, in German, the sittings commence sometimes as early as 8 A.M., and are frequently over by ten or eleven o'clock, leaving the rest of the day for some short after-dinner excursion, or for general miscellaneous intercourse among the members. In fact, the German meetings are designed less for the purpose of bringing forward new scientific work, than with the view of affording to men of science opportunities of becoming personally acquainted with each other, and of discussing the value and bearing of recent contributions to knowledge. Hence, the papers which are brought before the sections, contain, to a large extent, outlines, summaries or notices of recent researches, and exhibitions of books, maps, memoirs, specimens, experiments, &c., which have recently attracted notice.
In our British Association gatherings, there is probably more hard work than in those of our German brethren, and I daresay there is as much opportunity for sociality as suits our national temperament. For our Association is meant, not merely to promote a friendly intercourse among scientific men, but to be a kind of propagandist for the advancement of science through the general community. So we make a compromise between sober, serious, hard work for science on the one hand, and unrestrained festivities on the other. The German meetings keep less prominently before them the scientific culture of the world outside, and aim rather at the strengthening of the hands of the individual worker.
From the papers read at the different sections; from the discussion which they elicited; and still more perhaps from the public addresses on subjects of general interest given to the whole assemble meeting; one could gather some suggestive traits of the present current of thought in at least one great section of the cultivated society of Germany. What specially struck me was the universal sway which the writings of Darwin now exercise over the German mind. You see it on every side, in private conversation, in printed papers, in all the many sections into which such a meeting as that at Innsbruck divides. Darwin's name is often mentioned, and always with the profoundest veneration. But even where no allusion is specially made to him, nay, even more markedly, where such allusion is absent, we see how thoroughly his doctrines have permeated the scientific mind even in those departments of knowledge, which might seem at first sight to be furthest from natural history. "You are still discussing in England," said a German friend to me, "whether or not the theory of Darwin can be true. We have got a long way beyond that here. His theory is now our common starting point. " And so, as far as my experience went, I found it.
But it is not merely in scientific circles that the influence of Darwin is felt and acknowledged. I do not think it is generally known in England, that three years ago, when after the disastrous war with Prussia, the Austrian Parliament had assembled to deliberate on the reconsolidation of the empire, a distinguished member of the Upper Chamber, Professor Rokitansky, began a great speech, with this sentence:- "The question we have first to consider is, Is Charles Darwin right or no? " Such a query would no doubt raise a smile in our eminently unspeculative houses of legislature. But surely never was higher compliment paid to a naturalist. A great empire lay in its direst hour of distress, and the form and method of its reconstruction was proposed to be decided by the truth or error of the theory of Darwin. "The two men," said one able physician of Vienna to me (himself, by the way, a North-German) , "who have most materially influenced German thought in this country are two Englishmen — George Combe and Charles Darwin."
There was another aspect of the tone of thought at Innsbruck, which could not but powerfully impress a Briton. Although we were assembled in the most ultra-Catholic province of Catholic Austria, there was the most unbridled freedom of expression on every subject.
In an address on recent scientific progress, Helmholtz thus expressed himself-"After centuries of stagnation physiology and medicine have entered upon a blooming development, and we may be proud that Germany has been especially the theatre of this progressa distinction for which she is indebted to the fact that among us, more than elswhere, there has prevailed a fearlessness as to the consequences of the wholly known Truth. There are also distinguished investigators in England and in France, who share in the full energy of the development of the sciences, but they must bow before the prejudices of society, and of the Church, and if they speak out openly, can do so only to the injury of their social influence. Germany has advanced more boldly. She has held the belief, which has never yet been belied, that the full Truth carried with it the cure for any injury or loss which may here and there result from partial knowledge. For this superiority she stands indebted to the stern and disinterested enthusiasm which, regardless alike of external advantages and of the opinions of society, has guided and animated her scientific men."
This liberty of expression, however, seemed sometimes apt to wear not a little the aspect of a mere wanton defiance of the popular creed. Yet it was always received with applause.
In an address on the recent progress of anthropology, Karl Vogt gave utterance to what in our country would be deemed profanity, such as no man, not even the most free-thinging, would venture publicly to express. Yet it was received, first with a burst of astonishment at its novelty and audacity, and then with cries of approval and much cheering. I listened for some voice of dissent, but could hear none. When the address, which was certainly very eloquent, came to an end, there arose such a prolonged thunder of applause as one never hears save after some favourite singer has just sung some wellknown air. It was a true and hearty encore. Again and again the bravos were renewed, and not until some litte time had elapsed could the next business of the meeting be taken up. Not far from where I was standing, sat a Franciscan monk, his tonsured head and pendent cowl being conspicuous among the black garments of the savans. He had come, I daresay, out of curiosity to hear what the naturalists had to say on a question that interested him. The language he heard could not but shock him, and the vociferation with which it was received must have furnished material for talk and reflection in the monastery.
