Public irritation vented itself first of all against the ministry, which was forced to resign. Émile Ollivier was succeeded by the aged General Montauban, Count of Palikao, who had distinguished himself in the war against China; while Trochu was appointed Governor of Paris. Further to satisfy popular sentiment, Napoleon was forced to resign his position as Generalissimo in favor of Marshal Bazaine, who accordingly assumed the chief command of the army.
Under normal conditions the Emperor’s place would now have been in Paris; but the new ministry, as well as the Empress herself, protested against his return. Disheartened by the long delays, sore with disappointed hopes, and furious at the supposed mistakes of the generals, the people of Paris were ripe for revolution, and only a spark was needed to set them aflame. The imperial pair were overwhelmed with scorn and abuse. Already their throne was tottering, and with the victorious advance of the Germans, conviction of its speedy downfall grew daily stronger.
Never before had the Empress found herself in so critical a situation. The new ministry lacked the confidence of the public and could be of no help to her. She had no tried general to depend upon, and every trace of the troops’ devotion to the house of Napoleon had long since vanished. She stood alone and defenceless against an enraged populace only awaiting a pretext to hurl itself upon her. With this daily-increasing excitement, the brawls and dissensions caused by the army’s defeats on the frontier, and universal anxiety for the fate of the country, Eugénie began to understand how grievously she had erred in urging on this “little war,” as she had referred to it in the beginning of the campaign. Fears as to the fate of her own husband and child made her realize for the first time the suffering of thousands of other wives and mothers. She felt the necessity of uniting with them in some active work, and was tireless in her efforts to atone in some measure for the wrong she had thoughtlessly committed.
In the days of prosperity her worst qualities had been uppermost; she had not shown the better side of her nature. It remained for misfortune to reveal her real strength and nobility of character. In spite of the feeling against her, she went about everywhere, personally superintending the care of the wounded. The brilliant salons of the Tuileries were turned into hospital wards. A new spirit seemed to animate her and to lend her fresh strength in this time of danger. At night she rarely slept, and even when taking a brief rest during the day, her attendants had orders to awaken her the moment any message or despatch arrived. No matter how worn out or exhausted she might be, she would force herself to rise and hasten back to the bedside of the wounded where there was so much suffering to relieve, though she had no time to think of her own misery. Yet often in her own chamber, haunted by the agonized cries of the dying, she would pace up and down wringing her hands as if in bodily pain, tortured by anguish of soul. In these hours she prayed long and fervently for her dear ones and for her people, the women who suffered like herself, the brave men who were fighting for their country. A feverish activity possessed her. She tried to persuade Austria to assist France. She wrote to the Queen of England imploring her to intervene for the sake of peace. She pardoned over two thousand criminals. She superintended the preparations for the defence of Paris and held innumerable consultations with Trochu, in whom she placed the blindest and most implicit confidence. At the same time, however, she took the precaution of having all her important private and family papers conveyed on board the French squadron, as well as some of the principal works of art from the Louvre. She also had a list of the crown jewels made, to secure her against suspicion in case of extremity. Her own personal ornaments were sent to her mother in Spain. The strain and over-exertion of these weeks seriously affected her health and wrought a startling change in her appearance. Tortured with suspense, she waited from day to day for news from the seat of war; yet all that came brought so little comfort that her advisers thought best to conceal it from the people as far as possible.