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!