their minds and charm
their labours. At five o'clock, dinner was announced by the sound of a
horn. Then these philosophic workpeople piled up their tools, arranged
their wheel-barrows symmetrically, and took their place, after having
first sung 'the prayer before repast.'"

In this retreat they adopted a distinctive dress, of which one portion,
the waistcoat, was symbolical; it was so made that it could not be put
on without the help of a brother--and thus was calculated perpetually to
call to mind the necessity of mutual aid. On the day of the institution
of this habit, Enfantin declared that he and his followers had renounced
all rights to property according to the existing law, and had duly
qualified themselves to receive "the honourable wages" of labour.

But this fantastical experiment was cut short by the interference of the
law. A public prosecution was instituted against the St Simonians; and
Pere Enfantin, and other chiefs of the sect, were brought before the
tribunal at Paris. It will be easily understood that the court that day
was crowded with spectators, eager to see the St Simonians, especially
Enfantin, who appeared in a violet-coloured robe, with the words LE PERE
written in large letters on his breast. When asked by the president,
whether he did not style himself the Father of Humanity--whether he did
not profess to be the Living Law--he answered, "Yes!" with perfect
calmness and assurance. The discourse he delivered in his own defence
was chiefly remarkable for the long pauses he made from time to time,
occupying himself with looking steadfastly at the president, or the
advocate-general. He said he wished to make them feel "the power of the
flesh." But this species of animal magnetism appears to have had no
other effect than that of irritating the court. He and some others were
condemned to pay a fine, and suffer a year's imprisonment. The family
was dispersed. For the present there was an end to St Simonism.

A history is hardly complete without a plague, or pestilence, or famine,
or some such wide-spreading calamity, on which the historian can spend
the dark colours of his descriptive eloquence. Considering that M. Louis
Blanc had but the space of ten years under him, he must have regarded
himself as very fortunate in meeting with the cholera, which figures
here as a very respectable pestilence. The carrying forth the dead,
naked and uncoffined, in open carts, is an image often presented to us
in d