tain other views as a scoundrel, an idiot, or a
traitor. I confess that I have always regarded a Republican form of
government as the best, wherever it is possible. But in France it is not
possible. The people are not sufficiently educated, and have not
sufficient common sense for it. Were I a Frenchman a Republic would be
my dream of the future; for the present I should be in favour of a
Constitutional Monarchy. A Republic would soon result in anarchy or in
despotism; and without any great love for Kings of any kind, I prefer a
Constitutional Monarch to either Anarchy or a Caesar. One must take a
practical view of things in this world, and not sacrifice what is good
by a vain attempt to attain at once what is better.

Will the Prussians enter Paris? is the question which I have been asked
by every Frenchman to whom I have mentioned that I have been at
Versailles. This question overshadows every other; and I am fully
convinced that this vain, silly population would rather that King
William should double the indemnity which he demands from France than
march with his troops down the Rue Rivoli. The fact that they have been
conquered is not so bitter to the Parisians as the idea of that fact
being brought home to them by the presence of their conquerors even for
half-an-hour within the walls of the sacred city. I have no very great
sympathy with the desire of the Prussians to march through Paris; and I
have no great sympathy with the horror which is felt by the Parisians at
their intention to do so. The Prussian flag waves over the forts, and
consequently to all intents and purposes Paris has capitulated. A
triumphal march along the main streets will not mend matters, nor mar
matters. "Attila, without, stands before vanquished Paris, as the
Cimbrian slave did before Marius. The sword drops from his hand; awed by
the majesty of the past, he flees and dares not strike," is the way in
which a newspaper I have just bought deals with the question. It is
precisely this sort of nonsense which makes the Prussians determined
that the Parisians shall drink the cup of humiliation to its last dregs.

I was told at Versailles that St. Cloud had been set on fire on the
morning after the last sortie, and that although many houses were still
burning when the armistice was signed, none had subsequently been either
pillaged or burnt. This act of vandalism has greatly incensed the
French, and I understand that the King of Prussia himself reg