nnounced "that the Governor of Paris will
never capitulate." His colleagues have periodically said much the same
thing. The most practical of them, M. Ernest Picard, has, I believe,
once or twice endeavoured to lead up to the subject, but he has failed
in the attempt. Newspaper articles and Government proclamations tell the
population every day that they only have to persevere in order
ultimately to triumph. If the end must come, it is difficult to see how
it will come. I have asked many intelligent persons what they think will
happen, but no one seems to have a very distinct notion respecting it.
Some think the Government will issue some day a notice to say that there
are only provisions for a week longer; and that at the end of this time
the gates of the city will be opened, and the Prussians told that, if
they insist upon entering, there will be nothing to prevent them. Others
think that the Government will resign their power into the hands of the
mayors, as the direct representatives of Paris. Trochu rides about a
good deal outside, and says to the soldiers, "Courage, my children, the
moment is coming." But to what moment he alludes no one is aware. No
word is more abused in the French language than "sublime." To call a
folly a sublime folly is considered a justification of any species of
absurdity. We call this refusal to anticipate a contingency which
certainly is possible, if not probable, sublime. We are proud of it, and
sleep on in our fool's paradise as though it were to last for ever.

CHAPTER XVII.

_January 17th._

The papers publish reports of the meetings of the clubs. The following
is from the _Debats_ of to-day:--

"At the extremity of the Rue Faubourg St. Antoine is a dark passage, and
in a room which opens into this passage is the Club de la Revendication.
The audience is small, and consists mainly of women, who come there to
keep warm. The club is peaceable--hardly revolutionary--for Rome is Rome
no more, and the Faubourg St. Antoine, formerly so turbulent, has
resigned in favour of Belleville and La Villette. Yesterday evening the
Club de la Revendication was occupied, as usual, in discussing the
misery of the situation, and the necessity of electing a Commune. An
orator, whose patriotic enthusiasm attained almost to frenzy, declared
that as for himself he scorned hams and sausages in plenty, and that he
preferred to live on the air of liberty. (The women sigh.) Another
speaker is of opi