[Paris,] 138 Avenue des Champs-Elysees:
December 10, [1851].

I receive your letter, dearest friend, and hasten to write a few brief
words to save the post.

We have suffered neither fear nor danger--and I would not have missed
the grand spectacle of the second of December[7] for anything in the
world--scarcely, I say, for the sight of the Alps.

On the only day in which there was much fighting (Thursday), Wiedeman
was taken out to walk as usual, under the precaution of keeping in the
immediate neighbourhood of this house. This will prove to you how little
we have feared for ourselves.

But the natural emotion of the situation one could not escape from, and
on Thursday night I sate up in my dressing gown till nearly one,
listening to the distant firing from the boulevards. Thursday was the
only day in which there was fighting of any serious kind. There has been
_no resistance_ on the part of the real people--nothing but sympathy for
the President, I _believe_, if you except the natural mortification and
disappointment of baffled parties. To judge from our own tradespeople:
'il a bien fait! c'est le vrai neveu de son oncle!' such phrases rung on
every tone expressed the prevailing sentiment.

For my own part I have not only more hope in the situation but more
faith in the French people than is ordinary among the English, who
really try to exceed one another in discoloration and distortion of the
circumstances. The government was in a deadlock--what was to be done?
Yes, all parties cried out, 'What was to be done?' and felt that we were
waist deep a fortnight ago in a state of crisis. In throwing back the
sovereignty from a 'representative assembly' which had virtually ceased
to represent, into the hands of the people, I think that Louis Napoleon
did well. The talk about 'military despotism' is absolute nonsense. The
French army is eminently civic, and nations who take their ideas from
the very opposite fact of a _standing army_ are far from understanding
how absolutely a French soldier and French citizen are the same thing.
The independence of the elections seems to be put out of reach of
injury; and intelligent men of adverse opinions to the government think
that the majority will be large in its favour. Such a majority would
certainly justify Louis Napoleon, or _should_--even with you in England.

I think you quite understate the amount of public virtue in France. The
difficulties of statesmanship here are enormous. I do not accuse even M.
Thiers of want of public virtue. What he has wanted, has been length and
breadth of view--purely an intellectual defect--and his petty, puny
_tracasseries_ destroyed the Republican Assembly just as it destroyed
the throne of Louis Philippe, in spite of his own intentions.

There is a conflict of ideas in France, which we have no notion of in
England, but we ought to understand that it does not involve the failing
of _principle_, in the elemental moral sense. Be just to France, dear
friend, you who are more than an Englishwoman--a Mrs. Jameson!

Everything is perfectly tranquil in Paris, I assure you--theatres full
and galleries open as usual. At the same time, timid and discouraged
persons say, 'Wait till after the elections,' and of course the public
emotion will be a good deal excited at that time. Therefore, judge for
yourself. For my own part I have not had the slightest cause for alarm
of any kind--and there is my child! Judge....

The weather is exquisite, and I am going out to walk directly. It is
scarcely possible to bear a fire, and some of our friends sit with the
window open. We are all well.

This should have gone to you yesterday, but we had visitors who talked
past post time. The delay, however, has allowed of my writing more than
I meant to have done in beginning this letter. Robert's best love.

Your ever affectionate
BA.

Robert says that according to the impression of the wisest there can be
no danger. Don't wait till after the elections. The time is most
interesting, and it is well worth your while to come and see for
yourself.