And France was in need of saving! No longer were the boulevards filled with maddened patriots, excited by wine and shouting of victory; instead, these same patriots walked about with a grave air, or joined squads of men under training; and when they spoke there was no bravado, but only great determination.
Wissembourg, with the defeat and death of General Douay, had been the first event to startle the Parisian out of his self-satisfaction and ignorance. Then, two days later, came the defeat which definitely turned the tide against France—the rout of Marshal MacMahon, whose army was literally cut to pieces at Freischwiller and Reichshoffen. A human torrent of four hundred thousand men poured over the fields of France. The country was invaded; Paris was in danger.
Paris in danger! The Parisians were not so much inclined to laugh as they had been at first. It was ridiculous, of course—it would take a million and a half men to besiege Paris successfully—but still, but still, there was Wissembourg, and the undeniable evidence of Freischwiller and Reichshoffen!
Count de Palikao, the new head of the Government, was a friend of Sarah’s; that is, he had seen and spoken to her once or twice, and would stop and bow when he met her. One day he sent for her to his office, at the Chamber of Deputies.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, taking her hand, “you can do a great work for your country, if you will!”
Sarah asked him to explain. The Count then said that the Government had noticed how enthusiasm for the war was dying; and that something like panic was imminent in Paris, unless optimism and hope could at once be restored to the hearts of the people.
“That is your task!” he finished.
The Count’s plan was for Sarah to organise a committee of artistes, authors and newspaper writers of her acquaintance, the object of which was to instil into the people of Paris renewed belief in the success of the campaign. More patriotic performances were to be given; patriotic posters were to be drawn up and posted; and every member individually, whether by word of mouth or by articles in the Press, was to affirm his or her belief that victory was near.
Sarah undertook the task with enthusiasm. There is no doubt now that her part in the defence of Paris was a glorious one. There is no doubt, either, that wily old Count de Palikao, being a general and a fine strategist himself, was perfectly well aware even then that Paris was doomed.
Towards the latter part of August the efforts of the volunteer committee fell more and more flat. The people seemed to have sunk into an apathy out of which they could be aroused, only at infrequent intervals, by rumours of victories—which generally turned out to be false. When Sarah sang the Marseillaise now she met with but a feeble response.