us, on your compassion, you
see....

I think, I think Miss Blackwell has succeeded in frightening you a
little. In the case of _chaos_, she will fly to England, I suppose; and
even there she may fall on a refugee plot; for I have seen a letter of
Mazzini's in which it was written that people stood on ruins in England,
and that at any moment there might be a crash! Certainly, confusion in
Paris would be followed by confusion in Italy and everywhere on the
Continent at least, so I should never think of running away, let what
might happen. In '52 and '53, when we were in Paris, there was more
danger than _could_ arise now, under a successful plot even; for, even
if the Emperor fell, the people and the army seem prepared to stand by
the dynasty. Also, public order has attained to some of the force of an
habitual thing.

As to the crime,[57] it has no more sympathy here than in France--be
sure of that. That unscrupulous bad party is repudiated by this
majority--by this people as a mass. I hear nothing but lamentations
that Italians should be dishonored so by their own hands. Father Prout
says that the Emperor's speech is 'the most heroic document of this
century,' and in my mind the praise is merited. So indignant I feel with
Mazzini and all who name his name and walk in his steps, that I couldn't
find it in my heart to write (as I was going to do) to that poor
bewitched Jessie on her marriage. Really, when I looked at the pen, I
_couldn't move it_....

Best love from
BA.

* * * * *

_To Mrs. Martin_

Florence: March 27 [1858]

This moment I take up my pen to write to you, my dearest Mrs. Martin.
Did you not receive a long letter I wrote to you in Paris? No? Answer me
categorically....

And you are not very strong, even now? That grieves me. But here is the
sun to make us all strong. For my part, my chest has not been
particularly wrong this winter, nor my cough too troublesome. But the
weight of the whole year heavy with various kinds of trouble, added to a
trying winter, seems to have stamped out of me the vital fluid, and I am
physically low, to a degree which makes me glad of renewed opportunities
of getting the air; and I mean to do little but drive out for some time.
It does not answer to be mastered so. For months I have done nothing but
dream and read French and German romances; and the result (of learning a
good deal of German) isn't the most useful thing in the world on