It is a pity that no one had thought of holding an International Conference in the early days of the tenth century; there were a great many things to discuss, and a Conference would have added to the gaiety of nations. There was the question of those Northern Slavonic tribes who had steadfastly refused the blessings of Christianity as purveyed by the Teuton; of course, no one could foresee that the Western Church's activities in those northern regions would eventually produce the modern Prussian. Then the Conference would have to decide whether or no Vikings, Hungarians and Saracens should be admitted to the comity of nations, and if not, how to start doing business with those people all the same. Then the place of the Conference would have to be decided; there was quite a fair choice of suitable localities. Paris was becoming popular, had already been discovered by people from over the seas--by the Vikings, who, in quest of souvenirs, on one occasion sacked the city, on another burnt it down. Aix-la-Chapelle had been popular for some centuries before the Vikings discovered the attractions of Paris; it had the waters to recommend it, and also memories of pious Charlemagne, on which members of the Conference might reflect when not engaged in feasting and providing the Press with fiction. Constantinople would also have been well suited to an International Conference in the tenth century. The Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus was rather a dull dog, but he kept a glittering court, and none but the most refined society is good enough for secretaries, bottlewashers and other numerous hangers-on of conferences. Kings and rulers would probably have attended the Conference in person, not being willing to afford the luxury of allowing a Prime Minister to neglect home affairs. It would have been a pretty gathering, Constantine Porphyrogenitus the bookworm probably as president, Æthelstan of England, Charles the Simple of France or as much as his neighbours allowed him, that doughty poacher Henry the Fowler, German King, and Pope Leo not on speaking terms with him, St. Wenceslaus of Bohemia trying to make peace with Henry, and a make-weight of German counts and churchmen, possibly representatives of Vikings, Hungarians and Saracens. The proceedings would have been marked by a "certain liveliness," as we used to say at the front when the fur began to fly. The Conference would have differed from those of the present day, by leading to a definite result if only in the form of a handsome row of corpses; Counts of the Marches, Vikings and others would have attended to that. It would have been interesting to note how monkish reporters would clothe, or rather veil, their account of proceedings in suitable language.