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