In the matter of the supply of funds for the relief of distress caused by the war, Labour, according to its means, is giving generously; and in the dispensation of relief, Trade Union members and officials (and notably the women) are ceaselessly busy. It is right that this should be so; and the more the aid and counsel of these men and women are invoked, the better. None know better the needs and the deserts of those in distress than their own fellows; and the industry, integrity and organising power of Trade Union officials are unquestionable. Hitherto remarkably little use has been made of the assistance which these officials alone can give, both on central and local committees; and the work is being done, in the main, by persons who in these matters are amateurs. As the war goes on, the amount of distress, and consequently of relief work, will inevitably increase; and it is, in our opinion, indispensable that on every Relief Committee, wherever possible, there should be one or more Labour men and women.

There is the more need just now that the loyal attitude of Labour in the hour of supreme national danger should be generally recognised, because, more especially of late, the acts and utterances of certain prominent Labour men, and of certain active and accomplished sympathisers with what is broadly termed the Labour Movement, have tended to foster in the popular mind the anticipation that, in a time of national emergency, Labour in the mass would not stand where it stands now-solidly with the Government and the Nation. But we must observe that the active speakers who have caught the ear of the public have recently been shown to be far from representing the masses. They are not the true leaders of organised Labour. This is not the time for any outsider, or even for the expert, to examine in detail the essential divergences in regard to national policy between the Socialist and anti-militarist Labour wing, and the purely industrial Trade Union section. Such divergences are primarily the business of Labour; and no doubt, in the fulness of time, their causes and con sequences will be authoritatively cleared up. Still, the existence of a schism within the ranks of Labour is public property; and attention may fairly be drawn to it here. Mr J. Ramsay MacDonald, M.P., speaking in

Parliament on Aug. 3, condemned in no vague terms the diplomacy of Sir Edward Grey, and raised his voice in favour of neutrality. Immediately afterwards Mr MacDonald resigned the parliamentary leadership of the Labour Party. Why, precisely, he resigned, is the affair of the Labour men, to be made public if and when they choose; for the time they are, wisely and patriotically, keeping the story of this resignation to themselves. But, in the light of what Labour has done and is doing for the national cause, it is impossible not to connect the speech with the resignation.

We stand to-day an united people, of one heart and purpose in a tremendous national emergency, resolved to fight and endure until decisive victory is with us and our Allies. Not least among the fruits of that victory will be the clearer understanding of one another amongst all sections and peoples of the Nation and the Empirean understanding born of a common loyalty and steadfastness in the hour of trial. When victory is ours and peace is with us again, we shall, no doubt, as becomes a sound and lusty people, take up our traditional domestic quarrels where we left them. But, because of this new sympathy and clearer understanding, it may be hoped that we shall not quarrel with the old-time bitterness and obstinacy. Labour and Capital will have worked and fought and suffered together for the common cause; and if, by and by, they fall out again-as no doubt they will-there will surely be less malignity in their contests. Even the enemies of Trade Unionism-if there be any left among us now-may find a happy portent in the fact, that in the outburst of loyalty in the House of Commons at the close of the Session, it was Mr Will Crooks-unorthodox, best-beloved of Labour men-who gave the lead which every Member followed, and sang with heart and voice, God save the King.'

Art. 10.-ART HISTORY AND CRITICISM.

1. A History of Painting in Italy, Umbria, Florence and Siena. By J. A. Crowe and G. B. Cavalcaselle. New Edition. Vols I-IV edited by Langton Douglas ; V-VI, edited by Tancred Borenius. London: Murray, 1903-1914.

2. History of Painting in North Italy. By J. A. Crowe and G. B. Cavalcaselle. New Edition. By Tancred Borenius. London: Murray, 1912.

As regards their comprehension by and consequent service to the public mind, æsthetics stand somewhere between science and philosophy. The public mind realises the meaning and utility of science because it practically benefits by sanitation and labour-saving appliances; philosophy, on the other hand, it regards at best as a harmless if superfluous pursuit for academic intellects, a needless if ingenious darkening of counsel that has no practical bearing on life at large. Art, however, though but vaguely understood and secretly regarded as something mysterious, is felt to come within everyone's range. The common attitude-'Of course I know nothing about Art, but I know what pictures I like,' fairly expresses the prevalent comprehension of æsthetics. They are certainly mysterious and 'difficult'; lay amateurs always find that the pictures they like distress the expert and fastidious senses of true connoisseurs. They are obviously unaccountable because the pictures worshipped by true cognoscenti strike the layman as queer or downright ugly. And then the notorious disagreements of those best qualified to know aggravate this sense of mystery. With science one is reasonably sure where one stands; no one disputes as to whether electricity is a force or mistakes oxygen for carbonic acid gas. Even the most expert scientists can generally agree as to the identity or presence or activity of what they have before them. But with the best connoisseurs it is different; they may be depended on to differ as to whether 'The piping Shepherd' is by Giorgione or a mediocre imitator; whether the Fête Champêtre' is a master's creation or a scholar's plagiarism, whether a picture is a masterpiece or the reverse.

There is something incalculable in Art. By its very

nature, Art in its highest manifestation is bound to remain mysterious to the many until that time when popular taste and perception are sensitive and profound. But, on the other hand, much of the difficulty felt by ordinary people in this context has been deposited by art-criticism. Possibly the time will soon be ripe for a criticism devoted to the things that ultimately matter, to the true core of the whole question rather than to incidental problems. There are indeed signs that the larger issues of Art are succeeding to the residue of critical interest left over by art-history and 'morphological' analysis. But, before we disdain art-historians, the school of Morelli and the great tribe of detective experts who during the last fifty years have brought a remarkable equipment of patience and acuteness to bear on relatively trivial points, we must be fair. Though we may admit that these critics have sometimes lost their sense of proportion, becoming engrossed in the game of attributions for its own sake, yet we must honestly answer this question-had it not become imperative, about halfway through last century, that the general ignorance, wildness and chaos as regards Italian art should be grappled with and brought to order? Weighing this question with reference to the dark confusion that then prevailed and the comparative clearness of today, we must recognise that, on the whole and in spite of excesses, the documentary and morphological school of students was not only justified but indispensable.

Probably everyone has heard the theory that artcriticism is a product of deteriorated conditions, that were all healthy in the world of art there would be no place for the middleman critic. Such a theory postulates that popular taste and perception are naturally so profound and sensitive as unfailingly to respond to the appeal of artistic genius. However soothing and flattering we might find implicit faith in this premise, we cannot look experience squarely in the face and say that it justifies such confidence: For we see that artistic perspicacity can never have been duller and more confused than at the beginning of the 19th century. And the general apprehension of pictures at that date was the unforced and unimpeded result of popular taste and perception left to themselves, practically undisturbed Vol. 221.-No. 441.

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by criticism, for two centuries. We need take no pharisaical comfort from this, congratulating ourselves that we at least are in a better state. Without the industry and acumen of experts to keep our standards from falling too flagrantly, we should already be helplessly muddled over painters as modern as Crome and Cotman, Constable and Turner. Indeed who will guarantee that every picture in the National Gallery labelled Constable and Crome is above suspicion? Or supposing that, owing to some solemn pact or natural scourge that wiped out every authority on art, the work of inspecting our artistic weights and measures and keeping our standards somewhere near the mark were discontinued, would not posterity after a hundred years inherit a confusion and ignorance as dense as that prevailing early in the 19th century?

Idealists might argue that genius is so conspicuous as to make confusion impossible; that Leonardo and Michelangelo are so supremely above and distinct from their following as to be for ever recognisable. But, though this argument presumably applies to well-marked phenomena in natural history for example, it is invali dated by our experience of æsthetics. Public taste seems incapable of discriminating between sublimity and mediocrity; it sees no essential difference in Leonardo and Luini; to it Michelangelo and the Sebastiano del Piombo of the National Gallery 'Raising of Lazarus' are indistinguishable. On reflection we understand that this blindness is logical and inevitable. For, as at night all cats are grey, so to minds yet unconscious of the quality of genius all Milanese pictures are Leonardo, all Roman Michelangelo. But, when it has become possible for criticism to cease from anxiety concerning almost imperceptible distinctions between Amico di Pedrini and Alunno d'Oggiono, or finally to settle the identity of Pseudo-Basaiti, then something may be done to make it easier for lay people to acquire a standard, and by recognising its nature to partake of the enriching emotions and deeper understanding that great art communicates.

There are signs that criticism, working from a safer base than that occupied by earlier writers, is tending towards a more useful purpose. This safer base was established by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, whose really