[Paris,] 138 Avenue des Champs-Elysees:
December 11, [1851].

To show how alive I am, dearest Mrs. Martin, I will tell you that I have
just come home from a long walk to the Tuileries. We took a carriage to
return, that's true. Then yesterday I was out, besides, and last
Saturday, _the 6th_, we drove down the boulevards to see the field of
action on the terrible Thursday (the only day on which there was any
fighting of consequence), counting the holes in the walls bored by the
cannon, and looking at the windows smashed in. Even then, though the
asphalte was black with crowds, the quiet was absolute, and most of the
shops reopened. On Sunday the theatres were as full as usual, and our
Champs-Elysees had quite its complement of promenaders. Wiedeman's
prophecy had not been carried out, any more than the prophecies of the
wiser may--the soldiers had not shot Punch.

And now I do beg you not to be down-hearted. See, if French blood runs
in your veins, that you don't take a pedantic view of this question like
an Englishwoman. Constitutional forms and essential principles of
liberty are so associated in England, that they are apt to be
confounded, and are, in fact, constantly confounded. For my part, I am
too good a democrat to be afraid of being thrown back upon the primitive
popular element, from impossible paper constitutions and unrepresenting
representative assemblies. The situation was in a deadlock, and all the
conflicting parties were full of dangerous hope of taking advantage of
it; and I don't see, for my part, what better could be done for the
French nation than to sweep the board clear and bid them begin again.
With no sort of prejudice in favour of Louis Napoleon (except, I confess
to you, some artistical admiration for the consummate ability and
courage shown in his _coup d'etat_), with no particular faith in the
purity of his patriotism, I yet hold him justified _so far_, that is, I
hold that a pure patriot would be perfectly justifiable in taking the
same steps which up to this moment he has taken. He has broken,
certainly, the husk of an oath, but fidelity to the intention of it
seems to me reconcilable with the breach; and if he had not felt that he
had the great mass of the people to back him, he is at least too able a
man, be certain, if not too honest a man, to have dared what he has
dared. You will see the result of the elections. As to Paris, don't
believe that Paris suffers violence from Louis Napoleon. The result of
my own impressions is a conviction that _from the beginning_ he had the
sympathy of the whole population here with him, to speak generally, and
exclusively of particular parties. All our tradespeople, for instance,
milkman, breadman, wine merchant, and the rest, yes, even the shrewd old
washerwoman, and the concierge, and our little lively servant were in a
glow of sympathy and admiration. 'Mais, c'est le vrai neveu de son
oncle! il est admirable! enfin la patrie sera sauvee.' The bourgeoisie
has now accepted the situation, it is admitted on all hands. 'Scandalous
adhesion!' say some. 'Dreadful apathy!' say others. Don't _you_ say
either one or the other, or I think you will be unjust to Paris and
France.

The French people are very democratical in their tendencies, but they
must have a visible type of hero-worship, and they find it in the bearer
of that name Napoleon. That name is the only tradition dear to them, and
it is deeply dear. That a man bearing it, and appealing at the same time
to the whole people upon democratical principles, should be answered
from the heart of the people, should neither astonish, nor shame, nor
enrage anybody.

An editor of the 'National,' a friend of ours, feels this so much, that
he gnashes his teeth over the imprudence of the extreme Reds, who did
not set themselves to trample out the fires of Buonapartism while they
had some possibility of doing it. 'Ce peuple a la tete _dure_,' said he
vehemently.

As to military despotism, would France bear _that_, do you think? Is the
French army, besides, made after the fashion of standing armies, such as
we see in other countries? Are they not eminently _civic_, flesh of the
people's flesh? I fear no military despotism for France, oh, none. Every
soldier is a citizen, and every citizen is or has been a soldier.

Altogether, instead of despairing, I am full of hope. It seems to me
probable that the door is open to a wider and calmer political liberty
than France has yet enjoyed. Let us wait.

The American _forms_ of republicanism are most uncongenial to this
artistic people; but democratical institutions will deepen and broaden,
I think, even if we should soon all be talking of the 'Empire.'

As to the repressive measures, why, grant the righteousness of the
movement, and you must accept its conditions. Don't believe the
tremendous exaggerations you are likely to hear on all sides--don't, I
beseech you.

The President rode under our windows on December 2, through a shout
extending from the Carrousel to the Arc de l'Etoile. The troups poured
in as we stood and looked. No sight could be grander, and I would not
have missed it, not for the Alps, I say.

You say nothing specific. How I should like to know _why_ exactly you
are out of spirits, and whether dear Mr. Martin is sad too. Robert and I
have had some domestic _emeutes_, because he hates some imperial names;
yet he confessed to me last night that the excessive and contradictory
nonsense he had heard among Legitimists, Orleanists, and _English_,
against the movement inclined him almost to a revulsion of feeling.

I would have written to you to-day, even if I had not received your
letter. You will forgive that what I have written should have been
scratched in the utmost haste to save the post. I can't even read it
over. There's the effect of going out to walk the first thing in the
morning....

Your ever affectionate
BA--to both of you.