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ORTY years ago, there was a parlour game which the old were fond of inflicting on the young. It consisted of making a list of the ten greatest men, or the six greatest soldiers, or something of the kind. In Creative Spirits of the Nineteenth Century, Brandes gives us what one must suppose is his list of the twelve greatest men of that century. No doubt my readers know all about Paul Heyse, Esaias Tegnér, and Frederick Paludan-Müller, who are three of his "creative spirits." I must confess that I did not, and was surprised to find them in the catalogue, though I have no reason to suppose that they do not deserve their place. There are others in the list, however, against whom I feel more positive—for instance, Garibaldi. No doubt Italian unity was important; without it, we should not have had Fascismo and Mussolini, or d'Annunzio and Fiume, or President Wilson's surrender about Shantung. But the "creative spirit" of Italian unity was Mazzini, not Garibaldi; Garibaldi merely translated Mazzini's thoughts into drama. John Stuart Mill, another of the chosen Twelve, can hardly be called creative. His ideas came from his father and Bentham. Bentham certainly was one of the creative spirits of the Nineteenth Century; fifty years of English politics consisted in carrying out his ideas. Even in the purely literary field, where Brandes might be expected to have a surer touch, he is surprising. Apart from Mill, the only Englishman in his list is Swinburne, by whose death (he says):

"The English-speaking world, one of the largest groups on earth, lost its greatest lyric poet; in fact, the greatest lyric poet that ever wrote the English tongue, when skill and virtuosity are considered."

It is proverbially difficult to judge of poetry in a foreign lan-