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!