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Discovering the Ice Ages
History of Science
and Medicine Library
VOLUME 37
By
Tobias Krüger
Translated by
Ann M. Hentschel
Leiden • boston
2013
Cover illustration: Nagelfluh (molasse conglomerate) Findling, near Knonau, Canton Zurich,
© Tobias Krüger.
Translated with generous grants from the Berne University Research Foundation and the Mercator
Foundation Switzerland.
QE697.K7813 2013
551.7’92—dc23
2013016827
This publication has been typeset in the multilingual “Brill” typeface. With over 5,100 characters
covering Latin, IPA, Greek, and Cyrillic, this typeface is especially suitable for use in the
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ISSN 1872-0684
ISBN 978-90-04-24169-5 (hardback)
ISBN 978-90-04-24170-1 (e-book)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.
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Fees are subject to change.
1 Introduction ............................................................................................... 1
1.1 Basic Preliminary Thoughts ........................................................ 1
1.2 The Issues ......................................................................................... 3
1.3 Relevance .......................................................................................... 4
1.4 Method .............................................................................................. 5
1.5 Structure . .......................................................................................... 7
1.6 Sources . ............................................................................................. 7
1.7 State of the Art in the Literature . ............................................. 10
4 Glacier and Ice-Age Theories in the First Half of the 1830s . ...... 141
4.1 Professor Bernhardi’s Polar Caps . ............................................. 141
4.2 The Systematist ............................................................................... 148
4.3 Periods of Activation and Stagnation ...................................... 155
4.4 Conclusion on Ice-Age and Glacier Theories 1830–1836 .... 162
The discovery of the ice ages over the course of the nineteenth cen-
tury has been overshadowed by other major scientific discoveries of the
period. Consequently a broader, internationally comparative account of
the beginnings of research on the glacial ages has been lacking. Such
a work is especially beneficial, as the discovery of the glacial ages and
the insights into how climate works casts a bridge over to the present
debate on current issues of climate change. It is no coincidence that the
present book was written under the hospices of the National Centre of
Competence in Research, Climate (NCCR-Climate) at the University of
Berne, Switzerland.
preface and acknowledgments xix
INTRODUCTION
The concept of ice ages is one of the great scientific discoveries of the 19th
century. The path which scientists had been following up to that point was
forced to turn as abruptly as the one at the foot of the Findling depicted on
the front cover. As in the photo, it pointed toward new horizons, opening
up new perspectives and novel explanations for hitherto incomprehen-
sible phenomena, with numerous points of departure for further inquiry.
Too often this discovery has been overshadowed, surely unjustifiably, by
other great scientific achievements of that century. Consider, for instance,
the foundations of organic chemistry, or the development of modern his-
toriography, or the theory of evolution. This book intends to put an end to
this shadowy existence. It presents the exciting and multilayered history
of the discovery of the ice ages seen from an international perspective and
casts light on its consequences.
2 Troeltsch 1922.
3 Zimmer 1995, 53f.
introduction 3
The discovery of glacial epochs joined much earlier insights into the
Earth’s great age and correlative depositional stratifications as another
great upheaval within 19th-century geology. The present work pursues the
question of when and how the ice ages were discovered and examines the
reception of this new conception from a comparative international per-
spective. Thus it follows an interdisciplinary agenda within the history of
science, also touching the disciplines of geology (more specifically, glacial
geology), biology, paleoclimatology, and atmospheric physics, as well as
astronomy. Within the range of the social sciences and humanities, our
main focus is on the history of society and communications.
From this general range of interests derive four groups of issues: The
first deals with the history per se of the discovery of glacial ages. The most
immediate issue is: Which geological phenomena gave the initial impetus
for concerted research on the ice ages? Connected to this is the question:
Since when were the geographically distributed traces of an ice age in
Europe and North America known? Of no lesser interest is: Why did con-
temporary researchers conclude that ice played a part in their formation?
And when was wide-ranging glaciation first concluded from these various
observations? We need to find out how this thought was connected with
the notion of a colder climate and who first propounded an ice-age theory
in the sense of a global drop in temperature with large areas covered by
glaciers or masses of continental ice. When was this theory formulated,
and where?
The second set of questions likewise concerns the discovery of the
glacial ages. At center stage are the premises in philosophy and natu-
ral history upheld by the first ice-age researchers. Knowing about their
assumptions and motivations is important for a deeper understanding of
contemporary theory formation. A glance will be cast at the training that
pioneers in the study of glaciers underwent and an inquiry will be made
into anything they may have shared in common. The basic assumptions
and theories about the history of the Earth promoted by contesters of the
4 “Die Idee einer allein richtigen Darstellung hat angesichts der Endlichkeit unseres
historischen Daseins, wie es scheint, überhaupt etwas Widersinniges.” Gadamer 1972, 114.
4 chapter one
developing glacial theory are equally revealing. What objections did they
raise? Why did these objections hold true for so long? What weakened
them, and how were they ultimately refuted? Similarities in training and
professional socialization will be sought among the adversaries of the new
theory as well. Heavily centralized France is particularly suitable here for
closer consideration. In this connection it would be generally interesting
to know whether particular groups can be made out from among the sup-
porters and opponents of the new theory.
The third aspect of the present study is the history of the reception
of ice-age theory. How contemporary scientists found out details about
the new theory is a connected issue. Which societies, conferences, and
periodicals played a key role in the exchange of such information? What
functions did contemporary scientific societies have? In addition, when
in each of the most important countries was a local majority of geologists
found in favor of the glacial theory? Are national peculiarities identifiable
in its reception? Although a popularization of the history of glacial theory
is not the intention of this book, wherever possible an attempt is made to
convey the basics to a more general audience.
The fourth issue, finally, is a prospective inquiry into the consequences
of the discovery of the ice ages for the affected scientific disciplines and
how this discovery influenced our understanding of climate. In this con-
nection, particular attention is paid to the on-going search for possible
causes of the glacial periods. Of primary interest here is what ideas were
formed then that now serve as a scientific basis in the current debates
about climate change?
1.3 Relevance
The point of the present work rests on four pillars: First, the reception and
dissemination of the theory of ice ages is sketched here from a broader
international perspective. This approach, applied to the present topic
for the first time, permits scientists not only from German and English-
speaking regions to be considered but also from Belgium, Denmark,
France, Norwey, Russia, Finland, Italy, the Baltics, and Sweden. This selec-
tion of nations reflects those most important in the science during the
19th century and thereby specifically intends to break with the generally
more patriotic approaches to recounting the beginnings of glacial geology.
A comparative account of various countries calls for a more sweeping
purview, however, so only decisive events can be granted closer scrutiny.
introduction 5
1.4 Method
5 On the development of the debate about man-made climate change since the mid-
1970s, with a focus on Germany, see Weingart and Engels 2002.
6 Haupt and Kocka 1996, 10.
6 chapter one
7 Crossland 1977.
introduction 7
1.5 Structure
1.6 Sources
one of his talks from 1836, in which he presented his historical reflections
on climatology, can also be found there. The autograph collection of Rudolf
Wolf in the Burgerbibliothek Bern, with letters by Swiss and foreign scien-
tists, is also worth special mention.9 In frequent instances these letters are
reprinted in full or in excerpt in smaller biographical portraits or accounts
in the history of science. In some cases, a perusal of archival finding aids
suffices to identify less-well-known scientists if they happen to have corre-
sponded with more-famous scientists of their day. One example would be
the list of correspondence with Arnold Escher von der Linth in the archive
of the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology (ETH) in Zürich. Archives of
scientific associations can also contain interesting files. The archive of the
Oekonomische Gesellschaft in Berne, for instance, has an advertisement
from 1781 for presumably the first glaciological research project in the
world. Contemporary articles in scholarly and scientific journals are by
far the most important and extensive source base for this book. The major
ones among these are briefly listed by country below, to give an idea of
the kind of publications used.
For Switzerland, A. Höpfner’s Magazin für die Naturkunde Helvetiens
from 1787 is notable. The proceedings of the Swiss Scientific Society,
the Verhandlungen der Schweizerischen Naturforschenden Gesellschaft,
appearing since 1815, were a central publishing organ for early contribu-
tions about ice-age theory. Its reach was particularly broad as it published
a parallel issue for its French-speaking membership: the Actes de la Société
Helvétique des Sciences Naturelles. Cantonal scientific associations played
an additional important role. For the 1840s and 1850s we mention the
Bulletin de la Société des Sciences naturelles de Neuchâtel and the Bulletin
des Séances de la Société vaudoise des Sciences naturelles. Scientific papers
published since the 1810s about glaciers and traces of formerly more exten-
sive glaciation are published in the Bibliothèque universelle, now located
in Geneva. These are often excerpts or reprints of studies published else-
where. After the Archives des Sciences physiques et naturelles branched off
from the Bibliothèque universelle, research articles on glacial geology from
Switzerland and abroad appeared there as well since 1845.10
In Germany, contributions on geological observations connected with
an earlier glaciation of northern Germany extend back to the 1760s. The
Only a few piano quartets have been written since those of Brahms
and Dvořák which are significant of any development or even of a
freshness of life. Those of Fauré have already been mentioned as
being perfect in style, but on the whole they seem less original and
less interesting than the quintet by the same composer. Saint-Saëns’
quartet, opus 41, is remarkable for the brilliant treatment of the
pianoforte, and the fine sense of instrumental style which it reveals,
but is on the whole uninteresting and is certainly insignificant
compared with the quartets of Fauré or those of d’Indy and
Chausson. D’Indy’s quartet, opus 7, in A minor is no longer a new
work, nor does it show in any striking way those qualities in French
music which have more recently come to splendid blooming. But it is
carefully wrought and the three movements are moderately
interesting. The second is perhaps the best music, the third is
certainly the most spirited. There is more of the manner though
perhaps less of the spirit of César Franck in Chausson’s quartet in A
major, opus 30.
III
As to sonatas, those for violin and piano are treated elsewhere.
There are too many to be discussed in this chapter. There are fewer
for the cello and the best of these may here be mentioned. Skill in
playing the violoncello was slower to develop than that in playing the
violin. This was probably because the viola da gamba with its six
strings was easier to play and was more in favor as a solo
instrument. The baryton was a kind of viola da gamba with
sympathetic strings stretched under the fingerboard, and even as
late as the maturity of Haydn this instrument was in general favor.
But the tone of the viola da gamba was lighter than that of the
violoncello, and so by the beginning of the eighteenth century the
cello was preferred to the gamba for the bass parts of works like
Corelli’s in concerted style. Little by little it rose into prominence from
this humble position. Meanwhile the immortal suites for the
violoncello alone by Bach had been written. Bach was probably
advised in the handling of the instrument by Abel, who was a famous
gamba player; so that it seems likely that these suites were
conceived for the gamba as much as for the cello.[84] The last of
them, however, was written especially for the viola pomposa, an
instrument which Bach invented himself. This was a small cello with
an extra string tuned to E, a fifth above the A of the cello.
Among composers who wrote expressly for the cello were Giorgio
Antoniotti, who lived in Milan about 1740, and Lanzetti, who was
'cellist to the king of Sardinia between 1730 and 1750. Later the
Italians A. Canavasso and Carlo Ferrari (b. 1730) became famous as
players, and Boccherini also was a brilliant cellist.
Beethoven wrote five sonatas for cello and piano. The first two, opus
5, were written in 1796, while Beethoven was staying in Berlin,
evidently with the intention of dedicating them to Frederick William II,
and for his own appearance in public with Duport. They are
noticeably finer, or more expressive works, than the early sonatas for
violin, opus 12; perhaps because the cello does not suggest a style
which, empty of meaning, is yet beautiful and effective by reason of
sheer brilliance. The violin sonatas, all of them except the last, are
largely virtuoso music. The cello sonatas are more serious and on
the whole more sober. This may be laid to thoroughly practical
reasons. The cello has not the variety of technical possibilities that
the violin has, nor even in such rapid passages as can be played
upon it can it give a brilliant or carrying tone. By reason of its low
register it can be all too easily overpowered by the piano. Only the
high notes on the A string can make themselves heard above a solid
or resonant accompaniment. Hence if the composer desires to write
a brilliant, showy sonata for pianoforte and cello, he can do so only
by sacrificing all but the topmost registers of the cello. Even at that
the piano is more than likely to put the cello wholly in the shade.
The next sonata, opus 69, in A major, was not written until twelve
years later. A different Beethoven speaks in it. The first theme,
announced at once by the cello alone, gives the key to the spirit of
the work. It is gentle (dolce) in character, but full of a quiet and
moving strength. After giving the first phrase of it alone the cello
holds a long low E, over which the piano lightly completes it. There is
a cadenza for piano, and then, after the piano has given the whole
theme once again, there is a short cadenza for cello, leading to a
short transition at the end of which one finds the singing second
theme. This is first given out by the piano over smooth scales by the
cello, and then the cello takes it up and the piano plays the scales.
Nothing could be more exquisite than the combination of these two
instruments in this altogether lovely sonata, which without effort
permits each in turn or together to reveal its most musical qualities.
Sometimes the cello is low and impressive, strong and independent,
while the piano is lively and sparkling, as in the closing parts of the
first section of the first movement. Again the cello has vigorous
rolling figures that bring out the fullest sonority the instrument is
capable of, while the piano adds the theme against such a vibrant
background, with no fear of drowning the cello, as in the first portions
of the development section.
Finally there are two sonatas, opus 102, which are in every way
representative of the Beethoven of the last pianoforte sonatas and
even the last quartets. The first of these—in C major—Beethoven
himself entitled a ‘free sonata,’ and the form is indeed free, recalling
the form of the A major pianoforte sonata, opus 101, upon which
Beethoven was working at the same time. In spirit, too, it is very like
the A major sonata, but lacks the more obvious melodic charm. The
sonata begins with an andante, in that singing yet mystical style
which characterizes so much of Beethoven’s last work, and the
andante does not end but seems to lose itself, to become absorbed
in a mist of trills, out of which there springs a vigorous allegro vivace,
in the dotted march rhythm which one finds in the later pianoforte
sonatas. After this, a short rhapsodical adagio brings us back to a bit
of the opening andante, which once more trills itself away, seems to
be snuffed out, as it were, by a sudden little phrase which, all
unexpected, announces the beginning of the final rondo.
There remains only to mention the sonata by Max Reger, opus 78,
two sonatas by Emanuel Moór, one by Guy Ropartz in G minor, two
by Camille Saint-Saëns, opus 32 and opus 123, as among those
which make a partial success of the extremely difficult combination.
If excellent music for cello and piano is so rare, music for the viola
and piano is almost entirely wanting. The two instruments do not go
well together. Practically the only example of the combination in the
works of the great masters is furnished by Schumann’s
Märchenbilder, which are but indifferent music. York Bowen, an
English composer, has considered it worthy of the sonata, and has
written two for it, one in C minor and one in F major. Mr. Benjamin
Dale has also written some agreeable pieces, including a suite and a
fantasy.
IV
There are relatively few works also in which the piano has been
combined with wind instruments. The wind instruments which have
been most employed in chamber music are the flute, oboe, clarinet,
and bassoon. Occasionally there is a short bit for horn, or for English
horn, and rarely something for trumpet or saxophone. No special
combination of these instruments either by themselves or with the
piano has obtained signal favor, and we may therefore confine
ourselves to mentioning with brief notice the various works of the
great masters in turn. We will include likewise here their chamber
works for wind instruments without pianoforte.
Of Haydn’s works we will only mention the two trios for flute and
violin and the octet for two oboes, two clarinets, two horns and two
bassoons. Most of Mozart’s works for wind instruments bear the
mark of some occasion. There are a great many Serenades and
Divertimenti, which can hardly be called representative of his best
and can hardly be distinguished from each other. Among the
interesting works are the concerto for flute and harp (K 299), the trio
for clarinet, viola and piano (K 498), the quintet for pianoforte, oboe,
clarinet, horn and bassoon (K 452), and the quintet for clarinet and
strings (K 581). The trio was composed in Vienna in August, 1786,
and is conspicuous for a fine handling of the viola. The clarinet is not
used at all in the lower registers, lest it interfere with the viola.
Mozart considered the quintet for piano and wind instruments at the
time he wrote it the best thing he had written. It was composed in
March, 1784, for a public concert and was received with great
applause. Jahn wrote of it that from beginning to end it was a true
triumph in the art of recognizing and adapting the peculiar
euphonious quality of each instrument. Doubtless it served as a
model for Beethoven’s composition in the same form.
The octet, opus 103, the sextet, opus 81, the sextet, opus 71, and
the quintet, opus 16, are all in the key of E-flat major, a key which is
favorable to all wood-wind instruments. The octet was written, as we
have said, in 1792. Beethoven rearranged it as a string quintet and
in that form it was published in 1796 as opus 4. In its original form
the chief rôle is taken by the oboe, especially in the slow second
movement, which has the touch of a pastoral idyl. The last
movement in rondo form offers the clarinets an opportunity in the first
episode. A Rondino for the same combination of instruments written
about the same time seems to forecast parts of Fidelio. The sextet
for two horns and string quartet is little more than a duet for the
horns with a string accompaniment.
We may pass over the trio for two oboes and English horn, published
as opus 87, and the flute duet written for his friend Degenhart on the
night of August 23, 1792. The sextet, opus 71, which Beethoven said
was written in a night, is none the less written with great care. The
prelude introduction and the cheerful style suggest some happy sort
of serenade music. The melody (bassoon) in the adagio is of great
beauty. There are, among its movements, a minuet and a lively
rondo in march rhythm.
The quintet, opus 16, in which the piano is joined with four
instruments may well have been suggested by Mozart’s quintet in
the same form; though Beethoven was a great pianist and had
already in an earlier trio and a sonata experimented in combining the
pianoforte with wind instruments. The wind instruments are here
treated as an independent group and the part for the piano is
brilliant. There is a richness of ideas throughout which raises the
work above the earlier compositions for wind.
The septet in E-flat, opus 20, for clarinet, horn, bassoon, violin, viola,
cello and double-bass, is undoubtedly the finest of Beethoven’s
works for combinations of wind instruments. It was written just before
1800 and was so full of joy and humor that those who had heard
Beethoven’s other works with a hostile ear were quite won over for
the time being by this. Technically it may be considered the result of
all his previous experiments. It is rather in the manner of a suite.
There is a slow prelude, an allegro con brio, an adagio cantabile, a
tempo di menuetto, which he later arranged for pianoforte and
incorporated in the little sonata, opus 49, No. 1, a theme and
variations, a scherzo, and a final presto, which is preceded by an
introductory andante of great beauty and of more seriousness than is
characteristic of the work as a whole. The success of the work is due
first to the freshness of the ideas, then to the skill with which they are
arranged for the difficult combination of instruments. For Beethoven
has made something of charm out of the very shortcomings of the
wind instruments. The short phrases, the straightforward character of
all the themes and motives, and the general simplicity all show these
necessarily restricted instruments at their very best.
Spohr, too, showed a special favor towards the clarinet and he, like
Weber, wrote two concertos for it. Three of Spohr’s works which
were broadly famous in their day and much beloved are the nonet for
strings, flute, oboe, clarinet, horn, and bassoon, opus 31; the octet
for violin, two violas, cello, double-bass, clarinet, and two horns,
opus 32; and the quintet for flute, clarinet, horn, bassoon, and piano.
The two former are delicately scored, but the latter is marred by the
piano. Some idea of the fervor with which Spohr’s music was loved
may be gained from the fact that Chopin, the most selective and
fastidiously critical of all composers, conceived Spohr’s nonet to be
one of the greatest works of music. Doubtless the perfection of style
delighted him, a virtue for which he was willing to forgive many a
weakness. At present Spohr’s music is in danger of being totally
neglected.