experience. Disastrous errors were indeed committed, and it is not to be denied that the mismanagement of many railway boards was stained by something worse than miscalculation, by reckless and scandalous abuse of trust, which admits of no palliation. But seeing the wholesome and general indignation which that misconduct excited, and seeing too the vigorous and effectual efforts made in so many cases to retrieve that disorder, it must also be acknowledged that here again there has been a discipline, however dearly bought, which will yield valuable results hereafter.

Moral Aids to Co-operation.

The working classes, who now show so much eagerness in all the great towns to make new trials of the same prolific principle which in the hands of the middle class has wrought such wonders, ought to have not only legal facilities, but such friendly encouragement as those who are interested in their improvement may be able to afford them. There is great shallowness of mind in that economical purism which condemns as illegitimate all help or patronage which is not obtained on the hardest terms of the market. If a promising enterprise can be helped through a feeble infancy by generous sympathy, until it acquires strength to stand alone, it is not an evil, but a double good, for the mere economical triumph is then instrumental in creating those moral bonds by which classes are most firmly linked together. All that is important in such cases is, to see that the stamina are sound, and that the nursing need be only temporary; but this is necessary, for unless the elements of strength and future self-support exist, all bolstering by friendly loans and patronage is cruelty under the disguise of charity.

Neither have we any right to exclude the influence of generous motives amongst the members of the working classes themselves. It is true that schemes which depend for success on the daily and hourly operation of a higher range of motives

than those which are found to govern men, will be swept away by the first wave which reaches a foundation so sandy; but it is not true that great temporary sacrifices may not be made, and successfully made, for the establishment of a favourite scheme, and wherever the disposition to do this exists, it deserves not repression, but admiration. Amongst the cooperative societies of Paris there were striking instances of this. One which was composed of cabinet-makers, went on working for weeks, scarcely able to obtain a customer-seeing their little capital gradually sinking,—yet with patient zeal and care still finishing piece after piece of their beautiful workmanship— and, nobler still, sharing such means as they had, so as to sustain all by the same equal slender allowance, until, having endured almost to the point of starvation, their heroic devotion was crowned at last by the appreciation of the public with complete success'. Who can contemplate a case of that sort without feeling that the personal qualities evinced in it are of infinitely more worth than keenness in driving bargains, or the caution which believes all men to be uniformly selfish? There is no class of the English population which contains finer elements of character than that of artizans or skilled labourers. The upper and middle classes know them chiefly from what takes place in strikes, and misjudge them accordingly. Combinations and strikes are the result of their deep conviction that the interests of capital are in irreconcilable opposition to those of labour, and that in the present industrial arrangements of society they get less than justice. Place them in a position in which truer views of reality will give their impulses fair play, and it may come to pass that they will teach us all unexpected moral lessons.

The account is in one of the earlier numbers of the Christian Socialist. I am not sure that the success of this deeply interesting enterprise has not been endangered or destroyed under the present Government of France, from the suspicion that the co-operative bodies were politically dangerous.

England at the Beginning of 1852.

Ar the beginning of the present year, 1852, England underwent a humiliation, such as is without precedent in her history; and such as one must pray may not happen to her again. It consisted in this, that when, in a neighbouring country, an act took place which, according to the plain judgment of the English mind, was a violation of the most sacred laws, human and divine, eminent English citizens became suddenly afraid to utter those convictions openly in the face of foreign nations, and that when happily others were found more faithful to the old traditions of freedom, their courageous demeanour was denounced as mischievous, and their mouths, if it had been possible, would have been gagged in order to stop at any cost such imprudent frankness. Every one has heard stories of the alarm felt, both before and after the commencement of the present century, at the idea of a French invasion, and in a country where no shot had been fired in earnest for nearly three generations, it was not surprising that a camp at Boulogne,

almost visible from the Kentish cliffs should have given rise to tremors, some of which assumed a rather ludicrous appearance; but that which I believe did not occur in England fifty years ago, nor at any former period, was the utterance of the wish, or suggestion, that the danger might be averted by concealing those feelings of honest indignation which the conduct of her most powerful enemy excited. It is true that there were then great differences of opinion respecting the character of Napoleon, and that some attributed the whole blame of the quarrel with him to the English ministers; but the important matter is, that the opinions which were held, and which in the great majority of cases were vehemently hostile to the French ruler, were not qualified or disguised, and, above all, were not disguised through fear. Even when the danger to the nation was greatest, the right and practice of free speech were not on that account in any danger. It will hardly be denied that our position at the beginning of the present year had some points of painful contrast with the position occupied by that former generation, which has now for the most part gone to its rest. This is a subject to be approached with caution, and even with awe. Nothing of greater moment has occupied, or is likely to occupy, the thoughts of those who now live. To touch upon it is to tread at every step upon ashes, amidst which the embers are still hot and visible. It does indeed demand the gravest circumspection, but also frankness, and no shutting of the eyes to facts. To see and say the thing which actually is, is therefore the desire of the present writer, and in attempting thus much his obscurity is not inconsistent with a keen sense of responsibility.

English Views of the Coup d'Etat in France.

The news of the great and sudden change which took place in France in December last, gave rise to impressions the most opposite amongst different minds in England. In some men, of the highest intelligence and worth, it produced if not re

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joicing, at least satisfaction. To such it appeared that France was now at all events rescued from the horrors of anarchy; that under the guidance of her constitutional statesmen the vessel was fast going upon the rocks, and that in a concentration of the supreme command lay her last means of safety. It further appeared, that a single ruler, really wielding the great power of France, exempt from all the old Bourbon prejudices, disposed to make himself a representative of the civilization of Western Europe, and able to restrain and regulate without suppressing the democratic impulses of a people full of political vitality, would have formed, in friendly alliance with England, a far more effective counterpoise to the eastern despotisms of the Continent than could be presented by any distracted republic. Some such view may be supposed to have led to the error of Lord Palmerston, for it could have arisen from no motive inconsistent with an attachment to constitutional freedom.

But there were others in England who rejoiced at the blow given to constitutional liberty in France, not because it would array the force of that country against the old despotisms, but because it would assimilate the East and the West, and complete the iron framework of military rule over the whole of Europe. They were glad to think that the luxurious current of aristocratic existence would now flow on in its calm and perfumed tranquillity, without the intrusion of a sound or an odour which would recall the disquieting and offensive struggles of a suffering people. Above all, they were glad to believe that democracy was in its coffin at last; that all that turbid popular life, which by the anxieties it created was every day more and more breaking up the smooth surface of Epicurean enjoyment, was at an end; that its remains were crushed down under ground, and would be heard of no more. They looked thenceforth for a peace where true peace could not be.

The view of the majority of the English people was different. When they saw the constitution of France, which with