its guiding motive. It was a show primarily of the world's products. Little was given to beauty for itself, and the feeling of unity was altogether lacking. The architecture was neither beautiful in itself nor I did it subserve function. At the World's Fair at Chicago the exhibition was held somewhat in abeyance, the construction having more the intention of a spectacle. There was still wanting the principle of function and the conception of a true unity. The first violation of function and the fundamental error, socially speaking, was the choice of the classic style for the architecture. "World's Fair" conveys to the mind the idea of a holiday. An excursion to a World's Exposition represents a lyric moment thrust in between the incidents of business and worldly cares. The time is a play spell-one is in the holiday mood, not seeking to be edified alone, or alone to be moved by a spectacle of beauty, but to be free and festive even. Grecian architecture, perfect for Grecian use, is almost meaningless when set down on a level plain by a lake side-altogether meaningless when forming an arena for a democratic people on holiday. Between the rigid and severe simplicity of the classic styles and the essential sentiment of a "Fair" there is no possible reconciliation. The "White City" made a beautiful "show," and as a show it was enjoyed and highly commended. But it stopped far short of unity, since it was not built with primary reference to the people. Instead it was built timidly and negatively, in actual distrust of the people. The fair would have been as beautiful if there had been no one to behold it. It derived nothing of its meaning from the people

present, and the people saw nothing of themselves reflected in the Fair. The third of our great expositions, the Pan-American at Buffalo, showed a striking advance upon all previous conceptions and approximated a perfect social art. Its primary purpose was sociological-the purpose, that is, of creating a festal scene appropriate to a people on holiday. Based on this elemental fact of function, the exposition carried out the same principle throughout its entire structural scheme. To indicate the nature of the particular enterprise a Spanish Renaissance style was adopted for the architecture-a style which lends itself admirably to festivity and admits a lavish use of color and ornamentation. Architecturally the exposition converged toward the electric tower, which, with its suggestion of Niagara, was naturally the focus of all paths. The principle of socialization was perhaps most apparent in the coloring. For the coloring was not independent, but, so to speak, sociological. The color scheme, extending from south to north, typified the advance of civilization from barbarism to culture, as the milder tints of the central buildings pointed to the intellectualization of mankind. There were two exceptions to this order. The electric fountain, having come to the dignity of a "fine art" (that is, an independent art), could not be socialized and was therefore banished to an island by itself-an "art for art's sake." The other exception was strangely the government building of the "United States." For some reason the government could not be socialized, and hence this building stood as an excellent illustration of the fact that our present gov

ernmental forms pertain to a conception of the people older than the one implied by the exposition itself. The sculpture, of which there were some five hundred pieces, also formed an integral part of the plan. The sculpture, like the color, told the story of civilization. There were three series, each conveying a distinct historic progression; the story of Man, the story of Nature, and the story of Industry. Besides these main histories the group at the tower revealed the history of the subjugation of Niagara, which is indeed the most splendid story of human achievement. Each building had its own appropriate symbols in addition to those which served the general plan. For the first time American sculpture displayed an original genius, "finding itself" in social service. In such a manner the Fair effected a complete unity of the arts, in the way, it will be observed, of the Wagnerian drama. And this unity extended so as to include the people, since the entire spectacle took meaning from the people, and the people recognized their own history at every turn. "Art for art's sake" had at length given way to "art for life's sake."

Here then the whole issue lies. In the interest of a Commonweal are we willing to give up specialization and cultivate instead the social spirit? Instead of trying to be something by ourselves, may we not trust, as Emerson advised, the cosmic forces? Is there not a Social Intelligence in the world of men as active and efficient as the Spirit of the Hive, according to which, as Maeterlinck, shows, the bees conduct their small but marvellously complicated economies? Will criticism face the artistic problem involved in the substitu

tion of social for individual standards? In ethics and in some other departments of thought the transition has already taken place, but criticism remains on the individualistic ground. Of course many of the old ideas and principles of criticism will suffer change or loss. Most of all we shall need to revise the metaphysical and æsthetic theories of art. Socially speaking it is not necessary that art be beautiful; it is not necessary that it be of good report-unless it should happen that beauty and perfection are social necessities. We need not deny beauty its place, or goodness its function, but there is a larger fact than either abstraction; namely, the actual needs of human life, energized and driven by forces larger than itself, forces which which compel compel expression characterized at times by neither beauty of phrase or rightness of motive, but yet revelatory of spiritual experiences and cosmic impulses. "I harbor," said Whitman, in the spirit of the new time, "for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard Nature without check, with original energy." In this one direction America can move with originality and power: and all other ways are closed.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE BETTERMENT

MOVEMENT.

In the world in which we live there is little evidence of the conscious possession by any group of men and women of the full community sense. Business is competitive and individualistic, and conducted to the end of private profit. It is true, a modification in the industrial system was made when the legal fictions of the firm, the corporation, the trust, and other forms of combination, were devised. But in truth these corporations socialize their business only within the limits of the group, their motive still remaining selfish and egotistic. Now and then, in times of want and special crisis, as during the recent coal famine, the terrible unrelieved selfishness of the business world stands revealed in all its ugliness. Every man's hand seems raised against every other, or, where combinations have been formed, the different groups seize every opportunity to prey upon the public at large. Ruskin's plea for the socialization of business has apparently not found lodgment in any mind. No one has conceived how an advantageous code of business conduct can be based upon the social affections.

The union which has been effected in the labor world is in like manner superficial and partial. There is, of course, a growing class consciousness, and it