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diff --git a/76803-0.txt b/76803-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..71c283b --- /dev/null +++ b/76803-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7708 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76803 *** + + + + + + REGENERATION + + A REPLY TO + MAX NORDAU + + WITH INTRODUCTION BY + + NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER + Professor of Philosophy and Education + in Columbia College in the City of New York + + New York + G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS + London: ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO. + 1896 + + + + + Copyright, 1896 + BY + G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS + + + The Knickerbocker Press, New Rochelle, N. Y. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Max Nordau is perhaps the most daring toreador of recent years. He +challenged Modern Civilization to mortal combat in the presence of +assembled thousands. Had the customs of the Roman arena prevailed, the +thumbs of the interested spectators would doubtless have been extended +or pressed down in about equal numbers, when the huge beast lay +momentarily stunned by his blow. That Nordau had ingeniously tormented +the monster was apparent; had he earned the right to put an end to +its existence? The shrill cries of the excitable and easily moved +predominated for a moment, but they were soon drowned by the insistent +demands of the sober-minded for a calm consideration of the fairness of +the blows that had been struck, as well as of the permissibility of the +weapons that had been used. Yet the contest, whether fair or unfair, +had been exciting; and it was not without its uses. + +It stimulated thought among the habitually unthinking. The habit of +reflective analysis, like letter-writing and other accomplishments that +require much leisure, is slipping away from us under the pressure of +our complex modern life. The newspaper, with its surges of insensate +passion and unreasoned opinion, thinks for large portions of the +community; and its thinking, like the amusements of the nursery, +expresses itself in ways that appeal chiefly to the eye and to the +ear. Information about things is too often mistaken for knowledge of +things. Highly specialized activities on the one hand, and the task of +adjusting our part in the struggle for existence to economic conditions +wholly new in the world’s history, on the other, mark off our +civilization from any that have preceded it. The activities of modern +men are so numerous, so varied, and so interesting, that we often omit +to ask on what principles they are based and whither they are tending. +Apparent success has led us to forget sometimes that all sound practice +has a reason behind it, and reasons are seldom asked for or given. + +To say the least, then, it is somewhat surprising to be stopped on +the street corner and assured, with due emphasis and the appearance +of authority, that nineteenth-century men and women are absorbed in +interests that mark a diseased type of mind, and are given over to a +literature, an art, and a music that, themselves produced by madmen, +are rapidly reducing us all to the mad-house level; in other words, +that we and our boasted civilization are degenerates. + +There is, as I have said, a certain use in this brutal proceeding, for +it causes us to stop and think. It shatters our conceit and shakes our +confidence. If we pause only for a moment, yet pause we must. The mere +daring of the attack forces this. So it has come about that Nordau’s +_Degeneration_, quite apart from its intrinsic merits or demerits, has +been widely read and much talked of throughout the civilized world. It +has provoked some anger, not a little amusement, and a fair measure +of contempt. Yet in a certain subtle way it has set us to examining +the reasons that lead most of us to deny the essential viciousness and +abnormality of some of the most salient and striking characteristics of +contemporary culture. + +If Nordau’s indictment be classed as pessimism, it at least has the +merit of novelty of statement. From Homer’s time to the present poets +and philosophers have not forgotten, even in moments of highest +exaltation, to remind man that his life has a dark and hopeless side. +Our own century has listened to Leopardi, who envied only the dead, +and to Schopenhauer, who called man both the priest and the victim of +nature. And yet we have not been altogether unhappy. + +But Nordau is no ordinary pessimist. He does not lead us to despair +through the by-paths of metaphysical subtlety, nor does he take +advantage of the awful mystery of pain to perplex and distract us. +Rather he drags us into the laboratory and, stretching us on a table +of definitions made for the purpose, proceeds to measure our faces +and our skulls, our teeth, the lobes of our ears, and our palates; +we pay the penalty of our individuality in being found to be “morbid +deviations from an original type,” and are therefore degenerate. Next +comes an examination of a selected group of man’s newer interests. The +music of Wagner, the dramas of Ibsen, the romances of Zola, the art of +the pre-Raphaelites, the mystics, the symbolists, the Parnassians—who +but a “decadent” would treat all these alike?—are passed in review +and pronounced to be proofs of the decadence of mankind even more +conclusive than those based upon physical measurements. All this is +done in the name of Science, which, reversing the procedure of Saturn, +thus hastens to devour the parent that begot it, Modern Civilization. + +A long chapter might be written on the credulity of men of science. +The hypotheses that they have chased out of the door complacently fly +in at the window. Many scientists, fresh from apparently important +discoveries in narrow fields, need to be reminded of the lesson +contained in the legend of St. Augustine, who when walking on the shore +one day, absorbed in meditation, suddenly perceived a child that with +a shell was ladling the sea into a hole in the sand. “What are you +doing, my child?” asked St. Augustine. “I am emptying the ocean,” was +the reply, “into this hole.”—“That is impossible.” “Not more impossible +than for you to empty the universe into your intellect,” said the +child, and vanished. Nordau is particularly prone to regard the small +achievements of a certain school of alienists as having supplied him +with a conclusive test of all excellence. Indeed, no part of his +diatribe is more open to criticism than the use he makes of Science. +If modern science is demonstrating any one thing more clearly than +another, it is that the insights of the seers of our race as to the +highest human aspirations and the deepest needs of the human spirit, +meet not with contradiction but with support as knowledge of the cosmos +becomes more extensive and more accurate. Nordau has neglected to +reckon with the profound truth that finds expression in the celebrated +saying of Lotze: + +“The more I myself have laboured to prepare the way for acceptance of +the mechanical view of Nature in the region of organic life—in which +region this view seemed to advance more timidly than the nature of the +thing required—the more do I now feel impelled to bring into prominence +the other aspect which was equally near to my heart during all these +endeavours.... It is in such mediation [between the two aspects] that +the true source of the life of science is to be found; not indeed in +affirming now a fragment of one view and now a fragment of the other, +but in showing how _absolutely universal is the extent_, and at the +same time how _completely subordinate is the significance, of the +mission which mechanism has to fulfil in the structure of the world_.” + +There is also hidden from Nordau’s view that noble conception of the +place and significance of Science to which Tyndall gave expression in +the eloquent peroration of his Belfast address more than twenty years +ago: + +“Science itself not unfrequently derives motive-power from an +ultra-scientific source. Some of its greatest discoveries have been +made under the stimulus of a non-scientific ideal.... The world +embraces not only a Newton, but a Shakspere—not only a Boyle, but a +Raphael—not only a Kant, but a Beethoven—not only a Darwin, but a +Carlyle. Not in each of these, but in all, is human nature whole. +They are not opposed, but supplementary—not mutually exclusive, but +reconcilable. And if, unsatisfied with them all, the human mind, with +the yearning of a pilgrim for his distant home, will still turn to +the Mystery from which it has emerged, seeking so to fashion it as to +give unity to thought and faith, so long as this is done, not only +without intolerance or bigotry of any kind, but with the enlightened +recognition that ultimate fixity of conception is here unattainable, +and that each succeeding age must be held free to fashion the +mystery in accordance with its own needs—then, casting aside all the +restrictions of Materialism, I would affirm this to be a field for the +noblest exercise of what, in contrast with the knowing faculties, may +be called the creative faculties of man.” + +Why, then, should not literature and art and music enter and occupy +the very field that the apostles of Science assign to them, without +being exposed to the alienists’ sneers for their symbolism and their +mysticism? The truth is that Nordau is the slave of one idea, and that +the logical outcome of his definition and conception of abnormality. +Ribot described such a case perfectly when he said that “nothing is +more common or better known than the momentary appropriation of the +personality by some intense and fixed idea. As long as this idea +occupies consciousness, we may say without exaggeration that it +constitutes the individual.” Degeneration constitutes Nordau. He is +himself an abnormality and a pathological type. Every large hospital +for the insane knows his representative—the one sane man in a world of +lunatics. + +To perceive the true direction and to estimate the relative force of +a large human movement requires a long interval of time. Caught in +an eddy of the moment, we may seem to be drifting backward, when in +reality to the spectator on the shore we are being swept onward with +great rapidity. The same world of experience seemed to Parmenides to +exclude by its very nature all motion, and to Heraclitus to derive its +only reality from its perpetual change. It is the standard and the +point of view that control such judgments, and we are entitled to ask +of any standard or point of view, _Quid juris?_ Nordau, however, has +not asked himself that question. Seizing upon some partially completed +anthropological investigations, with their half-speculative inferences, +he has fashioned for himself a yard-stick with which to measure +civilization. Aristotle long ago pointed out that the true difference +between the poet and the historian is to be found in the fact that the +former relates what may happen, the latter what has happened. One might +similarly distinguish the man of science, who applies what has been +proved, from the charlatan, who seeks to apply what has not been proved. + +As a result of dissenting from Nordau’s premises, method, and +conclusions, it is by no means necessary to be forced to defend all the +phases of modern civilization that he attacks. Some of them, no doubt, +are unwholesome, but for reasons other than those which this critic +adduces. Many of them are mere fleeting phenomena, confined within +the narrowest limits, and the world at large first heard of them from +Nordau’s pages. It is only a lack of humour that can elevate such +traits and tendencies into the position of powerful forces in human +culture, such as Platonism, Humanism, or Christianity. The old Sophist +was right when he commended humour as the test of gravity. + +The author of _Regeneration_ is successful in turning the flank of +Nordau’s attacking forces at more points than one. He is able at times, +without over-exertion, to convict Nordau not only of lack of knowledge, +but of what is far worse—knowledge of things that are not true. His +view of life is more sane and better-balanced than that of Nordau, +despite an anti-Teutonic tendency that perhaps partakes of the nature +of an argument _ad hominem_. The judgment of the average man who knows +the history of the past two centuries will sustain him in holding that +“there are a host of indications in all civilized countries pointing +to an increase in intellectual power, moral strength, and æsthetic +refinement.” Those to whom Lincoln applied the affectionate designation +of “the plain people” have advanced and are advancing by tremendous +strides in knowledge and refinement. They, and not a group or two of +men and women in each of the capitals of Europe, are the real index +to the degeneracy, or the contrary, of modern life. If democracy is +to establish itself more widely and more efficiently as a form of +government, it must rest upon the common sense of the plain people. +So far from being influenced by the tendencies that Nordau exploits +with so much vigour, it is not improbable that even the names of the +representatives of most of those tendencies are unknown to them. +Progress in education, in philanthropy, in commerce and industry, and +in the comforts of life, has developed a seriousness and a sense of +responsibility that have brought into many an English and American face +the lines that distinguished the countenance of the typical Senator +of Rome. The higher altruism of our time believes that life is not +only worth living, but worth working for. Long ago Mr. Herbert Spencer +remarked that the current conception of progress is vague, and that it +is in a great measure erroneous. It takes in, he said, not so much the +reality of progress as its accompaniments—not so much the substance +as the shadow. Nordau, with all of the superficiality, the absence of +any sense of proportion, and the lack of humour that so often mark the +extreme specialist, has hardly come in sight of even the shadow. + + NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER. + + Columbia College, + _January, 1896._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I PAGE + + Who is the Critic? 1 + + CHAPTER II + + Dusk or Dawn! 27 + + CHAPTER III + + Mysticism and the Unknowable 44 + + CHAPTER IV + + The Bankruptcy of Science 73 + + CHAPTER V + + Symbolism and Logic 94 + + CHAPTER VI + + The Light of Russia 108 + + CHAPTER VII + + The Real Ibsen 132 + + CHAPTER VIII + + Richard Wagner 183 + + CHAPTER IX + + The Religion of Self 230 + + CHAPTER X + + An Ethical Inquisition 241 + + CHAPTER XI + + Vigorous Affirmations 258 + + CHAPTER XII + + Regeneration 290 + + + + +REGENERATION + + + + +CHAPTER I + +_WHO IS THE CRITIC?_ + + +Voltaire said that if all the celestial bodies are inhabited, our earth +must be the mad-house of the universe. To us who know the era of the +great cynic only as recorded by the history of Dryasdusts, and the +flippant memoirs and autobiographies of his contemporaries, his biting +sarcasm cannot be considered undeserved. But, with regard to our own +times, most of us would probably hesitate to brand our present state of +culture, our modern civilization, as a fool’s paradise. + +It is a truism that an historical epoch can only be correctly studied +at a distance in time, as the outlines of a mountain can only be +studied at a distance in space. The actor in a piece, though intimately +acquainted with his own part and the accessories with which he comes +in contact, cannot form a just idea of the impression which the play, +with its more or less successful rendering, its scenery, and other +spectacular effects, produces on the mind of the average spectator. A +super who is ignorant of stage management and of the precise results +the manager aims at might deem many things going on behind the stage +both foolish and ridiculous. To him the frantic efforts of some actor, +or scene-shifter, to produce some ordinary effect might well appear as +lunacy. + +The judgment we form concerning the time we live in runs a great risk +of being biassed by the narrowness of the vista we can command. The +interdependence of causes simultaneously at work, the co-operation of +impulses active at a great distance, the peculiarities of circumstances +surrounding each leading phenomenon, the real intentions of leading +characters, secret motives in groups and parties—all this represents so +many sealed books to the contemporary to be gradually opened only by +future historians. + +There are no doubt many facilities ready to hand for the man who in +modern times desires to study his own epoch, which were not available +in the past. Distances are practically suppressed, the whole of +civilized humanity has been placed in intimate connection, a highly +developed Press records daily events everywhere in a minute fashion, +to the making of books there is no end, and in every direction an +elaborate mechanism is established for the obtaining of rapid and +precise information. In fact, the _Kammergelehrte_, who, like Kant, +would study the world-phenomenon without leaving his native town, would +in our days stand a better chance of obtaining completer and exacter +information than any philosopher before him. + +But, despite the quasi-ubiquitousness the modern philosopher enjoys, he +would indulge in self-deception were he tempted to believe that he had +secured all the data requisite to judge the contemporaries of his race +as they act, live, feel, and think during the closing years of this +century. + +For, against the easy access to information, must be placed the mass +of intricate problems that arise with every step of progress, the +multitude of ideas which strive for realization, the bewilderment +which ensues on crumbling systems and religions, new discoveries, +new theories, new and complicated associations of ideas, new and +hazy aspirations, sympathies, and yearnings—for all of which words +cannot be coined fast enough. Every day we witness political, social, +economic, and psychological phenomena, the explanation of which would +demand not only an enormous amount of knowledge, but reasoning powers +and a freedom from bias seldom blended in one human mind. Facts, +circumstances, theories, human actions, and human ideas, change and +intermingle so constantly and so rapidly as to produce bewilderment +capable of misleading any philosopher who attempts to gauge them with +the instruments of the past and in conformity with the doctrines of the +school to which he belongs. + +What renders it still more difficult to appraise any epoch, and +especially the present one, is the intimate interdependence of all +the phenomena to be observed. The idiosyncrasies of a sovereign, or +of a minister, influence legislation, legislation influences public +institutions, public institutions influence the upper classes, and the +upper classes influence the masses. But legislation, institutions, +the upper classes, and the people are influenced from a great number +of other directions, while they again influence the sovereign and +the minister. Thus it would be impossible to attribute with accuracy +a given number of effects to special causes: for every cause is the +effect of another cause, and every effect produces other effects. +For instance, art and literature may strongly influence men in power +as well as the masses, while no one will deny that men in power, as +well as the political and social condition of the masses, exercise +a strong influence on art and literature. And then, on top of it +all,—as if worse to confound the confusion of the man with a system, +trivial incidents intervene and bring about a new series of causes +and effects evidently destined to operate as long as humanity lasts. +So interdependent are the actors in the human drama, so complete is +the intricate and sensitive mechanism of causes and effects, and so +overcharged with energy are the social dynamos, that any fool, any +child, any trivial accident, may move one of the countless points +arranged by circumstances, and thus hurl the engine of events in new +and dangerous directions. + +These and many other difficulties encountered by the student of his own +time are largely responsible for his opinions, often savouring as much +of his idiosyncrasy, his professional and national prejudices as of an +independent inquiry. In order to choose between the maze of highways +and by-ways, in order to judge whether he moved forwards, backwards, +or in a circle, he gropes for some kind of a compass and naturally +clutches at that which his idiosyncrasy proffers. When we therefore +meet with an appraiser of his own epoch, it behooves us to bear in mind +the standpoint from which he has contemplated the world-phenomenon, +and with what bias and prejudice his views have been coloured. The old +Greek story of the sandal-maker who became prejudiced against a work +of art because the artist had made a mistake in the arrangement of the +sandal-strings, points its moral. The prejudices arising from trade, +personal interests, and many other palpable sources are not difficult +to trace and to evade, but where is the man whose views have not been +influenced by his nationality, his religion, his favourite science or +art, his love, his hatred, or his ambition? + +It is to such influences, often considered by the influenced as so many +advantages and seldom sufficiently noticed by his critics, that we +often owe the apparent profundity and exhaustiveness of an appreciation +which in reality is one-sided. + +Education, and, still more, an intense study of one special branch +of knowledge, rich in important and striking results, naturally tend +to strengthen the student’s faith and his belief in the capabilities +of his favourite science. The brain-cells, influenced by the will, +and habitually becoming stimulated by presentations—emanating from +the subject on which the student has concentrated his attention—adapt +themselves gradually to the perception of such presentations, and by +re-acting on other cells render the whole organism disposed to seek +such presentations. In plain language, the specialist in one science +has a great aptitude for discovering such causes and such effects +as his favourite science has best elucidated, while he is tempted +to overlook other causes and other effects which may be of equal or +greater importance. + +The specialist attains to a mastery of his own subject, and often +acquires a strong bias regarding other subjects, because he pursues his +inquiries somewhat after the same fashion as the dog follows the scent +of the game. By training, the dog is familiar with the smell of the +animal pursued, and, bent on following the trail, he pays no attention +to any other scents or smells that he encounters in his course. In +the same way the specialist rapidly perceives and minutely studies +any phenomena, however slight, with which his favourite science has +rendered him familiar, while he is apt to disregard phenomena demanding +fresh studies and threatening to be inexplicable by investigation +confined to the lines which he prefers to follow. + +Thus, if a law-student were to write a treatise on our epoch, he would +endeavour to show that the jurisprudence, the law, and the courts—in +fact, the whole legal mechanism—is the most important feature in our +civilization, and that on which progress or retrogression most depends. +As remedies for our evils, he would propose simpler or more complicated +forms of procedure, more or less enactments, according to his own +idiosyncrasies. + +A military man would consider a development on military lines as true +progress. He would yearn to draft the whole nation into the army! He +would favour universal conscription, as Lord Wolseley does, and might, +like Count Moltke, look upon war as a healthy bracing, an epuration, of +a race, and as an indispensable corrective to over-population. He would +cite the expansion of the chest in Germany as a proof of the power of +military training to further physical development, and would look upon +strict military discipline as the means of establishing moral order in +a country. + +A theologian would point to the immense influence exercised by +Christianity upon humanity, and would insist upon the religious aspect +of every question, and, like Mr. Drummond, would see in every new +discovery a confirmation of his peculiar dogmas. His remedy would be +more ritualism, or more liberal doctrines, or more emotion in religion, +according to his High Church, Broad Church, or Low Church creed. + +Philosophical religionists, like Mr. Benjamin Kidd and others who +pin their faith to the development of the altruistic feeling in +human beings, would endeavour to reconcile all phenomena under their +observation with their theory of social evolution. + +If therefore we wish to form a correct judgment of our own time and +our own contemporaries, we must not allow ourselves to be guided +exclusively by a scientist of one specialty. We ought to be all the +more on our guard, as the great erudition and the profound study which +each modern specialist has brought to bear on his subject gives to his +theories a striking plausibility, a savour of exact science to such an +extent as to sway our opinions in favour of the latest treatise we have +read. + +Politicians, sociologists, economists, biologists, theologians, and +the æsthetes have had their say and have each in their turn exercised +a periodical spell over the public mind. It is now the turn of the +alienists. Dr. Max Nordau has by his book entitled _Degeneration_ +produced no small sensation throughout the world, and not least +in this country. Though his work may not have made the stir of a +sensational novel read by the millions, there can be little doubt +that it has imposed itself on every educated mind in the country. It +is no exaggeration to say that, like a sharp trumpet-blast, it has +awakened the educated classes from the lethargy consequent upon the +din of clashing opinions and contradictory systems. This volume has +once more roused us to the fact that we, as individuals, as a nation, +as a race, are travelling at comet-speed towards a goal of which we +have no inkling. It sternly suggests that we are on the wrong road and +that a fate of a most horrible description is rapidly befalling us—an +affliction in most people’s view worse than annihilation. Madness is +shown to be insidiously invading our minds, and by its contagious +nature threatening to prove Voltaire’s biting sarcasm a stern prophecy. + +It is no wonder that his work has become as it were a nightmare +to millions of minds. If its diagnosis and its conclusions are as +irrefutable as to most people they appear to be, we indeed live in a +fool’s paradise: our leaders, our authorities, our men of genius, +are not the beacons we have held them to be, but will-o’-the-wisps +luring us into the bottomless quagmires of lunacy; the progression we +vaunted is a slippery plane sliding us back to bestiality; our means +for raising the masses are so many slashes at the bonds of moral +order and decency, calculated to unloose the brutish Loke of modern +democracy; unbridled animal appetites threaten to take the place of +law and religion; all social order is being undermined; and the vilest +instincts press for gratification in lust, rapine, and murder. With +all the solemnity, moral persuasiveness, and scientific authority of +a medical practitioner, Max Nordau tells us that a mortal disease is +invading our race, and that with the end of the century the “dusk” of +humanity begins. + +Before we accept the views of Max Nordau, before we have recourse +to the drastic remedies he seems to recommend, it is right that we +should subject his theories to the closest investigation. If his work +were one of exact science, there would be no necessity to refer to +the personality of the author, to his peculiar point of view, and to +his predilections. But, as his work partakes largely of the nature +of special pleading, as his methods of reasoning are those of the +enthusiastic specialist, and as his postulates are strongly coloured +by racial, national, and professional bias, the more we know of him +the more easily shall we follow him in his progress on the highways of +logic and in his deviations from them. Human language is not so perfect +as to allow us to dispense with the additional light on expressed +ideas which may be derived from one’s knowledge of the speaker who +gives utterance to them. To study the author as well as his work is +all the more permissible, as this volume is not intended as a complete +refutation of Max Nordau’s conclusions, but rather aims at separating +the dross from the gold and at giving him, as well as his work, their +right place and their true value as telling factors in the development +of our race. Indeed, this is exactly the method adopted by Max Nordau +in his study, not to say dissection, of his contemporaries. + +It must be clearly understood however that there is no intention of +going to the length to which Max Nordau has gone in speaking of men of +the day—an abuse of literature which recalls the literary squabbles +of past generations. The gross vituperation and the coarse calumny +he levels against those he denounces will certainly not enhance his +popularity or inspire confidence in his methods in England. In fact, +his frequent indulgence in personalities would have prejudiced his work +enormously were it not for the overwhelming testimony it offers of the +fact that its author’s mind is conspicuously devoid of the sense of +the ridiculous. Had it not been for this peculiar mental defect, his +treatment of his opponents could not have failed to remind him of the +disputing doctors in Molière’s _Malade Imaginaire_. + +Here we have to do not with the man, but with the author,—not with his +relations to his private surroundings, but with his relation to the +presentations he receives, the ideas he elaborates, and the conclusions +he proclaims. + +In _Degeneration_ Max Nordau evidently strives to take a cosmopolitan +standpoint. Only in three or four places does he speak of Germany as +his own country, while he displays a remarkable erudition in foreign +literature, but only a superficial knowledge of foreign circumstances. +Unconsciously however he constantly betrays his German nationality. +To say that he is a typical German involves by no means any slur upon +his views, has nothing to do with the fact that the Germans are at +this moment—for reasons entirely independent of German worth—rather +unpopular in this country. It is his book that clearly announces him +as a German, just as the books of Drummond and Benjamin Kidd announce +them to be English. In other words, his methods, his views, his +predispositions, his standards, his ideals, are thoroughly German. + +Few countries have so strong a power of inspiring love for their +institutions and their characteristics as Germany. Not only is the +German spell over those who are born and bred in the country, but +foreigners who reside there any length of time generally become +thoroughly Germanized. Even English people, whose characteristic it is +to create a little England around them wherever they go, are remarkably +susceptible to German influence when living in the country. + +Despite the propensity of many Germans, complained of by Max Nordau in +his book, to imitate French art and literature, the German people have +strongly pronounced characteristics, opinions, feelings, and views. +We, here in England, have ample opportunity of observing the tenacity +of the German bias. We sometimes meet with Germans who have conquered +their native propensities and thoroughly assimilated themselves with +the English nation. But, on the other hand, many Germans, when settled +among us, continue to look on everything through German spectacles, +and utterly fail to grasp, or even superficially to understand, the +English spirit. This refers, of course, only to those who are actually +born in Germany. The second generation is invariably more English +than the English. We often meet with Teutons who have come young to +England, gained a position here, married English wives, brought up a +large family of English children, and who yet remain as German as any +_Spiesbürger_ in Berlin. They do not appear so to the casual observer. +Their business relations, their acquaintances, their wives, and their +children, being all English, expect them to be English. They therefore +assume an English outward garb, but as soon as circumstances allow them +to drop their English character the German characteristics of these +“tame Englishmen” come out as strong as ever. These facts are elicited +in no critical spirit, but simply as proofs of the tenacity of the +German bias. + +The practical result of this bias is an open or secret contempt for +English views, a distrust in English institutions, a want of sympathy +with the English race, and doubts about the future of the British +Empire. + +If we wish Max Nordau’s nationality to throw light on the working of +his mind, we must realize what are the most essential traits of the +average German. + +Not yet completely freed from feudal institutions, it is natural that +the German people should associate moral and political order, good +administration, and personal protection, with feudal institutions. +Hence an immense respect for those in authority and a contempt for +the masses, even on the part of the masses. Democratic government and +individual liberty inspire the German with great distrust, because he +considers that the introduction into Germany of such features would +mean a social upheaval in which the meagre advantages which now each +individual enjoys might be lost. + +As in Germany all initiative belongs to the authorities, the people +have become accustomed to bend to superiors, and where an Englishman +would attempt to establish a Free Order, the Germans can conceive +nought but discipline. A great number of enlightened Germans submit +tacitly to all kinds of authorities because they are morally convinced +that this is best for themselves and their country; but a large part +of the masses, having always found that the authorities gain their +ends by the use of police and military force, submit only because they +are obliged. Hence a deep-rooted feeling of discontent in a nation +constantly compelled to do the bidding of others. This discontent has +engendered a hatred against the upper classes similar to that which in +France paved the way for the first Revolution. The fear of the outbreak +of this hatred gives, in the eyes of the German middle-class, an extra +halo to authority. + +The love of following authorities, instead of standing alone, is in +Germany not confined to the domain of politics. While Englishmen, down +to the wage-earning labourer, have, or believe they have, their own +opinions about politics, administration, religion, social affairs, and +even scientific problems, the Germans have an accepted authority in +each of these branches. Were we to question, say, a hundred Germans +in a _Bierhalle_, or any other public place, as to their opinions on +the above-named subjects, the replies would be simply an enumeration +of their authorities in each branch of knowledge. Though this +characteristic is a misfortune to Germany, to the Germans it savours +of a quaint reasonableness. A German Socialist, asked why he blindly +accepted Liebknecht’s views, replied: “I should be both silly and +conceited if I, a scantily educated man, with no leisure and means for +study, could believe myself capable of forming a better opinion than +Herr Liebknecht, who has brought a remarkable mind and great knowledge +to bear on political questions.” + +This reasoned self-depreciation, this blind faith in authorities, +accounts for much in Germany which would be impossible in England. The +way, for example, in which the youths of the country are forced into +the ranks of the army against their will and inclination would be out +of the question with us. Here, the great majority of young men would +simply refuse, and to coerce them by military executions would involve +a wholesale slaughter against which the whole nation would revolt. +There have been young men in Germany who, on principle, have resisted +the compulsory service, but brutal punishment has quickly dissuaded +those of their comrades who secretly admired them from following their +example. Nothing could be more unjust to the German people than to +attribute to cowardice this lamb-like submission. German youths are +as brave as those of any other nation, and what to us English might +appear a want of both moral and physical courage is simply the powerful +influence of the German bias. + +Enough has been said to show that German education and German +surroundings tend to foster in the human mind veneration for authority +and aristocracy, contempt for the plebeian, distrust of liberty, a firm +belief in the unquenchable power of man’s lowest instincts, a nervous +demand for authoritative repression of human passions, contentment with +a prosaic existence, small resources, and poor prospects. + +It is natural that a nation whose mind is moulded in such a form +should despair of the practical realization of its ideals; that the +aspirations of the German race for liberty, enjoyment, and romance +should seek an outlet in the realms of the imagination; and that the +Germans should be a sentimental race. In this they differ diametrically +from our nation. The young German, when his humdrum work-day is over, +will plunge into books of poetry, romance, and adventure. He will +worship and eagerly follow his pet heroes, but to emulate them in +practical life, as a rule, does not occur to him. + +His romantic admiration of female beauty, and his sentiment of love, +have nothing to do with his marriage. He postpones, as a rule, the +taking to himself a wife until he is fairly successful in life, when +pure romantic love has ceased to exercise any spell over him, and +he expects that his marriage should improve his social position and +procure him a circle of desirable friends. His poetical notions of love +do not interfere with the choice of a wife. What he looks for is a +young woman with practical qualities, likely to be a useful _Hausfrau_, +and when he has found her, he loses no time in suppressing all her +poetical notions and soon reduces her to a submissive drudge. + +No suspicion of inconsistency enters the mind of an average German +when he reads or writes romances of love and chivalry in which the +hero shows the most refined courtesy, commits deeds of self-abnegation +and daring in honour of his lady-love, and exercises the utmost tact +in shielding her from every harsh and unpleasant impression, and at +the same time treats his wife as one devoid of all claims upon his +consideration. He will exact from her such small menial services as the +slave performs for his master. He will expect her to work constantly +for him, the family, and the house. He will not allow her enough +time or money for her toilet, for pleasure, for book, and social +intercourse. He will not stir to save her trouble or fatigue. He will +come to the table in dressing-gown and slippers, and coolly look for +special dishes for himself, while his wife and children have to content +themselves with cheap garbage. + +Germans of the middle-class who come to England frequently express +their amazement at the way in which English husbands constantly pay +attention to their wives. They call it undignified for the breadwinner +and master of the house, on return from a day of professional work, to +“dance attendance” on his wife, whose duty it is to serve her husband. + +The German, prior to marriage, allows his poetical notions to be +disturbed as little by his sexual emotions as by his marriage plans. +In a methodical and business-like way he gratifies the former +in police-supervised establishments, and what he looks upon as +“constitutional sprees” are never allowed to interfere with the course +of his affairs. After a night of debauch he will turn up in his studio, +his office, or his home, smiling and happy as if nothing had happened. + +We record these observations with no desire to criticise or to +underrate the German character. Nor do we wish to insinuate that +hypocrisy and profligacy are non-existent in England. We simply wish +to show that the development of the German race has induced them to +conceive ideals entirely unrealizable, and to dream of aims so far off +in time as to render them unattainable. + +It will be evident to all who have read _Degeneration_ that Max Nordau +is under the influence of a strong German bias. As we proceed, we shall +have occasion to point out how in many instances this bias has warped +his perceptions, his reasoning, and his conclusions. + +From characteristics revealed in his work, the observant reader will, +no doubt, conclude that Max Nordau belongs to the Jewish race. The view +he takes of the disgraceful Jew-baiting tendencies now prevailing in +Germany is based on exactly the same mistakes committed by the Jews +themselves, as we shall have an opportunity of verifying later on. He +is evidently a free-thinking Jew, a type which we meet with everywhere, +and against which as few objections can be raised as against any +other type of man. The free-thinking Jew is generally clever, +well-instructed, moral, and cheerful. His good qualities however +do not prevent him from having his peculiar characteristics, which +naturally influence his perceptions and his feelings. He has generally +a cut-and-dried life-philosophy based on science and common-sense as +well as on Jewish authorities. He distrusts democracy, especially +Christian democracy, and feels never quite safe except under laws and +institutions which allow him to assume such ascendancy as his mental +qualifications can secure for him, and those who think with him. He +does not seek for primary causes, and sets up no spiritual ideals. +Though he may not be religious, he has yet retained something of the +monotheist creed, the predilection for worldly affairs, and the habit +of looking forward to a future life rather in his descendants than in +a heaven—a view which always characterized his race. His philosophy is +nothing if not practical. His aims are immediate, and, as a rule, he +eagerly embraces all the teachings of the materialist scientists. + +Max Nordau is a modern scientist. He is not a pioneer in science, but +a most persevering and plodding student of the works of others. He +belongs to that class of _savants_ who spend almost all their time and +all their energy in reading up the authorities. So vast an erudition +as he has acquired cannot be attained to without some sacrifice in +other directions. The constant absorption of other peoples’ opinions +and theories compels the judgment to lean more and more on authorities, +and this unfits it, to some extent, for independent action. It is the +indefatigable readers who most blindly follow authorities, and it +suffices to glance at Max Nordau’s dedication to Professor Lombroso +to understand to what an extent he is subject to the influence of +“Masters.” + +The pride taken by a scientist in his science, and the great practical +results achieved by scientific investigations, naturally tend to +foster an implicit confidence in its tenets. This has been especially +the case during the last decades, so remarkable for religious +tolerance. As the faith in old dogmas has receded, science has +advanced, and in many cases taken its place. That such has been the +case has naturally flattered the votaries of science, and tempted them +to become prophets as well as investigators. They have come to look +upon systems as dogmas, speculations as absolute truths, and in this +fashion scientific superstition tends to take the place of religious +superstition. + +The scientifically superstitious man is an example of the dangers +of a little knowledge. Not that our men of science, including the +superstitious scientists, are defective in such knowledge as is +attainable at our present stage, but the sum total of all human +knowledge is still, and is probably destined ever to be, only partial +and extremely superficial. Compared with the knowledge in the past, +modern science represents an immense progress, but as to throwing light +on the great secret of the Universe, far from having done anything of +the sort, it has, on the contrary, revealed more and more inexplicable +wonders, and placed us face to face with more insoluble problems. +Though trite, the aphorism that the more we learn the more we realize +our ignorance is truer to-day than ever. It is natural and excusable +that devotees of a science which to them has revealed wonderful +results should raise abnormal expectations with regard to its future +possibilities, and also that vanity, a weakness often co-existent with +vast knowledge, should prompt a scientist to extol and glorify science +far beyond the bounds of reason; for any worship offered to science +rebounds necessarily on its high priests. This impossibility to realize +the limits in which science moves, and the yearning for admiration, lie +at the base of scientific superstition. + +The scientifically superstitious man believes that science has +adequately replied to those great questions which humanity has been +asking itself for the last five thousand years. How was creation +originated? For what purpose did it come into existence? What is man? +What does the scheme of humanity involve? Have we existed before our +birth? Shall we live after death? What is the origin of evil? What +is eternity? What is boundlessness in space? What is reason? What is +instinct? and so on. + +If his excessive study has not seriously impaired his independent +reasoning powers, the superstitious scientist may confess that these +questions have not been replied to by science, but there will still +lurk in his mind the belief that one day science will answer them. + +He does not distinguish between nomenclature, registration, and +classification on the one hand, and explanation on the other. When he +has named any newly-discovered substance, force, or phenomenon, he +imagines that he has explained them. He believes that he has accounted +for what is called matter when he has evolved the atom, and that he has +unveiled the secret of life when he has discovered the protoplasm or +the cell. + +All scientists are not affected by scientific superstition. They +generally suffer from it in an inverse ratio to the actual knowledge +they have acquired. The pioneer in science generally exhibits less of +this weakness than those who simply act as commentators and elaborators +of other men’s discoveries. + +The votaries of certain sciences are less apt to indulge in scientific +superstition than those of other branches. Thus, astronomers rarely +exhibit any such symptoms, while biologists are more apt to do so, and +psychologists are more scientifically superstitious than any other +class of scientists. It might be hazardous to attempt an explanation +of this fact, but may it not be found in the obviousness of outward +infinity, and the impalpability of inward infinity? + +Later on we shall have ample occasion to show to what an extent Max +Nordau’s mind has been clouded by scientific superstition. + +Finally, it must be pointed out that Max Nordau is an enemy to France. +It is only human in any German. The stupendous armament of France +is ostentatiously promoted with the object of revenge upon Germany. +France, in her sulks over the lost provinces, takes every opportunity +of showing animosity, and this despite the conciliatory attitude of her +Government. + +Though nearly a quarter of a century has elapsed since the disastrous +war between Germany and France, the bad feeling between the two +nations has unfortunately been kept up. France cannot forget the loss +of her provinces, and, though the attitude of the French Government +is conciliatory, outbursts of a feeling of hatred against Germany, +accompanied by provocative language on the part of irresponsible men, +constantly occur. + +The German people, with a vivid recollection of the French invasion +early in the century, and perhaps taking the expressions of the +war-party in France too seriously, look upon the French nation as +their arch-enemies. By the celebration of anniversaries painful to the +French, and other means, the German Government keeps the animosity +between the two nations alive, and impresses the people with the +opinion that the heavy taxes it has to pay for armaments are made +indispensable by the enmity of France. It, is therefore, natural that +hatred against France should prevail in Germany. + +We understand that Max Nordau for a considerable time was the Paris +correspondent of German papers, and we may take for granted that he +would not have been able to please his German readers had he not been +strongly biassed in favour of Germany against France—a fact to which +his work bears ample witness. + +Such is, then, the man who, in his undaunted faith in his science and +in himself, in the name of truth and the welfare of humanity, and +undeterred by the penalties of the Great Council and Hell Fire, has +said to his brethren,—to the one, “You are Raca!” and to the other, +“Thou fool!” + + + + +CHAPTER II + +_DUSK OR DAWN!_ + + +Nordau’s theory is that the educated classes of the world are +degenerating; that the peculiarities in passions, tastes, pastimes, and +moods, bear witness to such degeneration; that the cause must be found +in the physical condition of the brains of such authors and artists as +for the time being have the ear and the eye of the public; that the +remedy against degeneration may be found in a moral quasi-compulsory +supervision on the part of the non-degenerate over degenerate authors +and artists. If we are not entirely exact in this summary of his +postulates and conclusions, it is to a great extent Nordau’s fault, +because nowhere does he give any decided statement of the scope of his +book. + +In his first chapter he goes out of his way in order to protest against +the misconception which represents him as having insinuated that the +whole of humanity exhibited signs of decay, and he declares that his +remarks apply exclusively to the educated classes. Were this absolutely +true, there would have been but small occasion for his remarkable +work. But over and over again in the pages of _Degeneration_ he speaks +of the masses as partly affected by degeneration, and of the danger of +the contamination spreading from the educated classes to the masses. He +mentions the extreme Socialists and the Anarchists as the victims of +the mental disease he investigates. And yet he flatters himself that +the proletariat is not as the upper classes are, and bases his opinion +on the fact that they appear satisfied with the old forms of art and +poetry, that they prefer George Ohnet’s novels to the works of the +symbolists, and Mascagni’s music to that of Wagner. + +These statements evidently emanate from one who has mingled little with +the people. The truth is that the newest books, the newest music, the +newest pictures, only slowly reach the working classes, and when such +works are the outcome of temporary fashion and mood, they might not +reach them at all. But this by no means proves that the working classes +do not experience the impulses which prompt the predilections of the +upper classes. + +If Nordau’s views of the proletariat in general were confirmed by +actualities prevailing among the German proletariat, a heavy load would +be lifted from the shoulders of the German Government. But, judging +from the German Press—the official Press as well as the Socialistic—or +from the speeches of so high an authority as the Emperor himself, +there exists but little of the Philistine contentment with the present +order of things of which the author speaks. On the contrary, the +Emperor complains that the discontented working classes are losing +their respect for things that used to be sacred to them, such as +patriotism, feudal loyalty, religion, etc. + +Does Nordau mean to tell us that the pornographic novels of certain +French authors, that the works of Émile Zola and other realists, are +not read by the masses in France? Who then pays for the enormous +editions issued after millions have read them in _feuilleton_? Or does +he wish us to believe that only the aristocracy and the upper classes +in France have been affected by the mysticism which finds its outlet in +the pilgrimage to Lourdes? + +As to the working classes in the English-speaking countries, which, by +the way, signify so little to Nordau that he not even once mentions +them in his work, are they not children of their time, and do they +not reflect every tendency, every virtue, and every vice in the +upper classes? Not only would Nordau find, were he to investigate +the matter, that those stigmata of degeneration which he refers to +as such—Individualism and Anarchism—are making big strides among the +English-speaking working classes, but that the taste for criminal and +realistic literature is growing in popularity. He would even find +Wagner’s music intensely applauded by audiences recruited from the +working class. + +Far from developing ethically in different directions, the upper and +the lower classes in this country move together, each simultaneously +influencing the other. While the lower classes follow the upper classes +in many things—for example, politics, dress, etc.—the upper classes +obtain their comic songs, their humorous stories, and most of their fun +from the lower classes. + +The impartial observer cannot fail to notice the kinship which exists +between the proclivities of the two extremes of English society—the +wealthiest nobility and the poorest labourers. Both these classes are +intensely fond of sports, both degrade sport by betting, both are given +to lavish expenditure, both pride themselves on physical force and +pluck above everything. Both are prone to disregard the sanctity of +marriage. Both indulge freely in the pleasures of eating and drinking. +Individuals of both classes get on together better than they do with +the middle classes. And both are only superficially religious. + +Perhaps this remarkable community of tastes and views may account +for what has always been an inexplicable enigma to foreigners,—the +conservative working man. + +Nordau classes, among the indications of decay, the yearning for +freedom from outward control and for complete personal independence. It +is true he takes for granted that such yearnings for individual liberty +aim at the realization of bestial propensities now, according to him, +kept in check only by law, police, and public opinion. We shall, later +on, find that he has completely misunderstood the attempts to shake +off all shackles which he has noticed. Here it suffices to point out +that the longing for individual freedom, which manifests itself in a +thousand ways unobserved by Nordau, and in the upper classes takes +the shape of a revolt against conventionality, is conspicuous among +the working classes of Great Britain. This year’s elections have +proved beyond doubt that the tendency towards State Socialism which +characterized the Liberal policy is fast becoming distasteful to the +rank and file of voters. The tyranny, which, in the name of Socialism, +was exercised by the Trades Unions, will soon be a thing of the past. +When at its height of development the Trades Unions hardly comprised +one-fifth of the working classes, and now already the movement is in +full retrogression. The Free Labour Association, though only lately +called into existence, meets with increasing support, and may no doubt +be looked upon as an expression of our working classes’ new-born love +of freedom. + +This change of mind, or, as Nordau would call it, this degeneration, +also accounts for the present halt in the advance of the Socialistic +propaganda and the rapid spread of moderate but decisive Anarchist +opinions which in no small degree contributed to the recent +Conservative victory at the polls. + +What is here stated regarding the British working classes is true +regarding the working classes of all the English-speaking countries. +Everywhere we find a strong yearning for freedom from control. The +remarkable point about the expressions of this yearning is that, though +the votaries of the revolt against State tyranny have so far not been +able to formulate any complete or practical scheme for the life of +a State, or community, governed by the best instincts of the human +being instead of by law, their views are rapidly gaining ground. This +is especially the case in the United States, where Mr. Tucker, the +editor of a little journal called _Liberty_, is steadily extending his +influence. + +The author of _Degeneration_ distorts reality when he supposes that +the upper classes of a country can be corrupt and degenerate, while +the masses conform to that German Philistine ideal—a very poor one +indeed—which Nordau would fain hold up to them. This is proved by the +fact that it is in their relations with the masses that the corruption +of the upper classes becomes conspicuous, and that only through +response from the masses can many forms of such corruptions become +possible. + +It would take us too far to record all the proofs that actualities +furnish of this fact. We shall simply point out one of the many +conditions in the masses which promote corruption in the educated +classes, namely, poverty. The appalling, demoralizing, brutalising +poverty in the large modern cities—this poisonous fungus grown out of +modern government and political corruptions, not only kills the sense +of self-respect and decency in its victims, but renders prostitution, +through sheer hunger and suffering, the trade of millions. It is +poverty among the masses which undermines the artistic feeling of the +nation, stands in the way of applied art, and compels the caterer of +popular amusements to appeal to low passions and brutal instincts. Our +epoch is not the first example in history where masses of destitute +people exercise all their ingenuity in corrupting the wealthy citizens +in the hope of snatching some crumbs of their wealth. + +Dire poverty it is, with its hovels, its rags, and its diseases, which +gives riches their immense value in the eyes of the people. It creates +a thirst for gold. No man thinks himself safe from falling into the +abyss of modern poverty until he has amassed a large fortune and placed +himself in the position of amassing more. The love of wealth corrupts +Literature, Art, the Press. It is at the base of all financial, +political, administrative scandals. It is responsible for mercenary +marriages, which fill the law courts, pollute society, and contaminate +the home. + +The poverty of the masses paralyses the efforts of honest industries, +honest trades, and honest professions. The men who succeed are not +those who benefit their fellow-men, but those who ruthlessly trample +them under foot in their heedless race for gold. It is a well-known +fact that the upper classes are not prolific, and would die out were +they not recruited from the ranks; if therefore the state of the masses +is such as to allow its worst element to rise to influential positions +in society, demoralization of the masses must inevitably produce +demoralization of the classes. + +We will leave it to the thinking public to consider to what extent +other conditions of the masses, besides poverty, react in all countries +on the upper classes—what the effects are, first on the masses, and +then on the classes, of corrupt and retrograde churches, compulsory +service in the army, police tyranny, bad and unjust laws, tutelage +under pragmatical Philistines, caste institutions, official newspapers, +State-regulated arts and entertainments, administrative favouritism, +etc. + +But Nordau takes no heed of such all-powerful causes of corruption. +He sees degeneration only in the upper classes, and, placing the cart +before the horse, he regards what he considers the degenerated author +and artist as the cause of a state of affairs of which they are the +very last products. + +There are many passages in his book that strongly suggest that he is +not completely sincere in his one-sided view. The savage blows he +sometimes deals at the Anarchists bear witness that this form of—as he +would call it—degeneration among the masses caused him a considerable +amount of uneasiness. Judging by the similarity of his language and +that of the Emperor of Germany, he might well be commissioned to brand +both Socialists and Anarchists as wild beasts. Be this as it may, his +few allusions to the corruption of the masses serve to enhance the +untrustworthiness of the signs of degeneration which he points out in +the upper classes. + +Among these figure prominently—who would believe it?—modern female +toilets. And why? Not because they are indecent, as they have often +been in other periods, but because they are eccentric. Is there then a +normal dress for ladies? Or what code is there in existence to which +Nordau can appeal? Is it a sign of degeneration to hold that one of the +chief objects of toilets is to be beautiful and to enhance the beauty +of the wearer? And ought a lady who dresses according to this principle +to be put down as a dweller on the border-land of madness? If women +love to dress well, and men love to behold them well-dressed, would it +not be madness to adopt ugly and monotonous toilets? + +It is, of course, not difficult to see that the author’s standard of +female toilet is the plain and ugly dress of the German housewife, and +that he has never realized the delight which an Englishman takes in +seeing his wife richly dressed, and in a way that suits her face and +form. If Nordau’s standard of female dress is the severe draperies of +the antique, he does not say so. But, if it be, we must remind him that +the beauty of the classic draperies was borrowed from the beauty of the +forms they revealed or partly displayed. + +With the best will, we could not in northern Europe emulate the +Greeks in dress. There are two objections: the climate, which +demands warm covering; the sense of may-be false modesty, inherited +from the early Christian ages, which prevents the display of human +forms. The time will no doubt come when humanity is sufficiently +pure-minded—sufficiently degenerated, as Nordau would probably say—to +dress in clinging draperies, to expose the form more freely indoors +and in warm weather; and who would say that morality would not be +the gainer? A movement in this direction is already apparent. The +skirt-dance represents one stage. The appearance of an actress without +shoes or stockings might well herald a return to sandals, and the +abandonment of the barbarous fashion of cramping children’s feet in +pointed shoes. + +But to call the women of European society degenerate because, under the +present circumstances, they do not go about in light tunics, displaying +their feet, their arms, and one leg, is hardly fair. + +Our great alienist is very severe on the men of society as well, more +especially for the manner in which they trim their beards. We cannot +help sympathizing with men who wear a double-pointed beard when they +are told that they are on the high road to lunacy because they ape +Lucius Verrius, a gentleman whose portrait they have probably never +seen. Such stigmata of folly could have been pointed out only by a man +whose mind is completely devoid of a sense of the ridiculous. + +To anybody who has not a special point to prove at all cost, it will be +patent that throughout the whole course of history educated men never +dressed more soberly than now. In this matter English fashion governs +the world, and the ruling ideas in Englishmen’s dress are durability, +comfort, and adaptability to the occasions on which it is worn. +Continental men may not adhere so strictly to these ideas, but there is +good reason to believe that in a short time they will do so. + +Modern room and house decorations are, according to Nordau, so many +indications of degeneration and decay. That there are many rooms +and houses eccentrically furnished and decorated throughout the +civilized world no one would deny. But compared with the number of +houses and rooms chastely furnished and decorated in a manner which +is incomparably more pleasant and attractive than the average rooms, +especially in Germany and England thirty years ago, these abodes of +eccentrics sink into insignificance. As to the decoration of public +halls and places of amusement, we surely notice an improvement which +could not point to degeneration. Hardly in any European town would such +wall decorations be now permitted as disfigured the walls of public +places of amusement and dancing-halls in Germany some thirty years +ago—the Apollo Saal of Hamburg, to wit, the walls of which represented +hell in the worst taste possible. + +Here, again, Nordau gives us no standard to go by. He does not tell +us what the house or the room of a rational being should be like, or +to what extent a wealthy man may indulge in a freak, or amuse his +friends by grotesque furniture and bizarre decorations, without being +degenerated. + +The enjoyments of society especially present symptoms which cause our +psychologist to tremble for the sanity of the upper classes. Under this +head, we expected him to say something of the increasing taste for +healthy games and sport, for travel, and the amateur practice of the +arts for amusement’s sake. Had he been willing to look at the question +from both sides, he might have said something about the increasing love +of science, especially social science; of good books as well as bad +ones; of the high prices fetched by the paintings of the old masters, +even those not belonging to the pre-Raphaelite period, consequently +real works of art according to Nordau. He might have acknowledged +the improved tone in social gatherings and the marked diminution in +convivial drunkenness. + +While sitting in judgment upon the upper classes of Europe, why +should he not have noticed the more serious side of their lives as +well as their enjoyments, as manifested in subscriptions to hospitals +or orphanages, and institutes of every description; sick-nursing +establishments, where ladies of high rank and wealth give their +personal services, sacrifices of time and comfort in the endeavour +to brighten the lives of the poor, to save fallen women, to assist +released prisoners, to protect children and even animals from cruelty? +We say, purposely, nothing of all the charitable work done in +connection with churches, because Nordau and his admirers might not +recognise any results of religious feeling as a proof of sanity. + +But all these emphatic and unmistakable indications of the state of +society—at least as valuable as the manifestations of vice, hysteria, +and eccentricity—are ignored. On the other hand, he makes much of the +attempts which here and there have been made, especially in Paris, +with representations appealing to many senses at once; for instance, +pictures exhibited with music, musical recitals in darkened rooms, +etc. Such cases are not only extremely rare, but simply are another +combination of many arts hardly more complicated than that represented +by operas, in which dance[,] music, poetry, and painting are mingled in +order to please. + +In what recorded period, and in what nation, have there not been +attempts to create new sources of enjoyment? Why should not attempts +be made at advance in amusements as well as in any other feature of +our civilization? That many of these experiments appear silly, and +end in utter failure, ought to surprise nobody, and scientists the +least. Any one who has tried to invent something new, to ascertain by +experiments some scientific fact, or to solve a physical or mechanical +problem, ought to know that a very large number of experiments are +bound to fail before success is achieved. It is strange to find in +our days a scientist condemning, as the beginning of folly, that +dissatisfaction with existing things which is the primary motor of all +progress and all knowledge. By doing so he ranges himself on the side +of those Philistines who burnt the apostles of progress as heretics and +imprisoned the pioneers of science as madmen. + +The unrest which our psychologist notices in the educated classes +exists as well among all the lower classes of Europe, though among them +it reveals itself in other manifestations. It springs however from +the same source—a strong instinctive feeling, largely corroborated by +judgment, that human life in all spheres is, in the present epoch, +utterly out of harmony with nature, with our irresistible instincts, +and all those noble aspirations, on the realization of which our +self-respect, our ease of mind, and our happiness alone can be based. +It is not alone the present feeling of incongruity which disturbs +humanity, but the fast-ripening conviction that we are moving in a +wrong direction inspires despair, pessimism in some, and a desire for +hazardous new departures in others. + +This sense of unrest, this craving for change, far from being symptoms +of degeneration, are the first faint indications of renewing vitality. +If decay there be, it is simply the fermentation which precedes +germination. + +Two opposing principles, two different systems, two classes of +antagonistic institutions, cannot exist in the same place and at the +same time. When therefore old things have been tried _ad nauseam_ and +constantly found wanting, any unprejudiced man, nay, even an animal, +must experience a desire to destroy them. This feeling naturally +becomes strongest in the man with an imaginative and aspiring mind: +for besides the general disgust of old things, he sees in them the +chief obstacles to better and higher things. The axe must precede the +plough, because the forest cannot co-exist with the wheat-field. The +growing enmity against old dogmas, old authorities, old forms among +the educated and artistic classes, the kindling rage of the masses +against existing institutions, signal the clearing of the rank jungle +and the pestilential swamps prior to cultivation. The leading features +of modern culture have up till now been submission to authorities, +violation of nature, sacrifice of individual liberty, and progression +on Collectivist lines. What wonder then that those who keenly feel the +present degradation of man, achieved under old conditions, should turn, +against these and clamour for liberty, nature, and self? + +Nordau, with his German-Philistine ideas, with his head crammed +full of authoritative teaching, and biassed by the clap-trap of the +commonest Collectivism, has utterly misunderstood the phenomena which +he has only partially observed. He does not allow for the mistakes, +the exaggerations, and the eccentricities committed by men who try to +give expression to their feelings, their yearnings, their aspirations, +unhampered by traditional bonds. He is bewildered because a movement +springing entirely from feeling and instinct does not follow a fixed +programme, or some dry philosophical system. He under-estimates the +value of an ethical revolution, because so far it has not reached +its constructive stage; and because the new apostles of liberty, +intoxicated by their self-liberation, run amuck indiscriminately +against all old things, be they good or bad; because the movement is in +the hands of extremists, enthusiasts, and sentimentalists, and still +awaits the guiding hand of the unbiassed logician, the cool-headed +sociologist and economist, capable of harmonizing it with practical +life and moral order. + +Nordau, by his book, has forfeited his claim to be one of these. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +_MYSTICISM AND THE UNKNOWABLE_ + + +Of the good things contained in Nordau’s book which should secure for +it a place in the study of every educated man, his fourth chapter +entitled “Etiology” figures conspicuously. He deals here with the +causes—not the primary economic and sociological causes, but the +immediate causes—of the increasing bodily debilities and mental +derangements characteristic of our epoch. Such facts, or generally +assumed facts, as that the average term of human life is extending; +that the average stature of man has increased since the middle ages, +rendering the armour of mighty men of those days too small for +middle-sized men of our generation; that the average chest-measure +in the German army is expanding; that personal beauty of children, +women, and men is in the ascendant; that many men attain to a great +age without the slightest sign of diminished mental power;—all these +facts might appear so many contradictions to Nordau’s assertions in the +chapter alluded to. + +But, though the consideration of them might induce him to modify +some of the minor points, they are not completely inconsistent with +his general reasoning. He warns us that the excessive consumption of +spirits and tobacco, the use of opiates and poisons in general, produce +debility and premature death. Bad food, bad air, bad dwellings, and a +great number of other disadvantages which town dwellers, especially +the poor, must endure, are no doubt at least as harmful to body and +mind as he proves. He rightly attributes a great number of nerve +diseases to the prostration and fatigue consequent upon over-exertion +and over-excitement, which seems inevitable in an epoch of railways, +telegraphs, and machinery. + +The whole of his chapter “Etiology,” however, dealing as it does with +the degeneration of the masses, seems to contradict what he says in +his first chapter about the upper classes only being affected by _fin +de siècle_ degeneration, while the masses experience only a more or +less slight touch of it. It also seems to disprove his theory that +degenerate authors and artists are the chief cause of degeneration +among the upper classes, a view which leads him to overlook the +most palpable and most powerful causes for the production of those +psychological phenomena throughout civilized humanity which he notices +only among the upper classes. + +In discussing degeneration it is of the utmost importance to know how +the affliction progresses—whether certain authors and artists were +degenerated, and then affected the upper classes—or whether the upper +classes were degenerated and thus produced the degenerated authors +and artists. Nordau seems to vacillate between the two opinions, or +he considers the pernicious influence to have been reciprocal. It +is however clear that he regards these authors and artists, as well +as those members of the upper classes who sympathize with them, as +dwellers on the border-land between sanity and madness. The stigmata, +or the signs of distorted minds, he divides—as they necessarily must be +divided—into bodily stigmata and mental stigmata. The bodily stigmata +are of course malformations of the head, and he lays particular stress +on the conformation of the ear, its more or less projecting position, +the shape of the lobe, or its clinging to the head. It would have +been charity and justice on his part to have explained that, while +these stigmata are frequently found on lunatics and idiots, there are +probably millions of people who bear them without being demented, or +even eccentric. + +On the other hand, it cannot be denied that there are thousands of +lunatics who possess well-shaped heads and ears. + +He relies however but little on the bodily stigmata, and finds them +only on a few of his subjects. He deals, of course, chiefly with the +mental stigmata, and among these he gives mysticism a prominent place. +He quotes from Legrain to the effect that “mystical thoughts are to +be laid to the account of insanity and degeneration,” but Legrain +adds at once that they are observable in two states—in epilepsy and +in hysterical delirium. According to his authority we consequently +know that those who suffer from epilepsy and delirium are apt to be +mystical. But Legrain would probably be the first to object to the +conclusion that all those who are mystically inclined suffer from +epilepsy and delirium. + +In his definition of mysticism Nordau says that “the word describes a +state of mind in which the subject imagines that he sees or divines +unknown and inexplicable relations amongst phenomena, discerns in +things hints at mysteries, and regards them as symbols.” But he adds, +“by which dark powers seek to unveil, or, at least, to indicate all +sorts of marvels which he endeavours to guess, though generally in +vain.” + +We have divided his definition into two parts, because placed in one +sentence it seems an incorrect and unfair definition, the former part +of which might be used as a proof of degeneration in a perfectly sound +mind, while the latter part is the essential of the whole definition. + +As we have already pointed out, science and all researches have utterly +failed to furnish replies to all questions regarding the origin, +aim, plan, and final destiny of the universe and of humanity. Under +such circumstances, the world around us, that which has preceded +it, that which will follow it, as well as ourselves, necessarily +remain mysteries. Can then any one who perceives or divines unknown, +and to us now inexplicable, relations between phenomena and who +discerns mysteries be regarded as a degenerate? All the scientific +facts of which we are now in possession were mysteries before they +were discovered, and the scientists who, guided by slight hints and +sometimes by guesses, have unravelled the marvels of nature, could not +surely be put down as lunatics. It is therefore evident that the phrase +“dark power” is a most essential part in Nordau’s definition, and +that a man can behold mysteries, dwell on them, study them, sometimes +unravel them, and remain a perfectly sane man, and that he only who is +mystical and deals with mysteries in an irrational way is a degenerate. + +Nordau says as much in his illustration of the peasant who is a +mystic in his religion and in his belief in the weather-witch, but a +matter-of-fact man in his farming and in his business. But he is not so +lenient to the exponents of the mystic school in art and literature. +With regard to these, he is rather prone to determine the state of +their mind according to that part of a quotation from Morel which he +has italicised in his book, “_a morbid deviation from an original +type_.” The word morbid alone would have sufficed, but he seems to +attach more importance to the other part of the sentence and to regard +all who deviate from an original type as degenerate. He does not allow +for extenuating circumstances in the authors and artists as he does in +the case of the peasant. If he did, he could not class any of these, or +their admirers, among the degenerates, unless he could also prove that +they were irrational in their daily life and their business relations. + +He acknowledges that the emotional nature of man has played a more +important part in the world than his intellect, and yet he seems +to have before his eyes an original type consisting exclusively +of intellect and devoid of emotions. If man’s destiny, his moral +condition, his education, his happiness, and his usefulness in the +world, were to be determined chiefly by his intellectual power, the +progress of the race would have been infinitely more slow than it has +been, and the bulk of individuals now alive would be far less removed +from the animal than they are. + +It might be contended that, if not all, at least a large number of +religions have brought with them many evils, but, taking a broad view +of the work accomplished by them in comparison, not with what they +would have done had they been more perfect, but with that state which +would have prevailed had they never existed, no unprejudiced historian +will deny that civilization and the progress of our race have been +considerably accelerated through the influence of religions. + +No religion is based on logic, and hardly ever were religious precepts +and dogmas accepted exclusively on intellectual grounds. Faith and +reasoning, considerably modified by emotion, have always formed the +basis of religious beliefs. + +Not only in connection with religious matters, but in every event and +every development in human affairs, emotion has played an active and +prominent part. Such feelings as love, friendship, ambition, lust, +gratitude, hatred, revengefulness, patriotism, loyalty, chivalry, etc., +are the great motive powers in the human drama, and when the intellect +steps in it is as their counsellor and their servant. + +It is therefore legitimate and reasonable for those who wish to sway +human beings, who wish to educate them, elevate them, to address +themselves to their emotional nature. In the position in which man +is placed—living on a cosmic grain of sand, moving in space by an +inexplicable power at an inconceivable speed, without knowing who he is +and why he is—the mystical must perforce have a great attraction for +him. To be easily impressed by the mystical is therefore one of his +natural conditions, be it good, bad, or indifferent. When the emotional +nature of human beings is appealed to it is as rational for artists and +poets to address themselves to the love of the mystical as to the love +of the beautiful, and therefore there should be a legitimate place for +mysticism in art and poetry. + +It is almost inconceivable that an educated, well-balanced mind +should never dwell on those immensities still unexplored, and the +innumerable enigmas still unsolved or insoluble, and content itself +with lingering over those comparatively insignificant truths which +science so far has revealed. To what an extent a man remains satisfied +with quasi-explanations of scientific research depends on the strength +of his imagination. It is pardonable if alienists should look upon +imagination as a doubtful blessing; but though it may appear a +dangerous gift in their patients, there can be little doubt that it is +an indispensable attribute to a well-equipped mind. It is the mental +faculty which most distinguishes man from the animals—the one on which +he could with the greatest appearance of legitimacy base his claim to +divine origin. Dogs may dream and horses may see ghosts, but their +hallucinations are vastly different from the imagination of man, which +allows him to receive and retain almost any number of presentations, +to elaborate them into new combinations, thus reconstructing pictures +of the past and daring conceptions of the future, capable of easy +realization. A powerful imagination is essential not only to the +poet and the artist, but to the engineer, the mechanician, the +statesman,—in fact, to all who set themselves a practical task or a +distinct ideal. + +It is the imaginative strength of the scientist which renders him +a pioneer and a discoverer, and without it he is to his science +what the performer of music who cannot compose is to music. From +everyday experience we are justified in believing that the cramming +of the memory, much reading for examinations or other purposes, +and a developed habit of relying on authorities tend to weaken the +imagination in a man. This seems to be confirmed by the theory of +psychologists: that desuetude of a faculty tends to its decay; and +might well be the explanation of the often-confirmed fact that great +discoverers and inventors have seldom emerged from the ranks of the +omnivorous readers of the universities. + +In the same manner we may explain what we have before called the +scientific superstition discernible in so many scientists. The more +they are satisfied with their systems, the more they take nomenclature +and classification for adequate explanation, the less they are +attracted by the spheres into which science has not penetrated or +cannot penetrate. There is this similarity between the scientifically +superstitious and the theologically superstitious—that they both +believe that they have explained all, and they thereby place themselves +beyond the possibility of being right; for the mass of unexpected +facts revealed by science, eclipsing as they do the wildest flight of +the imagination, renders it possible for any man to be right in his +speculations on the secrets of the universe save those men who say that +they know all. + +It is therefore not surprising that a scientist by erudition, and +especially an alienist, who, by dint of studying the mechanism which +connects what some call the soul, and others designate as the trinity +of the consciousness, the judgment, and the will, with the body, has +persuaded himself that there is nothing beyond nerves, cells and the +gray matter, should look with contempt on imagination, and yet more +so on the love of the mystical, and that his ideal man, his “original +type,” should possess so little imagination as to remain unaffected by +the mystical. + +Lack of information and of observation has caused the multitude to +regard a great number of men—distinguished in the eyes of the world +exclusively by their intellectual powers—as non-mystics to such a +degree as to class them as atheists. The majority of such men, though +distinctly at variance with the dogmas and views of established sects, +have been and are, in their inner consciousness, both mystics and +religionists. When in public they have seemingly attacked religion +and mysticism, they have in reality only attacked churches and +superstition. In the judgment of a great many intelligent men the +controversy between Professor Huxley and Dr. Martineau goes far to +confirm this view. When humanity, including scientists, learns to +distinguish between religion and churches, it will be understood that +almost all men in the past and present who have deservedly been called +great, have been religionists, and therefore mystics. + +Let us instance Faraday. He belonged all his life to a sect which must +be classed among the mystics, and he died a believer in its creed. +Are we then to class this keen observer, accurate investigator, and +brilliant logician, this daring pioneer of science, this ingenious +unraveller of nature’s secrets, among the degenerates? If we do, where +should we class average scientists, including Nordau? Or should we +place ourselves in the position of the common-sense German Philistine, +and declare that mysticism is not mysticism when it takes the shape of +the belief of a sect tolerated by the police? + +But is not Faraday’s mysticism perfectly compatible with a sound mind? +He was one of those scientists with unclouded reasoning powers, whose +knowledge—gained by investigation, not from authorities—had taught him +how little he knew of the great mysteries of creation. He recognised +that our emotional cravings cannot be satisfied by science in its +present stage, but only by emotional realization. Hence his religious +attitude towards the great mysterious power of which he knew nothing, +but whose work became more and more manifest as his investigation +proceeded. What wiser course could a man adopt, who was so capable +of distinguishing essence from form, than to give that form to his +religion which had gratified his emotional nature as a child? + +If sound minds may be mystically inclined, if our emotional nature can +be reached by mysticism in poetry and art, and if our emotions are +acknowledged to be receptive to elevating and pleasing impressions, +the pre-Raphaelites could not all have been as degenerate as Nordau +would have us believe. They were, no doubt, emotionalists, mystics, +and even symbolists, and they frankly claimed the right to be regarded +as such. They considered themselves as having a mission, and the fact +that a man throws himself heart and soul into his mission is no sign of +degeneration. + +Now, there are walks in life, callings, missions, which involve no risk +to those who undertake them; there are others that involve great risks. + +Some callings expose a man to bodily harm, others to mental harm. +Nothing could be more uncharitable and cruel than to revile a man, +to attack his reputation, to wound his feelings, and to lower his +self-esteem, because he returns maimed and invalided after having +fought the good fight. + +A shopkeeper, a shoemaker, an author of sensational books, runs but +little risk of damaging either his body or his mind. The sailor, the +miner, the leader of a revolution, exposes himself to great bodily +danger. The man who acquires a vast erudition may dull his imagination +and his judgment; the man who strains his brain to the utmost, who, +perhaps, overstrains it, in the solution of difficult problems, the +man whose mission lies in the domain of the emotions, exposes his mind +to injury. If there be truth in this, mysticism in poetry and art may +cause degeneration in the poet’s or the artist’s mind, especially if it +be a weak one; but to conclude from this that mysticism in art springs +from diseased minds is to confound cause with effect. + +If we accept Nordau’s Philistine definition of art and his views as +to its mission, mysticism would have no place in art or in poetry. +He would certainly exclude it, but in doing so he would contradict +himself glaringly. We have already complained that he does not explain +his standards, and that he does not give his ideals. But from his work +before us, it is evident that the standard by which he would measure +poetry is the work of Goethe and Shakespeare, especially the former. +Goethe owes his fame largely to his _Faust_—a mystical work if ever +there was one. The prologue is religious mysticism, the first part is +diabolism, the second part is arch-mysticism, which so far has resisted +all attempts at interpretation. In the same manner _Hamlet_, _Macbeth_, +and other plays of Shakespeare derive their great charm and their +artistic value largely from mysticism. + +All this however does not prove that either irrational or dishonest +mysticism is acceptable, and much that Nordau says regarding +pre-Raphaelitism should be taken to heart by the camp-followers of +the movement. In this term we include, of course, those painters +who, unable to draw and paint, try to force their pictures upon the +market by sheer bounce; and empty-headed critics who insolently +assume a mental, or, as they would call it, a spiritual, superiority +by writing obscure, unintelligible rigmaroles in praise of pictures +which attract attention by means of nought but their eccentricity. +This class of people cannot be considered as representing the +pre-Raphaelite movement, nor can they be called degenerate in the +sense Nordau means, for there is a method in their degeneracy which +yields pounds, shillings, and pence. We also include in this category +a class of people whose conceit may border on degeneracy, and who +believe that any one who cannot draw and paint is qualified for a +pre-Raphaelite painter, and who sincerely assume and enjoy the position +as misunderstood geniuses. + +As to the crowds in the exhibitions that gather before an +incomprehensible eccentricity made conspicuous by the log-rolling +process, they surely do not all deserve the epithet of degenerates. +Many are drawn there by sheer curiosity; others damn with faint praise, +in order to escape the wrath of the fanatic. There are also, of +course, many who, for the purpose of giving themselves airs, admire +traits of beauty which they really fail to see. The behaviour of these +hypocritical æsthetes is, of course, deplorable, but they yield to a +weakness not confined to the end of our century. Andersen’s story of +the king’s clothes, inspired by a very old German tale, is one of many +evidences of the antiquity of such folly. + +The sincere pre-Raphaelites deserve the sympathy of every thinking man, +though they may be guilty of many imperfections. According to Nordau, +the mission of the painter is to serve as a vehicle of beautiful +impressions to the public. A man who fulfilled this mission might +indeed be called an artist, and his painting might be the limits of +painting as such. But this does not prevent a picture from containing +a story, a moral, or the expression of an emotion, if the painter be a +good story-teller, a true poet, and a sound teacher. If a work of art +can thus fulfil two high purposes instead of one, everybody is a gainer +by it, and the fact that it is the embodiment of two arts instead of +one cannot reasonably be made an objection. The artist who succeeds in +thus blending two arts should surely not be called a degenerate. + +Ruskin did not, as Nordau confesses, advocate any neglect in the art +of painting as such, but he warned artists not to waste their time on +unworthy subjects. He is a philanthropist as well as a writer on art, +and feels aggrieved when the artist neglects so good an opportunity of +teaching as a well-executed painting offers, and yet more when he sees +art abased in order to gratify sensuality or morbid cravings for the +horrible. + +That Ruskin did not so absolutely disregard beautiful pictures which +have no story to tell and no teaching to impart becomes incontestable +when we remember his panegyrics of Turner. + +Victor Hugo in his _Notre Dame de Paris_ makes Claude Frollo say, +when he has a book in his hand and the old cathedral before him, that +the one will kill the other, meaning, of course, that books were +predestined to supersede symbolism in buildings and other arts. Nordau +takes for granted that this has already been done. He sees no good +in works of art giving expression to ideas and emotions which could +so much better be described and more clearly defined in books. But +is there not a great inconsistency in first admitting that art keeps +within its rational limit when it presents the beauties of nature to +the public in such a manner as to make them more evident, which is +equal to teaching that nature is beautiful, and then to say that art +oversteps its limits when it teaches, or attempts to teach, anything +else? + +If we survey all the means available to humanity for the conveyance +of thoughts and emotions, they present a scale which begins by speech +and ends with music. Though it must be acknowledged that speech only +with difficulty lends itself to the expression of one or a considerable +number of interdependent and intertangent complex ideas perfectly +clear in a sound mind, it is however the best means we possess for +lucid expression. Written prose has the same merit as speech, and may +be used to express the driest mathematical facts, as well as the most +poetical imaginings. Verse, we think it will be generally allowed, +is better calculated to convey poetical ideas and expressions, as it +admits of greater liberty, more stirring language, bolder metaphors, +and because rhythm and rhyme, in virtue of their musical qualities, +appeal to the imagination and stir the emotions. + +When to poetry melody is added, it becomes song, a mode of expression +which appeals fully as much to our emotional nature as to our +intellect. When instrumental music is added to song, to evoke emotion +becomes the cardinal object, and intellect receives hardly any +impression. Music without words is the mode of conveying emotions—and +possibly ideas, too subtle, so to say, too spiritual to be analysed by +the intellect—in so distinct a way that the emotions of the composer, +and may be of the performer, are faithfully reproduced in the hearers. +A mutual understanding is thus established between them as clearly as +any understanding arrived at through exhaustive verbal explanation. + +Scientists have endeavoured to explain on materialist lines the charm +exercised by music over us, but their explanations obviously never +touch more than the mechanical motion of the sound-waves and the +receptive mechanism of the ear and the brain. Their dogmatizing is +moreover so dry, halting, and one-sided as to convince musical people +that their attempt at explanation is hopeless. Music belongs to the +sphere of emotions, which lie beyond the ken of science, and will be as +long as scientific progression is hampered by the materialist bias. + +And yet the most unimaginative scientist will not deny that all the +methods of conveying ideas and emotions enumerated in the above scale, +including instrumental music, are legitimate arts. Why then should +there not be the same latitude allowed to the arts appealing to us +through the sight as to those appealing to us through the hearing? If +the architect, sculptor, or painter, or two of them, or even three of +them, combined in collaboration, wishing to convey an impression, or +to evoke an emotion, why should they not be allowed to do so by any +of the means which fall within their sphere? If they should wish to +evoke emotions similar to those evoked by music, and they can do so by +choosing a certain subject, by introducing certain symbols, or even by +recalling sentiments of the past—the time of our first love, our youth, +or even our childhood,—why should they not be free to do so? + +The pre-Raphaelites claim the freedom to thus expand the scope of +pictorial art, to sanctify it, and to make it appeal to the inmost +recesses of our emotional nature; and as the movement was started at +a time when art was in decadence and tended to become subservient, +abroad to pruriency, and at home, to abominable Philistinism, the +pre-Raphaelites deserve a better treatment than they have received at +the hands of Nordau. + +That they should commit mistakes was inevitable. It is probable that +they had not realized completely to themselves the exact results to be +aimed at. Like the composer of music, they wished to convey to others +such of their own emotions as they deemed legitimate, beautiful, and +ennobling, and had to grope in the dark, or to trust to momentary +inspiration, for the means. Being, and wishing to be emotional, they +may have neglected their intellectual powers, forgetting that even +when emotion reigns supreme it can express itself truly only by the +aid of intelligence. Vivid emotions and powerful imaginations are not +in themselves stigmata of degeneration, but rather the signs of a rich +mind, so long as they remain under the control of the intellect. It is +only when they run riot, unheeding the criticism of intellect, that the +balance of the mind is imperilled. + +In their desire to emphasize the spiritual meaning and the emotional +nature of their works, the pre-Raphaelites may have committed the +mistake of neglecting execution, truthfulness to nature, and the laws +of optics. Finding pictures appreciated by the public in virtue of the +subject and the conception, despite faulty treatment, many of them no +doubt have been induced to realize their ideas and emotions on canvas +before they had sufficiently trained their eye and their hand. + +Every educated Englishman will understand that Nordau somewhat distorts +facts and conveys wrong impressions in the account he gives of the +movement. Though the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was dissolved, the +movement has not been so devoid of results as he insinuates. Though the +first exhibition of the Brotherhood was also the last one, pictures +by the same artist have been constantly exhibited, and some of them +have fetched fabulous prices. He says that Millais, amongst others, +has retained that characteristic of the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood +consisting of minuteness in details, draperies, and backgrounds. Any +one who has seen Millais’ striking portraits, his “Cherry Ripe,” +“Bubbles,” “Caller Herrings,” and other pictures could not possibly +make such an assertion. We must, of course, allow for the circumstance +that Nordau’s knowledge of the pictures he criticises is second-hand. + +It is evident that he has not seen Millais’ latest pictures. Had he +done so, he would not have jeopardized his whole system of reasoning +by holding Millais up as an example of degeneration. Here, as in many +other cases, Nordau, while exhibiting an enormous erudition, reveals a +remarkable want of logic. To call Millais degenerate is a desperate way +out of a dilemma in which he has landed himself by asserting, on the +one hand, that those who paint pictures such as Millais painted years +ago are people with degenerate brains, and, on the other, that people +who produce pictures such as Millais paints now are people of sound +mind. If degeneration is the first step towards a high, normal, and +sound development, Nordau has been guilty of much ado about nothing. + +Had he ever beheld Holman Hunt’s “Shadow of the Cross” even in an +engraving, he could not in his description of it have committed the +mistakes he has unless his mind is impervious to pictorial impressions. +He says that “the shadow of his (Christ’s) body falling on the ground +shows the form of a cross.” This is not true. The shadow of Christ’s +body falls on the wall, where a tool shelf and suspended tools simulate +a cross. Nordau’s erroneous description will certainly prejudice those +who have not seen the picture against Holman Hunt. + +It is natural that the materialist, the pseudo-scientifically +superstitious, and the Philistine tendencies of our age, so eminently +embodied in the mind of Nordau, and against which the pre-Raphaelite +school is a protest, should militate against a fair appreciation of the +tentative departure of these innovators. + +The essence of their mysticism and their symbolism is their belief +in what, for lack of a better term, has been called their spiritual +life—the belief that the mind is not a condition of matter, but +that our thinking _Ego_ might have existed before it was incarnated, +and that it will live after our body has decayed. Could our earthly +existence be proved finite with certainty, could any future existence +be proved a vain dream, incompatible with reason, then indeed would +pre-Raphaelitism be the beginning of folly, as, in fact, would most of +the things which now tend to lighten and beautify our lives. We shall +not here endeavour to determine the five-thousand-year-old discussion +regarding eternal life. We shall simply point out that the proofs on +which the so-called materialists base their conclusions are not so +absolutely convincing as to stigmatize their opponents as lunatics. + +Any one who has glanced at the development of science from old times +up to the present is well aware of that weakness in the mind of +scientists—especially the non-pioneer scientists—which induces them +to believe that the conclusions they have arrived at, generally in +opposition to predecessors, are the whole truth and nothing but the +truth. For thousands of years it has been the same. For each step +that science has climbed upwards, its votaries, with a few brilliant +exceptions, have believed themselves to be at the top, and have with +scorn rejected, as sheer folly, any suggestion that the step on which +they stand is rotten and that there are sounder steps higher up. The +scientists of other days in their turn looked upon Columbus, Galileo, +and Tycho Brahe as fools. A hundred years ago the scientists would have +laughed to scorn any one who had told them that their senses deceived +them with regard to light, darkness, colours, silence and sound, +and that all these presentations received by our senses were simply +movement or manifestations of energy. The theory which regarded atoms +as minute subdivisions of matter is quite a modern dogma, and yet it is +already tottering to its fall. More rational scientists already speak +of atoms as centres of force, an expression which twenty years ago was +regarded as rank heresy. If the theory that atoms are centres of force +is accepted, with all its consequences, science is on the threshold of +a new departure which may cause the materialists to look small indeed; +for if what to our senses appears as matter is a condition of force, +instead of force being a condition of matter, a vista entirely opposite +to that of the materialists is open to science—a vista disclosing +possibilities before which we might well stand in awe. + +Though it is incontestable that invention and discovery have been +enormously accelerated by often apparently wild suggestions by the +imagination, by emotion, and by instinct, it is especially such +suggestions which are visited by the most furious onslaughts on the +part of the superstitious scientists. When these reject as utter folly +imaginings prompted by faith or any other emotions, it is because such +suggestions are not only entirely out of harmony with the scientific +ideas of the moment, but because they appear so extraordinary, so +utterly destructive to the views familiar to them. They would be +less positive in face of suggestions and speculations justified by +emotion, if they did not constantly forget that every scientific +discovery reveals facts which are not only diametrically opposed to +opinions previously held, but also so marvellous as to baffle human +understanding. Bearing recent scientific discovery in mind, no one +will deny the folly of the man who a hundred years ago would have +prophetically declared: “What we now have proved true and reasonable +will in a hundred years be proved error and folly, and what to us now +appears as sheer madness and rank impossibility will then be scientific +truth.” + +Any contemporary scientist, unaffected by scientific superstition, +would unhesitatingly acknowledge the probability of present scientific +dogmas being declared errors, and that what would now appear as the +hallucinations of an overheated imagination may become scientific truth +a century hence. + +Though the narrow-minded scientist who takes up his stand on the so +far explored speck of the universe has no right to blame the artist or +poet who, guided by emotion and faith, plunges his imagination into +the surrounding abyss of the mystical, which no well-balanced mind +can ignore, it would be both unjust and absurd to blame the prosaic +and plodding scientist who concentrates his whole mind on scientific +details, and, to use a happy metaphor of Nordau himself, is building a +bridge, arch by arch, out into the unknown. It is good that the Alpine +climber should concentrate his attention on the steps he hews in the +ice and the safe resting-point he can find for his feet, and not allow +his mind to wander in the dark precipice below him or among the lofty +peaks he hopes to reach. Man being two personalities, one emotional, +the other intellectual, stands in need of the services of both the +logical scientist and the emotional artist and poet. + +Once it has been recognised that the emotions may be conveyed by +pictorial art, we cannot quarrel with the _raison d’être_ of the +pre-Raphaelites, though we might disagree with them as to the means +they are using. They can however justly demand that those who criticise +their means of expression should show the possibility of better ones. +Holman Hunt has aimed at evoking by his pictures a feeling of respect +and admiration for religion, and in many cases has succeeded; and +the means he has employed are a reverential treatment, a style of +old associated with religious representations and suggestions of the +supernatural. Burne Jones, whose object seems to be to emphasize the +higher significance of our spiritual being over our bodily, does so +by giving us pictures of maidens whose beauty is of a kind devoid of +all those attractions which coquetry, roguishness, animal spirits, +and exuberance of health may confer. Their vacant and inward look +suggests a contemplative mood and a yearning to see the invisible. As +if to still further quicken the sluggish imagination of the masses, he +cloaks his figures in draperies and surrounds them by objects which of +old have been used in representing holy people. He comes as near as +possible to the representation of wingless angels, without presenting +anything that could not be seen in reality. + +Such pictures may not appeal to everybody, but we have overwhelming +evidence that they do appeal to a great number; and if the belief +in a superiority over animals, in a spiritual personality, in a +responsibility for our development, and in a future life contributes +to our happiness and exercises an ennobling influence on our race, the +pictures of Burne Jones cannot be the work of a degenerate aiming at +the degeneration of others. + +What by many is considered Rossetti’s masterpiece, “Dante’s Dream,” +would by a painter, in his capacity of craftsman, be found to contain +many defects, and only one great merit—exquisite colouring. The +conception is eccentric, the surroundings are symbolic and mystical, +and the anatomy is incorrect. There are faults of perspective, some +of them glaring. For instance, the left shoulder of the angel of +love who stands on the left hand of Beatrice, facing her and bending +over her, is partly hidden by Beatrice’s right shoulder, which could +not be possible in reality unless the two figures had only two +dimensions—height and breadth, with no thickness. And yet this picture +has been bought by the Corporation of Liverpool for a large sum, and is +considered as a thing of joy and beauty by a mass of people among whom +Nordau could detect but a few with malformations of the heads and the +ears, and who in the whole of their life have given abundant proof of +practical rationalism far greater even than that of the superstitious +peasant he instances as having a sound mind. + +The charm of the picture does not lie in the execution, but in the +conception. It is probable that it evokes exactly the same emotion felt +by Rossetti while painting it. The subject being a dream, the many +symbols tend to throw the spectator into the mood in which the picture +should be contemplated. There is an atmosphere of Sabbath—presentiment +of bliss—which is produced by the introduction of such presentations +which in our youth or childhood have been associated with that day. +The artist has succeeded in intensifying the belief in the sacredness +of love and the consolations which, amid the troubles of life, may be +drawn from the faith in a spiritual existence. + +The conceiving and representing of pictures like this, the outcome of +intense emotion, might well endanger the balance of the painter’s mind, +but the soothing influence they exercise on the spectator would surely +assuage rather than excite any restless mind which, deprived of a +profound philosophy and a far-reaching scientific knowledge, must needs +cling to faith. + +The painter who produces on the canvas a beautiful scene from nature, +beautiful flowers, or other beautiful objects, pleases and elevates +the beholders of the picture. Nordau admits as much. But he does not +analyse the methods by which this result is accomplished. He would +probably not deny that one of the feelings which such a picture calls +forth is a sympathy with nature and the Creator, and that this sympathy +favours the conception of the distinct idea that the great power of the +universe suggested by natural beauties—as the painter is suggested by +the picture—loves the beautiful, and consequently the good. + +The signification of the pre-Raphaelites in the progress of art is +that they strive to teach, in the production of groups and figures, +similar emotions and thoughts to those produced by the representation +of natural beauties. They have therefore contributed considerably +to the elevation of art so far as aims and subjects go. If they +believe that a purpose can be attained only by the imitation of the +unskilled pre-Raphaelite painters, by violating nature, by eliminating +perspective, and by apotheosizing ugliness, they do not further that +regeneration which we believe they are striving for. But there is every +reason to hope that modern art will come out ennobled from the crisis +into which it has been plunged, and that rising painters will see their +way to paint reverently and realize their noblest aims and highest +ideals, represented in naturally beautiful forms, painted with the +greatest skill of a painter proud of his craft. + +Whether this hope be realized or not, it seems to us that a +regeneration of art would be impossible without the attempts at new +departure which Nordau has mistaken for degeneration. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +_THE BANKRUPTCY OF SCIENCE_ + + +In his chapter entitled “Symbolism” Nordau seeks confirmation for his +theory of degeneration in the tendency, more or less perceptible all +the world over, on the part of contemporary artists and poets, to +have recourse to symbols in giving expression to ideas and emotions +impossible to convey in ordinary language. Every one who has had to +do with intricate syntheses of ideas, even of the driest and the most +clearly definable kind, is well aware that language often appears +inadequate to convey such syntheses from one mind to another. How +much more difficult then must it be to convey in exact language a +presentation conjured up from the imagination, an artistic conception, +a poetical mood, a strong emotion, or a chord of emotions, to use an +expression that may in itself serve as an illustration. The use of +symbols, as we have just used the word chord, has not only enormously +widened the capability of language, but has rendered it far more lucid, +laconic, and agreeable. + +A modern orator, or writer, could not possibly dispense with symbols, +for without them his speeches or his books would be intensely wordy, +tiresome, and difficult to comprehend. Language is constantly being +enriched by new symbols, either invented and introduced by authors, or +taken from such literary works as have become classic. Often an author +creates a character or an idea which typifies characters and situations +frequently met with, and for which symbols have long been needed. Thus, +for instance, Andersen’s _Ugly Duckling_ became a symbol largely used +as soon as his fable was published, and when Ibsen’s _Doll’s House_ was +played for the first time in London, one newspaper, which, by the way, +took Nordau’s view of Ibsen and declared his characters impossible, in +another article, if we remember aright, on the subject of marriage, +used with great effect Ibsen’s Nora as a symbol. + +But such symbols are as old as language, and the new tendency of +_littérateurs_ who call themselves, or who are called, symbolists, +is not to invent and to use symbols that stand for well-known and +perfectly undisputed characters and situations, but such as represent +new ideas, difficult to define, or undefinable, because incomplete, and +concerning emotions. The same authors are also prone to use symbols +for things, beings, and powers, the existence of which has not been +ascertained by the senses, but simply guessed at, or evolved from +consciousness. + +Many such symbols were not symbols when first introduced into the +language, but nouns that stood for things, or beings, supposed to be +perfectly real. Thus, for instance, the word “devil,” which in olden +times stood for a satanic majesty, adorned with horns and tail, has +now become a convenient symbol, a thing only too real, but covering +such immense ground, and presenting such innumerable aspects, that a +symbol expressing the whole conception is extremely convenient. Nothing +is commoner than to hear a clergyman use the words “the devil” in his +sermon, though it be part of his creed and of his teachings that God is +so omnipresent throughout the universe that there is not a square inch +for a personal devil to place his foot on. + +It is this kind of symbolism which Nordau is bent on crucifying as +degeneration. As we have already said, there is a general tendency +among artists to indulge in it, in order to produce moods and suggest +emotions. Thus, for example, in the picture spoken of in our last +chapter, “Dante’s Dream,” an atmosphere of love is represented by red +birds, and sleep is represented by poppies strewn on the floor. In +Rossetti’s picture Nordau would have taken objection to such symbols, +though he seems reconciled to the symbols used by Raphael and his +school, and would probably not object to those of German allegorical +painters and sculptors. + +It is significant that the symbolism which he most vehemently holds up +as a stigma of degeneration, is that of the modern French poets who +have made religious symbolism their speciality. It is not difficult to +see why these have been chosen as the scapegoats for the symbolism of +every art and every country. It is true they boldly call themselves +symbolists. But this would not be enough to elicit from Nordau a +chapter of forty-five pages. Besides calling themselves symbolists, +they have the audacity to be French. Their symbolism is religious, and, +what is worse, is Roman Catholic, and, what is worst of all, it is +antagonistic to science. + +Though the now prevailing love for symbols does not always manifest +itself in a religious way, it is natural for it to find its widest +application in speeches and writings on religion. Religion avowedly +deals with things not of this earth, is based not on knowledge and +investigation, but on faith, and appeals not to our intellect, but to +our emotional nature. + +The French symbolists have created greater sympathy with their +religious views than might have been expected in our rational times +because, unlike the Catholic clergy of the past, they treat as symbols +what before were considered as representations of actual facts. They +are not orthodox; and if the Church of Rome is anxious, as it seems +to be, to turn this neo-Catholicism into a means of resuming its +influence, it can only do so by enormously modernizing its fundamental +ideas. It will be interesting to see whether the Church of Rome will +accept the symbolists as co-operators, or finally spurn them as +heretics. + +What especially rouses the animosity of Nordau against the symbolists +is the fact that the new movement is based on the supposition that +science is bankrupt, or, in other words, that it has failed in all its +promises to humanity; that it has usurped the throne of religion under +false pretences; and that its incapacity to supplant religion has been +demonstrated by the latest scientific discoveries. According to the +idea underlying the French symbolist movement, science has during the +present century aimed at the destruction of religion, and has caused +religion to be neglected, discredited, and scorned. + +Such a movement founded on such premises and aiming at such aims must +be of the greatest interest to any man who watches attentively the +development of our race. To study its true cause, its real nature, and +its real aims should be the desire of every earnest investigator; and +if Nordau falls back on obloquy, indelicate insinuations, and blunt +accusations, after the fashion of the militant _literati_ of the past, +the reason of his animosity is easily explained. + +Nordau, like many scientists before him and with him, has taken sides +in the absurd fight—the _querelle allemande_—between science and +religion, which has done so much to discredit both. To the unprejudiced +observer, any scientist who joins in the fray is induced to do so +by his inability to distinguish between religion and church, and +consequently to realize that the whole progress of science during the +present century has had the result, amongst many others, of justifying +such an attitude of mind towards God, the original cause, universal +energy, or whatever scientists choose to call it, which religion +implies. + +Whoever distinguishes between church and religion will at once +understand that an ascendency of religious views throughout the world +may be perfectly compatible with the decay of sectarian dogmas, and +that therefore many phenomena which appear to indicate the decay of +religious views—such as church-going, for example—may in reality mean a +deeper religious life. If we take a comprehensive view of that progress +in religious views which has been accelerated by science, we shall find +that church-going, the rosary, and the images of the saints indicate +the preliminary stages of a religious evolution which in its later +development requires truer expressions. + +So long as we have such a number of sects and churches, many of which +differ essentially, and all of which differ to some extent, it cannot +affect any one’s feelings to be told that church is not religion. +It is this truth that science has accentuated, and the inevitable +consequence has been that the churches, though they at first might +have vehemently opposed certain scientific facts, and yet more certain +rash speculations founded on them, have afterwards quietly striven to +modify their views and their dogmas so that they should not clash with +absolute scientific truths. That many such attempts at reconciliation +between science and churches have been feeble and absurd does not +disprove, but confirms, the existence of the above tendency. Though +perhaps it would be difficult to give a true definition of religion +as distinguished from church, the conception which every thinking man +forms of it is probably clear enough to allow him to realize that some +churches are farther from the ideal than others. + +If it be true that the progress of science has been instrumental in +impelling the development of churches in the direction of a future +religion of ideal beauty and ideal truth, and that such a religion must +necessarily be in complete harmony with scientific facts, then the +animosity of science and religion is to a sound mind incomprehensible. + +Yet Nordau unhesitatingly takes for granted that religion and science +are naturally antagonistic. He takes very seriously the assumption of +the French neo-Catholics that henceforth science will have to make +room for religion. Had he any sense of humour, he would not have thus +betrayed how _jalousie de métier_ animates him to no small extent. He +mixes up science and the scientists in a most amusing manner when he +compares the neglected scientist with the idolized saint, and asks, +“What saintly legend is as beautiful as the life of an enquirer who +spends his existence bending over the microscope?” Does our alienist +aspire to go down to posterity with a halo around his head? He regrets +the good old time when the daily Press of that date said, “We live in +a scientific age,” when “the news of the day reported the travels and +the marriages of scientists, the _feuilleton_ novels contained witty +allusions to Darwin, etc.” + +Nordau completely denies that there is any foundation for the assertion +of the French symbolists that science has become bankrupt—that it has +not fulfilled its promises to humanity. In order to refute it, he gives +us the long list of scientific achievements to which scientists who +militate against religion have accustomed us, beginning with spectrum +analysis and finishing up with instantaneous photography. He demands +for science the respect and trust of humanity, not only on the ground +of what science has accomplished, but also on the ground of what it +will accomplish. + +His faith in his mission deserves sincere admiration, and proves him to +be one of those earnest enthusiasts who alone can advance humanity. But +he does not see that his prophecies regarding future achievements are +not science, but faith and religion—based, it is true, on reasonable +grounds, but still faith and religion. + +Nor does he see that his proud asseveration of the achievements of +science, and his prophecy with regard to its future, do not constitute +a refutation to the cry of the symbolists that science is bankrupt. +The promises which the symbolists refer to as being dishonoured by +science, are not of the kind that could possibly be redeemed by the +achievements referred to in Nordau’s splendid list. They allude to +promises not really made by science, but by rash and prejudiced +scientists. These have over and over again proclaimed that religion had +been supplanted by science, and that science could, or else soon would, +explain all those mysteries which religion claimed to explain or to +symbolize, such as first causes, final aims, existence or non-existence +before birth and after death, the origin of evil, the essence of +morality, and so on. Science, according to them, was not only to +bring about perfect serenity in man’s mind regarding himself and the +universe, but to satisfy the mysterious longings and the uncontrollable +emotions, either hereditary, or part of man’s nature, which hitherto +religion alone had satisfied. Science was also to supply rational +motives for purity, morality, self-sacrifice, and all the virtues +and exertions which are indispensable to the elevation of our race. +Finally, science was to transform us into an ideal race, living in an +ideal manner, thus substituting a terrestrial heaven for humanity, for +the spiritual heaven which religion promised for the individual. + +Nordau cannot blame the scientists who made these promises; for the +whole of his book shows that he is in entire sympathy with them. + +There was a time when the educated world believed in the arrogant +promises of the scientists; when it confidently expected that +mysteries, so far unexplained, would be cleared up within a reasonable +time, and that systems and speculation, which were to take the place +of religion, would gradually be so amended as to become capable of +fulfilling so great an object. + +But the rapid scientific discoveries which followed one upon each +other, far from tending to fulfil the promises of the scientists, had +the effect of persuading the world that science was not going to keep +any of these promises. For each mystery it unravelled revealed a series +of new mysteries behind it, and the explanatory task of science grew +with its own progress. In fact, while the explanations increased by +simple arithmetical progression, the mysteries rose up in geometrical +progression. + +At the same time better schools, public lectures, and innumerable +periodicals initiated the masses into the secrets of the scientific +freemasonry, and people began to perceive that what they, in their +awe of science, believed to be perfect knowledge of the very essence +of the world-phenomenon was only a series of acute observations, an +intelligent classification, backed by arbitrary speculations and the +superstitious faith in the omnipotence of science, culminating simply +in a barren religion of humanity. + +As to eternity and infinity of space, all that science could do +was to tell the masses not to trouble their heads about them; as +to causality, they were asked to regard it simply as “a form of +thought which had nothing to do with the phenomena.” As to morality, +the religion of humanity seemed extremely untrustworthy: for the +removal of all personal responsibility, and the certainty of complete +annihilation after death, seemed to give the strong-minded and clever +people the strongest possible inducement to make their fellow-beings +tools for their own happiness. The promised earthly paradise was not +only thousands of years ahead in time, but was to be constituted on +principles which even a superficial knowledge of economy and sociology +was bound to expose as an Inferno. + +It was natural then that a great number of people, unable to climb to +the height of abstract and unsatisfactory reasoning of the kind that +the scientists had attained to, and whose emotional nature utterly +rebelled against a progression which was intended constantly to violate +their best instincts, should spurn science, which offered them no other +compensation than freedom from personal responsibility. + +It was not only the hollow arrogance of the scientists and the failure +of science to fulfil the promises of its superstitious votaries which +had created disgust with scientific atheism: the practical results of +the anti-religious tendencies became alarmingly apparent; experience +began to prove that the discarding of all personal responsibility did +not produce the _ultra_ man—_der Uebermensch_—of which the scientists +claimed to be the prototypes. + +Many of them had been in the habit of speaking scornfully of those +selfish natures who live irreproachable lives, and who devote +themselves to the promotion of the good of their fellow-men under the +impression that in a future state they would reap their reward. The +atheist-scientist represented himself as a man of different metal: he +was fully as moral as the religionist; he spent his life in serving +humanity, well knowing that his self-control and self-sacrifice +would bring him no reward; he did his duty, not induced by any mean, +religious consideration, but because he was a perfect man. + +The lesser mortals, those from whose ranks the symbolists are +recruited, began to entertain doubts of the infallibility of these +first-fruits of the religion of humanity. The very arrogance of these +perfect men told against them. If they disbelieved in the rewards of a +future life, they were not averse to the rewards in this, and eagerly +accepted the money and the distinction their works brought them. There +was especially this about them: they unhesitatingly attacked that +which the masses could alone rely on for moral guidance, equanimity, +consolation, and encouragement—religion—while the religion of humanity +was thousands of years in the future, and thus left the people a prey +to mental bewilderment, doubt, and unrestrained passions. The scientist +stood accused of acting like a man depriving a cripple of his only +crutch, against the promise of supplying his remote descendants with +better ones. + +But atheism had a far worse effect on ordinary mortals, who had not +to sustain a reputation as apostles of the new scientific creed. +Convinced that no personal responsibility attached to them, and caring +little for what would happen to the next generation, or still less to +generations thousands of years hence, they tried to persuade themselves +that conscience was an inherited weakness, developed by evolution, or +a product of wrong religious teaching. Wishing to rise above such a +weakness, they did their best to silence conscience, and to live for +self-gratification. In this manner selfishness, if not Egomania, was +strongly developed. + +Capitalists and politicians strove to acquire wealth and power, +regardless of other people’s rights, of their own conscience, and of +their sense of honour, so long as their dishonour was known only to +themselves. Society became frivolous, and exhibited the same stigmata +of degeneration noticed before in decaying commonwealths. Art became +lascivious and corrupting; literature became realistic and offensive. +In fact, a host of clever men who ought to have been benefactors of +their race cared not to what extent they ruined and demoralized their +fellow-beings so long as they safeguarded their own health, their own +future, and their social position. + +The working classes being told by men, far superior to them in +intellect and education, that their only chance was in their lives here +on earth, and that death was annihilation, began to sympathize with +violent Nihilists and Anarchists, and were less averse to risk their +lives, if it were only to avenge themselves on those who deprived them +of their terrestrial happiness. + +But it was not only in the effect on their fellow-beings that the +neo-Catholics, the symbolists, and their sympathizers all over +the world beheld the results of scientific atheism. Many of these +themselves became “frightful examples” of these results. Nordau commits +a great mistake in studying the French symbolists as authors and poets. +It is as children of their times that they should be studied. He looks +upon them as causes of the symbolist movement, whereas we should +have regarded them as the indicators of a remarkable stage in the +development of our race. + +It was inevitable that the theories of the scientists should have been +accepted more widely in France than in any other civilized country. In +the English-speaking countries the Churches and sects had not assumed +the same uncompromising attitude with regard to the mediæval doctrines +as the Church of Rome. They had gradually receded from one contested +point after another and many of their old forms and texts were given +a more liberal interpretation. Urged on by the example of the Broad +Church, the Congregationalists, and especially by the Unitarians, the +clergy and the ministers ceased their opposition to any established +scientific facts, though they rejected scientific speculations. The +influence of the scientists in the English-speaking countries tended +therefore to modernize religion, instead of bringing it into contempt. + +In Germany, where the people are slow to oppose any authority, and +where they are extremely shy of their real religious opinions, +scientific atheism simply encouraged the free-thinkers existing there +of old and induced a mass of young men to masquerade as free-thinkers +who in reality held no opinions at all, and who were destined to become +devout in their old age. + +In Italy and Spain the teachings of the scientists only somewhat +strengthened the hands of the Liberals, but produced no effect on the +Ultramontanes. In Russia, where the nobility and the middle classes +had for a long time been free-thinkers, or perhaps non-thinkers, in +regard to religious questions, the religion of humanity affected only +that portion of the people which was already under the influence of +Nihilism, and tended to render them more reckless. + +In France however, and perhaps in such countries as are +directly influenced by French views—for instance, Belgium and +Switzerland,—circumstances were different. The atheism which broke out +with the first French Revolution had begun to subside, the nobility +and the upper classes were the allies of Rome partly by conviction +and partly from policy. In the country districts the _curés_ had +resumed their influence over the peasantry, but the labouring class +in the towns was divided into two camps, the free-thinkers and the +Ultramontanes; and the difference between them was emphasized by the +circumstance that the Ultramontanes were generally conservative in +siding with the powers that be, while the free-thinkers were more or +less extreme Republicans, Socialists, or Communists. + +Such was the situation in France when the influence of the scientists +on religious opinion began to make itself felt there. The materialist +views were eagerly taken up by the Bohemians of Paris and by the +extreme wing of the Republican Press. The upper classes read, or +skimmed, the English scientists, and up to the beginning of the +Franco-German war the German philosophers were much in vogue amongst +the upper classes and in literary circles. In this fashion the Church +of Rome had to face an attack differing widely from the French +Revolution. Then the corruption, and the siding of the Church with +those who were regarded as the enemies of the country, exposed it +to open violence prompted by strongly roused passions. During the +latter days of the Second Empire it was assailed in its dogmas with +arms borrowed from scientific research and speculation. The latter +attack was by far the more dangerous. The discontent with the Imperial +Government did much to draw the urban working classes into the ranks +of the free-thinkers, where the theories of the scientists confirmed +them in their new atheism. Parisian society had become atheistic, and +the whole male population of the middle class prided themselves on +their freedom from all religious prejudices. What remained of religion +in France was represented by the old nobility, who had a political +interest in being religious; by the peasants, who were supposed to be +too stupid to grasp the new scientific truths; by old men, who had not +the courage to face the grave without the consolation of religion; and +by the women, to whom, it was confessed even by the most debauched +_roués_, religion gave an extra charm. + +When the Third Republic was launched it had a strong atheistic +character, and the working classes in all the cities, the sincere +free-thinkers, patriots, and philanthropists, hoped that under +a Republican form of government the religion of humanity of the +scientists would at last have a fair trial. But they were destined to +bitter disappointment. The new Republic turned out to be _bourgeois_ +in the worst sense of the word. Politics passed into a profession. +Politicians and administrators became corrupt. Scandals multiplied. +Even the Press was unable to show clean hands. Wealth became +all-powerful, and the plutocrats acquired an enormous influence which +they did not hesitate to use to their own advantage. Speculators +and adventurers pulled the strings of the home, and especially of +the colonial, policy, and in order to further private interests the +indebtedness of the State was carried to such a point as to threaten +the most gigantic financial catastrophe the world has ever witnessed. +In the meantime the working classes and even the agriculturists +naturally suffered from the result of a system of government which +disregarded their interests. The proletariat of the cities grew, labour +troubles became frequent, wages fell, and poverty rapidly increased. + +While this growing penury invaded the homes of the working and +lower middle class of a nation which has only partially realized +the happiness and healthy influence flowing from decent and moral +homes, scientific atheism took possession of the minds of the people, +especially of the men. It urged them to make the most of their lives, +and enticed them into a whirlpool of dissipation. + +Scientific atheism was bound to produce a vast increase in immorality +in a country like France, where the Church of Rome, in order to enhance +its influence over the people, favours unhappy relations between the +sexes. The clergy do all they can to estrange the sexes prior to +marriage, and thus prevent pure love and love-marriages, while they +encourage _mariages de convenance_. They are animated no doubt by the +best intentions, but, living themselves in enforced celibacy, have no +idea to what an extent they thus undermine the morality of the people. + +As love counts for little in the tying of the matrimonial knot, and the +_dot_ counts for much, French unendowed girls stand a poor chance of +ever getting married. This exclusion of an enormous number of the best +women from the marriage market explains, to a large extent, the many +irregular households to be met with in France. The fact that lovable +and high-souled women accept the position of mistresses has largely +tended to multiply mock marriages. The refusal on the part of the +Church of Rome to permit divorce, and the lovelessness of the regular +alliances, tend in the same direction. The sum total of all this is +that a majority of Frenchwomen have to choose between an unhappy +married life without love, and an immoral one with it. Those who are +forced into the former in a great many cases seek consolation in an +illicit _liaison_; those who drift into the latter become debauched. +While thus the young, respectable, and pure-minded girls are relegated +to schools and nunneries and excluded from all association with +young men, among these licentious pleasure often takes the place of +romantic love. Hence physically and morally unhealthy lives, absence of +happiness, craving for excitement, morbid passions, pessimism, contempt +for life, depraved tastes, hysteria. + +Scientific atheism had however only aggravated a state of things +created by sacerdotal influence on social habits. But it was only +natural that a nation, so biassed in social questions as France, should +ascribe the decay of morality and of so many other virtues to the +weakening of that influence which for centuries had proclaimed itself, +and had been considered by the masses as the only check upon wickedness +among great and small alike. + +Hosts of young men who entered life with noble aspirations to fight for +high ideals, soon perceived, when left to shift for themselves, that +the society around them irresistibly opposed the realization of their +hopes. They found it difficult, almost impossible, to reconcile success +with self-esteem, love with morality, and their poetical aspirations +with their manner of living. Many, in despair of happiness and success, +or in order to forget their crumbled illusions, threw themselves into +a feverish quest for excitement, in which health of body and mind were +jeopardized. + +Awakening to the full consciousness of the depth of their fall, they +could not fail to see that the social system under which they lived +was largely responsible for their miseries. In looking back over +their wasted lives they saw nought but shattered hopes. What they had +forfeited were a happy and vigorous youth, transports of romance, the +love of a pure-minded woman, a strong and active manhood, a chivalrous +fight for the good, the pure, the true, and the beautiful, the respect +of their fellow-men, an ideal home. + +The social conditions which they held responsible for their miserable +career, and even for the regret they experienced, could not be laid at +the door of an Emperor or a dynasty: for their country was governed by +universal suffrage. Finding government, legislation, institutions, and +social conditions vitiated, they had to blame Society. They found that +Society was atheistic, and was deprived of the only check and guide +that came within their ken—religion. They were filled with an intense +longing to destroy the atheism which science had created, and to return +to a belief which would re-endow Society with moral order, health, +romance, love, purity, and beautiful emotions. + +Science was the enemy, as under the Empire the priest was the enemy. +To discredit it was the first essential step. When therefore the +actual power of science, its actual possibilities, became popularized, +and each successive scientific discovery rendered the prophecies of +the superstitious scientists more and more preposterous, the French +symbolists took up the cry that science was bankrupt. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +_SYMBOLISM AND LOGIC_ + + +The French symbolists, and all poets and artists who move in the +world of emotions, are invited by Nordau to “take their place at the +table of science, where there is room for all.” Were they to accept +the invitation, how would the emotional nature of our race find +expression? Would it be possible, or wise, to ignore emotions in face +of the fact that our lives are essentially emotional? Or does Nordau +push his scientific superstition to such a point as to believe that +human emotions can ever be investigated by means of the lancet, the +microscope, and the thermometer? In spite of his sneer at Rossetti’s +remark regarding his indifference as to whether the sun turned round +the earth or the earth turned round the sun, he cannot fail to +acknowledge that what humanity yearns for is beautiful and pleasing +emotions, not scientific facts. The glorious sunshine, the balmy +breeze, the radiant flowers, the inscrutable attractions of woman, her +love, her esteem, her faith, the affection of children, the confidence +of our fellow-beings, our trust in the good, our struggle against +evil—such are the elements of life and happiness. Science acquires all +its importance from being the means by which beautiful and pleasing +emotions are safeguarded, and unpleasant emotions are avoided. When +science mistakes its mission, when it attempts to distort and vilify +their expressions, it has become unreal and fatal. + +Nordau wishes us to regard science—progressing as it has done by +replacing old errors of our senses by new errors of our senses—as +embodying all facts worth noticing, and to disregard emotions which are +eternally unchangeable. + +To turn our back upon emotions and to take our place at the table of +science means to ignore all that is beautiful, lovable, ennobling, and +hopeful, to shut our eyes to the charms of form, colour, motion, and +our ears to music, and to concentrate our attention upon the repast +spread on the table of science: the pleasure of discovering bacteria in +human tissue, the curiosity of counting the throbs of a frog’s heart +after being torn from the living body, the sensation of ascertaining +the effect of the gastric juices on the foot of a living rabbit +inserted into a living dog’s stomach. + +We take no side in the question of vivisection, or any other scientific +methods, but without in the least minimizing the great services +rendered, and to be rendered, by science to humanity, we must express +our astonishment that any sound mind, knowing what scientific methods +are, and must be, can seriously suggest that scientific investigation +should supersede art and poetry. If we believed in degeneration, such +opinions would be the first examples of it we should quote. + +Poets and philosophers who deal with emotions, so to say with +immaterial phenomena, impalpable to every one of our senses, but +demonstrated as eternally real by their effects, must needs make use +of symbols, or, to be more exact, of more symbols, vaguer symbols, +and bolder symbols than those which naturally enter into language. To +deny them this right is equal to denying the mathematician the use +of the letter _X_, which stands for unknown quantities, and which is +handled by him as dexterously as if it were the most familiar object +in the world. If human beings were not allowed to speak about what +their imagination conjures up, what their feelings prompt, and what +irresistible instincts point to, they would be brought alarmingly near +to the level of the beast. + +The French symbolists being poets, might not have formulated into +distinct thoughts what we have said above, but they have certainly +felt it all, and much more. They have felt themselves surrounded by +undefined and undefinable _X’s_ of far greater moment to their lives, +to their happiness, and to their best instincts, than all the known +and half-known quantities of science. In attempting to give expression +to their feelings and to their thoughts regarding the all-important +unknown, and to evoke among their fellow-beings an interest in them, +they have found themselves justified in using any means, including +symbolism, for their purpose. + +Nordau has entertained no such considerations in dealing with the +French symbolists. In obedience to his professional prejudices, he +looks for no other causes, no other influences, than those that can be +found in the mechanism of their brains. This is all the more amazing +as he over and over again recognises that external circumstances, +conditions of life and habits, exercise a strong influence on the +brain, or, in other words, that the mechanism which connects the _Ego_ +with matter may be influenced by the _Ego_. The result of his criticism +presents therefore a want of fairness which to the English mind is +especially objectionable. + +The manner in which he pries into the private life and antecedents +of Paul Verlaine, and the indelicate manner in which he refers to +the personal appearance of the poet, impress us English people as so +many unfair means of giving plausibility to his conclusions. When a +hunchback is good-humoured enough to make fun of his own deformity, +those of gentle feelings sympathize all the more with his misfortune, +and become all the more anxious not to refer to it. When a poet, in +his love of truth and in his anxiety to rouse a certain emotion, makes +confessions, when he instances his own sad experiences and failings, +when he, so to say, throws himself into the flames on the altar of +truth, we in England count it indelicate and unfair to base criticism +on facts thus revealed. Had Nordau read Verlaine’s poetry with an +unbiassed mind, he could not have failed to be struck by the extent to +which the poet typifies the movement going on around him: his failings, +his errors, and, maybe, his bad habits—all this is the fate of millions +who have been induced by the materialist tendencies of recent times +to disregard personal responsibility, and who, after rejecting such +guides as the nobler instincts of humanity had proffered, attempt to +follow the dictates of the lower instincts and animal impulses. His +terrible remorse and despair, while he is still unmoved by religion, +bear witness to aspirations which the materialist would fain deny. +His instinctive groping for the consolations of religion shows to +what an extent he attributes his failings to an irreligious life, and +that he experiences within him yearnings for a happiness which the +gratification of the senses, prompted by atheism, has never afforded +him. + +Nordau would object to this expression—the gratification of his senses +prompted by atheism—and would tell us that atheism ought to have +implanted into Verlaine the religion of humanity, and that he should +have sacrificed all his inclinations for the future happiness of his +race. But, surely, it would require a good dose of hypocrisy for a +man, sincerely convinced that death puts him personally beyond any +consequences of his life, to persuade himself that he is practising +a life-long abnegation for the good of posterity. Is it not much +more likely that in so frank a nature as Verlaine’s the disbelief in +personal responsibility would turn him into a devil-may-care vagabond +until he learned in the school of experience the dangerous mistakes of +materialism? Does Nordau not recognise the logic and the frankness in a +young man who, in the exuberance of his animal life, when convinced of +personal irresponsibility, lives up to the motto of a “short life and a +merry one”? + +The need of love and affection—a need generally so strongly felt by +all poets—Nordau is pleased to call eroticism, and when the poet finds +that he has profaned love, implanted in his soul by God, Nordau fancies +he has discovered in Verlaine that blending of religious fervour and +morbid eroticism which, when irrational, is a sign of lunacy. + +When Paul Verlaine invokes the Virgin Mary, a form of religious +expression which millions of sane people indulge in daily, Nordau at +once imagines he has discovered another trace of insanity. In order to +show that we are not unfair to our alienist, we will quote one of the +poems of Verlaine he refers to, and the conclusions he draws from it,— + + Et comme j’étais faible, et bien méchant encore, + Aux mains lâches, les yeux éblouis des chemins, + Elle baissa mes yeux, et me joignis les mains, + Et m’enseigna les mots par lesquels on adore. + +“The accents here quoted,” says Nordau, “are well known to the clinics +of psychiatry. We may compare them to the picture which Legrain gives +of some of his patients. ‘His speech continually reverts to God and the +Virgin Mary, his cousin.’ [The case in question is that of a degenerate +subject who was a tramway conductor.] ‘Mystical ideas complete the +picture. He talks of God, of heaven, crosses himself, kneels down, and +says that he is following the commandments of Christ.’ [The subject +under observation is a day-labourer.] ‘The devil will tempt me, but I +see God who guards me. I have asked of God that all people might be +beautiful,’ etc.” + +So far Nordau. + +Because a mad tramway conductor thinks he is cousin of the Virgin +Mary, Verlaine, who symbolizes in the Virgin Mary the power that draws +him towards the good, is on the road to madness! From this it follows +that, if a mad tramway conductor were to believe himself the cousin +of Professor Lombroso, Nordau’s quasi-worship of that authority would +indicate degeneracy in Nordau’s mind. + +One of Nordau’s characteristics is a weak or dull logical faculty, +often to be observed in those who over-study for examination and in +specialists fanatically inclined. Without this peculiarity he could +not possibly have omitted to ask himself the question, “How about +all other worshippers of Christ?” when he concludes that Verlaine’s +mind is degenerate because he speaks devotedly of the Virgin Mary, +while a lunatic labourer says that he follows the commandments of +Christ. Nordau does not see that in this manner he completely gives +himself away, and lets us perceive that it is not the symbolist whom +he considered degenerate, but the whole Christian populations of the +world that have existed during two thousand years, and that still +exist. Only his lack of a sense of the ridiculous, already pointed out, +has prevented him from remembering that the man in his cups considers +himself the only sober man of the company. + +The verses which Verlaine has written in praise of a vagabond life +Nordau holds up as a sure sign of lurking lunacy. Are then all poets +who write in praise of a vagabond life degenerates? Is not the true +secret of Nordau’s conclusion to be found in the fact that he entirely +misses the satire against our modern system which underlies Verlaine’s +and other writers’ poems on this same subject? He does the same with +regard to Verlaine’s poem addressed to the demented king, Louis II. of +Bavaria. When we behold the follies of reigning sovereigns, who are +supposed to be in the full enjoyment of their faculties, making such +poor use of their opportunities, degrading and ruining their people, +rousing a hatred against themselves and their dynasty, or striving at +low _bourgeois_ aims, or even, to use Nordau’s own expression, selling +their royalty for a big cheque; when we read of the monarchs of the +past, of their crimes and their meanesses, how can we wonder that the +unfortunate King Louis should inspire sympathy in a poet, and that he +should satirize the so-called reasonable monarchs by eulogizing the +demented one? + +Nordau makes much of that form of mental weakness which manifests +itself in echolalia, or the mania of repeating for no reason the +same words and the same sentences. But to deny the poet, who aims at +conveying an emotion and for that purpose wishes to create a certain +mood in his listeners, the use of choruses, refrains, and cadenced +repetitions, he runs counter to the oldest literary tradition in the +world. He would surely not object to repetitions in verses intended to +be sung; and if we are right in placing poetry half way between speech +and music in the list of the vehicles of thought, as we have done in a +previous chapter, euphonies, musicalities of words, and repetitions are +both permissible and rational. + +Many poetical emotions may be quickened by reminiscences from +childhood; and a style of writing, or the use of words or sounds, +reminding us of early days, might be the most effective methods +of expression. Thus, for instance, a drowsy repetition of +pleasant-sounding words may be very telling in a lullaby, even if +they convey no scientific meaning, or do not contribute to the sense +of the poem, and so long as they do not distort it. The examples of +repetitions from degeneracy in Verlaine are chosen so unhappily +as to place Nordau in the wrong and Verlaine in the right in the +judgment of unbiassed persons; the one is a serenade, and the other +is entitled “Chevaux du Bois,” in which the sensation of a child on +a merry-go-round is suggested. Another is supposed to be sung by, or +suggests, Pierrot Gamin, that is a young idiot. When Verlaine wishes to +qualify a noun in a manner which is difficult to express in ordinary +adjectives, he, like millions of his fellows, has recourse to the +method of giving a new, or symbolic, signification to an old adjective, +and this, according to Nordau, is a sign of mental degeneration. To +prove his case he quotes such terms as “a narrow and vast affection,” +“a slow landscape,” “a slack liqueur,” “a gilded perfume,” “a terse +contour,” etc. He does not seem to know that the paucity of language +renders such expressions not only legitimate but extremely useful in +many professions and trades, let alone poetry. Has he never heard +of a warm colour, a lively tint, a cold tone, etc.? Are the French +wine-growers mad when they say that wine is heavy, light, full, dead, +alive, slack, round, green, angular, smooth, velvety, etc.? + +We are glad to see that he recognises Verlaine’s ability as a poet and +does not find fault with some of his poems. Thus he says of “Chanson +d’Automne” that “there are few poems in French literature that can +rival” it. While rejoicing at the fairness that Nordau here displays, +we must however point out the eccentricity of his logic. He desires +to warn us against degeneration, and therefore points to a poet +whose degeneracy has not prevented him from writing a masterpiece of +literature. It should also be noticed that the “Chanson d’Automne,” +which meets with such ample praise from Nordau, is on the same theme +which underlies other pieces of poetry quoted in his work as examples +of legitimate and sane poetry. When he does intimate that a poet might +burst into song over flowers, trees, books, and twittering birds, but +not over the sympathy he feels in his consciousness with the powers +that have called them forth, simply because science has not so far been +able to analyse and classify those powers, he only shows that he is +illogical enough to proffer his limited view of what is poetical as an +infallible standard of the poetry of the world. + +Nordau blames Verlaine and other symbolists for dealing with moods +instead of with definite ideas. But is there a single poet in the +past or the present who did not largely deal in moods, and who did +not labour to give the world an impression of his own feelings? +Nordau’s ideal author—Goethe—has gone further. He wrote a whole novel, +_Werther’s Leiden_, which is little else than a lengthy description of +his hero’s moods. + +Another symbolist, Stephane Mallarmé, who in France as well as in +England enjoys a reputation as a poet, or rather as an authority on +poetry, is attacked by Nordau in a manner which suggests other motives +than fair criticism. He gibes at the symbolists and at all who consider +Mallarmé a poet, because he has produced only a few original works and +translations. As our alienist cannot very well put this down as a sign +of degeneration, having treated those who write much as graphomaniacs, +he gives us no other reasons for placing Mallarmé among the examples +of degeneration than that he has “long, pointed, faun-like ears,” a +fact which he seems not to have noticed personally but which he has +obtained, like most of his facts, from a book. + +He distinctly insinuates that the admiration for Mallarmé’s poetical +gift indicates degeneration, especially as Mallarmé has written so +little. We meet here again with a striking example of his curious +logic. He imagines that he strengthens his case by quoting from +Lessing, who in _Amelia Galotti_ makes Conti say that Raphael would +have been the greatest genius in painting, even if he had unfortunately +been born without hands. From this, English readers who happen to know +nothing of Lessing or Conti would conclude that either Lessing was +a lunatic or that his character, Conti, was mad. But neither is the +case, and the quotation consequently tells against Nordau. Whoever +would deny that a man cannot be a poet and an authority on poetry +without publishing verse must attach an extremely narrow meaning to +the word poet. If Lessing, or Conti, means by the word painter, not +the craftsman, but the man with the painter’s soul, the symbolist may +surely be allowed to call Mallarmé a poet. Has Nordau never met with +mute poets, blind painters, and deaf musicians? One of the greatest +musicians of the world composed marvellous music while stone-deaf. +Now if we suppose that Beethoven had lost his hearing before he had +mastered the technicalities of music, would he therefore not have +remained a musician? + +Nordau is very severe on several other symbolists and certainly does +his best to represent them in an unfavourable light. In order to show +that Charles Morice, the author of _La Littérature de tout à l’heure_ +is literally insane and a graphomaniac, he quotes Morice’s rhapsodical +conception of God, which he pretends to take as an exact definition in +order to reduce it to twaddle. To any unprejudiced reader it is evident +that Morice intended to convey by this wild attempt at description how +impossible it is to define God. Nordau’s prejudice against the French +nation becomes palpable when speaking of the fact that the French +language lends itself badly to blank verse and that a freer treatment +of it in French poetry is a comparatively modern departure which by +other countries was taken long ago. He says: “But to any one but a +Frenchman, they merely make themselves ridiculous when they trumpet +their painful hobbling after the nations who are far in front of them, +as an unheard-of discovery of new paths and opening up of new roads +and as an advance inspired by the ideal into the dawn of the future.” +This gratuitous insult of a whole nation gives us a vivid insight into +the working of his mind. He would not have penned a sentence of such +bad taste, and so marked by the echolalia he condemns in others, had he +not been prompted by feelings stronger than his judgment. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +_THE LIGHT OF RUSSIA_ + + +With regard to the Russian novelist, Count Leo Tolstoi, Nordau pursues +the same mode of criticism as he employed against other writers. He +also aims at the same object, firstly, to show that authors suffer +from mental aberration; and, secondly, that the public who read their +books do not do so on account of their literary merit, but because the +readers are mentally afflicted in the same way as the authors. + +To prove this against Tolstoi and his admirers is no light enterprise, +and Nordau does not acquit himself of his self-imposed task without a +great deal of shuffling. + +He allows nothing for Tolstoi’s surroundings, the social condition +of the country in which he lives, and the life he has led, but lifts +him out of all that tends to interpret this ultra-Russian writer, and +regards him as one who has evolved some extraordinary notions in a +studio far from his native land. + +He who says Russia says a great deal: for the expression denotes a vast +empire, consisting of many nationalities and races, held together +by a strong pressure, which seems, like the gravitation of huge +heavenly bodies, to be determined by the size of the body from which +it emanates. The inclusion of so many elements does not prevent Russia +from remaining a great and powerful State, provided its Government soon +becomes to some extent rational. The predominant nationality is made up +of genuine Russians, whose characteristics are such as to render them +capable of being, according to their rulers in the immediate future, an +imminent danger to Europe, or a model nation to be followed by the rest +of the world. + +The Russian is good-tempered, patient, loyal, generous, kind-hearted, +and superstitiously religious. He is extremely emotional and dangerous +when aroused. His easy-going manners, his immense self-esteem, and his +intense vitality render him an easy victim to the numerous temptations +which aliens are not slow to hold out to him. He is straightforward +and strongly averse to hypocrisy, and when he is convinced that duty +demands from him that he should assist in filling a trench with his +dead body for the artillery to pass over, or to throw a bomb at the +Czar, he will do it without a murmur. + +His passiveness, his loyalty, and long-suffering have been cruelly +taken advantage of by a long succession of Governments, chiefly +consisting of aliens. In Russia the most powerful bureaucracy in the +world, composed chiefly of a German element, has taken possession +of the power, and holds to it in a quasi-unconscious fashion, like a +bull-dog unable to relax his hold. + +The Government, with such legislation as exists, has gone on for +centuries with scarcely any regard for the well-being of the people, +and the inevitable results are slowly but surely manifesting +themselves, and point to some terrible catastrophe. + +The emancipation of the serfs, from which sanguine people, unacquainted +with Russian circumstances, hoped so much, shook the old institutions +to their very foundations, but brought only momentary relief to the +suffering people. The _mir_-eaters, or village usurers, have swallowed +up the land of the peasants, their cattle, and their implements, and +compelled large hordes of people to move about the country in search +of work. Employment is scarce and labour ill paid. The tax-collectors +are as implacable and the Government officials as corrupt as ever. +The tendency—to be observed all over the civilized world—of dividing +humanity into two classes, the wealthy and the poor, has nowhere +developed to the same extent as in Russia. The rich, comparatively +few in number, are becoming extremely rich, but the great mass of the +people miserably poor. + +Extreme poverty, intensified by the pressure of the tax-gatherer and +the inhuman methods of the money-lender, has a gnawing effect on a +people living in an intensely rigorous climate, in miserable villages +sparsely scattered over vast monotonous plains. + +The Russians being a sentimental people, it is natural that their +forlorn condition should cause them to brood over their sad lives +during the long and lonely winter nights, or that they should be driven +to drown their consciousness in _vodka_. + +Such is the stage on which alone a character like Leo Tolstoi can +become intelligible. + +But it is not only the powerful influences from external circumstances +which give that direction to Tolstoi’s mind which Nordau insists in +interpreting as a sign of degeneracy. The mode of life and the sphere +of action he has adopted, in pursuance of the large and noble traits +of his character, must have been powerfully conducive to his peculiar +mood and ideas. Nobody who has read his works, even if only those works +Nordau holds to be of the smallest literary merit and fullest of signs +of degeneracy, would ever conceive the idea that Tolstoi’s mind was +weak or distorted. But if this novelist had been driven to lunacy, +it would have been extremely irrational to account for his mental +aberration without considering the outward circumstances that would +have produced it. + +Tolstoi’s sympathies were roused, as those of every noble-minded man +would have been roused, by the miserable existence of a people who +possess all the elements of a great nation. In Russia no such ways +are open to the reformer as in free States. There is no Parliament, no +organized political parties, no free Press. A political career is out +of the question, except in the form of a consistent toadying of those +in power, and of a blind obedience to those who crush the people. Any +opposition to Government, or even proffered suggestions, would lead to +exile in Siberia, and abruptly cut short any man’s activity. Tolstoi +had therefore only two courses open to him: either to expatriate +himself and to thunder forth in a foreign Press against the abuses of +the Russian Government, unheard and unheeded by his own censor-ridden +compatriots or to adopt the line of action he did. + +In the cities, where the alien element prevails, and where the scum of +the Russian nation congregates, he would be out of contact with his +people. His emotional nature would have revolted against the police +tyranny and spying rampant in the cities, and he would soon have been +landed in the clutches of the authorities. He therefore elected to live +among the peasants as one of them, convinced both by his feelings and +his reason that he would thus directly benefit his surroundings by his +example and form that leaven by which the whole mass might in time be +leavened; while his writings simultaneously appealed to those of his +countrymen who read books, and those who, outside Russia, sympathize +with the Russian people. + +We do not pretend to know Tolstoi’s secret thoughts and his ultimate +hopes, but we believe it possible that he may, without being an +irrational enthusiast, or even a dreamer, have reckoned on his writings +and opinions reaching the highest personages in the Russian empire +through being read by all the upper classes of the world. He may have +hoped that, after establishing his reputation throughout the literary +world, and after having become the pride of his own nation, he would +one day dare to speak such words to the rulers of all the Russians as +might save him and his nation. + +Whatever may have been his expectations, there can be little doubt that +he has met with dire disappointment, not so much in his personal career +as in his hopes for his fellow-countrymen. + +To the framers of paper constitutions and to theoretical +revolutionists, it may seem easy to introduce a new form of Government +and to regenerate a nation, but, to one who, like Tolstoi, is in close +contact with the masses to be regenerated, who has daily experienced +all the frailty of the material he has to work with, who alone tries to +swim against overwhelming currents,—to him, the uplifting of a nation +or a race is a herculean task impossible to approach with the clap-trap +of the modern agitator. + +Tolstoi, finding that it is the _morale_ of the people he has to work +upon, that it is in the religious tendencies of his fellow-men that +their strength lies, concludes, with the full consent of his emotional +being, that religious conceptions, different from the Russian orthodox +Church and from the western university theology, must be the foundation +on which he has to build. What therefore is more rational than that he +should plunge into religious speculation, and thus expose himself to +the mistake of adopting religious views which are prompted as much by +the needs of the situation, the circumstances, his own and his people’s +characteristics, as by logical deductions. Greater men than he—Moses, +Mahomet, and others—had done so before him. + +Besides, as the postulates he starts from do not spring from exact +knowledge, but from faith and emotion—as all religious postulates +necessarily must do,—and as these, his postulates, are diametrically +opposed to those which Nordau would pre-suppose, Tolstoi’s conclusions +must be the opposite of his; but to differ from Nordau is to be +degenerate. + +It is no wonder then that Tolstoi’s books should be more than novels. +He had a higher purpose in view than gathering in royalties and +entertaining his readers. His books are jam with a considerable amount +of powder in them. If, despite this, they have been widely read +throughout the world, ordinary minds would conclude that in creating +them their author has accomplished tasks which alone a mind of a high +order could hope to perform. Our alienist, determined to come to no +such conclusion, supposes that all those who read Tolstoi’s works are +degenerates, and that the large sale of his books is consequently a +confirmation of Tolstoi’s degeneracy. + +Would Nordau apply the same kind of reasoning with regard to the sale +of his own works? He would probably; but instead of starting with the +supposition that contemporary readers of books are incipient lunatics, +he would very likely take for granted that the readers who approve of +his works are highly intelligent, and that the great sale they have +attained proves the soundness of his own mind. + +In support of his view, Nordau, who fairly acknowledges the great +qualities of Tolstoi as a writer of fiction, has the audacity to +assert that it is not this great quality of his works that has secured +him his world-wide fame, but that it is due to his mysticism, which +a degenerate race prefers to a literary and moral value. The only +semblance of proof he gives for this view is that Tolstoi’s best +works have not contributed to his reputation so much as the _Kreutzer +Sonata_, “an inferior creation, which in the public opinion of the +western nations placed him in the first rank of living authors.” But +who has decided that the _Kreutzer Sonata_ is inferior to Tolstoi’s +other works? Only Nordau, whose opinion runs counter to the “western +nations.” If therefore there is any value in Nordau’s argument it rests +entirely on the astounding fact that the “western nations” are all +degenerate and Nordau alone is sane. + +Nordau, like most German bookworms, evidently believes that references +to an authority, however obscure, are enough to prove any assertion. He +has manifestly worked with any number of “conversations-lexicons” and +encyclopedias about him, in quest of some printed confirmation of the +extraordinary opinion that the _Kreutzer Sonata_ is a poor book, and +that the preceding works of Tolstoi alone contain those grand qualities +which Nordau recognises. He finds that Franz Bornmüller, an author of +a biographical dictionary, said in 1882 of Tolstoi: “He possesses no +ordinary talent for fiction, but one devoid of due artistic finish, and +which is influenced by a certain one-sidedness in his views of life and +history.” + +It should be noticed that Nordau gives this quotation in order to +show that Tolstoi had not attained any European fame in 1882, that +is, before the _Kreutzer Sonata_ was written; but with that amazing +want of logic characterizing his whole work, he does not see that this +Franz Bornmüller thinks very little of the early works of Tolstoi. He +consequently differs from Nordau, and shows every sign of sharing the +opinion of the “western nations.” + +Nordau makes a sharp distinction between Tolstoi’s novels as such +and the philosophy they enforce. He is thereby enabled to give some +plausibility to the sophistical assertion that it is not Tolstoi’s +novels, but his philosophy, which brought him popularity. This +philosophy, which is supposed to prove that Tolstoi’s mind is not +sound, Nordau sums up in the following way: “The individual is nothing, +the species is everything, the individual lives in order to do his +fellow-creatures good; thought and inquiry are great evils; science is +perdition; faith is salvation.” Among these items there is only one +which differs from the views of the bulk of humanity—from that ordinary +common-sense which Nordau so often takes as a standard of sanity, even +in the superstitious peasant. We refer to the item in which he says +that thought and inquiry are great evils. Nowhere in Tolstoi’s writings +can such a nonsensical phrase be found. It is one of those little +touches that Nordau so dexterously applies, or which his prejudice +causes him to apply, in order to strengthen his case in his readers’, +or perhaps in his own, eyes. He appears to ignore such works as _My +Confession_, _My Faith_, _A Short Exposition of the Gospel_, and _About +my Life_, all works built up by elaborate thoughts. The whole life of +Tolstoi has been one of “thought and inquiry,” and all his literary +work is an invitation to think and to inquire. Tolstoi objects only +to such thought and inquiry as vainly attempt to carry the methods of +inductive science into spheres where the observation of our senses +is of no avail, and where their failure tempts us to believe in the +non-existence of that all-important portion of the universe into which +faith alone can penetrate. + +That Tolstoi should distrust science, after the presumptuous attitude +which scientists have taken up, will surprise nobody who has read +what we have said about this bankruptcy of science. Many scientists, +including Nordau, have in their gratuitous attacks on religion so +recklessly mixed up scientific fact with scientific speculation, that +they must blame themselves if people use the term “science” when it +would be more correct to employ that of “unscientific speculations.” + +That a thinker, who is at the same time the instructor of the ignorant +masses, should look upon faith as a means of salvation, is not new, and +cannot be considered as a sign of mental aberration; for millions of +sane common-sense men have for thousands of years held this opinion. +Even if we apply the word salvation exclusively to society in general, +to the race, or to one nation, leaving out any references to individual +salvation in another world, faith of some kind is the only source from +which it could spring. Scientists of Nordau’s type seem unable to +understand that science means the knowledge of absolute facts which, +while quite capable of undermining and destroying the foundations +on which a more or less primitive religion rests, cannot possibly +come into collision with faith in the widest sense of the term. When +a scientist and a religionist differ about things which have not +come under scientific inquiry—such as the final aim of the scheme of +humanity, for example—the dispute is not between science and faith, but +between two different faiths. Science therefore cannot regulate our +conduct, determine our views, or save a nation. This alone can be done +by faith, be it based on science, on tradition, or emotion. A great +scientific knowledge might be degraded into an excuse for, and a means +of, an irresponsible, selfish, and wicked life; or it might ennoble the +mind, intensify the sense of responsibility, and serve as the means of +rendering great services to humanity. All depends on the faith of the +scientist. + +The end of what we may call the era of scientific atheism, now at hand, +presents most deplorable results, as we have already pointed out, of +removing the only foundations of a moral balance available to those who +have not had any opportunity of drawing from scientific studies that +strength of character, and those noble aspirations to be met with in +scientists who have a genuine faith—a faith in their science and in +humanity, if in nothing else. Tolstoi, who, like every thinking man of +our time, had seen the disastrous effects which scientific atheism had +produced, cannot possibly be regarded as of weak intellect because he +rejected scientific superstition and proclaimed faith as the true basis +of conduct and character. + +Nordau finds traces of degeneracy in Tolstoi’s question, “Wherefore +am I alive?” and in the manner in which Tolstoi finds a reply to that +question. It seems however that Nordau too has asked, himself that +question, for in his book _Degeneration_ (page 149) he replies to it +in a close, well-reasoned, passage, which deserves to be read to its +full extent. We shall quote only a part of it in order to compare the +reply he himself obtains with the reply obtained, by Tolstoi. After +having shown that the aim of a man’s life is necessarily involved in +the greater question—the aim of the universe—and that such an aim +cannot exist objectively in time or space, he says: “But if it is not +objective, if it does not exist in time and space, it must, in order +to be conceivable, exist somewhere, virtually, as idea, as a plan +and design. But that which contains a design, a thought, a plan, we +name consciousness; and consciousness that can conceive a plan of the +universe, and for its realization designedly uses the forces of nature, +is synonymous, with God. If a man however believes in a God, he loses +at once the right to raise the question, ‘Wherefore am I alive?’ since +it is in that case an insolent presumption, an effort of small, weak +man to look over God’s shoulder, to spy out God’s plan, to aspire to +the height of omniscience. But neither is it in such a case necessary, +since a God without the highest wisdom cannot be conceived; and if +He has devised a plan for the world, this is certain to be perfect, +all its parts are in harmony, and the aim to which every co-operator, +from the smallest to the greatest, will devote himself is the best +conceivable. Thus man can live in complete rest and confidence in the +impulses and forces implanted in him by God, because he, in every case, +fulfils a high and worthy destiny by co-operating in a, to him, unknown +Divine plan of the world.” + +We here notice his words: “that which contains a design, a thought, +a plan, we name consciousness.” Now, nobody knows better than the +scientists that so far all scientific discovery has revealed plan, +method, and purpose, in the smallest thing and the smallest phenomena +in the universe. Is it then necessary to be degenerate to believe in +a self-conscious Providence? John Stuart Mill observes that the fact +that we find in nature, especially in human and animal bodies, physical +and mechanical problems solved in the same way as engineers had solved +them long before they knew of such solutions in nature, points not only +to the existence of an intelligent Creator, but to a similarity of His +intelligence to that of human beings. + +According to the passage from Nordau, then, the planning in nature +proves a conscious force, a conscious force is synonymous with God, and +the man who believes in God can live in complete rest in his faith. +Tolstoi obtained a reply to his question in a manner which he describes +in the following words: + +“It was quite the same to me whether Jesus was God or not God; whether +the Holy Ghost proceeded from the one or the other. It was likely +neither necessary nor important for me to know how, when, and by whom +the Gospels, or any one of the parables were composed, and whether +they could be ascribed to Christ or not. What to me was important was +that the light which for eighteen hundred years was the light of the +world is that light still; but what name was to be given to the source +of this light, or what were its component parts, and by whom it was +lighted, was quite indifferent to me.” + +The difference in the two replies is one of words only. If therefore +Nordau acknowledged that a sensible man could ask such a question, and +if the reply of Nordau we have just quoted is recognised by him as his +own opinion, he and Tolstoi would stand very much in the same category. +But Nordau does not think that a perfectly sane mind would ask such +a question; and if it was asked, he has another reply. This reply is +however far from being so clear as the other. “If,” he says, “on the +other hand, there is no belief in a God, it is also impossible to form +a conception of the aim, for then the aim existing in consciousness +only as an idea, in the absence of a universal consciousness, has no +locus for existence; there is no place for it in nature.” From this it +ought to follow that, if a man does not believe in God, there is no +God, and consequently there can be no aim. He then proceeds to argue +that, if there be no aim, it is useless to ask the question, “Wherefore +am I alive?” but that we can ask the question, “Why do we live?” +His reply to this is characteristic: “We live in obedience to the +mechanical law of causality, which requires no plan and no universal +consciousness.” + +It is curious to behold how Nordau cannot perceive that his question, +“Why do we live?” implies the question, “Whence the mechanical law of +causality?” and that his reply is simply, “We live because we live.” +Once he has accepted this self-delusion as a solid foundation, his +reasoning again becomes rational, and does not bear on the point before +us. The most astounding part of it is that Nordau considers Tolstoi, +and all others whose instinct, whose emotion, and whose immutable +reasoning point to a cause behind Nordau’s home-made mechanical law of +causality, as thereby showing signs of mental degeneration. + +Nordau, in order to prove the confusion existing in Tolstoi’s ideas, +seems to take for granted that the tendency towards Pantheism, +perceptible in the Russian’s reasoning, is utterly at variance with +Christianity. We would simply point out that Tolstoi has his own +Christianity, framed on his own interpretation of the Gospels, and not +any previously existing Christianity, and is therefore at liberty to +proclaim a creed which has a Pantheistic tendency without exposing +himself to the reproach of being inconsequent. But we consider it more +important to notice the fact that the Gospels, far from laying down any +dogmas, are the record of the life of a man—divine or not divine—whose +mission it was to protest against dogmas. He called God “Father,” in +order to speak of universal consciousness only in its relations to man, +leaving it to the doctrinaires and the philosophers to agree as best +they could on the question of Pantheism or no Pantheism. Besides, the +Gospels certainly emphasize the omnipresence of the Creator; and if +this Pantheistic tendency had not existed among the disciples, it is +not likely that St. Paul would have said, “In Him we live, we move, and +have our being.” + +The shallow, superficial manner in which Nordau treats Tolstoi’s +ethics is certainly unworthy of him, and amounts simply to a quibble. +These ethics, correctly summed up, “Resist not evil, judge not, kill +not,” which correspond precisely with the teachings of Christ, Nordau +does not regard as ethics, but proceeds solemnly to test them as +expediencies in peculiar cases, and comes to the conclusion that they +are ridiculous. + +Must we then conclude that Nordau has no such ethics, but that he +believes it right to return evil for evil,—_vendetta_ fashion,—that +he objects to suffer wrong for a good cause, and that he revels in +indiscriminate murder? Tolstoi’s ethics, as ethics should do, hold +up the ideal for which we should strive, and as a practical test of +them we must consider not the murder and plunder of one good man by +a bad one, but the state which would ensue if all men conformed to +them. The practical moral we ought to draw from them is not that laws +and law courts should be abolished, but that laws should be framed +and law courts should be managed in such a way as to favour a general +acceptance of such ethics. Here again Nordau indulges in illogical +reasoning, and in contradictions of himself. He takes for granted +that humanity is so utterly depraved that if “the fear of the gallows +did not prevent it, throat-cutting and stealing would be the most +generally adopted trade.” This means that Nordau in one place in his +book declares human beings are too good, too noble, too honest to need +any belief in a hell, but in another place declares that they are far +too depraved to do without the fear of the gallows. He forgets that +good ethics have sprung from the good instincts of our race, and that +crime has largely been fostered by bad laws, bad law courts, and bad +institutions. + +In one of his stories, entitled _From the Diary of Nechljudow_, +Tolstoi’s hero, Prince Nechljudow, is a most eccentric character, +created probably for the purpose of showing the absurdity of +indiscriminate charity and other impulsive actions of the erratics of +our day. Nordau gives an account of one of the instances in which the +Prince’s selfish way of practising charity is forcibly brought out. +He evidently does this in order that the Prince’s action should be +accepted as an illustration of what Tolstoi means by charity. This is +both absurd and unjust. It amounts to an identification of the author +with the character he represents—a way of insinuating degeneracy in +authors who simply hold it up in their characters as a warning. To thus +mix up authors with their characters is a mistake frequently committed +by unintelligent readers, but it is surprising to find that with Nordau +it is an habitual method. + +With regard to the character Pozdnyscheff, Nordau does the same thing. +He takes for granted that the opinions expressed by this character are +those of the author. The passages he extracts from _Short Expositions_, +in which Tolstoi’s own opinions are expressed, in no wise justify such +a supposition. + +Nordau’s explanation of the enormous success Tolstoi’s books have +achieved is that it is due to general degeneration among the upper +classes throughout the world. If he could personally meet the hundreds +of thousands of English people who have read Tolstoi’s works, he would +be able to form an idea of the immensity of his mistake. He would find +that the majority of these people belong to a middle class, consisting +of persons who are not overworked and who indulge in none of the vices +of the continental aristocracies. Their muscles and their nerves have +been strengthened and fortified by a healthy education, and by a love +of bodily exercise, sport and even danger, and by a moral life. They +live in a country where the authorities have found that to proscribe +any licentious book is to promote its sale, and where consequently +there is hardly any check upon morbid literature. Yet there is not a +country where less of it is circulated than in England. It is true +that these readers of Tolstoi have not attained to that height of +intellectual development which would permit them to accept Nordau’s +“mechanical causality” as a satisfying explanation of the universe; +but, on the other hand, it would be difficult to find a people so +religiously inclined, and yet so free from superstition and fanaticism. + +Some of them may like Rossetti’s pictures, and many of them Burne +Jones’s, but as a rule they have an equal admiration for Raphael, +Tintoretto, Correggio, and others. They cannot be classed among the +mystics on that account. As few of them write books, they cannot be +called graphomaniacs. Nor do they show any signs of being egomaniacs. +Nor have they any physical stigmata of degenerates. The heads of this +class are generally beautifully shaped, and the ears of the women +are by all foreigners who visit this country proclaimed to be the +finest and daintiest ears in the world. Personal beauty among this +class is decidedly on the increase; for each generation seems to be +better-looking, and the youngest is generally the most beautiful. The +latter fact, we may mention, is no doubt due to the increasing tendency +of the upper and middle classes in England to beautify their homes and +to surround themselves with exquisite objects, as well as to a more +intellectual education, pastimes, pleasures, and arts. + +Why then must these readers of Tolstoi’s works be classed as degenerate? + +It is not denied that in England there are people who exhibit signs +of mental degeneration, but they are to be found more in literary +and political circles than in the close ranks of the upper and +middle classes. We would not undertake to class them under the +headings established by the alienist, and it would be difficult even +for Nordau to do so. Perhaps they are not sufficiently advanced in +degeneracy to be so classed. Such signs as they exhibit are some of +them as old as the hills, and others are clearly the manifestations +of that intellectual and moral daze which generally follows on the +destruction of the religious foundations of belief involved in the +acceptance of belief in scientific atheism. But the most prevalent +form of degeneracy is that which is palpably the result of financial +depression, felt not only in financial but artistic and literary +circles. For reasons which we leave to the economists to explain, +England’s commerce and agriculture seem to have come to a dead-lock. +The result seems to be diminished incomes all round. Many artists, +_littérateurs_, and politicians are at their wits’ end how to make +an income, and there can be little doubt that this has fostered a +certain amount of demoralization. Extraordinary attempts are made +to produce sensational pictures, to write eccentric poetry, to send +forth books that will shock, and to treat of risky subjects on the +stage. Politicians are obliged to make politics a profession, and, as +popularity is indispensable to it as a profitable profession, they +worship majorities. Any one who is acquainted with London cannot doubt +for a moment that these forms of demoralization spring entirely from +a necessity of making a living. Artists, authors, and politicians +of this class are no more inclined to lunacy than the vast class of +people who do distasteful work, as well as those who have to appear +before the public in dangerous but not much esteemed performances. If +the financial depression is destined to disappear, there can be little +doubt that the majority of these signs of demoralization will also +disappear. + +There are in this country, as everywhere else, real degenerates, people +who have weakened their brains and moral faculties by drink, debauch, +overwork, or persons who have inherited mental debility. There are +also among us, we regret to say, an alarming number of destitute people +who have been driven into mental derangement by those terrible pangs +that misery inflicts. But all these degenerates care as little for +Tolstoi’s novels as they do for Rossetti’s or Burne Jones’s pictures. + +Though English circumstances are vastly different from continental, +there can be no doubt that the causes which have rendered Tolstoi’s +novels popular are the same here as in other countries. The scientific +atheists have introduced into literature a materialist, selfish, +sceptical, pessimistic, and cynical tone which was tolerated by the +public for a long time. On the continent they had Zola and his wretched +imitators, whose books found their way among us, while England has +produced a crop of neurotic storytellers, playwrights, and versifiers, +made up for the most part of masculine women and effeminate men, who +have exploited to the utmost the atheistic vein. + +The noble spirit which atheism was to bring to the front somehow did +not take to literature, and the reading classes of the world began to +miss those pure joys which reading used to afford them. The books of +the day offended their religious feelings, their sense of decency, +their loftiest conceptions of the world, and their self-esteem, without +amusing them. The whole literature of fiction had become stilted, and +the morbid and pessimistic authors departed so widely from nature +and evinced so many signs of utter insincerity that the reading world +longed to be face to face with a man who spoke his innermost thoughts. +The world was therefore ready for a new departure in literature. + +What wonder then that Tolstoi’s works were well received. They bore +witness to consummate ability, a close study of human nature. They +presented a true picture of social Russia. They afforded an insight +into the Russian mind. His readers experienced the intellectual treat +offered by few books,—that of feeling the presence of a master-mind, +and of following the thoughts of a thoroughly sincere writer, free from +the cheap ready-made materialist philosophy—a man who devotes both his +life and his work, with almost superhuman energy, to the regeneration +of his race. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +_THE REAL IBSEN_ + + +In reading Nordau’s chapter on Ibsen, one cannot help wondering why +our alienist has given his book the form he has. The feeling which +the preceding contents of his work have more or less inspired—that +there is a discrepancy between the apparent plan of the work and its +execution—almost ripens into conviction on the perusal of his chapter +on Ibsen. + +He says in his dedication to Professor Lombroso: “Now I have undertaken +the work of investigating the tendencies of the fashion in art and +literature, of proving that they have their source in the degeneracy +of their authors, and that the enthusiasm of their admirers is for +manifestations of more or less pronounced moral insanity, imbecility, +and dementia.” He also says that he “ventures to fill a void in your +[Lombroso’s] powerful system.” From what he says higher up on the same +page about the power of books and works of art to influence the masses, +and his many hints in other parts of the book, as, for example, in its +concluding pages, we must understand that his great object is to do +what he can to arrest the downward movement of human intelligence. + +He thus assumes that there is a degenerating process going on +throughout civilization, but attentive readers of his book feel the +whole time that this assumption, far from being proved to be correct, +rests on data supplied by Nordau, which strongly warn his readers to +accept them only with a grain of salt. + +On the other hand, there are a host of indications in all civilized +countries pointing to an increase in intellectual power, moral +strength, and æsthetic refinement. Some of these indications would +probably not be undervalued by Nordau himself: the rapid progress of +science, the increasing education among the masses, the large number of +newspapers and periodicals dealing intelligently with various branches +of knowledge, professions, and trades, the wider application of +scientific methods to industry, wonderful inventions, not the outcome +of discovery, but of intelligent induction, the decay of superstition, +love of investigation, etc. Nordau, having allowed that the test of +a sound mind is its ability to attend rationally to one’s business, +ought to recognize that the growth of intellectual power is manifest in +improved business methods, skill, manufacturing, complicated and daring +financial schemes, ingenious co-operative systems, well-managed and +disciplined trades’-unions, nay, even cleverly laid plots to defraud. + +An increasing moral strength is proved by the growth of the altruistic +feeling, the devotion with which the cause of humanity, morality, and +progress is served by people who, thanks to scientific scepticism, +expect no reward in another world; the greater sincerity observable in +all religious bodies, the magnitude of charitable institutions, the +magnificent heroism displayed by captains and crews on sinking ships, +by our life-boat men in attempting to save the shipwrecked, by our +colliers’ efforts to rescue the victims of explosions, etc. The great +victories of the Germans over the French and the complete success +of the commanders’ daring tactics have been largely, and probably +correctly, ascribed to the moral qualities of the German army, while +the utter defeat of the French cannot be ascribed to the want of moral +qualities, but to bad leadership. A quarter of a century has elapsed +since the Franco-German war, but there is no reason to believe that the +moral qualities of the German army have degenerated. That no degeneracy +has taken place in the English, French, and Italian armies has been +proved by the Chitral expedition, by the French war with Madagascar, +and by the Italian operations in Africa. + +If, despite these manifest signs of growing intellectual power and +moral strength, Nordau’s deep insight into psychological matters +has revealed to him a mental degeneracy in the civilized world, his +way of investigating such decay, his mode of dealing with it, and +especially the causes he attributes to it, are too vacillating, too +contradictory, and too biassed to inspire confidence. While sometimes, +as in his chapter entitled “Etiology,” he refers to such causes as +the increase in the consumption of spirits and tobacco, the factory +system, overwork, overcrowding—all causes palpable to all who have +given any attention to social questions,—in the rest of his book he +seems to regard certain popular writers and artists as the great +cause of general degeneration who should be specially noticed. This +contradiction cannot be explained away on the plea that his book is +only part of a wider investigation which has already been made, or +might be made, regarding the causes of degeneration, and that, so long +as his work is intended to treat of the influence of literature and +art, his ignoring of other causes is legitimate. If an effect is first +attributed to one cause and then to another, we may be sure that there +is something wrong with the reasoning. We cannot prove first that +the tendency to hysteria, so common in people engaged in a certain +class of business, is due to overwork, and afterwards prove that the +same tendency in the same people is due to Rossetti’s pictures or to +Swinburne’s poems. + +Nordau never furnishes an explanation of the enormous importance +he attaches to the influence of writers and artists, and the small +importance he attaches to the more palpable causes of degeneration, +of the existence of some of which he is aware. Nor does he tell us +how he reconciles the two facts, alternately insisted upon by him, +that degeneration in artists is the cause of degeneration in their +surroundings; and again, that the degeneration of their surroundings is +the cause of degeneration in artists and authors. + +If such artists and authors as Nordau believes to be degenerate are +the effect of degeneration all round, they are surely the smallest and +least deplorable results, and it was certainly not worth while to write +so bulky a volume about them. Nordau mentions about a score; and what +is a score compared to the mass of humanity, or to the five hundred +million people included in western civilization? A degeneration that +would not have other results than that of producing twenty degenerate +men, who, though they are in many respects a source of enjoyment to +many, may have a grain of insanity in their brains, would not be worth +noticing. If, on the other hand, these supposed degenerates are not +what, to the ordinary mind, they decidedly appear to be—the children of +their time—but the actual causes of such serious psychological effects +which statistics seem to reveal, we are face to face with a phenomenon +which surely demanded a different method of investigation. + +The real connection between the causes and the effects should have been +ascertained. For instance, the most alarming feature of degeneration +in England—that weak-mindedness which leads to drunkenness—should +have been connected with the mystical painters and poets, and should +have been proved not to have been the result of those causes which +seem palpable to every man. Then the influence of individuals on the +masses in general should have been ascertained. History offers a wide +field for such an investigation. If it had been found that authors +and artists exercise less influence than other individuals, such as +sovereigns, statesmen, prophets, reformers, revolutionary leaders, +discoverers, explorers, and others, the influence of these should have +at first been studied, and what could not be attributed to them might +have been laid at the door of artists and authors. + +In examining history, old and new, we are struck with the extremely +slight effects which have been produced by _littérateurs_ and +artists, and the enormous, all-powerful influence exercised by other +individuals. Books have influenced books, poets have influenced +poets, painters have influenced painters, but the political, social, +intellectual, moral, and æsthetical development of a nation has over +and over again been completely determined by men who have been neither +artists nor authors. + +In modern times the same fact is palpable. Has ever the world been +influenced more than by such men as Cavour, Prince Bismarck, Mr. +Gladstone, Napoleon III.? and how might not the fate of humanity +be determined in the near future by such men as, for example, the +Emperor of Germany and the Czar of Russia? On the mental qualities +of the Emperor of Germany depends largely whether Germany is to be +crushed under the army system; whether it is to be ruined by financial +blunderings; whether there shall be peaceful development of its +resources, or war to the knife between its classes; whether healthy +reforms shall gradually clear away its social anomalies, or whether a +revolution of unprecedented atrocity shall uproot its very foundations; +whether its inhabitants shall develop those characteristics to which +peace and happiness are conducive, or those which would inevitably be +fostered if Germany were made the battle-field of modern armies. + +On the mental qualities of the Czar depend directly the destiny of a +hundred million people, and indirectly the peace of the world. Russia +is only too willing to progress under an imperial leader. On the +occasion of his accession to the throne and his marriage, millions +of people anxiously scanned his portrait and tried to read in his +features the fate of Europe. The presence of lines supposed to indicate +weak character produced prophecies of clerical domination, opposition +to progress, and death to Russia; while a kindly expression of the +eyes inspired many with hopes of a new era for Tolstoi’s unfortunate +countrymen. + +It is not only personages of high rank and sovereign power whose mental +state is of utmost importance to humanity. The political situation +in most countries is capable of producing at any moment a man who, +without being either an author or an artist, might be able to change +the destiny of nations. It is not the opportunity that is wanting, +it is the men. France is panting for a man. The working classes in +America and in England stand in need of a good leader. In Germany +Liebknecht threatens to divide the power with the Emperor. A political +Tolstoi might, at the head of the Russian people, sweep the recreant +bureaucrats from his Fatherland. + +It is then sovereigns, politicians, and popular leaders whose +mental state is of the utmost importance, and whose influence may +overwhelmingly determine the mental and moral development of humanity. +An answer to the question whether they are degenerates, or whether +they are of mentally or morally sound mind, is momentous to the whole +civilized world, especially if it be admitted that the minds of the +race are so susceptible of being moulded by the minds of influential +men. + +But who are the men whom Nordau blames for the degeneracy for which +he finds the proof in statistics? Poets and artists, whose very names +are known only to the educated classes, and who for the most part +supply what the market demands, or simply reflect the society around +them. The most surprising of all is that he himself denies any power +or any talent in some of these men, calling them—to omit his worse +epithets—such names as drivelling idiots, weak-minded graphomaniacs, +etc. + +One condition seems however necessary before a man can receive the +compliment of being called names by Nordau—he must have attracted +public attention. We have therefore said, and repeat it, that his +desperate attempt to make out Ibsen to be a degenerate renders it +impossible to form a clear idea of his object, or of his reasons, for +the methods he has adopted. + +Henrik Ibsen aims not at being a prophet, a teacher, or a regenerator +of mankind either by literary or scientific methods. No one can +detect in his works special ethics, or particular religious or social +views. It is characteristic of his pieces—and according to many of +his opponents a great fault in them—that he points no moral, that the +questions involved remain at the end of the piece exactly where they +were at the beginning, that his heroes and heroines are no heroes and +no heroines, and cannot serve as models of conduct. His opponents and +admirers alike complain that they cannot get at his meaning, and that +he will not explain himself. It is therefore surprising that there +should be so much talk about the influence he exercises, and that +Nordau himself should speak about “Ibsen’s dogmas,” “Ibsen’s code of +morals,” and about Ibsen himself as a “reformer.” + +Those who speak about Ibsen’s influence on the ethics of our time +cannot, as a rule, give any explanation of their meaning which can +justify the importance they attach to it. They are apt to point to +his influence on the English drama and blame him for certain of its +objectionable features. But to those who understand his pieces it is +perfectly clear that he has not been followed by English dramatists in +such things as have made him famous and popular. They have contented +themselves with imitating certain situations and with referring to some +objectionable feature in modern society, which Ibsen does reluctantly, +compelled to do so by the situation, and in order to emphasize types of +character which are only too common in every civilized country, but are +so closely draped in hypocrisy as to require the great dramatist’s lens +to show them up. His imitators however exemplify entirely exceptional +cases and conjure up characters the prototypes of which it would be +extremely hard to find. He aims at presenting stern reality; they aim +at producing risky situations. Indeed, his imitators cannot be said to +have been influenced by him more than has his brilliant parodist, Mr. +F. Anstey. + +In Germany, as in the Scandinavian countries, complaints are sometimes +raised against Ibsen’s influence on women, especially young women. +Our daughters are getting Ibsenized, is the cry raised by a number of +Philistine parents. It is perhaps natural that Ibsen’s influence on +women in those countries, where the staging of Ibsen’s pieces recalls +more familiar presentations should be greater than in England, where +the Norwegian manner of life is but little known. But too much weight +might easily be attached to the difference in acquaintance with Norway. +There is a far more powerful reason why Ibsen’s so-called influence +should appear to be more marked on German and Norwegian women than on +English women. + +With the exception of the United States, there is no country in the +world where respectable women are better treated than in England. An +old adage says, with a great deal of truth, that the wife of the German +is his slave, the wife of the Frenchman is his mistress, and the wife +of the Englishman is the queen of his house. The German woman certainly +has of old held a position in her home which might well lead her to +envy the English woman, and as the Scandinavian countries have been +largely affected by Germany in their social manners and habits, the +women of these countries have ample cause for dissatisfaction. Since +the time of Frederika Bremer, a woman’s revolt has been brewing in +the Scandinavian countries, and the aspirations for more liberty, a +more natural life, and more happiness have been constantly becoming +stronger, and were highly developed before Ibsen’s first piece +appeared. Besides, the spread of English fiction in Germany and in the +northern countries of Europe has shown the women of those countries +that a happier life is quite possible. + +The road to the realization of such aspirations was however barred by +custom and the selfish view of the question taken by the men. They +had no objection to high-spirited, talented, well-dressed, and lively +women, whose attractions could evoke in them romantic and ardent +feelings; and a great many knew well enough that leisure, exemption +from hard work, good food, plenty of exercise, suitable friends, +artistic surroundings, good books, a fair amount of pleasure, and +considerate treatment were required to transform a young woman into +that feminine ideal which they worshipped in their imagination. But +they repudiated entirely the idea of having such ideals in their wives. +It would have clashed far too much with the traditional type of a good +wife, and to marry one deviating from this type would have set the +whole circle of acquaintances talking. Besides, a wife conforming to +the ideal was considered an expensive luxury, leading to waste of money +which could be much better employed. + +Mothers of girls, well acquainted with the marriage market, +consequently exerted all their energy to form their daughters for +the positions they were expected to occupy. House-cleaning, washing, +cooking, darning, etc.,—this was what they had to learn. A demure +demeanour was what they had to practise. The society of men was what +they had to avoid. Romantic ideas had, above all, to be suppressed, +and only such love as would come after marriage, or at least after +betrothal, was considered legitimate and decent. + +A great feature in their education was to closely observe the evils and +troubles which followed upon poverty, and how much more comfortable +life would be with a prosperous though unattractive husband than with a +beloved man who might not succeed in the world. The idea of refusing a +proposal of marriage from a well-to-do man, however old and prosy, was +regarded as preposterous, and any respectable girl dreaming of such a +thing would have been considered as a romantic, ungrateful hussy. + +As the men seldom married young, the girls were taught to ask no +questions about their past, and were trained to sacrifice all their +ideals of purity, their dreams of love, what a free woman would call +her self-respect, their future happiness, their healthful youth, on the +altar of Philistine respectability. + +There are other ways of degrading women besides yoking them with an +ox to a plough, and that they were degraded and de-naturalized the +thinking German and Scandinavian women had felt long before Ibsen +wrote plays. The struggle for better treatment was however extremely +weak and the progress towards emancipation extremely slow. Just +as oppressive government, with its police persecution, gags open +discontent and drives the forces of revolt under ground, so the tyranny +over the German and Scandinavian women—when tradition and prejudice +prevented open manifestations—developed in the hearts of women, +especially among the most gifted, a dangerously strong spirit of revolt. + +Already at the time when Ibsen began to write there were numerous +but isolated outbreaks. The old treatment, which generally resulted +in turning the married woman into a dull, despondent house-slave, a +soured invalid, a nagging scold, or a gossiping zany, began to produce +scoffing Aspasias, neurotic adventuresses, and here and there avenging +furies. + +This tendency to revolt among the women was stronger in Norway than in +the other countries, because it developed parallel with that ethical +awakening—the new _Aand_[1]—which during the latter part of this +century has taken possession of so many Norwegian minds; also because +the strongly imaginative and contemplative character of the Norwegian +people, and the intensely emotional nature of their women, led them +to brood over their wrongs in a thoroughly Norwegian fashion. Better +education and wide reading tended in the same direction. + + [Footnote 1: _Aand_, the Norwegian for spirit, inspiration.] + +Ibsen has therefore not Ibsenized the Scandinavian ladies. He has +simply seized upon a social phenomenon and, understanding its gravity, +has held it up to his contemporaries for a study and a warning. + +Nordau, having committed the egregious mistake of believing that Ibsen +has invented whereas he has in reality only copied, and that a social +phenomenon which is natural to intellectual and moral progress is a +result of Ibsen’s writings, is, in his capacity of the most German of +Germans, naturally wroth with Ibsen for representing as a social evil +what a normal sound-minded common-sense German—the very type of the +non-degenerate—would consider as a useful and comfortable arrangement. +There are several excuses for Nordau’s belief that Ibsen misrepresents +reality. The improvement in woman’s status in society has no doubt +advanced more in Germany than in the Scandinavian countries. It is +possible that the Dowager Empress’s influence as an Englishwoman has +not been so great as is generally supposed, but there can be little +doubt that English novels, from Charlotte Bronté’s _Jane Eyre_ upwards, +have considerably furthered justice towards German women. The close +business connections between Germany and England, the numerous Germans +who have had a long experience of English life, have no doubt done much +to spread English social views in Germany. + +The German women may therefore now have less cause for discontent and +revolt than the Scandinavian women, and it is excusable if the Germans +consider that they treat them fairly and well. + +To observing Englishmen who visit Germany it is however clear that the +whole Philistine idea of the housewife is still prevailing in that +country. A great number of husbands consider it a distinct advantage +to be able to throw off all restraint in their own homes and to compel +their wives to accommodate themselves as well as they can to their +whims, their habits, their indulgences. That exasperating type, the +house-tyrant, which is found in all countries, and not seldom in +England, is especially prevalent in Germany. + +German men are well aware that their wives have nothing in common +with the fascinating ideal woman of their imagination, and they are +quite satisfied that it should be so. Their work, their studies, their +profession, or their business demands all their attention, and they +could not dream of dismissing them from their minds when they enter +their homes. A woman who would distract her husband’s attention from +such important subjects would be an impediment to his success, while +the typical housewife, by her cares and ministrations, furthers it. +Like most men, Germans have chivalrous leanings, and enjoy a courteous +intercourse with ladies, but it is generally not their wives who reap +the advantages of this taste. It is the other ladies, those they +meet in society, and not seldom do they muster all their powers of +gallantry, all their means of pleasing, and all their faculty to amuse +in the company of women of light character, often in every respect +inferior to their wives. + +It is those German women who feel that their happiness and their +lives have been sacrificed, not for their husbands, but to a vicious +conception of married life, who sympathize with the women of Ibsen, and +have thus contributed largely to the fame of that dramatist in Germany. + +Ibsen has not Ibsenized the German ladies, but his pieces have revealed +the existence of a grudge long harboured by German women. + +It is only just to record that, though Englishwomen, especially those +who live and are treated up to the English ideal, as we mentioned +before, live under much happier circumstances as children, girls, +_fiancées_, and wives, there are many of our countrywomen whose +marriages have been a cruel disillusion. Many Englishmen marry too +young, before they know their own minds, and under the feverish +impulse of a first love. When such young husbands are thoughtless, +selfish, or when they have made a bad choice, a miserable married +life is the result. In a great number of young households happiness +prevails, thanks to the strong-mindedness and tact of the young wife, +who can take care of herself and of her husband also. But thousands of +marriages turn out utter failures, not for want of love, but from the +husband’s utter ignorance of how to take care of his wife’s health, +beauty, and happiness. + +Though it is the fashion in this country not to adapt but to translate +literally Ibsen’s pieces, there would be no difficulty to so adapt them +as to render them exact representations of the state of many an English +home. And this is sufficient to explain his fame in England. Here, +as on the continent, it is the selfish, mean, bullying husbands who +cannot find any sense in Ibsen’s pieces, and who are extremely shocked +at what they consider Ibsen’s perversion in attempting to enlist, by +inexplicable devices, the sympathies of the audience for the erring +wife, when these should be vouchsafed to the husband, who appears to be +such a respectable, common-sense man. + +When Ibsen thus calls attention to the importance and the gravity of +the feeling of revolt which has long rankled in the minds of thinking +women all over the world, and which manifested itself long before +Ibsen’s pieces were known outside Norway, he cannot fairly be said +to be responsible for the growing discontent. In reality, he has +rendered the world a great service: for the new views and aspirations +of modern educated women can neither be suppressed nor ignored without +considerable danger to society. + +In order to understand that the demand for the purification of +marriage is not a transitory whim, it will suffice to consider who +made the marriage laws, and, what is more important, who inaugurated +the traditional views concerning them. Men alone did. Not the young +men, who would be largely swayed by the yearning for true love and +by chivalrous considerations, but the law-makers of old; that is to +say, elderly men of influence and fortune. In the olden times, when +the foundations of social customs were laid, the rights of women +were considerably less respected than in our days; and under such +circumstances the law-makers did not feel called upon to consider woman +to any large extent, but made laws and introduced customs which suited +themselves. What they wanted was, firstly, to marry young and beautiful +wives, despite all objections that might be raised against their +age, their looks, or their characters, and without much troublesome +courtship; and, secondly, to keep their young wives in subjection by +sheer force and legal compulsion. + +It is not reasonable to suppose that the fair sex should submit for +ever to such treatment, and, as the women in the English-speaking +countries have already gained large concessions, it is natural that +their sisters in the rest of the civilized world should struggle for +reform. + +It is therefore difficult to see why Nordau should consider Ibsen’s +influence so dangerous to society as to deem it necessary to hold him +up as a degenerate. The enigma becomes more puzzling when we find that +Nordau frankly allows that Ibsen has great merits and great talents. +He says, for instance: “Henrik Ibsen is a poet of great verve and +power.” “He has the gift of depicting in an exceptionally lifelike +and impressive manner that which has excited his feelings.” “He has +the capacity for imagining situations in which the characters are +forced to turn inside out their inmost nature, in which abstract ideas +transform themselves into deeds, and moods of opinion and of feeling, +imperceptible to the senses but potent as causes, are made patent to +sight and hearing in attitudes and gestures, in the play of feature, +and in words.” “He knows how to group events into living frescoes +possessing the charm of significant pictures... not like Wagner, with +strange costumes and properties, architectural splendour, mechanical +magic, gods and fabulous beasts, but with penetrating vision into the +background of souls and the conditions of humanity.... But he does not +allow the imagination of the spectator to run riot in mere spectacles; +he forces them into moods, he binds them by his spell in circles of +ideas, through the pictures which he unrolls before them.” “The power +with which Ibsen, in a few rapid strokes, sketches a situation, an +emotion, a dim-lit depth of the soul, is very much higher than his +skill, so much extolled, of foreshortening in time... Each of the terse +words which suffice him has something of the nature of a peep-hole, +through which limitless vistas are obtained. The plays of all peoples +of all ages have few situations at once so perfectly simple and so +irresistibly affecting.” + +Further on he again says: “It must be acknowledged that Ibsen has +created some characters possessing a truth to life and a completeness +such as are not to be met with in any poet since Shakespeare... None +the less no poet since the illustrious Spanish master (Cervantes) has +succeeded in creating such an embodiment of plain, jolly, healthy +common-sense, of practical tact without anxiety as to things eternal, +and of honest fulfilment of all proximate, obvious duties without a +suspicion of higher moral obligations, as this Gina.... Hjalmar also +is a perfect creation, in which Ibsen has not once succumbed to the +cogent temptation to exaggerate, but has exercised most entrancingly +that ‘self-restraint’ in every word which, as Goethe says, ‘reveals the +master.’” + +We have quoted somewhat lengthily from this eulogy of Ibsen in order +to render justice both to him and to Nordau. There is no passage in +Nordau’s book which displays more insight into dramatic art and a more +intelligent appreciation of some of the subtle but marvellous merits of +Ibsen’s plays. We should not have thought it possible that so keen an +appreciation could have been formed without seeing Ibsen’s pieces acted +in the original language. This eulogy becomes all the more valuable +when we remember that it emanates from one of Ibsen’s opponents—from +a man who would fain restrain Ibsen from writing at all, and who +evidently has not paid any attention to the slow but important social +struggle which Ibsen so frequently illustrates. + +Most people who have read these and other acknowledgments on the part +of Nordau of Ibsen’s talent, will be struck with the reckless manner +in which Nordau defeats his own object. He wishes to warn the world +against “degenerates” of Ibsen’s type, and at the same time praises him +as few writers have been praised, seemingly without considering that in +this manner he inspires thousands of young writers with the ambition to +be degenerates as Ibsen is. + +To the average reader Nordau suggests the idea of the impossibility +of reconciling so much power, genius, talent, and craftsmanship with +decayed mental faculties. This all the more as Ibsen’s pieces are +financial successes, and he consequently shows a solid capacity for +the management of his own affairs, which, as Nordau has already told +us, and every alienist would tell us, is the safest test of a sound +brain. The conclusion seems inevitable that Nordau is either utterly +wrong when he sees all these merits in Ibsen’s work, or else when he +considers him to be degenerate. + +In examining the grounds on which Nordau strives to establish his +theory of degeneracy we shall no doubt find that the latter alternative +is the true one. + +Nordau first impeaches Ibsen’s reputation for realism, but takes +this term in its most literal sense. The stage has its limitations, +and the dramatist must have a certain licence in the creating of +his situations. Ibsen is not called a realist because all that he +represents on the stage is in closer conformity with reality than the +representations of practically any other dramatist ever were, but +because his characters, besides being individually true to nature, are +types—strongly coloured types, it may be, but not too strongly coloured +to be understood by an average audience. In a piece not intended to be +played the characters may be more delicately moulded, but when they +are to be grasped in a few flashes before the footlights they must, +like the statue intended for an elevated position, be hewn in bold +proportions. + +In order to show how unreal Ibsen is, Nordau asks whether it is +probable that the joiner, Engstrand (in _Ghosts_), wishing to open +a tavern for sailors, should call upon his own daughter to be the +odalisque of his “establishment.” By using the word “odalisque,” and +by placing the word “establishment” between inverted commas, he gives +a distorted idea of the tavern Engstrand is going to open. It is a +question of a real tavern, not of an “establishment.” Girls in similar +taverns in Norway are of course exposed to temptations and sometimes to +insults, but they are by no means necessarily unchaste. In selecting +the employment in the tavern, Ibsen succeeds in giving an insight into +the Philistine character of Engstrand, who for the sake of money would +risk his daughter’s reputation, but who could always fall back on the +excuse that he did not intend to ruin her. + +Nordau may be right when he says that no Paris doctor would have told +Oswald Alving in _Ghosts_ that he had softening of the brain. But Ibsen +does not say “softening of the brain”; he makes Alving say “a kind +of softening of the brain,” an expression which might very well be +Oswald’s interpretation of what the doctor had told him in very guarded +words. Moreover it is not as an alienist that Ibsen has gained his +fame; it is as a dramatist. + +Nordau quotes as another example of unreality, the sense in which the +term “society” is used by the characters in the _Pillars of Society_. +This is an error into which Nordau has evidently been led by reading +a bad German translation of the piece. Ibsen’s characters do not +mean “social edifice,” as Nordau pedantically will have it, but the +well-to-do people in the community. + +Again, he thinks that excuse very unreal which Berneck gives to his +foreman, whom he has not taken into his confidence. But this unreality +is precisely what Ibsen wishes the public to see, and he has evidently +not accentuated the unreality sufficiently, as this has escaped even +Nordau. Nordau does not find the speech of Pastor Rörlund realistic +enough. The fact is that the speech is a delightful parody, in no way +exaggerated, of those addresses which toadying sycophants all the world +over are in the habit of delivering to a magnate whom they desire to +propitiate. Any one who has heard such a speech in Norway will be +amusedly surprised by its comic realism. + +It would be tiresome to go minutely into the proofs of unreality +Nordau finds in Ibsen’s pieces, and the bare mention of the following +examples will suffice to show the futility of his attempt. He considers +it impossible for a man of forty-three to inspire love, and this in +Norway, where people develop and ripen so slowly. He thinks it unreal +for an excitable girl to describe as a storm on the sea the passion +which induces her to encourage her rival’s suicide, and then when +the rival is out of the way patiently to devote a year and a half +to gaining the love for which her sin was committed. Our alienist, +who displays throughout his book an utter lack of the sense of the +ridiculous, finds the scene between Ellida, Wangel, and the Stranger +in _The Lady from the Sea_ ridiculous, a scene which thousands of +audiences have followed in breathless silence and with deep emotion. + +The puzzle is why Nordau is so anxious to show that Ibsen is not a +realist, and how his not being a realist can possibly be construed into +an argument in favour of his insanity. Are then all the people who, as +a matter of taste or as a matter of business, supply the public with +unrealistic dramas to be considered more or less demented? If this is +the case, what becomes of the mental sanity of Nordau’s great model, +Goethe, the author of the intensely unreal _Faust_? + +Referring to the theory of heredity, frequently alluded to in Ibsen’s +works, Nordau says he cannot preserve his gravity when Ibsen displays +his scientific or medical knowledge. Here again we are tempted to refer +to the sandal-maker and the sandal-strings; but there is actually no +occasion to do so, because Ibsen displaying his medical knowledge is a +picture conjured up by Nordau’s own imagination. We do not know what +Ibsen does in his private life, but in his dramatic works he does not +display his medical knowledge. What suits Nordau’s purpose to give +as Ibsen’s opinions are the opinions of his characters, who, being +true to nature, speak as their prototypes in reality speak. It suits +Ibsen’s dramatic purposes to make use of certain views on heredity, +and he is all the more entitled to do so as such opinions are very +prevalent nowadays, and not without exercising a considerable influence +on people’s minds. Ibsen may have exactly the same opinion as his +characters give expression to, or he may think the very opposite, +but those who thoroughly understand Ibsen’s method will be convinced +that he would not commit the mistake, so common among dramatists, of +allowing his characters to reflect the author’s personality. When +Regina, in _Ghosts_, in reply to Mrs. Alving, who is harping on +heredity, says, “What must be, must be... I take after my mother I dare +say,” she does not express Ibsen’s opinion about heredity, but that +fatalistic notion which is unfortunately extremely common among women, +especially when in trouble or at fault, and a reference to her mother +is only a confirmation of her fatalistic belief, at which she clutches +that she may rid herself of her responsibility. + +If we must look for a tendency in Ibsen’s works, it might be found in +his attempt to show up this generally prevailing weakness in will and +character which Nordau himself finds everywhere and which he calls +degeneration. Regina, as well as Oswald, are “frightful examples” of +this weakness, and in placing them on the stage Ibsen has the same +object as Nordau, namely, to exhibit a deplorable defect in modern +society. Ibsen may therefore be looked upon as Nordau’s co-operator, +and even precursor, because Ibsen’s characters are types of that very +degeneration which Nordau desires to combat. In fact, the importance +that our alienist attaches to Ibsen’s characters suggests the idea +that if there were no Ibsen there would be no Nordau. By the aid of an +extremely confused and distorted reasoning, he condemns Ibsen for that +very weakness which he, like Nordau, has discovered in modern society +and incarnated in his characters as a warning to his contemporaries. + +If we had not a strong objection to the _tu quoque_ argument, and were +not resolved to avoid it, we could here say a great deal about Nordau’s +condemnation of Ibsen’s supposed illogical references to heredity, +while Nordau himself yields to the temptation of using the absurdest +logic in order to discover supposed proofs in favour of his own pet +theories. + +Even supposing that Ibsen did believe in heredity, is he not in harmony +with his time? One does not require to be an alienist or a biologist +to understand that the Darwinian theory of evolution is the theory of +heredity; and one does not require to be very old to have observed +that the characteristics of parents often repeat themselves in their +children. In his criticism of Ibsen, Nordau seems to go too far when +he casts discredit on the theory of heredity, with regard to which he +himself goes to an extreme when he attributes to heredity the lurking +belief in a personal God in the inmost recesses of the consciousness of +certain scientists. The manner in which he refers to little Hedwig’s +blindness will certainly induce his readers to infer that he himself +does not believe in cases of hereditary blindness—an affliction +which has however come within the knowledge of many. Nordau, in his +purposeless eagerness to tear Ibsen down from his pedestal, seems to +imagine that he would further his object if he could show that Ibsen +is influenced by the religion of his childhood, of his youth, and of +his country. To be influenced by such religion has been the case with +many sane people of strong mind, especially in countries where the +morality implanted in young children is based entirely on religious +instruction. Even when a man ceases to believe literally all that has +been taught him, it is natural that his religious thoughts should mould +themselves on the early impressions, which then become symbols instead +of fact. This is especially natural with people whose walk in life has +precluded them from giving that absorbing attention to psychology and +biology which to a sound mind is indispensable before it can master, +or believe, the scientists’ theories of “mechanical causality,” and +the annihilation of the conscious _Ego_. Nordau, like many other +scientific enthusiasts, seems to labour under the impression that all +the loud-voiced people, who affect complete irreligiosity, and who pose +as free-thinkers, are really convinced that the scientific discovery +of yesterday, which might be upset by the discovery of to-morrow, +sufficiently explains the world and themselves. This is far from being +the case. How often when we scratch the atheist do we not find the +superstitiously devout. How many men could be found in the world who +are so capable of satisfying all their curiosity regarding the unknown +by scientific theories that they might be quoted in support of the +artificiality of religious instincts? They would certainly number very +few. And yet scientists of Nordau’s stamp are apt to regard such men as +the only really sane ones, and the rest of humanity as to some extent +degenerate. + +But how does Nordau know anything about Ibsen’s religious opinions? He +simply studies the characters in Ibsen’s pieces and takes for granted +that Ibsen must necessarily hold the same opinions as his characters. +This absurd assumption, indispensable to his purpose, leads him +sometimes into ridiculous dilemmas from which he escapes in a not less +ridiculous manner. When he finds that Ibsen has _dramatis personæ_ of +diametrically opposed opinions and beliefs, he does not know which +of them represents Ibsen’s opinions and Ibsen’s beliefs. Determined +not to notice the simple fact that none of them represent Ibsen’s +views, he falls back on the expediency of declaring that, because his +characters differ, Ibsen does not know his own mind, a fact which in +our alienist’s view points to degeneracy. + +He quotes copiously from Ibsen’s pieces in order to show that those +characters who have committed evil deeds, without having resigned +themselves to being utterly bad, yearn for confession. From this +we must conclude that Nordau considers a longing for confession in +those who have sinned as an obsession and as pertaining to stigmata +of degeneration. To make capital out of this, Nordau sticks hard to +his assumption that Ibsen’s object is to preach some kind of creed by +proclaiming his own opinions through his characters. Few people in the +world really know what Ibsen’s final object and real aims are; but his +immediate object, it will be granted, is to show his contemporaries +what they really are, and so sternly and so cogently does he pursue +this object that, while other dramatists show their spectators the +defects of others, Ibsen lays bare their own. + +In showing sinners’ yearnings for confession, Ibsen could not therefore +be wrong unless a longing for confession in sinners is unreal or +unusual. Far from being unusual, we find it in almost every human +being, from the innocent child down to the brutal criminal. The police +and law-court reports in England frequently relate cases in which +men and women confess crimes which would never have been discovered, +simply to satisfy a conscience yearning for confession. We have nothing +to do here with the question as to whether this first step towards a +better life is longed for in obedience to an instinct implanted in the +emotional nature of man by a Creator, or whether it is the consequence +of an inherited tendency originated by religious teaching and moral +civil laws. We have only to deal with the fact that the conscience of +all evil-doers, and especially of those who are willing to abandon +evil and return to good, prompts them to confess. Nordau has only to +consult a Catholic priest in order to learn how strong and general this +yearning is. + +It must also be remembered that confession, if not to priests yet to +God, is part of the Lutheran creed prevailing in Norway, and that +consequently confession is regarded by the people as the test of +true repentance. Though auricular confession is not a sacrament in +the Lutheran Church, the Norwegian ministers could tell Nordau how +often sinners and criminals ease their consciences by confessing to +them. It is hardly possible to write a serious dramatic piece without +representing a struggle between good and evil. And how then could Ibsen +write dramas true to Norwegian life, without instancing that yearning +for confession which is the outward sign of the inward struggle between +good and evil? + +Nordau instances the French assassin Avinain, who before being +guillotined gave out as his life’s motto “Never confess,” as an example +of a strong and healthy mind—or, at least, he regards this motto as one +which only a strong and healthy mind can follow. On the other hand, he +regards confessing men as men “in whom the mechanism of inhibition is +always disordered, and who therefore cannot escape from the impulse to +confess when anything of an absorbing or exciting character exists in +their consciousness.” + +In this comparison Nordau omits the chief factor—the religious opinion, +or the philosophy which necessarily determines whether the confession +is a sign of strength or weakness. If the murderer Avinain was a +confirmed atheist, and if his emotional nature was such as to glorify +murder, then he had no impulse to confess, and consequently required no +strength of mind to resist confession. If the man who glories in what +is good—or, to use an expression of Nordau’s, who has social instincts, +and consequently believes that confession is his duty and an heroic +action—should shun the ordeal and prefer to spend the rest of his life +as a self-despising hypocrite, this would be weak-mindedness. Of course +Nordau may always argue that to believe in the good and in personal +responsibility is in itself a sign of degeneration. But this would be +simply to place the question on another plane, where we have already +discussed it. + +What is said here about confession applies equally to what Nordau says +about redemption. It is not, as he states, an obsession of Ibsen’s, but +a symbol very natural to a people of strong religious feelings. His +characters could not possibly express their ideas and their emotions +in any other way than that in which they have been in the habit of +thinking all their lives. + +Nordau cannot rid himself of the obsession that the dramatist must +necessarily take a side in the squabble between religion and science, +and between the devotees of different social panaceas, and seems +exasperated because he cannot get at Ibsen’s real opinion on such +questions. When he persists in his egregious error of taking the +opinions of Ibsen’s characters as those of Ibsen, his mind gets into +a maze, which leads him to the conclusion that it is Ibsen’s mind, +not his own, that has got into a confused state. It is very common to +find a man, who, by dint of study or by natural talent, has become an +authority on one subject, so far losing his power of self-criticism as +to believe himself a universal genius, capable of dogmatizing on every +subject under the sun. It is this conceit that induces successful +men to imagine that their natural specialty is not that one which has +rendered them famous, but some other specialty for which in reality +they have no aptitude whatever. A successful comedian believes himself +to be hardly dealt with because he is not acknowledged as a tragedian. +A musician considers himself an authority on the drama. The poet thinks +he ought to have been a politician. Biologists imagine they would shine +as social reformers. + +It is because Ibsen has not yielded to this weakness, because he has +not the conceit to lay down the law on questions outside his own +province, but simply aspires to be a dramatist, that Nordau complains +so bitterly of Ibsen’s omission to express a distinct opinion on all +sorts of subjects on which Nordau burns to break a lance with him. He +tilts against the opinions expressed by Ibsen’s characters with the +wasted fury of Don Quixote attacking windmills. + +We are at a loss to account for the contradictions of which Nordau +appears to be guilty. Much of what he says in the latter part of his +essay on Ibsen is in direct contradiction to what he says in the +earlier part, where his praise of Ibsen’s talents and abilities is +conspicuous. We will give an example of what we mean. He says at the +beginning of his chapter: “Each of the terse words which suffice him +[Ibsen] has something of the nature of a peep-hole, through which +limitless vistas are obtained.” Towards the end of it he says: “Thus +Ibsen’s drama is like a kaleidoscope in a sixpenny bazaar. When one +looks through the peep-hole, one sees at each shaking of the cardboard +tube new and parti-coloured combinations. Children are amused at this +toy, but adults know that it contains only splinters of coloured glass, +always the same, inserted haphazard and united into mystical figures by +three bits of looking-glass, and they soon tire of the expressionless +arabesque.” + +Can this contradiction be the result of his great trust in authorities, +and has he made use of two that clash, or does he write for writing’s +sake, differently each day according to the mood he happens to be in? + +When Ibsen’s characters give expression to their yearnings for greater +personal liberty, for a revolt against social traditions which threaten +to wreck their lives, and which they have beheld wrecking the lives of +hundreds around them, they are intended by the dramatist to show what +is going on in modern society. Nordau of course concludes that Ibsen is +an egomaniac who resents any bonds on his worst instincts. Supposing +that Ibsen shares personally that same longing for more individual +freedom which Nordau so warmly deprecates, it is evident that they +differ simply because Nordau starts from the supposition that men’s +instincts are necessarily bad, and Ibsen from the supposition that they +are good. + +The fundamental difference in opinion mainly springs from the different +circumstances amongst which the two men have been born and brought up. +The German, who has all his life been impressed with the necessity of +officialism and police government, who has lived under the impression +that his castle would be attacked by a lower caste when free to follow +its inclinations, would naturally attach great importance to existing +institutions. If he at the same time be illogical enough to sap at the +root of that great order-producing institution—religion—and beholds +that this safeguard is becoming more and more unreliable, he naturally +looks for something to take its place. + +The German social system, so unjust to the working classes, has +naturally embittered the people and enlisted a number of working men +into the revolutionary parties, and this growing army of so-called +enemies to society naturally alarms the German middle-class man and +prejudices him against the proletariat. Passions and destructive +instincts, instilled by long suffering, he is apt to regard as human +nature from which the worst must be expected. This explains many +of Nordau’s contradictions. He wishes to abolish religion because +its abolition would glorify science, but he wishes to retain the +marriage laws because he fears that without them an unspeakable state +of immorality would ensue. He denies a divine plan in creation which +might account for the moral instinct in man, but he does not believe +that morality has sprung from the only remaining source, namely, man’s +experience of the advantages of morality. His habit of bowing to +authorities causes him to believe that morality and a pure family life +are the result of the marriage laws, and not that the marriage laws are +the result of man’s love of morality and of a pure family life. + +The Norwegian is born and brought up in a country where liberty has +been the basis and safeguard of moral order; where few police are found +in the cities, and where, throughout vast tracts of country, man’s good +instincts are the only police; where the peasant and working classes +have no desire or intention to attack the wealthy; where the people +are religious because they are honest and not honest because they +are religious; where self-esteem and justice would take the place of +religion were it to crumble. The Norwegian has noticed that the poor +are more generous than the rich, that the people are more honest than +their officials, that the free man and woman are more moral than the +tied ones, and that liberty elevates and oppressive laws degrade. If +the Norwegian seems to attach little importance to legal marriage, it +is because, in cleansing it from mercenary considerations and other low +motives, he hopes to base it on such foundations as moral instinct, +love, self-respect, honour, and possibly on religious belief, and +thereby make it a life-long reality. It is not to gratify low instincts +and licentious passions, as Nordau would have it, that he wishes for +reform. He may be mistaken in his motives, but this is no excuse for +attributing vile motives to him. + +Nordau is not the only one who is puzzled by the many peculiarities +of Ibsen’s plays. Like him, many English theatre-goers wonder why +his best types and his leading characters, as a rule, are so void of +nobility, fine feeling, and high principles; why he always places his +scenes in small towns, and not among the romantically wild country +and the picturesque peasants, as Björnsen and Jonas Lie have often +done; why he represents the so-called respectable and official classes +in so unfavourable a light; why his women seem to be morally and +intellectually superior to his men. + +In order to elucidate these questions and many other peculiarities +in Ibsen’s plays and characters, as well as some of the reasons why +a German critic should disapprove of Ibsen, it should be remembered +that in Norway two cultures have met and struggled—the German and +Scandinavian—but have not blended. + +Of the Scandinavian nations, the Norwegians may be considered as the +extreme type. While they differ from the Danes and Swedes considerably, +they differ still more from the Germans. Their characteristics arise +not only from race, but largely from surroundings and modes of life. +The genuine Norwegian people have of old lived scattered over a vast +area of country, separated by high fjelds and broad fjords, foaming +torrents and dense woods, only sparingly communicating with each other, +and still less with strangers, and hearing little of the outside world, +they have grown into a silent, thinking, and deep-feeling nation. +They have inherited from the old Viking times an unquenchable love of +liberty, and all their institutions, their customs, their principles, +have developed in freedom, and such virtues as they have and of +which they are most proud, are the outcome of personal independence. +Accustomed to personal danger on the snow-clad mountain-paths, in the +vast forests, and in small open boats upon the stormy fjords, they +have acquired an extraordinary degree of self-reliance. Unused to, +and distrustful of, foreign ways, and seldom successful in foreign +countries, they harbour an intense love of Norway and for anything +Norwegian; and while they may conceitedly think that everything that +is Norwegian is great and noble, they certainly endeavour to put a +stamp of nobility and greatness on everything that is Norwegian. They +are proud, generous, loyal, hospitable, and can never be persuaded +that lowly circumstances or poverty could possibly be an excuse for an +unroyal conduct. + +Born and bred amid snow-capped mountains, deep valleys, perpendicular +rocks, a jagged, stormy coast—the whole wearing an air of solemn +and lonely grandeur—the Norwegians are a meditative and highly +imaginative people. The stirring natural phenomena peculiar to the +country cannot fail to stimulate their imagination. The snow-storms, +the ice-avalanches, the light summer nights, the brilliant moonlight +diffused over the abrupt mountains, the dark forests and the glittering +fjords, the raging storms from the Atlantic, the flaming midnight +winter skies, the sunsets which so wondrously illumine the whole +coast-line—such scenes, such pictures, sink into their minds and +quicken their emotions. + +What wonder, then, if they are full of folk-lore and the supernatural +has for them an irresistible charm? They are superstitious, and believe +that their actions and lives are influenced by gnomes, fairies, and +trolls. Old heathen ceremonies for the propitiation of the spirits are +still in vogue. They are deeply moved by music and poetry, and have a +strong predilection for all that is heroic and great. + +It is not surprising that in German translations of Norwegian +writings—for which Nordau blames Ibsen’s degeneracy—adjectives should +have taken a new meaning; for in Norway they have been influenced by +nature’s grandeur. When Norwegians say “great,” they mean great as the +fjeld, great as the boundless ocean; when they say “silent,” they mean +silent as the wood in the short summer night. Consequently, when a +man, an action, a thing, is described to them, they are apt to measure +it by the standard of nature’s extremes around them. They are always +disappointed when they behold the wonders of civilization described to +them as great and wonderful. They would call the ruins of the Coliseum +mean, and think no more of the pyramids than of ant-hills. Their ideas +of a great man could probably never be realized, and their wonder is +considerable at finding the mighty lords of England so unlike demi-gods. + +It was the Hanseatic League that brought this stern and haughty people +into contact with German culture. This remarkable federation of +enterprising German merchants discovered that profits could be made out +of the rough products of Norway, and they founded a German colony in +Bergen, which rose to considerable importance. German traders gradually +settled in all the other important Norwegian centres, and the whole +commercial life of Norway became more or less Germanized. + +At the time Germany was far ahead of Norway in everything appertaining +to industry, and was already then bent on doing business with foreign +countries by offering them a mass of German manufactured goods of +attractive appearance, but of little value, and not indispensable +to a people like the Norwegians. Competition was already severe in +Germany, money had acquired an immense importance, success in life +was most easily attained by intense application to business, saving, +and grinding. The German traders stood in the same relation to the +Norwegians as that in which English traders stand to the native races +whom they first approach for business purposes. The traders and agents +who went as far as Norway—a long distance before the days of steamers +and railways—were daring and reckless men, bent upon making money, +just as the pioneers of British commerce were and are in Africa. What +interested them was not the great and noble aspect of the Norwegian +character, but the desire on the part of these people to buy gewgaws, +and the facility with which they parted with their money and their +goods. + +Though Norway is a poor country, it yielded to the not over-ambitious +Germans a satisfactory harvest, and a great number of them settled +permanently in the Norwegian towns. They became sufficiently numerous +and influential to impress a German stamp on Norwegian urban life, on +the people who worked and lived with them; and these became Germanized +to no small extent. + +These middle-class Germans were no doubt excellent, respectable people +in their way, but they had little in common with the Norwegian country +folk. They were better educated, they had more worldly wisdom, their +experience in their own cities had trained them to subject their +emotional nature to their intellect. In order to push on to success in +their German communities, where antagonistic and powerful magnates left +but little scope for daring and straightforwardness, they had learned +to value diplomacy and discretion. + +They had no sympathies with the natives, whom they regarded as +semi-barbarians, and all their intercourse with them was diplomatic and +insincere, and their sole motive was profit. The honesty, the pride, +the generosity of the Norwegian peasantry were well known to them, but +they took advantage of these characteristics, which they regarded as +expensive luxuries. + +The cities however became the seats of the educational establishments, +and the Norwegian youth who were intended for the professions came to +the cities and mingled there with the German element. On the other +hand, the sons of the citizens went into the country in professional +capacities and created there a middle class strongly impregnated with +German culture. In this manner a sharp line of demarcation arose +between the upper and middle classes on the one hand and the peasantry +on the other, the former being strongly influenced by German culture, +the latter clinging tenaciously to the Norwegian. + +It is no slur on the German character and German culture to say that it +involved degeneration in no small degree. It partook of the drawbacks +of our civilization, and what happened in Norway has happened in every +country where modern civilization has come into contact with nations +whose virtues and noble qualities have rested as much on ignorance and +the absence of temptation as on inborn worth. Thanks to the historical +development we have indicated, the Norwegian upper and middle +classes, as well as the whole of the urban populations, developed +characteristics which drew upon them the contempt of the peasants. +Their eagerness for profit, their love of money, their indifference +to the great, the noble, and the beautiful, their cringing attitude +towards authorities and towards the wealthy, their sacrifice of public +interests to private welfare, their susceptibility to the influence of +foreign fashion, manners, and vices,—all this tended to lower the upper +and middle classes in the eyes of the peasants. + +When the phenomenon witnessed in all civilized countries—the +impoverishment of the masses—made its appearance, public-spirited +men began to inquire as to the causes. It was in the middle of this +century, when a spirit of revolution and reform was abroad, that the +yearning for a better state of things began to manifest itself. There +were no aristocracy, no established Church, and no privileged class to +blame for the unsatisfactory state of the country, and consequently +the investigators turned their attention to the ethical condition of +the people themselves. Comparison between the olden and the modern +times was instituted. The discrepancy between the two classes became +striking, and the corrupting influences were traced to the towns. A +strong desire to revive and strengthen the old culture took possession +of many men and women, who, though educated, had a keen sympathy with +the peasants. To found the future development of Norway on the basis of +the old Norwegian culture became the object of a new national party, +including some of the best elements of the Norwegian nation. These +enthusiasts found their expression in composers like Tjerulf, and in +the writings of men like Björnstjerne Björnsen, Jonas Lie, and Ibsen. + +The greatest mistake of these writers—the one that has entirely escaped +Nordau—is their belief that a nation can realize its best aspirations +by methods that have utterly failed in the celestial empire of China. +The hope of preserving the grand feature of the old Norwegian culture +by exclusiveness, by isolating Norway, and by offering a stubborn +resistance to foreign influence, be it good or bad—in this they +have set themselves an impossible task. A thorough national life and +development produced by such artificial means would, even if attended +by the highest degree of success, partake of a theatrical nature. The +more it succeeded, the more it would attract foreigners, and features +which in olden times sprang from the character of the people and from +natural circumstances, would fall into the line of carnivals organized +at the expense of the municipalities and of railways to Alpine summits. + +These Norwegian enthusiasts have yet to learn that though foreign +tourists, foreign literature, and foreign art place temptations in the +way of their single-minded nation, there are in every country large +numbers of people who fight for progress as sedulously as themselves, +and whose co-operation would outweigh the dangers of European +modernity. In the old culture, in the past life of nations, especially +in nations like Norway, there are great virtues and noble features +which may well serve as a goal. But to again render them a reality, to +base them on lasting foundations, a people must pass through the fiery +trials of modern temptations, and, instead of yielding plastically to +outward circumstances, must shape their destiny through sheer strength +of character. What Norway has of good and noble she should give to +other nations, and freely accept their best from them. This is an +exchange which, like mercy, blesses both giver and receiver. + +Though the struggle against degeneration is, in Norway, hampered by the +national prejudices of the leaders, it is still progressing. Ibsen’s +mission in the fight is to ruthlessly expose the stagnant pools of +corruption. He finds them in the cities and among the middle class, +where the old German Philistine features have been most distinctly +preserved. Many of his characters bear German names, and those who +take the part of the traditional villain wear often the garb of that +respectable, common-sense, matter-of-fact, self-absorbed German whom +Nordau would exempt from any stigma of degeneration. + +Thorvald Helmer, in _The Doll’s House_, has, or would have, the +sympathies of millions, not in Germany alone, but in England and +everywhere, of people whose emotional nature, whose love for the high +and noble, has been compressed by that worldly wisdom which in our +large crowded cities becomes prudence, and to obey which is often a +duty—people who are not aware that it is not only possible, but even +easy, to be both diplomatic and discreet in obedience to noble emotions +and exalted aspirations, and that to root these out of our nature is +degeneration. + +Helmer, in his sleek reasonableness, is an excellent type of meanness, +and his character is brought out in a consummately artistic way. It +exasperates Nordau that this man, who comes so near his standard of +sound-mindedness, should inspire in audiences all the world over, +especially in the female element, a sense of aversion, apparently +without any effort on the part of the author. Helmer has a keen eye +for the main chance. His reputation and his position have his first +consideration. He trembles at the idea of fighting the world without +them. His love of his wife is the quintessence of selfishness. He +loves her in the two only ways which Nordau thinks reasonable in a +human being, as a companion, as a pleasant thing to toy with; and as +the female of his race, at such periods when he, as the normal man of +Nordau, is actuated by animal impulses—for example, under the influence +of champagne. Of the pure love for a woman which in a man’s heart +remains as a spring of living water, giving him a pang of joy each +time his thoughts revert to her, and which casts a rosy tint of poetry +over life, nay even over death—of such love Helmer is as incapable as +Nordau’s normal man. + +Nora yearns for the higher, nobler love, and her lack of experience in +character-study has left her in doubt, though in hope, regarding her +husband. The moment comes when she gains certitude; and when Helmer +reveals himself in his Philistine hideousness, her spirit revolts. + +Though of course exaggerated for the sake of dramatic effect, she +is a good type of an intelligent and emotional Norwegian woman. +Norwegian girls receive a great deal of instruction, and as they have +no professions to prepare for, their education is more literary and +artistic than that of the men. They read voraciously the Norwegian +modern writers, and sympathize consequently more than the men with +the extreme nationalists. They are often strongly possessed by the +_Aand_—that indefinable yearning for all that is great and noble—in +Norwegian culture already alluded to. They have a fair knowledge of +foreign literature, and read a great many English novels. With their +admiration for English pure love, for English home life, grafted on the +grand aspirations which the new _Aand_ fosters, they may well appear +uncanny and troll-like to the prosaic German. + +We trust that the struggle between the Norwegian and the German +cultures, of which we have endeavoured to give an idea, will make it +easier for students of Ibsen to understand his characters. It is in +_The Doll’s House_ where the two inimical cultures are most clearly +personified, the old Norwegian culture being represented by the +uncompromising, impulsive, and intense Nora, and the imported German +culture by the pedantic, commonplace, and animal Helmer. + +If our interpretation is right, it is impossible that Ibsen’s work +could in any way indicate degeneration. It ought, on the contrary, +to be evident that his pieces, rendering objective as they do +the struggle for a higher and better life, based not on pedantic +considerations of immediate and unworthy advantages, but on the noble +impulses of a strong and healthy nation, are at once a summons to rise +higher, and signals pointing the way. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +_RICHARD WAGNER_ + + +We all have met with people who, without being degenerates to any +great extent repeat stories of their own invention so persistently, +that they end by believing in them. In this kind of folly, if folly +it be, there is a great deal of method when indulged in by people +who are anxious, for some reason or another, that their views should +_nolens volens_ be accepted by others. When one comes to deal with the +intellectual development of a nation or a race, and wishes to prove +certain forms of progress or retrogression, it is half the battle +to bring your opponent to believe in the existence of some special, +well-defined psychological phenomenon or social tendency, and to give +it a high-sounding name. What would astrology have been without the +horoscope, or alchemy without the philosopher’s stone? What would +modern statecraft be without such terms as “foreign competition” and +“international jealousy”? What would German socialism be without the +term “revolutionary socialism”? What would bi-metallism be without +the phrase, “the stability of the currency”? And what would Nordau’s +theory of degeneration be without the “mystic movement”? + +He takes for granted that there is such a thing as mysticism, as well +as that it constitutes a movement, and then endeavours to explain +everything as partaking of or resulting from it. According to him, +Wagnerism is the reappearance in Germany of that romanticism which +originated there, and afterwards travelled through France and England. +It reappeared, according to him, through Wagner’s degeneration, and +spread in virtue of the degeneration of his contemporaries. He says +that he finds in Wagner a greater abundance of degeneration than in +all the other degenerates put together. “The stigmata of his morbid +condition,” he says, “are united in him in the most complete and most +luxuriant development.” + +This is a bold assertion, and will appear bolder yet to any one who +has read his chapter in _The Richard Wagner Cult_. Wagner’s dislike +of the Jews, which Nordau calls anti-semitism, and his views on +social questions, which our alienist calls Anarchism, are pointed +out as unfailing stigmata of degeneration. One of the methods of our +alienist is to notice and make much of certain extreme opinions in +people who are actually made, or who have made themselves, intensely +objectionable, and then to point out that similar opinions and ideas +are present in the mind of some celebrity, and then to draw the +conclusion that this celebrity must be on the road to madness. Either +he does not see himself, or he trusts his readers will not see, that +by such methods every man in the world might be proved to some extent +deranged. He forgets that exaggerated virtues become vices, and that +some of the most prominent men in the world have had idiosyncrasies +to which they have even given considerable play without at all coming +within the range of degeneration. + +The anti-semitism in Germany, which Nordau ascribes to +degeneration—probably with the approval of the majority of Jews—in that +country, as well as in Russia, France, and the United States, springs +from causes so patent, that no man who aspires to be considered an +acute observer of his time should ignore them. + +Let us instance Russia first—a country where the latest wave of +anti-semitism first took a violent form. Can any one who is acquainted +with the typical financial history of the Russian villages wonder +that the Jews in Russia should be looked upon as a scourge? What has +happened in thousands of such villages is this. An energetic, clever +Jew settles amongst the Russian _moujiks_, who combine thriftlessness +and love of an easy life with many of the good qualities and innocence +of primitive races. The Jew is bent on making money, and caring little +about the opinion the community may form of him, and too brave to fear +their enmity, he has no hesitation in taking up any kind of business, +however unpopular it may render him. He willingly becomes a publican, +a pawnbroker, a land-grabber, and, in combination with other Jews, a +speculator and cornerer. His attention to business, his self-denial, +his hardheartedness to his customers, his knowledge of the tricks of +trades and finance, the ready support he gets from his co-religionists +in other districts in carrying out his purposes, however derogatory +they may be to the community—all this soon renders him the master of +the situation. The stranger, who at first in such a friendly spirit +invited his customer to drink his _vodka_ and borrow his money, is soon +transformed into a harsh tyrant who, by hook or by crook, came into +possession of all the belongings of the villagers, and calmly makes +use of their destitution to extort from them their future earnings. +The Jews, as a rule, on the one hand, and the Russians on the other, +form diametrically opposite views on this social phenomenon. The Jews +say, and Nordau evidently sides with them, that this successful village +tyrant has done nothing to deserve blame. He has only been more frugal, +more thrifty, and more intelligent than the Russians, who were bound by +their inferior character to go to the wall; and that if Russia hates +the Jews, it is with that hatred against successful men common in +human failures. + +The ruined Russian peasants simply know that the Jew who came among +them is rich and they are poor, that what used to be their possessions +form his wealth, and that the means he has used to obtain it would not +have been used by them under any circumstances. They think they have +been robbed, and that they and their descendants would be robbed by +the Jew and his descendants if they cannot be freed from him. Hence +anti-semitism in Russia. + +Nordau has no right to call the anti-semitists degenerate, even +though they be wrong in their logic, because he is wrong himself, and +he cannot point to ruined homes and wrecked lives as a substantial +foundation for his opinion. + +In Germany the Jews play the same part, though under modified +conditions. Though bad, German laws and German officialism are better +than those of Russia, and the German people do not so easily fall a +prey to the strong-minded Jew. But, on the other hand, the Jews make +themselves obnoxious in other ways, both in Germany and Austria. Here +they act everywhere as trade-spoilers. The Jew undersells everybody. He +stops short of nothing, save breaking the law, to extend his business. +He is obsequious to those in power and in wealth, but relentlessly +hard to competitors and to creditors. Many of them will take the +greatest possible advantage of other people’s, especially Christians’, +misfortunes, and will gain their end by deliberately wounding other +people’s feelings. It is the Jews who generally pay the lowest wages, +and who are found in the ranks of the sweaters. + +We hasten to state that there are in Germany a great many exceptions to +the types here referred to. But either they are not numerous enough, or +the Jew must possess some inability to show his better qualities, for +no one acquainted with the circumstances in Germany would deny that the +Jew-haters there look upon their enemies in exactly the light we have +described. + +But this is not all. Accusations are levelled against the Jews which +are partly untrue, or else vastly exaggerated, and those who make them +should be called upon to prove their statements. Whether they may be +able to do this or not, the fact remains that the Jew-hating Germans +believe that the Jews have formed one vast conspiracy, the object of +which is to secure for the Jews large advantages at the expense of the +Christians. It is alleged that the methods employed are as follows: The +Jews are supposed to meet in secret conclave, in which those of them +who desire to accomplish any special aim state it to their brethren, +who then combine in assisting them. Such aims may be the possession +of a house or a shop in the hands of a Christian, the ruin of some +obnoxious competitor, the miscarriage of some public auction of goods +coveted by some Jew, and so on. With such ideas prevailing, how is it +possible to ascribe Jew hatred to degeneracy? Such logic is all the +more surprising as it remains a palpable fact that the fortunes of the +Jewish houses are growing apace, that Jews seem to succeed no matter +what they undertake, that they certainly are more charitable to their +co-religionists than to Christians, and for that matter than Christians +are to Christians, while at the same time poverty and misery are on the +increase among the Christian masses. + +Nordau does a bad service to the Jews of Germany when he attempts +to lay the blame for anti-semitism exclusively at the door of the +Christians and calls them degenerates, while he entirely exempts the +Jews. This partiality, coupled with his contempt for the masses and his +belief in government by the more strong-minded men, points to a future +state in Germany in which the Jews should be the ruling aristocracy. +His unfairness thus, instead of abating the persecution against the +Jews, might easily be construed into an excuse for a more bitter +anti-semitism. + +This error of his is due to his besetting habit of taking his +postulates from doubtful authorities and of drawing illogical +conclusions. It is a common thing for men who have been successful +in one branch of knowledge, and who are regarded as authorities in +a specialty by others, to jump at rash conclusions with regard to +subjects on which authorities differ or do not exist. This is exactly +what Nordau does when he comes to consider facts which cannot be +rightly understood without a clear insight into sociology and other +social sciences. He then evinces impossible opinions, and gives us to +understand that he has a ready-made scheme for reconstructing society +on a new and perfect plan. + +It is not difficult to see what this plan is. It is quasi-Collectivism +and Communism. He wishes the State to become the universal heir +of all fortunes and the universal benefactor. The absurdity and +impracticability of this scheme—which, by the way, is always the very +one that first enters the head of a young student who tackles social +science for the first time—are obvious. As however he does not insist +upon his scheme in his volume _Degeneration_, it would be out of place +to explain its hollowness here. We have referred to it simply to show +that his superficiality regarding the anti-semitic question is not +incidental. It will be evident to anybody who tackles this question +with an unprejudiced mind that the Christians in Russia and Germany are +utterly at fault when they believe that they can escape from their +troubles by persecuting Jews, and also that the Jews are utterly at +fault when they attribute anti-semitism to the jealousy and wickedness +of the Christians. Both these parties, as well as Nordau himself, +allow their feelings instead of their intelligence to determine these +questions. But they are not necessarily degenerate. + +The true explanation of the imbroglio is as follows: The Jewish race, +which might have acquired a few unpleasant characteristics by no fault +of their own but through a cruel and unjust persecution for centuries, +is a highly-gifted one, distinguishing itself by strong-mindedness, +great will-power, remarkable powers of endurance, morality, and +singleness of purpose. Deprived, in a great number of countries +of social rights and the privileges of citizenship, they have for +centuries found only one way open to them by which they could attain to +independence, security, and consideration—the accumulation of wealth. +In modern times, when social institutions and laws tend to render +wealth almost omnipotent, its acquisition has become to this people of +greater importance than ever. Success in a business, however small, +may mean millions in the future, while failure may result in life-long +misery. Consequently, the Jews apply themselves to their trades or +professions with an energy and assiduity such as few races can command. + +They therefore represent a power in the development of humanity +which is bound to produce far-reaching effects. Whether these will +constitute a blessing or a curse to the nations among whom the Jews +live and work depends entirely on the institutions and the laws of +those countries. If these are such as to render the oppression of the +poor, the workers, the borrowers, the tenants—in fact, all the sections +of society on which the Jews now batten,—a condition for the thriving +of the capitalists, the employers, the lenders, the tenants, and the +fortunate classes in general—if the laws are of this description, then +the Jews will be conspicuous as the oppressors of others. But if, on +the contrary, the laws and institutions of the countries are such as to +render the success of the upper classes and leaders of trade, industry, +and finance dependent on the welfare of the workers, then the Jews will +be the most liberal lenders, the most generous employers, and the most +accommodating landlords. In fact, the question resolves itself simply +into one of demand and supply; as long as there is a greater demand +for Jews’ services than the Jews are able to supply, the latter will +dominate; but when there are more services offered on the part of the +Jews than the people can avail themselves of, these can dictate terms +to the Jews. And this relation of demand and supply depends on laws and +institutions. + +Even if Nordau’s prejudices prevented him from taking this view of +the anti-semitic question—which is not only the correct one but which +greatly facilitates the solution of the question, and thus would +prevent the disgraceful persecution which in many countries threatens +to become more serious—he might have found, by simply looking at the +actualities, in the different countries that anti-semitism prevails +in an inverse ratio to good government. He could not have asked for +a better proof of the fact that laws and institutions are at fault +and not the Jews or the Christians. To take only the two extremes: +in Russia, where the Government, from the people’s point of view, +is probably the worst in Europe, anti-semitism is most vehement; in +England, where the Government is more influenced by the consideration +of the good of the people than in any other country, there is scarcely +any animosity against the Jews, and this in spite of the efforts of +certain politicians to promote it. + +The reception of Dr. Stöcker, when he attempted to address a public +meeting in London in favour of anti-semitism, would have convinced +Nordau, had he been present, what a poor chance anti-semitism has +in a country where the working classes are free to follow those +instincts which Nordau fears so much. We may relate that hardly had +the proceedings begun when the hall was filled by labourers, who, +contrary to their habit on such occasions, had not changed their dress, +and who hooted Dr. Stöcker, stormed the platform, overpowered the +anti-semitists, and cleared the hall. + +In face of the fact that anti-semitic questions turn so entirely on +prejudices and mistakes, one cannot surely accuse Wagner of madness +because he sided with what may be called a national party, and approved +of a movement the object of which was to stay the progressive influence +of an alien race over the destiny of the Fatherland. + +In several places in his work Nordau insists upon considering the +anarchist tendencies of our age as among the stigmata of degeneration. +If he were right, we should be face to face with a calamity likely to +end in the brutalization or the annihilation of our race. For Anarchism +in some form of other is certainly spreading rapidly. That there is +Anarchism and Anarchism seems of little importance to our alienist +in his eagerness to draw his preconceived conclusions. He reasons +as usual. Starting from the hypothesis that some of the criminal +Anarchists were, to some extent, mentally deranged and morally weak, +he arrives at the conclusion that Wagner was a degenerate, because he +shared to some extent with the Anarchists the hatred of our present +social system and of the injurious effects it produces on the masses of +the people. + +Though Nordau dwells far more lengthily on poetry, and art, and cognate +subjects than on the graver question of Anarchism, there is no point on +which it behoves us better to set him and his readers right than that +of the relation between Anarchism and degeneration. + +The Anarchist is not a cause. He is an effect. There is a feeling in +the consciousness of almost every human being, be he a believer in a +divine religion or in Nordau’s religion of humanity, that our race is +destined to a high degree of development, and to a far larger sphere +of happiness than now falls to the lot of most of us. This yearning +for happiness, for elevation, is not only a feeling but a conviction +consequent upon our knowledge of the past stages of the development of +man. + +There was a time when fervent religious beliefs induced patience and +resignation under suffering, and when our future destiny was left in +the hands of Providence. But the French encyclopædists, and after them +the modern scientists, have done their best to undermine this belief +and to show us that the destiny of future generations will largely +depend upon us and themselves, that science is placing in our hands an +ever-growing control over the forces of nature, and that if humanity +suffers it is because the present generation has not the moral courage +to throw off religious scruples and boldly shape their own destiny. + +These doctrines, in unison with the general progressive spirit of +the age, led to revolutions and political reforms. In the absence +of a providence the nations shifted their faith to constitutional +governments. But the new faith did not last long. The more democratic +the governments were the more they applied the principles of +Collectivism—they yielded to those instincts which Nordau calls the +social instincts. Under the pretext of exercising paternal kindness +towards the people, the governments demanded paternal rights. +Communistic and socialistic ideas spread among the masses, who, well +aware that a providence without power would be no providence at all, +wanted to render the State omnipotent. When however socialistic +features were introduced into the constitutions, matters did not mend, +but the freedom of the individual was more and more infringed. + +When detailed schemes of further socialistic development were made +public, a great many freedom-loving men and women beheld with terror +that the chief cause of the favour with which the progressing socialism +was regarded was to be found in the plan of complete subjection of the +individual under government. + +This discovery naturally caused a reaction in favour of liberty. Those +who became Anarchists felt keenly the claws of the State upon them, and +they foresaw that more socialism would aggravate their grievances. They +took for granted that humanity had now tried all forms of government +and that they had all failed, and that the salvation of the race could +only be found in absolute personal freedom. + +The first extreme Russian Nihilists paved the way for the Anarchist +movement in Europe. They, like their first followers in France, had +only one idea, that of destroying at all costs the present order of +things, and thus clearing the ground for a new system to grow up +free from the tyranny of governments, aristocracies, militarism, +landlordism, and capitalism. + +They saw that an immense mass of poor, hard-working, honest people +with but a small chance of happiness for themselves, but imbued with a +strong desire to see the whole of humanity happy, were oppressed by a +small number of selfish people who arrogated to themselves the lion’s +share of the good things of life. They found that this band of selfish +people attained to their immense power by a social system of slow and +gradual growth. Tracing all the troubles to the few egotists whom they +regarded as criminals, they imagined that by destroying them and the +system, the unselfish and humanitarian aspirations of the masses would +blossom forth free and unvitiated. + +The Anarchists were thus the backbone of the religion of humanity, only +their faith was stronger than that of Nordau, for they were willing to +sacrifice all, including life, for the good of the race. + +If these people were, and are, degenerate, then every mistake in +reasoning is a sign of degeneration, and faith in humanity and its +destiny is the beginning of madness. + +When Nordau designates Wagner as an Anarchist, he evidently ignores +the fact that there are two kinds of Anarchists, the violent ones just +described, and the moderate or constitutional ones. The latter call +themselves simply Anarchists. Their numbers are growing rapidly in +France, as well as in England, and in both these countries Nordau would +be surprised at their moderation and common sense. The movement they +represent is a reaction against the socialistic tendencies, and their +programme is not violence and destruction, but the gradual abolition of +all harmful and useless legislation. It is true that so far they have +no precise policy. But such special measures as are advocated—partly +in France, partly in England, and partly in the United States—seem to +be founded on clear and thorough reasoning, and when their leading +principle is compared with the shallow chatter of Socialists and +Communists of every school it appears as wisdom itself. + +What all these people believe, what they long for, and what they hope +for, is exactly what Wagner believed, longed for, and hoped for. He +saw in Philistinism, in official tyranny, in police government, and in +legal trammels standing in the way of trades, industries, and arts, +so many impediments to the realization of the best instincts and the +highest aspirations of humanity. Whatever opinions he held, they can +only be judged by the few exasperated exclamations he gave vent to with +regard to the corruption of modern society. It is not likely that he, +with such immense works on hand, should have given sufficient attention +to social questions to allow him to express himself in learned terms. +But what he said and wrote on the subject shows clearly that the +foundation of his social views was trust in humanity, in the sanctity +of nature, and in the ennobling power of liberty. Can any one with a +true love of art imagine an artist without such a creed? + +What was more natural than that, fêted and praised as he was, he should +have a good opinion of his own talent and consider himself a great man? +If for this he deserved to be suspected of megalomania, what are we to +say about other celebrities, mediocrities, and nonentities, who imagine +themselves demi-gods because they happen to be the sons of their +fathers, to be born in purple, or to have a title attached to their +name? + +Nordau is extremely hard on those who have sung the praises of Wagner, +and insinuates that they have been actuated by base motives when they +have not been absolutely degenerated. According to him, admiration +for Wagner’s works is a sure sign of mental unsoundness. And yet this +same Nordau finds reasons for praising Wagner’s genius which a host of +his panegyrists have overlooked. He says: “Wagner, as a dramatist is +really an historical painter of the highest rank.... This [a fresco +painter] he is in a degree never yet attained by any other dramatic +author in the whole world of literature. Every action embodies itself +for him in a series of most imposing pictures, which, when they are +composed as Wagner has seen them with his inner eye, must overwhelm +and enrapture the beholder. The reception of the guests in the hall of +Wartburg; the arrival and departure of Lohengrin in the boat drawn by +the swan; the gambols of the Rhine maidens in the river; the defiling +of the gods over the rainbow-bridge towards the castle of Asgard; +the bursting of the moonlight into Hunding’s hut; the ride of the +Walküre over the battle-field; Brunhilde in the circle of fire; the +final scene in ‘Götterdämmerung,’ where Brunhilde flings herself on to +her horse and leaps into the midst of the funeral pyre, while Hagan +throws himself into the surging Rhine, and the heavens are aflame with +the glow from the burning palace of the gods; the love-feast of the +knights in the castle of the Grail; the obsequies of Titurel and the +healing of Amfortas—these are pictures to which nothing in art hitherto +approaches.” + +It is strange that Nordau in his love for authorities should quote +Nietzsche—a German author whom, in another part of his book, he makes +out to be a hopeless degenerate and charlatan—in support of his views +of Wagner! But Nietzsche has written a book called _Der Fall Wagner_, +and that suffices. This Nietzsche calls Wagner a comedian, but Nordau +insists upon his being a painter, and that “if he had been a healthy +genius, endowed with intellectual equilibrium, that is what he would +undoubtedly have become. His inner vision would have forced the brush +into his hand, and would have constrained him to use it on canvas by +means of colour.” + +When Nordau says a painter, he evidently restricts the meaning of the +word to its narrowest sense, and makes it difficult to at all class a +man who, like Wagner, evolved and produced pictures of such grandeur +and such beauty as those our alienist so well describes. The fact that +the artist uses actual perspective, real draperies, living people, +actual fire, that he selects his own light, and personally arranges +this mass of objects so as to exactly reproduce the daring conception +of his mind—all this should surely not be cited as so many proofs +of the unhealthiness of his genius. Would he have been a greater, a +sounder genius, had his ability been restricted to sketching and +colouring his conceptions on cardboard or canvas? Should then a +painter’s genius be confined to the production of pictures suitable +only to decorate Philistine houses and official galleries? Because +Nordau’s pedantic tendencies have formed such a Philistine idea about +the art of painting, is it right to deny true genius to a man who has +produced unapproachable pictures on a colossal scale, not by the means +of brushes and pigments, but by materials infinitely more difficult to +handle? + +But these masterpieces of painting do not alone bear witness to +Wagner’s powers. His paintings are not fixed; they are movable. They +represent actually an enchanting succession of pictures. The true +genius _à la_ Nordau gives us the pictures of figures in motion that +never move, and tires us with a Quintus Curtius suspended in mid-air +half way down a chasm, until we wish him at the bottom of it. Such a +moving picture of Wagner’s is not thrust upon us suddenly in the manner +of gallery pictures, but is presented to us as the fit illustration +of a beautiful poem, and often as the climax of a series of other +pictures which explain it, relieve it, and work up our emotions for its +reception. + +To this must be added that the same painter-genius, the same dramatist, +the same poet, has created the wondrous and enchanting music which +accompanies the poem and the pictures. And because he has done all +this, because he has not followed the routine of other German painters, +because he has dared to and succeeded in transporting his audiences +into the highest possible region of imagination, and given them a +glimpse of real creative powers, he is to be classed as a degenerate; +to rank among those of whom humanity is ashamed, and whose degraded +state is to warn us of the coming decay of our race. + +Can any one with a grain of humour read Nordau’s attacks on Wagner +without imagining an irascible toy-terrier barking at the moon? + +Nordau probably feels that Wagner’s anti-semitism, his Anarchism, +and his ability to create transcendentally beautiful pictures are +stigmata which hardly any of his readers would accept as such, and +consequently feels impelled to make much of what it pleases him to +call Wagner’s eroticism. Here, as everywhere in his book, in order +to impress his readers he counts on the mystical effect which the +use of a high-sounding scientific word generally produces upon +unscientific readers. A favourite expression of his, when speaking of +some psychological phenomenon, is that science knows all about it, +and he calls it megalomania, graphomania, echolalia, or some such +name. With people who have only a superficial knowledge of science, +and who stand in awe of its achievements, such nouns stand for a +special definite thing, thoroughly investigated and explained. They +do not know that these scientific names have been invented, not in +order to designate something real and palpable, but simply for the +purpose of bringing order into an arbitrary classification, invented +so that the exchange of ideas may be facilitated on the subject thus +treated. Such scientific terms might even be classed among mystical +symbols, in so far as they often stand for something of which hardly +anything is known, but at the same time serve the same useful end +as algebraical figures. Psychologists are prone to speak of a man’s +consciousness, though scarcely two scientific men would agree as to +what it is. But this does not prevent them from dividing consciousness +up into divisions and sub-divisions, all with their special names, in +order to be able to express their ideas in words. The unscientific +reader should bear in mind that consciousness has never been under +the microscope, or in the crucible, and that the classification of +the scientists has no counterpart in consciousness itself, and that +this remains the impalpable and indivisible _Ego_, with its infinite +number of attributes inseparably commingled. All the different states, +conditions, faculties, perfections, and defects of the _Ego_ are +of course known only by the results they produce in the physical +world, and it is by these results that they have been classified. +It is evident that such methods of classification should leave an +immense margin for those who wish, or feel impelled by their own +idiosyncrasies, to misuse scientific terms designating psychological +phenomena. + +Nordau indulges in this misuse of scientific terms to the fullest +extent, in a way not to be easily discovered by the non-scientific +reader. The word “eroticism” used by him so frequently, with all the +pomposity of a scientific term, is coined from the word “erotic,” a +literary term which again is derived, as we all know, from Eros, the +Greek god of love. It is an adjective which means pertaining to or +expressive of love-passion. Such an adjective necessarily finds an +enormously wide application, considering that love in one sense is the +leading principle in organic creation, and, in a more psychological +sense, the motive power in the human drama. We may say that we +ourselves, the outcome of love, regulate our whole life, and sometimes +base our hopes of a future state on love. Consequently there is hardly +anything in our lives that is not covered by the adjective “erotic.” + +The alienists having adopted the word “eroticism” in order to designate +a state of mind which certain actions reveal to them, and which state +of mind, when its existence is corroborated by other facts, may be +considered as a disease, it is evident that, while they may apply the +word “eroticism” to almost anything in the organic world and in human +society, it is better for their purpose to apply it only to a certain +form of a diseased mind. While a strictly logical and careful alienist +might deem it irrational and confusing to use the term “eroticism,” or +even the adjective “erotic,” outside a clearly defined case of mental +disease, it cannot be considered absolutely wrong to apply such terms +whenever the love-passion is in question, even a love-passion of a most +legitimate kind. + +We shall now show how Nordau manages to slip over the border +within which scientific terms should be used, and applies them +indiscriminately to everything; and how he, in this manner, tries to +establish that Wagner suffers from erotic madness, because he looks +upon love as one of the chief motors in the human drama and the tree of +knowledge for good or evil. + +Nordau, in a flippant criticism, which he endeavours to render funny, +of the behaviour of Wagner’s characters on the stage, forgets his +self-criticism to such an extent as to liken them to mad tom-cats—a +simile which probably no sane man would accept as true. Having once +conceived the idea of mad tom-cats, it at once becomes an obsession +in his mind, and suggests presentations of real cases of erotic fury. +He consequently, according to his habit, takes for granted that the +actors on the stage must necessarily represent the exact state of mind +of the author, and cries out that this state of the author’s mind +(which he has persuaded himself is that of a mad tom-cat) is well known +to science, and is called sadism. Then, with a regret at having to +touch upon subjects in order to make his readers understand Wagner’s +real mental condition, he gives a disgusting example of a maniac whose +erotic madness has brought him below the level of the brute. + +This is a fair sample of Nordau’s logic. For the sake of clearness, +we recapitulate the logical _tour de force_ he has been compelled +to exercise in order to arrive at such an absurdity: Wagner, like +all poets and dramatists before him, creates a love scene. Love is +an erotic emotion. Eroticism is a disease of the mind. Tom-cats are +erotically influenced. The characters on the stage remind Nordau of +tom-cats. The obsession of a “tom-cat in convulsions over a root of +valerian” suggests a raving madman. Consequently Wagner is mad. + +Such is the use a scientist is tempted to make of his science when he +throws self-criticism overboard. + +When Nordau says of Wagner that he has been all his life an erotic, he +is fair enough to add in parentheses, “in a psychiatric sense.” But +this is not enough. The word “psychiatric” is a strictly scientific +word, not to be found in any ordinary English dictionary; and the +ordinary reader might easily conclude that, instead of removing +Wagner’s eroticism into the deep recesses of his soul, it might have +been used by the author, as so many scientific words have been used, in +order to aggravate his charge. + +In order to justify his opinion with regard to Wagner’s erotic madness, +he says: “The most ordinary incitements, even those farthest removed +from the province of sexual instincts, never fail to awaken in his +consciousness voluptuous images of an erotic character.” Why “sexual +instincts”? Why not love-instincts, an expression which had so much +better fitted in with the scenes Wagner represents? But, as it suits +Nordau’s purpose to keep his reader’s mind upon love in its lowest, +most animal form, we shall let it pass. We must however express our +astonishment at the example he gives in order to show how incitements, +“far removed from the province of sexual instincts,” caused Wagner’s +mind to revert to voluptuous images. The “farthest removed incitements” +which Nordau quotes is the description by Wagner of a ballet—a _pas de +trois_—evidently intended to represent the blending of the beautiful +with love, to give Wagner’s own words, “love and life, the joy and +wooing of art.” What on earth, then, would more arouse such eroticism +that might be found in a man than a ballet representing love and +life? And this especially when we consider the modern freedom with +regard to the costume of ballet girls. In order to show what Nordau +considers to be the outcome of erotic madness in Wagner’s choregraphic +representation of love, life, and art, we give _in extenso_ the passage +from _Art-Work of the Future_, to which he refers: + +“In the contemplation of this ravishing dance of the most genuine +and noblest muses of the artistic man, we now see the three arm in +arm lovingly entwined up to their necks, then this, then that one, +detaching herself from the entwinement, as if to display to the others +her beautiful form in complete separation, touching the hands of the +others only with the extreme tips of her fingers; now the one, entwined +by a backward glance at the twin forms of her closely entwined sisters, +bending towards them; then two, carried away by the allurements of the +one, greeting her in homage; finally all, in close embrace, breast to +breast, limb to limb, in an ardent kiss of love, coalescing in one +blissfully living shape. This is the love and life, the joy and wooing +of art,” etc. + +When Nordau wishes to traduce the love scenes in Wagner’s operas into +arguments of the musician’s erotic madness, he forgets many things. He +forgets what he himself has given as a test of a sound mind, namely, +the ability to look after one’s own business. Even if Wagner had +produced scenes on his stage of an utterly corrupt character in order +to gain money and popularity, he having succeeded completely in such +objects could not possibly be called mad by a critic who has made +material success in life a test for sound-mindedness, and who declares +the belief in personal responsibility reaching beyond the grave to +be a sign of madness. But he also forgets, what is more important, +that there is no line of demarcation drawn to indicate how far the +representation of human passions may be carried on the stage. + +Even Nordau does not seem to have discovered an authority on this +subject. He himself will not serve as an authority, because he has +shown himself too apt to fall into the error of newspaper critics, +that of judging a work or a piece, not according to its merits, but +according to the author who has produced it. He would praise in Goethe +what he would condemn in Wagner. If we were to indiscriminately ask +people how far we may go in representing human passion on the stage, +we should get a mass of replies all differing according to the bias of +the respondents. The Ultramontane abbé, the zealous Methodist, would +differ enormously from the Bohemian artist; the prudish old maid would +differ from the poet. Nay, even two artists, both painters of the nude, +or two ballet girls appearing in the same costume, might hold almost +opposite opinions on this subject. How then shall we judge? By leaving +out of court all the extremists—those who object to theatres, ballets, +and nature in art—as well as those who would clamour for indecent +and obscene representations, we might considerably narrow the ground +for inquiry, and elicit certain rules likely to meet the suffrage of +the majority within these limits. It might be argued that emotions, +playing by far the most important _rôle_ in the human drama, and lying +as they do at the root of all our actions, educational agencies, +and amusements, ought to be appealed to by the arts. Also that art, +in affording us opportunities of giving expression to our emotions, +elevates and ennobles our lives: consequently, that the passive, +objective contemplation of human emotions which the stage affords us +helps us to study our own emotions and to bring them into harmony with +our noblest aspirations, our future happiness, our judgment, and our +will. In order to accomplish their mission, such representations should +be as true to life as possible, whether they be beautiful or not. On +this plea, it would be legitimate to represent on the stage erotic +emotions in the full strength in which we meet with them in reality +among sound-minded people. A good deal of exaggeration may be permitted +to the actor as he is under the difficulty of having to convey by +actions, gestures, or facial expression a distinct representation of +emotions which may rage in the consciousness of a human being without +betraying themselves in physical signs. + +From this it must be concluded that the purity of the stage depends +more on what is acted than how it is acted. The author who does not +wish to desecrate the drama is therefore bound to represent emotions +which are the outcome of natural life, and acted upon by incidents such +as we see around us and to avoid the representation of, even if he +cannot avoid the reference to, emotions which spring from a diseased +mind or a morbid moral state. + +Love, being an emotion to which every sound-minded being may be +subject, there would be no objection to represent it in the most +intense manner on the stage so long as we understand under the name +of love that strong degree of affection which sometimes people of the +opposite sex may conceive for each other apart from sexual emotions. +What makes Nordau’s reasoning plausible is that he does not admit that +this kind of love exists. He distinguishes only two degrees, or two +categories, of love, comradeship or friendship on the one hand, and +the animal instinct on the other. But no one who has gone through life +with open eyes can possibly deny the reality of what we here, for want +of a better expression, would call pure love. Everywhere we meet with +manifestations of it. Even young children, who might have no idea of +sexual emotion, often love each other with a genuine passion which +sometimes lasts through life. Adults may be so absorbed in love for +each other as to prefer death to separation, and yet never experience +any sexual emotion in each other’s company. Men and women lovers who +have been separated have wasted away from sheer love of each other, +and yet been remarkably chaste in character. In the English-speaking +countries, where the relations between the sexes are free and natural, +we find any number of proofs of the reality of pure love. Those cases +alone which have ended tragically, and therefore come before the +public, more than suffice to prove it. Even in countries like France, +for example, where the sexual instincts are apt to become morbid from +the one-sided education of the young, it is not difficult to find +examples of pure love. It is even to be found where least expected, as, +for instance, between a licentious man and a fallen woman. It is true +that when pure love runs its usual course it gets, so to say, inflamed +by animal passion, but this is generally the case only as a result of +the demonstrations by which pure love tries to manifest itself. It may +also be true that there exists a mysterious, that is to say a so far +unexplained, connection between the purest love and sexual instinct +even in loving couples to whom sexuality may be an abomination. But +all this does not disprove that, speaking from a practical and ethical +point of view, there is such an emotion as pure love, and that this +emotion is a powerful motor in the human drama. + +If it then be a fact that this yearning to love and to be loved with +a pure love exists, and ought to exist, in rational human beings, +and that in running its natural course it will manifest itself +in demonstrations extremely likely to rouse animal passions, the +question arises how far a love scene on the stage may display those +demonstrations which, while they are the only possible means of +expressing pure love, at the same time suggest sexual emotions. + +Here then is the point where the difference will arise, and where we +may well be careful whose decision we accept. Can we do better than +Wagner did—leave the audience to decide? + +Wagner’s German audiences, described by Nordau as including wives and +daughters, have, to his great bewilderment, given the verdict in favour +of Wagner’s most passionate scenes. “How unperverted,” Nordau cries +out, “must wives and maidens be, when they are in a state of mind to +witness these pieces without blushing crimson, and sinking to the earth +for shame!” No. They have not blushed in following calmly and serenely +the objective representations of passions which by nature have been +implanted in every breast. The very vehemence, the very naturalness of +the scenes inspire that awe and reverence which great natural forces +always do, and the young girl in the audience does not for a moment +revert to any impure representations or animal promptings which might +have come within her experience, because she is æsthetically and not +sexually excited. But if Nordau could watch her when she reads the +above quoted passage in his book, he would see her blush deeply, not at +the memory of Wagner’s scenes, but at the feeling of having the first +seed of degeneration sown in her heart. + +Among the phrases used by Nordau in order to inculcate his readers with +the idea that Wagner, instead of being the very essence of an artist, +one of the greatest practically creative geniuses of the world, is a +mere erotic maniac, is this one—“all his ideas revolve about woman.” +While this phrase may lead the unwary reader astray, it throws a vivid +light on the extent to which Nordau’s opinion with regard to the +relation of the sexes has been influenced by his continental bias. This +ought to be made clear to his readers. Such expressions, if of any use +at all in Nordau’s reasoning, pre-suppose that it is quite an unusual +thing for the ideas of poets, dramatists, and writers of fiction to +revolve about woman. For our alienist does not refer to Wagner’s +private life. He is speaking only of Wagner the author. The actual +fact, of course, is that love and women have from times immemorial been +the subject of legends, fairy tales, troubadour songs, poems, romances, +novels, and dramas. Thus, according to the gospel of our alienist, all +the past and present poetical authors of the world must have been, and +are, “subject to erotic madness,” like Wagner. + +There are, of course, men who, like Faust, devote their lives to +intellectual pursuits and expend all their energy in forcing nature to +yield up her secrets. But such men are not only exceptions—they may be +looked upon as degenerates. This is what Faust at last discovered. He +recognised that life was essentially emotional, and that by having +crushed out his emotional nature he had failed to live his life. +Whether Goethe intended to impart the lesson his _Faust_ teaches us may +be doubtful, but we can thus read it: we may suppress our emotional +nature for a long time, but it will one day claim its rights, and, +in its explosive escape from unnatural bondage, avenge itself on the +suppressor, and hurl him to perdition. The emotions, Faust regrets, are +all those inspired by women. + +But the great majority of men do not suppress the emotions inspired by +women, but, on the contrary, allow their whole lives to be influenced +by them. To find confirmation of this fact in countries like France +and Germany might not be so easy as in the English-speaking countries. +Wherever the sexes are separated in youth, and where conventional +marriages are the rule, the erotic impulses become over-stimulated and +lead to the excitement of animal passion. The love of the beautiful, +all the æsthetic aspirations, the yearning for the society of women, +the love of excitement, the chivalrous leanings, and the craving for +pure love—all these are thrown as so much fuel into the furnace of +sexual love. It is then that the struggle arises between the terrible +demoniac love and pure love—a struggle so frequently depicted in +Wagner’s operas and which determines the lives of so many men on the +continent. + +Part of the struggle of the continental man is to avoid the influence +of women altogether, or else to look upon them after the manner of the +Mahommedans. In countries therefore where pure love is left but little +or no scope, the influence of women is not very marked, and certainly +not acknowledged, because for a man to acknowledge it would be to avow +himself an “erotic madman.” + +To understand the immense influence which a woman exercises over man’s +destiny and how closely men’s minds “revolve about women,” we must +study the English-speaking countries where pure love has, if not free +scope, freer scope than anywhere else, and where few healthy-minded men +are ashamed to avow the value they place upon woman, her love, and her +influence. + +Despite the fact that Englishmen do not display towards women of +all classes that engaging politeness which favourably distinguishes +Frenchmen, a stranger who visits England cannot fail soon to perceive +in what high estimation woman is held. Her name is seldom taken in +vain. There is no trace of that gross satire upon women which so +often disfigures continental prints; she may be represented as sharp, +worldly, extravagant, but rarely as immoral, unfaithful, or ugly. Some +of the lower-class papers are strongly influenced by French views, but +they never indulge in adaptations without some modification, and such +papers as have been started in order to emulate the fast journals of +Paris have always been extremely short-lived. + +The same respect for women is manifest in fiction as well as on the +stage. Here again in consequence of French influence we meet with +women who have sinned, and women with a past, but they never play such +degraded parts as they often do in French novels and plays. Ladies +are allowed an extensive liberty, and they are rarely insulted; and +obtain, even under trying circumstances, a respectful treatment at the +hands of the lowest class of labourers. We have unfortunately amongst +us ruffians who beat their wives, but in ninety-nine cases out of a +hundred these are drunken and debauched human failures. The average +working man treats his wife and his daughter with as much consideration +as a nobleman could his, and their home is kept morally pure and as +comfortable for the women as his resources allow. He is not ashamed to +carry parcels, burdens, the children, or to perambulate the baby in +public places in order to spare his wife the trouble. + +The men most reluctantly suspect a woman of immorality, and generally +not until there seems a strong case against her. Indecent words and +allusions are entirely excluded in the presence of ladies, and if a +woman in her innocence inadvertently makes a risky remark, it passes +unheeded and without producing a smile. + +The average Englishman’s life brings him into constant contact with +women, and he is perfectly aware that he owes to them much that is +bright and happy in his existence. Already as a child he is the trusted +protector of his sisters, and often the cavalier of their friends. +Early in life he loves some young woman, and his long courtship is to +him a happy time. When he works hard, when he risks his life on the sea +or in dangerous climes, it is generally with a view to marrying the +girl he loves. When he is married, he wishes to succeed that he may +gain his wife’s approval, beautify her home, and make her life happy; +while at the same time he never remains insensible to the admiration +of other women. While his wife is yet young, his daughters grow up and +become important features in his life and his happiness. + +It may therefore be said of the men of the English-speaking countries +that their “ideas revolve about women,” and it will be difficult to +persuade us Englishmen that respect, admiration, and love for women +are the signs of a degenerate mind. Coleridge well expresses the +English feeling—a feeling which, under circumstances similar to those +prevailing in England, would be universal: + + “All thoughts, all passions, all delights, + Whatever stirs this mortal frame, + All are but ministers of Love, + And feed his sacred flame.” + +Wagner’s music, which may be said to have been the delight of millions +of people, is not approved of by Nordau. He condemns it on the usual +ground that it is novel, and that it differs from the standards +accepted before Wagner. According to him, it is the music of an unsound +mind, because it contains no distinct ideas in the shape of melodies. +He objects to the _Leit-motiv_ and to the unending melody, but it is +difficult to harmonize what he says against the one with what he says +against the other. Speaking of the _Leit-motiv_, he says: “To express +ideas is not the function of music. Language provides for that as +completely as could be desired. When the word is accompanied by song +or orchestra, it is not to make it more definite, but to reinforce it +by the intervention of emotion. Music is a kind of sounding-board in +which the word has to awake something like an echo from the infinite.” +Later on he says about melody: “It is a regular grouping of notes in a +highly expressive series of tones. Melody in music corresponds to what +in language is a logically constructed sentence distinctly presenting +an idea, and having a clearly marked beginning and ending.” + +Music being an art which exclusively appeals to emotion, it is not +surprising that any attempt to measure its value by a reasoning process +should result in utter failure. But this is no excuse for an author to +contradict himself so flatly as Nordau does in the above passages. To +say on one page that “_to express ideas is not the function of music_,” +and on another page to say that melody is indispensable to music, +because it “corresponds to a logically constructed sentence _distinctly +presenting an idea_.” Again he says: “Melody may be said to be an +effort to say something definite,” and how can this harmonize with +the other mission of music: “to awake something like an echo from the +infinite.” The latter expression is not only a true definition of the +mission of music, but also an exact description of the aim of Wagner’s +music. + +Nordau feels that his scientific reasoning about music will affect no +one who has heard the music of Wagner, and that those who admire it +will be slow to believe that an unsound mind could have accomplished +such complicated, intricate, and complete work. To prepare his reader’s +mind for his rash conclusion, he once more goes to the lunatic asylum +for his arguments, in order to show that a man may be a lunatic and yet +be a good musician. But here again he is strangely blind to the fact +that such arguments tell directly against his theory. He cites cases of +lunatics who “improvised on the piano,” who “sang very beautiful airs +and at the same time improvised two different themes on the piano... +who composed very beautiful, new, and melodious tunes.” + +The remarkable thing about the music of his maniacs is that it is tuny +and melodious, and consequently the only rational music, according to +Nordau, while Wagner’s music is condemned by him, and Wagner himself is +held up as a lunatic because his music is not like that of acknowledged +lunatics! It stands to reason that a weak mind could follow and repeat +a style of music which it has heard for years, but that it requires a +strong and sound mind to break a new road in the domain of music with +the full approval of millions of musical people. + +Nordau also feels the necessity of backing up his opinion by +authorities. He sees a conclusive proof of Wagner’s inferiority in +the criticism of professional musicians and composers. He might as +well form his opinion of an actress on the criticism of her by her +most dangerous rival. It seems that Hiller and Schumann would not +acknowledge Wagner’s musical endowment, but attributed his success to +the _libretti_ written by himself. Regarding this Nordau exclaims: +“The same old story: musicians regard him as a poet, and poets as a +musician.” This means that our alienist is, or pretends to be, so +utterly innocent of humour and satire as to accept this very common way +of minimizing the talent of a rival as a trustworthy judgment. It is +the commonest thing in the world for a man to deny his rival’s talent +in his own specialty, and then, in order to strengthen the effect of +his opinion and to give it the colour of impartiality, to acknowledge +in him talents outside that specialty. Practical men, when they hear +one musician run down another musician, generally conclude that the +latter has a dangerous talent. Voltaire, in speaking of a writer none +of whose works were in existence, said that he must have been a man of +genius judging from the savage attacks made upon him by another writer. + +Hiller and Schumann are the only authorities whom Nordau can point to +in support of his views, and he himself raises some doubts whether +their dislike of Wagner’s music was not due to the difficulty of +immediately appreciating a tendency so novel as Wagner’s. Our alienist +is only able to add that Rubinstein can only make some important +reservations, and that it was some time before Hanslick struck his +colours. In view, then, of the enormous literature that has grown +up around Wagner and Wagnerism, Nordau’s habit of referring to +authorities in this instance simply has the effect of showing that he +stands unsupported in his opinion by all musical authorities. It is +irresistibly comic to notice how Nordau regrets that the brochure—_Der +Fall Wagner_—in which Nietzsche attacks Wagner, is quite as “insanely +delirious” as another brochure written by the same writer twelve years +before in deification of Wagner. Had it not been for this awkward +circumstance, Nordau, it seems, would have been only too glad to exalt +Nietzsche—the man whom in another part of his work he strenuously +endeavours to prove an imbecile—to the rank of an authority. His +amazing lack of logic prevents him from seeing that a certificate of +lunacy issued by a lunatic is really a certificate of sanity, in virtue +of the logical axiom that two negatives are equal to one affirmative. + +Such faults and defects as may be found in Wagner’s prose writings have +little importance in relation—and are almost irrelevant—to the question +of his supposed degeneracy. He had to deal with subjects which, +though intensely real to our emotional nature, can only be treated +inadequately in words. Whatever we may think of Wagner’s style, there +can be little doubt that he has succeeded in making himself understood +by a great number of people whose emotional nature sympathizes with +that of Wagner, and whom even Nordau would not undertake to prove to +be mentally deranged or morally degenerate. Wagner’s writings have the +defect, very general among German writers, and conspicuous in Nordau, +of being verbose. They all make us crave for “Der langen Rede, kurzen +Sinn.” + +The fundamental idea in Wagner’s great work—_The Art-Work of the +Future_—is that the arts should co-operate, and that each individual +art should attain to its perfection in conjunction with other arts. +Nordau in no way disproves the soundness of this view by saying that +“Goethe’s lyric poetry and the _Divina Commedia_” need no landscape +painting, that “Michael Angelo’s ‘Moses’ would hardly produce a deeper +impression surrounded by dancers and singers,” and that “the ‘Pastoral +Symphony’ does not require a complement of words in order to exercise +its full charm.” + +With that logic peculiar to Nordau, he quotes a passage from +Schopenhauer in which this thinker mildly deprecates such co-ordination +of the arts as was to be found in the operas of his time, and our +alienist wishes us to accept this as a proof of insanity in Wagner’s +admiration for the opera. He forgets the important fact that +Wagner’s greatness is proved by the way in which he has succeeded in +obliterating at least the worst defects of the opera as it existed +before him, and that he has rendered it a complete and harmonious +expression of combined and elevated arts. The quoted passage from +Schopenhauer could be no condemnation of Wagner’s operas as it was +written before they saw the light. In the operas, as they used to be, +there was much that tended to disturb the imagination and even to +arouse laughter. The most exasperating incongruities were indulged +in. An exciting hunting chorus would be played and sung while two +rows of lady supers would walk in from each side of the wings in +Indian file, each bearing as a hunting implement a yard-long piece +of wood surmounted by a piece of tin. The impossible dresses, the +demure demeanour, the solemn faces, the absurd lances—carried like +candles in a nuns’ procession—all this clashed so terribly with the +music and the theme as to suggest a burlesque. A band of conspirators +afraid of being detected, yet shouting at the top of their voices some +compromising chorus; a man with a deadly wound rising to his feet and +singing a lively and complicated aria; a messenger in the hottest haste +delivering a message in a slow and long-drawn recitative; an intensely +modern consumptive lady dying amid ancient surroundings, trilling in +her last gasps musical complexities, during a quarter of an hour, +with a marvellously strong and healthy voice—such, and many other +absurdities, disfigured the opera before Wagner and Gounod, and well +deserved the condemnation of Schopenhauer. + +Wagner’s assertion that the natural evolution of each art leads to +the surrender of its independence and to its fusion with other arts +is looked upon by Nordau as delirious. To prove this he falls back on +biology, and points out that nature develops from the simple to the +complex, that originally similar parts develop into separate organs +of different structure and independent functions. Why on earth should +there necessarily be an analogy between the growth of plants and +animals, and between the development of the arts? Any other writer who +had been unfortunate enough to indulge in such profound mysticism would +certainly have been condemned by Nordau to the lunatic asylum. Even +if we admit the analogy as permissible, he gains very little by it: +for when he speaks of nature as always proceeding from the simple to +the complex he describes exactly the development of the arts into the +opera—music, poetry, and dancing representing each the simple, and the +opera representing the complex. What would Nordau think of a mad doctor +who based his verdict of insanity on such reasoning? + +The attentive student of Nordau’s impeachment of Wagner cannot fail +to see that, despite all his efforts to brand him as a degenerate, he +has only succeeded in throwing the grand power of that genius into +bolder relief. Instead of inducing us to look upon Wagner as a sign +of degeneration, he has impressed us with the fact that Wagner’s work +constitutes an awakening from the slumber in which Philistinism and +conventionalism have so long enwrapped humanity, and opened a new vista +for the ennobling mission of the arts. + +While we must reject Nordau’s clinging to that pedantry and +conventionalism which limit the mission of the arts to the production +of isolated pictures for public galleries and the salons of +modern Mæcenases, statues for public places, and compositions of +_Kammer-musik_ for drawing-rooms, we at the same time do not believe +that the opera, even as regenerated by the genius of a Wagner, is +the highest expression of the arts. There will come a day when the +illusions of the stage will be realities, when we shall dispense with +the dusty sceneries, the garish footlights, the painted faces, the +prudish trappings, which go to make up the mirage which heralds an +ideal future. The arts, instead of being relegated to the nursery in +order to make room for science, as Nordau prophesies, will become +its aim. When science has given us health, strength, and beauty, an +extended power over nature’s forces, when it has solved the terrible +social problem on the basis of liberty and progress, then will science +be the handmaiden of the arts. Then will the answer be granted to the +poet’s prayer: + + “Oh! for a muse of fire that shall ascend + The highest heaven of invention; + A kingdom for a stage; princes to act; + And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!” + +The arts, after having demonstrated in the opera their solidarity and +their independence, will leave that artificial shelter and take up +their abode in our homes and in our civic buildings, in our streets, +and in our public places, in our arenas and in our temples. + +A new renaissance lies ahead of us, and we are all struggling to reach +it. The man who thinks and writes, the artist who paints or composes, +the peasant at the plough, the miner in the bowels of the earth, all +are contributing to further the advent of a new era when the life, +the work, the pleasure, and the worship of a regenerate race shall be +exalted by the arts, and present a realization of what Wagner dreamed +while he created. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +_THE RELIGION OF SELF_ + + +The term egomania is a welcome present from the scientists, which +enriches our language with a verbal representation of a psychological +condition which is certainly characteristic of our time. We trust that +Nordau’s diagnosis of the disease will be carefully studied by its +victims, especially by those who are in the stage where it appears as +egoism, self-sufficiency, indifference to others, to society, to the +State, and as that fashionable and superior pessimism which despairs +of self as an excuse for despairing of others. For, though Nordau +goes very minutely into the psychological aspect of egomania without +indicating its origin or the remedies against it, he evidently does +not reject the theory, which seems constantly to be confirmed by +actualities, that mental diseases may be fostered and aggravated both +by those who suffer from them, as well as by surrounding circumstances. + +Putting his opinion as a psychologist together with that of others, +we seem authorized to hope that when our egotistical pessimists have +learned that the aristocratic characteristic on which they pride +themselves is the beginning of a mental disease, they will fly to such +remedies as may be found in the study of useful science and healthy +work. + +Such authors as Théophile Gautier, Baudelaire, Rollinat, and others +attract especially Nordau’s attention; but he deals with them in order +to show that they individually had degenerated into egomaniacs, and +he does not once try to realize the relation between their so-called +degeneracy and the general tendencies of our time. Had he done so, he +might have felt inclined to be less hard on these exponents of _fin de +siècle_ corruption. Speaking of the hints which this school of poets +and writers sometimes throws out that they are not quite serious, +Nordau comes very near to discovering their significance when he says +about Baudelaire that perhaps “he sought to make himself believe that, +with his Satanism, he was laughing at the Philistines.” But Nordau does +not follow up the cue he has thus accidentally dropped upon, but adds a +sentence revealing the one-sidedness of his inquiry, when he says: “but +such a tardy palliation does not deceive the psychologist, and it is of +no importance for his judgment.” + +That may be so. But it is of the utmost importance to humanity. That +the yielding to the promptings of “unconsciousness,” to the dictates of +instincts bad or good, was on the part of the so-called Parnassians +an experimental plunge in the dark—a challenge to those who pretended +to know better to show them that they were wrong—cannot be denied by +any one who has read their writings with some knowledge of the French +character. + +These men took up literature at a time when the world began to perceive +that science could not satisfy its emotional aspirations, that it could +not explain the mysteries of the Universe, or bring about that balance +between our emotional and intellectual natures on which a healthy +life depends. But this was not the only disillusion which humanity +experienced at that time. All the hopes which the altruistic feeling +had prompted us to base on democratic governments and scientific +political economy had vanished. When the Utopias of the economists +turned out to be a _fata morgana_, instead of the solid ladder leading +up to the material heaven promised by the religion of humanity of the +scientists, a Babylonian confusion arose among the people who had first +been told to worship at the shrine of religion, then at the shrine +of science, and now stood without any shrine whatsoever. In France, +more than in any other country, we meet with people whose minds are +too subtle and whose emotions are too genuine to permit them to dwell +contented in that Philistinism which leans on the one side towards +the scientific creed or absence of creed, in order to appear modern, +and, on the other side, on religion, in order to be safe, but whose +real shrine is the money-safe. These French people, mostly authors and +artists, had studied both the religious and the scientific theories, +and had found the causes of their miscarriage. + +The Church had said: “Nature is vile, man is naturally bad, instincts +are prompted by the devil, and knowledge is one of the snares of hell.” +But the Roman Church had not only failed in its mission to keep up the +faith and render humanity virtuous and happy, but was responsible for +great social troubles, superstitions, and obstacles to progress. It +had good intentions, but the way in which it tried to carry them out +rendered them valueless. It required power first, much power, complete +power over everything, and the acquisition of power did more harm than +the Church could do good when ever so powerful. The Protestant Churches +in France were gloomy, prudish, anti-artistic, and appealed with +difficulty to any French character. Their dogmas seemed incompatible +with scientific truth, and their mission appeared to be rather to +persuade their members that they were perfect than to render them +perfect. Besides, a great many minds throughout the world, accredited +with scientific accomplishments, had mercilessly opposed dogmatic +religion. + +Science, in its turn, when asked, Where is truth? Where is the ideal? +could only point to a pile of facts laboriously built up like a brick +wall, and had to confess that what it wished to give instead of +religion was mere speculations. The ultimate conclusion it pointed +to was selfishness, personal irresponsibility, and a mere animal +existence. It failed entirely to satisfy the great moving power in +the scheme of humanity—emotions—and could not therefore satisfy human +yearnings and aspirations. + +The postulates of religion—the wickedness of nature and of man—were +rejected as groundless, and the guidance of intellect and science was +spurned because they were powerless to influence the emotions. + +Finding themselves in the plight of a ship driving about in the ocean +without compass or rudder, the Parnassians, the Decadents, and many +others thought it was time to try a desperate course. Perhaps, after +all, they thought, nature is good, perhaps human instincts may be +trusted; let us be natural and follow our instincts. There was much to +encourage the new departure. It had often been found that the purest +joys were the most lasting, that the good was the most beautiful, that +lives and actions prompted by the altruistic feelings best satisfied +selfish yearnings, that vice was disappointing, unhealthy, degrading, +and joy-killing; that virtue improved life, increased the capacity for +enjoyment, and beautified mind and body. These observations encouraged +the belief in the religion of self. The _Ego_ was not bad; but it +required freedom to develop itself. + +Like all founders of systems and philosophies, the Parnassians and +Decadents sought for confirmation of their theories in the possibility +of a Utopia. In imagining a state of things under which the self should +have unlimited latitude for self-realization, where man could satisfy +his highest aspirations and enjoy the greatest possible happiness under +the guidance of his altruistic promptings, where his instincts should +be so sharpened and developed as to unfailingly select the greatest and +the most lasting, and therefore the noblest, pleasures—in imagining +such a state of things these experimentalists perceived that society, +such as it was around them, offered thousands of obstacles to every +attempt at practical realization of their theories. They thus came to +look upon themselves as at war with society, its old standards, its +prejudices, its religions, and its morals. + +Their writings were at once weapons, challenges, rallying-cries. They +were intended to deride, to shock, and to draw attention to the new +philosophy. The distinction between good and bad was obliterated. The +artist and the poet should henceforth express their true feelings and +nought else. Instinct should take the place of principles. The devil +might be worshipped as well as God. Art should have no other object +than art. Nature might be abhorred as well as loved. And so on. + +From this moral chaos the self was to rise in all its glory. For the +present it was distorted by surrounding circumstances. The ugliness and +morbidness of the subjects they wrote about and the distortion of their +own feelings were the proofs of the decayed state upon which humanity +had entered. Characters such as Huysman’s Duc des Esseintes were +intended to illustrate what the present state of society was, and what +its present tenets would lead to. He is intended to represent the final +result of our civilization, and to show that disgust of our race may be +so great as to inspire a man with the belief that by fostering evil and +creating criminals he does a good action in so far as he accelerates +the destruction of society. + +The Parnassians and the Decadents have no proclaimed creed or any +programme, and their own opinion of their philosophy is of the haziest +kind. We are therefore far from asserting that we have here interpreted +them as they would interpret themselves. Whatever may be said of their +style and their writings, they have, at least, the merit of being +frank and unsophisticated, and we think it must be recognised that, +whether they know it or not, they hold themselves up as the “frightful +examples” of the chaotic state into which creeds, principles, morals, +are falling at the end of this century. To us the moral, both of their +existence and of their writing, is that the world, and especially +France, stands in sore need of better churches, of a better system of +philosophy, and better principles of government. These authors have +rendered a great service in tearing away the hypocritical mask which +society is so anxious to maintain, and thus demonstrating the great +need of regenerating agencies. + +Of late, England has been considerably influenced by France, and the +æsthetic revolt just referred to naturally affected the English, but +merely as a faint echo. + +When Nordau, who correctly points out the connection between the +Decadents in France and the extreme æsthetes in England, insinuates +that the whole of English society is affected by it, he labours under a +wrong impression. We have had here—and we speak purposely in the past +tense—a knot of people who have believed, as Nordau states, that a work +of art is its own aim, that it may be immoral. But, as he himself has +stated, the æsthetic awakening in England has forced art almost in the +opposite direction. We have had poets who have imitated Baudelaire and +other writers of the same class, but these imitators have, by imitating +many others, displayed a weakness which debars them from any great +influence. There was a time with us when a thoroughly immoral decadence +had a spell of influence and created a sickly literature. But the +influence of this sham æstheticism is fast vanishing, since its essence +has been mercilessly exposed. + +While the influence of the Parnassians and Decadents in France was only +small, in England the circumstances which produced them have been in +existence among us and have produced effects to some extent similar. +The struggle between science and religion, the distrust of both, the +failure of social panaceas, and the irresistible pushing of the working +class against old social barriers have produced in a great number of +educated men a peculiar state of mind which we wish that Nordau had +noticed. Whether he would have placed those thus affected among his +degenerates as egomaniacs it is impossible for us to decide, but there +can be little doubt that egoism is the chief characteristic of a new +religion or a new mental disease, which has made large inroads among +educated men. It becomes manifest in their pessimism and in their +indifferentism. They believe that everything is bad, that the classes +are bad, that the masses are bad, that the country is in a bad state, +and that everything will finish badly. At the same time they do not +care. They will do nothing to avert the coming evils. They hope that +none will think them foolish enough to make themselves martyrs. They +wish it to be clearly understood that they care only for themselves +and that they take no heed of what happens to others. They loathe +the working class, and affect a desire to crush them out of existence +at one blow. They belong to the few Englishmen who suspect women of +vile things, except of course their mothers, sisters, _fiancées_, and +wives. They think life hardly worth living, and certainly not worth any +special exertions, but their main preoccupation is the state of their +health. They study nothing save their own inclinations and cravings +and certain excrescences of the most modern literature. Their capacity +for hatred is stupendous in its scope but meek in its expression. They +claim to enjoy all the benefits of social life without considering +themselves obliged to perform any of its duties. They manage to be +spendthrifts without being generous, and to be mean without being +economical. + +But we are strongly averse to classing these social phenomena among +the hopeless egomaniacs. They exaggerate their egotism to such an +extent as to suggest that they are rather following a foolish fashion +than undergoing moral decay, and that the existence of pinchbeck +patriots, political charlatans, sham enthusiasts, and professional +philanthropists has frightened them from showing their best side and +using their best abilities, and causes them to flout their pessimism +and selfishness in every one’s face lest they should be taken for one +of these. + +In spite of their infatuated posing as degenerate egomaniacs, we +believe that many of them may be counted upon as part of those +elements from which the future regeneration may spring, when the cloud +of scepticism has cleared away, and a goal worthy to strive for is +discernible. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +_AN ETHICAL INQUISITION_ + + +A very large part of the sum-total of the work accomplished by +Nordau in _Degeneration_ consists in describing scientifically the +psychological phenomena which underlie the idiosyncrasies of certain +authors and artists: in giving scientific names to their weaknesses, +and in setting forth the relations in which such weaknesses stand to +madness. These idiosyncrasies, these weaknesses, and their relations to +madness were well known to observant people long before Nordau’s book +was written, and to these his work is simply the technical explanation +of familiar phenomena. In another chapter we shall dwell at greater +length on the difference of views which Nordau tends to bring about. +Here we wish to point out that, in spite of the mass of scientific +phraseology employed by Nordau, and in spite of the difference of +views he endeavours to bring about, in what seems to be his main +object, he is entirely in accord with millions of sound-minded people +in this country. We English deplore, as deeply as any one can, the +existence of artists and works of so-called art which appeal rather +to the morbid than to the healthy mind; of poetry, novels, and dramas +calculated to flatter the corrupt, instead of stimulating in all a +desire for elevation. We especially deplore the diabolical work done by +pornographic artists and authors. + +Owing to this accord in aims with Nordau, his work has been read, and +is being read, by thousands in this country, in the hope that his +vaunted science and his strong mind would show us the right remedies. +But in this respect we have been sorely disappointed; for instead +of meeting with that complete grasp of the subject to which English +scientists have accustomed us, we meet in his proposal of remedies with +that dazed and superficial logic which throughout his work clashes so +strangely with his power of perceiving and of marshalling his facts. + +The way he proposes to treat the “mystics, but especially egomaniacs +and filthy pseudo-realists,” forcibly reminds us of the solemn +resolution of the rats to bell the cat. He says: + +“Society must unconditionally defend itself against them. Whoever +believes with me that society is the natural organic form of humanity, +in which alone it can exist, prosper, and continue to develop itself +to higher destinies; whoever looks upon civilization as a good, having +value and deserving to be defended, must mercilessly crush under +his thumb the anti-social vermin. To him who, with Nietzsche, is +enthusiastic over the ‘freely-roving, lusting beast of prey,’ we cry: +‘Get you gone from civilization! Rove far from us! Be a lusting beast +of prey in the desert! Satisfy yourself! Level your roads, build your +huts, clothe and feed yourself as you can! Our streets and our houses +are not built for you; our looms have no stuffs for you; our fields are +not tilled for you. All our labour is performed by men who esteem each +other, have consideration for each other, mutually aid each other, and +who have to curb their selfishness for the general good. There is no +place among us for the lusting beast of prey; and if you dare to return +to us, we will pitilessly beat you to death with clubs.’” + +All this sounds very well; but if Nordau believes that in this passage +he has given us the true method of how to defend society against its +literary and artistic enemies, he labours under a delusion with regard +to his own achievements that savours somewhat of megalomania. His big +words, his righteous indignation, and his manifold signs of exclamation +are not a magic wand, are not a Saint Patrick’s mitre, with power to +banish toads and serpents from the country. + +When he says that society should be defended, we can understand him. +But when he says that society must defend itself, he drops into +the mist of commonplace and meaningless generalities. The word +“society” stands for one of those things which will serve very well +as the object of an activity, but not as a subject because, while +its smallest component part may be affected, action is only possible +through an organized co-operation of all its parts. To a German who +has never witnessed the attempt of a free democratic community to +launch out into collective activity, this difference in the active +and passive positions of society may never have occurred. To him +the activity of society seems an easy matter, because in his mind +society is represented by a concentrated, powerful, and pragmatical +administration. If Nordau had said “government should defend,” instead +of “society should defend,” he would at least have been logical; but +this he could not do, because, though an enemy to personal liberty, he +has seen enough of German forms of government to reject the postulate +of the Socialists regarding the infallibility of the central power; +while at the same time he has a healthy contempt for the judgment of +the continental police. He therefore says that society must defend +itself, and thus gives us a gratuitous piece of advice which is +thousands of years old. + +He calls upon all those who share his views to tell the enemies of +their race to be gone from civilization. But will they go? Why should +they be more obedient than the spirits from the vasty deep? The +administration of society would have to be completely centralized, +and the central Government would have to be absolutely despotic, in +order to compel such an exodus. Even with such a Government it might +be extremely difficult to accomplish. The most despotic Government in +the world—the Russian Government—have encountered enormous difficulties +in trying to expel the Jews, and this despite the fact that in this +endeavour they had the sympathies of the majority of the Russian +people, and could easily ascertain who were Jews and who were not. + +A Government, in England for example, that would attempt to expel +pernicious authors and artists would have none of these facilities. +They would first have to pass an Act of Parliament—the Graphomaniac, +Egomaniac, Pornographomaniac Authors and Symbolist Artists Expulsion +Act—and at least twenty Governments would be turned out before it could +get passed. But let us suppose that Parliament had decided on such an +expulsion of these offenders, then the real difficulties would begin, +namely, to decide who should be expelled and who should not. As to +killing the returning ones with clubs, this mode of execution being +abolished among us, hanging would have to be resorted to—an extremely +difficult operation in our days, when the abolition of capital +punishment is more and more being considered as one of the first steps +towards better ethics. + +Nordau admits that judges and the police cannot help us. The reason +which he gives with regard to Germany—the public contempt in which +the judges and police there stand—does not apply in England, where our +judges are beyond reproach, and the police is a highly respected body, +in consequence of being less pragmatical than any police force in the +world. Experience in England has given us far stronger reasons for not +using the law and the police force against authors and artists. Each +time it has been done, the very works intended to be suppressed have +gained a popularity and a circulation a thousand-fold greater than if +they had been left alone. + +Instead of tribunals and police, Nordau suggests a body similar to an +association in Germany bearing the name “Association of Men for the +Suppression of Immorality.” As he often deals with his authorities, so +he here deals with his model tribunal. He turns round and shows that +they are no good. “This association, it seems, pursues disbelief more +than immorality,” he says. Alas! such is the way with associations +of frail men. They are apt to leave undone those things which they +ought to have done, and to do those things which they ought not to +have done. Nordau here ranges himself with the crowd of sentimental +Socialists who are so angry with the world because it cannot see +how easily the regeneration of humanity would become by means of an +infallible and almighty Government. He and they cannot see that this +infallible and almighty Government is the very thing beyond our reach. +If he had inquired logically into the causes of the disappointing +results produced by the “Association of Men,” he could not have +failed to notice that the latter were more logical than himself. This +“Association of Men,” wanting to suppress vice by forcible action, +exactly as Nordau would, were sensible enough to strike at the +causes and not at the effects. They had found that atheism, and even +free-thinking, generally coincided with immorality; and that on the +other hand religious men were generally moral. Consequently, atheism +was found to produce immorality, and religion morality. In upholding +religion, therefore, they were upholding morality in a most effective +way, because morality without religion, or at least without expressed +religion, is found only in men of great intellectual powers and +scientific attainments; and to educate the mass of the people to that +point is, and will for a long time be, out of the question. Religion, +therefore, was the only choice of Nordau’s “Association of Men”; and, +if it was right to coerce people into morality, it was surely right to +coerce them into religion. From this it should be clear that the fault +does not lie in the reasoning of this “Association of Men,” but in the +postulate which Nordau has approved—namely, the coercion of anybody by +an “Association of Men.” + +He expects the new “Society for Ethical Culture” in Berlin to do +better, and wishes it to constitute itself as the voluntary guardian +of the people’s morality. What an extraordinary idea! One set of +men guarding the morality of another set of men—a small minority, +unauthorised, unrecognised, and devoid of all physical power, to guard +the morality of the great majority! The London authorities could tell +Nordau a great deal about the effects of such attempts, even when the +guardians of morality have the law and police at their back. But he +need not come to London to learn what guarded morality is worth, and +what the results of such guardianship are. The history of every country +teems with illustrations of the fact that every attempt to coerce +the people, morally or physically, into a moral life has invariably +brought about more hypocrisy, more secret corruption, and a tone of +greater immorality. If he distrusts universal experience, then he ought +to know, as a psychologist, that, so long as the human mind and the +human emotions are what they are, repression, supervision, and outside +interference with personal liberty must demoralize. + +The composition of his society would be no guarantee whatever +against deplorable effects. He proposes that it should consist of +instructors, professors, authors, members of Parliament, judges, and +high functionaries. To begin with, authors could not be included, +because they could not judge and be judged at the same time; and if the +qualification of authors were sufficient, what would prevent authors +of the Zola type from predominating in the association? Here, as with +regard to original causes, Nordau fancies that he has struck solid +ground when he has removed the difficulty a stage farther back. The +association is simply an instrument. All depends upon who forges it. Of +this he says not a word. He evidently expects it to arise as a miracle, +like the infallible Government of the Socialists. Were the German +Emperor to select the members of the association—which in Germany he +would have to do directly or indirectly—he would take upon himself an +enormous responsibility, for the fulfilment of which he would have to +acquire the necessary information and the necessary means. He would +simply be to ethics what the Pope is to the Catholic religion. + +Nordau boldly asserts that such an association would have “the power +to exercise an irresistible ‘boycot.’” Why? He evidently thinks so +because his association would be an influential one. He clearly does +not know what ought to be an axiom to any one who meddles with social +questions—namely, that the circulation of a condemned book increases +in an inverse ratio to the respect which the condemning authorities +enjoy. Thus, if his association were to consist of nobodies and were to +condemn a book, the condemnation would only increase the circulation +a little; but if it were to consist of the leading men of the German +Empire, the condemned book would be read all over the world. In +the matter of public censors nothing is of any avail that is not +absolutely despotic. By allowing Government and police to exercise +all kinds of violence, isolated newspaper paragraphs and leaders can +be suppressed before they are published, and the open circulation of +condemned books may be prevented. But once the public get hold of the +contents of an article and the name of a book, a secret circulation +at once sets in. Eyewitnesses who were in France when the French +Government confiscated and prohibited Edmond About’s _La Question +Romaine_ can relate the eagerness with which this book was read, and +tell of the numbers of copies circulated secretly. We cite this example +from the continent, as it corroborates what always happens in England. + +Nordau fondly imagines that the judgment of his association would +absolutely “annihilate” not only the book, but the author. The +contrary would happen. As long as there is a grain of love of liberty +in humanity, the condemnation by an authority of a man’s book will +make him the object of public sympathy. When Nordau says that “no +respectable bookseller would keep the condemned book, no respectable +paper would mention it,” his meaning entirely depends on his standard +of respectability—one of those standards he absolutely refuses to +give us. Every one knows that there are respectable booksellers and +papers, and that there are non-respectable booksellers and papers. +But who could undertake to draw the line of demarcation between the +two categories? In a small German town where there are only one or +two booksellers this line is easily drawn. But how about places like +Berlin, Hamburg, Paris, Vienna, and London? Besides, a bookseller and +a newspaper might be highly respectable, but differ diametrically from +an association which would have Nordau’s approval. Surely he would not +push his mania so far as to deny a respectable character to all the +booksellers and newspapers who, for instance, refuse to boycot Ibsen? + +Nordau also thinks that the specialists in insanity should come out of +their shells and publicly denounce the degenerate authors and artists. +In England, for example, he thinks that Maudsley could exercise a +healthy influence. But he would be surprised at the small number of +people in England, outside the profession, who read works on mental +disease. _Degeneration_ has been widely read; but this is because it +levels startling accusations against well-known authors and artists, +and because it purports to give a novel scientific interpretation of +familiar phenomena, with the purpose of turning our opinions with +regard to some branches of art and literature topsy-turvy. It is +not to science alone that it owes its wide circulation, but to the +clever—conscious or unconscious—sophistries it contains. English +psychologists and specialists in insanity could not afford to launch +out after the manner of Nordau. They might secure a certain number +of readers; but they would lose their patients. A specialist who came +before the public with Nordau’s artless and ill-considered scheme +for the defence of society against its enemies, could not hope to be +taken seriously by an English public. In England we have had a too +large experience of books with a tendency, of log-rolling, of veiled +advertisement, and of sly party thrusts, to be influenced by such a +suggestion of lunacy against political opponents as is contained in +the following sentence from Nordau: “A Maudsley in England, a Charcot, +a Magnan in France, a Lombroso, a Tonnini in Italy, have brought to +vast circles of people an understanding of the obscure phenomena in +the life and the mind, and disseminated knowledge which would make it +impossible in those countries for pronounced lunatics with the mania +for persecution to gain an influence over hundreds of thousands of +citizens.” + +It is impossible for us to imagine an English specialist in insanity +attributing the absence of anti-semitism in England to his own +writings, or those of other psychologists, as Nordau does in this +sentence. If the German electors can believe such a wild party +distortion, they are not the men we take them for. We have already +explained the causes of the existence of anti-semitism in Germany, +and of its absence in England. We do not expect that Nordau will +acknowledge our view to be right. For had he not been so entirely the +creature of prejudice on this, as on many other subjects outside his +specialty, he would, unassisted, have discovered so obvious a truth. + +Englishmen are not less anxious than he to defend society against its +enemies; but only the most inexperienced and illogical Englishman would +recommend such remedies as our alienist seems to consider as the height +of wisdom. Though we have been slow about it, we seem at last to have +grasped the not very hidden truth that if society—that is to say, the +people—is moral enough to elect an association capable of acting as +an ethical censor over art and literature, we believe the people also +capable of exercising that censorship directly, instead of indirectly +through an association. This censorship by the people themselves has +the immense advantage of working unostentatiously and silently, and +without advertising the very work that should be suppressed. + +We think it futile to condemn, or even to suppress, a work; and on +grounds of expediency only, regardless of principle, to club the +sinning author. The source from which the condemned work sprang would +yield more such works, and the circumstances which had produced the +objectionable author would produce more objectionable authors. These, +as well as their works, are the symptoms of a social malady, and we +should treat them as such. We have ceased to apply to society the old +methods, long since abandoned by the medical profession, of curing an +evil by means of violent suppression of the symptoms—methods adhered to +by Nordau with regard to society, but, let us hope, not with regard to +his patients. + +We leave the symptoms alone: for they allow us to diagnose the evil, +and we go for the causes. In looking for them, we try to keep our +minds free from such prejudices as influence Nordau’s logic. We +should not cry out for new ethical standards, for new and impossible +moral authorities, while we ruthlessly destroy a standard and an +authority—religion—the practical usefulness of which could not be +replaced for centuries by any new standard or authority, even if +invented now. + +Recognising the truth in Voltaire’s flippant saying, that if God did +not exist we should have to invent Him, we do not, as the superstitious +scientists do, first abolish Him and then re-invent Him in the clumsy +form of a “mechanical causality.” We let the holders of the ominous +rings—of which Nathan der Weiser told Saladin—do their utmost to prove +by virtue and happiness that they hold the magic ring conferring these +privileges. It matters little to us whether the genuine ring be the +Christian one, the Jewish one, or the scientists’, so long as the +belief in the holders of each of the rings stimulates them to prove +its genuineness. We would not tell the great majority who pin their +faith to the Christian ring—even if we believe it to be spurious—that +we can prove it to be worthless, and that the scientists’ ring alone +will bring salvation: for we know that this ring is beyond the reach of +most of them, and that, handled in the wrong way, it will work curses +instead of blessings. We limit ourselves to telling them that the rings +held by the others must not be despised until the Great Competition is +adjudicated. + +In our quest for the causes of degeneration, we do not begin by trying +to discover traces of lunacy in a small number of prominent citizens. +We bear in mind that these are either isolated cases, or types of a +generally prevailing tendency. In the first case, we leave them alone; +in the second, we search for the cause of this tendency. If we find +that the tendency, let us say, toward hysteria, or egomania, in the +upper classes is being produced by a craving for excitement, unhealthy +pleasures, or artificial sensations, and by a frivolous and empty life, +we set about to discover the causes of this craving and this empty life. + +If we again discover that the cause is found in the decay of the +beliefs in personal responsibility, in the importance of philanthropy, +morality, and patriotism, we try to discover why these beliefs have +decayed. If it be found that they have decayed simultaneously with +and in consequence of the decay of the authority of the Church, we +try either to strengthen the influence of the Church by purifying and +reforming it, or we replace its dogmas and its doctrines by a healthy +and moral philosophy. + +Should we find, on the other hand, that the deplorable state among the +poorer classes—their suffering, their degradation, and their joyless +lives, co-existing with large fortunes, and irremediable under present +laws and institutions—leads to the conclusion that the altruistic +feelings of the wealthy are useless, and thus prompt among the upper +classes selfishness and egomania, and the determination to drown +their higher emotions in a giddy life, and in the poorer classes to +foster destructive tendencies and the desire for revenge, we turn our +attention to social remedies. + +No one can turn his attention to the social state of the working class +in England, and throughout the world, without discovering a host of +motors active in the production of dire misery, and all the mental +and moral degradation that follows in its train—a degradation which +aggravates the misery, and reacts, as we have shown, on the upper +classes. Nothing will more actively stay the progress of any mental +degeneration which might be going on than the removal of the causes of +the awful misery suffered by such an alarming proportion of civilized +humanity. Nordau’s warning against mental decay and progression towards +folly will, we hope, quicken, if not the higher emotions, at least the +sense of self-preservation among the leading classes throughout the +world. But it must be regretted that he, not only in his suggestion of +remedies, but in many other parts of his work, displays a lack of logic +and a want of clear perception as soon as he quits the narrow precincts +of his special science and the teachings of his manifold authorities, +and falls back on his own reasoning powers. Had he prevented his +prejudices from colouring his views, and had he not sacrificed logic +for brilliancy, his work would have been of no slight assistance to +those who are helping on humanity in its staggering onward movement. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +_VIGOROUS AFFIRMATIONS_ + + +It has come to our knowledge that a great number of people in this +country who have read through the whole of Nordau’s bulky volume have +carried away an impression far from pleasant. Indeed, there are few +men or women in a country like England who might not, on some plea or +another, come under the suspicion of mental degeneration, if all that +Nordau says were, regardless of his contradictions, accepted as true. +In this country education and morality are based entirely on religious +principles, and most of the inhabitants are, either by faith or by +dint of sincere philosophical inquiry, to some extent religionists. +All these might think themselves included among those whom Nordau +stigmatises as degenerates. There are also a great number who admire +intensely Burne Jones, Rossetti, and many other painters of the same +school, and all these have been told, with somewhat brutal frankness, +that they are on the road to lunacy. The pieces of Ibsen have a great +number of admirers who have welcomed with pleasure the additional +intelligence and interest which he has infused into the drama, and who +consequently have been pointed out as degenerate imbeciles. + +In the light of these facts there remain few educated persons among +the upper classes of this country about whose intellectual soundness +Nordau’s work might not raise doubts. This all the more so as his +few reservations with regard to people who have demonstrated their +sanity by practical ability to conduct their own affairs, sink into +insignificance among his voluminous and wholesale accusations, +especially as such reservations are forgotten almost as soon as they +are made. + +This wholesale issue of certificates of madness would not have mattered +so much if his work did not carry with it a certain power of conviction +which tells especially with the weak, uninstructed mind, and with +people who have not read his work with special attention. In fact, we +know cases of people of sensitive mind who imagine that, thanks to +Nordau’s book, their friends will look upon them as on the road to +lunacy. + +There can be little doubt that the strong impression the book has made, +sometimes in one way and sometimes in another, is largely due to the +style adopted by its author. The secret of this style is revealed in +the chapter “Prognosis,” where he describes with somewhat elephantine +humour the effects in the twentieth century of the present progressing +degeneration. He says, among other things, that companies of men will +be formed who “by vigorous affirmations are charged to tranquillize +persons afflicted with the mania of doubt, when taken by a fit of +nervousness.” + +Such a piece of prophecy could only enter the head of a man who has had +practical experience of the great effect produced on nervous people by +vigorous affirmations, and, having had this experience, Nordau fills +his volume with such “vigorous affirmations.” His method has succeeded +all the better as he evidently belongs to that class of powerful and +strong-willed men who, when once they have formed an opinion, hold to +it tenaciously, and count as nothing any conviction against their will. + +Having followed Nordau through his vigorous crusade against that score +of people whom he regards as dangerous enemies to humanity, and having +pointed out a host of his logical errors, erroneous perceptions, +unsound postulates, and exaggerated representations, we propose before +closing this volume to examine some of the reasoning methods which give +him his apparent strength. + +It is to him of great moment that his readers shall not believe in the +existence of the thinking and feeling _Ego_ as a person, apart from +the organic mechanism which conveys impressions and presentations to +the _Ego_. He uses all the arguments which that school of thinkers to +which he belongs has piled up in order to show that mind is a condition +of matter. He says nothing about the arguments on the other side, but +treats them as the science of the past. He takes for granted, without +showing a vestige of doubt, that human beings are nothing but organic +mechanisms. He does not even refer to, or allow that there is, anything +beyond the present scientific discoveries, and scornfully ignores the +existence of what less prejudiced scientists call the Unknowable. He +thus treats a question which still trembles in the balance as if it +were already decided in favour of his pet theories. + +The attitude which biologists and psychologists take up as such, and +with the special purpose of proceeding in their investigations with +perfectly unbiassed minds, Nordau assumes as a philosopher, and tries +to persuade himself and others that he has taken his stand on absolute +facts. Science proceeds on the supposition that only that is true +which has been proved so by demonstrations to our senses, or through +deductions from such demonstrations. This, of course, is a postulate +the illogicality of which most scientific men are aware of, and is +adopted mostly for the purpose, as it were, of clearing the ground. To +assume, apart from their investigating attitude, that there is nothing +more to know than what is already known, would be an utterly absurd +assumption, as it would, if acted upon, preclude further investigation. + +Nordau does not, and would not, deny that there is more to learn, +but he persists in the view that all future knowledge will be on the +lines of our present knowledge, and never contradictory to the present +prevailing scientific dogmas. He remains under this impression, because +he forgets that science has progressed, progresses, and, as far as we +see now, always will progress through investigations by our senses, +and that this fact brings two important truths conspicuously into +relief. The first, that our senses are liable to deceive us, and that +consequently the difference between primitive views—the result of +imperfect observation—and the scientific opinions of the day is not one +of kind, but simply one of degree. In olden times the senses deceived +us very much, and nowadays they deceive us less. But to what an extent +they deceive us now the future alone can reveal. The second, that +science with the present methods cannot investigate anything that does +not appeal to our senses. + +To deny the existence of anything that does not appeal directly to our +senses is absurd, because we should have to deny all the forces of +nature. The existence of these can only be detected by their effects. +The more science teaches us about forces, the more the view gains +adherence that the forces are not a state of matter, but a thing apart, +if matter is not a state of force. Even if this view should prove to be +correct, the error it would dispel, that force is a state of matter, +would be pardonable, as force only has come within the perception of +our senses through its effect on matter. + +Psychology has to some extent succeeded in tracing and in describing +certain forces which are at work in our nerves and our brains, such +as, for example, reveal themselves in the reception and elaboration +of presentations. But within every human being there are well-known +phenomena which tell of forces—or of one general force—which so far +have escaped all investigation. These phenomena are emotion, judgment, +will. + +Attentive readers of Nordau’s books will have noticed that, in +his scientific dissertations on the actions of the brain, these +factors—emotion, judgment, will—turn up suddenly without the slightest +explanation as to whence they come and what they are, though they seem +to completely determine the action of the whole organism. It is with +this enormous gap in their chain of reasoning that some scientists, +with more learning than logic, jump to the conclusion that the thinking +and feeling _Ego_ is only a state of matter. + +Nordau, being anxious, as we have already mentioned, to magnify the +importance of his psychological theories by undermining his readers’ +belief in the existence of anything unscientifically called “soul” or +“spirit,” renders his task easier by attacking religion, of which the +belief in the existence of the spiritual _Ego_ is a vital part. He +knows that if he can compass the rejection of the idea of religion +he kills two birds with one stone. He gets rid of the personal _Ego_ +as well as the belief in eternal life, both of which, if admitted to +be realities, would strongly point to an intelligent Providence the +existence of which would be a colossal impediment to the glorification +of science and of scientists. + +The way in which he strives to undermine religious belief is ingenious +and often effective. He trusts chiefly to the historical argument. He +goes back to primitive man in order to show that he, in his ignorance +of nature, attributed those natural phenomena which strongly impressed +him to some man mightier than himself. Nordau tries to show that out +of this belief arose what he would call superstition, the several +forms of religion. He here of course appeals to feeling more than to +reason. People do not like to feel that they have remained in the +depth of ignorance of the primitive savage, and might feel disposed +to join the glorious company of the apostles of science. But if we +use our reasoning powers we cannot fail to perceive that science has +merely taught us the methods by which, and the laws according to which, +nature works, and that as to the forces behind the laws of nature the +scientist is as ignorant as the primitive savage. + +Nordau also pursues that diplomatic course—or commits the error—as +we have already pointed out, of confounding religion with the +Churches. It is easy to inspire distrust in religion if it be permitted +to consider Pope Borgia, Ignatius Loyola, and Dr. Stöcker as its +inevitable results. By analyzing, to some extent distorting the essence +of ritual, Nordau seeks to point out that Christian worship is not only +sheer imbecility, but also an insult to the supposed God. He never +notices such discrepancies between the Churches and religion as are, +for example, revealed by the anti-semitist movement in Germany, which +naturally he keenly resents. From the defects, the shortcomings, the +superstitions, the antiquated dogmas of the Churches, he tries to draw +the sweeping conclusion that a belief in an intelligent Providence, in +the existence of a soul, and in a spiritual life independent of the +body is the outcome of degenerate mental powers. + +The views that by such means he endeavours to impose upon his readers +mean that man, being an organic mechanism, ceases to exist when he +dies. If this be so, there is no personal responsibility, and only that +man would be wise, rational, undegenerate, who so arranges his life +that he may live long, keep in good health, and enjoy all the pleasures +that he desires, be they noble or ignoble. To test, then, whether a man +who is, who believes he is, or merely poses as, a disbeliever in future +responsibility, we ought to examine how he regulates his life. Only in +this manner can we discover to what an extent he is influenced—to use +Nordau’s own language—by the inherited tendencies to worship lurking +somewhere in the innermost recesses of his consciousness, or, to use +our own language, by the instinctive feeling of personal responsibility +which has characterized humanity in every stage of barbarism and +civilization. + +The fact that a great many scientists, including Nordau, do not live +as if they were perfectly convinced of the non-existence of personal +responsibility beyond the grave, requires quite a different kind of +explanation than that generally afforded, before we abandon the belief +that they are self-deceivers. The moral scientists themselves have +found the necessity of some explanation, and this is what they say, +though perhaps in other words: “We do not believe in any responsibility +beyond the grave, but we do what we think our duty to humanity. We +should be sorry and ashamed to be actuated by a fear of punishment or +the desire for reward, and not to do what is right and good for the +sake of the right and the good.” + +This sounds very beautiful, but too boastful almost to be accepted +as the bare truth. Some of them who are aware of this, or who are +genuinely too modest to thus stand forward as demi-gods, add: “In +living and acting as we do, and wanting others to live and to act in +the same way, we are not more unselfish, nor morally better, than +others. We are only wiser; in fact, more intellectually selfish. And +all we desire of other people is that they should be intellectually +selfish. In exercising self-control and devotion to others, we do not +deprive ourselves of pleasures and enjoyments, because most of these +come to us from our surroundings and from society at large. For what +we do for our wives and families, we get love in return; for what we +do for society and the race, we get two rewards: firstly, esteem and +reputation, perhaps money; and, secondly, all the social advantages +which are valuable to us in the same proportion as society is in a +healthy state.” + +This seems highly convincing, but it does not by far cover the whole +ground. Whoever has studied our times well knows that a man can secure +for himself, and even for his family and friends, enormous advantages +by disregarding and violating the interests and moral rights of others, +and also that, when wholesale rascality succeeds, when it is productive +of great wealth, great social and political power, it also secures +esteem and reputation. There are, of course, men in positions, the +stock-in-trade of which consists in honesty and even philanthropy; but +there are others, and millions of them, who could, under the present +social systems of the world, amass fortunes and rise to distinction by +systematic robbery. Thousands of cases could be stated in proof of the +fact that, in the absence of the belief in responsibility after death, +selfishness will prompt men to hurt their fellow-beings and society in +order to secure money, power, and reputation for themselves. Take the +case of a poor labourer who, in the usual course, will work and suffer +during his whole life and die in poverty. To escape such a destiny +many roads are open to him if he have courage, exceptional ability, +and no belief in a hereafter. He could commit a variety of crimes in +order to give him a start in life without the slightest chance of +being detected, and without experiencing the smallest inconvenience +during his lifetime. He might even avoid violent and vulgar crimes, +and operate in a safer manner. He might blackmail a rich man. He +might in war betray his country. He might sell himself to a corrupt +political party. He might join the army of some selfish sovereign bent +on conquest and plunder, and gain a high position. Or he might pursue +yet safer methods. He might turn first a usurer, then a financier. He +might keep a degrading public-house, or a gigantic immoral place of +amusement. He might issue a debasing newspaper, write corrupting books +and dramatic pieces. Provided he does not expose himself to the hatred, +contempt, and even the unfavourable criticism of his fellow-beings, +or injure his health, there is positively nothing to prevent him from +adopting all these courses to the great detriment of humanity, so long +as he is perfectly sure that he shall not be called to account after +death. + +What some of our scientists forget is that very few people are in +the same position as they themselves are, where respectability and +quasi-philanthropy pay; but, on the contrary, that the great majority +live under the constant temptation to secure wealth, health, esteem, +and reputation by means which are injurious to society. To such +arguments they can only reply that the man, however successful, who +attains his success by anti-social means runs a risk of ruining the +happiness of his life by loss of self-respect. + +But, if the man has a conscience,—and he could not lose his +self-respect without one,—it could not trouble him so long as he was +convinced that he had done the best for himself. By bringing the +conscience at all into the discussion, the scientists fall back on an +emotion which has been always intimately associated with the sense of +personal responsibility, and which they themselves have been compelled, +in order to protect their theories, to deny absolutely as an instinct +or to represent as the result of religious education. + +For this reason, Nordau would not call that instinct in man which +prompts him to live and act morally—an instinct which is the original +motor of all moral progress—conscience. He would probably prefer to +call it the social instinct. But names matter little. The essential +point is, that there exists in man’s consciousness a strong instinct +which cannot be reasoned away. This instinct is intimately connected +with another, without which it would never have produced the results +we see around us—namely, the instinct that the _Ego_ is imperishable. +No one would deny the universal existence of this instinct, but plenty +of scientists, while acknowledging it as an inherited tendency, would +deny it any value as an argument in favour of the immortality of the +_Ego_, on the ground that a hazy, unreasoned, and utterly inexplicable +yearning need not have a distinct goal. + +The instinct of human beings is a subject which has been very much +neglected by science, and for the good reason that, whatever instincts +may be natural to man, they have been carefully smothered by teachings, +examples, and experience, all appealing to his reason from infancy +upwards. He never uses, never tries, and never suspects the existence +of his instincts, and when accidentally they lead him right, he +regards the fact as a delusion, and even avoids mentioning it from +a fear of being laughed at. This has however not prevented men, and +often remarkable men, from being guided by their instincts; only it +is called feeling, taste, luck. There are examples of men who owe the +greater part of their success to instinctive feeling, and who have +committed great mistakes by having trusted too much to it. Besides it +is generally believed that women’s instincts are clear and trustworthy, +and many men consider themselves to have been largely benefited by +consulting them. + +But, in order to get at a true appreciation of the value and power of +instincts, we must go to the animals. What else but instinct could we +call the feeling which allows the carrier-pigeon to find its way from +London to Paris in an atmosphere of darkness and fog which would render +it impossible for the most experienced mariner to distinguish between +north and south. It is a well-known fact that dogs and even cats that +have been left behind by their owners have followed them at great +distances, though the owner has gone by rail or water and the animal +has had to find its way across country. In face of such facts and +considerations, no man who has not a strong bias would suggest that an +instinct that is general to humanity need not be heeded. + +The instinct of personal responsibility cannot be re-christened +social instinct and then minimised by the assertion that the social +instinct is the outcome of reason, the sense of self-preservation, and +intelligent selfishness: for in that case the poor labourer who wanted +to become wealthy and famous, as instanced above, could be as evil as +he liked so long as he was successful, and could not be restrained by +the social instinct, but only by conscience, or in other words, the +feeling of unlimited personal responsibility. + +Atheistic scientists who lead a moral and useful life cannot hold +themselves up as a pattern of results produced by social instincts, +because in the great majority of men, placed differently, these +instincts would permit them to injure society to an enormous extent. +Nor does the assertion of these scientists bear the stamp of sincerity +when they say: “Behold us, we have no belief in personal responsibility +beyond the grave. And yet we labour and run risks for the good of +humanity. We sacrifice our time, our money, our health for others, +and we remain poor while we could be rich. Our life is the outcome of +intelligent selfishness.” + +They would have a better chance of convincing us if they said: “Life +after death is impossible. We prove by our lives that we believe this. +Our moral lives and our humanitarianism are sheer hypocrisy which we +practise in order to get esteem and fame. The books we write are not +true, but they bring us money, and we do not care how much evil we +inflict on humanity by ripping away the only foundation on which its +morality and happiness can be built, while the substitute which we +supply is worthless. We might have averted an immense amount of vice +and degradation by leaving old religions alone until the Religion of +Humanity was perfect enough to replace them. But we attack them now +because in this way we make money and fame.” + +It is not the well-meaning, plodding scientist, striving to arrest +disease, lessen pain, and dispel superstition, that can bounce us into +the belief in personal irresponsibility. This could only be done by +real flesh-and-blood Ducs des Esseintes, men like the hero in Huysman’s +novel, _A Rebours_. This author, whom Nordau classes among drivelling +imbeciles, has shown that he has a clearer idea than our clever +alienist what type of men the certitude of personal irresponsibility +could produce. We are fully convinced that Nordau is no Duc des +Esseintes at heart, masquerading as a benefactor of humanity, and, +if he boasts a little of his good intentions and not at all of his +wickedness, it is because he believes that what he does is right, +and does it because he is prompted by that strong sense of personal +responsibility which his scientific prejudices and his lack of logical +power cause him to deny. + +Having striven by “vigorous affirmations” to implant the belief in +his readers’ minds that they have no _Ego_ independent of their body, +and that they consequently are fatally doomed to become what their +defective brains and nerves are bound to make them, he proceeds with +another series of “vigorous affirmations,” that degeneration is on the +increase, that it is characteristic of the end of the century, that +the men whom we take for geniuses are mattoids, and finally, that the +whole of our western civilization is degenerate. We have, in preceding +chapters, tried to show how he has neglected to pay any attention to +the many signs all over the civilized world indicating an increase in +mental and moral powers; how he endeavours to overwhelm his readers by +comparisons between the symptoms in real degenerates, or lunatics, and +similar symptoms—accompanied however by perfect rationality and great +intelligence—in authors and artists, and concludes that they are as mad +as the madman. He tries to force this conclusion on the unwary reader +by simply ignoring all other grounds for eccentricity that would have +been taken into account by an unbiassed enquirer. + +Let us instance the way in which he judges Zola. He never for an +instant regards him as a free agent, but speaks of him as a patient +suffering from erotic madness and other brain and nerve affections, +which compel the novelist to write, and to write exactly in the vein he +does. + +The very idea that human beings should be thus subjected to all kinds +of irresistible impulses produces the same gruesome impression as +the old stories of demoniacal possession. Nordau might as well have +described Zola as a man hating above all things the writing of novels, +with a natural repugnance for anything savouring of the obscene, +compelled by a demon in possession of his body and his soul to write +the history of the Rougeon-Maquarts and other distasteful works. On +the careful reader the impression would have been precisely the same. +But no number of “vigorous affirmations” would have induced even the +most weak-minded of readers to have accepted the demon, while Zola’s +eroticism and his mischievous olfactory nerves may have imprinted +themselves upon the minds of some by dint of scientific dissertation. + +While it would seem to most people rational to study Zola’s character +and the state of his mind, in order to form a correct idea of the +objects he has in view, Nordau, by his method of supposing that a +writer is not a free agent, but is compelled to exhibit for the readers +of his works the innermost recesses of his consciousness, proceeds in +the opposite manner: he evolves the characters of writers from the +characters of their books. From what he says about Zola, one feels +inclined to conclude that this author devotes the large amounts he +makes by his writings to the gratification of bestial lusts, living in +a kind of harem of degraded women, rapidly destroying by debauch every +spark of intelligence left in his tottering brain. We do not know M. +Zola personally, but from what we hear, he seems to live a quiet and +laborious life with his wife in a peaceful country house, and far from +spending his earnings in riotous living, he banks them as a reserve +for old age, which he seems likely to attain. When however a man’s +private life and rational attention to his own business seem to clash +conspicuously with Nordau’s diagnoses, his serenity and self-confidence +are not in the slightest degree disturbed, because he has given his +description to the man’s tendency in a “psychiatric sense,” and has +referred to the man’s actual life. But the discrepancy between the +author’s actual life and the life he, according to Nordau, ought to +lead, is not an extenuating circumstance in the eyes of so harsh a +judge as our alienist. On the contrary, it aggravates the sentence, for +if the accused author is not in reality the monster he ought to be, it +is simply because his attenuated physique does not allow of it, and +drives him through all his debaucheries in his imagination. + +We do not admire such literature as Zola has put forth, and do not +believe that it has accomplished one iota of the good at which +its author, according to his admirers, aims. But all rational men +should bear in mind that such books are sure indications that there +is something rotten in the State. To ascertain to what an extent +the circumstances surrounding the author are capable of inducing a +sound-minded man like Zola to write such books, before jumping to the +conclusion that such authors are lunatics, would be the method adopted +by sincere searchers after truth. + +A rapid survey of the circumstances under which Zola began to write +will at once show that the inborn eroticism and even coprolalia which +Nordau tries to foist upon Zola were not the only influences to which +he was subjected. In Paris, as in all great capitals, there is a +host of young ambitious _littérateurs_ who compete for the attention +not only of the public but of the publishers. It is far from certain +that the books which most please the public would be most acceptable +to the publishers, and the latter are, therefore, to a great extent +responsible for the state of literature. Nordau says that M. Alphonse +Lemerre was able to make Parnassians, as the editor, Cotta, in the +first half of the century, made German classics; and he is right. A +Parisian publisher has the power to make pornographic authors just +as well as Parnassians. He is a business man, and of course wishes +to obtain a large circulation for his books, and, therefore, is on +the look-out for authors who are sensational one way or another. At +the time Zola began to write, the obscene novel was beginning to be +fashionable. Paul de Kock and his imitators had become old-fashioned, +and the corruption of the Third Empire, as well as the spread of +scientific atheism, had created a demand for something racier than the +peccadilloes of light-hearted _viveurs_. Besides, pessimism was in the +ascendant, and erotic literature had to be morbid instead of gallant +and gay. + +Several authors of great ability, but strongly influenced by the +pessimism of the time, and with the field of their ethical studies +limited to the Parisian boulevards and the Quartier Breda, had paved +the way for that false realistic literature of which Zola’s writing may +be called the climax. The publishers, knowing their market, were eager +to accept books of an obscene character, provided they were serious +and written in a philosophical spirit. Zola may have seen his way to +eclipse anything written in that style, and being himself a child of +his time,—materialist, and nervously inclined to exaggeration,—may have +seized upon the chance of making money and fame, though he probably +foresaw that his first novels would expose him to the execration of the +Philistines and the respectable world. He might also have foreseen that +one day he would be able to establish a sufficient fame to be received +by English _littérateurs_ as a genius of his time. If, therefore, +Zola’s object was to push himself to the front in the manner we here +suppose him to have done, he has certainly succeeded—a fact which +could not establish his intellectual degradation. He simply yielded to +a tremendous temptation, and if he did so under the impression that +the scientists had completely proved the non-existence of personal +responsibility, Nordau should be the last to blame him. + +But there is not the slightest necessity to assume—nor do we +assume—that Zola yielded to any temptation at all. On the contrary, it +is perfectly possible that, in writing the books he has, he sincerely +believed that he was serving some good purpose. Knowing how many other +Frenchmen feel in this respect, we might well suppose that he reasoned +somewhat in the following manner: Religion is wrong, and a fraud +practised by the clever on the simple-minded. The control which the +Church has assumed over the relations of the sexes is one of the means +by which it retains its power, and is fraught with immense unhappiness +to the people. The separation of the sexes, and the devout decency +which refrains from openly speaking or writing about sexual subjects, +distort the people’s ideas, inflame their imagination, and tempt them +into unhealthy vice. Nature is not sinful. It is either the only +divinity we have, or it is created by the Almighty, and in this case it +is holy. To yield rationally to its dictates is therefore no sin. Books +should therefore be written to prove this point, and at the same time +accustom the people to look upon nature and its laws without shame, +without hypocrisy, and without running the risk of being overpowered by +wild passions. In this way humanity may be elevated, because it will +be frank and natural, and religion, which science has proved to be +inimical to humanity, will lose its influence. + +We are not saying that Zola’s ideas ran in this groove, only that it is +possible that they did. If they did, he would have been utterly wrong; +but he would not have been the first nor the last man whose views have +been influenced by his interests. No man who knows both France and +England better than Nordau seems to do could for one moment doubt that +had Zola been born and educated in England, where the surroundings are +so vastly different to those of France, he would have written books +of quite a different character, and probably free from obscenity. +If this be true, it constitutes another reason why the surrounding +circumstances of an author should be considered before it is asserted +that inborn degeneration is alone responsible for the blemishes of his +work. + +Nordau himself points out that the fashion which brought Zola to the +front is on the decline, and that his influence is on the wane. If so, +it only proves how limited the influence of such supposed degenerates +really is, and that—at least with regard to Zola—Nordau’s book is out +too late, and those who have been deeply impressed by his “vigorous +affirmations” about the mental decay of the race need not despond. + +Over and over again civilization and society have been threatened +by new and apparently dangerous tendencies, but they have generally +culminated in absurd exaggerations, and have thus lost their potency. +Who knows whether Zola, through the wisdom that the years bring, will +not change his opinions, and with them his vein of writing? We feel +morally certain that he is now engaged on some novel entirely free from +those erotic allusions which Nordau says he cannot avoid—a book as +pure as the first part of _La Joie de Vivre_; and if he does, what will +become of Nordau’s imperious dogmas? + +Another of those features of Nordau’s work which strongly impresses +his readers is seriousness. He speaks throughout in that grave and +solemn tone—the So-spake-the-Lord style—which never yet failed to +impress superficial readers. He is anxious to convey the impression +that if he has to say unpleasant things it is because his teachings are +momentous to humanity, and not because he wishes to be sensational. He +condescends to speak about poetry, drama, and music, but he plainly +shows it to be his opinion that all these are vanities, and hardly +worthy to occupy a great man’s thoughts. He aims at crushing with his +contempt both artists and poets, the whole herd who have neglected +science, and who try to divert the attention of humanity from this +all-important subject. He would scare us with the threat that, when +science has elevated humanity for a little longer, such frivolities as +poetry, music, and dancing will be relegated to the nursery. Grown-up +men and women, who now indulge in such pastimes, are made to feel +that they belong to degenerates, and that they only prove their folly +if they look upon themselves with any self-respect. He endeavours to +deprive love between persons of the two sexes of its poetical reality, +and to wrap it in a gloomy scientific misconception by regarding it as +a feeling of comradeship grown out of habit, or as the same sexual +instinct as in animals. The pure and real love which permeates life, +which gives to man his manhood, and to woman her true womanhood, which +has created the home and therefore the State—this love he denies, and +expects serious-minded readers to look upon the world-phenomenon and +the drama of humanity deprived of their chief elements—light, heat, and +motion. He speaks of the tendency in men and women to take their own +life when its burdens out-balance its pleasures as calmly as if suicide +were the usual exit from our earthly existence. + +Nordau thus obtains part of his success by the same methods as those so +freely adopted by the gloomy, anathematising preachers—rapidly becoming +types of the past—who, by threats of the devil and hell-fire, aim at +compelling their hearers to turn their attention from this world in +order to brood exclusively on dismal dogmas. He would fain banish from +our minds all that appeals to what is truest within us—our imagination +and our emotions,—as the kill-joy fanatics in the pulpit have banished +from our villages the maypole, the dance on the green, and the forfeit +game. + +He is much mistaken if he believes that by such means he can in our +days produce a lasting impression on the common-sense and intensely +human English mind. Here and there he may drive some clouded soul into +neo-Catholicism, and augment the ranks of the Symbolists and the +Decadents, but he will only make the morbid more morbid, or morbid in +a different mood. The hard-working and enlightened Englishman does not +apply himself savagely to his business for business’ sake. Nor does he +encourage scientific progress for the sake of science. + +When he considers himself, and is considered by others, an eminently +practical man, it is because he knows what he aims at, and uses, +studies, and encourages the most effective and promptest means to +attain his ends. But the secret and the essence of this English +practicality lies in the fact that his aims, so clear and so precise, +are determined by his imagination, his emotions, and his instincts. +Unlike the German who despairs of realizing his ideal, the Englishman +has it in his imagination as clearly before him as the architect has +the plans, elevations, and sections of the palace he is going to build. +He does not begin to build until he is convinced that every detail is +correct. Nothing discourages him more than the spoiling and blurring of +his ideals; he stops his work, as does the builder when his drawings +are lost, or found impracticable. + +It is vain for Nordau to try to persuade the average Englishman, be +he educated or not, that the enjoyments which enchant him in his +youth shall not cast their roseate hue over the rest of his days. +Poetry, music, the drama, are part and parcel of the pleasures the +English people look forward to when business has supplied them with +the means of enjoying them in the expensive form in which, with us, +unfortunately, they are alone obtainable in perfection. + +It is not only such enjoyments as educated people of all ages +appreciate which for an Englishman retain a life-long charm. Even +his boyish tastes give zest to his life, so long as he retains his +faculties. At ten years of age he reads, raves, and dreams about horses +and dogs; at seventy he rides to hounds, and at a still more advanced +age he partakes in all the excitements of the racecourse. As a boy he +reads about travels and adventures; at middle age, or even later, we +find him travelling all over the world in quest of big and small game. +Cricket, football, boating, and athletics in general represent the life +of English boys, and far into old age they can seldom refrain from +glancing at the sporting columns of their paper, which to a foreigner +appear as interesting as the dullest of dull market reports; while +athletic sports are witnessed by ever-growing crowds of people of all +ages, who watch the proceedings with a zest as intense as that of the +Spaniard watching a bullfight. + +And to people who thus enjoy their lives, Nordau would say: “You are +degenerates, because you enjoy childish things. Put them behind you, +and rise to my level. Take a seat at the table of science, where we +will show you by dissection, and by vivisection, the minutest details +of the entrails of those creatures which, in the fulness of their life, +in the beauty of their form, afford you a childish delight.” + +If such be the road to regeneration, only the weak-minded among +the English people will enter upon it. Thousands might momentarily +experience a depression—a gloom similar to that produced by the +fulminating and damnation-dealing preacher one meets with in country +districts. The dismal appearance of the orator, his description of +hell, of an accursed world, of the narrow way to salvation, as well +as the scared faces in the dark and dank little church, may evoke +a gruesome mood while the sermon lasts. But on coming out into the +summer air, into the midst of the revivifying sunshine, of the rustling +trees, radiant flowers, singing birds, dancing butterflies, and softly +humming bees, the healthy-minded of the congregation experience a sense +of relief and joy; for the uncharitable condemnation of the ascetic +preacher is powerfully contradicted by the direct and unmistakable +language in which nature appeals to man’s emotions. + +The depressing effect of Nordau’s book is enhanced by his ostentatious +display of knowledge, and by the absolute faith he himself has in +it. He follows the methods of wily political speakers. These have a +way of piling proofs upon proofs in order to demonstrate the truth +of such points as are almost self-evident; and when they have thus +established among their audience a confidence in their logic, they +slur over the weak points, take for granted that everything is proved, +and draw a plausible conclusion devoid of any direct connection with +the arguments. A postmaster-general, for example, does not wish to be +bothered with the reduction of postage, and, in order to resist such +a proposal, he will deliver a lengthy harangue to show that the work +of the post-office is useful to the public, that it cannot be well +administered without sufficient revenue, the necessity of keeping a +complete staff, the impossibility of reducing wages and salaries, and +many other points which are perfectly clear without demonstration. +He will then suddenly conclude that the post-office works at present +with very small means, and that, if those means are further reduced, +disorganization and disorder may ensue. To be able to draw this +conclusion, he has to take for granted that the reduced postage would +mean reduced income to the post-office, while in reality it may mean +the very contrary. + +In the same way Nordau gives us pages upon pages in order to show us +such facts as psychological science has established, and then boldly +elicits supposed facts which science never has and may never be able +to prove. We have already given plenty of instances of this, and they +need not be referred to again. His careful minuteness in psychological +matters often induces the unwary reader to accept his unproved +statements purporting to represent facts drawn from other branches +of knowledge. Thus, for example, he speaks of matters pertaining to +sociology, economy, administration, and politics, as if he were a +universally acknowledged authority on these subjects. It will suffice, +however, to read his plan for arresting the spread of degeneration to +understand at once on what feeble foundations his apparent omniscience +rests. His idea of an ideal social order is an impossible amalgamation +of socialistic as well as communistic fallacies. While he retains +the absurd postulate of the Socialists, that a perfect Government +could be established, distributing all the wealth of the nation among +individuals, he indulges heedlessly in the communistic delusion that +those who accumulate under the present system would continue to +accumulate wealth at the same rate when the Government confiscates all +fortunes left by deceased individuals. He does not see that people +under such a system would take very good care to dispose of their +property before they die, a course which even the German police could +not prevent. + +He does not insist on these errors, but they come out distinctly +as indispensable links in the association of ideas, underlying his +views regarding the anti-semitist movement, the dangers of individual +liberty, the bestial propensities of the masses, and the necessity +of a Government composed of strong-minded scientific men. It is +only too easy to see that in all his suggestions of working out the +terrestrial paradise of humanity,—which one day, according to him, +will be the outcome of science,—he is guided entirely by prejudice +and feeling. In summing up what he has said on this subject, his +ideal social order presents itself to our minds as unfree, completely +subjected but well-cared-for masses benevolently governed by senates of +strong-minded, scientifically educated men—the Jews. + +The gloom and unrest called forth by Nordau’s work in nervous minds no +doubt gain in strength from the apparently powerful personality behind +it. But it suffices, as we have shown, to divest this imposing giant +of his assumed power in order to escape from his influence. Nordau, +had he not done so before, reveals himself unmistakably in the very +last sentence of his book as one largely beset by human frailties +when, in self-glorification, he quotes the words of him whose work he +so strenuously attempts to undermine and oppose. In order to assure +his readers that his object, as a scientist, is to benefit humanity, +to lead it farther on the road on which religion, so much contemned +by him, has already taken it some distance, he quotes Christ’s words: +“Think not that I have come to destroy the law or the prophets; I have +not come to destroy, but to fulfil.” + +We here refrain from the temptation to write half a dozen pages in +order to show, in Nordau’s own manner, how, by quoting from the +Scriptures, by appealing to faith and emotion, by comparing himself +to Christ, he is symbolic with Paul Verlaine, he is mystical with the +neo-Catholics, he is emotional with Rossetti, he is an egomaniac with +the Diabolists, and a megalomaniac with Wagner. But we refrain, and +only say that he is human. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +_REGENERATION_ + + +If the manifold discussions which have raged around the question of +human progress have failed to establish a consensus of opinion, it +is largely due to the absence of any exact definition of the term +progress. There can be no doubt about our advance in science. The trite +references to the use we make of steam, of which the ancient sages knew +so little as to call it smoke, establishes this beyond the possibility +of denial. But, on the other hand, our advance in literature and art +has been crab-like; for it has been accomplished with our face turned +towards antiquity. To set up ideals out of the actualities of the past +involves the recognition that we, as a race, stand lower than we have +done before, or at least at one time we have slided backwards and not +yet retrieved the lost ground. + +The progress of humanity, with all its deviations and backslidings, +may appear as one decided march onwards, if we look upon our ideals, +plucked from the past, as so many pegs thrown out into the distant +future demarcating the ground to be occupied by the road of +civilization. The Greeks showed us, as in a flash, and within a limited +space, ideals of poetry and art, and since the time of the Renaissance +we have been striving to attain them. Christ has been the moral ideal +held up to us for well-nigh nineteen hundred years; but this we are so +far from having realized, as to be filled with doubt whether, in our +awkward groping, with our faces turned towards Calvary, we move in the +right direction. + +There are many circumstances which render it difficult to decide +whether we have progressed or not. How are we to determine which +represents the greater advance, the high degree of æsthetic +civilization in a small group of the human family, and all the +rest plunged in barbarian darkness; or a lower degree of æsthetic +civilization uniformly spread among all the peoples of the world? We +have, thus, to consider not only the degrees of progress, but the +nature—whether æsthetic or moral—and its extension, before we can +decide whether we have progressed or not. But this is not all. We must +agree, or at least have clearly determined in our minds, towards what +goal the progression is supposed to move. If it be to bring the whole +of humanity up to an ideal beauty, perfect health, and a maximum of +strength and agility, our civilization in our present stage certainly +tends in the other direction. If, on the other hand, the goal be the +conquest of Nature’s forces, we are certainly moving rapidly towards it. + +In face, then, of the complexity of the question, whether humanity is +progressing or not, the best method of replying to it rationally is +to take one feature of human development only, but one in which the +others are included, or on which they depend. To select for such a +test-feature the psychological conditions of civilized humanity, at +a certain period as manifested in literature and art, might at the +first glance appear as the most rational course, because with strong +and sound minds, with well-balanced psychological faculties, a nation +is most likely to shape its destiny in such a fashion as to secure +excellency in all the domains of its existence. + +But there are strong objections to this method of gauging human +progress. The fashionable writers and artists may not represent the +mass of their contemporaries, but may be the exponents of a temporary +mood in a small uninfluential clique. Features of literature and +art may, as we have already pointed out, convey the impression of +retrogression simply because they reflect the unrest and confusion +which prevail in the majority of minds at periods when new ideas and +new views, healthy in themselves, trample out the old ones. Art and +literature do not always reflect the ethics of a nation at a given +period. The nation may be intellectually strong and morally sound, but +political events, economic troubles, may momentarily goad it into +abnormal moods and drive it, by sheer necessity, into a course which, +under normal circumstances, it would shun. A despot with æsthetic +leanings, and his nobility, might be instrumental in causing art and +literature to blossom forth most vigorously, while the people at large +might be sunk in the deepest depths of demoralization and misery in +order to furnish the means for the maintenance of a brilliant court. +History and actualities afford ample confirmation of the fact that +art and literature may flourish while the people degenerate. When +the culture of Greece was at its zenith, a large proportion of the +people—the slaves—had fallen so low as actually to afford object +lessons to the young citizens, in order to deter them from the +horrors of vice and degradation. During the Renaissance in Italy the +courts were corrupt, and the Church had sunk to its deepest stage of +demoralization. While the “Roi Soleil” was developing literature and +art in the hothouse of his royal patronage, the immorality of the +nobles and the degradation of the people were unprecedented. + +Nor are there wanting examples of how a nation may be in a vigorous +state of progression without developing any remarkable features in art +and literature. Switzerland was for a long time the leading nation +in Europe in the matter of government, legislation, administration, +civic virtues, and education, but has never distinguished itself +æsthetically. During the period in which America was most progressive, +its people were too busy with practical affairs to give much attention +to the arts. If, therefore, we were to judge the progress of a nation +by its arts and literature, we might feel disposed to conclude that +these two blossoms of civilization sprout forth in the same ratio as +the people degenerate. But this would be absurd, for it would be to +give the palm of civilization to the Esquimaux, or to the pigmies in +the dark forests of Africa. The idea, therefore, of judging whether a +nation, or a race, is rising or degenerating by the state of its arts, +must be rejected as utterly misleading. + +The political and social institutions of a nation are surely the +features that best lend themselves to the test of the stage it has +attained in progressive development, or degeneration. If laws and +institutions are such as to give every inhabitant the best chances +of attaining to a high degree of civilization, of morality, and of +happiness, and such laws and institutions emanate from the people +themselves, and are not imposed by another nation and not by the freak +of a despot, that nation is in a progressive state. It is difficult +to imagine a country with good laws and good institutions without +corresponding healthy conditions in all the other features of its +existence. History offers no example of a community, or of a people, +that has given itself laws and institutions equally beneficial to all +the individuals, and yet exhibiting signs of decay in any domain of +its culture. It is true that in a free, healthy, progressive State, +especially a thoroughly democratic one, literature and art may not +attain that hectic florescence so often co-existent with bad laws and +bad institutions. But it has never been found that art and literature +in such healthy nations are in a degenerating state. + +It is true that different minds hold different opinions as to the +attributes of good laws and institutions. A man who believes that human +beings are essentially wicked and brutal would call a government good +only when it possessed power enough to keep the people in subjection; +while he who has discovered that the good qualities in human beings +spring from a natural instinct, and the bad ones from unfavourable +conditions and corrupt surroundings, would only call that form of +government good which afforded to each individual the greatest possible +liberty consistent with the same degree of liberty in others. But there +can be no hesitation as to what constitutes good government and good +institutions, if we appeal to the only authority capable of judging +with full knowledge of the case, namely, the individuals themselves. + +We often meet with people who look with distrust upon institutions +and systems of government based on liberty, but this does not affect +our assertion that the great mass of individuals would personally, +and for themselves, claim as much liberty as they could obtain. Those +who advocate authoritative administration and the subjection of the +people to a class, or an elected body, behold in such constitutions the +means not of reducing their own liberty, but of extending it beyond +legitimate boundaries, and at the expense of the liberty of others. + +It is hardly possible to imagine a nation that has given itself, and +is living under, a system of personal liberty, and is at the same +time degenerate. A degenerate man fears liberty, he prefers to lean +on others; he feels not ashamed to live on charity, and would abuse +his liberty in order to satisfy his base instincts. A sound-minded +and morally healthy man needs no compulsion to respect the right and +liberties of others. He trusts and respects others, because he trusts +and respects himself. He would assist no man in his attempts and +intrigues to injure others. He would, therefore, uphold his own, as +well as the liberty of others. + +Such bad results as Nordau fears from institutions based on liberty +can only arise out of oppression. We have shown how the anti-semitic +movement, which he erroneously regards as an outcome of too much +liberty, is the result of oppression exercised by the Jewish +capitalists and employers in virtue of bad legislation, and no one +will deny that the anarchistic tendencies spring from the same cause. +From these reasons we may fairly conclude that, if we wish to form an +opinion of the intellectual soundness and moral strength of a nation, +we cannot do better than examine to what an extent it has attained to +good institutions based on personal liberty. + +If civilized mankind is actually degenerating, we must find a tendency +among the people in the countries under examination to give themselves, +or to accept under compulsion, laws and institutions which rob them of +their personal liberty. + +In gauging the present epoch by this standard, we might first be +inclined to side with Nordau. Those great nations which may fairly +be looked upon as the leaders of civilization present spectacles of +political corruption and retrogression, which might well suggest +the idea that, instead of developing into a race intellectually and +morally strong enough to live free, they show a marked willingness to +place themselves under control of some kind—to abandon their divine +attributes and to assume those of domesticated animals. But a correct +opinion about so important a question cannot be formed on a superficial +glance. In no branch of knowledge are appearances so deceptive as +in sociology. Apparently the same effects are often produced by two +opposite causes, and under slightly different circumstances the same +cause may produce two opposite effects. Thus, a man may vote for a +measure because he is corrupt and selfish, and with the object of +benefiting himself at the expense of his fellow-men; while another +man may vote for the same measure because he does not happen to be +in possession of certain special knowledge which would enable him to +understand the nugatory character of his action. + +There are nations in Europe at this moment presenting such a mass +of anomalies as to render it extremely difficult to decide whether +they are bent on improving their laws and institutions, or on making +them worse. Much, for example, that has happened in Germany has been +pronounced as a decided forward movement. The German army has displayed +physical and mental qualities which bear witness to healthy development +rather than degeneration. The unification of the German States into +one Empire had for some time before the last war been the goal towards +which the nation aspired. When it was reached, patriotic Germans +expected it to be made the starting-point of a new departure for +further progress. But the very accomplishment of national unification +involved features which clearly pointed to retrogression. The mediæval +principle of conquest was revised. The future peace and good-will +among the nations was destroyed by the annexation of the two provinces +conquered from France. Standing armies for Germany became more than +ever necessary, and the nation was called upon to make enormous +sacrifices in order to ward off the consequences of retrogression in +foreign politics. The heaviest burdens were laid upon the working +class, and their struggle for existence became desperate. They have +shown many signs of discontent, and these have led to the consolidation +of repressive measures. Thus Germany now presents the spectacle of a +curious amalgam of mediæval and modern features. + +At the head of this great empire we find a young Emperor who, though +not a despot in the widest sense of the word, possesses, as an +indispensable feature of the system, sufficient power to plunge not +only the whole of Germany, but all Europe, into unspeakable misery. +The individuals of the nation sink into insignificance before him. +They plainly feel that their destiny is in his hands as much as that +of their ancestors was in the hands of their mediæval emperors. And +yet the people are highly civilized, well educated, and show, in their +different walks of life, intelligence, strength of character, moral +worth. + +Here, then, is a people which, judged collectively by our standard, +would stand at a low point of development, because their laws and +institutions are not based on personal liberty. If we consider +the direction in which they are moving, the verdict becomes as +unfavourable. The country is torn by two divergent tendencies, neither +of them aiming onwards. The one represented by the Emperor, the +official bodies, the plutocrats, and men who think as Nordau, who wish +to keep a keener watch on the destitute classes; the other represented +by the Socialists, who clamour for the destruction of the present +system, not for the purpose of securing personal liberty, but of +wresting what little is left of it from the people, and of establishing +complete State tyranny. + +If the standard we are applying be trustworthy, neither of the two +currents of development noticeable in Germany run in the direction +of a high degree of civilization. At the present moment it seems +difficult to discover whence, within Germany, could come the impulse +for such general mental and moral progress as would be manifested by +good and free institutions. If the present conditions could prevail +indefinitely, and gradually improve so as to safeguard, or at least not +impede, the development of the individuals, Germany might look forward +to the future with equanimity. + +But, unfortunately, actualities in that country confirm only too +well the trustworthiness of our standard. The result of the present +system cannot fail to exercise degenerating effects on the people, +but whether these effects will influence the present generation +only, or by heredity be perpetuated in the nervous systems and the +brains of the race, is a question for psychologists to settle. The +stupendous standing army, the heavy taxation, and a host of bad +laws have undermined, and are still undermining, the welfare of the +people. The immediate results are, among the working classes: extreme +penury, hopeless lives, low morals, intense hatred of the wealthy +class, a growing sympathy with the destructive programme of the +advanced Anarchists, decay of religious belief without any growth of +the religion of humanity of science. Among the commercial class, the +results are: intense competition, small profits, nervous application +to business, a thirst for gold and recklessness with regard to the +means of satisfying it. Among the bureaucratic classes the dread of +reduced and retarded advancement has caused discipline and absolute +submission to take the place of religion and philosophy. The landed +aristocracy, seeing their incomes threatened by the deplorable state of +agriculture, plot and plan how to recoup themselves at the expense of +the people, and have even shown an inclination to resist the Emperor +himself when their interests require it. This state of affairs is more +than sufficient to account for such signs of degeneration as Nordau +has noticed in his own country. What wonder that artists and writers, +menaced by misery and actuated by the general thirst for gold, should +consult their market rather than their inspiration, and that they +should copy successful authors and artists in France and elsewhere, +rather than take the trouble and the risk to do original work. A +comparison between German literature of to-day and that of decaying +Rome could not fail to impart important lessons. + +Everything in Germany points to a coming catastrophe. Even if we +consider only one of the directions from which the first alarm +may come—that is, the Finance Department—it seems impossible that +the system can last much longer. The heavy taxation unfortunately +undermines its own basis, namely, the ability of the people to pay, +and the much-strained credit of the State is likely to collapse at the +very moment it will be most needed. It is, therefore, not premature +to consider what will happen in that country at about the end of this +century, when the financial resources, the patience of the people, and +the confidence of the army may be exhausted. + +Two alternatives are possible. The crisis which seems bound to come +may be a violent one, arising from below; or it may be a peaceful +one, taking its origin from above. In the one case, there will be +a momentary social chaos; for all the military and bureaucratic +institutions, all systems, theories, prejudices, will be cast into the +furnace. At what time and under what conditions Germany will emerge +from the crisis will depend on the number, and the strength of mind, of +those Germans who understand that good institutions based on liberty +are the cardinal attributes of a sound-minded and morally strong nation. + +The other case—the crisis coming from above—does not seem possible just +now, because the Emperor himself would have to take the initiative. It +is not likely that he would give up his power, his military tastes and +pastimes, in order to render Germany a free and happy nation, living in +peace with other free nations. For a sovereign to conceive such an idea +would be almost supernatural, and to carry it out successfully would +require the highest degree of human intelligence, because it could not +be done except in harmony and in co-operation with the other European +States. + +From whatever direction the crisis comes, there is much in the +Germans to warrant a final successful issue. We cannot believe, with +Nordau, that such signs as we see of degeneration spring from moral +and intellectual weakness. In the external circumstances, we find +sufficient cause for far more demoralization than actually exists; +and the Germans, taken as individuals, show themselves to possess +plenty of those mental and moral qualities which are the only possible +foundations of a healthy State. They bear witness to the fact that, +despite unfavourable outward circumstances, the race is not decaying; +and that the present corruption and demoralization may be decay only of +one stage of human development, from which in obedience to some strong +impulse a new regenerating era may arise. + +In order to elucidate the apparent state of degeneration which +characterises civilization at the close of this most remarkable +century, as well as its causes, we have instanced Germany—the +country where Nordau has studied and written, and where he seems +to have received his most vivid impressions. The circumstances +and tendencies of other countries, especially in those governed +more or less on despotic principles, are akin to those in Germany. +Everywhere increasing penury, discontent among the destitute classes, +a rapidly growing power among the plutocrats, national indebtedness, +financial corruption, the decay of all religious belief, and general +demoralization. But the similarity does not end here. In every country +there are numbers of people striving and hoping to bring about a better +state of things, even at the cost and sacrifice of some of the leading +features of our civilization. There is a mass of evidence, including +those peculiar features of modern society on which Nordau has dwelt so +largely, showing that a deep unrest has taken hold of humanity. The +feeling is not only that we are in a wrong position, but that we are +moving in a wrong direction. The general fear is not that degeneration +has set in, but that, moving on the road that we do, we cannot escape +it. + +The most striking characteristic of our time is that in no nation do +we find, on either side of the Atlantic, any distinct indication of +the road which can lead us past the Slough of Despond. The moral state +of the civilized world is like a nation preparing for revolt against +a tyrant: gloomy, discontented, and excited men are encouraging one +another with secret signs and passwords, mustering and drilling in +secret places, to be ready for action, but without any trustworthy +leaders, without any plans for the future, without even any tactics +for the first struggle. In some countries the cry is for leaders; but +the old faith that the situations will bring out the men seems to have +been utterly falsified: for everywhere mediocrity, prejudice, and +corruption hold the helm. The cry in England and other countries is not +for leaders, but for more light. We want a higher philosophy, nobler +arts, a loftier literature, sounder principles of legislation, a purer +religion. + +No nation holds a higher responsibility than the English. Its vast +possessions all over the globe, its financial and commercial supremacy, +its ethical influence over all the English-speaking countries, mark +it out as the standard-bearer of civilization. Nothing great can +happen among us without re-echoing in the remotest corners of the +earth, and any step onward taken by us will send a thrill throughout +humanity. Degenerate Englishmen may still wish to meekly follow other +nations, but our mission is to be the practical, energetic, daring +pioneers heading the march of progress. By using its great power and +influence, the British nation can render invaluable service to humanity +in the present crisis. On England must therefore rest our hopes for +the practical solution of the grave questions on which progress and +retrogression depend. From England alone can proceed that electrifying +impulse of which the bewildered nations stand in need, that they may +marshal the forces and focus the goal of progress. + +In our political circles, in the ranks of literature, and throughout +all the strata of society there are already unmistakable signs that the +period of scepticism, selfishness, and rant will end with the century; +that scientific superstition and sickly Collectivist chimeras are +doomed; and that the nation is sternly entering upon the mission of +leading humanity towards good laws and institutions based on liberty, +and thus inaugurating a universal movement which by its glorious +results shall demonstrate that the alarming symptoms of degeneration, +revealed by the psychologists, are the first symptoms of regeneration. + + + + +INDEX. + + + About’s (Edmond), _La Question Romaine_, 250 + + Anarchism, rapid spread of, 194; + causes of, 195-7 + + Andersen, Hans, 58 + + Andersen’s _Ugly Duckling_, 74 + + Angelo, Michael, 224 + + Anstey, F., 141 + + Anti-semitism in Germany and elsewhere, 185 _ff._ + + Armies, English, French, and German, no degeneracy is proved by + recent events, 134 + + Art, 56 _ff._; + does not necessarily reflect the ethics of a nation, 292 + + Artists and symbolism, 73 _ff._ + + Arts, the, and science, future harmony of, 228, 229 + + Association of Men for the Suppression of Immorality, 246 _ff._ + + Atheism, effect of, upon morals, 85, 90 _ff._; + upon religion, 86 _ff._ + + Auricular confession, 162-4 + + Austria, causes of anti-semitism in, 187 _ff._ + + Avinain, French assassin, 164 + + + Baudelaire, Charles, 231, 237 + + Beethoven, Ludwig, 106 + + Bismarck, Prince, 137 + + Björnsen, Björnstjerne, 170, 177 + + Borgia, Pope (Alexander VI), 265 + + Bornmüller, Franz, 116; + his estimate of Tolstoi, 116 + + Brahe, Tycho, 66 + + Bremer, Frederika, 142 + + Bronté’s _Jane Eyre_, 146 + + + Cavour, di, Count Camillo Benso, 137 + + Cervantes, Miguel, 152 + + Chitral, British expedition to, 134 + + Church and religion, the, distinction between, 77 _ff._ + + Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 219 + + Columbus, Christopher, 66 + + Communism, absurdity and impracticability of, 190 + + Confession of wrong-doing, the yearning for, 162-5 + + Consciousness of man, 204 + + Correggio, Allegri, 127 + + Cotta, Johann Friedrich, 277 + + + Dante’s _Divina Commedia_, 224 + + Darwinian theory of evolution, 159 + + Degeneration, the causes of, 255 _ff._ + + Dishonesty as a means of acquiring wealth, 267-9 + + Drummond, Henry, 8, 12 + + Drunkenness in England, 136, 137 + + + Egoism, 260 _ff._ + + Egomania, 230 + + England, degeneracy in, 136, 137; + estimation of women in, 142, 217-9; + æsthetic revolt in, 237; + high moral responsibility of, 305, 306 + + English army, no degeneracy in, 134 + + Ethical Culture, Berlin Society for, 247, 248 + + Eroticism, 205 _ff._ + + + Faraday, Michael, 54 + + France, marriage in, 90, 91; + æsthetic revolt in, 234 _ff._ + + Free Labour Association, the, 31 + + French army, no degeneracy in, 134 + + French hatred of Germany, 24, 25 + + French symbolists, the, 76 _ff._, 94 + + + Galileo, 66 + + Gautier, Théophile, 231 + + Germans, submission of, to discipline, 15 _ff._; + their treatment of women, 18-19; + ideas concerning marriage, 19; + hatred of France, 24, 25 + + Germany, marriage in, 18, 19; + army system in, 138; + position of women in, 142 _ff._; + influence of, upon Norway, 173 _ff._; + causes of anti-semitism in, 187 _ff._; + the development of the empire, 298; + burdens upon the working people in, 298, 299; + despotic rule of the Emperor, 299; + bad effect of present system of government, 300-2; + the coming catastrophe, 301-3 + + Gladstone, William Ewart, 137 + + Goethe, Johann Wolfgang, 56, 152, 224 + + Goethe’s _Werther’s Leiden_, 104; + _Faust_, 157, 216 + + Gounod, Charles François, 226 + + + Hanseatic League, the, 173 + + Heller, Ferdinand, 222, 223 + + Heredity, 159, 160 + + Hugo’s _Notre Dame de Paris_, 59 + + Human instincts, 270-2 + + Humanity, the religion of, 232 + + Hunt, Holman, 64, 68 + + Huxley, Professor Thomas Henry, 54 + + Huysman, Joris Karl, 236 + + Huysman’s _A Rebours_, 273 + + + Ibsen, Henrik, 132 _ff._, 140 _ff._, 177, 258; + influence of, upon women, 142 + + Ibsen’s _Ghosts_, 154, 155, 158; + _Pillars of Society_, 155, 156; + _The Lady from the Sea_, 157; + _The Doll’s House_, 74, 179-81 + + Immorality, Association of Men for the Suppression of, 146 _ff._ + + Immoral literature, impossibility of prohibiting the circulation of, + 249-51 + + Instinct in human beings, 270-2 + + Italian army, no degeneracy in, 134 + + + Jew, the free-thinking, characteristics of, 20, 21 + + Jews, the, Wagner’s dislike of, 184; + hatred of, in Russia, 185; + in Germany and Austria, 187 _ff._; + inherent good qualities of, 191, 192 + + Jones, Burne, 68, 127, 130, 258 + + + Kant, Immanuel, 3 + + Kidd, Benjamin, 8, 12 + + Kock, de, Charles Paul, 277 + + + Legrain, 46, 47 + + Lemerre, Alphonse, 277 + + Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 105 + + Lessing’s _Amelia Galotti_, 105 + + _Liberty_ (periodical), 32 + + Liebknecht, Herr, 16, 139 + + Lie, Jonas, 170, 177 + + Literature does not necessarily reflect the ethics of a nation, 292 + + Lombroso, Dr. Cesare, 21; + Nordau’s dedication to, in _Degeneration_, 132 + + Love, the purity of, 213, 214 + + Loyola, Ignatius, 265 + + Lutheran Church and confession, the, 163 + + + Marriage laws, how inaugurated, 150 + + Marriage relations in Germany, 18-19; + in France, 90, 91 + + Mallarmé, Stephane, 104 _ff._ + + Martineau, Dr. James, 54 + + Maudsley, Dr. Henry, 251 + + Millais, John E., 63, 64 + + Molière’s _Malade Imaginaire_, 12 + + Moltke, Count Helmuth Karl Bernard, 7 + + Morel, Dr. B. A., 48 + + Morice, Charles, author of _La Littérature de tout à l’heure_, 106 + + Music, the influence of, 60, 61, 220 _ff._ + + Mysticism, 44 _ff._; + definition of, 47 + + + Napoleon III, 138 + + Neo-Catholicism and the Church of Rome, 76 + + Nicholas II, Emperor of Russia, 138 + + Nietzsche, Friedrich, 201, 223, 243 + + Nietzsche’s _Der Fall Wagner_, 223 + + Nihilists, Russian, 197 + + Nordau, Max, influence of his book _Degeneration_, 9; + importance of closely investigating his theories before accepting + them, 10; + intemperance of his methods, 11; + a typical German, 12; + his German bias, 17; + an enemy to France, 24; + his attitude toward art, 56 _ff._; + his animosity against the symbolists, 77 _ff._; + views upon the poetry of Paul Verlaine, 99 _ff._; + denunciation of Tolstoi, 108 _ff._; + estimate of Ibsen, 132-82; + attack upon Wagner, 183; + judgment of Zola, 274 _ff._ + + Norway, position of women in, 145 _ff._ + + Norwegians, national characteristics of, 171 _ff._ + + + Ohnet’s (George) novels, 28 + + + Poets and symbolism, 73 _ff._ + + Pre-Raphaelitism, 55 _ff._ + + + Raphael, Sanzio, 75, 127 + + Religion, influence of, upon civilization and progress, 49, 50; + and the Church, distinction between, 77 _ff._; + relation of, to science, 232 _ff._ + + Rollinat, Maurice, 231 + + Roman Church and neo-Catholicism, 76 + + Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 127, 130, 135, 258 + + Rossetti’s masterpiece, “Dante’s Dream,” 69, 70, 75 + + Rubinstein, Anton, 223 + + Ruskin, John, 58, 59 + + Russia, causes of anti-semitism in, 185-7 + + Russian, characteristics, 109; + government, 110; + serfs, 110, 111; + nihilists, 197 + + + Scandinavia, position of women in, 145 _ff._ + + Science, the unsolved problems of, 22, 23; + the bankruptcy of, 73 _ff._; + and the arts, future harmony of, 228, 228 [sic]; + relation of, to religion, 232 _ff._ + + Scientific atheism, 90 _ff._ + + Scientists, dogmatic attitude of, 65 _ff._; + influence of, upon religion, 86 _ff._ + + Schopenhauer, Arthur, 225, 226 + + Schumann, Robert, 222, 223 + + Self, the religion of, 230-40 + + Serfs, emancipation of, in Russia, 110, 111 + + Shakespeare, William, 56, 152 + + Society for Ethical Culture (Berlin), 247, 248 + + Sound mind, the test of, 133 + + Stage, the, purity of, 211 + + Stöcker, Dr., anti-semitic agitator, reception of, in London, 193, + 194, 265 + + Swinburne, Algernon C., 135 + + Symbolists, the French, 76 _ff._ + + + Tintoretto, Giacomo, 127 + + Tjerulf, Norwegian composer, 177 + + Tolstoi, Count Leo, 108 _ff._ + + Tolstoi’s _Kreutzer Sonata_, 115, 116; + _My Confession_, 117; + _My Faith_, 117; + _A Short Exposition of the Gospel_, 117, 126; + _About my Life_, 117; + _From the Diary of Nechljudow_, 125 + + Trades unions, 31 + + + United States, the, treatment of women in, 142 + + + Verlaine, Paul, 97 _ff._; + his poem addressed to Louis II of Bavaria, 101; + his “Chevaux du Bois” and “Chanson d’Automne,” 103, 104 + + Victoria, Dowager Empress of Germany, 146 + + Voltaire, Arouet, 1, 9, 223, 254 + + + Wagner, Richard, 28, 29, 151, 184 _ff._, 194, 198 _ff._ + + Wagner’s _Art Work of the Future_, 209, 224 + + Wealth, dishonesty in the acquisition of, 267-9 + + William II, Emperor of Germany, 138, 299 + + Wolseley, Lord, 7 + + Women, position of, in the United States, England, and other + countries contrasted, 142 _ff._ + + + Zola, Émile, 29, 130, 274 _ff._ + + Zola’s _La Joie de Vivre_, 281 + + + + + Transcriber's notes: + + This book was published anonymously and is now attributed to + Alfred Egmont Hake. + + One "[sic]" has been placed in the index, and a presumed missing comma + in the original is indicated with "[,]". + + The book contains a single footnote, which is placed below the relevant + paragraph. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76803 *** |