merely
speak historically. Brave men, good men, even sensible men there are
of course in the land, but they are not strong enough for the times
or for masterdom. For France, it is a great nation; but even in
France they want a man, and Cavaignacso[182] only a soldier. If Louis
Napoleon had the muscle of his uncle's little finger in his soul, he
would be president, and king; but he is flaccid altogether, you see,
and Joinville stands nearer to the royal probability after all.
'Henri Cinq' is said to be too closely espoused to the Church, and his
connections at Naples and Parma don't help his cause. Robert has more
hope of the _republic_ than I have: but call ye _this_ a republic? Do
you know that Miss Martineau takes up the 'History of England' under
Charles Knight, in the continuation of a popular book? I regret her
fine imagination being so wasted. So you saw Mr. Chorley? What a
pleasant flashing in the eyes! We hear of him in Holland and Norway.
Dear Mr. Kenyon won't stir from England, we see plainly. Ah! Frederic
Soulie! he is too dead, I fear. Perhaps he goes on, though, writing
romances, after the fashion of poor Miss Pickering, that prove
nothing. I long for my French fountains of living literature, which,
pure or impure, plashed in one's face so pleasantly. Some old French
'Memoires' we have got at lately, 'Brienne' for instance. It is
curious how the leaders of the last revolution (under Louis XVIII.)
seem to have despised one another. Brienne is very dull and flat. For
Puseyism, it runs counter to the spirit of our times, after all, and
will never achieve a church. May God bless you! Robert's regards go
with the love of your ever affectionate

BA.

[Footnote 182: At this time President of the Council, after
suppressing the Communist rising of June 1848.]

_To Mrs. Martin_
Florence: December 3, 1848.

My dearest Mrs. Martin,--It seemed long to me that you had not
written, and it seems long to me now that I have not answered the kind
letter which came at last. Then Henrietta told me of your being unwell
at the moment of her mad excursion into Herefordshire. Altogether
I want to speak to you and hear from you, and shall be easier and
gladder when both are done. Do forgive my sins and write directly, and
tell me everything about both of you, and how you are in spirits and
health, and whether you really make up your minds to see more danger
in the stormy influences of the Continent in the moral point of vie