Before the ambassador could commence his singular task, an event had occurred in Paris which seemed to render a war unavoidable. The politicians of the French capital had become feverish with excitement. Not only did a species of delirium afflict the immediate advisers of the Emperor, but the band of expectants, who, more ardent Imperialists than he was, still believed that nothing could withstand the French army; while the opposition, loving France not less, but what they called liberty more, were eager to take advantage of an incident which seemed likely to throw discredit on the Bonapartes. Wisdom would have prevented, but party tactics demanded a movement in the Chamber which took the innocent-looking form of an inquiry. The Government dreaded, yet could not evade, the ordeal, and M. Cochery put his question on the 6th of July. Had the Duc de Gramont been a clever Minister, or had he represented a Government strongly rooted in the national respect and affection, he would have been able to deliver a colourless response, if he could not have based a refusal to answer upon public grounds. The truth is, he was carried off his feet by the sudden storm which raged through the journals and society, and it may be surmised that, even then, despite the plébiscite, fears for the stability of the dynasty had no small share in determining his conduct. Yet, it must be stated, that he was only one of the Council of Ministers who sanctioned the use of language which read, and still reads, like an indirect declaration of war. After expressing sympathy with Spain, and asserting, what was not true, that the Imperial Government had observed a strict neutrality with regard to the several candidates for the crown, he struck a note of defiance: “We do not believe,” he exclaimed, “that respect for the rights of a neighbouring people obliges us to endure that a foreign State, by placing one of its princes on the throne of Charles V., should be able to derange, to our injury, the balance of power in Europe, and to imperil the interests and honour of France.” The pacific sentences uttered by M. Ollivier on this memorable occasion were forgotten; the trumpet-blast of the Duc de Gramont rang through the world, and still rings in the memory. Prussia was not named by the Minister, but everyone beyond the Rhine knew who was meant by the “German people,” and a “foreign Power;” while, as Benedetti has stated in a private despatch to Gramont, the King deeply felt it as a “provocation.”