PARIS, _Tuesday, August 9, 1870_.
DEAR FRIEND: I think it would be well for you not to come to Paris just
now. I fear that in a little while there will be some lamentable scenes
here. The streets are full of downcast, discouraged people, and drunken
men singing the “Marseillaise.” Great disorder prevails. The army has
been, and is, admirable, but is seems that we have no generals. All may
still be repaired; but, for that, a miracle would be necessary.
I am no worse, only overwhelmed by the situation. I am writing to you
from the Luxembourg, where we do nothing but exchange hopes and fears.
Give me some news of yourself. Good-bye.