Title: Misinforming a Nation
Author: Wright, Willard Huntington
Language: English
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MISINFORMING A NATION



BOOKS BY MR. WRIGHT

    MISINFORMING A NATION
    MODERN PAINTING: Its Tendency and Meaning
    WHAT NIETZSCHE TAUGHT
    THE MAN OF PROMISE
    THE CREATIVE WILL

IN PREPARATION

    MODERN LITERATURE
    PRINCIPLES OF ÆSTHETIC FORM AND ORGANIZATION



                         _Misinforming a Nation_

                     _by Willard Huntington Wright_

                             [Illustration]

                  _New York_ _B. W. Huebsch_ _MCMXVII_

                           COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
                              B. W. HUEBSCH

                 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA



CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                                     PAGE

       I COLONIZING AMERICA                        1

      II THE NOVEL                                24

     III THE DRAMA                                52

      IV POETRY                                   68

       V BRITISH PAINTING                         85

      VI NON-BRITISH PAINTING                    102

     VII MUSIC                                   122

    VIII SCIENCE                                 148

      IX INVENTIONS, PHOTOGRAPHY, ÆSTHETICS      160

       X PHILOSOPHY                              174

      XI RELIGION                                195

     XII TWO HUNDRED OMISSIONS                   218



MISINFORMING A NATION



I

COLONIZING AMERICA


The intellectual colonization of America by England has been going
on for generations. Taking advantage of her position of authority—a
position built on centuries of æsthetic tradition—England has let
pass few opportunities to ridicule and disparage our activities in
all lines of creative effort, and to impress upon us her own assumed
cultural superiority. Americans, lacking that sense of security which
long-established institutions would give them, have been influenced
by the insular judgments of England, and, in an effort to pose as _au
courant_ of the achievements of the older world, have adopted in large
degree the viewpoint of Great Britain. The result has been that for
decades the superstition of England’s pre-eminence in the world of art
and letters has spread and gained power in this country. Our native
snobbery, both social and intellectual, has kept the fires of this
superstition well supplied with fuel; and in our slavish imitation
of England—the only country in Europe of which we have any intimate
knowledge—we have de-Americanized ourselves to such an extent that
there has grown up in us a typical British contempt for our own native
achievements.

One of the cardinal factors in this Briticization of our intellectual
outlook is the common language of England and America. Of all the
civilized nations of the world, we are most deficient as linguists.
Because of our inability to speak fluently any language save our own,
a great barrier exists between us and the Continental countries. But
no such barrier exists between America and England; and consequently
there is a constant exchange of ideas, beliefs, and opinions. English
literature is at our command; English criticism is familiar to us; and
English standards are disseminated among us without the impediment
of translation. Add to this lingual _rapprochement_ the traditional
authority of Great Britain, together with the social aspirations
of moneyed Americans, and you will have both the material and the
psychological foundation on which the great edifice of English culture
has been reared in this country.

The English themselves have made constant and liberal use of these
conditions. An old and disquieting jealousy, which is tinctured not a
little by resentment, has resulted in an open contempt for all things
American. And it is not unnatural that this attitude should manifest
itself in a condescending patronage which is far from being good-natured.
Our literature is derided; our artists are ridiculed; and in nearly
every field of our intellectual endeavor England has found grounds for
disparagement. It is necessary only to look through British newspapers
and critical journals to discover the contemptuous and not infrequently
venomous tone which characterizes the discussion of American culture.

At the same time, England grasps every opportunity for foisting her own
artists and artisans on this country. She it is who sets the standard
which at once demolishes our individual expression and glorifies the
efforts of Englishmen. Our publishers, falling in line with this
campaign, import all manner of English authors, eulogize them with the
aid of biased English critics, and neglect better writers of America
simply because they have displeased those gentlemen in London who sit in
judgment upon our creative accomplishments. Our magazines, edited for the
most part by timid nobodies whose one claim to intellectual distinction
is that they assiduously play the parrot to British opinion, fill their
publications with the work of English mediocrities and ignore the more
deserving contributions of their fellow-countrymen.

Even our educational institutions disseminate the English superstition
and neglect the great men of America; for nowhere in the United States
will you find the spirit of narrow snobbery so highly developed as in our
colleges and universities. Recently an inferior British poet came here,
and, for no other reason apparently save that he was English, he was made
a professor in one of our large universities! Certainly his talents did
not warrant this appointment, for there are at least a score of American
poets who are undeniably superior to this young Englishman. Nor has he
shown any evidences of scholarship which would justify the honor paid
him. But an Englishman, if he seek favors, needs little more than proof
of his nationality, whereas an American must give evidence of his worth.

England has shown the same ruthlessness and unscrupulousness in her
intellectual colonization of America as in her territorial colonizations;
and she has also exhibited the same persistent shrewdness. What is more,
this cultural extension policy has paid her lavishly. English authors, to
take but one example, regard the United States as their chief source of
income. If it were the highest English culture—that is, the genuinely
significant scholarship of the few great modern British creators—which
was forced upon America, there would be no cause for complaint. But the
governing influences in English criticism are aggressively middle-class
and chauvinistic, with the result that it is the British _bourgeois_ who
has stifled our individual expression, and misinformed us on the subject
of European culture.

No better instance of this fact can be pointed to than the utterly false
impression which America has of French attainments. French genius has
always been depreciated and traduced by the British; and no more subtle
and disgraceful campaign of derogation has been launched in modern times
than the consistent method pursued by the English in misinterpreting
French ideals and accomplishments to Americans. To England is due
largely, if not entirely, the uncomplimentary opinion that Americans
have of France—an opinion at once distorted and indecent. To the average
American a French novel is regarded merely as a salacious record of
adulteries. French periodicals are looked upon as collections of prurient
anecdotes and licentious pictures. And the average French painting is
conceived as a realistic presentation of feminine nakedness. So deeply
rooted are these conceptions that the very word “French” has become, in
the American’s vocabulary, an adjective signifying all manner of sexual
abnormalities, and when applied to a play, a story, or an illustration,
it is synonymous with “dirty” and “immoral.” This country has yet
to understand the true fineness of French life and character, or to
appreciate the glories of French art and literature; and the reason for
our distorted ideas is that French culture, in coming to America, has
been filtered through the nasty minds of middle-class English critics.

But it is not our biased judgment of the Continental nations that is
the most serious result of English misrepresentation; in time we will
come to realize how deceived we were in accepting England’s insinuations
that France is indecent, Germany stupid, Italy decadent, and Russia
barbarous. The great harm done by England’s contemptuous critics is
in belittling American achievement. Too long has _bourgeois_ British
culture been forced upon the United States; and we have been too gullible
in our acceptance of it without question. English critics and English
periodicals have consistently attempted to discourage the growth of any
national individualism in America, by ridiculing or ignoring our best
æsthetic efforts and by imposing upon us their own insular criteria.
To such an extent have they succeeded that an American author often
must go to England before he will be accepted by his own countrymen.
Thus purified by contact with English culture, he finds a way into our
appreciation.

But on the other hand, almost any English author—even one that England
herself has little use for—can acquire fame by visiting this country.
Upon his arrival he is interviewed by the newspapers; his picture appears
in the “supplements”; his opinions emblazon the headlines and are
discussed in editorials; and our publishers scramble for the distinction
of bringing out his wares. In this the publishers, primarily commercial,
reveal their business acumen, for they are not unaware of the fact that
the “literary” sections of our newspapers are devoted largely to British
authors and British letters. So firmly has the English superstition taken
hold of our publishers that many of them print their books with English
spelling. The reason for this un-American practice, so they explain, is
that the books may be ready for an English edition without resetting. The
English, however, do not use American spelling at all, though, as a rule,
the American editions of English books are much larger than the English
edition of American books. But the English do not like our spelling;
therefore we gladly arrange matters to their complete satisfaction.

The evidences of the American’s enforced belief in English superiority
are almost numberless. Apartment houses and suburban sub-divisions are
named after English hotels and localities. The belief extends even to the
manufacturers of certain brands of cigarettes which, for sale purposes,
are advertised as English, although it would be difficult to find a
box of them abroad. The American actor, in order to gain distinction,
apes the dress, customs, intonation and accent of Englishmen. His great
ambition is to be mistaken for a Londoner. This pose, however, is not all
snobbery: it is the outcome of an earnest desire to appear superior; and
so long has England insisted upon her superiority that many Americans
have come to adopt it as a cultural fetish.

Hitherto this exalted intellectual guidance has been charitably given us:
never before, as now, has a large fortune been spent to make America pay
handsomely for the adoption of England’s provincialism. I refer to the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ which, by a colossal campaign of flamboyant
advertising, has been scattered broadcast over every state in the union.

No more vicious and dangerous educational influence on America can
readily be conceived than the articles in this encyclopædia. They distort
the truth and disseminate false standards. America is now far enough
behind the rest of the civilized world in its knowledge of art, without
having added to that ignorance the erroneous impressions created by
this partial and disproportioned English work; for, in its treatment of
the world’s progress, it possesses neither universality of outlook nor
freedom from prejudice in its judgments—the two primary requisites for
any work which lays claim to educational merit. Taken as a whole, the
_Britannica’s_ divisions on culture are little more than a brief for
British art and science—a brief fraught with the rankest injustice toward
the achievements of other nations, and especially toward those of America.

The distinguishing feature of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ is its
petty national prejudice. This prejudice appears constantly and in many
disguises through the Encyclopædia’s pages. It manifests itself in the
most wanton carelessness in dealing with historical facts; in glaring
inadequacies when discussing the accomplishments of nations other than
England; in a host of inexcusable omissions of great men who do not
happen to be blessed with English nationality; in venom and denunciation
of viewpoints which do not happen to coincide with “English ways of
thinking”; and especially in neglect of American endeavor. Furthermore,
the _Britannica_ shows unmistakable signs of haste or carelessness
in preparation. Information is not always brought up to date. Common
proper names are inexcusably misspelled. Old errors remain uncorrected.
Inaccuracies abound. Important subjects are ignored. And only in the
field of English activity does there seem to be even an attempt at
completeness.

The _Encyclopædia Britannica_, if accepted unquestioningly throughout
this country as an authoritative source of knowledge, would retard our
intellectual development fully twenty years; for so one-sided is its
information, so distorted are its opinions, so far removed is it from
being an international and impartial reference work, that not only does
it give inadequate advice on vital topics, but it positively creates
false impressions. Second- and third-rate Englishmen are given space and
praise much greater than that accorded truly great men of other nations;
and the eulogistic attention paid English endeavor in general is out
of all proportion to its deserts. In the following chapters I shall
show specifically how British culture is glorified and exaggerated, and
with what injustice the culture of other countries is treated. And I
shall also show the utter failure of this Encyclopædia to fulfill its
claim of being a “universal” and “objective” reference library. To the
contrary, it will be seen that the _Britannica_ is a narrow, parochial,
opinionated work of dubious scholarship and striking unreliability.

With the somewhat obscure history of the birth of the Eleventh Edition of
the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, or with the part played in that history
by Cambridge University and the London _Times_, I am not concerned.
Nor shall I review the unethical record of the two issues of the
Encyclopædia. To those interested in this side of the question I suggest
that they read the following contributions in Reedy’s _Mirror_: _The
Same Old Slippery Trick_ (March 24, 1916). _The Encyclopædia Britannica
Swindle_ (April 7, 1916). _The Encyclopædia Britannica Fake_ (April 14,
1916); and also the article in the March 18 (1916) _Bellman_, _Once More
the Same Old Game_.

Such matters might be within the range of forgiveness if the contents
of the _Britannica_ were what were claimed for them. But that which
does concern me is the palpable discrepancies between the statements
contained in the advertising, and the truth as revealed by a perusal
of the articles and biographies contained in the work itself. The
statements insisted that the _Britannica_ was a _supreme_, _unbiased_,
and _international_ reference library—an impartial and objective review
of the world; and it was on these statements, repeated constantly,
that Americans bought the work. The truth is that the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_, in its main departments of culture, is characterized by
misstatements, inexcusable omissions, rabid and patriotic prejudices,
personal animosities, blatant errors of fact, scholastic ignorance, gross
neglect of non-British culture, an astounding egotism, and an undisguised
contempt for American progress.

Rarely has this country witnessed such indefensible methods in
advertising as those adopted by the _Britannica’s_ exploiters. The “copy”
has fairly screamed with extravagant and fabulous exaggerations. The
vocabulary of hyperbole has been practically exhausted in setting forth
the dubious merits of this reference work. The ethics and decencies of
ordinary honest commerce have been thrown to the wind. The statements
made day after day were apparently concocted irrespective of any
consideration save that of making a sale; for there is an abundance of
evidence to show that the Encyclopædia was not what was claimed for it.

With the true facts regarding this encyclopædia it is difficult to
reconcile the encomiums of many eminent Americans who, by writing
eulogistic letters to the _Britannica’s_ editor concerning the exalted
merits of his enterprise, revealed either their unfamiliarity with the
books in question or their ignorance of what constituted an educational
reference work. These letters were duly photographed and reproduced in
the advertisements, and they now make interesting, if disconcerting,
reading for the non-British student who put his faith in them and bought
the _Britannica_. There is no need here to quote from these letters;
for a subsequent inspection of the work thus recommended must have
sufficiently mortified those of the enthusiastic correspondents who were
educated and had consciences; and the others would be unmoved by any
revelations of mine.

Mention, however, should be made of the remarks of the American
Ambassador to Great Britain at the banquet given in London to celebrate
the Encyclopædia’s birth. This gentleman, in an amazing burst of
unrestrained laudation, said he believed that “it is the general judgment
of the scholars and the investigators of the world that the one book
to which they can go for the most complete, comprehensive, thorough,
and absolutely precise statements of fact upon every subject of human
interest is the _Encyclopædia Britannica_.” This is certainly an
astonishing bit of eulogy. Its dogmatic positiveness and its assumption
of infallibility caused one critic (who is also a great scholar) to
write: “With all due respect for our illustrious fellow-countryman,
the utterance is a most superlative absurdity, unless it was intended
to be an exercise of that playful and elusive American humor which the
apperceptions of our English cousins so often fail to seize, much less
appreciate.” But there were other remarks of similar looseness at the
banquet, and the dinner evidently was a greater success than the books
under discussion.

Even the English critics themselves could not accept the _Britannica_
as a source for “the most comprehensive, thorough and absolutely
precise statements on every subject of human interest.” Many legitimate
objections began appearing. There is space here to quote only a few. The
London _Nation_ complains that “the particularly interesting history
of the French Socialist movement is hardly even sketched.” And again
it says: “The naval question is handled on the basis of the assumption
which prevailed during our recent scare; the challenge of our Dreadnought
building is hardly mentioned; the menace of M. Delcassé’s policy of
encirclement is ignored, and both in the article on Germany and in
the articles on Europe, Mr. McKenna’s panic figures and charges of
accelerated building are treated as the last word of historical fact.”
The same publication, criticising the article on Europe, says: “There
is nothing but a dry and summarized general history, ending with a
paragraph or two on the Anglo-German struggle with the moral that ‘Might
is Right.’ It is history of Europe which denies the idea of Europe.”

Again, we find evidence of a more direct character, which competently
refutes the amazing announcement of our voluble Ambassador to Great
Britain. In a letter to the London _Times_, an indignant representative
of Thomas Carlyle’s family objects to the inaccurate and biased manner
in which Carlyle is treated in the Encyclopædia. “The article,” he says,
“was evidently written many years ago, before the comparatively recent
publication of new and authentic material, and nothing has been done to
bring it up to date.... As far as I know, none of the original errors
have been corrected, and many others of a worse nature have been added.
The list of authorities on Carlyle’s life affords evidence of ignorance
or partisanship.”

“Evidently,” comments a shrewd critic who is not impressed either by the
Ambassador’s panegyric or the photographed letters, “the great man’s
family, and the public in general, have a reasonable cause of offense,
and they may also conclude that if the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ can
blunder when handling such an approachable and easy British subject as
Carlyle, it can be reasonably expected to do worse on other matters
which are not only absolutely foreign, but intensely distasteful to the
uninformed and prejudiced scribes to whom they seem to be so frequently,
if not systematically, assigned.”

The expectation embodied in the above comment is more fully realized
perhaps than the writer of those words imagined; and the purpose of
this book is to reveal the blundering and misleading information which
would appear to be the distinguishing quality of the _Britannica’s_
articles on culture. Moreover, as I have said, and as I shall show
later, few subjects are as “intensely distasteful” to the “uninformed
and prejudiced” British critics as is American achievement. One finds
it difficult to understand how any body of foreigners would dare offer
America the brazen insult which is implied in the prodigal distribution
of these books throughout the country; for in their unconquerable
arrogance, their unveiled contempt for this nation—the outgrowth of
generations of assumed superiority—they surpass even the London critical
articles dealing with our contemporary literary efforts.

Several of our more courageous and pro-American scholars have called
attention to the inadequacies and insularities in the _Britannica_, but
their voices have not been sufficiently far-reaching to counteract
either the mass or the unsavory character of the advertising by which
this unworthy and anti-American encyclopædia was foisted upon the United
States. Conspicuous among those publications which protested was the
_Twentieth Century Magazine_. That periodical, to refer to but one of
its several criticisms, pointed out that the article on _Democracy_ is
“confined to the alleged democracies of Greece and their distinguished,
if some time dead, advocates. Walt Whitman, Mazzini, Abraham Lincoln,
Edward Carpenter, Lyof Tolstoi, Switzerland, New Zealand, Australia,
Finland, Iceland, Oregon are unknown quantities to this anonymous
classicist.”

It is also noted that the author of the articles on _Sociology_ “is
not very familiar with the American sociologists, still less with the
German, and not at all with the French.” The article is “a curious
evidence of editorial insulation,” and the one on _Economics_ “betrays
freshened British capitalistic insularity.” In this latter article,
which was substituted for Professor Ingram’s masterly and superb history
of political economy in the _Britannica’s_ Ninth Edition, “instead of
a catholic, scientific survey of economic thought, we have a ‘fair
trade’ pamphlet, which actually includes reference to Mr. Chamberlain,”
although the names of Henry George, Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, John A.
Hobson, and William Smart are omitted.

The Eleventh Edition, concludes the _Twentieth Century_, after recording
many other specimens of ignorance and inefficiency, “is not only insular;
it betrays its class-conscious limitation in being woefully defective in
that prophetic instinct which guided Robertson Smith in his choice of
contributors to the Ninth Edition, and the contributors themselves in
their treatment of rapidly changing subjects.” Robertson Smith, let it be
noted, stood for fairness, progressiveness, and modernity; whereas the
_Britannica’s_ present editor is inflexibly reactionary, provincial, and
unjust to an almost incredible degree.

The foregoing quotations are not isolated objections: there were others
of similar nature. And these few specimens are put down here merely
to show that there appeared sufficient evidence, both in England and
America, to establish the purely imaginary nature of the _Britannica’s_
claims of completeness and inerrancy, and to reveal the absurdity of
the American Ambassador’s amazing pronouncement. Had the sale of the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ been confined to that nation whose culture it
so persistently and dogmatically glorifies at the expense of the culture
of other nations, its parochial egotism would not be America’s concern.
But since this reference work has become an American institution and
has forced its provincial mediocrity into over 100,000 American homes,
schools and offices, the astonishing truth concerning its insulting
ineptitude has become of vital importance to this country. Its menace to
American educational progress can no longer be ignored.

England’s cultural campaign in the United States during past decades
has been sufficiently insidious and pernicious to work havoc with our
creative effort, and to retard us in the growth of that self-confidence
and self-appreciation which alone make the highest achievement possible.
But never before has there been so concentrated and virulently inimical a
medium for British influence as the present edition of the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_. These books, taken in conjunction with the methods by which
they have been foisted upon us, constitute one of the most subtle and
malign dangers to our national enlightenment and development which it has
yet been our misfortune to possess; for they bid fair to remain, in large
measure, the source of America’s information for many years to come.

The regrettable part of England’s intellectual intrigues in the United
States is the subservient and docile acquiescence of Americans
themselves. Either they are impervious to England’s sneers and deaf to
her insults, or else their snobbery is stronger than their self-respect.
I have learned from Britishers themselves, during an extended residence
in London, that not a little of their contempt for Americans is due to
our inordinate capacity for taking insults. Year after year English
animus grows; and to-day it is the uncommon thing to find an English
publication which, in discussing the United States and its culture, does
not contain some affront to our intelligence.

It is quite true, as the English insist, that we are painfully ignorant
of Europe; but it must not be forgotten that the chief source of that
ignorance is England herself. And the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, if
accepted as authoritative, will go far toward emphasizing and extending
that ignorance. Furthermore, it will lessen even the meagre esteem in
which we now hold our own accomplishments and potentialities; for,
as the following pages will show, the _Britannica_ has persistently
discriminated against all American endeavor, not only in the brevity
of the articles and biographies relating to this country and in the
omissions of many of our leading artists and scientists, but in the
bibliographies as well. And it must be remembered that broad and
unprejudiced bibliographies are essential to any worthy encyclopædia:
they are the key to the entire tone of the work. The conspicuous
absence of many high American authorities, and the inclusion of
numerous reactionary and often dubious English authorities, sum up the
_Britannica’s_ attitude.

However, as I have said, America, if the principal, is not the only
country discriminated against. France has fallen a victim to the
Encyclopædia’s suburban patriotism, and scant justice is done her
true greatness. Russia, perhaps even more than France, is culturally
neglected; and modern Italy’s æsthetic achievements are given slight
consideration. Germany’s science and her older culture fare much better
at the hands of the _Britannica’s_ editors than do the efforts of several
other nations; but Germany, too, suffers from neglect in the field of
modern endeavor.

Even Ireland does not escape English prejudice. In fact, it can be only
on grounds of national, political, and personal animosity that one can
account for the grossly biased manner in which Ireland, her history
and her culture, is dealt with. To take but one example, regard the
_Britannica’s_ treatment of what has come to be known as the Irish
Literary Revival. Among those conspicuous, and in one or two instances
world-renowned, figures who do not receive biographies are J. M. Synge,
Lady Gregory, Lionel Johnson, Douglas Hyde, and William Larminie.
(Although Lionel Johnson’s name appears in the article on _English_
literature, it does not appear in the Index—a careless omission which, in
victimizing an Irishman and not an Englishman, is perfectly in keeping
with the deliberate omissions of the _Britannica_.)

Furthermore, there are many famous Irish writers whose names are not
so much as mentioned in the entire Encyclopædia—for instance, Standish
O’Grady, James H. Cousins, John Todhunter, Katherine Tynan, T. W.
Rolleston, Nora Hopper, Jane Barlow, Emily Lawless, “A. E.” (George W.
Russell), John Eglinton, Charles Kickam, Dora Sigerson Shorter, Shan
Bullock, and Seumas MacManus. Modern Irish literature is treated with a
brevity and an injustice which are nothing short of contemptible; and
what little there is concerning the new Irish renaissance is scattered
here and there in the articles on _English_ literature! Elsewhere I
have indicated other signs of petty anti-Irish bias, especially in the
niggardly and stupid treatment accorded George Moore.

Although such flagrant inadequacies in the case of European art would
form a sufficient basis for protest, the really serious grounds for our
indignation are those which have to do with the _Britannica’s_ neglect
of America. That is why I have laid such emphasis on this phase of the
Encyclopædia. It is absolutely necessary that this country throw off the
yoke of England’s intellectual despotism before it can have a free field
for an individual and national cultural evolution. America has already
accomplished much. She has contributed many great figures to the world’s
progress. And she is teeming with tremendous and splendid possibilities.
To-day she stands in need of no other nation’s paternal guidance. In
view of her great powers, of her fine intellectual strength, of her
wide imagination, of her already brilliant past, and of her boundless
and exalted future, such a work as the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ should
be resented by every American to whom the welfare of his country is of
foremost concern, and in whom there exists one atom of national pride.



II

THE NOVEL


Let us inspect first the manner in which the world’s great modern
novelists and story-tellers are treated in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_.
No better department could be selected for the purpose; for literature is
the most universal and popular art. The world’s great figures in fiction
are far more widely known than those in painting or music; and since it
is largely through literature that a nation absorbs its cultural ideas,
especial interest attaches to the way that writers are interpreted and
criticised in an encyclopædia.

It is disappointing, therefore, to discover the distorted and unjust
viewpoint of the _Britannica_. An aggressive insular spirit is shown in
both the general literary articles and in the biographies. The importance
of English writers is constantly exaggerated at the expense of foreign
authors. The number of biographies of British writers included in the
Encyclopædia far overweighs the biographical material accorded the
writers of other nations. And superlatives of the most sweeping kind are
commonly used in describing the genius of these British authors, whereas
in the majority of cases outside of England, criticism, when offered at
all, is cool and circumscribed and not seldom adverse. There are few
British writers of any note whatever who are not taken into account;
but many authors of very considerable importance belonging to France,
Germany, Italy, Russia, and the United States are omitted entirely.

In the Encyclopædia’s department of literature, as in other departments
of the arts, the pious middle-class culture of England is carefully and
consistently forced to the front. English provincialism and patriotism
not only dominate the criticism of this department, but dictate the
amount of space which is allotted the different nations. The result
is that one seeking in this encyclopædia adequate and unprejudiced
information concerning literature will fail completely in his quest.
No mention whatever is made of many of the world’s great novelists
(provided, of course, they do not happen to be British); and the
information given concerning the foreign authors who are included is, on
the whole, meagre and biased. If, as is natural, one should judge the
relative importance of the world’s novelists by the space devoted to
them, one could not escape the impression that the literary genius of
the world resides almost exclusively in British writers.

This prejudiced and disproportionate treatment of literature would not
be so regrettable if the _Britannica’s_ criticisms were cosmopolitan in
character, or if its standard of judgment was a purely literary one.
But the criteria of the Encyclopædia’s editors are, in the main, moral
and puritanical. Authors are judged not so much by their literary and
artistic merits as by their _bourgeois_ virtue, their respectability
and inoffensiveness. Consequently it is not even the truly great
writers of Great Britain who are recommended the most highly, but those
middle-class literary idols who teach moral lessons and whose purpose it
is to uplift mankind. The Presbyterian complex, so evident throughout
the Encyclopædia’s critiques, finds in literature a fertile field for
operation.

Because of the limitations of space, I shall confine myself in this
chapter to modern literature. I have, however, inspected the manner in
which the older literature is set forth in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_;
and there, as elsewhere, is discernible the same provincialism, the same
theological point of view, the same flamboyant exaggeration of English
writers, the same neglect of foreign genius. As a reference book the
_Britannica_ is chauvinistic, distorted, inadequate, disproportioned,
and woefully behind the times. Despite the fact that the Eleventh Edition
is supposed to have been brought up to date, few recent writers are
included, and those few are largely second-rate writers of Great Britain.

Let us first regard the gross discrepancies in space between the
biographies of English authors and those of the authors of other
nations. To begin with, the number of biographies of English writers
is nearly as many as is given all the writers of France and Germany
combined. Sir Walter Scott is given no less than thirteen columns,
whereas Balzac has only seven columns, Victor Hugo only a little over
four columns, and Turgueniev only a little over one column. Samuel
Richardson is given nearly four columns, whereas Flaubert has only two
columns, Dostoievsky less than two columns, and Daudet only a column
and a third! Mrs. Oliphant is given over a column, more space than is
allotted to Anatole France, Coppée, or the Goncourts. George Meredith is
given six columns, more space than is accorded Flaubert, de Maupassant
and Zola put together! Bulwer-Lytton has two columns, more space than
is given Dostoievsky. Dickens is given two and a half times as much
space as Victor Hugo; and George Eliot, Trollope, and Stevenson each has
considerably more space than de Maupassant, and nearly twice as much
space as Flaubert. Anthony Hope has almost an equal amount of space with
Turgueniev, nearly twice as much as Gorky, and more than William Dean
Howells. Kipling, Barrie, Mrs. Gaskell, Mrs. Humphry Ward, and Felicia
Hemans are each accorded more space than either Zola or Mark Twain....
Many more similar examples of injustice could be given, but enough
have been set down to indicate the manner in which British authors are
accorded an importance far beyond their deserts.

Of Jane Austen, to whom is given more space than to either Daudet or
Turgueniev, we read that “it is generally agreed by the best critics
that Miss Austen has never been approached in her own domain.” What, one
wonders, of Balzac’s stories of provincial life? Did he, after all, not
even approach Miss Austen? Mrs. Gaskell’s _Cranford_ “is unanimously
accepted as a classic”; and she is given an equal amount of space with
Dostoievsky and Flaubert!

George Eliot’s biography draws three and a half columns, twice as much
space as Stendhal’s, and half again as much as de Maupassant’s. In it
we encounter the following astonishing specimen of criticism: No right
estimate of her as an artist or a philosopher “can be formed without a
steady recollection of her infinite capacity for mental suffering, and
her need of human support.” Just what these conditions have to do with an
æsthetic or philosophic judgment of her is not made clear; but the critic
finally brings himself to add that “one has only to compare _Romola_ or
_Daniel Deronda_ with the compositions of any author except herself to
realize the greatness of her designs and the astonishing gifts brought to
their final accomplishment.”

The evangelical _motif_ enters more strongly in the biography of George
Macdonald, who draws about equal space with Gorky, Huysmans, and Barrès.
Here we learn that Macdonald’s “moral enthusiasm exercised great
influence upon thoughtful minds.” Ainsworth, the author of those shoddy
historical melodramas, _Jack Sheppard_ and _Guy Fawkes_, is also given a
biography equal in length to that of Gorky, Huysmans, and Barrès; and we
are told that he wrote tales which, despite all their shortcomings, were
“invariably instructive, clean and manly.” Mrs. Ewing, too, profited by
her pious proclivities, for her biography takes up almost as much space
as that of the “moral” Macdonald and the “manly” Ainsworth. Her stories
are “sound and wholesome in matter,” and besides, her best tales “have
never been surpassed in the style of literature to which they belong.”

Respectability and moral refinement were qualities also possessed by G.
P. R. James, whose biography is equal in length to that of William Dean
Howells. In it there is quite a long comparison of James with Dumas,
though it is frankly admitted that as an artist James was inferior. His
plots were poor, his descriptions were weak, and his dialogue was bad.
Therefore “his very best books fall far below _Les Trois Mousquetaires_.”
But, it is added, “James never resorted to illegitimate methods to
attract readers, and deserves such credit as may be due to a purveyor of
amusement who never caters to the less creditable tastes of his guests.”
In other words, say what you will about James’s technique, he was, at any
rate, an upright and impeccable gentleman!

Even Mrs. Sarah Norton’s lofty moral nature is rewarded with biographical
space greater than that of Huysmans or Gorky. Mrs. Norton, we learn, “was
not a mere writer of elegant trifles, but was one of the priestesses
of the ‘reforming’ spirit.” One of her books was “a most eloquent and
rousing condemnation of child labor”; and her poems were “written with
charming tenderness and grace.” Great, indeed, are the rewards of
virtue, if not in life, at least in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_.

On the other hand, several English authors are condemned for their
lack of nicety and respectability. Trollope, for instance, lacked that
elegance and delicacy of sentiment so dear to the Encyclopædia editor’s
heart. “He is,” we read, “sometimes absolutely vulgar—that is to say, he
does not deal with low life, but shows, though always robust and pure in
morality, a certain coarseness of taste.”

Turning from the vulgar but pure Trollope to Charles Reade, we find more
of this same kind of criticism: “His view of human life, especially of
the life of women, is almost brutal ... and he cannot, with all his skill
as a story-teller, be numbered among the great artists who warm the heart
and help to improve the conduct.” (Here we have the _Britannica’s_ true
attitude toward literature. That art, in order to be great, must warm
the heart, improve the conduct, and show one the way to righteousness.)
Nor is Ouida to be numbered among the great uplifters. In her derogatory
half-column biography we are informed that “on grounds of morality
of taste Ouida’s novels may be condemned” as they are “frequently
unwholesome.”

Two typical examples of the manner in which truly great English writers,
representative of the best English culture, are neglected in favor of
those writers who epitomize England’s provincial piety, are to be found
in the biographies of George Moore and Joseph Conrad, neither of whom
is concerned with improving the readers’ conduct or even with warming
their hearts. These two novelists, the greatest modern authors which
England has produced, are dismissed peremptorily. Conrad’s biography
draws but eighteen lines, about one-third of the space given to Marie
Corelli; and the only praise accorded him is for his vigorous style and
brilliant descriptions. In this superficial criticism we have an example
of ineptitude, if not of downright stupidity, rarely equaled even by
newspaper reviewers. Not half of Conrad’s books are mentioned, the last
one to be recorded being dated 1906, nearly eleven years ago! Yet this is
the Encyclopædia which is supposed to have been brought up to date and to
be adequate for purposes of reference!

In the case of George Moore there is less excuse for such gross injustice
(save that he is Irish), for Moore has long been recognized as one of
the great moderns. Yet his biography draws less space than that of Jane
Porter, Gilbert Parker, Maurice Hewlett, Rider Haggard, or H. G. Wells;
half of the space given to Anthony Hope; and only a fourth of the space
given to Mrs. Gaskell and to Mrs. Humphry Ward! _A Mummer’s Wife_, we
learn, has “decidedly repulsive elements”; and the entire criticism
of _Esther Waters_, admittedly one of the greatest of modern English
novels, is that it is “a strong story with an anti-gambling motive.” It
would seem almost incredible that even the tin-pot evangelism of the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ would be stretched to such a length,—but there
you have the criticism of _Esther Waters_ set down word for word. The
impelling art of this novel means nothing to the Encyclopedia’s critic;
he cannot see the book’s significance; nor does he recognize its admitted
importance to modern literature. To him it is an anti-gambling tract! And
because, perhaps, he can find no uplift theme in _A Mummer’s Wife_, that
book is repulsive to him. Such is the culture America is being fed on—at
a price.

Thomas Hardy, another one of England’s important moderns, is condemned
for his attitude toward women: his is a “man’s point of view” and “more
French than English.” (We wonder if this accounts for the fact that the
sentimental James M. Barrie is accorded more space and greater praise.)
Samuel Butler is another intellectual English writer who has apparently
been sacrificed on the altar of Presbyterian respectability. He is
given less than a column, a little more than half the space given the
patriotic, tub-thumping Kipling, and less than half the space given
Felicia Hemans. Nor is there any criticism of his work. _The Way of all
Flesh_ is merely mentioned in the list of his books. Gissing, another
highly enlightened English writer, is accorded less space than Jane
Porter, only about half the space given Anthony Hope, and less space than
is drawn by Marie Corelli! There is almost no criticism of his work—a
mere record of facts.

Mrs. M. E. Braddon, however, author of _The Trail of the Serpent_ and
_Lady Audley’s Secret_, is criticised in flattering terms. The biography
speaks of her “large and appreciative public,” and apology is made for
her by the statement that her works give “the great body of readers of
fiction exactly what they require.” But why an apology is necessary one
is unable to say since _Aurora Floyd_ is “a novel with a strong affinity
to _Madame Bovary_.” Mrs. Braddon and Flaubert! Truly a staggering
alliance!

Mrs. Henry Wood, the author of _East Lynne_, is given more space than
Conrad; and her _Johnny Ludlow_ tales are “the most artistic” of her
works. But the “artistic” Mrs. Wood has no preference over Julia
Kavanagh. This latter lady, we discover, draws equal space with Marcel
Prévost; and she “handles her French themes with fidelity and skill.”
Judging from this praise and the fact that Prévost gets no praise but is
accused of having written an “exaggerated” and “revolting” book, we can
only conclude that the English authoress handles her French themes better
than does Prévost.

George Meredith is accorded almost as much biographical space as Balzac;
and in the article there appears such qualifying words as “seer,”
“greatness,” and “master.” The impression given is that he was greater
than Balzac. In Jane Porter’s biography, which is longer than that of
Huysmans, we read of her “picturesque power of narration.” Even of
Samuel Warren, to whom three-fourths of a column is allotted (more space
than is given to Bret Harte, Lafcadio Hearn, or Gorky), it is said that
the interest in _Ten Thousand a Year_ “is made to run with a powerful
current.”

Power also is discovered in the works of Lucas Malet. _The Wages of Sin_
was “a powerful story” which “attracted great attention”; and her next
book “had an even greater success.” Joseph Henry Shorthouse, who is given
more space than Frank Norris and Stephen Crane combined, possessed “high
earnestness of purpose, a luxuriant style and a genuinely spiritual
quality.” Though lacking dramatic facility and a workmanlike conduct of
narrative, “he had almost every other quality of the born novelist.”
After this remark it is obviously necessary to revise our æsthetic
judgment in regard to the religious author of _John Inglesant_.

Grant Allen, alas! lacked the benevolent qualities of the “spiritual”
Mr. Shorthouse, and—as a result, no doubt—he is given less space, and
his work and vogue are spoken of disparagingly. One of his books was
a _succès de scandale_ “on account of its treatment of the sexual
problem.” Mr. Allen apparently neither “warmed the heart” nor “improved
the conduct” of his audience. On the other hand, Mrs. Oliphant, in a
long biography, is praised for her “sympathetic touch”; and we learn
furthermore that she was long and “honorably” connected with the firm
of Blackwood. Maurice Hewlett has nearly a half-column biography full
of praise. Conan Doyle, also, is spoken of highly. Kipling’s biography,
longer than Mark Twain’s, Bourget’s, Daudet’s, or Gogol’s, also contains
praise. In H. G. Wells’s biography, which is longer than that of George
Moore, “his very high place” as a novelist is spoken of; and Anthony
Hope draws abundant praise in a biography almost as long as that of
Turgueniev!

In the treatment of Mrs. Humphry Ward, however, we have the key to the
literary attitude of the Encyclopædia. Here is an author who epitomizes
that middle-class respectability which forms the _Britannica’s_ editors’
standard of artistic judgment, and who represents that virtuous suburban
culture which colors the Encyclopædia’s art departments. It is not
surprising therefore that, of all recent novelists, she should be given
the place of honor. Her biography extends to a column and two-thirds,
much longer than the biography of Turgueniev, Zola, Daudet, Mark Twain,
or Henry James; and over twice the length of William Dean Howells’s
biography. Even more space is devoted to her than is given to the
biography of Poe!

Nor in this disproportionate amount of space alone is Mrs. Ward’s
superiority indicated. The article contains the most fulsome praise, and
we are told that her “eminence among latter-day women novelists arises
from her high conception of the art of fiction and her strong grasp on
intellectual and social problems, her descriptive power ... and her
command of a broad and vigorous prose style.” (The same enthusiastic
gentleman who wrote Mrs. Ward’s biography also wrote the biography of
Oscar Wilde. The latter is given much less space, and the article on
him is a petty, contemptible attack written from the standpoint of a
self-conscious puritan.)

Thackeray is given equal space with Balzac, and in the course of his
biography it is said that some have wanted to compare him with Dickens
but that such a comparison would be unprofitable. “It is better to
recognize simply that the two novelists stood, each in his own way,
distinctly above even their most distinguished contemporaries.” (Both
Balzac and Victor Hugo were their contemporaries, and to say that
Thackeray stood “distinctly above” them is to butcher French genius to
make an English holiday.)

In Dickens’s biography, which is nearly half again as long as that of
Balzac and nearly two and a half times as long as that of Hugo, we
encounter such words and phrases as “masterpieces” and “wonderful books.”
No books of his surpassed the early chapters of _Great Expectations_
in “perfection of technique or in the mastery of all the resources of
the novelist’s art.” Here, as in many other places, patriotic license
has obviously been permitted to run wild. Where, outside of provincial
England, will you find another critic, no matter how appreciative of
Dickens’s talent, who will agree that he possessed “perfection of
technique” and a “mastery of all the resources of the novelist’s art”?
But, as if this perfervid rhetoric were not sufficiently extreme,
Swinburne is quoted as saying that to have created Abel Magwitch alone is
to be a god indeed among the creators of deathless men. (This means that
Dickens was a god beside the mere mundane creator of Lucien de Rubempré,
Goriot, and Eugénie Grandet.) And, again, on top of this unreasoned
enthusiasm, it is added that in “intensity and range of creative genius
he can hardly be said to have any modern rival.”

Let us turn to Balzac who was not, according to this encyclopædia, even
Dickens’s rival in intensity and range of creative genius. Here we find
derogatory criticism which indeed bears out the contention of Dickens’s
biographer that the author of _David Copperfield_ was superior to the
author of _Lost Illusions_. Balzac, we read, “is never quite real.” His
style “lacks force and adequacy to his own purpose.” And then we are
given this final bit of insular criticism: “It is idle to claim for
Balzac an absolute supremacy in the novel, while it may be questioned
whether any single book of his, or any scene of a book, or even any
single character or situation, is among the very greatest books, scenes,
characters, situations in literature.” Alas, poor Balzac!—the inferior
of both Dickens and Thackeray—the writer who, if the judgment of the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ is to be accepted, created no book, scene,
character or situation which is among the greatest! Thus are the world’s
true geniuses disparaged for the benefit of moral English culture.

De Vigny receives adverse criticism. He is compared unfavorably to Sir
Walter Scott, and is attacked for his “pessimistic” philosophy. De Musset
“had genius, though not genius of that strongest kind which its possessor
can always keep in check”—after the elegant and repressed manner of
English writers, no doubt. De Musset’s own character worked “against his
success as a writer,” and his break with George Sand “brought out the
weakest side of his moral character.” (Again the church-bell _motif_.)
Gautier, that sensuous and un-English Frenchman, wrote a book called
_Mademoiselle de Maupin_ which was “unfitted by its subject, and in parts
by its treatment, for general perusal.”

Dumas _père_ is praised, largely we infer, because his work was
sanctioned by Englishmen: “The three musketeers are as famous in England
as in France. Thackeray could read about Athos from sunrise to sunset
with the utmost contentment of mind, and Robert Louis Stevenson and
Andrew Lang have paid tribute to the band.” Pierre Loti, however, in a
short biography, hardly meets with British approval. “Many of his best
books are long sobs of remorseful memory, so personal, so intimate, that
an English reader is amazed to find such depth of feeling compatible
with the power of minutely and publicly recording what is felt.” Loti,
like de Musset, lacked that prudish restraint which is so admirable
a virtue in English writers. Daudet, in a short and very inadequate
biography, is written down as an imitator of Dickens; and in Anatole
France’s biography, which is shorter than Marryat’s or Mrs. Oliphant’s,
no adequate indication of his genius is given.

Zola is treated with greater unfairness than perhaps any other French
author. Zola has always been disliked in England, and his English
publisher was jailed by the guardians of British morals. But it is
somewhat astonishing to find to what lengths this insular prejudice has
gone in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. Zola’s biography, which is shorter
than Mrs. Humphry Ward’s, is written by a former Accountant General
of the English army, and contains adverse comment because he did not
idealize “the nobler elements in human nature,” although, it is said,
“his later books show improvement.” Such scant treatment of Zola reveals
the unfairness of extreme prejudice, for no matter what the nationality,
religion, or taste of the critic, he must, in all fairness, admit that
Zola is a more important and influential figure in modern letters than
Mrs. Humphry Ward.

In the biography of George Sand we learn that “as a thinker, George
Eliot is vastly [_sic_] superior; her knowledge is more profound, and
her psychological analysis subtler and more scientific.” Almost nothing
is said of Constant’s writings; and in the mere half-column sketch
of Huysmans there are only a few biographical facts with a list of
his books. Of Stendhal there is practically no criticism; and Coppée
“exhibits all the defects of his qualities.” René Bazin draws only
seventeen lines—a bare record of facts; and Édouard Rod is given a third
of a column with no criticism.

Despite the praise given Victor Hugo, his biography, from a critical
standpoint, is practically worthless. In it there is no sense of critical
proportion: it is a mere panegyric which definitely states that Hugo
was greater than Balzac. This astonishing and incompetent praise is
accounted for when we discover that it was written by Swinburne who, as
is generally admitted, was a better poet than critic. In fact, turning
to Swinburne’s biography, we find the following valuation of Swinburne
as critic: “The very qualities which gave his poetry its unique charm
and character were antipathetic to his success as a critic. He had very
little capacity for cool and reasoned judgment, and his criticism is
often a tangled thicket of prejudices and predilections.... Not one of
his studies is satisfactory as a whole; the faculty for the sustained
exercise of the judgment was denied him, and even his best appreciations
are disfigured by error in taste and proportion.”

Here we have the Encyclopædia’s own condemnation of some of its
material—a personal and frank confession of its own gross inadequacy
and bias! And Swinburne, let it be noted, contributes no less than ten
articles on some of the most important literary men in history! If the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ was as naïf and honest about revealing the
incapacity of all of its critics as it is in the case of Swinburne,
there would be no need for me to call attention to those other tangled
thickets of prejudices and predilections which have enmeshed so many of
the gentlemen who write for it.

But the inadequacy of the _Britannica_ as a reference book on modern
French letters can best be judged by the fact that there appears no
biographical mention whatever of Romain Rolland, Pierre de Coulevain,
Tinayre, René Boylesve, Jean and Jérôme Tharaud, Henry Bordeaux, or
Pierre Mille. Rolland is the most gifted and conspicuous figure of the
new school of writers in France to-day, and the chief representative of
a new phase of French literature. Pierre de Coulevain stands at the head
of the women novelists in modern France; and her books are widely known
in both England and America. Madame Tinayre’s art, to quote an eminent
English critic, “reflects the dawn of the new French spirit.” Boylesve
stands for the classic revival in French letters, and ranks in the
forefront of contemporary European writers. The Tharauds became famous as
novelists as far back as 1902, and hold a high place among the writers of
Young France. Bordeaux’s novels have long been familiar in translation
even to American readers; and Pierre Mille holds very much the same place
in France that Kipling does in England. Yet not only does not one of
these noteworthy authors have a biography, but their names do not appear
throughout the entire Encyclopædia!

In the article on _French Literature_ the literary renaissance of Young
France is not mentioned. There apparently has been no effort at making
the account modern or up-to-date in either its critical or historical
side; and if you desire information on the recent activities in French
letters—activities of vital importance and including several of the
greatest names in contemporary literature—you need not seek it in the
_Britannica_, that “supreme” book of knowledge; for apparently only
modern English achievement is judged worthy of consideration.

Modern Russian literature suffers even more from neglect. Dostoievsky has
less than two columns, less space than Charles Reade, George Borrow, Mrs.
Gaskell, or Charles Kingsley. Gogol has a column and a quarter, far less
space than that given Felicia Hemans, James M. Barrie, of Mrs. Humphry
Ward. Gorky is allotted little over half a column, one-third of the space
given Kipling, and equal space with Ouida and Gilbert Parker. Tolstoi,
however, seems to have inflamed the British imagination. His sentimental
philosophy, his socialistic godliness, his capacity to “warm the heart”
and “improve the conduct” has resulted in a biography which runs to
nearly sixteen columns!

The most inept and inadequate biography in the whole Russian literature
department, however, is that of Turgueniev. Turgueniev, almost
universally conceded to be the greatest, and certainly the most artistic,
of the Russian writers, is accorded little over a column, less space than
is devoted to the biography of Thomas Love Peacock, Kipling, or Thomas
Hardy; and only a half or a third of the space given to a dozen other
inferior English writers. And in this brief biography we encounter the
following valuation: “Undoubtedly Turgueniev may be considered one of the
great novelists, worthy to be ranked with Thackeray, Dickens and George
Eliot; with the genius of the last of these he has many affinities.” It
will amuse, rather than amaze, the students of Slavonic literature to
learn that Turgueniev was the George Eliot of Russia.

But those thousands of people who have bought the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_, believing it to be an adequate literary reference work,
should perhaps be thankful that Turgueniev is mentioned at all, for
many other important modern Russians are without biographies. For
instance, there is no biographical mention of Andreiev, Garshin, Kuprin,
Tchernyshevsky, Grigorovich, Artzybasheff, Korolenko, Veressayeff,
Nekrasoff, or Tchekhoff. And yet the work of nearly all these Russian
writers had actually appeared in English translation before the Eleventh
Edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ went to press!

Italian fiction also suffers from neglect at the hands of the
_Britannica’s_ critics. Giulio Barrili receives only thirteen lines;
Farina, only nine lines; and Giovanni Verga, only twelve. Fogazzaro
draws twenty-six lines; and in the biography we learn that his “deeply
religious spirit” animates his literary productions, and that he
contributed to modern Italian literature “wholesome elements of which it
would otherwise be nearly destitute.” He also was “Wordsworthian” in his
simplicity and pathos. Amicis and Serao draw twenty-nine lines and half
a column respectively; but there are no biographies of Emilio de Marchi,
the prominent historical novelist; Enrico Butti, one of the foremost
representatives of the psychological novel in modern Italy; and Grazia
Deledda.

The neglect of modern German writers in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_
is more glaring than that of any other European nation, not excluding
Russia. So little information can one get from this encyclopædia
concerning the really important German authors that it would hardly repay
one to go to the _Britannica_. Eckstein—five of whose novels were issued
in English before 1890—is denied a biography. So is Meinhold; so is Luise
Mühlbach; so is Wachenroder;—all well known in England long before the
_Britannica_ went to press. Even Gabriele Reuter, whose far-reaching
success came as long ago as 1895, is without a biography. And—what
is less excusable—Max Kretzer, the first of Germany’s naturalistic
novelists, has no biographical mention in this great English encyclopædia!

But the omission of even these important names do not represent the
_Britannica’s_ greatest injustice to Germany’s literature; for one
will seek in vain for biographies of Wilhelm von Polenz and Ompteda,
two of the foremost German novelists, whose work marked a distinct
step in the development of their nation’s letters. Furthermore, Clara
Viebig, Gustav Frenssen, and Thomas Mann, who are among the truly great
figures in modern imaginative literature, are without biographies. These
writers have carried the German novel to extraordinary heights. Mann’s
_Buddenbrooks_ (1901) represents the culmination of the naturalistic
novel in Germany; and Viebig and Frenssen are of scarcely less
importance. There are few modern English novelists as deserving as these
three Germans; and yet numerous comparatively insignificant English
writers are given long critical biographies in the _Britannica_ while
Viebig, Frenssen and Mann receive no biographies whatever! Such unjust
discrimination against non-British authors would hardly be compatible
with even the narrowest scholarship.

And there are other important and eminent German novelists who are far
more deserving of space in an international encyclopædia than many of
the Englishmen who receive biographies in the _Britannica_—for instance,
Heinz Tovote, Hermann Hesse, Ricarda Huch, Helene Böhlau, and Eduard von
Keyserling—not one of whom is given biographical consideration!

When we come to the American literary division of the _Britannica_,
however, prejudice and neglect reach their highest point. Never have
I seen a better example of the contemptuous attitude of England
toward American literature than in the Encyclopædia’s treatment
of the novelists of the United States. William Dean Howells, in a
three-quarters-of-a-column biography, gets scant praise and is criticised
with not a little condescension. F. Marion Crawford, in an even shorter
biography, receives only lukewarm and apologetic praise. Frank Norris is
accorded only twenty lines, less space than is given the English hack, G.
A. Henty! _McTeague_ is “a story of the San Francisco slums”; and _The
Octopus_ and _The Pit_ are “powerful stories.” This is the extent of
the criticism. Stephen Crane is given twelve lines; Bret Harte, half a
column with little criticism; Charles Brockden Brown and Lafcadio Hearn,
two-thirds of a column each; H. C. Bunner, twenty-one lines; and Thomas
Nelson Page less than half a column.

What there is in Mark Twain’s biography is written by Brander Matthews
and is fair as far as it goes. The one recent American novelist who is
given adequate praise is Henry James; and this may be accounted for by
the fact of James’s adoption of England as his home. The only other
adequate biography of an American author is that of Nathaniel Hawthorne.
But the few biographies of other United States writers who are included
in the Encyclopædia are very brief and insufficient.

In the omissions of American writers, British prejudice has overstepped
all bounds of common justice. In the following list of names _only one_
(Churchill’s) _is even mentioned in the entire Encyclopædia_: Edith
Wharton, David Graham Phillips, Gertrude Atherton, Winston Churchill,
Owen Wister, Ambrose Bierce, Theodore Dreiser, Margaret Deland, Jack
London, Robert Grant, Ellen Glasgow, Booth Tarkington, Alice Brown and
Robert Herrick. And yet there is abundant space in the _Britannica_,
not only for critical mention, but for _detailed biographies_, of such
English writers as Hall Caine, Rider Haggard, Maurice Hewlett, Stanley
Weyman, Flora Annie Steel, Edna Lyall, Elizabeth Charles, Annie Keary,
Eliza Linton, Mrs. Henry Wood, Pett Ridge, W. C. Russell, and still
others of less consequence than many of the American authors omitted.

If the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ was a work whose sale was confined to
England, there could be little complaint of the neglect of the writers
of other nationalities. But unjust pandering to British prejudice and
a narrow contempt for American culture scarcely become an encyclopædia
whose chief profits are derived from the United States. So inadequate is
the treatment of American fiction that almost any modern text-book on our
literature is of more value; for, as I have shown, all manner of inferior
and little-known English authors are given eulogistic biographies, while
many of the foremost American authors receive no mention whatever.

As a reference book on modern fiction, the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ is
hopelessly inadequate and behind the times, filled with long eulogies of
_bourgeois_ English authors, lacking all sense of proportion, containing
many glaring omissions, and compiled and written in a spirit of insular
prejudice. And this is the kind of culture that America is exhorted, not
merely to accept, but to pay a large price for.



III

THE DRAMA


Particular importance attaches to the manner in which the modern drama
is treated in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, for to-day there exists a
deep and intimate interest in this branch of literature—an interest which
is greater and more far-reaching than during any other period of modern
times. Especially is this true in the United States. During the past
fifteen years study in the history, art and technique of the stage has
spread into almost every quarter of the country. The printed play has
come back into favor; and there is scarcely a publisher of any note on
whose lists do not appear many works of dramatic literature. Dramatic and
stage societies have been formed everywhere, and there is an increasing
demand for productions of the better-class plays. Perhaps no other one
branch of letters holds so conspicuous a place in our culture.

The drama itself during the last quarter of a century has taken enormous
strides. After a period of stagnant mediocrity, a new vitality has
been fused into this art. In Germany, France, England, and Russia many
significant dramatists have sprung into existence. The literature of the
stage has taken a new lease on life, and in its ranks are numbered many
of the finest creative minds of our day. Furthermore, a school of capable
and serious critics has developed to meet the demands of the new work;
and already there is a large and increasing library of books dealing with
the subject from almost every angle.

Therefore, because of this renaissance and the widespread interest
attaching to it, we should expect to find in the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_—that “supreme book of knowledge,” that “complete library”
of information—a full and comprehensive treatment of the modern drama.
The claims made in the advertising of the _Britannica_ would lead one
immediately to assume that so important and universally absorbing a
subject would be set forth adequately. The drama has played, and will
continue to play, a large part in our modern intellectual life; and,
in an educational work of the alleged scope and completeness of this
encyclopædia, it should be accorded careful and liberal consideration.

But in this department, as in others equally important, the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ fails inexcusably. I have carefully inspected its dramatic
information, and its inadequacy left me with a feeling which fell
little short of amazement. Not only is the modern drama given scant
consideration, but those comparatively few articles which deal with it
are so inept and desultory that no correct idea of the development of
modern dramatic literature can be obtained. As in the Encyclopædia’s
other departments of modern æsthetic culture, the work of Great Britain
is accorded an abnormally large amount of space, while the work of
other nations is—if mentioned at all—dismissed with comparatively few
words. The British drama, like the British novel, is exaggerated, both
through implication and direct statement, out of all proportion to its
inherent significance. Many of the truly great and important dramatists
of foreign countries are omitted entirely in order to make way for minor
and inconsequent Englishmen; and the few towering figures from abroad who
are given space draw only a few lines of biographical mention, whereas
second-rate British writers are accorded long and minutely specific
articles.

Furthermore, the Encyclopædia reveals the fact that in a great many
instances it has not been brought up to date. As a result, even when
an alien dramatist has found his way into the exclusive British circle
whose activities dominate the æsthetic departments of the _Britannica_,
one does not have a complete record of his work. This failure to revise
adequately old material and to make the information as recent as the
physical exigencies of book-making would permit, results no doubt in the
fact that even the more recent and important English dramatists have
suffered the fate of omission along with their less favored confrères
from other countries. Consequently, the dramatic material is not only
biased but is inadequate from the British standpoint as well.

As a reference book on the modern drama, either for students or the
casual reader, the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ is practically worthless.
Its information is old and prejudiced, besides being flagrantly
incomplete. I could name a dozen books on the modern drama which do not
pretend to possess the comprehensiveness and authenticity claimed by the
_Britannica_, and yet are far more adequate, both in extent and modernity
of subject-matter, and of vastly superior educational value. The limited
information which has actually found its way into this encyclopædia is
marked by incompetency, prejudice, and carelessness; and its large number
of indefensible omissions renders it almost useless as a reference work
on modern dramatic literature.

In the general article on the _Drama_ we have a key to the entire
treatment of the subject throughout the Encyclopædia’s twenty-seven
volumes. The English drama is given forty-one columns. The French drama
is given fifteen columns; the German drama, nine; the Scandinavian drama
one; and the Russian drama, one-third of a column! The American drama
is not even given a separate division but is included under the English
drama, and occupies less than one column! The Irish drama also is without
a separate division, and receives only twelve lines of exposition! In the
division on the Scandinavian drama, Strindberg’s name is not mentioned;
and the reader is supplied with the antiquated, early-Victorian
information that Ibsen’s _Ghosts_ is “repellent.” In the brief passage
on the Russian drama almost no idea is given of its subject; in fact, no
dramatist born later than 1808 is mentioned! When we consider the wealth
of the modern Russian drama and its influence on the theater of other
nations, even of England, we can only marvel at such utter inadequacy and
neglect.

In the sub-headings of “recent” drama under _Drama_, “Recent English
Drama” is given over twelve columns, while “Recent French Drama” is given
but a little over three. There is no sub-division for recent German
drama, but mention is made of it in a short paragraph under “English
Drama” with the heading: “Influences of Foreign Drama!”

Regard this distribution of space for a moment. The obvious implication
is that the more modern English drama is four times as important as the
French; and yet for years the entire inspiration of the English stage
came from France, and certain English “dramatists” made their reputations
by adapting French plays. And what of the more modern German drama? It
is of importance, evidently, only as it had an influence on the English
drama. Could self-complacent insularity go further? Even in its capacity
as a mere contribution to British genius, the recent German drama, it
seems, is of little moment; and Sudermann counts for naught. In the
entire article on _Drama_ his name is not so much as mentioned! Such is
the transcendent and superlative culture of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_!

Turning to the biographies, we find that British dramatists, when
mentioned at all, are treated with cordial liberality. T. W. Robertson
is given nearly three-fourths of a column with the comment that “his
work is notable for its masterly stage-craft, wholesome and generous
humor, bright and unstrained dialogue, and high dramatic sense of human
character in its theatrical aspects.” H. J. Byron is given over half a
column. W. S. Gilbert draws no less than a column and three-fourths. G.
R. Sims gets twenty-two lines. Sydney Grundy is accorded half a column.
James M. Barrie is given a column and a half, and George Bernard Shaw an
equal amount of space. Pinero is given two-thirds of a column; and Henry
Arthur Jones half a column. Jones, however, might have had more space
had the Encyclopædia’s editor gone to the simple trouble of extending
that playwright’s biography beyond 1904; but on this date it ends,
with the result that there appears no mention of _The Heroic Stubbs_,
_The Hypocrites_, _The Evangelist_, _Dolly Reforms Himself_, or _The
Knife_—all of which were produced before this supreme, up-to-date and
informative encyclopædia went to press.

Oscar Wilde, a man who revolutionized the English drama and who was
unquestionably one of the important figures in modern English letters, is
given a little over a column, less space than Shaw, Barrie, or Gilbert.
In much of his writing there was, we learn, “an undertone of rather nasty
suggestion”; and after leaving prison “he was necessarily an outcast from
decent circles.” Also, “it is still impossible to take a purely objective
view of Oscar Wilde’s work,”—that is to say, literary judgment cannot be
passed without recourse to morality!

Here is an actual confession _by the editor himself_ (for he contributed
the article on Wilde) of the accusation I have made against the
_Britannica_. A great artist, according to this encyclopædia’s criterion,
is a respectable artist, one who preaches and practises an inoffensive
suburbanism. But when the day comes—if it ever does—when the editor of
the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, along with other less prudish and less
delicate critics, can regard Wilde’s work apart from personal prejudice,
perhaps Wilde will be given the consideration he deserves—a consideration
far greater, we hope, than that accorded Barrie and Gilbert.

Greater inadequacy than that revealed in Wilde’s biography is to be found
in the fact that Synge has no biography whatever in the _Britannica_!
Nor has Hankin. Nor Granville Barker. Nor Lady Gregory. Nor Galsworthy.
The biographical omission of such important names as these can hardly
be due to the editor’s opinion that they are not deserving of mention,
for lesser English dramatic names of the preceding generation are
given liberal space. The fact that these writers do not appear can be
attributed only to the fact that the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ has not
been properly brought up to date—a fact substantiated by an abundance
of evidence throughout the entire work. Of what possible value to one
interested in the modern drama is a reference library which contains no
biographical mention of such significant figures as these?

The French drama suffers even more from incompleteness and scantiness
of material. Becque draws just eleven lines, exactly half the space
given to the British playwright whose reputation largely depends on that
piece of sentimental claptrap, _Lights o’ London_. Hervieu draws half
a column of biography, in which his two important dramas, _Modestie_
and _Connais-Toi_ (both out before the _Britannica_ went to press), are
not mentioned. Curel is given sixteen lines; Lavedan, fourteen lines,
in which not all of even his best work is noted; Maurice Donnay, twenty
lines, with no mention of _La Patronne_ (1908); Lemaître, a third of a
column; Rostand, half a column, less space than is accorded the cheap,
slap-stick humorist from Manchester, H. J. Byron; Capus, a third of
a column; Porto-Riche, thirteen lines; and Brieux twenty-six lines.
In Brieux’s very brief biography there is no record of _La Française_
(1807), _Simone_ (1908), or _Suzette_ (1909). Henri Bernstein does not
have even a biographical mention.

Maeterlinck’s biography runs only to a column and a third, and the last
work of his to be mentioned is dated 1903, since which time the article
has apparently not been revised! Therefore, if you depend for information
on this biography in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, you will find no
record of _Sœur Béatrice_, _Ariane et Barbe-Bleu_, _L’Oiseau Bleu_, or
_Maria Magdaléne_.

The modern Italian drama also receives very brief and inadequate
treatment. Of the modern Italian dramatists only two of importance have
biographies—Pietro Cossa and Paolo Ferrari. Cossa is given twenty-four
lines, and Ferrari only seven lines! The two eminent comedy writers,
Gherardi del Testa and Ferdinando Martini, have no biographies. Nor has
either Giuseppe Giacosa or Gerolamo Rovetta, the leaders of the new
school, any biographical mention. And in d’Annunzio’s biography only
seventeen lines are devoted to his dramas. What sort of an idea of the
modern Italian drama can one get from an encyclopædia which contains such
indefensible omissions and such scant accounts of prominent writers? And
why should the writer who is as commonly known by the name of Stecchetti
as Samuel Clemens is by the name of Mark Twain be listed under “Guerrini”
without even a cross reference under the only name by which the majority
of readers know him? Joseph Conrad might almost as well be listed under
“Korzeniowski.” There are few enough non-British writers included in the
_Britannica_ without deliberately or ignorantly hiding those who have
been lucky enough to be admitted.

Crossing over into Germany and Austria one may look in vain for any
indication of the wealth of dramatic material and the great number of
important dramatic figures which have come from these two countries.
Of all the recent German and Austrian dramatists of note, _only two_
are so much as given biographical mention, and these two—Sudermann
and Hauptmann—are treated with a brevity and inadequacy which, to my
knowledge, are without a parallel in any modern reference work on the
subject. Hauptmann and Sudermann receive just twenty-five lines each,
less space than is given to Sydney Grundy, Pinero, Henry Arthur Jones, T.
W. Robertson, H. J. Byron; and less than a third of the space given to
Shaw and W. S. Gilbert! Even Sims is given nearly as much space!

In these comparisons alone is discernible a chauvinism of almost
incredible narrowness. But the biographies themselves emphasize
this patriotic prejudice even more than does the brevity of space.
In Sudermann’s biography, which apparently ends in 1905, no mention
whatever is made of such important works as _Das Blumenboot_, _Rosen_,
_Strandkinder_, and _Das Hohe Lied_ (_The Song of Songs_), all of which
appeared before the _Britannica_ was printed.

And what of Hauptmann, perhaps the greatest and most important figure in
dramatic literature of this and the last generation? After a brief record
of the facts in Hauptmann’s life we read: “Of Hauptmann’s subsequent work
mention may be made of”—and then the names of a few of his plays are set
down. In the phrase, “mention may be made of,” is summed up the critic’s
narrow viewpoint. And in that list it was thought unnecessary to mention
_Schluck und Jau_, _Michael Kramer_, _Der Arme Heinrich_, _Elga_, _Die
Jungfern vom Bischofsberg_, _Kaiser Karls Geisel_, and _Griselda_! Since
all of these appeared in ample time to be included, it would, I believe,
have occurred to an unprejudiced critic that mention _might_ have been
made of them. In fact, all the circumstantial evidence points to the
supposition that had Hauptmann been an Englishman, not only would they
have been mentioned, but they would have been praised as well. As it
is, there is no criticism of Hauptmann’s work and no indication of his
greatness, despite the fact that he is almost universally conceded to be
a more important figure than any of the modern English playwrights who
are given greater space and favorably criticised.

With such insufficient and glaringly prejudiced treatment of giants
like Sudermann and Hauptmann, it is not at all surprising that not one
other figure in German and Austrian recent dramatic literature should
have a biography. For instance, there is no biography of Schnitzler,
Arno Holz, Max Halbe, Ludwig Fulda, O. E. Hartleben, Max Dreyer, Ernst
Hardt, Hirschfeld, Ernst Rosmer, Karl Schönherr, Hermann Bahr, Thoma,
Beer-Hoffmann, Johannes Schlaf, or Wedekind! Although every one of these
names should be included in some informative manner in an encyclopædia as
large as the _Britannica_, and one which makes so lavish a claim for its
educational completeness, the omission of several of them may be excused
on the grounds that, in the haste of the Encyclopædia’s editors to
commercialize their cultural wares, they did not have sufficient time to
take cognizance of the more recent of these dramatists. Since the editors
have overlooked men like Galsworthy from their own country, we can at
least acquit them of the charge of snobbish patriotism in several of the
present instances of wanton oversight.

In the cases of Schnitzler, Hartleben and Wedekind, however, no excuse
can be offered. The work of these men, though recent, had gained for
itself so important a place in the modern world before the _Britannica_
went to press, that to ignore them biographically was an act of either
wanton carelessness or extreme ignorance. The former would appear to
furnish the explanation, for under _Drama_ there is evidence that the
editors knew of Schnitzler’s and Wedekind’s existence. But, since the
_Überbrettl_ movement is given only seven lines, it would, under the
circumstances, hardly be worth one’s while to consult the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ for information on the modern drama in Germany and Austria.

Even so, one would learn more of the drama in those countries than one
could possibly learn of the drama of the United States. To be sure, no
great significance attaches to our stage literature, but since this
encyclopædia is being foisted upon us and we are asked to buy it in
preference to all others, it would have been well within the province of
its editors to give the hundred of thousands of American readers a little
enlightenment concerning their own drama.

The English, of course, have no interest in our institutions—save only
our banks—and consistently refuse to attribute either competency or
importance to our writers. They would prefer that we accept _their_
provincial and mediocre culture and ignore entirely our own æsthetic
struggles toward an individual expression. But all Americans do not
find intellectual contentment in this paternal and protecting British
attitude; and those who are interested in our native drama and who have
paid money for the _Britannica_ on the strength of its exorbitant and
unsustainable claims, have just cause for complaint in the scanty and
contemptuous way in which American letters are treated.

As I have already noted, the American drama is embodied in the article
on the _English Drama_, and is given less space than a column. Under
_American Literature_ there is nothing concerning the American stage and
its writers; nor is there a single biography in the entire Encyclopædia
of an American dramatist! James A. Herne receives eight lines—a note
so meagre that for purposes of reference it might almost as well have
been omitted entirely. And Augustin Daly, the most conspicuous figure in
our theatrical history, is dismissed with twenty lines, about half the
space given H. J. Byron! If you desire any information concerning the
development of the American theater, or wish to know any details about
David Belasco, Bronson Howard, Charles Hoyt, Steele MacKaye, Augustus
Thomas, Clyde Fitch, or Charles Klein, you will have to go to a source
other than the _Encyclopædia Britannica_.

By way of explaining this neglect of all American culture I will quote
from a recent advertisement of the _Britannica_. “We Americans,” it
says, in a most intimate and condescending manner, “have had a deep sense
of self-sufficiency. We haven’t had time or inclination to know how the
rest of the world lived. But now we _must_ know.” And let it be said
for the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ that it has done all in its power to
discourage us in this self-sufficiency.



IV

POETRY


In the field of poetry the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ comes nearer being
a competent reference library than in the field of painting, fiction,
or drama. This fact, however, is not due to a spirit of fairness on the
part of the Encyclopædia’s editors so much as to the actual superiority
of English poetry. In this field England has led the world. It is the
one branch of culture in which modern England stands highest. France
surpasses her in painting and in fiction, and Germany in music and the
drama. But Great Britain is without a rival in poetry. Therefore, despite
the fact that the Encyclopædia is just as biased in dealing with this
subject as it is in dealing with other cultural subjects, England’s
pre-eminence tends to reduce in this instance that insular prejudice
which distorts the _Britannica’s_ treatment of arts and letters.

But even granting this superiority, the Encyclopædia is neglectful of
the poets of other nations; and while it comes nearer the truth in
setting forth the glories of English prosody, it fails here as elsewhere
in being an international reference book of any marked value. There is
considerable and unnecessary exaggeration of the merits of British poets,
even of second- and third-rate British poets. Evangelical criticism
predominates, and respectability is the measure of merit. Furthermore,
the true value of poetry in France, Germany, Italy, Sweden and the
United States is minimized, and many writers of these countries who
unquestionably should have a place in an encyclopædia as large as the
_Britannica_, are omitted. Especially is this true in the case of the
United States, which stands second only to Great Britain in the quantity
and quality of its modern poetry.

Let us first review briefly the complete and eulogistic manner in which
English poets are dealt with. Then let us compare, while making all
allowances for alien inferiority, this treatment of British poetry with
the Encyclopædia’s treatment of the poetry of other nations. To begin
with, I find but very few British poets of even minor importance who are
not given a biography more than equal to their deserts. Coventry Patmore
receives a biography of a column and a half. Sydney Dobell’s runs to
nearly a column. Wilfred Scawen Blunt is accorded half a column; John
Davidson, over a column of high praise; Henley, more than an entire
page; Stephen Phillips, three-fourths of a column; Henry Clarence
Kendall, eighteen lines; Roden Noel, twenty-eight lines; Alexander
Smith, twenty-five lines; Lawrence Binyon, nineteen lines; Laurence
Housman, twenty-three lines; Ebenezer Jones, twenty-four lines; Richard
Le Gallienne, twenty lines; Henry Newbolt, fifteen lines; and Arthur
William Edgar O’Shaughnessy, twenty-nine lines. These names, together
with the amount of space devoted to them, will give an indication of the
thoroughness and liberality accorded British poets.

But these by no means complete the list. Robert Bridges receives half
a column, in which we learn that “his work has had great influence in
a select circle, by its restraint, purity, precision, and delicacy yet
strength of expression.” And in his higher flights “he is always noble
and sometimes sublime.... Spirituality informs his inspiration.” Here
we have an excellent example of the Encyclopædia’s combination of the
uplift and hyperbole. More of the same moral encomium is to be found in
the biography of Christina Rossetti, which is a column in length. Her
“sanctity” and “religious faith” are highly praised; and the article
ends with the words: “All that we really need to know about her, save
that she was a great saint, is that she was a great poet.” Ah, yes!
Saintliness—that cardinal requisite in British æsthetics.

An example of how the _Britannica’s_ provincial puritanism of judgment
works against a poet is to be found in the nearly-two-page biography of
Swinburne, wherein we read that “it is impossible to acquit his poetry
of the charge of animalism which wars against the higher issues of the
spirit.” No, Swinburne was not a pious uplifter; he did not use his art
as a medium for evangelical exhortation. Consequently his work does not
comply with the _Britannica’s_ parochial standard. And although Swinburne
was contemporary with Francis Thompson, it is said in the latter’s
two-thirds-of-a-column biography that “for glory of inspiration and
natural magnificence of utterance he is unique among the poets of his
time.” Watts-Dunton also, in his three-fourths-of-a-column biography,
is praised lavishly and set down as a “unique figure in the world of
letters.”

William Watson receives over a column of biography, and is eulogized
for his classic traditions in an age of prosodic lawlessness. The
sentimental and inoffensive Austin Dobson apparently is a high favorite
with the editors of the Encyclopædia, for he is given a column and
three-fourths—more space than is given John Davidson, Francis Thompson,
William Watson, Watts-Dunton, or Oscar Wilde—an allowance out of all
proportion to his importance.

In closing this brief record of the _Encyclopædia Britannica’s_ prodigal
generosity to British poets, it might be well to mention that Thomas
Chatterton receives a biography of five and a half columns—a space
considerably longer than that given to Heine. Since Thomas Chatterton
died at the age of eighteen and Heinrich Heine did not die until he was
fifty-nine, I leave it to statisticians to figure out how much more space
than Heine Chatterton would have received had he lived to the age of the
German poet.

On turning to the French poets and bearing in mind the long biographies
accorded British poets, one cannot help feeling amazed at the scant
treatment which the former receive. Baudelaire, for instance, is given
less space than Christina Rossetti, William Watson, Henley, Coventry
Patmore, John Davidson, or Austin Dobson. Catulle Mendès receives
considerably less space than Stephen Phillips. Verlaine is given equal
space with Watts-Dunton, and less than half the space given to Austin
Dobson! Stéphane Mallarmé receives only half the space given to John
Davidson, Christina Rossetti, or William Watson. Jean Moréas receives
only half the space given to Sydney Dobell or Christina Rossetti.
Viélé-Griffin draws a shorter biography than Kendall, the Australian
poet; and Régnier and Bouchor are dismissed in fewer words than is
the Scotch poet, Alexander Smith. Furthermore, these biographies are
rarely critical, being in the majority of instances a cursory record of
incomplete data.

Here attention should be called to the fact that only in the cases of
the very inconsequent British poets is criticism omitted: if the poet
is even fairly well known there is a discussion of his work and an
indication of the place he is supposed to hold in his particular field.
But with foreign writers—even the very prominent ones—little or nothing
concerning them is vouchsafed save historical facts, and these, as a
general rule, fall far short of completeness. The impression given is
that obscure Englishmen are more important than eminent Frenchmen,
Germans, or Americans. Evidently the editors are of the opinion that if
one is cognizant of British culture one can easily dispense with all
other culture as inferior and unnecessary. Otherwise how, except on the
ground of deliberate falsification, can one explain the liberal treatment
accorded English poets as compared with the meagre treatment given French
poets?

Since the important French poets mentioned receive such niggardly and
grudging treatment, it is not to be wondered at that many other lesser
poets—yet poets who are of sufficient importance to be included in
an encyclopædia—should receive no biographical mention. If you wish
information concerning Adolphe Retté, René de Ghil, Stuart Merrill,
Emmanuel Signoret, Jehan Rictus, Albert Samain, Paul Fort, who is
the leading balladist of young France, Hérold, Quillard, or Francis
Jammes, you will have to go to a source even more “supreme” than the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_. These poets were famous in 1900, and even in
America there had appeared at that time critical considerations of their
work. Again, one ought to find, in so “complete” a “library” as the
_Britannica_, information concerning the principal poets of the Belgian
Renaissance. But of the eight leading modern poets of Belgium only three
have biographies—Lemonnier, Maeterlinck, and Verhaeren. There are no
biographies of Eekhoud, Rodenbach, Elskamp, Severin and Cammaerts.

Turning to Italy we find even grosser injustice and an even more woeful
inadequacy in the treatment accorded her modern poets. To be sure, there
are biographies of Carducci, Ferrari, Marradi, Mazzoni, and Arturo Graf.
But Alfredo Baccelli, Domenico Gnoli, Giovanni Pascoli, Mario Rapisardi,
Chiarini, Panzacchi and Annie Vivanti are omitted. There should be
biographies of these writers in an international encyclopædia one-fourth
the size of the _Britannica_. Baccelli and Rapisardi are perhaps the two
most important epic poets of modern Italy. Gnoli is one of the leaders of
the classical school. Chiarini is not only a leading poet but is one of
the first critics of Italy as well. Panzacchi, the romantic, is second
only to the very greatest Italian poets of modern times, and as far back
as 1898 British critics were praising him and regretting that he was not
better known in England. Annie Vivanti, born in London, is a poet known
and esteemed all over Italy. (It may be noted here that Vivanti wrote a
vehement denunciation and repudiation of England in _Ave Albion_.)

But these names represent only part of the injustice and neglect accorded
modern Italian poetry by the _Britannica_. There is not even so much
as a mention in the entire twenty-nine volumes of the names of Alinda
Bonacchi, the most widely known woman poet in Italy; Capuano, who,
besides being a notable poet, is also a novelist, dramatist and critic
of distinction; Funcini (Tanfucio Neri), a household word in Tuscany
and one held in high esteem all over Italy; “Countess Lara” (Eveline
Cattermole), whose _Versi_ gave her a foremost place among the poets of
her day; Pitteri, who was famous as long ago as 1890; and Nencioni, not
only a fine poet but one of Italy’s great critics. Nencioni has earned
the reputation of being the Sainte-Beuve of Italy, and it was he who
introduced Browning, Tennyson and Swinburne to his countrymen. Then there
are such poets as Fontana, Bicci and Arnaboldi, who should at least be
mentioned in connection with modern Italian literature, but whose names
do not appear in “this complete library of information.”

But France, Belgium, and Italy, nevertheless, have great cause for
feeling honored when comparison is made between the way the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ deals with their modern poetry and the way it deals with
modern German and Austrian poetry. Of all the important recent lyricists
of Germany and Austria _only one_ is given a biography, and that
biography is so brief and inadequate as to be practically worthless
for purposes of enlightenment. The one favored poet is Detlev von
Liliencron. Liliencron is perhaps the most commanding lyrical figure in
all recent German literature, and he receives just twenty-seven lines,
or about one-fifth of the space given to Austin Dobson! But there are no
biographies of Richard Dehmel, Carl Busse, Stefan George, J. H. Mackay,
Rainer Maria Rilke, Gustav Falke, Ernst von Wolzogen, Karl Henckell,
Dörmann, Otto Julius Bierbaum, and Hugo von Hofmannsthal.

There can be no excuse for many of these omissions. Several of these
names are of international eminence. Their works have not been confined
to Germany, but have appeared in English translation. They stand in the
foremost rank of modern literature, and both in England and America there
are critical books which accord them extensive consideration. Without
a knowledge of them no one—not even a Britisher—can lay claim to an
understanding of modern letters. Yet the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ denies
them space and still poses as an adequate reference work.

One may hope to find some adequate treatment of the German lyric to
recent years with its “remarkable variety of new tones and pregnant
ideas,” in the article on _German Literature_. But that hope will
straightway be blasted when one turns to the article in question. The
entire new renaissance in German poetry is dismissed in a brief paragraph
of thirty-one lines! It would have been better to omit it altogether,
for such a cursory and inadequate survey of a significant subject can
result only in disseminating a most unjust and distorted impression. And
the bibliography at the end of this article on modern German literature
reveals nothing so much as the lack of knowledge on the part of the
critic who compiled it. Not only is the _Britannica_ deficient in its
information, but it does not reveal the best sources from which this
omitted information might be gained.

An even more absurdly inadequate treatment is accorded the poets of
modern Sweden. Despite the fact that Swedish literature is little
known to Americans, the poetry of that country ranks very high—higher
(according to some eminent critics) than the poetry of France or Germany.
But the _Britannica_ makes no effort to disturb our ignorance; and so
the great lyric poetry of Sweden since 1870 is barely touched upon.
However, Mr. Edmund Gosse, a copious contributor to the Encyclopædia,
has let the cat out of the bag. In one of his books he has pronounced
Fröding, Levertin and Heidenstam “three very great lyrical artists,” and
has called Snoilsky a poet of “unquestioned force and fire.” Turning to
the _Britannica_ we find that Snoilsky is dismissed with half the space
given Sydney Dobell and a third of the space given Patmore. Levertin
receives only a third of a column; and Fröding is denied any biography
whatever. He is thrown in with a batch of minor writers under _Sweden_.
Heidenstam, the new Nobel prize-winner, a poet who, according to Charles
Wharton Stork, “stands head and shoulders above any now writing in
England,” receives only eight lines in the general notice! And Karlfeldt,
another important lyrist, who is the Secretary of the Swedish Academy,
is considered unworthy of even a word in the “supreme” _Encyclopædia
Britannica_.

It would seem that unfair and scant treatment of a country’s poetry could
go no further. But if you will seek for information concerning American
poetry you will find a deficiency which is even greater than that which
marks the treatment of modern Swedish poetry.

Here again it might be in place to call attention to the hyperbolical
claims on which the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ has been sold in America.
In the flamboyant and unsubstantiable advertising of this reference
work you will no doubt recall the claim: “It will tell you more about
everything than you can get from any other source.” And perhaps you will
also remember the statement: “The _Britannica_ is a complete _library_
of knowledge on every subject appealing to intelligent persons.” It may
be, of course, that the editors believe that the subject of American
literature does not, or at least should not, appeal to any but ignorant
persons, and that, in fact, only middle-class English culture can
possibly interest the intelligent. But unless such a belief can be proved
to be correct, the American buyers of this Encyclopædia have a grave and
legitimate complaint against the editors for the manner in which the
books were foisted upon them. The _Encyclopædia Britannica_, as I have
pointed out, is _not_ a complete library of knowledge on the subject
of literature; and in the following pages I shall show that its gross
inadequacy extends to many other very important fields of endeavor.
Moreover, its incompleteness is most glaringly obvious in the field of
American æsthetic effort—a field which, under the circumstances, should
be the last to be neglected.

On the subject of American poetry it is deficient almost to the extreme
of worthlessness. In the article, _American Literature_, written by
George E. Woodberry, we discover that truly British spirit and viewpoint
which regards nothing as worth while unless it is old or eminently
respectable and accepted. The result is that, in the paragraph on our
poetry, such men as Aldrich, Stedman, Richard Watson Gilder, Julia Ward
Howe, H. H. Brownell and Henry Van Dyke are mentioned; but very few
others. As a supreme surrender to modernity the names of Walt Whitman,
Eugene Field, James Whitcomb Riley and Joaquin Miller are included. The
great wealth of American poetry, which is second only to that of England,
is not even suggested.

Turning to the biography of Edgar Allan Poe, we find that this writer
receives only a column and a half, less space than is given Austin
Dobson, Coventry Patmore, or W. E. Henley! And the biography itself
is so inept that it is an affront to American taste and an insult to
American intelligence. One is immediately interested in learning what
critic the Encyclopædia’s editors chose to represent this American who
has long since become a world figure in literature. Turning to the index
we discover that one David Hannay is the authority—a gentleman who was
formerly the British Vice-Consul at Barcelona. Mr. Hannay (apparently
he holds no academic degree of any kind) lays claim to fame chiefly, it
seems, as the author of _Short History of the Royal Navy_; but in just
what way his research in naval matters qualifies him to write on Poe is
not indicated. This is not, however, the only intimation we had that
in the minds of the Encyclopædia’s editors there exists some esoteric
and recondite relationship between art and British sea-power. In the
_Britannica’s_ criticism of J. M. W. Turner’s paintings, that artist’s
work is said to be “like the British fleet among the navies of the
world.” In the present instance, however, we can only trust that the
other articles in this encyclopædia, by Mr. Hannay—to-wit: _Admiral Penn_
and _Pirate and Piracy_—are more competent than his critique on Poe.

Walt Whitman gets scarcely better treatment. His biography is no longer
than Poe’s and contains little criticism and no suggestion of his true
place in American letters. This is all the more astonishing when we
recall the high tribute paid Whitman by eminent English critics. Surely
the _Britannica’s_ editors are not ignorant of Whitman’s place in
modern letters or of the generous manner in which he had been received
abroad. Whatever one’s opinion of him, he was a towering figure in our
literature—a pioneer who had more influence on our later writers than any
other American. And yet his biography in this great British cultural work
is shorter than that of Mrs. Humphry Ward!

With such obviously inadequate and contemptuous treatment as that
accorded Poe and Whitman, it is not surprising that all other American
poets should be treated peremptorily or neglected entirely. There are
very short biographical notes on Stedman, Louise Chandler Moulton, Sill,
Gilder, Eugene Field, Sidney Lanier and Riley—but they are scant records
of facts and most insufficient when compared to the biographies of
second-rate poets of England.

But let us be grateful that the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ was generous
enough to record them at all; for one can look in vain through its
entire twenty-nine volumes, no matter under what heading, for even a
mention of Emily Dickinson, John Bannister Tabb, Florence Earle Coates,
Edwin Markham, Lizette Woodworth Reese, Clinton Scollard, Louise Imogen
Guiney, Richard Hovey, Madison Cawein, Edwin Arlington Robinson, George
Sylvester Viereck, Ridgeley Torrence, Arthur Upson, Santayana, and many
others who hold an important place in our literature. And the names of
William Vaughn Moody, Percy MacKaye and Bliss Carman are merely mentioned
casually, the first two under _Drama_ and the last under _Canadian
Literature_.

The palpable injustice in the complete omission of many of the above
American names is rendered all the more glaring by the fact that the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ pays high tribute to such minor British poets
and versifiers as W. H. Davies, Sturge Moore, Locker Lampson, C. M.
Doughty, Walter de la Mare, Alfred Noyes, Herbert Trench, Ernest Dowson,
Mrs. Meynell, A. E. Housman and Owen Seaman.

This is the culture disseminated by the _Encyclopædia Britannica_,
which “is a complete _library_ of knowledge on every subject appealing
to intelligent persons,” and which “will tell you more about everything
than you can get from any other source!” This is the “supreme book of
knowledge” which Americans are asked to buy in preference to all others.
What pettier insult could one nation offer to another?



V

BRITISH PAINTING


If one hopes to find in the Eleventh Edition of the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ an unprejudiced critical and biographical survey of the
world’s painters, he will be sorely disappointed. Not only is the
Encyclopædia not comprehensive and up-to-date, but the manner in which
British art and artists are constantly forced to the front rank is so
grossly biased that a false impression of æsthetic history and art
values is almost an inevitable result, unless one is already equipped
with a wide understanding of the subject. If one were to form an opinion
of art on the _Britannica’s_ articles, the opinion would be that
English painting leads the modern world in both amount and quality.
The Encyclopædia raises English academicians to the ranks of exalted
greatness, and at the same time tends to tear down the pedestals whereon
rest the truly towering geniuses of alien nationality.

So consistently does British _bourgeois_ prejudice and complacency
characterize the material on painting contained in this Encyclopædia,
that any attempt to get from it an æsthetic point of view which would be
judicious and universal, would fail utterly. Certain French, German, and
American artists of admitted importance are considered unworthy of space,
or, if indeed deserving of mention, are unworthy of the amount of space,
or the praise, which is conferred on a large number of lesser English
painters. Both by implication and direct statement the editors have
belittled the æsthetic endeavor of foreign nations, and have exaggerated,
to an almost unbelievable degree, the art of their own country. The
manner in which the subject of painting is dealt with reveals the
full-blown flower of British insularity, and apotheosizes the narrow,
aggressive culture of British middle-class respectability. In the world’s
art from 1700 on, comparatively little merit is recognized beyond the
English Channel.

The number of English painters whose biographies appear in the
_Britannica_ would, I believe, astonish even certain English art critics;
and the large amount of space devoted to them—even to inconsequent and
obscure academicians—when compared with the brief notices given to
greater painters of other nations, leaves the un-British searcher with a
feeling of bewilderment. But not only with the large number of English
painters mentioned or even with the obviously disproportionate amount of
space devoted to them does the Encyclopædia’s chauvinistic campaign for
England’s æsthetic supremacy cease. The criticisms which accompany these
biographies are as a rule generously favorable; and, in many cases, the
praise reaches a degree of extravagance which borders on the absurd.

Did this optimism of outlook, this hot desire to ferret out greatness
where only mediocrity exists, this ambition to drag the obscure and
inept into the glare of prominence, extend to all painters, regardless
of nationality, one might forgive the superlative eulogies heaped upon
British art, and attribute them to that mellow spirit of sentimental
tolerance which sees good in everything. But, alas! such impartiality
does not exist. It would seem that the moment the biographers of the
_Britannica_ put foot on foreign ground, their spirit of generosity
deserts them. And if space is any indication of importance, it must
be noted that English painters are, in the editors’ estimation, of
considerably more importance than painters from abroad.

Of William Etty, to whom three-fourths of a page is devoted, we are
told that “in feeling and skill as a colorist he has few equals.” The
implication here that Etty, as a colorist, has never been surpassed
scarcely needs refutation. It is unfortunate, however, that Mr. Etty
is not with us at present to read this exorbitant testimony to his
greatness, for it would astonish him, no doubt, as much as it would
those other few unnamed painters who are regarded as his equals in color
_sensibilité_. J. S. Cotman, we discover, was “a remarkable painter both
in oil and water-color.” This criticism is characteristic, for, even when
there are no specific qualities to praise in an English painter’s work,
we find this type of vague recommendation.

No points, though, it would seem, are overlooked. Regard the manner in
which J. D. Harding’s questionable gifts are recorded. “Harding,” you
will find, “was noted for facility, sureness of hand, nicety of touch,
and the various qualities which go to make up an elegant, highly-trained
and accomplished sketcher from nature, and composer of picturesque
landscape material; he was particularly skillful in the treatment of
foliage.” Turning from Mr. Harding, the “elegant” and “accomplished”
depicter of foliage, to Birket Foster, we find that his work “is
memorable for its delicacy and minute finish, and for its daintiness and
pleasantness of sentiment.” Dainty and pleasant sentiment is not without
weight with the art critics of this encyclopædia. In one form or another
it is mentioned very often in connection with British painters.

Landseer offers an excellent example of the middle-class attitude which
the _Britannica_ takes toward art. To judge from the page-and-a-half
biography of this indifferent portraitist of animals one would imagine
that Landseer was a great painter, for we are told that his _Fighting
Dogs Getting Wind_ is “perfectly drawn, solidly and minutely finished,
and carefully composed.” Of what possible educational value is an art
article which would thus criticise a Landseer picture?

An English painter who, were we to accept the Encyclopædia’s valuation,
combines the qualities of several great painters is Charles Holroyd.
“In all his work,” we learn, “Holroyd displays an impressive sincerity,
with a fine sense of composition, and of style, allied to independent
and modern thinking.” Truly a giant! It would be difficult to recall any
other painter in history “all” of whose work displayed a “fine sense
of composition.” Not even could this be said of Michelangelo. But when
it comes to composition, Arthur Melville apparently soars above his
fellows. Besides, “several striking portraits in oil,” he did a picture
called _The Return From the Crucifixion_, which, so we are told, is a
“powerful, colossal composition.” To have achieved only a “powerful”
composition should have been a sufficiently remarkable feat for a painter
of Mr. Melville’s standing; for only of a very few masters in the world’s
history can it be said that their compositions were both powerful and
colossal. El Greco, Giotto, Giorgione, Veronese, Titian, Michelangelo and
Rubens rarely soared to such heights.

But Melville, it appears, had a contemporary who, if anything, was
greater than he—to-wit: W. Q. Orchardson, to whose glories nearly a page
is devoted. “By the time he was twenty,” says his biographer, “Orchardson
had mastered the essentials of his art.” In short, at twenty he had
accomplished what few painters accomplished in a lifetime. A truly
staggering feat! We are not therefore surprised to learn that “as a
portrait painter Orchardson must be placed in the first class.” Does this
not imply that he ranked with Titian, Velazquez, Rubens and Rembrandt?
What sort of an idea of the relative values in art will the uninformed
person get from such loose and ill-considered rhetoric, especially
when the critic goes on to say that _Master Baby_ is “a masterpiece
of design, color and broad execution”? There is much more eulogy of a
similar careless variety, but enough has been quoted here to show that
the world must entirely revise its opinions of art if the _Encyclopædia
Britannica’s_ statements are to be accepted.

Even the pictures of Paul Wilson Steer are criticised favorably: “His
figure subjects and landscapes show great originality and technical
skill.” And John Pettie was “in his best days a colorist of a high
order and a brilliant executant.” George Reid, the Scottish artist,
is accorded over half a column with detailed criticism and praise.
Frederick Walker is given no less than an entire column which ends with a
paragraph of fulsome eulogy. Even E. A. Waterlow painted landscapes which
were “admirable” and “handled with grace and distinction”—more gaudy
generalizations. When the Encyclopædia’s critics can find no specific
point to praise in the work of their countrymen, grace, distinction,
elegance and sentiment are turned into æsthetic virtues.

Turning to Hogarth, we find no less than three and one-half pages devoted
to him, more space than is given to Rubens’s biography, and three times
the space accorded Veronese! It was once thought that Hogarth was only
an “ingenious humorist,” but “time has reversed that unjust sentence.”
We then read that Hogarth’s composition leaves “little or nothing to
be desired.” If such were the case, he would unquestionably rank with
Rubens, Michelangelo and Titian; for, if indeed his composition leaves
little or nothing to be desired, he is as great as, or even greater than,
the masters of all time. But even with this eulogy the Encyclopædia’s
critic does not rest content. As a humorist and a satirist upon canvas,
“he has never been equalled.” If we regard Hogarth as an “author” rather
than artist, “his place is with the great masters of literature—with the
Thackerays and Fieldings, the Cervantes and Molières.” (Note that of
these four “great masters” two are English.)

Mastery in one form or another, if the _Britannica_ is to be believed,
was common among English painters. The pictures of Richard Wilson are
“skilled and learned compositions ... the work of a painter who was
thoroughly master of his materials.” In this latter respect Mr. Wilson
perhaps stands alone among the painters of the world; and yet, through
some conspiracy of silence no doubt, the leading critics of other nations
rarely mention him when speaking of those artists who thoroughly mastered
their materials. In regard to Raeburn, the Encyclopædia is less fulsome,
despite the fact that over a page is allotted him. We are distinctly
given to understand that he had his faults. Velazquez, however,
constantly reminded Wilkie of Raeburn; yet, after all, Raeburn was not
quite so great as Velazquez. This is frankly admitted.

It was left to Reynolds to equal if not to surpass Velazquez as well as
Rubens and Rembrandt. In a two-page glorification of this English painter
we come upon the following panegyric: “There can be no question of
placing him by the side of the greatest Venetians or of the triumvirate
of the seventeenth century, Rubens, Rembrandt, Velazquez.” If by placing
him beside these giants is meant that he in any wise approached their
stature, there can be, and has been, outside of England, a very great
question of putting him in such company. In fact, his right to such a
place has been very definitely denied him. But the unprejudiced opinion
of the world matters not to the patriots who edited the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_. That “supreme” English reference work goes on to say that in
portraits, such as _Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse_, Reynolds “holds the
field.... No portrait painter has been more happy in his poses for single
figures.” Then, as if such enthusiasm were not enough, we are told that
“nature had singled out Sir Joshua to endow him with certain gifts in
which he has hardly an equal.”

Nature, it seems, in her singling out process, was particularly partial
to Englishmen, for among those other painters who just barely equalled
Reynolds’s transcendent genius was Gainsborough. Says the _Britannica_:
“Gainsborough and Reynolds rank side by side.... It is difficult to say
which stands the higher of the two.” Consequently hereafter we must
place Gainsborough, too, along with Michelangelo, Rubens, Rembrandt and
Velazquez! Such a complete revision of æsthetic judgment will, no doubt,
be difficult at first, but, by living with the _Encyclopædia Britannica_
and absorbing its British culture, we may in time be able to bracket
Michelangelo, Reynolds, Rubens, Gainsborough, Rembrandt, Hogarth and
Velazquez without the slightest hesitation.

It is difficult to conceive how, in an encyclopædia with lofty
educational pretences, extravagance of statement could attain so high a
point as that reached in the biographies of Reynolds and Gainsborough.
So obviously indefensible are these valuations that I would hesitate to
accuse the _Britannica’s_ editors of deliberate falsification—that is, of
purposely distorting æsthetic values for the benefit of English artists.
Their total lack of discretion indicates an honest, if blind, belief in
British æsthetic supremacy. But this fact does not lessen the danger of
such judgments to the American public. As a nation we are ignorant of
painting and therefore are apt to accept statements of this kind which
have the impact of seeming authority behind them.

The same insular and extravagant point of view is discoverable in the
article on Turner. To this painter nearly five pages are devoted—a space
out of all proportion to the biographies of the other painters of the
world. Titian has only three and one-half pages; Rubens has only a little
over three pages; and El Greco has less than two-thirds of a page! Of
course, it is not altogether fair to base a judgment on space alone; but
such startling discrepancies are the rule and not the exception.

In the case of Turner the discrepancy is not only of space, however.
In diction, as well, all relative values are thrown to the winds. In
the criticism of Turner we find English patriotism at its high-water
mark. We read that “the range of his powers was so vast that he covered
the whole field of nature and united in his own person the classical
and naturalistic schools.” Even this palpable overstatement could be
forgiven, since it has a basis of truth, if a little further we did
not discover that Turner’s _Crossing the Brook_ in the London National
Academy is “probably the most perfect landscape in the world.” In this
final and irrevocable judgment is manifest the supreme insular egotism
which characterizes nearly all the art articles in the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_. This criticism, to take merely one example, means that
_Crossing the Brook_ is more perfect than Rubens’s _Landscape with
Château de Stein_! But the Encyclopædia’s summary of Turner’s genius
surpasses in flamboyant chauvinism anything which I have yet seen
in print. It is said that, despite any exception we may take to his
pictures, “there will still remain a body of work which for extent,
variety, truth and artistic taste is like the British fleet among the
navies of the world.” Here patriotic fervor has entirely swallowed all
restraint.

Over a page is devoted to Constable, in which we are informed that his
“vivid tones and fresh color are grafted upon the formulæ of Claude
and Rubens.” This type of criticism is not rare. One frequently finds
second-rate English artists compared not unfavorably with the great
artists of other nations; and it would seem that the English painters add
a little touch of their own, the imputation being that they not seldom
improve upon their models. Thus Constable adds “vivid tones and fresh
colors” to Rubens’s formula. Another instance of this kind is to be found
in the case of Alfred Stevens, the British sculptor, not the Belgian
painter. (The latter, by the way, though more important and better-known,
receives less space than the Englishman.) The vigorous strength of his
groups “recalls the style of Michelangelo, but Stevens’s work throughout
is original and has a character of its own.” I do not deny that Stevens
imitated Michelangelo, but, where English artists are concerned, these
relationships are indicated in deceptive phraseology. In the case of
French artists, whose biographies are sometimes written by unbiased
critics, the truth is not hidden in dictional suavities. Imitation is not
made a virtue.

Let us now turn to Watts. Over two pages are accorded him, one page being
devoted largely to eulogy, a passage of which reads: “It was the rare
combination of supreme handicraft with a great imaginative intellect
which secured to Watts his undisputed place in the public estimation
of his day.” Furthermore, we hear of “the grandeur and dignity of his
style, the ease and purposefulness of his brushwork, the richness and
harmoniousness of his coloring.” But those “to whom his exceptional
artistic attainment is a sealed book have gathered courage or consolation
from the grave moral purpose and deep human sympathy of his teaching.”
Here we have a perfect example of the parochial moral uplift which
permeates the _Britannica’s_ art criticism. The great Presbyterian
complex is found constantly in the judgments of this encyclopædia.

So important a consideration to the _Britannica’s_ critico-moralists
is this puritan motif that the fact is actually set down that Millais
was devoted to his family! One wonders how much influence this domestic
devotion had on the critic who spends a page and a half to tell us
of Millais, for not only is this space far in excess of Millais’
importance, but the statement is made that he was “one of the greatest
painters of his time,” and that “he could paint what he saw with a force
which has seldom been excelled.” Unfortunately the few who excelled
him are not mentioned. Perhaps he stood second only to Turner, that
super-dreadnought. Surely he was not excelled by Renoir, or Courbet, or
Pissarro, or Monet, or Manet, or Cézanne; for these latter are given very
little space (the greatest of them having no biography whatever in the
Encyclopædia!); and there is no evidence to show that they are considered
of more than minor importance.

Perhaps it was Rossetti, a fellow Pre-Raphaelite, who excelled Millais
in painting what he saw. Rossetti’s _The Song of Solomon_, as regards
brilliance, finish and the splendor of its lighting, “occupies a great
place in the highest grade of modern art of all the world.” Even Holman
Hunt, one of the lesser Pre-Raphaelites, is given over a full page, and
is spoken of in glowing terms. “Perhaps no painter of the nineteenth
century,” we read, “produced so great an impression by a few pictures”
as did Hunt; and during the course of the eulogy the critic speaks of
Hunt’s “greatness.” Can it be that the naïf gentleman who wrote Hunt’s
biography has never heard of Courbet, or Manet, or of the Impressionists,
or Cézanne? After so sweeping and unreasoned a statement as the one
concerning the great impression made by Hunt’s pictures, such an extreme
conclusion is almost inevitable. Or is this critic’s patriotic vanity
such that he considers an impression made in England as representative
of the world? Even to intimate that the impression made by Hunt’s
pictures was comparable to that made by _L’Enterrement à Ornans_ or _Le
Déjeuner sur l’Herbe_, or that the Pre-Raphaelites possessed even half
the importance of Courbet and Manet, is to carry undeserved laudation to
preposterous lengths.

Here as elsewhere, superlatives are used in such a way in describing
unimportant English painters that no adequate adjectives are left for
the truly great men of other nationality. It would be difficult to find
a better example of undeserving eulogy as applied to an inconsequent
British painter than that furnished by Brangwyn, whose compositions,
we are astonished to learn, have “a nobly impressive and universal
character.” Such a statement might justly sum up the greatness of a
Michelangelo statue; but here it is attached to the works of a man who at
best is no more than a capable and clever illustrator.

The foregoing examples by no means include all the instances of how
English painters, as a result of the liberal space allotted them and the
lavish encomiums heaped upon them by the _Encyclopædia Britannica’s_
editors, are unduly expanded into great and important figures. A score
of other names could be mentioned. From beginning to end, English art is
emphasized and lauded until it is out of all proportion to the rest of
the world.

Turn to the article on _Painting_ and look at the sub-title, “Recent
Schools.” Under “British” you will find twelve columns, with inset
headings. Under “French” you will find only seven columns, without
insets. Practically all the advances made in modern art have come out
of France; and practically all important modern painters have been
Frenchmen. England has contributed little or nothing to modern painting.
And yet, recent British schools are given nearly twice the space that is
devoted to recent French schools! Again regard the article, _Sculpture_.
Even a greater and more astonishing disproportionment exists here. Modern
British sculpture is given no less than thirteen and a half columns,
while modern French sculpture, of vastly greater æsthetic importance, is
given only seven and a half columns!



VI

NON-BRITISH PAINTING


If the same kind of panegyrics which characterize the biographies of
the British painters in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ were used in
dealing with the painters of all nationalities, there could be made
no charge of either unconscious or deliberate injustice. But once we
leave Great Britain’s shores, prodigal laudation ceases. As if worn
out by the effort of proving that Englishmen are pre-eminent among the
world’s painters, the editors devote comparatively little space to those
non-British artists who, we have always believed and been taught, were
the truly significant men in painting. Therefore, if the _Britannica’s_
implications are to be believed, England alone, among all modern
countries, is the home of genius. And it would be difficult for one not
well informed to escape the impression that not only Turner, but English
painting in general, is “like the British fleet among the navies of the
world.”

A comparison, for instance, between English and French painters, as
they are presented in this encyclopædia, would leave the neophyte with
the conviction that France was considerably inferior in regard to
graphic ability, as inferior, in fact—if we may read the minds of the
_Britannica’s_ editors—as the French fleet is to the British fleet. In
its ignorant and un-English way the world for years has been laboring
under the superstition that the glories of modern painting had been
largely the property of France. But such a notion is now corrected.

For instance, we had always believed that Chardin was one of the
greatest of still-life painters. We had thought him to be of exceeding
importance, a man with tremendous influence, deserving of no little
consideration. But when we turn to his biography in the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ we are, to say the least, astonished at the extent of our
over-valuation. He is dismissed with six lines! And the only critical
comment concerning him is: “He became famous for his still-life pictures
and domestic interiors.” And yet Thomas Stothard, an English painter who
for twenty-five years was Chardin’s contemporary, is given over a column;
James Northcote, another English contemporary of Chardin’s, is given half
a column; and many other British painters, whose names are little known
outside of England, have long biographies and favorable criticisms.

Watteau, one of the greatest of French painters, has a biography of only
a page and a quarter; Largillière, half a column; Rigaud, less than half
a column; Lancret, a third of a column; and Boucher has only fifteen
lines—a mere note with no criticism. (Jonathan Boucher, an English
divine, whose name follows that of Boucher, is accorded three times the
space!) La Tour and Nattier have half a column each. Greuze, another one
of France’s great eighteenth-century painters, is given only a column and
a half with unfavorable comment. Greuze’s brilliant reputation seemed
to have been due, “not to his requirements as a painter” but to the
subjects of his pictures; and he is then adversely accused of possessing
that very quality which in an English painter, as we have seen, is a
mark of supreme glory—namely, “_bourgeois_ morality.” Half a column only
is required to comment on Horace Vernet and to tell us that his most
representative picture “begins and ends nowhere, and the composition
is all to pieces; but it has good qualities of faithful and exact
representation.”

Fragonard, another French painter whom we had always thought possessed
of at least a minor greatness, is accorded no more than a column,
less than half the space given to B. R. Haydon, the eighteenth-century
English historical painter, and only one-third of the space devoted
to David Wilkie, the Scotch painter. Fragonard’s “scenes of love and
voluptuousness,” comments that art critic of the London _Daily Mail_, who
has been chosen to represent this French painter in the Encyclopædia,
“are only made acceptable by the tender beauty of his color and the
virtuosity of his facile brushwork.” Alas! that Fragonard did not possess
the “grave moral purpose” of Watts! Had his work been less voluptuous he
might have been given more than a fourth of the space devoted to that
moral Englishman, for surely Fragonard was the greater painter.

Géricault, one of the very important innovators of French realism, is
given half a column, about an equal amount of space with such English
painters as W. E. Frost, T. S. Cooper, Thomas Creswick, Francis Danby
and David Scott; only about half the amount of space given to John
Gilbert, C. L. Eastlake, and William Mulready; and only one-third of the
space given to David Cox. One or two such disparities in space might be
overlooked, but when to almost any kind of an English painter is imputed
an importance equal to, if not greater than, truly significant painters
from France, bias, whether conscious or unconscious, has been established.

Again regard Poussin. This artist, the most representative painter of his
epoch and a man who marked a distinct step in the evolution of graphic
art, is given less than half a page, about equal to the space devoted to
W. P. Frith, J. W. Gordon, Samuel Cousins, John Crome, William Strang,
and Thornhill; and only half the space given to Holman Hunt, and only
one-third the space given to Millais! There is almost no criticism of
Poussin’s art; merely a statement of the type of work he did; and of
Géricault there is no criticism whatever. Herein lies another means by
which, through implication, a greater relative significance is conferred
on English art. Generally British painters—even minor ones—are criticised
favorably, from one standpoint or another; but only now and then is a
Frenchman given specific complimentary criticism. And often a Frenchman
is condemned for the very quality which is lauded in a British artist.

Of David it is written: “His style is severely academic, his color
lacking in richness and warmth, his execution hard and uninteresting in
its very perfection,” and more in the same derogatory strain. Although
this criticism may be strictly accurate, the same qualities in certain
English painters of far less importance than David are made the basis for
praise. The severely academic style in the case of Harding, for instance,
becomes an “elegant, highly-trained” characteristic. And perfection of
execution makes Birket Foster’s work “memorable for its delicacy and
minute finish,” and becomes, in Paul Wilson Steer’s pictures, “great
technical skill.”

Ingres, truly one of the giants of his day, is given little or no
criticism and his biography draws only a little over half the space which
is given to Watts (with his “grave, moral purpose”), and only a trifle
more space than is given Millais, the Pre-Raphaelite who was “devoted to
his family.” In Guerin’s short biography we read of his “strained and
pompous dignity.” Girodet’s biography contains very adverse criticism:
his style “harmonized ill” with his subjects, and his work was full of
“incongruity” even to the point sometimes of being “ludicrous.” Gros,
exasperated by criticism, “sought refuge in the grosser pleasures of
life.” Flandrin also is tagged with a moral criticism.

Coming down to the more modern painters we find even less consideration
given them by the _Britannica’s_ editors. Delacroix, who ushered in
a new age of painting and brought composition back to art after a
period of stagnation and quiescence, is nailed to France as follows:
“As a colorist and a romantic painter he now ranks among the greatest
of French artists.” Certainly not among the greatest English painters,
for Constable is given more space than Delacroix; and Turner, the other
precursor of the new era, is “like the British fleet among the navies of
the world.”

Courbet, the father of modern painting and the artist who revolutionized
æsthetics, is given half a column, equal space with those contemporaries
of his from across the Channel, Francis Grant, Thomas Creswick and George
Harvey. Perhaps this neglect of the great Frenchman is explained by
the following early-Victorian complaint: “Sometimes, it must be owned,
his realism is rather coarse and brutal.” And we learn that “he died
of a disease of the liver aggravated by intemperance.” Courbet, unable
to benefit by the pious and elegant _esthétique_ of the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_, was never deeply impressed by the artistic value of
“daintiness and pleasantness of sentiment,” and as a result, perhaps, he
is not held in as high esteem as is Birket Foster, who possessed those
delicate and pleasing qualities.

The palpable, insular injustice dealt Courbet in point of space finds
another victim in Daumier whose biography is almost as brief as that
of Courbet. Most of it, however, is devoted to Daumier’s caricature.
Although this type of work was but a phase of his development, the
article says that, despite his caricatures, “he found time for flight
in the higher sphere of painting.” Not only does this create a false
impression of Daumier’s tremendous importance to modern painting, but it
gives the erroneous idea that his principal _métier_ was caricature. The
entire criticism of his truly great work is summed up in the sentence:
“As a painter, Daumier, one of the pioneers of naturalism, was before his
time.” Likewise, the half-page biography of Manet is, from the standpoint
of space, inadequate, and from the critical standpoint, incompetent. To
say that he is “regarded as the most important master of Impressionism”
is a false statement. Manet, strictly speaking, was not an Impressionist
at all; and the high place that he holds in modern art is not even
touched upon.

Such biographies as the foregoing are sufficiently inept to disqualify
the Encyclopædia as a source for accurate æsthetic information; but when
Renoir, who is indeed recognized as the great master of Impressionism,
is dismissed with one-fifth of a page, the height of injustice has been
reached. Renoir, even in academic circles, is admittedly one of the great
painters of all time. Not only did he sum up the Impressionists, close
up an experimental cycle, and introduce compositional form into the
realistic painting of his day, but by his colossal vision and technical
mastery he placed himself in the very front rank of all modern painters,
if not of ancient painters as well. Yet he is accorded just twenty-seven
lines and dismissed with this remark: “Though he is perhaps the most
unequal of the great Impressionists, his finest works rank among the
masterpieces of the modern French school.” Critical incompetency could
scarcely go further. We can only excuse such inadequacy and ignorance
on the ground that the Encyclopædia’s English critic has seen none of
Renoir’s greatest work; and color is lent this theory when we note that
in the given list of his paintings no mention is made of his truly
masterful canvases.

Turning to the other lesser moderns in French painting but those who
surpass the contemporaneous British painters who are given liberal
biographies, we find them very decidedly neglected as to both space and
comment. Such painters as Cazin, Harpignies, Ziem, Cormon, Bésnard,
Cottet and Bonnot are dismissed with brief mention, whereas sometimes
twice and three times the attention is paid to English painters like
Alfred East, Harry Furniss (a caricaturist and illustrator), Francis
Lathrop, E. J. Poynter, and W. B. Richmond. Even Meissonier and Puvis de
Chavannes draw only three-fourths of a page. Pissarro and Monet, surely
important painters in the modern evolution, are given short shrift. A few
brief facts concerning Pissarro extend to twenty lines; and Monet gets
a quarter of a page without any criticism save that “he became a _plein
air_ painter.” Examples of this kind of incompetent and insufficient
comment could be multiplied.

The most astonishing omission, however, in the entire art division
of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ is that of Cézanne. Here is a
painter who, whether one appreciates his work or not, has admittedly
had more influence than any man of modern times. Not only in France
has his tremendous power been felt, but in practically every other
civilized country. Yet the name of this great Frenchman is not even
given biographical mention in the great English Encyclopædia with its
twenty-nine volumes, its 30,000 pages, its 500,000 references, and its
44,000,000 words. Deliberately to omit Cézanne’s biography, in view of
his importance and (in the opinion of many) his genuine greatness, is
an act of almost unbelievable narrow-mindedness. To omit his biography
unconsciously is an act of almost unbelievable ignorance. Especially is
this true when we find biographies of such British contemporaries of
Cézanne as Edward John Gregory, James Guthrie, Luke Fildes, H. W. B.
Davis, John Buxton Knight, George Reid, and J. W. Waterhouse. Nor can the
editors offer the excuse that Cézanne was not known when the Encyclopædia
was compiled. Not only was he known, but books and criticisms had
appeared on him in more than one language, and his greatness had been
recognized. True, he had not reached England; but is it not the duty of
the editor of an “international” encyclopædia to be aware of what is
going on outside of his own narrow province?

Any encyclopædia, no matter what the nationality, prejudices or tastes
of its editors, which omits Cézanne has forfeited its claim to universal
educational value. But when in addition there is no biographical mention
of such conspicuous French painters as Maurice Denis, Vollatton, Lucien
Simon, Vuillard, Louis Le Grand, Toulouse-Lautrec, Steinlen, Jean Paul
Laurens, Redon, René Ménard, Gauguin, and Carrière, although a score of
lesser painters of British birth are included, petty national prejudice,
whether through conscious intent or lack of information, has been carried
to an extreme; and the editors of such a biased work have something
to answer for to those readers who are not English, and who do not
therefore believe that British middle-class culture should be exaggerated
and glorified at the expense of the genuine intellectual culture of other
nations.

Modern German painting fares even worse than French painting in the
pages of the _Britannica_; and while it does not hold the high place
that French painting does, it is certainly deserving of far more
liberal treatment than that which is accorded it. The comparatively few
biographies of German artists are inadequate; but it is not in them
that we find the greatest neglect of German achievements in this branch
of æsthetics: it is in the long list of conspicuous painters who are
omitted entirely. The _Britannica’s_ meagre information on German art
is particularly regrettable from the standpoint of American readers;
for the subject is little known in this country, and as a nation we are
woefully ignorant of the wealth of nineteenth-century German painting.
The causes for this ignorance need not be gone into here. Suffice it to
say that the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, far from fulfilling its function
as a truly educational work, is calculated to perpetuate and cement
our lack of knowledge in this field. It would appear that England also
is unacquainted with the merits of German graphic expression; for the
lapses in the _Britannica_ would seem even too great to be accounted for
on the grounds of British chauvinism. And they are too obvious to have
been deliberate.

Among the important German painters of modern times who have failed to be
given biographies are Wilhelm Leibl, the greatest German painter since
Holbein; Charles Schuch, one of Germany’s foremost still-life artists;
Trübner, who ranks directly in line with Leibl; Karl Spitzweg, the
forerunner and classic exponent of German _genre_ painting as well as the
leading artist in that field; Heinrich von Zügel, one of the foremost
animal painters of modern times; and Ludwig Knaus who, though inferior,
is a painter of world-wide fame. Furthermore, there are no biographies
of Franz Krüger, Müller, Von Marées, Habermann, and Louis Corinth. When
we recall the extensive list of inferior British painters who are not
only given biographies but praised, we wonder on just what grounds the
_Britannica_ was advertised and sold as an “_international_ dictionary of
biography.”

It might be well to note here that Van Gogh, the great Hollander, does
not appear once in the entire Encyclopædia: there is not so much as a
passing reference to him! Nor has Zorn or Hodler a biography. And Sorolla
draws just twenty lines in his biography, and Zuloaga less than half a
column.

Despite, however, the curtailed and inferior consideration given
Continental art, it does not suffer from prejudicial neglect nearly so
much as does American art. This is not wholly surprising in view of
the contempt in which England holds the cultural achievements of this
country—a contempt which is constantly being encountered in British
critical journals. But in the case of an encyclopædia whose stated aim
is to review impartially the world’s activities, this contempt should be
suppressed temporarily at least, especially as it is from America that
the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ is reaping its monetary harvest. There is,
though, no indication that England’s contemptuous attitude toward our art
has even been diminished. Our artists are either disposed of with cursory
mention or ignored completely; and whenever it is possible for England to
claim any credit for the accomplishments of our artists, the opportunity
is immediately grasped.

It is true, of course, that the United States does not rank æsthetically
with certain of the older nations of Europe, but, considering America’s
youth, she has contributed many important names to the history of
painting, and among her artists there are many who greatly surpass the
inconsequent English academicians who are accorded generous treatment.

The editors of the Encyclopædia may contend that the work was compiled
for England and that therefore they were justified in placing emphasis
on a horde of obscure English painters and in neglecting significant
French and German artists. But they can offer no such excuse in regard
to America. The recent Eleventh Edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_
was printed with the very definite purpose of selling in the United
States; and the fact that they have sold many thousand copies of it
here precludes any reason why American artists should be neglected or
disposed of in a brief and perfunctory fashion. An American desiring
adequate information concerning the painters or sculptors of his own
country will seek through the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ in vain. If he is
entirely ignorant of æsthetic conditions in America and depends on the
Encyclopædia for his knowledge, he will be led to inaccurate conclusions.
The ideas of relative values established in his mind will be the reverse
of the truth, for he cannot fail but be affected by the meagre and
indifferent biographies of his native painters, as compared with the
lengthy and meticulous concern with which British painters are regarded.

And yet this is the encyclopædia which has been foisted upon the
American people by means of a P. T. Barnum advertising campaign almost
unprecedented in book history. And this also is the encyclopædia
which, in that campaign, called itself “a history of all nations, an
international dictionary of biography, an exhaustive gazetteer of the
world, a hand-book to all the arts”; and which announced that “every
artist or sculptor of note of any period, and of any land is the subject
of an interesting biography.” This last statement is true only in the
case of Great Britain. It is, as we have seen, not true of France or
Germany; and especially is it not true of America. Not only are many
American artists and sculptors of note omitted entirely, but many of
those who have been awarded mention are the victims of English insular
prejudice.

Looking up Benjamin West, who, by historians and critics has always been
regarded as an American artist, we find him designated as an “English”
painter. The designation is indeed astonishing, since not only does the
world know him as an American, but West himself thought that he was an
American. Perhaps the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, by some obscure process
of logic, considers nationality from the standpoint of one’s sentimental
adoption. This being the case, Richard Le Gallienne would be an
“American” poet. But when we turn to Le Gallienne’s biography we discover
that, after all, he is “English.” Apparently the rule does not work with
Englishmen. It is true that West went to London and lived there; but he
was born in the United States, gained a reputation for painting here, and
did not go to England until he was twenty-five. It is noteworthy that
West, the “English” painter, is accorded considerable space.

Whistler, who also chose England in preference to America, is given
nearly a page and a half with not unfavorable criticism. We cannot
refrain from wondering what would have been Whistler’s fate at the hands
of the Encyclopædia’s editors had he remained in his native country.
Sargent, surely a painter of considerable importance and one who is
regarded in many enlightened quarters as a great artist, is dismissed
with less than half a column! Even this comparatively long biography
for an American painter may be accounted for by the following comment:
“Though of the French school, and American by birth, it is as a British
artist that he won fame.” Again, Abbey receives high praise and quite
a long biography, comparatively speaking. Once more we wonder if this
painter’s adoption of England as his home does not account for his
liberal treatment. Albert F. Bellows, too, gets fourteen lines, in which
it is noted that “he painted much in England.”

Compare the following record with the amounts of space accorded British
second-rate painters: William Chase, sixteen lines; Vedder, a third of
a column; de Forest Brush, fifteen lines; T. W. Dewing, twelve lines;
A. H. Wyant, ten lines; A. P. Ryder, eight lines; Tryon, fifteen lines;
John W. Alexander, sixteen lines; Gari Melchers, eighteen lines; Childe
Hassam, fifteen lines; Blashfield, ten lines; J. Francis Murphy, fifteen
lines; Blakelock, eight lines. Among these names are painters of a high
and important order—painters who stand in the foremost rank of American
art, and who unquestionably are greater than a score of English painters
who receive very special critical biographies, some of which extend over
columns. And yet—apparently for no other discernible reason than that
they are Americans—they are given the briefest mention with no specific
criticism. Only the barest biographical details are set down.

But if many of the American painters who have made our art history are
dismissed peremptorily in biographies which, I assure you, are not
“interesting,” and which obviously are far from adequate or even fair
when compared with the consideration given lesser English painters,
what answer have the editors of the _Britannica_ to offer their American
customers when many of our noteworthy and important artists are omitted
altogether? On what grounds is a biography of J. Alden Weir omitted
entirely? For what reason does the name of Robert Henri not appear? Henri
is one of the very important figures in modern American painting.

Furthermore, inspection reveals the fact that among those American
“painters of note” who, so far as biographical mention in the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ is concerned, do not exist, are Mary Cassatt,
George Bellows, Twachtman, C. W. Hawthorne, Glackens, Jerome Meyers,
George Luks, Sergeant Kendall, Paul Dougherty, Allen Talcott, Thomas
Doughty, Richard Miller and Charles L. Elliott.

I could add more American painters to the list of those who are omitted
and who are of equal importance with certain British painters who are
included; but enough have been mentioned to prove the gross inadequacy of
the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ as an educational record of American art.

Outside of certain glaring omissions, what we read in the Encyclopædia
concerning the painters of France and Germany may be fair, from a
purely impartial standard, if taken alone: in some instances, I believe,
judicial critics of these other nations have performed the service. But
when these unprejudiced accounts are interspersed with the patriotic
and enthusiastic glorifications of British art, the only conclusion
which the uninformed man can draw from the combination is that the chief
beauties of modern painting have sprung from England—a conclusion which
illy accords both with the facts and with the judgment of the world’s
impartial critics. But in the case of American art, not even the strictly
impartial treatment occasionally accorded French and German painters is
to be found, with the result that, for the most part, our art suffers
more than that of any other nation when compared, in the pages of the
_Britannica_, with British art.



VII

MUSIC


There is one field of culture—namely, music—in which Great Britain has
played so small and negligible a part that it would seem impossible, even
for the passionately patriotic editors of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_,
to find any basis on which an impressive monument to England could
be erected. Great Britain, admittedly, possesses but slight musical
significance when compared with other nations. The organisms of her
environment, the temper of her intellect, her very intellectual fibre,
are opposed to the creation of musical composition.

This art in England, save during the Elizabethan era, has been largely a
by-product. No great musical genius has come out of Great Britain; and
in modern times she has not produced even a great second-rate composer.
So evident is England’s deficiency in this field, that any one insisting
upon it runs the risk of being set down a platitudinarian. Even British
critics of the better class have not been backward in admitting the
musical poverty of their nation; and many good histories of music have
come out of England: indeed, one of the very best encyclopædias on this
subject was written by Sir George Grove.

To attempt to place England on an equal footing with other nations in
the realm of music is to alter obvious facts. Name all the truly great
composers since 1700, and not one of them will be an Englishman. In fact,
it is possible to write an extensive history of music from that date to
the present time without once referring to Great Britain. England, as the
world knows, is not a musical nation. Her temperament is not suited to
subtle complexities of plastic harmonic expression. Her modern composers
are without importance; and for every one of her foremost musical
creators there can be named a dozen from other nations who are equally
inspired, and yet who hold no place in the world’s musical evolution
because of contemporary fellow-countrymen who overshadow them.

As I have said, it would seem impossible, even for so narrowly provincial
and chauvinistic a work as the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, to find any
plausible basis for the glorification of English musical genius. But
where others fail to achieve the impossible, the _Britannica_ succeeds.
In the present instance, however, the task has been difficult, for
there is a certain limit to the undeserved praise which even a blatant
partisan can confer on English composers; and there is such a paucity
of conspicuous names in the British musical field that an encyclopædia
editor finds it difficult to gather enough of them together to make an
extensive patriotic showing. He can, however, omit or neglect truly
significant names of other nations while giving undue prominence to
second- and third-rate English composers.

And this is exactly the method followed by the editors of the
_Britannica_. But the disproportionments are so obvious, the omissions
so glaring, and the biographies and articles so distorted, both as to
space and comment, that almost any one with a knowledge of music will
be immediately struck by their absurdity and injustice. Modern musical
culture, as set forth in this encyclopædia, is more biased than any
other branch of culture. In this field the limits of the _Britannica’s_
insularity would seem to have been reached.

I have yet to see even a short history of modern music which is not more
informative and complete, and from which a far better idea of musical
evolution could not be gained. And I know of no recent book of composers,
no matter how brief, which does not give more comprehensive information
concerning musical writers than does that “supreme book of knowledge,”
the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. So deficient is it in its data, and so
many great and significant modern composers are denied biographical
mention in it, that one is led to the conclusion that little or no effort
was made to bring it up-to-date.

It would be impossible in this short chapter to set down anywhere near
all the inadequacies, omissions and disproportions which inform the
_Britannica’s_ treatment of music. Therefore I shall confine myself
largely to modern music, since this subject is of foremost, vital concern
at present; and I shall merely indicate the more glaring instances
of incompleteness and neglect. Furthermore, I shall make only enough
comparisons between the way in which British music is treated and
the way in which the music of other nations is treated, to indicate
the partisanship which underlies the outlook of this self-styled
“international” and “universal” reference work.

Let us first regard the general article _Music_. In that division of the
article entitled, _Recent Music_—that is, music during the last sixty or
seventy-five years—we find the following astonishing division of space:
recent German music receives just eleven lines; recent French music,
thirty-eight lines, or less than half a column; recent Italian music,
nineteen lines; recent Russian music, thirteen lines; and recent British
music, _nearly four columns, or two full pages_!

Regard these figures a moment. That period of German musical composition
which embraced such men as Humperdinck, Richard Strauss, Karl Goldmark,
Hugo Wolf, Gustav Mahler, Bruch, Reinecke, and von Bülow, is allotted
only eleven lines, and only two of the above names are even mentioned!
And yet modern British music, which is of vastly lesser importance, is
given _thirty-five times_ as much space as modern German music, and _ten
times_ as much space as modern French music! In these figures we have an
example of prejudice and discrimination which it would be hard to match
in any other book or music in existence. It is unnecessary to criticise
such bias: the figures themselves are more eloquently condemning than any
comment could possibly be. And it is to this article on recent music,
with its almost unbelievable distortions of relative importance, that
thousands of Americans will apply for information. Furthermore, in the
article _Opera_ there is no discussion of modern realistic developments,
and the names of Puccini and Charpentier are not even included!

In the biographies of English composers is to be encountered the same
sort of prejudice and exaggeration. Sterndale Bennett, the inferior
British Mendelssohn, is given nearly a column, and in the criticism
of him we read: “The principal charm of Bennett’s compositions (not
to mention his absolute mastery of the musical form) consists in the
tenderness of their conception, rising occasionally to sweetest musical
intensity.” Turning from Bennett, the absolute master of form, to William
Thomas Best, the English organist, we find nearly a half-column biography
of fulsome praise, in which Best is written down as an “all-round
musician.” Henry Bishop receives two-thirds of a column. “His melodies
are clear, flowing, appropriate and often charming; and his harmony is
always pure, simple and sweet.”

Alfred Cellier is accorded nearly half a column, in which we are told
that his music was “invariably distinguished by elegance and refinement.”
Frederick Cowen also wrote music which was “refined”; and in his
three-fourths-of-a-column biography it is stated that “he succeeds
wonderfully in finding graceful expression for the poetical idea.” John
Field infused “elegance” into his music. His biography is over half
a column in length, and we learn that his nocturnes “remain all but
unrivaled for their tenderness and dreaminess of conception, combined
with a continuous flow of beautiful melody.”

Edward Elgar receives no less than two-thirds of a column, in which are
such phrases as “fine work,” “important compositions,” and “stirring
melody.” Furthermore, his first orchestral symphony was “a work of marked
power and beauty, developing the symphonic form with the originality
of a real master of his art.” The world outside of England will be
somewhat astonished to know that Elgar took part in the development of
the symphonic form and that he was a real master of music. John Hatton,
in a two-thirds-of-a-column biography, is praised, but not without
reservation. He might, says the article, have gained a place of higher
distinction among English composers “had it not been for his irresistible
animal spirits and a want of artistic reverence.” He was, no doubt,
without the “elegance” and “refinement” which seem to characterize so
many English composers.

But Charles Parry evidently had no shortcomings to detract from his
colossal and heaven-kissing genius. He is given a biography of nearly
a column, and it is packed with praise. In some of his compositions to
sacred words “are revealed the highest qualities of music.” He has “skill
in piling up climax after climax, and command of every choral resource.”
But this is not all. In some of his works “he shows himself master of the
orchestra”; and his “exquisite” chamber music and part-songs “maintain
the high standard of his greater works.” Not even here does his genius
expire. _Agamemnon_ “is among the most impressive compositions of the
kind.” Furthermore, _The Frogs_ is a “striking example of humor in
music.” All this would seem to be enough glory for any man, but Parry
has not only piled Pelion on Ossa but has scaled Olympus. Outside his
creative music, “his work for music was of the greatest importance”; his
_Art of Music_ is a “splendid monument of musical literature.” ... There
is even more of this kind of eulogy—too much of it to quote here; but,
once you read it, you cannot help feeling that the famous triumvirate,
Brahms, Bach and Beethoven, has now become the quartet, Brahms, Bach,
Beethoven, and Parry.

The vein of William Shield’s melody “was conceived in the purest and most
delicate taste”; and his biography is half a column in length. Goring
Thomas is accorded two-thirds of a column; and it is stated that not only
does his music reveal “a great talent for dramatic composition and a
real gift of refined and beautiful melody,” but that he was “personally
the most admirable of men.” Michael Costa, on the other hand, was
evidently not personally admirable, for in his half-column biography we
read: “He was the great conductor of his day, but both his musical and
his human sympathies were somewhat limited.” (Costa was a Spaniard by
birth.) Samuel Wesley, Jr.’s, anthems are “masterly in design, fine in
inspiration and expression, and noble in character.” His biography runs
to half a column. Even Wesley, Sr., has a third of a column biography.

The most amazing biography from the standpoint of length, however, is
that of Sir Arthur Sullivan. It runs to three and a third columns (being
much longer than Haydn’s!) and is full of high praise of a narrowly
provincial character. Thomas Attwood receives a half-column biography;
Balfe, the composer of _The Bohemian Girl_, receives nearly a column;
Julius Benedict, two-thirds of a column; William Jackson, nearly
two-thirds of a column; Mackenzie, over three-fourths of a column; John
Stainer, two-thirds of a column; Charles Stanford, nearly a column;
Macfarren, over half a column; Henry Hugo Pierson, half a column; John
Hullah, considerably over half a column; William Crotch, over half a
column; Joseph Barnby, nearly half a column; John Braham, two-thirds
of a column. And many others of no greater importance receive liberal
biographies—for instance, Frederic Clay, John Barnett, George Elvey, John
Goss, MacCunn, James Turle, and William Vincent Wallace.

Bearing all this in mind, we will now glance at the biographies of modern
German composers in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. Johann Strauss,
perhaps the greatest of all waltz writers, is given only half a column,
less space than that given to John Field or William Crotch; and the
only criticism of his music is contained in the sentence: “In Paris he
associated himself with Musard, whose quadrilles became not much less
popular than his own waltzes; but his greatest successes were achieved in
London.” Hummel, the most brilliant virtuoso of his day, whose concertos
and masses are still popular, receives less space than John Hatton.

But what of Brahms, one of the three great composers of the world?
Incredible as it may seem, he is given a biography even shorter than that
of Sir Arthur Sullivan! And Robert Franz, perhaps the greatest lyrical
writer since Schubert, receives considerably less space than William
Jackson. Richard Strauss is allotted only a column and two-thirds, about
equal space with Charles Burney, the musical historian, and William Byrd;
and in it we are given little idea of his greatness. In fact, the critic
definitely says that it remains to be seen for what Strauss’s name will
live! When one thinks of the tremendous influence which Strauss has had,
and of the way in which he has altered the musical conceptions of the
world, one can only wonder, astounded, why, in an encyclopædia as lengthy
as the _Britannica_, he should be dismissed with so inadequate and inept
a biography.

After such injustice in the case of Strauss, it does not astonish one to
find that Max Bruch, one of the most noteworthy figures in modern German
music, and Reinecke, an important composer and long a professor at the
Leipsic Conservatory, should receive only thirty lines each. But the
neglect of Strauss hardly prepared us for the brief and incomplete record
which passes for Humperdinck’s biography—a biography shorter than that of
Cramer, William Hawes, Henry Lazarus, the English clarinettist, and Henry
Smart!

Mendelssohn, the great English idol, receives a biography out of all
proportion to his importance—a biography twice as long as that of Brahms,
and considerably longer than either Schumann’s or Schubert’s! And it
is full of effulgent praise and more than intimates that Mendelssohn’s
counterpoint was like Bach’s, that his sonata-form resembled Beethoven’s,
and that he invented a new style no less original than Schubert’s!
Remembering the parochial criterion by which the Encyclopædia’s editors
judge art, we may perhaps account for this amazing partiality to
Mendelssohn by the following ludicrous quotation from his biography: “His
earnestness as a Christian needs no stronger testimony than that afforded
by his own delineation of the character of St. Paul; but it is not too
much to say that his heart and life were pure as those of a little child.”

Although Hugo Wolf’s biography is a column and a half in length, Konradin
Kreutzer gets only eighteen lines; Nicolai, who wrote _The Merry Wives
of Windsor_, only ten lines; Suppé, only fifteen; Nessler, only twelve;
Franz Abt, only ten; Henselt, only twenty-six; Heller, only twenty-two;
Lortzing, only twenty; and Thalberg, only twenty-eight. In order to
realize how much prejudice, either conscious or unconscious, entered into
these biographies, compare the amounts of space with those given to the
English composers above mentioned. Even Raff receives a shorter biography
than Mackenzie; and von Bülow’s and Goldmark’s biographies are briefer
than Cowen’s.

But where the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ shows its utter inadequacy as
a guide to modern music is in the long list of omission. For instance,
there is no biography of Marschner, whose _Hans Heiling_ still survives
in Germany; of Friedrich Silcher, who wrote most of the famous German
“folk-songs”; of Gustav Mahler, one of the truly important symphonists of
modern times; of the Scharwenka brothers; or of Georg Alfred Schumann—all
sufficiently important to have a place in an encyclopædia like the
_Britannica_.

But—what is even more inexcusable—Max Reger, one of the most famous
German composers of the day, has no biography. Nor has Eugen d’Albert,
renowned for both his chamber music and operas. (D’Albert repudiated his
English antecedents and settled in Germany.) Kreisler also is omitted,
although Kubelik, five years Kreisler’s junior, draws a biography. In
view of the obvious contempt which the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ has for
America, it may be noted in this connection that Kreisler’s first great
success was achieved in America, whereas Kubelik made his success in
London before coming to this country.

Among the German and Austrian composers who are without biographical
mention in the _Britannica_, are several of the most significant musical
creators of modern times—men who are world figures and whose music is
known on every concert stage in the civilized world. On what possible
grounds are Mahler, Reger and Eugen d’Albert denied biographies in an
encyclopædia which dares advertise itself as a “complete library of
knowledge” and as an “international dictionary of biography”? And how is
it possible for one to get any adequate idea of the wealth or importance
of modern German music from so biased and incomplete a source? Would the
Encyclopædia’s editors dare state that such a subject would not appeal to
“intelligent” persons? And how will the Encyclopædia’s editors explain
away the omission of Hanslick, the most influential musical critic that
ever lived, when liberal biographies are given to several English critics?

Despite the incomplete and unjust treatment accorded German and Austrian
music in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, modern French music receives
scarcely better consideration. Chopin is given space only equal to that
of Purcell. Berlioz and Gounod, who are allotted longer biographies than
any other modern French composers, receive, nevertheless, considerably
less space than Sir Arthur Sullivan. Saint-Saëns and Debussy receive
less than half the space given to Sullivan, while Auber and César Franck
are given only about equal space with Samuel Arnold, Balfe, Sterndale
Bennett, and Charles Stanford! Massenet has less space than William
Thomas Best or Joseph Barnby, and three-fourths of it is taken up with a
list of his works. The remainder of the biographies are proportionately
brief. There is not one of them of such length that you cannot find
several longer biographies of much less important English composers.

Furthermore, one finds unexplainable errors and omissions in them. For
instance, although Ernest Reyer died January 15, 1909, there is no
mention of it in his biography; but there is, however, the statement that
his _Quarante Ans de Musique_ “was published in 1909.” This careless
oversight in not noting Reyer’s death while at the same time recording
a still later biographical fact is without any excuse, especially as
the death of Dudley Buck, who died much later than Reyer, is included.
Furthermore, the biography omits stating that Reyer became Inspector
General of the Paris Conservatoire in 1908. Nor is his full name given,
nor the fact recorded that his correct name was Rey.

Again, although Théodore Dubois relinquished his Directorship of the
Conservatory in 1905, his biography in the _Britannica_ merely mentions
that he began his Directorship in 1896, showing that apparently no effort
was made to complete the material. Still again, although Fauré was made
Director of the Conservatory in 1905, the fact is not set down in his
biography. And once more, although d’Indy visited America in 1905 and
conducted the Boston Symphony Orchestra, the fact is omitted from his
biography.... These are only a few of the many indications to be found
throughout the _Britannica_ that this encyclopædia is untrustworthy and
that its editors have not, as they claim, taken pains to bring it up to
date.

Among the important French composers who should have biographies, but
who are omitted from the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, are Guilmant,
perhaps the greatest modern organist and an important classico-modern
composer; Charpentier, who with Puccini, stands at the head of the modern
realistic opera, and whose _Louise_ is to-day in every standard operatic
repertoire; and Ravel, the elaborate harmonist of the moderns.

Even greater inadequacy—an inadequacy which could not be reconciled with
an encyclopædia one-fourth the size of the _Britannica_—exists in the
treatment of modern Russian music. So brief, so inept, so negligent is
the material on this subject that, as a reference book, the _Britannica_
is practically worthless. The most charitable way of explaining this
woeful deficiency is to attribute it to wanton carelessness. Anton
Rubinstein, for instance, is given a biography about equal with Balfe
and Charles Stanford; while his brother Nikolaus, one of the greatest
pianists and music teachers of his day, and the founder of the
Conservatorium of Music at Moscow, has no biography whatever! Glinka,
one of the greatest of Russian composers and the founder of a new school
of music, is dismissed with a biography no longer than those of John
Braham, the English singer, John Hatton, the Liverpool genius with the
“irresistible animal spirits,” and William Jackson; and shorter than that
of Charles Dibdin, the British song-writer!

Tschaikowsky receives less than two columns, a little over half the space
given to Sullivan. The criticism of his work is brief and inadequate, and
in it there is no mention of his liberal use of folk-songs which form
the basis of so many of his important compositions, such as the second
movement of his Fourth and the first movement of his First Symphonies.
Borodin, another of the important musical leaders of modern Russia, has
a biography which is no longer than that of Frederic Clay, the English
light-opera writer and whist expert; and which is considerably shorter
than the biography of Alfred Cellier. Balakirev, the leader of the “New
Russian” school, has even a shorter biography, shorter in fact than the
biography of Henry Hugo Pierson, the weak English oratorio writer.

The biography of Moussorgsky—a composer whose importance needs no
indication here—is only fifteen lines in length, shorter even than
William Hawes’s, Henry Lazarus’s, George Elvey’s, or Henry Smart’s! And
yet Moussorgsky was “one of the finest creative composers in the ranks of
the modern Russian school.” Rimsky-Korsakov, another of the famous modern
Russians, whose work has long been familiar both in England and America,
draws less space than Michael Costa, the English conductor of Spanish
origin, or than Joseph Barnby, the English composer-conductor of _Sweet
and Low_ fame.

Glazunov is given a biography only equal in length to that of John
Goss, the unimportant English writer of church music. And although
the biography tells us that he became Professor of the St. Petersburg
Conservatory in 1900, it fails to mention that he was made Director
in 1908—a bit of inexcusable carelessness which, though of no great
importance, reveals the slip-shod incompleteness of the _Britannica’s_
Eleventh Edition. Furthermore, many important works of Glazunov are not
noted at all.

Here ends the _Encyclopædia’s_ record of modern Russian composers! César
Cui, one of the very important modern Russians, has no biography whatever
in this great English cultural work, although we find liberal accounts of
such British composers as Turle, Walmisley, Potter, Richards (whose one
bid to fame is having written _God Bless the Prince of Wales_) and George
Alexander Lee, the song-writer whose great popular success was _Come
Where the Aspens Quiver_. Nor will you find any biographical information
of Arensky, another of the leading Russian composers of the new school;
nor of Taneiev or Grechaninov—both of whom have acquired national and
international fame. Even Scriabine, a significant Russian composer who
has exploited new theories of scales and harmonies of far-reaching
influence, is not considered of sufficient importance to be given a
place (along with insignificant Englishmen like Lacy and Smart) in the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_.

The most astonishing omission, however, is that of Rachmaninov. Next to
omitting César Cui, the complete ignoring of so important and universally
accepted a composer as Rachmaninov, whose symphonic poem, _The Island
of the Dead_, is one of the greatest Russian works since Tschaikowsky,
is the most indefensible of all. On what possible grounds can the
_Encyclopædia Britannica_ defend its extravagant claims to completeness
when the name of so significant and well-known a composer as Rachmaninov
does not appear in the entire twenty-nine volumes?

In the list of the important modern Italian musicians included in the
_Britannica_ one will seek in vain for information of Busoni, who has not
only written much fine instrumental music, but who is held by many to be
the greatest living virtuoso of the piano; or of Wolf-Ferrari, one of the
important leaders of the new Italian school. And though Tosti, whose name
is also omitted, is of slight significance, he is of far greater popular
importance than several English song-writers who are accorded biographies.

Even Puccini, who has revolutionized the modern opera and who stands
at the head of living operatic composers, is given only eleven lines
of biography, less space than is given to George Alexander Lee or John
Barnett, and only equal space with Lacy, the Irish actor with musical
inclinations, and Walmisley, the anthem writer and organist at Trinity
College. It is needless to say that no biography of eleven lines, even
if written in shorthand, would be adequate as a source of information
for such a composer as Puccini. The fact that he visited America in 1907
is not even mentioned, and although at that time he selected his theme
for _The Girl of the Golden West_ and began work on it in 1908, you will
have to go to some other work more “supreme” than the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ for this knowledge.

Leoncavallo’s biography is of the same brevity as Puccini’s; and the
last work of his that is mentioned is dated 1904. His opera, _Songe d’Une
Nuit d’Été_, his symphonic poem, _Serafita_, and his ballet, _La Vita
d’Una Marionetta_—though all completed before 1908—are not recorded in
this revised and up-to-date library of culture. Mascagni, apparently,
is something of a favorite with the editors of the _Britannica_, for
his biography runs to twenty-three lines, nearly as long as that of
the English operatic composer, William Vincent Wallace, and of Alfred
Cellier, the infra-Sullivan. But even with this great partiality shown
him there is no record of his return from America to Italy in 1903 or of
the honor of Commander of the Crown of Italy which was conferred upon him.

Of important Northern composers there are not many, but the _Britannica_
has succeeded in minimizing even their small importance. Gade has a
biography only as long as Pierson’s; and Kjerulf, who did so much for
Norwegian music, is given less space than William Hawes, with no critical
indication of his importance. Even Grieg receives but a little more space
than Charles Stanford or Sterndale Bennett! Nordraak, who was Grieg’s
chief co-worker in the development of a national school of music, has
no biography whatever. Nor has Sinding, whose fine orchestral and
chamber music is heard everywhere. Not even Sibelius, whose very notable
compositions brought Finland into musical prominence, is considered
worthy of biographical mention.

But the most astonishing omission is that of Buxtehude, one of the great
and important figures in the early development of music. Not only was he
the greatest organist of his age, but he was a great teacher as well.
He made Lübeck famous for its music, and established the “Abendmusiken”
which Bach walked fifty miles to hear. To the _Britannica’s_ editor,
however, he is of less importance than Henry Smart, the English organist!

In Dvorák’s biography we learn that English sympathy was entirely won by
the _Stabat Mater_; but no special mention is made of his famous E-minor
(American) Symphony. Smetana, the first great Bohemian musician, receives
less space than Henry Bishop, who is remembered principally as the
composer of _Home, Sweet Home_.

But when we pass over into Poland we find inadequacy and omissions of
even graver character. Moszkowski receives just eight lines of biography,
the same amount that is given to _God-Bless-the-Prince-of-Wales_
Richards. Paderewski is accorded equal space with the English pianist,
Cipriani Potter; and no mention is made of his famous $10,000 fund
for the best American compositions. This is a characteristic omission,
however, for, as I have pointed out before, a composer’s activities in
America are apparently considered too trivial to mention, whereas, if it
is at all possible to connect England, even in a remote and far-fetched
way, with the genius of the world, it is done. Josef Hofmann, the other
noted Polish pianist, is too insignificant to be given even passing
mention in the _Britannica_. But such an inclusion could hardly be
expected of a reference work which contains no biography of Leschetizky,
the greatest and most famous piano teacher the world has ever known.

We come now to the most prejudiced and inexcusably inadequate musical
section in the whole _Britannica_—namely, to American composers.
Again we find that narrow patronage, that provincial condescension
and that contemptuous neglect which so conspicuously characterize the
_Encyclopædia Britannica’s_ treatment of all American institutions and
culture. We have already beheld how this neglect and contempt have worked
against our painters, our novelists, our poets and our dramatists; we
have seen what rank injustice has been dealt our artists and writers; we
have reviewed the record of omissions contained in this Encyclopædia’s
account of our intellectual activities. But in no other instance has
British scorn allowed itself so extreme and indefensible an expression as
in the peremptory manner in which our musical composers are dismissed.
The negligence with which American musical compositions and composers are
reviewed is greater than in the case of any other nation.

As I have said before, if the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ had been
compiled to sell only in suburban England, we would have no complaint
against the petty contempt shown our artists; but when an encyclopædia
is put together largely for the purpose of American distribution, the
sweeping neglect of our native creative effort resolves itself into an
insult which every American should hotly resent. And especially should
such neglect be resented when the advertising campaign with which the
_Britannica_ was foisted upon the public claimed for that work an exalted
supremacy as a library of international education, and definitely
stated that it contained an adequate discussion of every subject which
would appeal to intelligent persons. As I write this the _Britannica_
advertises itself as containing “an exhaustive account of all human
achievement.” But I think I have shown with pretty fair conclusiveness
that it does not contain anywhere near an exhaustive account of American
achievement; and yet I doubt if even an Englishman would deny that we
were “human.”

Let us see how “exhaustive” the _Britannica_ is in its record of American
musical achievement. To begin with, there are just thirty-seven lines
in the article on American composers; and for our other information we
must depend on the biographies. But what do we find? Dudley Buck is given
an incomplete biography of fourteen lines; and MacDowell draws thirty
lines of inadequate data. Gottschalk, the most celebrated of American
piano virtuosi, who toured Europe with great success and wrote much music
which survives even to-day, is surely of enough historical importance
to be given a biography; but his name does not so much as appear in the
_Britannica_. John Knowles Paine has no biography; nor has William Mason;
nor Arthur Foote; nor Chadwick; nor Edgar Stillman Kelly; nor Ethelbert
Nevin; nor Charles Loeffler; nor Mrs. Beach; nor Henry K. Hadley; nor
Cadman; nor Horatio Parker; nor Frederick Converse.

To be sure, these composers do not rank among the great world figures;
but they do stand for the highest achievement in American music, and it
is quite probable that many “intelligent” Americans would be interested
in knowing about them. In fact, from the standpoint of intelligent
interest, they are of far more importance than many lesser English
composers who are given biographies. And although Sousa has had the
greatest popular success of any composer since Johann Strauss, you will
hunt the _Britannica_ through in vain for even so much as a mention
of him. And while I do not demand the inclusion of Victor Herbert,
nevertheless if Alfred Cellier is given a place, Herbert, who is
Cellier’s superior in the same field, should not be discriminated against
simply because he is not an Englishman.

It will be seen that there is practically no record whatever of the
makers of American music; and while, to the world at large, our musical
accomplishments may not be of vital importance, yet to Americans
themselves—even “intelligent” Americans (if the English will admit that
such an adjective may occasionally be applied to us)—they are not only of
importance but of significance. It is not as if second-rate and greatly
inferior composers of Great Britain were omitted also; but when Ethelbert
Nevin is given no biography while many lesser British composers are not
only given biographies but praised as well, Americans have a complaint
which the _Britannica’s_ exploiters (who chummily advertise themselves as
“we Americans”) will find it difficult to meet.



VIII

SCIENCE


In the field of medicine and biology the _Encyclopædia Britannica_
reveals so narrow and obvious a partisanship that there has already been
no little resentment on the part of American scientists. This country is
surpassed by none in biological chemistry; and our fame in surgery and
medical experimentation is world-wide. Among the ranks of our scientists
stand men of such great importance and high achievement that no adequate
history of biology or medicine could be written without giving vital
consideration to them. Yet the _Britannica_ fails almost completely in
revealing their significance. Many of our great experimenters—men who
have made important original contributions to science and who have pushed
forward the boundaries of human knowledge—receive no mention whatever;
and many of our surgeons and physicians whose researches have marked
epochs in the history of medicine meet with a similar fate. On the other
hand you will find scores of biographies of comparatively little known
and unimportant English scientists, some of whom have contributed nothing
to medical and biological advancement.

It is not my intention to go into any great detail in this matter. I
shall not attempt to make a complete list of the glaring omissions
of our scientists or to set down anywhere near all of the lesser
British scientists who are discussed liberally and _con amore_ in the
_Britannica_. Such a record were unnecessary. But I shall indicate a
sufficient number of discrepancies between the treatment of American
scientists and the treatment of English scientists, to reveal the utter
inadequacy of the _Britannica_ as a guide to the history and development
of our science. If America did not stand so high in this field the
Encyclopædia’s editors would have some basis on which to explain away
their wanton discrimination against our scientific activities. But when,
as I say, America stands foremost among the nations of the world in
biological chemistry and also holds high rank in surgery and medicine,
there can be no excuse for such wilful neglect, especially as minor
British scientists are accorded liberal space and generous consideration.

First we shall set down those three earlier pathfinders in American
medicine whose names do not so much as appear in the _Britannica’s_
Index:—John Morgan, who in 1765, published his _Discourse Upon the
Institution of Medical Schools in America_, thus becoming the father of
medical education in the United States; William Shippen, Jr., who aided
John Morgan in founding our first medical school, the medical department
of the University of Pennsylvania, and gave the first public lectures
in obstetrics in this country, and who may be regarded as the father
of American obstetrics; and Thomas Cadwalader, the first Philadelphian
(at this time Philadelphia was the medical center of America) to teach
anatomy by dissections, and the author of one of the best pamphlets on
lead poisoning.

Among the somewhat later important American medical scientists who are
denied any mention in the _Britannica_ are; John Conrad Otto, the first
who described hemophilia (an abnormal tendency to bleeding); James
Jackson, author of one of the first accounts of alcoholic neuritis; James
Jackson, Jr., who left his mark in physical diagnosis; Elisha North, who
as early as 1811 advocated the use of the clinical thermometer in his
original description of cerebrospinal meningitis (the first book on the
subject); John Ware, who wrote one of the chief accounts of delirium
tremens; Jacob Bigelow, one of the very great names in American medicine,
whose essay, _On Self-Limited Diseases_, according to Holmes, “did more
than any other work or essay in our language to rescue the practice of
medicine from the slavery to the drugging system which was a part of the
inheritance of the profession”; W. W. Gerhard, who distinguished between
typhoid and typhus; Daniel Drake, known as the greatest physician of the
West, who as the result of thirty years of labor wrote the masterpiece,
_Diseases of the Interior Valley of North America_; Caspar Wistar, who
wrote the first American treatise on anatomy; and William Edmonds Horner,
who discovered the tensor tarsi muscle, known as Horner’s muscle....
Not only are these men not accorded biographies in the “universal” and
“complete” _Encyclopædia Britannica_, but their names do not appear!

The father of American surgery was Philip Syng Physick, who invented the
tonsillotome and introduced various surgical operations; but you must
look elsewhere than in the _Britannica_ for so much as a mention of him.
And although the history of American surgery is especially glorious and
includes such great names as: the Warrens; Wright Post; J. C. Nott, who
excised the coccyx and was the first who suggested the mosquito theory
of yellow fever; Henry J. Bigelow, the first to describe the Y-ligament;
Samuel David Gross, one of the chief surgeons of the nineteenth century;
Nicholas Senn, one of the masters of modern surgery; Harvey Cushing,
perhaps the greatest brain surgeon in the world to-day; George Crile,
whose revolutionary work in surgical shock was made long before the
_Britannica_ went to press; and William S. Halsted, among the greatest
surgeons of the world,—as I have said, although America has produced
these important men, the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ ignores the fact
entirely, and does not so much as record one of their names!

Were all the rest of American medical scientists given liberal
consideration in the _Britannica_, it would not compensate for the above
omissions. But these omissions are by no means all: they are merely the
beginning. The chief names in modern operative gynecology are American.
But of the nine men who are the leaders in this field, only one (Emmet)
has a biography, and only one (McDowell) receives casual mention.
Marion Sims who invented his speculum and introduced the operation for
vesicovaginal fistula, Nathan Bozeman, J. C. Nott (previously mentioned),
Theodore Gaillard Thomas, Robert Battey, E. C. Dudley, and Howard A.
Kelly do not exist for the _Britannica_.

Furthermore, of the four chief pioneers in anæsthesia—the practical
discovery and use of which was an American achievement—only two are
mentioned. The other two—C. W. Long, of Georgia, and the chemist,
Charles T. Jackson—are apparently unknown to the British editors of this
encyclopædia. And although in the history of pediatrics there is no
more memorable name than that of Joseph O’Dwyer, of Ohio, whose work in
intubation has saved countless numbers of infants, you will fail to find
any reference to him in this “unbiased” English reference work.

One must not imagine that even here ends the _Britannica’s_ almost
unbelievable injustice to American scientists. John J. Abel is
not mentioned either, yet Professor Abel is among the greatest
pharmacologists of the world. His researches in animal tissues and fluids
have definitely set forward the science of medicine; and it was Abel who,
besides his great work with the artificial kidney, first discovered the
uses of epinephrin. R. G. Harrison, one of the greatest biologists of
history, whose researches in the growth of tissue were epoch-making, and
on whose investigations other scientists also have made international
reputations, is omitted entirely from the _Britannica_. S. J. Meltzer,
the physiologist, who has been the head of the department of physiology
and pharmacology at Rockefeller Institute since 1906, is not in the
_Britannica_. T. H. Morgan, the zoölogist, whose many books on the
subject have long been standard works, is without a biography. E. B.
Wilson, one of the great pathfinders in zoölogy and a man who stands in
the front rank of that science, is also without a biography. And Abraham
Jacobi, who is the father of pediatrics in America, is not mentioned.

The list of wanton omissions is not yet complete! C. S. Minot, the great
American embryologist, is ignored. Theobald Smith, the pathologist,
is also thought unworthy of note. And among those renowned American
scientists who, though mentioned, failed to impress the Encyclopædia’s
English editor sufficiently to be given biographies are: John Kerasley
Mitchell, who was the first to describe certain neurological conditions,
and was one of the advocates of the germ theory of disease before
bacteriology; William Beaumont, the first to study digestion _in situ_;
Jacques Loeb, whose works on heliotropism, morphology, psychology, etc.,
have placed him among the world’s foremost imaginative researchers; H.
S. Jennings, another great American biologist; W. H. Welch, one of the
greatest of modern pathologists and bacteriologists; and Simon Flexner,
whose work is too well known to the world to need any description here.
These men unquestionably deserve biographies in any encyclopædia which
makes even a slight pretence of completeness, and to have omitted them
from the _Britannica_ was an indefensible oversight—or worse.

The editors of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ cannot explain away
these amazing omissions on the ground that the men mentioned are
not of sufficient importance to have come within the range of their
consideration; for, when we look down the list of _British_ medical
scientists who are given biographies, we can find at least a score of
far less important ones. For instance, Elizabeth G. Anderson, whose
claim to glory lies in her advocacy of admitting women into the medical
profession, is given considerably over half a column. Gilbert Blane, the
introducer of lime-juice into the English navy, also has a biography.
So has Richard Brocklesby, an eighteenth-century army physician; and
Andrew Clark, a fashionable London practitioner; and T. B. Curling; and
John Elliotson, the English mesmerist; and Joseph Fayrer, known chiefly
for his studies in the poisonous snakes of India; and J. C. Forster; and
James Clark, an army surgeon and physician in ordinary to Queen Victoria;
and P. G. Hewett, another surgeon to Queen Victoria; and many others of
no more prominence or importance.

In order to realize the astounding lengths of injustice to which the
_Britannica_ has gone in its petty neglect of America, compare these
English names which are given detailed biographical consideration, with
the American names which are left out. The editors of this encyclopædia
must either plead guilty to the most flagrant kind of prejudicial
discrimination against this country, or else confess to an abysmal
ignorance of the history and achievements of modern science.

It might be well to note here that Luther Burbank’s name is mentioned
only once in the _Britannica_, under _Santa Rosa_, the comment being that
Santa Rosa was his home. Not to have given Burbank a biography containing
an account of his important work is nothing short of preposterous. Is
it possible that Americans are not supposed to be interested in this
great scientist? And are we to assume that Marianne North, the English
naturalist and flower painter—who is given a detailed biography—is of
more importance than Burbank? The list of _English_ naturalists and
botanists who receive biographies in the _Britannica_ includes such
names as William Aiton, Charles Alston, James Anderson, W. J. Broderip,
and Robert Fortune; and yet there is no biography or even discussion of
Luther Burbank, the American!

Thus far in this chapter I have called attention only to the neglect
of American scientists. It must not be implied, however, that America
alone suffers from the _Britannica’s_ insular prejudice. No nation, save
England, is treated with that justice and comprehensiveness upon which
the Encyclopædia’s advertising has so constantly insisted. For instance,
although Jonathan Hutchinson, the English authority on syphilis, receives
(and rightly so) nearly half a column biography, Ehrlich, the world’s
truly great figure in that field, is not considered of sufficient
importance to be given biographical mention. It is true that Ehrlich’s
salvarsan did not become known until 1910, but he had done much immortal
work before then. Even Metchnikoff, surely one of the world’s greatest
modern scientists, has no biography! And although British biologists of
even minor importance receive biographical consideration, Lyonet, the
Hollander, who did the first structural work after Swammerdam, is without
a biography.

Nor are there biographies of Franz Leydig, through whose extensive
investigations all structural studies upon insects assumed a new aspect;
Rudolph Leuckart, another conspicuous figure in zoölogical progress;
Meckel, who stands at the beginning of the school of comparative anatomy
in Germany; Rathke, who made a significant advance in comparative
anatomy; Ramón y Cajal, whose histological research is of world-wide
renown; Kowalevsky, whose work in embryology had enormous influence
on all subsequent investigations; Wilhelm His, whose embryological
investigations, especially in the development of the nervous system and
the origin of nerve fibres, are of very marked importance; Dujardin,
the discoverer of sarcode; Lacaze-Duthiers, one of France’s foremost
zoölogical researchers; and Pouchet, who created a sensation with his
experimentations in spontaneous generation.

Even suppose the _Britannica’s_ editor should argue that the foregoing
biologists are not of the very highest significance and therefore are
not deserving of separate biographies, how then can he explain the fact
that such _British_ biologists as Alfred Newton, William Yarrell, John
G. Wood, G. J. Allman, F. T. Buckland, and T. S. Cobbold, are given
individual biographies with a detailed discussion of their work? What
becomes of that universality of outlook on which he so prides himself? Or
does he consider Great Britain as the universe?

As I have said, the foregoing notes do not aim at being exhaustive. To
set down, even from an American point of view, a complete record of
the inadequacies which are to be found in the _Britannica’s_ account
of modern science would require much more space than I can devote to
it here. I have tried merely to indicate, by a few names and a few
comparisons, the insular nature of this Encyclopædia’s expositions, and
thereby to call attention to the very obvious fact that the _Britannica_
is _not_ “an international dictionary of biography,” but a prejudiced
work in which English endeavor, through undue emphasis and exaggeration,
is given the first consideration. Should this Encyclopædia be depended
upon for information, one would get but the meagrest idea of the splendid
advances which America has made in modern science. And, although I have
here touched only on medicine and biology, the same narrow and provincial
British viewpoint can be found in the _Britannica’s_ treatment of the
other sciences as well.



IX

INVENTIONS, PHOTOGRAPHY, ÆSTHETICS


In the matter of American inventions the _Encyclopædia Britannica_
would appear to have said as little as possible, and to have minimized
our importance in that field as much as it dared. And yet American
inventors, to quote H. Addington Bruce, “have not simply astonished
mankind; they have enhanced the prestige, power, and prosperity of their
country.” The _Britannica’s_ editors apparently do not agree with this;
and when we think of the wonderful romance of American inventions, and
the possibilities in the subject for full and interesting writing, and
then read the brief, and not infrequently disdainful, accounts that are
presented, we are conscious at once not only of an inadequacy in the
matter of facts, but of a niggardliness of spirit.

Let us regard the Encyclopædia’s treatment of steam navigation. Under
_Steamboat_ we read: “The first practical steamboat was the tug
‘Charlotte Dundas,’ built by William Symington (Scotch), and tried in
the Forth and Clyde Canal in 1802.... The trial was successful, but
steam towing was abandoned for fear of injuring the banks of the canal.
Ten years later Henry Bell built the ‘Comet,’ with side-paddle wheels,
which ran as a passenger steamer on the Clyde; but an earlier inventor to
follow up Symington’s success was the American, Robert Fulton....”

This practically sums up the history of that notable achievement. Note
the method of presentation, with the mention of Fulton as a kind of
afterthought. While the data may technically come within the truth, the
impression given is a false one, or at least a British one. Even English
authorities admit that Fulton established definitely the value of the
steamboat as a medium for passenger and freight traffic; but here the
credit, through implication, is given to Symington and Bell. And yet, if
Symington is to be given so much credit for pioneer work, why are not
William Henry, of Pennsylvania, John Stevens, of New Jersey, Nathan Read,
of Massachusetts, and John Fitch, of Connecticut, mentioned also? Surely
each of these other Americans was important in the development of the
idea of steam as motive power in water.

Eli Whitney receives a biography of only two-thirds of a column; Morse,
less than a column; and Elias Howe, only a little over half a column.
Even Thomas Edison receives only thirty-three lines of biography—a
mere statement of facts. Such a biography is an obvious injustice;
and the American buyers of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ have just
cause for complaining against such inadequacy. Edison admittedly is a
towering figure in modern science, and an encyclopædia the size of the
_Britannica_ should have a full and interesting account of his life,
especially since obscure English scientists are accorded far more liberal
biographies.

Alexander Graham Bell, however, receives the scantiest biography of all.
It runs to just fifteen lines! And the name of Daniel Drawbaugh is not
mentioned. He and Bell filed their papers for a telephone on the same
day; and it was only after eight years’ litigation that the Supreme Court
decided in Bell’s favor—four judges favoring him and three favoring
Drawbaugh. No reference is made of this interesting fact. Would the
omission have occurred had Drawbaugh been an Englishman instead of a
Pennsylvanian, or had not Bell been a native Scotchman?

The name of Charles Tellier, the Frenchman, does not appear in the
_Britannica_. Not even under _Refrigerating and Ice Making_ is he
mentioned. And yet back in 1868 he began experiments which culminated in
the refrigerating plant as used on ocean vessels to-day. Tellier, more
than any other man, can be called the inventor of cold storage, one of
the most important of modern discoveries, for it has revolutionized the
food question and had far-reaching effects on commerce. Again we are
prompted to ask if his name would have been omitted from the _Britannica_
had he been an Englishman.

Another unaccountable omission occurs in the case of Rudolph Diesel.
Diesel, the inventor of the Diesel engine, is comparable only to Watts
in the development of power; but he is not considered of sufficient
importance by the editors of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ to be given
a biography. And under _Oil Engine_ we read: “Mr. Diesel has produced a
very interesting engine which departs considerably from other types.”
Then follows a brief technical description of it. This is the entire
consideration given to Diesel, with his “interesting” engine, despite
the fact that the British Government sent to Germany for him in order to
investigate his invention!

Few names in the history of modern invention stand as high as Wilbur and
Orville Wright. To them can be attributed the birth of the airplane. In
1908, to use the words of an eminent authority, “the Wrights brought
out their biplanes and practically taught the world to fly.” The
story of how these two brothers developed aviation is, according to
the same critic, “one of the most inspiring chronicles of the age.”
The _Britannica’s_ editors, if we are to judge their viewpoint by the
treatment accorded the Wright brothers in this encyclopædia, held no such
opinion. Not only is neither of these men given a biography, but under
_Flight and Flying_—the only place in the whole twenty-nine volumes where
their names appear—they are accorded much less consideration than they
deserve. Sir Hiram S. Maxim’s flying adventures receive more space.

       *       *       *       *       *

A subject which unfortunately is too little known in this country and yet
one in the development of which America has played a very important part,
is pictorial photography. A double interest therefore attaches to the
manner in which this subject is treated in the _Britannica_. Since the
writer of the article was thoroughly familiar with the true conditions,
an adequate record might have been looked for. But no such record was
forthcoming. In the discussion of photography in this Encyclopædia
the same bias is displayed as in other departments—the same petty
insularity, the same discrimination against America, the same suppression
of vital truth, and the same exaggerated glorification of England. In
this instance, however, there is documentary proof showing deliberate
misrepresentation, and therefore we need not attribute the shortcomings
to chauvinistic stupidity, as we have so charitably done in similar
causes.

In the article on _Pictorial Photography_ in this aggressibly British
reference work we find the following: “It is interesting to note that
as a distinct movement pictorial photography is essentially of British
origin, and this is shown by the manner in which organized photographic
bodies in Vienna, Brussels, Paris, St. Petersburg, Florence, and other
European cities, as well as in Philadelphia, Chicago, etc., following the
example of London, held exhibitions on exactly similar lines to those
of the London Photographic Salon, and invited known British exhibitors
to contribute.” Then it is noted that the interchange of works between
British and foreign exhibitors led, in the year 1900, “to a very
remarkable cult calling itself ‘The New American School,’ which had a
powerful influence on contemporaries in Great Britain.”

The foregoing brief and inadequate statements contain all the credit that
is given America in this field. New York, where much of the foremost
and important work was done, is not mentioned; and the name of Alfred
Stieglitz, who is undeniably the towering figure in American photography
as well as one of the foremost figures in the world’s photography,
is omitted entirely. Furthermore, slight indication is given of the
“powerful influence” which America has had; and the significant part
she has played in photography, together with the names of the American
leaders, is completely ignored, although there is quite a lengthy
discussion concerning English photographic history, including credit to
those who participated in it.

For instance, the American, Steichen, a world figure in photography and,
of a type, perhaps the greatest who ever lived, is not mentioned. Nor are
Gertrude Käsebier and Frank Eugene, both of whom especially the former,
has had an enormous international influence in pictorial photography.
And although there is a history of the formation of the “Linked Ring” in
London, no credit is given to Stieglitz whose work, during twenty-five
years in Germany and Vienna, was one of the prime influences in the
crystallization of this brotherhood. Nor is there so much as a passing
reference to _Camera Work_ (published in New York) which stands at the
head of photographic publications.

As I have said, there exists documentary evidence which proves the
deliberate unfairness of this article. It is therefore not necessary to
accept my judgment on the importance of Stieglitz and the work done in
America. A. Horsley Hinton, who is responsible for the prejudiced article
in the Encyclopædia, was the editor of _The Amateur Photographer_,
a London publication; and in that magazine, as long ago as 1904, we
have, in Mr. Hinton’s own words, a refutation of what he wrote for the
_Britannica_. In the May 19 (1904) issue he writes: “We believe every one
who is interested in the advance of photography generally, will learn
with pleasure that Mr. Alfred Stieglitz, whose life-long and wholly
disinterested devotion to pictorial photography should secure him a
unique position, will be present at the opening of the next Exhibition
of the Photographic Salon in London. Mr. Stieglitz was zealous in all
good photographic causes long before the Salon, and indeed long before
pictorial photography was discussed—with Dr. Vogel in Germany, for
instance, twenty-five years ago.”

Elsewhere in this same magazine we read: “American photography is
going to be the ruling note throughout the world unless others bestir
themselves; indeed, the Photo-Secession (American) pictures have already
captured the highest places in the esteem of the civilized world. Hardly
an exhibition of first importance is anywhere held without a striking
collection of American work, brought together and sent by Mr. Alfred
Stieglitz. For the last two or three years in the European exhibitions
these collections have secured the premier awards, or distinctions.” And
again we find high praise of Steichen, “than whom America possesses no
more brilliant genius among her sons who have taken up photography.”

These quotations—and many similar ones appeared over a decade ago in Mr.
Hinton’s magazine—give evidence that Mr. Hinton was not unaware of the
extreme importance of American photographic work or of the eminent men
who took part in it; and yet in writing his article for the _Britannica_
he has apparently carefully forgotten what he himself had previously
written.

But this is not the only evidence we have of deliberate injustice in
the Encyclopædia’s disgraceful neglect of our efforts in this line.
In 1913, in the same English magazine, we find not only an indirect
confession of the _Britannica’s_ bias, but also the personal reason
for that bias. Speaking of Stieglitz’s connection with that phase of
photographic history to which Mr. Hinton was most intimately connected,
this publication says: “At that era, and for long afterwards, Stieglitz
was, in fact, a thorn in our sides. ‘Who’s Boss of the Show?’ inquires
a poster, now placarded in London. Had that question been asked of
the (London) Salon, an irritated whisper of honesty would have replied
‘Stieglitz.’ And ... we didn’t like it. We couldn’t do without him; but
these torrential doctrines of his were, to be candid, a nuisance.... He
is an influence; an influence for which, even if photography were not
concerned, we should be grateful, but which, as it is, we photographers
can never perhaps justly estimate.” After this frank admission the
magazine adds: “Stieglitz—too big a man to need any ‘defense’—has been
considerably misunderstood and misrepresented, and, in so far as this is
so, photographers and photography itself are the losers.”

What better direct evidence could one desire than this naïf confession?
Yes, Stieglitz, who, according to Mr. Hinton’s own former publication,
was a thorn in that critic’s side, has indeed been “misrepresented”; but
nowhere has he been neglected with so little excuse as in Mr. Hinton’s
own article in the _Britannica_. And though—again according to this
magazine—Stieglitz is “too big a man to need any ‘defense,’” I cannot
resist defending him here; for the whole, petty, personal and degrading
affair is characteristic of the _Encyclopædia Britannica’s_ contemptible
treatment of America and Americans.

Such flagrant political intriguing, such an obvious attempt to use the
Encyclopædia to destroy America’s high place in the world of modern
achievement, can only arouse disgust in the unprejudiced reader. The
great light-bearer in the photographic field, _Camera Work_, if generally
known and appreciated, would have put Mr. Hinton’s own inferior magazine
out of existence as a power; and his omitting to mention it in his
article and even in his bibliography, is a flagrant example of the
_Britannica’s_ refusal to tell the whole truth whenever that truth would
harm England or benefit America.

       *       *       *       *       *

In view of the wide and growing interest in æsthetics and of the immense
progress which has been made recently in æsthetic research, one would
expect to find an adequate and comprehensive treatment of that subject in
a work like the _Britannica_. But here again one will be disappointed.
The article on æsthetics reveals a _parti pris_ which illy becomes a work
which should be, as it claims to be, objective and purely informative.
The author of the article is critical and not seldom argumentative;
and, as a result, full justice is not done the theories and research
of many eminent modern æstheticians. Twenty-two lines are all that are
occupied in setting forth the æsthetic writers in Germany since Goethe
and Schiller, and in this brief paragraph, many of the most significant
contributors to the subject are not even given passing mention. And,
incredible as it may seem, that division of the article which deals with
the German writers is shorter than the division dealing with English
writers!

One might forgive scantiness of material in this general article if it
were possible to find the leading modern æsthetic theories set forth in
the biographies of the men who conceived them. But—what is even more
astonishing in the Encyclopædia’s treatment of æsthetics—there are
no biographies of many of the scientists whose names and discoveries
are familiar to any one even superficially interested in the subject.
Several of these men, whose contributions have marked a new epoch in
psychological and æsthetic research, are not even mentioned in the text
of the Encyclopædia; and the only indication we have that they lived
and worked is in an occasional foot-note. Their names do not so much as
appear in the Index!

Külpe, one of the foremost psychologists and æstheticians, has no
biography, and he is merely mentioned in a foot-note as being an
advocate of the principle of association. Lipps, who laid the foundation
of the new philosophy of æsthetics and formulated the hypothesis
of _Einfühlung_, has no biography. His name appears once—under
_Æsthetics_—and his theory is actually disputed by the critic who
wrote the article. Groos, another important æsthetic leader, is also
without a biography; and his name is not in the _Britannica’s_ Index.
Nor is Hildebrand, whose solutions to the problem of form are of grave
importance, thought worthy of mention.

There is no excuse for such inadequacy, especially as England possesses
in Vernon Lee a most capable interpreter of æsthetics—a writer thoroughly
familiar with the subject, and one whose articles and books along this
line of research have long been conspicuous for their brilliancy and
thoroughness.

Furthermore, in this article we have another example of the
_Britannica’s_ contempt for American achievement. This country has made
important contributions to æsthetics; and only an Englishman could
have written a modern exposition of the subject without referring to
the researches of William James and Hugo Münsterberg. The Lange-James
hypothesis has had an important influence on æsthetic theory; and
Münsterberg’s observations on æsthetic preference, form-perception and
projection of feelings, play a vital rôle in the history of modern
æsthetic science; but you will look in vain for any mention of these
Americans’ work. Münsterberg’s _Principles of Art Education_ is not even
included in the bibliography.



X

PHILOSOPHY


One going to the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ for critical information
concerning philosophy will encounter the very essence of that spirit
which is merely reflected in the other departments of the Encyclopædia’s
culture. In this field the English editors and contributors of the
_Britannica_ are dealing with the sources of thought, and as a result
British prejudice finds a direct outlet.

To be sure, it is difficult for a critic possessing the mental
characteristics and the ethical and religious predispositions of his
nation, to reveal the entire field of philosophy without bias. He has
certain temperamental affinities which will draw him toward his own
country’s philosophical systems, and certain antipathies which will
turn him against contrary systems of other nations. But in the higher
realms of criticism it is possible to find that intellectual detachment
which can review impersonally the development of thought, no matter what
tangential directions it may take. There have been several adequate
histories of philosophy written by British critics, proving that it is
not necessary for an Englishman to regard the evolution of thinking only
through distorted and prejudiced eyes.

The _Encyclopædia Britannica_, however, evidently holds to no such just
ideal in its exposition of philosophical research. Only in a very few
of the biographies do we find evidences of an attempt to set forth this
difficult subject with impartiality. As in its other departments, the
Encyclopædia places undue stress on British thinkers: it accords them
space out of all proportion to their relative importance, and includes
obscure and inconsequent British moralists while omitting biographies of
far more important thinkers of other nations.

This obvious discrepancy in space might be overlooked did the actual
material of the biographies indicate the comparative importance of the
thinkers dealt with. But when British critics consider the entire history
of thought from the postulates of their own writers, and emphasize only
those philosophers of foreign nationality who appeal to “English ways
of thinking,” then it is impossible to gain any adequate idea of the
philosophical teachings of the world as a whole. And this is precisely
the method pursued by the _Britannica_ in dealing with the history
and development of modern thought. In nearly every instance, and in
every important instance, it has been an English didactician who has
interpreted for this Encyclopædia the teachings of the world’s leading
philosophers; and there are few biographies which do not reveal British
prejudice.

The modern English critical mind, being in the main both insular and
middle-class, is dominated by a suburban moral instinct. And even among
the few more scholarly critics there is a residue of puritanism which
tinctures the syllogisms and dictates the deductions. In bringing their
minds to bear on creative works these critics are filled with a sense of
moral disquietude. At bottom they are Churchmen. They mistake the tastes
and antipathies which have been bred in them by a narrow religious and
ethical culture, for pure critical criteria. They regard the great men of
other nations through the miasma of their tribal taboos.

This rigid and self-satisfied provincialism of outlook, as applied to
philosophers in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, is not, I am inclined to
believe, the result of a deliberate attempt to exaggerate the importance
of British thinkers and to underrate the importance of non-British
thinkers. To the contrary, it is, I believe, the result of an unconscious
ethical prejudice coupled with a blind and self-contented patriotism.
But whatever the cause, the result is the same. Consequently, any one
who wishes an unbiased exposition of philosophical history must go to
a source less insular, and less distorted than the _Britannica_. Only
a British moralist, or one encrusted with British morality, will be
wholly satisfied with the manner in which philosophy is here treated; and
since there are a great many Americans who have not, as yet, succumbed
to English _bourgeois_ theology and who do not believe, for instance,
that Isaac Newton is of greater philosophic importance than Kant, this
Encyclopædia will be of far more value to an Englishman than to an
American.

The first distortion which will impress one who seeks information in
the _Britannica_ is to be found in the treatment of English empirical
philosophers—that is, of John Locke, Isaac Newton, George Berkeley,
Shaftesbury, Francis Hutcheson, Joseph Butler, Mandeville, Hume, Adam
Smith and David Hartley. Locke receives fifteen columns of detailed
exposition, with inset headings. “He was,” we are told, “typically
English in his reverence for facts” and “a signal example in the
Anglo-Saxon world of the love of attainable truth for the sake of truth
and goodness.” Then we are given the quotation: “If Locke made few
discoveries, Socrates made none.” Furthermore, he was “memorable in the
record of human progress.”

Isaac Newton receives no less than nineteen columns filled with specific
and unstinted praise; and in the three-and-a-half column biography of
George Berkeley we learn that Berkeley’s “new conception marks a distinct
stage of progress in human thought”; that “he once for all lifted the
problem of metaphysics to a higher level,” and, with Hume, “determined
the form into which later metaphysical questions have been thrown.”
Shaftesbury, whose main philosophical importance was due to his ethical
and moral speculations in refutation of Hobbes’ egoism, is represented by
a biography of four and a half columns!

Hume receives over fourteen columns, with inset headings; Adam Smith,
nearly nine columns, five and a half of which are devoted to a detailed
consideration of his _Wealth of Nations_. Hutcheson, the ethical moralist
who drew the analogy between beauty and virtue—the doctrinaire of the
moral sense and the benevolent feelings—is given no less than five
columns; while Joseph Butler, the philosophic divine who, we are told,
is a “typical instance of the English philosophical mind” and whose two
basic premises were the existence of a theological god and the limitation
of human knowledge, is given six and a half columns!

On the other hand, Mandeville receives only a column and two-thirds. To
begin with, he was of French parentage, and his philosophy (according
to the _Britannica_) “has always been stigmatized as false, cynical and
degrading.” He did not believe in the higher Presbyterian virtues, and
read hypocrisy into the vaunted goodness of the English. Although in a
history of modern philosophy he is deserving of nearly equal space with
Butler, in the _Britannica_ he is given only a little over one-fifth of
the space! Even David Hartley, the English physician who supplemented
Hume’s theory of knowledge, is given nearly as much consideration as the
“degrading” Mandeville. And Joseph Priestley, who merely popularized
these theories, is given no less than two columns.

Let us turn now to what has been called the “philosophy of the
enlightenment” in France and Germany, and we shall see the exquisite
workings of British moral prejudice in all its purity. Voltaire, we
learn, “was one of the most astonishing, if not exactly one of the more
admirable, figures of letters.” He had “cleverness,” but not “genius”;
and his great fault was an “inveterate superficiality.” Again: “Not the
most elaborate work of Voltaire is of much value for matter.” (The
biography, a derogatory and condescending one, is written by the eminent
moralist, George Saintsbury.)

Condillac, who is given far less space than either Berkeley or
Shaftesbury, only half of the space given Hutcheson, and only a little
over one-third of the space given Joseph Butler, is set down as important
for “having established systematically in France the principles of
Locke.” But his “genius was not of the highest order”; and in his
analysis of the mind “he missed out the active and spiritual side of
human experience.” James Mill did not like him, and his method of
imaginative reconstruction “was by no means suited to English ways of
thinking.” This latter shortcoming no doubt accounts for the meagre
and uncomplimentary treatment Condillac receives in the great British
reference work which is devoted so earnestly to “English ways of
thinking.”

Helvétius, whose theory of equality is closely related to Condillac’s
doctrine of psychic passivity, is given even shorter shrift, receiving
only a column and a third; and it is noted that “there is no doubt that
his thinking was unsystematic.” Diderot, however, fares much better,
receiving five columns of biography. But then, more and more “did Diderot
turn for the hope of the race to virtue; in other words, to such a
regulation of conduct and motive as shall make us tender, pitiful,
simple, contented,”—an attitude eminently fitted to “English ways of
thinking”! And Diderot’s one great literary passion, we learn, was
Richardson, the English novelist.

La Mettrie, the atheist, who held no brief for the pious virtues or
for the theological soul so beloved by the British, receives just half
a column of biography in which the facts of his doctrine are set down
more in sorrow than in anger. Von Holbach, the German-Parisian prophet
of earthly happiness, who denied the existence of a deity and believed
that the soul became extinct at physical death, receives only a little
more space than La Mettrie—less than a column. But then, the uprightness
of Von Holbach’s character “won the friendship of many to whom his
philosophy was repugnant.”

Montesquieu, however, is given five columns with liberal praise—both
space and eulogy being beyond his deserts. Perhaps an explanation of such
generosity lies in this sentence which we quote from his biography: “It
is not only that he is an Anglo-maniac, but that he is rather English
than French in style and thought.”

Rousseau, on the other hand, possessed no such exalted qualities; and
the biography of this great Frenchman is shorter than Adam Smith’s and
only a little longer than that of the English divine, Joseph Butler!
The _Britannica_ informs us that Rousseau’s moral character was weak
and that he did not stand very high as a man. Furthermore, he was not a
philosopher; the essence of his religion was sentimentalism; and during
the last ten or fifteen years of his life he was not sane. If you wish to
see how unjust and biased is this moral denunciation of Rousseau, turn
to any unprejudiced history of philosophy, and compare the serious and
lengthy consideration given him, with the consideration given the English
moral thinkers who prove such great favorites with the _Britannica’s_
editors.

The German “philosophers of the enlightenment” are given even less
consideration. Christian Wolff, whose philosophy admittedly held almost
undisputed sway in Germany till eclipsed by Kantianism, receives only a
column-and-a-half biography, only half the space given to Samuel Clarke,
the English theological writer, and equal space with John Norris, the
English philosophical divine, and with Arthur Collier, the English High
Church theologian. Even Anthony Collins, the English deist, receives
nearly as long a biography. Moses Mendelssohn draws only two and a half
columns; Crusius, only half a column; Lambert, only a little over
three-fourths of a column; Reimarus, only a column and a third, in which
he is considered from the standpoint of the English deists; and Edelmann
and Tetens have no biographies whatever!

Kant, as I have noted, receives less biographical space than Isaac
Newton, and only about a fifth more space than does either John Locke or
Hume. It is unnecessary to indicate here the prejudice shown by these
comparisons. Every one is cognizant of Kant’s tremendous importance in
the history of thought, and knows what relative consideration should
be given him in a work like the _Britannica_. Hamann, “the wise man of
the North,” who was the foremost of Kant’s opponents, receives only a
column-and-a-quarter biography, in which he is denounced. His writings,
to one not acquainted with the man, must be “entirely unintelligible
and, from their peculiar, pietistic tone and scriptural jargon, probably
offensive.” And he expressed himself in “uncouth, barbarous fashion.”
Herder, however, another and lesser opponent of Kantianism, receives
four and a half columns. Jacobi receives three; Reinhold, half a column;
Maimon, two-thirds of a column; and Schiller, four and a half columns.
Compare these allotments of space with: Thomas Hill Green, the English
neo-Kantian, two and two-thirds columns; Richard Price, a column and
three-fourths; Martineau, the English philosophic divine, five columns;
Ralph Cudworth, two columns; and Joseph Butler, six and a half columns!

In the treatment of German philosophic romanticism the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ is curiously prejudiced. The particular philosophers of
this school—especially the ones with speculative systems—who had a
deep and wide influence on English thought, are treated with adequate
liberality. But the later idealistic thinkers, who substituted criticism
for speculation, receive scant attention, and in several instances are
omitted entirely. For English readers such a disproportioned and purely
national attitude may be adequate, since England’s intellectualism is,
in the main, insular. But, it must be remembered, the _Britannica_ has
assumed the character of an American institution; and, to date, this
country has not quite reached that state of British complacency where it
chooses to ignore _all_ information save that which is narrowly relative
to English culture. Some of us are still un-British enough to want an
encyclopædia of universal information. The _Britannica_ is not such
a reference work, and the manner in which it deals with the romantic
philosophers furnishes ample substantiation of this fact.

Fichte, for instance, whose philosophy embodies a moral idealism
eminently acceptable to “English ways of thinking,” receives seven
columns of biography. Schelling, whose ideas were tainted with mythical
mysticism, but who was not an evolutionist in the modern sense of the
word, receives five columns. Hegel, who was, in a sense, the great
English philosophical idol and whose doctrines had a greater influence
in Great Britain than those of any other thinker, is given no less
than fifteen columns, twice the space that is given to Rousseau, and
five-sixths of the space that is given to Kant! Even Schleiermacher is
given almost equal space with Rousseau, and his philosophy is interpreted
as an effort “to reconcile science and philosophy with religion and
theology, and the modern world with the Christian church.” Also, the
focus of his thought, culture and life, we are told, “was religion and
theology.”

Schopenhauer is one of the few foreign philosophers who receive adequate
treatment in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. But Boström, in whose works
the romantic school attained its systematic culmination, receives just
twenty-four lines, less space than is devoted to Abraham Tucker, the
English moralist, or to Garth Wilkinson, the English Swedenborgian;
and about the same amount of space as is given to John Morell, the
English Congregationalist minister who turned philosopher. And Frederick
Christian Sibbern receives no biography whatever!

Kierkegaard, whose influence in the North has been profound, receives
only half a column, equal space with Andrew Baxter, the feeble Scottish
metaphysician; and only half the space given to Thomas Brown, another
Scotch “philosopher.” Fries who, with Herbart, was the forerunner of
modern psychology and one of the leading representatives of the critical
philosophy, is given just one column; but Beneke, a follower of Fries,
who approached more closely to the English school, is allotted twice the
amount of space that Fries receives.

The four men who marked the dissolution of the Hegelian school—Krause,
Weisse, I. H. Fichte and Feuerbach—receive as the sum total of all
their biographies less space than is given to the English divine, James
Martineau, or to Francis Hutcheson. (In combating Hegelianism these
four thinkers invaded the precincts of British admiration.) In the
one-column biography of Krause we are told that the spirit of his thought
is difficult to follow and that his terminology is artificial. Weisse
receives only twenty-three lines; and I. H. Fichte, the son of J. G.
Fichte, receives only two-thirds of a column. Feuerbach, who marked the
transition between romanticism and positivism and who accordingly holds
an important position in the evolution of modern thought, is accorded a
biography of a column and a half, shorter than that of Richard Price.
Feuerbach, however, unlike Price, was an anti-theological philosopher,
and is severely criticised for his spiritual shortcomings.

Let us glance quickly at the important philosophers of positivism
as represented in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. At the end of the
seventeenth and at the beginning of the nineteenth centuries the
principal French philosophers representative of schools were de Maistre,
Maine de Biran, Ampère, Saint-Simon and Victor Cousin. De Maistre,
the most important philosopher of the principle of authority, is
given a biography of a column and a third, is highly praised for his
ecclesiasticism, and is permitted to be ranked with Hobbes. Maine de
Biran receives a little over a column; Ampère, less than a column; and
Saint-Simon, two and a third columns.

Victor Cousin is given the astonishing amount of space of eleven columns;
but just why he should have been treated in this extravagant manner
is not clear, for we are told that his search for principles was not
profound and that he “left no distinctive, permanent principles of
philosophy.” Nor does it seem possible that he should draw nearly as
much space as Rousseau and Montesquieu combined simply because he left
behind interesting analyses and expositions of the work of Locke and the
Scottish philosophers. Even Comte is given only four and a half columns
more.

The English philosophers of the nineteenth century before John Stuart
Mill are awarded space far in excess of their importance, comparatively
speaking. For instance, James Mill receives two columns of biography;
Coleridge, who “did much to deepen and liberalize Christian thought in
England,” five and three-fourths columns; Carlyle, nine and two-thirds
columns; William Hamilton, two and three-fourths columns; Henry Mansel, a
disciple of Hamilton’s, two-thirds of a column; Whewell, over a column;
and Bentham, over three and a half columns.

Bentham’s doctrines “have become so far part of the common thought of
the time, that there is hardly an educated man who does not accept as
too clear for argument truths which were invisible till Bentham pointed
them out.... The services rendered by Bentham to the world would not,
however, be exhausted even by the practical adoption of every one of
his recommendations. There are no limits to the good results of his
introduction of a true method of reasoning into the moral and political
sciences.” John Stuart Mill, whose philosophy is “generally spoken of
as being typically English,” receives nine and a half columns; Charles
Darwin, seven columns; and Herbert Spencer, over five.

Positivism in Germany is represented by Dühring in a biography which
is only three-fourths of a column in length—an article which is merely
an attack, both personal and general. “His patriotism,” we learn, “is
fervent, but narrow and exclusive.” (Dühring idolized Frederick the
Great.) Ardigò, the important Italian positivist, receives no mention
whatever in the Encyclopædia, although in almost any adequate history of
modern philosophy, even a brief one, you will find a discussion of his
work.

With the exception of Lotze, the philosophers of the new idealism receive
scant treatment in the _Britannica_. Hartmann and Fechner are accorded
only one column each; and Wilhelm Wundt, whose æsthetic and psychological
researches outstrip even his significant philosophical work, is accorded
only half a column! Francis Herbert Bradley has no biography—a curious
oversight, since he is English; and Fouillée receives only a little over
half a column.

The most inadequate and prejudiced treatment in the _Britannica_ of any
modern philosopher is to be found in the biography of Nietzsche, which
is briefer than Mrs. Humphry Ward’s! Not only is Nietzsche accorded
less space than is given to such British philosophical writers as
Dugald Stewart, Henry Sidgwick, Richard Price, John Norris, Thomas Hill
Green, James Frederick Ferrier, Adam Ferguson, Ralph Cudworth, Anthony
Collins, Arthur Collier, Samuel Clarke and Alexander Bain—an absurd and
stupid piece of narrow provincial prejudice—but the biography itself is
superficial and inaccurate. The supposed doctrine of Nietzsche is here
used to expose the personal opinions of the tutor of Corpus Christi
College who was assigned the task of interpreting Nietzsche to the
readers of the _Britannica_. It would be impossible to gather any clear
or adequate idea of Nietzsche and his work from this biased and moral
source. Here middle-class British insularity reaches its high-water mark.

Other important modern thinkers, however, are given but little better
treatment. Lange receives only three-fourths of a column; Paulsen, less
than half a column; Ernst Mach, only seventeen lines; Eucken, only
twenty-eight lines, with a list of his works; and Renouvier, two-thirds
of a column. J. C. Maxwell, though, the Cambridge professor, gets two
columns—twice the space given Nietzsche!

In the biography of William James we discern once more the contempt
which England has for this country. Here is a man whose importance is
unquestioned even in Europe, and who stands out as one of the significant
figures in modern thought; yet the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, that
“supreme book of knowledge,” gives him a biography of just twenty-eight
lines! And it is Americans who are furnishing the profits for this
English reference work!

Perhaps the British editors of this encyclopædia think that we should
feel greatly complimented at having William James admitted at all when
so many other important moderns of Germany and France and America are
excluded. But so long as unimportant English philosophical writers are
given biographies, we have a right to expect, in a work which calls
itself an “international dictionary of biography,” the adequate inclusion
of the more deserving philosophers of other nations.

But what do we actually find? You may hunt the _Encyclopædia Britannica_
through, yet you will not see the names of John Dewey and Stanley Hall
mentioned! John Dewey, an American, is perhaps the world’s leading
authority on the philosophy of education; but the British editors of
the Encyclopædia do not consider him worth noting, even in a casual way.
Furthermore, Stanley Hall, another American, who stands in the front
rank of the world’s genetic psychologists, is not so much as mentioned.
And yet Hall’s great work, _Adolescence_, appeared five years before the
_Britannica_ went to press! Nor has Josiah Royce a biography, despite
the fact that he was one of the leaders in the philosophical thought of
America, and was even made an LL.D. by Aberdeen University in 1900. These
omissions furnish excellent examples of the kind of broad and universal
culture which is supposed to be embodied in the _Britannica_.

But these are by no means all the omissions of the world’s important
modern thinkers. Incredible as it may seem, there is no biography of
Hermann Cohen, who elaborated the rationalistic elements in Kant’s
philosophy; of Alois Riehl, the positivist neo-Kantian; of Windelband
and Rickert, whose contributions to the theory of eternal values in
criticism are of decided significance to-day; of Freud, a man who has
revolutionized modern psychology and philosophic determinism; of Amiel
Boutroux, the modern French philosopher of discontinuity; of Henri
Bergson, whose influence and popularity need no exposition here; of
Guyau, one of the most effective critics of English utilitarianism and
evolutionism; or of Jung.

When we add Roberto Ardigò, Weininger, Edelmann, Tetans, and Sibbern
to this list of philosophic and psychologic writers who are not
considered of sufficient importance to receive biographical mention in
the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, we have, at a glance, the prejudicial
inadequacy and incompleteness of this “great” English reference work.
Nor can any excuse be offered that the works of these men appeared after
the _Britannica_ was printed. At the time it went to press even the most
modern of these writers held a position of sufficient significance or
note to have been included.

In closing, and by way of contrast, let me set down some of the modern
British philosophical writers who are given liberal biographies; Robert
Adamson, the Scottish critical historian of philosophy; Alexander Bain;
Edward and John Caird, Scottish philosophic divines; Harry Calderwood,
whose work was based on the contention that fate implies knowledge and
on the doctrine of divine sanction; David George Ritchie, an unimportant
Scotch thinker; Henry Sidgwick, an orthodox religionist and one of the
founders of the Society for Psychical Research; James H. Stirling, an
expounder of Hegel and Kant; William Wallace, an interpreter of Hegel;
and Garth Wilkinson, the Swedenborgian homeopath.

Such is the brief record of the manner in which the world’s modern
philosophers are treated in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. From this work
hundreds of thousands of Americans are garnering their educational ideas.



XI

RELIGION


Throughout several of the foregoing chapters I have laid considerable
emphasis on the narrow parochial attitude of the _Britannica’s_ editors
and on the constant intrusion of England’s middle-class Presbyterianism
into nearly every branch of æsthetics. The _Britannica_, far from being
the objective and unbiased work it claims to be, assumes a personal
and prejudiced attitude, and the culture of the world is colored and
tinctured by that viewpoint. It would appear self-obvious to say
that the subject of religion in any encyclopædia whose aim is to be
universal, should be limited to the articles on religious matters. But
in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ this is not the case. As I have shown,
those great artists and thinkers who do not fall within the range of
_bourgeois_ England’s suburban morality, are neglected, disparaged, or
omitted entirely.

Not only patriotic prejudice, but evangelical prejudice as well,
characterizes this encyclopædia’s treatment of the world’s great
achievements; and nowhere does this latter bias exhibit itself more
unmistakably than in the articles relating to Catholicism. The trickery,
the manifest ignorance, the contemptuous arrogance, the inaccuracies, the
venom, and the half-truths which are encountered in the discussion of the
Catholic Church and its history almost pass the bounds of credibility.
The wanton prejudice exhibited in this department of the _Britannica_
cannot fail to find resentment even in non-Catholics, like myself; and
for scholars, either in or out of the Church, this encyclopædia, as a
source of information, is not only worthless but grossly misleading.

The true facts relating to the inclusion of this encyclopædia’s article
on Catholicism, as showing the arrogant and unscholarly attitude of
the editors, are as interesting to those outside of the Church as to
Catholics themselves. And it is for the reason that these articles are
typical of a great many of the Encyclopædia’s discussions of culture in
general that I call attention both to the misinformation contained in
them and to the amazing refusal of the _Britannica’s_ editors to correct
the errors when called to their attention at a time when correction
was possible. The treatment of the Catholic Church by the _Britannica_
is quite in keeping with its treatment of other important subjects,
and it emphasizes, perhaps better than any other topic, not only the
Encyclopædia’s petty bias and incompleteness, but the indefensible and
mendacious advertising by which this set of books was foisted upon the
American public. And it also gives direct and irrefutable substantiation
to my accusation that the spirit of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ is
closely allied to the provincial religious doctrines of the British
_bourgeoisie_; and that therefore it is a work of the most questionable
value.

Over five years ago T. J. Campbell, S. J., in _The Catholic Mind_, wrote
an article entitled _The Truth About the Encyclopædia Britannica_—an
article which, from the standpoint of an authority, exposed the utter
unreliability of this Encyclopædia’s discussion of Catholicism. The
article is too long to quote here, but enough of it will be given to
reveal the inadequacy of the _Britannica_ as a source of accurate
information. “The _Encyclopædia Britannica_,” the article begins, “has
taken an unfair advantage of the public. By issuing all its volumes
simultaneously it prevented any protests against misstatements until the
whole harm was done. Henceforth prudent people will be less eager to put
faith in prospectuses and promises. The volumes were delivered in two
installments a couple of months apart. The article _Catholic Church_,
in which the animus of the Encyclopædia might have been detected, should
naturally have been in the first set. It was adroitly relegated to the
end of the second set, under the caption _Roman Catholic Church_.

“It had been intimated to us that the Encyclopædia’s account of the
Jesuits was particularly offensive. That is our excuse for considering it
first. Turning to it we found that the same old battered scarecrow had
been set up. The article covers ten and a half large, double-columned,
closely-printed pages, and requires more than an hour in its perusal.
After reading it two or three times we closed the book with amazement,
not at the calumnies with which the article teems and to which custom
has made us callous, but at the lack of good judgment, of accurate
scholarship, of common information, and business tact which it reveals in
those who are responsible for its publication.

“It ought to be supposed that the subscribers to this costly encyclopædia
had a right to expect in the discussion of all the questions presented
an absolute or quasi-absolute freedom from partisan bias, a sincere and
genuine presentation of all the results of the most modern research, a
positive exclusion of all second-hand and discredited matter, and a
scrupulous adherence to historical truth. In the article in question all
these essential conditions are woefully lacking.

“Encyclopædias of any pretence take especial pride in the perfection and
completeness of their bibliographies. It is a stamp of scholarship and
a guarantee of the thoroughness and reliability of the article, which
is supposed to be an extract and a digest of all that has been said or
written on the subject. The bibliography annexed to the article on the
_Jesuits_, is not only deplorably meagre, but hopelessly antiquated.
Thus, for instance, only three works of the present century are quoted;
one of them apparently for no reason whatever, viz.: _The History of
the Jesuits of North America_, in three volumes, by Thomas Hughes, S.
J., for, as far as we are able to see, the Encyclopædia article makes
no mention of their being with Lord Baltimore in Maryland, or of the
preceding troubles of the Jesuits in England, which were considered
important enough for a monumental work, but evidently not for a compiler
of the Encyclopædia. Again, the nine words, ‘laboring amongst the Hurons
and Iroquois of North America,’ form the sum total of all the information
vouchsafed us about the great missions of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, though we are referred to the seventy-three volumes of
Thwaites’ edition of the _Jesuits Relations_. Had the author or editor
even glanced at these books he might have seen that besides the Huron
and Iroquois missions, which were very brief in point of time and very
restricted in their territorial limitations, the Jesuit missions with the
Algonquins extended from Newfoundland to Alaska, and are still continued;
he would have found that most of the ethnological, religious, linguistic
and geographical knowledge we have of aboriginal North America comes
from those _Jesuit Relations_; and possibly without much research the
sluggish reader would have met with a certain inconspicuous Marquette;
but as Englishmen, up to the Civil War, are said to have imagined that
the Mississippi was the dividing line between the North and South, the
value of the epoch-making discovery of the great river never entered this
slow foreigner’s mind. Nor is there any reference to the gigantic labors
of the Jesuits in Mexico; but perhaps Mexico is not considered to be in
North America.

“Nor is there in this bibliography any mention of the _Monumenta
Historica Societatis Jesu_, nor of the _Monumenta Pædagogica_,
nor is there any allusion to the great and learned works of Duhr,
Tacchi-Venturi, Fouqueray, and Kroes, which have just been published
and are mines of information on the history of the Society in Spain,
Germany, Italy and France; and although we are told of the _Historia
Societatis Jesu_ by Orlandini, which bears the very remote imprint of
1620, is very difficult to obtain, and covers a very restricted period,
there is apparently no knowledge of the classic work of Jouvency, nor
is Sacchini cited, nor Polanco. The _Bibliothèque des écrivains de la
Compagnie de Jésus_, by De Backer, not ‘Backer,’ as the Encyclopædia
has it, is listed; but it is simply shocking to find that there was no
knowledge of Sommervogel, who is the continuator of De Backer, and who
has left us a most scholarly and splendid work which is brought down to
our own times, and for which De Backer’s, notable though it be, was only
a preparation. In brief, the bibliography is absolutely worthless, not
only for a scholar, but even for the average reader.

“On the other hand it is quite in keeping with the character of the
writers who were chosen for the article. The New York _Evening Post_
informs us that before 1880, when a search for a suitable scribe for the
Jesuit article was instituted, some one started on a hunt for Cardinal
Newman, but the great man had no time. Then he thought of Manning, who,
of course, declined, and finally knowing no other ‘Jesuit’ he gave the
work to Littledale. Littledale, as everyone knows, was an Anglican
minister, notorious not only for his antagonism to the Jesuits, but also
to the Catholic Church. He gladly addressed himself to the task, and
forthwith informed the world that ‘the Jesuits controlled the policy of
Spain’; that ‘it was a matter of common knowledge that they kindled the
Franco-Prussian war of 1870’; that ‘Pope Julius II dispensed the Father
General from his vow of poverty,’ though that warrior Pope expired eight
years before Ignatius sought the solitude of Manresa, and had as yet no
idea of a Society of Jesus; again, that ‘the Jesuits from the beginning
never obeyed the Pope’; that ‘in their moral teaching they can attenuate
and even defend any kind of sin’; and, finally, not to be too prolix in
this list of absurdities, that, prior to the Vatican Council, ‘they had
filled up all the sees of Latin Christendom with bishops of their own
selection.’

“It is true that only the last mentioned charge appears in the present
edition, and it is a fortunate concession for Littledale’s suffering
victims; for if ‘there are no great intellects among the Jesuits,’ and
if they are only a set of ‘respectable mediocrities,’ as this ‘revised’
article tells us, they can point with pride to this feat which makes a
dozen Franco-Prussian wars pale into insignificance alongside it. We
doubt, however, if the 700 prelates who sat in the Vatican Council would
accept that explanation of their promotion in the prelacy; and we feel
certain that Cardinal Manning, who was one of the great figures in that
assembly, would resent it, at least if it be true, as the Encyclopædia
assures us, that he considered the suppression of the Society in 1773 to
be the work of God, and was sure that another 1773 was coming.

“The wonder is that a writer who can be guilty of such absurdities
should, after twenty years, be summoned from the dead as a witness to
anything at all. But on the other hand it is not surprising when we see
that the Rev. Ethelred Taunton, who is also dead and buried, should be
made his yoke-fellow in ploughing over this old field, to sow again these
poisonous weeds. There are many post-mortems in the Encyclopædia. Had the
careless editors of the Encyclopædia consulted Usher’s _Reconstruction
of the English Church_, they would have found Taunton described as an
author ‘who makes considerable parade of the amount of his research, but
has not gone very far and has added little, if anything, to what we knew
before. As a whole, his book on _The History of the Jesuits in England_
is uncritical and prejudiced.’

“Such is the authority the Encyclopædia appeals to for information. That
is bad enough, but in the list of authors Taunton is actually described
as a ‘Jesuit.’ Possibly it is one of the punishments the Almighty has
meted out to him for his misuse of the pen while on earth. But he never
did half the harm to the Jesuits by his ill-natured assaults as he has
to the Encyclopædia in being mistaken for an ‘S. J.’; for although there
are some people who will believe anything an encyclopædia tells them,
there are others who are not so meek and who will be moved to inquire
how, if the editor of this publication is so lamentably ignorant of the
personality and antecedents of his contributors, he can vouch for the
reliability of what newspaper men very properly call the stuff that comes
into the office. We are not told who revised the writings of those two
dead men, one of whom departed this life twenty, the other four years
ago; and we have to be satisfied with a posthumous and prejudiced and
partly anonymous account of a great Order, about which many important
books have been written since the demise of the original calumniators,
and with which apparently the unknown reviser is unacquainted.

“It may interest the public to know that many of these errors were
pointed out to the managers of the Encyclopædia at their New York office
when the matter was still in page proof and could have been corrected.
Evidently it was not thought worth while to pay any attention to the
protest.

“It is true that in the minds of some of their enemies, especially in
certain parts of the habitable globe, Catholics have no right to resent
anything that is said of their practices and beliefs, no matter how
false or grotesque such statements may be; and, consequently, we are
not surprised at the assumption by the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ of
its usual contemptuous attitude. Thus, for instance, on turning to the
articles _Casuistry_ and _Roman Catholic Church_ we find them signed
‘St. C.’ Naturally and supernaturally to be under the guidance of a
Saint C. or a Saint D. always inspires confidence in a Catholic; but
this ‘St. C.’ turns out to be only the Viscount St. Cyres, a scion of
the noble house of Sir Stafford Northcote, the one time leader of the
House of Commons, who died in 1887. In the Viscount’s ancestral tree we
notice that Sir Henry Stafford Northcote, first Baronet, has appended
to his name the title ‘Prov. Master of Devonshire Freemasons.’ What
‘Prov.’ means we do not know, but we are satisfied with the remaining
part of the description. The Viscount was educated at Eton, and Merton
College, Oxford. He is a layman and a clubman, and as far as we know is
not suspected of being a Catholic. A search in the ‘Who’s Who?’ failed to
reveal anything on that point, though a glance at the articles over his
name will dispense us from any worry about his religious status.

“We naturally ask why he should have been chosen to enlighten the world
on Catholic topics? ‘Because,’ says the editor of the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_, ‘the Viscount St. Cyres has probably more knowledge of the
development of theology in the Roman Catholic Church than any other
person in that Church.’

“The Church was unaware that it had at its disposal such a source of
information. It will be news to many, but we are inclined to ask how the
Viscount acquired that marvelous knowledge. It would require a life-long
absorption in the study of divinity quite incompatible with the social
duties of one of his station. Furthermore, we should like to know whence
comes the competency of the editor to decide on the ability of the
Viscount, and to pass judgment on the correctness of his contribution?
That also supposes an adequate knowledge of all that the dogmatic, moral
and mystic theologians ever wrote, a life-long training in the language
and methods of the science, and a special intellectual aptitude to
comprehend the sublime speculations of the Church’s divines.

“It will not be unkind to deny him such qualifications, especially now,
for did he not tell his friends at the London banquet: ‘During all these
(seven) years I have been busy in the blacksmith’s shop (of the editor’s
room) and I do not hear the noise that is made by the hammers all around
me’—nor, it might be added, does he hear what is going on outside the
_Britannica’s_ forge.

“Meantime, we bespeak the attention of all the Catholic theologians in
every part of the world to the preposterous invitation to come to hear
the last word about ‘the development of theology’ in the Catholic Church
from a scholar whose claim to theological distinction is that ‘he has
written about Fénélon and Pascal.’ The _Britannica_ shows scant respect
to Catholic scholarship and Catholic intelligence.”

Father Campbell then devotes several pages to a specific indictment of
the misstatements and the glaring errors to be found in several of the
articles relating to the Catholic Church. He quotes eight instances of
St. Cyres’ inaccurate and personal accusations, and also many passages
from the articles on _Papacy_, _Celibacy_ and _St. Catherine of
Siena_—passages which show the low and biased standard of scholarship by
which they were written. The injustice contained in them is obvious even
to a superficial student of history. At the close of these quotations
he accuses the _Britannica_ of being neither up-to-date, fair, nor
well-informed. “It repeats old calumnies that have been a thousand times
refuted, and it persistently selects the Church’s enemies who hold her
up to ridicule and contempt. We are sorry for those who have been lavish
in their praises of a book which is so defective, so prejudiced, so
misleading and so insulting.”

It seems that while the _Britannica’s_ contributions to the general
misinformation of the world were being discussed, the editor wrote to one
of his subscribers saying that the Catholics were very much vexed because
the article on the Jesuits was not “sufficiently eulogistic.”

“He is evidently unaware,” Father Campbell goes on to comment, “that the
Society of Jesus is sufficiently known both in the Church and the world
not to need a monument in the graveyard of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_.
Not the humblest Brother in the Order expected anything but calumny and
abuse when he saw appended to the article the initials of the well-known
assassins of the Society’s reputation. Not one was surprised, much less
displeased, at the absence of eulogy, sufficient or otherwise; but,
on the contrary, they were all amazed to find the loudly trumpeted
commercial enterprise, which had been so persistently clamorous of its
possession of the most recent results of research in every department of
learning, endeavoring to palm off on the public such shopworn travesties
of historical and religious truth. The editor is mistaken if he thinks
they pouted. Old and scarred veterans are averse to being patted on the
back by their enemies.

“It is not, however, the ill-judged gibe that compels us to revert to the
Society, as much as the suspicion that the editor of the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ seems to fancy that we had nothing to say beyond calling
attention to his dilapidated bibliography, which he labels with the very
offensive title of ‘the bibliography of _Jesuitism_’—a term which is as
incorrect as it is insulting—or that we merely objected to the employment
of two dead and discredited witnesses to tell the world what kind of an
organization the Society is.

“It may be, moreover, that we misjudged a certain portion of the reading
public in treating the subject so lightly, and as the Encyclopædia is
continually reiterating the assertion that it has no ‘bias’ and that its
statement of facts is purely ‘objective,’ a few concrete examples of the
opposite kind of treatment—the one commonly employed—may not be out of
place.

“We are told, for instance, that ‘the Jesuits had their share, direct or
indirect, in the embroiling of States, in concocting conspiracies and in
kindling wars. They were responsible by their theoretical teachings in
theological schools for not a few assassinations’ (340). ‘They powerfully
aided the revolution which placed the Duke of Braganza on the throne of
Portugal, and their services were rewarded with the practical control of
ecclesiastical and almost civil affairs in that kingdom for nearly one
hundred years’ (344). ‘Their war against the Jansenists did not cease
till the very walls of Port Royal were demolished in 1710, even to the
very abbey church itself, and the bodies of the dead taken with every
mark of insult from their graves and literally flung to the dogs to
devour’ (345). ‘In Japan the Jesuits died with their converts bravely
as martyrs to the Faith, yet it is impossible to acquit them of a large
share of the causes of that overthrow’ (345). ‘It was about the same time
that the grave scandal of the Chinese and Malabar rites began to attract
attention in Europe and to make thinking men ask seriously whether the
Jesuit missionaries in those parts taught anything which could fairly be
called Christianity at all’ (348). ‘The political schemings of Parsons
in England was an object lesson to the rest of Europe of a restless
ambition and a lust of domination which were to find many imitators’
(348). ‘The General of the Order drove away six thousand exiled Jesuit
priests from the coast of Italy, and made them pass several months of
suffering on crowded vessels at sea to increase public sympathy, but the
actual result was blame for the cruelty with which he had enhanced their
misfortunes’ (346). ‘Clement XIV, who suppressed them, is said to have
died of poison, but Tanucci and two others entirely acquit the Jesuits.’
‘They are accountable in no small degree in France, as in England, for
alienating the minds of men from the religion for which they professed to
work’ (345).

“Very little of this can be characterized as ‘eulogistic,’ especially
as interwoven in the story are malignant insinuations, incomplete and
distorted statements, suppressions of truth, gross errors of fact, and
a continual injection of personal venom which makes the argument not
an ‘unbiased and objective presentment’ of the case, but the plea of a
prejudiced prosecuting and persecuting attorney endeavoring by false
testimony to convict before the bar of public opinion an alleged culprit,
whose destruction he is trying to accomplish with an uncanny sort of
delight.”

After having adduced a long list of instances which “reveal the rancor
and ignorance of many of the writers hired by the Encyclopædia,” the
article then points out “the fundamental untruthfulness” on which the
_Britannica_ is built. In a letter written by the Encyclopædia’s editor
appears the following specious explanation: “Extreme care was taken by
the editors, and especially by the editor responsible for the theological
side of the work, that every subject, either directly or indirectly
concerned with religion, should as far as possible be objective and not
subjective in _their_ presentation. The majority of the articles on the
various Churches and their beliefs were written by members within the
several communions, and, if not so written, were submitted to those most
competent to judge, for criticism and, if need be, correction.”

Father Campbell in his answer to this letter says: “Without animadverting
on the peculiar use of the English language by the learned English editor
who tells us that ‘_every_ subject’ should be ‘objective’ in _their_
presentation, we do not hesitate to challenge absolutely the assertion
that ‘the majority of the articles on the various Churches were written
by members within the several communions, and if not so written were
submitted to those most competent to judge, for criticism and, if need
be, for correction.’ Such a pretence is simply amazing, and thoroughly
perplexed, we asked: What are we supposed to understand when we are
informed that ‘the _majority_ of the articles on the various Churches and
their beliefs were written by members within the several communions’?

“Was the article on _The Roman Catholic Church_ written by a Catholic?
Was the individual who accumulated and put into print all those vile
aspersions on the Popes, the saints, the sacraments, the doctrines of the
Church, a Catholic? Were the other articles on _Casuistry_, _Celibacy_,
_St. Catherine of Siena_, and _Mary_, the mother of Jesus, written by a
Catholic? The supposition is simply inconceivable, and it calls for more
than the unlimited assurance of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ to compel
us to accept it.

“But ‘they were submitted to the most competent judge for criticism and,
if need be, correction.’ Were they submitted to any judge at all, or to
any man of sense, before they were sent off to be printed and scattered
throughout the English speaking world? Is it permissible to imagine for
a moment that any Catholic could have read some of those pages and not
have been filled with horror at the multiplied and studied insults to
everything he holds most sacred in his religion? Or did ‘the editor
responsible for the theological side of the work’ reserve for himself the
right to reject or accept whatever recommended itself to his superior
judgment?”

The article then points out that “far from being just to Catholics, the
_Britannica_ pointedly and persistently discriminated against them.”
The article on the Episcopalians was assigned to the Rev. Dr. D. D.
Addison, Rector of All Saints, Brookline, Mass.; that on Methodists to
the Rev. Dr. J. M. Buckley, Editor of the _Christian Advocate_, New
York; that on the Baptists to the Rev. Newton Herbert Marshall, Baptist
Church, Hampstead, England; that on the Jews to Israel Abrahams, formerly
President of the Jewish Historical Society and now Reader on Talmudic
and Rabbinic Literature in Cambridge, and so on for the Presbyterians,
Unitarians, Lutherans, etc. But in the case of the Catholic Church not
only its history but its theology was given to a critic who was neither
a theologian, nor a cleric, nor even a Catholic, and who, as Father
Campbell notes, is not known outside of his little London coterie.

The _Britannica’s_ editor also apologized for his encyclopædia by
stating that “Father Braun, S. J., has _assisted_ us in our article on
_Vestments_, and that Father Delehaye, S. J., has contributed, among
other articles, those on _The Bollandists and Canonization_. Abbé
Boudinhon and Mgr. Duchesne, and Luchaire and Ludwig von Pastor and Dr.
Kraus have also contributed, and Abbot Butler, O. S. B., has written on
the Augustinians, Benedictines, Carthusians, Cistercians, Dominicans and
Franciscans”; and, finally: “The new _Britannica_ has had the honor of
having as a contributor His Eminence James Cardinal Gibbons, Archbishop
of Baltimore, who has written of the Roman Catholic Church in America.”

“But, after all,” answers Father Campbell, “it was not a very generous
concession to let Father Joseph Braun, S. J., _Staatsexamen als
Religionsoberlehren für Gymnasien_, University of Bonn, _assist_
the editors in the very safe article on _Vestments_, nor to let the
Bollandists write a column on their publication, which has been going
on for three or four hundred years. The list of those who wrote on the
_Papacy_ is no doubt respectable in ability if not in number, but we note
that the editor is careful to say that the writers of that article were
‘_principally_’ Roman Catholics.

“Again we are moved to ask why should a Benedictine, distinguished though
he be, have assigned to him the history of the Augustinians, Franciscans,
Dominicans, etc.? Were there no men in those great and learned orders to
tell what they must have known better than even the erudite Benedictine?
Nor will it avail to tell us that His Eminence of Baltimore wrote
_The History of the Roman Catholic Church in the United States_, when
that article comprises only a column of statistics, preceded by two
paragraphs, one on the early missions, and the other on the settlement of
Lord Baltimore. No one more than the illustrious and learned churchman
would have resented calling such a mere compilation of figures a _History
of the Catholic Church in the United States_, and no one would be more
shocked than he by the propinquity of his restricted article to the
prolix and shameless one to which it is annexed.”

Here in brief is an account of the “impartial” manner in which
Catholicism is recorded and described in that “supreme” book of
knowledge, the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. And I set down this record
here not because it is exceptional but, to the contrary, because it
is representative of the way in which the world’s culture (outside of
England), and especially the culture of America, is treated.

The intellectual prejudice and contempt of England for America is even
greater if anything than England’s religious prejudice and contempt for
Catholicism; and this fact should be borne in mind when you consult the
_Britannica_ for knowledge. It will not give you even scholarly or
objective information: it will advise you, by constant insinuation and
intimation, as well as by direct statement, that English culture and
achievement represent the transcendent glories of the world, and that
the great men and great accomplishments of other nations are of minor
importance. No more fatal intellectual danger to America can be readily
conceived than this distorted, insular, incomplete, and aggressively
British reference work.



XII

TWO HUNDRED OMISSIONS


The following list contains two hundred of the many hundreds of
writers, painters, musicians and scientists who are denied biographies
in the _Britannica_. There is not a name here which should not be in
an encyclopædia which claims for itself the completeness which the
_Britannica_ claims. Many of the names stand in the forefront of modern
culture. Their omission is nothing short of preposterous, and can be
accounted for only on the grounds of ignorance or prejudice. In either
case, they render the encyclopædia inadequate as an up-to-date and
comprehensive reference work.

It will be noted that not one of these names is English, and that America
has suffered from neglect in a most outrageous fashion. After reading
the flamboyant statements made in the _Encyclopædia Britannica’s_
advertising, glance down this list. Then decide for yourself whether or
not the statements are accurate.

Objection may be raised to some of the following names on the ground
that they are not of sufficient importance to be included in an
encyclopædia, and that their omission cannot be held to the discredit of
the _Britannica_. In answer let me state that for every name listed here
as being denied a biography, there are one or two, and, in the majority
of cases, many, Englishmen in the same field who are admittedly inferior
and yet who are given detailed and generally laudatory biographies.


LITERATURE

    “A. E.” (George W. Russell)
    Andreiev
    Artzibashef
    Hermann Bahr
    Henri Bernstein
    Otto Julius Bierbaum
    Ambrose Bierce
    Helene Böhlau
    Henry Bordeaux
    René Boylesve
    Enrico Butti
    Cammaerts
    Capuana
    Bliss Carman
    Winston Churchill
    Pierre de Coulevain
    Richard Dehmel
    Margaret Deland
    Grazia Deledda
    Theodore Dreiser
    Eekhoud
    Clyde Fitch
    Paul Fort
    Gustav Frenssen
    Fröding
    Fucini (Tanfucio Neri)
    Garshin
    Stefan George
    René de Ghil
    Giacosa
    Ellen Glasgow
    Rémy de Gourmont
    Robert Grant
    Lady Gregory
    Grigorovich
    Hartleben
    Heidenstam
    Hirschfeld
    Hugo von Hofmannsthal
    Arno Holz
    Richard Hovey
    Bronson Howard
    Ricarda Huch
    James Huneker
    Douglas Hyde
    Lionel Johnson
    Karlfeldt
    Charles Klein
    Korolenko
    Kuprin
    Percy MacKaye
    Emilio de Marchi
    Ferdinando Martini
    Stuart Merrill
    William Vaughn Moody
    Nencioni
    Standish O’Grady
    Ompteda
    Panzacchi
    Giovanni Pascoli
    David Graham Phillips
    Wilhelm von Polenz
    Rapisardi
    Edwin Arlington Robinson
    Romain Rolland
    T. W. Rolleston
    Rovetta
    Albert Samain
    George Santayana
    Johannes Schlaf
    Schnitzler
    Severin
    Signoret
    Synge
    John Bannister Tabb
    Tchekhoff
    Gherardi del Testa
    Jérôme and Jean Tharaud
    Ludwig Thoma
    Augustus Thomas
    Tinayre
    Katherine Tynan
    Veressayeff
    Clara Viebig
    Annie Vivanti
    Wackenroder
    Wedekind
    Edith Wharton
    Owen Wister
    Ernst von Wolzogen


PAINTING

    George Bellows
    Carrière
    Mary Cassatt
    Cézanne
    Louis Corinth
    Maurice Denis
    Gauguin
    Habermann
    C. W. Hawthorne
    Robert Henri
    Hodler
    Sergeant Kendall
    Ludwig Knaus
    Krüger
    Jean Paul Laurens
    Leibl
    Von Marées
    René Ménard
    Redon
    Charles Shuch
    Lucien Simon
    Steinlen
    Toulouse-Lautrec
    Trübner
    Twachtman
    Van Gogh
    Vallotton
    Zorn


MUSIC

    d’Albert
    Arensky
    Mrs. Beach
    Busoni
    Buxtehude
    Charpentier
    Frederick Converse
    Cui
    Arthur Foote
    Grechaninov
    Guilmant
    Henry K. Hadley
    Josef Hofmann
    Edgar Stillman Kelly
    Kreisler
    Leschetitzky
    Gustav Mahler
    Marschner
    Nevin
    Nordraak
    John Knowles Paine
    Horatio Parker
    Rachmaninov
    Ravel
    Max Reger
    Nikolaus Rubinstein
    Scharwenka brothers
    Georg Alfred Schumann
    Scriabine
    Sibelius
    Friedrich Silcher
    Sinding
    Taneiev
    Wolf-Ferrari


SCIENCE AND INVENTION

    William Beaumont
    John Shaw Billings
    Luther Burbank
    George W. Crile
    Harvey Cushing
    Rudolph Diesel
    Daniel Drake
    Ehrlich
    Simon Flexner
    W. W. Gerhard
    Samuel David Gross
    William S. Halsted
    Wilhelm His
    Abraham Jacobi
    Rudolph Leuckart
    Franz Leydig
    Jacques Loeb
    Percival Lowell
    Lyonet (Lyonnet)
    S. J. Meltzer
    Metchnikoff
    T. H. Morgan
    Joseph O’Dwyer
    Ramón y Cajal
    Nicholas Senn
    Marion Sims
    Theobald Smith
    W. H. Welch
    Orville Wright
    Wilbur Wright


PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

    Ardigò
    Bergson
    Boutroux
    Hermann Cohen
    John Dewey
    Edelmann
    Freud
    Guyau
    G. Stanley Hall
    Hildebrand
    Jung
    Külpe
    Lipps
    Josiah Royce
    Alois Riehl
    Sibbern
    Soloviov
    Tetans
    Windelband





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