British and American Views of the German Menace in World War I

British and American Views of the German Menace in World War IAuthor(s): Lawrence BadashSource: Notes and Records of the Royal Society of London, Vol. 34, No. 1 (Jul., 1979), pp. 91-121Published by: The Royal SocietyStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/531515 .Accessed: 16/06/2014 11:21

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

The Royal Society is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Notes and Records ofthe Royal Society of London.

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 188.72.126.88 on Mon, 16 Jun 2014 11:21:49 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=rslhttp://www.jstor.org/stable/531515?origin=JSTOR-pdfhttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

9I

BRITISH AND AMERICAN VIEWS OF THE GERMAN MENACE IN WORLD WAR I

By LAWRENCE BADASH (I) Professor of History, University of California, Santa Barbara, U.S.A.

Scientists have long considered themselves a brotherhood working in the service of common human ideas

Niels Bohr (2)

AT a Symposium on the History of Nuclear Physics (3), the distinguished Caltech astrophysicist and recent president of the American Physical

Society, Willy Fowler, was asked to comment on the concept of internationalism in science. 'There are nationalistic tendencies, to be sure', he responded, 'but they are subordinated to scientists' love of travel'. By and large, nationalistic tendencies have been suppressed, if not in favour of hedonism, then surely in deference to hymns of praise to the brotherhood of science.

Isaac Newton's Second Rule of Reasoning in Philosophy may well be taken as the First Rule of the Internationality of Science:

Therefore to the same natural efects we must, as far as possible, assign the same causes. As to respiration in a man and in a beast; the descent of stones in Europe and in America; the light of our culinary fire and of the sun; the reflection of light in the earth and in the planets (4).

This new rule of internationality would hold that if nature knows no national boundaries, then its investigation should likewise be unencumbered. Among the corollaries of our new standard we may list the concepts that scientists of all nations will conceive their problems, pursue their investigations, and interpret their data in pretty much the same manner; that national characteristics play a minimal role in science; and that the lines of communication among scientists find borders irrelevant.

In more practical terms, internationalism in science is best expressed by co-operation, communication, and contact. For example, the eighteenth century Harvard Professor, John Winthrop, travelled across enemy lines during the French and Indian War to observe a transit of Venus in Newfoundland (5). Less than two decades later, in I779, Benjamin Franklin, Revolutionary Wartime Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States Congress at the


http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

92

Court of France, urged all American naval commanders not to obstruct Captain Cook's return from his voyage of exploration in the Pacific. Congress, however, less familiar with these civilized traditions of scientists, immediately repudiated the orders and directed that special care should be taken to seize Captain Cook (6). The experience of Humphry Davy presents another example of the way in which belligerents accorded safe passage to men of science, when in I813 he travelled to Napoleonic France to accept a medal for his electrical discoveries (7).

Later in the nineteenth century the evidence for internationalism in science became less personal and more institutional. International congresses flourished, scientists frequently published in foreign journals, students went abroad for advanced work, established scientists visited colleagues' laboratories, and national academies awarded medals and honorary memberships to foreigners. In certain areas this was far more than good fellowship; self-interest dictated

co-operation. Thus were founded the Potsdam Institute of Geodesy (I864), the Strasburg Institute for the Study of Earthquakes (1903), the Weights and Mea- sures Office in Sevres (I875), the Health Office in Paris (1893), the Institute for Marine Investigation in Copenhagen (I902), and the Institute of Agriculture in Rome (I905)-international organizations all, in fields requiring global investigation and co-operation (8).

All, however, was not idyllic as the nineteenth century wore on. National- ism in science did raise its banner every so often. Priority disputes, for example, frequently pitted nation against nation, as when the British and Germans each claimed the conception of Kirchhoff's radiation law (9). Warfare, too, engaged scientists' passions, for now the conflicts brutally involved entire populations and not just armies engaged in some far off field. In protest against the bom- bardment of Paris during the Franco-Prussian War, Louis Pasteur indignantly returned the honorary degree he had received from the University of Bonn (Io). And the thirst for honour, glory, or at least recognition moved nations to assert their 'rights', as when the Italian government in I9I2 refused to send delegates to any international congress where Italian was not specified an official language. (II).

Do these examples prove or disprove the existence of internationalism in science? Historians today and scientists of past generations have questioned whether there really was an international scientific community (I2), but the subject is not quantifiable for easy answer, nor was the situation constant in time. However, community is as much perception as construction, and since many articulate scientists perceived there to be an international alliance, despite



93

its flaws, I will join in this viewpoint (I3). The question to be addressed in this

paper is, therefore, in what ways was the concept of internationalism modified, rejected, or subverted during the hostilities of I914-I918? I am concerned far more with the effect of statements and actions upon the practice of internationalism, namely cooperation, communication, and contact, than whether the ideology of internationalism crumbled or survived (14).

THE ENEMY WITHIN

World War I was no different from many other conflicts in bringing out the best and the worst human characteristics. Scientists, allegedly immune from the excesses of emotionalism due to the objective nature of their pro- fession, nevertheless both performed conspicuous acts of heroism and dis- played the gross intolerance of nationalism. Hatred for the enemy is a natural phenomenon, affecting scientists as well as others. Hatred for one's own, based upon fear that perhaps they are not entirely one's own after all, is less defensible. Just as Japanese-Americans were interned in the United States during World War II, because of fears, not evidence, of disloyalty, Englishmen of German origin were a distrusted minority in the War to End All Wars.

In this prejudice the general public led men of science, but the latter were neither far behind nor (some of them) unwillingly swept along. London newspapers of October 1914 carried many stories of the 'Alien Danger', cautioning their readers to be vigilant against those possessing unregistered cameras and acting as couriers (s5). During the ensuing hysteria Englishmen of German birth or ancestry lost their jobs and saw their shops smashed (16). Nor was royalty exempted from these vicious rites of self-purification. First Sea Lord Prince Louis of Battenberg, primarily responsible for the British fleet's high state of preparedness in 1914, nevertheless resigned his position shortly after the outbreak of war. A British subject since the age of fourteen, he had been born in Austria and feared that public confidence in the Royal Navy might be diminished if he remained in office (I7). In 1917, Prince Louis, grandfather of the present Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, renounced his German titles and also changed his family name from Battenberg to Mount- batten. At the same time King George V changed the name of the royal house from Saxe-Coburg to Windsor (18).

Scientists were no less anxious to show their patriotism-or detect its deficiency in others. A. B. Basset noted that the Royal Society, of which he was a Fellow, was founded by Charles II 'for the benefit of British subjects'. Yet the Council, which decided upon the fifteen members admitted each year,



94

'regard the nationality of the candidate with profound indifference. The result', Basset complained, 'is that one of the secretaries is a German by birth, although possibly naturalised; another Fellow has three German Christian names and speaks English with a pronounced German accent; whilst a third Fellow retired some years ago to his native country and is now living in Cassel'.

While foreigners might aspire to foreign membership, he urged that the Royal Society remember that it is a British institution and 'sternly refuse to elect Germans or quasi-Germans to the Fellowship' (I9).

The eminent mathematical physicist, Joseph Larmor, a former Royal Society secretary, replied to Basset in the same forum: a letter to the editor of the Morning Post. The men in question, he maintained, were British subjects, with long and honourable careers in England, and two of them had sons serving in the British Army. Criticism of them was ungracious and ill-informed (20). Sir Oliver Lodge, one of the grand old men of British science, called upon the Council to ask for Basset's resignation (21), but Larmor's published letter was considered a sufficient reply (22). The episode in retrospect may seem trivial, but it symbolized both the increasingly personal attacks to come and the defense by the 'Establishment' of science of those persecuted. The power structure, which did not always win these encounters, may simply have been protecting its own past behaviour, but it seems that the national sense of justice, fair play and decency was far more its motivating force.

At the Royal Institution of London a similar drama unfolded. J. W. Gordon, a Member of the R.I., wrote to the Duke of Northumberland, its President, that in recent years the resident Director, James Dewar, had forced the resignation or dismissal of two officials of British birth and replaced them with men of German extraction. While it was possible that Dewar's quarrelsome temper was behind these actions, Gordon felt obliged to ask if the R.I. Managers had ascertained whether the Institution's building and laboratory were equipped for wireless or being used as arsenals for the enemy. Though the Managers resolved to take no notice of these insults and errors, meaning they would ignore Gordon, they did have the Criminal Investigation Division of Scotland Yard inspect the premises (23).

Gordon, however, a member of the bar, was inclined to press his adversary where he thought him weak. One of the two 'Germans' installed at Dewar's behest was Alexander Siemens, Secretary of the R.I., and a man whose poor command of English, Gordon claimed, was an affront to the members who attended meetings (24). While not as famous as his industrialist-inventor uncle



95

William, Alexander Siemens was a man of substance, having been President of both the Institution of Civil Engineers and the Institution of Electrical Engineers. He had been born in the Kingdom of Hanover of parents who were British subjects until Hanover was separated from the United Kingdom. London had been his home since I87I, he was naturalized in I878, and he had been a member of the R.I. for thirty-three years. The pressure upon him was so great, nonetheless, that he felt compelled to make a public statement of his history and loyalty. This was read at a monthly R.I. meeting early in 1915 and sent to The Times, but to no avail. Within weeks Siemens announced to the Managers that he felt it to be in the best interests of the R.I. for him not to accept re-nomination to the office of Secretary (25). Despite support by the organization's leadership, rank and file opposition to this 'foreigner' was implacable and powerful enough to force him to step aside.

Indeed, stepping aside was recommended behaviour for 'German and Austrian' officers of societies, while ordinary members of like origin were asked to absent themselves from meetings so as not to inhibit the attendance and submission of papers by other members more equal than they (26). In such fashion Hugo Miiller, a former President of the Chemical Society resident in England since 1854 and married to an Englishwoman, withdrew from the Chemical Society and resigned his twenty-five year treasurership of the Lawes Agricultural Trust. For such noble behaviour he was called a 'considerate German' (27). When the United States entered World War I its scientists also found themselves concerned with the ancestry, pacifism, and enthusiasm for the war effort of their American colleagues (28).

These problems, frustrating to those on both sides of the Atlantic and both sides of the issue, and diverting time and effort that could better have been spent combatting the common enemy, were nowhere more concentrated than around the head of Arthur Schuster. One of England's most prominent physicists, he had been born in Frankfurt. When this free city was annexed by Prussia, the prosperous family textile business was moved to Manchester. Schuster, a resident of Britain's industrial midlands since I870, had been a student and ultimately professor at Owens College, the predecessor of Man- chester University. Under him the physics department became one of the country's best, such that when he retired early, in I907, Erest Rutherford was willing to succeed him (29).

Retirement from his chair by no means meant the end of Schuster's pro- fessional career. He was elected Secretary of the Royal Society in I912, and was thus, the 'German' criticized in Basset's letter above. This episode was preceded



96

by the embarrassment of having the police confiscate the wireless apparatus he installed at his London suburban home to receive time signals from the Conti- nent for his meteorological and solar observations. The local authorities feared the set's capability of receiving messages from Berlin (30), though this pre- cautionary action seems not to have been limited to Englishmen of German origin (3I). Such news made headlines as far away as St Petersburg (32), and moved the Royal Society Council to send a resolution of confidence in Schus- ter's loyalty to various foreign academies and individuals (33).

In the following year, 1915, an event occurred that customarily would have involved only honour and pleasure: Schuster was elected President of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, for the annual meeting scheduled in his home city of Manchester. Instead, it was a year of frustration and bitterness. He had offered, in October 1914, to step aside if a significant number of members wished it, but it had to be decided before the announce- ment of his election was released to the press, for he would not have his with- drawal taken to mean that he was 'afraid of facing any unpleasantness that might arise' (34). The B.A. Council apparently convinced him to accept the office, but Schuster was subjected to protests by his scientific colleagues, attacks in the newspapers because of his German name, and a rumoured movement to dissuade attendance at the September meeting (35). Despite these hazards, some 1,200 people attended the meeting, Schuster's speech, though weakly delivered-he had just learned that his son was wounded in the Dardanelles campaign-was well received, and much praise was heaped upon him (36).

But the wireless confiscation and the B.A. presidency were only skirmishes in the four-year long battle to force Schuster from the Royal Society's secretary- ship. This project had the unyielding support of Henry Armstrong, a chemist and a significant figure in educational work who, through dint of longevity, was senior Fellow of the Royal Society. Armstrong, well known for cantan- kerous behaviour and as a man reluctant to accept twentieth-century science- he opposed the concept of radioactive transmutations in part because no one had ever seen atoms, and he urged a moratorium on atom-smashing attempts while more important research, hoof and mouth disease, for example, was carried out-constantly fought the power-structure of science and, conse- quently, was rarely invited into its councils. During World War I he was a prolific writer of letters to the editor, demanding reform of the Royal Society. In his opinion it was moving inadequately to furnish the government with scientific advice, not involving all the Fellows, enmeshed too much in secrecy,



97

possessed of a self-perpetuating leadership, and with a secretary whose German origins would prejudice the Society's relation with government and public (3 7).

In urging the more respected Larmor to organize opinion against the Royal Society leaders, Armstrong charged that the organization was 'in unimaginative German hands [Schuster] and that the President [J. J. Thomson] has sold himself to the money baggers . ..' (38). He was particularly frustrated that the Council would take no action on his proposals nor even initiate discussion at a meeting. The zoologist SirE. Ray Lankesterjoined him in feeling that Schuster 'ought out of consideration for his colleagues in the Society, to remove the ill feeling, which his presence evokes and the possible injury or at any rate arrogance to the Society by making a voluntary retirement' (39). Larmor apparently chose not to side with Armstrong, but others did, though not under his banner. H. H. Turner, the astronomer, and Charles Sherrington, the neurophysiologist, the latter a member of the Council, in late 1917 called for Schuster's resignation in a 'friendly' way, for the greater effectiveness of the

Society. Schuster had recently been re-elected-Armstrong failed to appear at the election meeting, and only seven votes were cast against Schuster (40)-and it was pointed out to him that he was now in a strong position to resign (4I).

Schuster, though acutely conscious of the difficulties he was causing, did not want to be pressured out dishonourably or by a tiny minority of the Fellows (42). Moreover, he was a man with a mission. Not only was he very active during the war years in Royal Society efforts to increase industrial

production of drugs, optical glass, and other commodities, he was the leader in Britain in planning for postwar scientific collaboration among the Allies. Undoubtedly, his position as Secretary of the Royal Society was in no small measure responsible for the influence he carried among foreign scientists. Nevertheless, he was willing not to stand for re-election in 1918, if the Council felt that his retirement would be in the best interests of the Society (43). This offer not only was not accepted, but the Council, following a staged procedure to place the responsibility upon itself, insisted that he not withdraw (44).

In this case the Establishment won, through the extensive use of evasive

parliamentary procedure and control of the Society's operations (45). No one

apparently doubted Schuster's loyalty or ability (46)-he served as Secretary from 1912 to 1919, and as Foreign Secretary I920-I924-but his opponents felt he held an inappropriate attitude. 'If he desire to be regarded as one of us', Armstrong argued, 'he should be the first to see that the position he has taken up is one which no Englishman, under parallel circumstances, would feel justified in retaining'. And in nationalistic tones that sound strikingly sinilar



98

to Nazi racial policies and Deutsche Physik of the I930's, Armstrong concluded 'that being of German birth and extraction, [Schuster] cannot have and exercise our English point of view. Our interests are therefore prejudiced by his attempt to represent us' (47). Hostility to Englishmen of German origin was not merely due to fear of their divided loyalties, or a desire to have the organization in question look completely patriotic before the public and government; there also existed a fundamental belief that people's attitudes and behaviour were conditioned by blood. Perhaps it is remarkable that the leaders of British science, at least when it came to individuals they knew and respected, resisted the hysteria so overwhelmingly and so successfully.

THE IMAGE OF GERMAN SCIENCE-AND ITS REFLECTION

Although the problem of the 'enemy within' was of serious domestic concern, major attention was, of course, focused upon the enemy abroad. The outbreak of war provided the occasion for numerous discussions of Germany's scientific strengths and weaknesses, and comparisons with them of the British condition. These evaluations were more often morale-building propaganda than analysis, yet they contained elements of truth and they were widely accepted as accurate. Whatever their veracity, however, they exhibited the breakdown of internationalism into nationalistic generalizations.

Before the guns of August opened fire a number of university people, including J. J. Thomson, issued a peace manifesto urging that Great Britain avoid war with Germany over the interests of Eastern European countries. 'We regard Germany as a nation leading the way in the Arts and Sciences', they wrote, and conflict in these circumstances, 'with a nation so near akin to our own, and with whom we have so much in common', would be 'a sin against civilization'! (48).

Yet once Germany invaded Belgium, just across the Channel, any sin to be found was placed on the Kaiser's shoulders. His country was seen to be schizophrenic:

Side by side with immense ability in creating and applying scientific knowledge we have an almost complete failure to recognize truth, honour, faith-keeping, and justice as the foundations of national greatness (49).

But some early critics were willing even to depreciate their science. Sir William Ramsay, while admitting that individual Germans had 'attained the highest eminence', found them to be but 'brilliant exceptions' to an otherwise rather unoriginal race. 'Their metier has been ... the exploitation of the inventions



99

and discoveries of others; and in this they are conspicuous'. In fact, he continued:

The aim of science is the acquisition of knowledge of the unknown; the aim of applied science, the bettering of the lot of the human race. German ideals are infinitely far removed from the conception of the true man of science; and the methods by which they propose to secure what they regard as the good of humanity are, to all right-thinking men, repugnant. These views are not confined to the Prussian ruling caste, although in it they find active expression: they are the soul of the people.

The entire nation, Ramsay argued, must be 'bled white'. 'Will the progress of science be thereby retarded?' He thought not. For:

The greatest advances in scientific thought have not been made by members of the German race; nor have the earlier applications of science had Ger- many for their origin. So far as we can see at present, the restriction of the Teutons will relieve the world from a deluge of mediocrity. Much of their previous reputation has been due to Hebrews resident among them; and we may safely trust that race to persist in vitality and intellectual activity (50).

Ramsay's judgments, intemperate as they may have been, characterized most subsequent 'analyses' by his countrymen. The editor of Nature emphasized that the decrease in German scientific originality during the past generation, in spite rf their productivity, was due to the heavy hand of military despotism. Yet Britain could not be complaisant, for 'in the design and manufacture of their war-material they have worked incessantly for years in their usual methodical manner, trusting rather to myriads of experiments than to the utilisation of original thought' (5I). E. Ray Lankester elaborated upon this. Though this area of science was not his own, he claimed that, with the exception of the work in spectrum analysis of the mid-nineteenth century, German contributions to physical science were minimal, especially during the reign of the present Kaiser. Their ability lay in adopting and adapting discoveries made elsewhere, particularly in cases where large profits were possible, as in the artificial synthesis of organic products such as indigo (52). But if the Germans were not original, theoretical wizards, neither should they be regarded as experimental experts. With dry understatement an obituary of Otto Sackur noted that he was blown to bits in Berlin while working with high explosives: 'Sackur was more distinguished as a theorist than as a practical worker' (53).



I00

These comments of 1914 were echoed in later years by Italian, American, and other English spokesman. The war, Sir James Crichton-Browne noted, 'would pull down from its pedestal and shatter for ever the notion of the German super-man in science, literature, art, of ingenuity created by German self-assertion, and supported by the effusive adulation of a few professors of our own, proud of a smattering of second-rate Teutonic learning' (54). Germans, however, were credited with writing the best expository works, though often to the point of minute and wearisome detail and an inability to see the forest for the trees. English treatises, by contrast, could be recognized by their 'good- natured and discursive tone', while the French adopted a 'form which is sometimes a little vague but always suggestive and elegant' (55). The Germans, moreover, were far more concerned with quantity than quality, and this

coupled with their stress on analysis and neglect of synthesis or proper per- spective, accounted for the notable deterioration of their scientific output (56).

Beyond the wave of name-calling, Englishmen looked more rationally at

Germany's capabilities-and their own. World War I was regarded as the first war in which pure and applied science played a significant role (57). Even more, it was a chemist's war. To be sure, there were important efforts in submarine, aircraft, and airship warfare, artillery sound-ranging, wireless, and medicine, but greater attention went to optical glass, drugs, dyes, explosives, poison gas, and other 'better things for better living through chemistry'. Much of the

impetus for manufacturing in this area resulted from the dismay experienced when Britain realized the extent of its dependence upon chemical imports from

Germany. German industry of all kinds had expanded rapidly since 1870, making that country's imperial aspirations possible, but the chemical industry was especially notable for employing so many highly educated workers. Holders of the Ph.D. degree, abundant in chemistry, knew what research meant.

They were symbolic of the experts found in all fields of endeavour, leading Lord Palmerston, even years earlier, to call Germany 'a country of damned

professors'. Through education and the application of science to industry, Germany had progressed far. Englishmen, on the other hand, preferred to run their plants on tradition and instinct, which worked well in the early stages of chemical industry, but were now woefully inadequate for the complex processes that depended so much on theory and laboratory research. Spokesmen repeatedly cited the need for expertise in the manufacture of synthetic organic products (such as artificial dyes, drugs, and perfumes), a field that partially originated in Great Britain (aniline dyes) but was captured almost entirely by Germany in the nineteenth century, when the English industrialists refused to



IOI

invest in research and the universities trained no chemists for such work. But scientists in 1915 were little encouraged to predict a changed future even though the government advanced a plan for 'British Dyes, Limited', which was intended to fill the void created by the interruption of trade with Germany. At the conclusion of debate in the House of Commons, the Parliamentary Secre- tary of the Board of Trade said that:

the man who was conversant with the science and practice of dye manufacture was unfit to go on the directorate, because, as he would know something of the business, the whole of the other directors, being but businessmen, would be in his hands.

This view was roundly condemned for its ludicrous suggestion that the 'first qualification of a director of a public company subsidized by the Government is that he must know nothing of the business in which that company proposes to engage', and throughout the war government and industry were urged to be more open to scientific advice, but one can see that the issue is unresolved even today when we phrase it as whether scientists should be on tap or on top (s8).

Yet in Germany they seemed to be both on top, on the boards of directors and as department heads, and on tap, throughout chemical plants. And their salaries were generous. This helped explain German domination of dye production (on which the British textile printing, paper, and paint industries were heavily dependent), fine chemicals, and heavy chemicals as well. Moreover, German universities and industry had strong connections, a practice that seemed acceptable to British professors of engineering but not of chemistry. British talk 'not only of holding her own in the war, but of beating [Germany] in the chemical industry', was therefore derided by one of the leaders of the German Bayer company.

She cannot do it, because the nation is incapable of the moral effort of taking up such an industry which implies study, concentration, patience, and fixing the eye on distant consequences, and not merely on the monetary result.

British chemists accepted the critique as an accurate description of past conditions, though not of the future. But they recognized that 'it is for us to reform ourselves; otherwise no relief can come' (59).

Though it is not clear to what extent help came from the United States and how significant the British bootstrap accomplishments really were, by the



102

war's end the latter were cause for much self-congratulation. Despite the 'minute attention to detail, coupled with the power of organisation and co- operation' that were allegedly 'antipathetic to the British character', England had become a larger producer of explosives, pharmaceuticals, and photo- graphic and other chemicals than Germany (60). How could this happen, especially when German chemical plants were supposed to be constructed of standardized pieces of equipment, such that stills, condensers, pressure vessels, filter presses, etc., could easily be disconnected from their civilian roles and reassembled for wartime production? The President of the Chemical Society, Sir William J. Pope, explained with an example. Mustard gas was

produced in Germany by a series of chemical reactions that were difficult to

accomplish, yielded intermediate products that were water-soluble when this was not a desirable characteristic, and were only about fifty per cent efficient. British chemists devised a new, simpler process that was over ninety-eight per cent efficient, cost about one-thirtieth that of the German gas, and by the time of the Armistice enabled the Allies to produce as much in one day as the Central Powers in a month. In short, 'the German chemical service was inefficient; the scientific chemists under its control were incompetent' (61).

Incompetent, inefficient, and, earlier, methodical, well-organized, un-

original borrowers, mediocre, discoveries due to Hebrews, productive, analytical-these were all terms used to characterize German basic and applied scientists. One other generalization remains, to account for the hostile behaviour of Germans in the last generation. Sir William Ramsay and his good friend in Baltimore, Ira Remsen, recalled with fondness their graduate studies in the

Germany of long ago. How had those warm, friendly people produced such barbarians? Ramsay found the answer. In Britain, he was told by a medical

colleague, the incidence of syphilis was less than half a per cent; in France it was about one and a half per cent, and in Germany eighty-five per cent.

While syphilitics often keep going and retain energy, they appear almost always to have a mental twist; they become abnormal in one way or another. So it comes to this: this is a war against syphilis. Extermination appears to me the only remedy; but impossible to apply (62).

TOUCHSTONES FOR BITTERNESS

In addition to the views presented above, which might inspire fear or contempt of German capabilities, but not hatred, there were specific reasons for anger. Many Allied scientists (and those of the Central Powers too) entered



I03

the war expecting to hold their enemy colleagues in respect, if not affection. Their error was soon apparent, due not only to events on the battle- field which shaped public opinion, but to activities within the scientific community itself.

In October 1914, ninety-three German professors and intellectuals issued a manifesto 'To The Civilized World'! The document disclaimed German responsibility for the war, for trespassing in neutral Belgium, for alleged brutality against Belgian citizens and cities. These denials were at such variance with the facts and perceptions of the situation that people in England, France, America, and elsewhere, were amazed to have intelligent and eminent men

sign such a document. Amazement quickly gave way to anger, anger that truth meant so little to these people, anger that they so easily had become apologists for German militarism, anger at this abdication of moral responsibility. The manifesto said nothing about science, and the great majority of its signers were artists, theologians, poets, jurists, historians, philosophers, and so on. But twenty-two natural scientists and medical men had given their names, and despite later explanations that some had never even seen the document before it was published, or they were pressured politically into signing, or it was misrepresented to them, or they adhered to it only as a symbol of support for the troops, their Allied colleagues considered this behaviour unforgivable. It was taken to be a rejection of the universality of science, for the signers were acquainted with the methods of analysis and investigation. More than anything else, the manifesto throughout the war provided a rallying point for bitter criticism by Allied scientists. The Germans had unwittingly united their

enemies-precisely the reverse of what the manifesto was intended to accomplish (63).

In Germany, G. F. Nicolai, professor of physiology at the University of Berlin, tried to mount a counter-manifesto urging an end to hostilities, but only Albert Einstein and one other signed it. The attempt was abandoned and Nicolai spent the next few years in prison (64). Such signs 'that not all German Pro- fessors agree in the views of the Pangermanists' were welcomed abroad (65), but too few were seen to have any impact. British scientists were more likely to feel that the outrageous criticism emanating from German scientific spokesmen reflected accurately the attitudes of virtually all their colleagues in that country. To the bombastic language of the infamous manifesto, however, they responded firmly and in carefully reasoned tones. Some one hundred and twenty scholars, including over thirty scientists, assured the German professors that sentiment in the British universities was thoroughly against them and that



I04

they supported their government's response to the invasion of Belgium. They noted sorrowfully that:

We ourselves have a real and deep admiration for German scholarship and science, We have many ties with Germany, ties of comradeship, of respect, and of affection. We grieve profoundly that, under the baleful influence of a military system and its lawless dreams of conquest, she whom we once honoured now stands revealed as the common enemy of Europe and of all peoples which respect the Law of Nations (66).

In a continuing deliberate effort to contrast their civilized behaviour with Germany's barbarism, the Royal Institution and the Royal Society ordered obituary notices to be written for their deceased German foreign members, including Paul Ehrlich and Adolph von Baeyer, who had signed the manifesto (67).

There were other German statements that the Allies received indignantly. A month after the shock of the manifesto, Wilhelm Ostwald claimed that:

Germany ... has attained a stage of civilization far higher than that of all other peoples. This war will in the future compel those other peoples to participate under the form of German social efficiency, in a civilization higher than their own ... the French and English have attained only the degree of cultural development which we ourselves left behind fifty years ago. You ask me what it is that Germany wants. Well, Germany wants to organize Europe, for up to now Europe has never been organized (68).

Clearly, Germany sought cultural domination, and science is part of culture. Ostwald's bald declaration of this, in fact, surprised no one. For years there had been concern in other countries, but it was largely inarticulate. The war removed whatever verbal reticence there was and nations of the Entente were warned that, just as they would later have to protect economies against the 'dumping' of German products, so too must they guard against the German practice, prevalent before the war, of 'scientific dumping'. 'The numberless Archivs, Jahrbiicher, Zeitschriften, Zentralbldtter, and so on, which' Eugenio Rignano, the editor of Scientia warned readers of Nature:

have been yearly increasing in number and volume, have gradually mono- polised the whole of the scientific production of the world by gathering widely, and even demanding, the collaboration of learned men of all countries. Thus were apparently built up international scientific organs, but in reality German instruments of control and monopoly of science (69).



Io5

Even the international organizations which had been headquartered in Germany came under suspicion, for it was alleged that they were used for spying, the goal being to promote Germany's leadership throughout the world (70).

The words ofPhilipp Lenard, immoderate as usual, further isolated German scientists from their Allied colleagues' goodwill. Though his work had been recognized by the British Royal Society's Rumford Medal and the Swedish Academy of Science's Nobel Prize, he felt that foreign scientists all too frequently ignored the priority of Germans, including himself. British scientists, especially, were criticized for claiming all discoveries to themselves, a practice aided and abetted by some Germans! Germans, Lenard intoned, 'Away with humility before the graves of Shakespeare, Newton, and Faraday! Indeed, present-day Englishmen are not of the same type; the souls of these great men have moved on to other countries' (7I). A German newspaper creatively credited him with saying:

Down, then, with all considerations for England's so-called culture. The central nest and supreme academy for all hypocrisy in the world, which is on the Thames, must be destroyed if the work is to be done thoroughly. No respect for the tombstones of Shakespeare, Newton, and Faraday! (72)

And this was modified by an equally creative Canadian: 'Let us never forget that it was a German professor of physics who deliberately declared that German aircraft must destroy the tombs of Newton and of Faraday' (73).

The question of priority arose in other places as well. The editors of the 1871 Catalogue of the Palaearctic Lepidoptera, it was charged by an eminent British entomologist, 'improperly but deliberately assigned [precedence] to German names in preference to earlier ones given by French authors' (74). 'Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour's landmarks', swore one scholar at this practice (75). The Germans, moreover, aggressively insisted that their nomenclature usage should receive universal sanction at prewar international congresses of zoology and entomology (76). On one occasion, piqued that a congress was not held in their country, the Germans stayed away (77). Such efforts to dominate the meetings were as much criticized as their intellectual dishonesty. Yet, despite the frequent claims that British ideas had been stolen, attempts at rectification were rare. In one the Bunsen burner was alleged to be not a German invention but the brainchild of R. M. Ferguson of Edinburgh, who took his doctorate at Heidelberg and named the burner after his professor as a compliment (78).

But of greater interest than events generations ago was the wartime be-



Io6

haviour of German scientists. Public statements from the enemy continued to inflame the Allies' anger, as when some one hundred and fifty young German scholars petitioned their government to renew unrestricted U-boat warfare in 1916 (79), and when German professors allegedly gloated over the sinking of the Lusitania (80). These actions were interpreted to show widespread approval of the Kaiser's policies among his scientists. Contempt for the Allies as well as

support for militarism was also clear in the rejection by well known Germans of honours received abroad. Wilhelm C. Rontgen, who shared the Royal Society's Rumford Medal with Lenard in I896, wished no longer to retain it and gave his award to the Red Cross (81). Such action was strongly criticized on both sides, with the Berlin astronomer W. Forster urging his countrymen not to separate themselves from the international intellectual community (82), and the London chemist William Ramsay arguing that 'it would be unworthy of the dignity of scientific men to imitate the example of some of the German

professors in "abandoning the distinctions conferred on them by English learned societies"'. Ramsay's point, based more on intuition than evidence, was not the value of internationalism in science, but that the honours in

question had been awarded by the older generation of German scientists, men who surely must deplore their nation's current behaviour (83).

Whether, in fact, there were many in Germany and Austria who criticized their countries' foreign policy-few were visible to the Allies-there were several acts of personal kindness that were appreciated. Robert Lawson, while working on radioactivity at the Vienna Radium Institute, was trapped by the war's outbreak. Rather than have him interned in a camp, the institute's director, Stefan Meyer, took personal responsibility for him, allowed him to continue research for the next four years, and even helped to support Lawson with his own funds (84). Additionally, the Austrian Academy of Sciences accepted his

papers without hesitation (85). James Chadwick did not fare as well. The war caught him in Berlin, in Hans Geiger's laboratory, and before long he was interned at Ruhleben. Though conditions were bleak, he was able to continue research in the camp, and on occasion was permitted to visit Rubens, Nernst, and Warburg, who all offered to lend him apparatus (86). Similar courtesies were extended in the reverse direction. War was declared just as the 1914 British Association's meeting opened in Australia. The B.A. officers decided that, as their several German guests were not personally responsible for the hostilities, they should be treated with all kindness during the meeting and then allowed to return home via a neutral country. Only Peter Pringsheim was interned because he was a reservist, and he too tried to keep up with physics



I07

in his camp (87). The exchange of letters and reprints further maintained personal friendship and respect across the battle lines (88).

However, these drops of humanity all but evaporated before the hot winds of Mars. Foreign secretary of the American National Academy of Sciences

George Ellery Hale felt that German men of science 'have been hypnotized into

supporting the murderous policy of their government' (89). Russell Chittenden of Yale was equally surprised: 'At first I could not believe that the reports coming to me were true, but it is now perfectly clear that the men of science ... have lost what I should call their scientific common sense' (9o). Although President Wilson attempted to distinguish between the German people and their government, Allied scientists saw but a homogeneous population. All Germans were convinced of the superiority of their culture, Hale contended, and this inevitably led to their desire for cultural domination (9I). William

Campbell, director of the Lick Observatory, pointed out that, with few

exceptions, German scientists, as civil servants, are members of their government and should not be exempt from criticism (92). Nor need Allied anger be based on perhaps so tenuous an association. German scientists were actively aiding their nation's policies. One particular perversion of science was attacked

by Jacques Loeb: the claim that a nation which does not go to war will lose its inherited 'virile virtues' was called 'an unproven and apparently false biological assumption' (93). 'Germany, the most scientific of nations', Campbell added:

has prostituted science to the base ambition of "Deutschland iiber Alles', not figuratively, but literally. Her ambitions in Weltpolitik have cost the world unthinkable quantities of human blood and human suffering, and science has been her principal weapon (94).

If science was Germany's principal weapon, where was its effect seen? The answer, overwhelmingly, is in the area of industrial production based upon applied science. British and American scientists appear to have been virtually unconcerned-not even curious-about novel contributions to the war effort their basic science colleagues might make. There is no speculation about new

weapons that might be devised or who among their counterparts might be doing research similar to their own. Nor did the question of science and social

responsibility arise. There seems to have been an unspoken assumption that scientists, though quite useful, would merely apply themselves to improving the efficiency and organization of existing processes. Like generals they may have been content to fight this war with the weapons of the last.

An exception to this lack of comment on specific German scientific develop-



io8

ments was the subject of poison gas. Without entering the argument over which side used it first, it can be said that people in nations of the Entente blamed the Central Powers for introducing it. German scientists were naturally considered to be 'in part responsible for this barbarism' (95), especially the same Fritz Haber whose earlier success in artificially fixing nitrogen had enabled the explosives industry to flourish without the need for foreign nitrates. The award of the Nobel Prize in chemistry to him in I919 did not bring cheers from the victors (96). Another rare exception to the curtain of silence about the work of their enemy colleagues came from the Frenchman, Charles Guillaume, who reported to Ramsay that a rumour about Nernst's death was false. 'So much the better for physical chemistry after the war', he wrote. 'But-how fierce one becomes-I should have been pleased to hear that a good shell had prevented him from taking part in the manufacture of explosives or poisons' (97)-

PROPOSED ACTION DURING THE WAR

Other than hope for fortuitous explosions abroad and strive for innovation and production at home, what could Allied scientists do to further the war effort and display their patriotism?

Continue their own research was one answer. In contrast to England and France, where professors were more intimately associated with the demands of war, it was alleged that German scientists were still at their scholarship. The former might therefore win 'the war in a military sense, only to find ourselves dominated by German knowledge and German science!' (98)

Refuse to cite German authors and ignore their taxonomic terminology was another answer. Such proposals were connected to the anger felt about Germans claiming priority for discoveries of others, yet they called for doing precisely what they criticized (99). 'There is not an English entomology, nor a French paleontology', an opponent of this action protested, 'any more than there exists a Roman Catholic algebra or a Presbyterian geometry' (Ioo).

Of more intense concern was the matter of the international organizations. Should the Allies try to have their work continue through neutral leadership, or should they establish successor bodies that they would dominate? It proved not to be a simple problem. The International Association of Academies, for example, had been scheduled next to meet in Berlin, the host being the 'leading academy'. Since by-law changes required more votes than the Allies controlled, and the positions of the neutral members were uncertain, Arthur Schuster feared that the Germans would remain in charge and might refuse to receive



io9

the English at the first postwar meeting (IOI). Concern was also expressed that any precipitate action might force the neutrals to side with the Germans, allowing them to capture the existing international organizations (I02). The question also arose whether the war terminated previous agreements. A. A. Michelson declared in the affirmative with respect to the International Geodetic Association, but Hale (at that time) maintained that agreements should be honoured (Io3). And if there was no consensus within any country, the views between nations could hardly be in harmony. The British and Americans thought it desirable to transfer the functions of the International Association of Academies to neutral Holland, and had secured the agreement of Hermann Diels, its president in Berlin, but the French refused even to discuss the matter during the war. Not all such actions were stymied, for management of the Zentralstelle fur astronomische Telegramme was shifted from Kiel to Copen- hagen, but in general the activities of the international bodies were severely hampered (Io4).

Inevitably, then, Allied scientists focused more and more upon erecting their own international organizations. Primary among these was the Inter- national Research Council, whose origin has been well described by Daniel Kevles (Io5). World War I was also midwife to national efforts to match Germany's organizational prowess, and Hale became chairman of the American National Research Council, while England created a Department of Scientific and Industrial Research (Io6). Clearly, the initial fear of being rejected by a coalition of neutrals and Central Powers was replaced by a determination that German scientists were to be excluded for the indefinite future from the postwar international activities of the Entente.

The most controversial matter upon which Allied scientists were called to decide concerned neither their research nor their organization, the two topics mentioned above. It dealt with, in effect, public relations: what should be done about enemy foreign members of different societies? A straight-forward proposal was to expel them. Good precedent had been provided when the names of the Kaiser and Prince Henry of Prussia were removed from the Royal Navy List (Io7). But, as with the discussion about international organizations, the matter was not so simple.

Ardent patriots demanded that British societies be cleansed of all enemy corruption. Moreover, the insult inflicted upon the eminent foreigners would show Germany Britain's contempt. Since some of the manifesto signers were among those honoured with membership in these English organizations, it seemed preposterous not to take action against them. Champions of this view



IIO

were those who had hounded Schuster and other Englishmen of German origin.

With probable prompting by the dissident member J. W. Gordon, the London newspaper The Standard found the Royal Institution's behaviour curious. Its annual report seemed very 'neutral', there was alleged hesitation in converting laboratory space to war use, and about a dozen German professors remained on the honorary member's list, including the outrageous Ostwald and Lenard. Still, the R.I. Managers refused to take any action (o08). At least one member was led by this publicity to query the Managers, who resolved to defer the matter until after the war, when it could be discussed by the membership at a General Meeting (o09). Gordon continued his efforts to purge the R.I. of its enemy influence, even personally petitioning the King to intervene, but the leadership prevailed (IIo).

The Council of the Chemical Society had less control over its large member-

ship. They were compelled to bring the issue to a mail ballot and then a vote at an open meeting in I9I6. Their initial resolution to suspend judgment about

enemy members until after the war was defeated, as was a motion to remove the nine names temporarily and decide their permanent status in peacetime. Instead, the motion that carried read:

The Chemical Society considers that it is neither compatible nor con- sistent with its loyalty to the Crown, whence the Royal Charter under which it works was derived, to retain any alien enemies upon its List of Honorary and Foreign Members.

It is therefore resolved that the names of A. von Baeyer, T. Curtius, E. Fischer, C. Graebe, P. H. R. von Groth, W. Nemst, W. Ostwald, O. Wallach, and R. Willstatter, who were elected under happier conditions in recognition of their eminent services to Chemical Science-for which the Society still retains an undiminished appreciation and regard-be, and are hereby removed from the List of Honorary and Foreign Members (xII).

As perhaps befitting its rank in the hierarchy of British scientific organizations, the Royal Society fought with this issue longer and harder than any other group. Four signers of the manifesto were Foreign Members of the Royal Society-Adolf von Baeyer, Paul Ehrlich, Emil Fischer, and Felix Klein-and another thirteen Foreign Members also came from the Central Powers (I 2). This was more than one third of that select category. Initial hostility focused upon the four who had made themselves so conspicuous, but in the long run the problem involved all of them (I 3). For the Royal Society's Council, which



III

wished to take no action, the decision of the French Academie des Sciences early in I9IS to strike out the names of the manifesto signers it had elected to membership (but not other enemy academicians) was most awkward (114). But still they sidestepped the question. They could point to moderation on the other side, for the German Chemical Society had decided (by a close vote) not to expel William Ramsay because of his strong condemnation of them, but rather to give him an opportunity to explain after the war (IIS). Yet for a man such as Henry Armstrong, whose rectitude and bitterness knew no bounds, this was unsatisfactory. Finally, in I918, the pressure apparently became too great and the Council agreed to hold a Special General Meeting on the topic. Armstrong had enlisted a few other Fellows under his banner, making him less of an isolated crank, and the public was beginning to wonder about this society which numbered enemies of Great Britain among its members. Perhaps it would be wiser to act in moderation by suspending them, before being forced into such a harsh measure as expulsion (I16).

Armstrong tried to win Joseph Larmor to his point of view, both because of his prestige as a physicist and former Secretary of the Royal Society, and because of his prominence as a Member of Parliament. 'No particular charge can be brought against men like Quincke, &c.,' Armstrong confessed, 'in fact, there are no specially objectionable names on the list. But they are Germans! And the public will ask-"Are or are not you scientific men going to maintain relations with the Germans... ?" ' (II7). At first Larmor was inclined to agree that suspension might be necessary, even though he too doubted 'whether there are many-or any-really offensive people in the Royal Society list ...' (II8). However, when he checked the names on the list he was moved to his original position that no action should be taken (119). This symbolized the dilemma: while all German intellectuals were considered responsible for their country's atrocities, the honorary members of any society were bound to be a highly respectable group and many felt that they did not personally deserve indignities from their colleagues abroad. Moreover, since all that most people heard were censored bits of news, some were unwilling to condemn the Germans or take any action until the war ended and communications were restored (I20).

The Royal Society, it seemed, could not afford this luxury. Two Council members, Frederick Soddy's father-in-law, Sir George Beilby, and M. O. Forster, demanded action. Forster moved:

That, in view of the war having continued during nearly four years without any indication that the scientific men of Germany are unsympathetic



112

towards the abominable malpractices of their Government and their fellow-countrymen, and having regard to the representative character of the Royal Society among British scientific bodies as recognized by the patronage of His Majesty the King, this Council forthwith take the steps necessary for removing all enemy aliens from the foreign membership of the Society (121).

PresidentJ.J. Thomson had the votes, however, and after discussion the Council resolved:

That the question of the expulsion of the enemy Foreign Members of Scientific Societies be referred to the Inter-Allied Conference, which is to meet in London in October [I918], with the view of obtaining unity of action between the Allied nations .. . (22).

The call for unity of action had some merit, for the French were inclined to eject all Germans from all Allied academies, and the Americans certainly had to come to a decision also (123). But the delay for several months was an obvious evasion, and the Special General Meeting on 31 July 1918, at which the Fellows' opinions would be ascertained, was unlikely to satisfy the 'hot-heads' Thomson expected to attend (124).

At that meeting several amendments were offered and voted upon, but the outcome seems not to have been in doubt. Alfred North Whitehead and Ernest Starling were responsible for the final statement, which merely urged the

Royal Society's representatives to the forthcoming Inter-Allied Conference to 'raise the question of the expulsion of enemy foreign members with a view to

eliciting the opinion of the conference to the desirability of joint action, and that the subject be reconsidered at a future meeting on the report of the dele-

gates' (125). At the October conference the minuet was danced, with the

Royal Society duly raising the issue and the U.S. National Academy of Sciences leading the opposition to expulsion, a view that prevailed (126). This result was scheduled to be reported to a meeting of the Royal Society on 21 November 1918, but World War I had ended by then and the matter seems not to have been raised (127). Once again parliamentary procedure and the Establishment's influence had so tied up an issue that it never even came to a meaningful vote. Why had they gone to such pains? Avoiding insult to Germans for whom they retained personal respect obviously was important. But perhaps even more significant was an unspoken recognition that expulsion of enemy members would in the long run not reflect well upon the Society itself.



"I3

CONCLUSION

Half a year after the Armistice an advertisement in the journal Science for the Scientific Materials Company's catalogue read: 'Not one item in it is made in Germany. [The catalog is] complete, conveniently arranged, thoroughly indexed, and offers the opportunity to free your laboratory of German products' (128). Except for an articulate minority, this could well be called the goal of Allied scientists. While their attitude early in the war was one of some moderation-e.g., Germany would be readmitted to international scientific activities after a short cooling-off period, during which time business could be conducted by mail through neutrals-this moderation soon changed to implacable hatred (I29). Germany must be humiliated for a generation (I30). German scientists must 'repudiate the present policy of the German government' (131) (an unrealistic demand during the war if they were to remain at liberty and retain their positions, and an impossible one after the war when the scientists opposed Weimar's attempts at reconcilliation). For an unspecified, long time there could be no scientific dealings with Germany, no international meetings with Germans present, and no international organization headquartered in Germany. All this must wait until cordial personal relations could be re-established (132). Those in the United States who counselled that scientists should not continue their war after the shooting war had ended-and pointed out how awkward it would have been to the National Academy of Sciences if, after the Civil War, its statutes forbade it to co-operate with men of science south of the Mason-Dixon line-made little impact (I33). International science after World War I was organized on personal hatreds and judgments, not upon rational consideration of what was best for science. Both victor and vanquished continued the hostilities in science long after the politicians turned from swords to plowshares (134).

And as we have seen, this applies not only to their postwar plans and practices, but to their wartime behaviour as well. The manifesto signers might be damned for abandoning their analytical faculties and accepting hearsay evidence, but the Allied scientists did no less. The Establishment often preferred moderation, at least when it came to dealing with specific individuals, but in general emotionalism reigned among both leaders and the lesser men of science. They were so inflamed by their own propaganda that their anger could not quickly subside. Nor did they see any need for it to do so. Because each side argued that the other had abandoned the principles of internationalism, it could go its own way while still professing allegiance to those ideals. A con- temporary political philosopher has recommended that observers 'look at what



II4

we do, not what we say'. In World War I, however, the British and American actions largely matched their words, and they were neither objectively critical nor in the best interests of science. Scientists proved that, in a crisis, they were in possession of no magical scientific method.

It is ironic that the professed main desire of scientists was to bring their talents to bear upon problems of national importance, yet they spent so much time and energy on ethical or moral questions of what is fitting and proper. One won- ders if, despite numerous statements that the Great War absorbed much basic and applied scientific talent, scientists had too much time on their hands. Or perhaps it truly was a vigorous war for science, but the unprecedented close relationship between science and politics posed these many new problems that had to be resolved.

By the time of World War II scientists were able to move into weapons research with far fewer moral difficulties to distract them. Perhaps it was because the custom of going to Germany for graduate work was less common than before World War I and personal ties were not as extensive. Perhaps, further, the Nazi-induced intellectual migration of the I930s eased Allied scientists into anti-German sentiments more gradually. Perhaps, also, Germany was not perceived to be as much a scientific powerhouse as relatively she was seen in I914. Or, possibly, a lesson was learned. In any case, there seems to have been far less vituperation between Allied and Axis scientists, while refugee enemy aliens from Germany and Italy actively participated in the Allies' most secret projects, and Lord Cherwell, German-born as F. A. Lindemann, was Winston Churchill's personal scientific adviser. Science was now infinitely more important, albeit shrouded greatly in secrecy, and if there were com- plaints about anyone's foreign origins they never became serious.

In World War I scientific activity was far more open to critical comment. But this openness rarely extended to communications with enemy scientists. Were contacts maintained, it is likely that, with such exceptions as Ostwald and Lenard, men on both sides would have backed off from extreme positions and found that they still retained much in common. Internationalism in science was as much a casualty of hardening of its arteries as of nationalism. Contact, communication, co-operation-keeping the circulatory system vigorous-is necessary to sustain internationalism. Its death in World War I was due both to circulatory collapse and the virus of nationalism.



II5

NoTEs (1) Part of this paper was presented at the 1977 History of Science Society meeting in Dallas.

For their valuable advice I am much indebted to Alan Beyerchen, Judith Goodstein, Brigitte Schroeder-Gudehus, Derek Price, Roy MacLeod, Elizabeth Hodes, Helena Kirk, Rod Bridges, Stein Undheim, Roberta Belanger, and James Sears. Many individuals and institutions have provided me with the documents cited here, for which I am most grateful. These include Merriley Borell, Robert Frank, Michael Freedman, N. H. Robinson and staff of the Royal Society Library, A. E. B. Owen and Peter Gautrey and staff of the Cambridge University Library, Jeanne Pingree of the Imperial College Archives, Irene McCabe of the Royal Institution Library, Gill Furlong of the University College Archives, Whitfield Bell of the American Philo- sophical Society Library, Alice Quinlan of the National Academy of Sciences Archives, A. G. Lee of the St.Johns College Library, andJudith Goodstein and Carolyn Harding of the California Institute of Technology Archives.

(2) In D. Masters and K. Way (eds.), One World or None, a Report to the Public on the Full Meaning of the Atomic Bomb (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1946), p. ix.

(3) Organized by Roger Stuewer and held at the University of Minnesota in May I977. (4) I. Newton, Principia, ed. by F. Cajori (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1934;

printing of 1960), p. 398. (5) J. Winthrop, Relation of a Voyage From Boston to Newfoundland, for the Observation of the

Transit of Venus, June 6, 1761 (Boston, I76I). (6) Andrew Kippis, The Life and Voyages of Captain James Cook (London, 1788; reprinted

London: Newnes, and New York: Scribner's, 1904), pp. 398-401. (7) David Knight, 'Humphrey Davy', Dictionary of Scientific Biography (hereafter DSB) (New

York: Scribner's, 1971), vol. 3, p. 603. (8) G. F. Nicolai, The Biology of War (London: Dent, 1919), pp. 292-93. For the value of

looking at the specific characteristics of nations, see Maurice Crosland, 'Presidential address: History of science in a national context', Br.J. Hist. Sci.,xo (July 1977), 95- I 3.

(9) Daniel Siegel, 'Balfour Stewart and Gustav Robert Kirchhoff: Two independent ap- proaches to "Kirchhoff's radiation law,"' Isis, 67 (1976), 565-6oo, esp. pp. 590-99. The very existence of priority disputes can be taken as an indication that the people involved subscribe to the concept of internationalism: they care what colleagues abroad think. My yardstick in this paper, however, is the practical effect on communication and cooperation. See Paul Forman, 'Scientific internationalism and the Weimar physicists: the ideology and its manipulation in Germany after World War I', Isis, 64 (1973), i51-80, esp. p. I57. Also see Harry W. Paul, The Sorcerer's Apprentice; The French Scientist's Image of German Science, 184o-1919 (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, I972).

(0o) Rene Vallery-Radot, The Life of Pasteur (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Page, I923), pp. I89-90, I97.

(ii) A. Schuster to G. E. Hale, 19 Aug. I9I2, Hale collection, Archives of the California Institute of Technology (hereafter Hale-Caltech). G. F. Hampson, 'Systematic papers published in the German language', Science, 49 (21 Feb. 1919), 193, notes protests by the Russians and others that their languages were not recognized at the x905 Botanical Congress in Vienna.



II6

(12) Brigitte Schroeder-Gudehus, Les Scientifiques et la Paix (Montreal: University of Montreal Press, I978). ch. 2. P. Forman (note 9), pp. I57-58.

(13) See, e.g., the statement by Arthur Schuster on 3 Oct. I918, Royal Society Minutes of Council, 11 (1914-1920), p. 328. Also see examples cited in note 12 above.

(I4) The latter question is well dealt with in P. Forman (note 9). (I5) See, e.g., Morning Post (London), 20 Oct. I914, p. 4. (16) See, e.g., Morning Post, 20 Oct. 1914, p. 4, and 21 Oct. 1914, p. 4.

(I7) The Times (London), 28 Oct. I914. (I8) From a display at the Imperial War Museum, London, Aug. I977. (I9) A. B. Basset letter to the editor, Morning Post, 22 Oct. I914, p. II.

(20) J. Larmor letter to the editor, Morning Post, 26 Oct. I914, p. 5. (21) O. Lodge to officers of the Royal Society, 23 Oct. 1914, No. MC 14167, Royal Society of

London Library (hereafter R.S.). (22) Royal Society Minutes of Council, 10 (1908-1914), p. 467, meeting of 29 Oct. I914.

(23) Committee of Managers Minutes, 18 (I914-1920), pp. I8-29, Royal Institution Archives

(hereafter R.I.). Gordon's letter (pp. I8-20) is dated 19 Oct. I914, and was considered at the Managers' meeting on 2 Nov. I914.

(24) Proofofa circular letter, dated November 1914 but received by the Managers in October, in ibid., pp. 20-24.

(25) Committee of Managers Minutes (note 23). The statement was presented to the Managers at their meeting on I Feb. I915 (p. 32); his resignation was submitted on i Mar. I915 (p. 40); and a resolution of thanks for his excellent services was read on 3 May 1915 (p. 5o). The first and third documents were also printed in the Proc. Roy. Inst., 21 (I914-I916), 303-304, 442. According to Henry E. Armstrong to J. Larmor, 29 July I918, Larmor collection, R.S., Dewar was responsible for convincing Siemens to

resign. (26) 'Notes', Nature, Lond., 94 (22 Oct. 1914), 206.

(27) H. E. Armstrong to J. J. Thomson, 26 Nov. I917, Thomson collection, Cambridge University Library (hereafter C.U.L.). Armstrong, 'Hugo Miiller',J. Chem. Soc., III (1917), 572-588, esp. pp. 572-575. There are extenuating circumstances in Miiller's

case, for he seems initially to have sympathized with Germany's cause and even referred to himself as a 'German resident' in England. See Armstrong's obituary notice, pp. 573-574.

(28) See, e.g., W. B. Cannon to G. E. Hale, 9 Apr. 1917, R. S. Woodworth to Robert M. Yerkes, I9 Apr. 1917, and G. N. Lewis memo, 7 Sept. 1917, all in the 'Security questions re American scientists' folder, National Academy of Sciences Archives.

(29) Robert H. Kargon, 'Arthur Schuster', D.S.B. (New York: Scribner's, 1975), vol. 12,

pp. 237-239.

(30) 'Wireless receiver seized', The Times, I8 Oct. I914, p. 2.

(31) A. A. Campbell Swinton to A. Schuster, 12 Jan. 1915, Schuster collection, R.S.

(32) Prince Boris Galitzine to A. Schuster, 9 Jan. 1915, Schuster collection, R.S.

(33) Royal Society Minutes of Council, 10 (I908-I94), p. 467, meeting of 29 Oct. I914. (34) A. Schuster to 0. Lodge, 3I Oct. I914, Lodge collection, University College London.

(35) George C. Simpson, 'Sir Arthur Schuster, I85I-I934', Obituary Notices of Fellows of the

Royal Society, I (I934), 409-423, esp. pp. 421-422. E. Rutherford to B. Boltwood, I4



II7

Sept. I9I5, Boltwood collection, Yale University Library. H. Roscoe toJ.J. Thomson, 30July I9I5, Thomson collection, C.U.L.

(36) H. Roscoe to J. J. Thomson, o1 Sept. I9I5, Thomson collection, C.U.L. E. Rutherford, ibid. Rutherford to A. Schuster, 4 Oct. IgIS, Schuster collection, R.S. Manchester Guardian, 7 Sept. I9I5, p. I2, and 8 Sept. I9I5, p. 4. The Times, 8 Sept. I9I5, p. 9. New York Times, 8 Sept. I915. p. 2.

(37) H. E. Armstrong letter to the editor, The Times, 15 July 1915, p. 7.J. A. Fleming to Arm-

strong, I8 Sept. I9I5, W. A. Herdman to Armstrong, IS Feb. [IgS5], and W. D. Halliburton to Armstrong, I6 Feb. I915, all in the Armstrong collection, Imperial College Archives. Royal Society Minutes of Council, I (I914-9920), pp. I8, 22, which refer to letters received from Armstrong and discussed at the meetings on 2I Jan. and I8 Feb. I9I5.

(38) H. E. Armstrong to J. Larmor, 8 July 1917, Larmor collection, R.S.

(39) Quoted in H. E. Armstrong to J. Larmor, 29 July 1918, Larmor collection, R.S.

(40) J. J. Thomson to G. P. Thomson, I Dec. I917, quoted in Lord Rayleigh, The Life of Sir

J.J. Thomson (London: Dawsons, I969; reprint of 1942 edition), p. I95. (41) H. H. Turner to A. Schuster, 7 Dec. 1917, Schuster to Turner, Io Dec. 1917, and

Schuster to J. J. Thomson, 4 Nov. and 31 Dec. 1917, all in the Thomson collection, C.U.L.

(42) A. Schuster to J. J. Thomson, I9 July I9I8, Thomson collection, C.U.L. (43) A. Schuster to J. J. Thomson, 20 Oct. [I918], Thomson collection, C.U.L.

(44) J.J. Thomson to A. Schuster, 22 Oct. 1918, Schuster collection, R.S. Royal Society Minutes

of Council, 11 (1914-1920), pp. 333-334, meeting of 31 Oct. I9I8. (45) H. E. Armstrong to J. J. Thomson, 26 Nov. 1917, and Thomson to Armstrong, 27 Nov.

1917, both in Thomson collection, C.U.L. Thomson to A. Schuster, 25 Nov. 1917, Schuster collection, R.S.

(46) H. A. Bumstead to G. E. Hale, 25 July I9I8, Hale-Caltech.

(47) H. E. Armstrong to J. Larmor, 29 July 1918, Larmor collection, R.S.

(48) 'Scholars protest against war with Germany', The Times, i Aug. 1914, p. 6.

(49) J. A. Fleming, 'Notes', Nature, Lond., 94 (24 Sept. 1914), 94. (50) W. Ramsay, 'Germany's aims and ambitions', Nature, Lond. 94 (8 Oct. 1914), 137-139. (SI) 'Science and the State', Nature, Lond., 94 (29 Oct. 1914), 221-222.

(52) E. R. Lankester, Nature, Lond., 94 (3 Dec. 1914), 486. (53) Nature, Lond., 94 (3I Dec. 1914), 486. (54) 'German super-man deposed', Morning Post, 2I Jan. 1915, p. 9. (55) G. A. Miller, 'Scientific activity and the war', Science, 48 (2 Aug. I9I8), 1I7-II8. (56) E. Rignano, 'A plea for a scientific quadruple entente', Nature, Lond. 98 (25 Jan. 19I7),

408-409. (57) 'Science and the State' (note I5). (58) 'Science and industry', Nature, Lond., 95 (I8 Mar. 1915), 57-59. J. Dewar, 'Liquid oxygen

in warfare', Proc. R. Inst., 22 (19I9), 591-620, esp. p. 591. 'The govrnment and chemical research', Nature, Lond., 95 (13 May 19I5), 295-296. 'Science in national affairs', Nature, Lond., 96 (21 Oct. 1915), I95-I97.

(59) W. H. Perkin, 'The position of the organic chemical industry',J. Chem. Soc., I07 (1915), 557-578, quote on p. 566.



II8

(60) W.J. Pope, 'The future of pure and applied chemistry',J. Chem. Soc., 113 (I918), 289-300, esp. pp. 289-290. It is not stated when Germany's output was measured. Also see Gilbert Whittemore, 'World War I, poison gas research, and the ideals of American chemists', Social Studies of Science, 5 (May 1975), I35-I63.

(6i) W. J. Pope, 'Chemistry in the national service', J. Chem. Soc., 115 (1919), 397-407, esp. pp. 400-402. Note that the charge that Germany's scientists, not industry, failed her was again levied after World War II, with respect to nuclear weapons. See David

Irving, The Virus House (London: Kimber, 1967). For further information on WWI British and German chemical efforts, see Lord Moulton, et al., Proc. Chem. Soc., pp. 38-56, bound withJ. Chem. Soc., II5 (I919).

(62) W. Ramsay to I. Remsen, 27 Dec. 1915, Johns Hopkins University Library. (63) The manifesto was reprinted in many places, e.g., Ralph H. Lutz (ed.), The Fall of the

German Empire, 1914-1918 (Palo Alto, California: Stanford University Press, 1932), vol. I, pp. 74-78. The scientific and medical signers were Adolf von Baeyer, Karl

Engler, Emil Fischer, Wilhelm Forster, Fritz Haber, Ernst Haeckel, Gustav Hellmann, Felix Klein, Philipp Lenard, Walter Nerst, Wilhelm Ostwald, Max Planck, Wilhelm Rontgen, Wilhelm Wien, Richard Willstitter, Emil von Behring, Paul Ehrlich, Albert Neisser, Albert Plehn, Max Rubner, Wilhelm Waldeyer, August von Wasser- mann. Some explanations for signing the manifesto are recounted in B. Schroeder- Gudehus (note 12); G. F. Nicolai (note 8), pp. 2, 7; P. Forman (note 9), p. 158; and

'Obituary. Professor Klein', The Times, 9 July 1925, p. I6. Also see Fritz Ringer, The Decline of the German Mandarins; The German Academic Community, 1890-1933 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1969).

(64) G. F. Nicolai (note 8), pp. 7-9. The other supporter was astronomy professor Wilhelm Forster, who had also signed the appeal 'To the Civilized World!'

(65) S. P. Thompson to A. Schuster, 27 Dec. I9I4, Schuster collection, R.S.

(66) The Times, 21 Oct. 1914, p. Io. See also Samuel Harden Church, The American Verdict on the War: A Reply to the Appeal to the Civilized World of 3 German Professors (Baltimore: Norman, Remington, 1915).

(67) Royal Society Minutes of Council, II (I9I4-I920), pp. 83, 249. Proc. R. Inst., 21 (1915), 4II. Note that this was not one-sided behaviour. Kasimir Fajans, e.g., wrote an obituary of

Henry Moseley, Die Naturw., 27 (7 July 1916), 381-382. (68) W. Ostwald statement quoted by W. W. Campbell in his position paper of I5 Sept. 1917,

entitled 'International cooperation in science', Hale-Caltech. See also G. E. Hale to A. L. Day, 8 Oct. 1917, Hale-Caltech.

(69) E. Rignano (note 56). (70) Morning Post, 26 Nov. 1918. (71) P. Lenard, England und Deutschland zur Zeit des grossen Krieges (Heidelberg: Carl Winter,

I914; reprinted Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, F. Eher Nachfolge, 1940), pp. 9-10, 2I.

(72) Quoted in presidential address by W. Crookes, Proc. R. Soc. Lond., A9I (iJan. 1915), 114. (73) D. Fraser Harris, 'The Germans and scientific discovery', Nature, Lond., 98 (2 Nov. 1916),

I68-I69. (74) Lord Walsingham, 'German naturalists and nomenclature,' Nature, Lond., 102 (5 Sept.

1918), 4.



II9

(75) Quoted by F. T. Lewis, in 'German terms in anatomy', Science, 49 (28 Mar. I919), 308. (76) Ibid. W. J. Holland, 'Shall writers upon the biological sciences agree to ignore systematic

papers published in the German language since 1914?, Science, 48 (8 Nov. I9I8), 469-47I.

(77) W. W. Ford to R. M. Pearce, 27 May I918, Hale-Caltech. (78) J. F. Robertson to J. J. Thomson, 31 Aug. 1917, Thomson collection, C.U.L. (79) G. E. Hale to A. Schuster, 22 Sept. I917, and Hale to A. L. Day, 8 Oct. I917, both in

Hale-Caltech. (80) W. W. Campbell (note 68). (8I) W. Crookes (note 72). (82) Nature, Lond., 94 (24 Sept. 1914), 94. Also see obituary ofWoldemar Voigt, Proc. R. Soc.

Lond., Ag9 (1921), xxx. Fridtjof Nansen to W. Ramsay, 28 Aug. 1914, Ramsay collection, University College London.

(83) W. Ramsay (note 5o). In any case, no instance is known of an Englishman rejecting his German honors. See A. Schuster to G. E. Hale, 22 Dec. 1914, Hale-Caltech.

(84) F. Soddy to E. Rutherford, 7 Apr. 1919, Rutherford collection, C.U.L. (85) S. Meyer to E. Rutherford, 3 Sept. I915, Rutherford collection, C.U.L. (86) J. Chadwick to E. Rutherford, 14 Sept. I9I5 and 24 May I918, Rutherford collection,

C.U.L. (87) H. E. Armstrong, 'The visit of the British Association to Australia', Proc. R. Inst., 21

(I9I1), 335-356, esp. p. 343. E. Rutherford to B. Boltwood, 28 Oct. 1914, Boltwood collection, Yale University Library. P. Pringsheim to E. Rutherford, IS Nov. 1915, Rutherford collection, C.U.L.

(88) E. Rutherford to B. Boltwood, I Apr. I915, Boltwood collection, Yale University Library. S. Meyer to Rutherford, I2 Mar. I915, H. Geiger to Rutherford, 26 Mar. I915, and F. Soddy to Rutherford, I7 Jan. I915, all in Rutherford collection, C.U.L.

(89) G. E. Hale to A. Schuster, I3 Feb. 1915, Hale-Caltech. (90) R. H. Chittenden to G. E. Hale, 3 Oct. 1917, Hale-Caltech. (91) G. E. Hale to A. Schuster, 22 Sept. I917, Hale-Caltech.

(92) W. W. Campbell (note 68). (93) J. Loeb, 'Biology and war', Science, 45 (26 Jan. 1917), 73-76. (94) W. W. Campbell (note 68). Also see B. Schroeder-Gudehus, 'Challenge to transnational

loyalties: International scientific organizations after the first World War', Science Studies, 3 (I973), 93-II8, esp .p. Ioo.

(95) W. W. Campbell (note 68). (96) 'Award of the Nobel Prize to Professor Haber', Science, 51 (27 Feb. I920), 208-209. (97) C. Guillaume to W. Ramsay, io Nov. I9I5, Ramsay collection, University College

London. (98) G. A. Miller (note 55). (99) Lord Walsingham (note 74). G. F. Hampson (note II).

(Ioo) W. J. Holland (note 76). (Ioi) A. Schuster to G. E. Hale, 27 Oct. 914, Hale-Caltech. (o02) H. A. Bumstead to G. E. Hale, 4 Mar. 1918, Hale-Caltech.

(103) G. E. Hale to R. A. Millilck, 2 Oct. 1917, Hale-Caltech.



I20

(104) G. E. Hale to H. Diels, 28 Dec. 1914, 17 Mar. 1915, and I June 1915, all in Hale-Caltech. See B. Schroeder-Gudehus (note 12).

(1o5) D. Kevles, ' "Into hostile political camps": The reorganization of international science in World War I,' Isis, 62 (Spring 1971), 47-60.

(Io6) B. Schroeder-Gudehus (note 12). (107) The Times Diary and Index of The War (London: Times Publishing Co., 1921 ), entry for

5 Nov. I914. (108) The Standard, 14June 1915. (o09) Committee of Managers Minutes, 18 (June i9i4-May 1920), 72, meeting of 5 July 1915.

The Standard article is bound between pp. 61-62. R.I.

(IIo) Gordon's petition to the King, 25 May 1917, is bound in ibid., between pp. I73-74. (III) Proc. Chem. Soc., pp. 25-26, bound withJ. Chem. Soc., I09 (1916). (112) The others were Arthur Julius Georg Friedrich von Auwers, Paul Heinrich von Groth,

Friedrich Robert Helmert, Ewald Hering, Ludimar Her

Documents

British and American Views of the German Menace in World War I