I was interrupted in this letter yesterday.  Meantime comes out the decree against the Orleans property, which I disapprove of altogether.  It’s the worst thing yet done, to my mind.  Yet the Bourse stands fast, and the decree is likely enough to be popular with the ouvrier class.  There are rumours of tremendously wild financial measures, only I believe in no rumours just now, and apparently the Bourse is as incredulous on this particular point.  If I thought (as people say) that we are on the verge of a ‘law’ declaring the Roman Catholic religion the State religion, I should give him up at once; but this would be contrary to the traditions of the Empire, and I can’t suppose it to be probable on any account.

Observe, I am no Napoleonist.  I am simply a democrat, and hold that the majority of a nation has the right of choice upon the question of its own government, even where it makes a mistake.  Therefore the outcry of the English newspapers is most disgusting to me.  For the rest, one can hardly do strict justice, at this time of transition, to the ultimate situation of the country; we must really wait a little, till the wind and rain shall have ceased to dash so in one’s eyes.  The wits go on talking, though, all the same; and I heard a suggestion yesterday, that, for the effaced ‘Liberte, egalite, fraternite,’ should be written up, ‘Infanterie, cavallerie, artillerie.’  That’s the last ‘mot,’ I believe.  The salons are very noisy.  A lady was ordered to her country seat the other day for exclaiming, ’Et il n’y a pas de Charlotte Corday.’

Forgive, with this dull letter, my other defects.  Always I am frank to you, saying what is in my heart; and there is always there, dearest Miss Mitford, a fruitful and grateful affection to you from your

E.B.B.

* * * * *

To Miss Mitford

[Paris], 138 Avenue des Ch.-Elysees:  February 15, [1852].

Thank you, thank you, my beloved friend.  Yes; I do understand in my heart all your kindness.  Yes, I do believe that on some points I am full of disease; and this has exposed me several times to shocks of pain in the ordinary intercourse of the world, which for bystanders were hard, I dare say, to make out.  Once at the Baths of Lucca I was literally nearly struck down to the ground by a single word said in all kindness by a friend whom I had not seen for ten years.  The blue sky reeled over me, and I caught at something, not to fall.  Well, there is no use dwelling on this subject.  I understand your affectionateness and tender consideration, I repeat, and thank you; and love you, which is better.  Now, let us talk of reasonable things.