Substantially, it was the grotesque pile of misrepresentation built up on this blunt telegram—M. Benedetti read it next morning in the “Cologne Gazette,” and took no exception whatever to the brief and exact narrative it contained—which set the Parisians on fire. Travestied in many ways by calculating politicians, as well as gossips, the message became a “Note,” or a “despatch,” imputing the extreme of intentional rudeness to King William, and imposing the depth of humiliation, publicly inflicted, upon France through her representative, who, all the time, was not only unconscious of any insult, but emphatic in his acknowledgments of the King’s courtesy, kindness, and patience. Probably Count Bismarck wrote his telegram for Germany, but its effect in satisfying the Fatherland, was not greater than its influence upon the fiery French, who never read the text until months afterwards, and in July, 1870, were set a-flame by the distorted versions freely supplied by rumour’s forked tongue. _The French Government and the Chamber._ War was now plainly inevitable, yet the decisive word still rested with the Imperial Government. In Paris there were two currents running strongly in opposite ways, and, for a moment, it seemed possible that the tide which made for peace would overpower the surging stream which drove onwards towards war. More than one-half the Ministry believed, and some, M. Ollivier for one, said that the retreat of Prince Leopold, with the consent of the King, a great diplomatic victory for France, was enough, and had, indeed, brought the quarrel to an end. At midday, on the 13th, M. Robert Mitchell, meeting M. Paul de Cassagnac, said, “I have just left Ollivier, and, thank God, peace is secured.” “My father,” was the reply, “has just quitted the Emperor; war is resolved on.” The statement was not then exact, but it may be accepted as a forecast. For, in truth, it was only at noon the next day that the Ministers assembled in council at the Tuileries to answer the momentous question which so profoundly agitated their minds. They sat six hours; they were divided in opinion; yet, although Marshal Lebœuf was authorized to call out the reserves—he had threatened to resign unless that were done—the Ministers separated with the understanding that a peaceful line of action should be adopted, based on a demand for a Congress of the Powers to sanction the principle that no member of any reigning house should accept a foreign throne. The Duc de Gramont’s brief account of this notable Council shows that the hankering after war was powerful therein; since he says that “the Government decided, not without hesitation, but influenced by a love of peace, to propose this pacific solution.” But all, or some of the Ministers, and still more the Emperor, stood in dread of two things: they were alarmed lest the “dynasty” should be injured by a course which bore the semblance of a forced retreat, and they could not rely with confidence on the