Christophe Kellermann was born at Strasburg on May 28, 1735. Entering
the French army at the age of fifteen, he fought his way up step by step
by sheer hard work and merit. Winning the Cross of St. Louis for
distinguished cavalry work in the Seven Years' War, he was sent in 1766
on a mission to Poland and Russia, on the strength of which he was lent
by the French Government to help the Confederates of Bar to organise
their irregular cavalry. Returning to France, he slowly gained
promotion, and in 1788 became major-general and was promoted
lieutenant-general in March, 1792, mainly owing to his warm adoption of
the revolutionary principles. Kellermann had not the gifts of a great
commander, but he had what is sometimes better, the confidence of his
men. He was notorious for his hatred of the old regime and had a high
reputation as a cavalry commander: added to this, the firm belief he had
in himself served to inspire confidence in others. Independent by
nature, ambitious, cantankerous, jealous and conceited, Kellermann had
not found his life in the army any too pleasant. Save in war time merit
gained little reward; promotion came neither from the east nor the west,
but from court favouritism. It thus happened that the rough Alsatian had
always found himself subordinate to men who were really his inferiors,
but who despised his want of culture and his provincial accent; for
Kellermann knew no grammar, spoke through his nose and spelt as he
spoke, even writing "debute" for "depute." It was thanks to the
friendship of Servan, the War Minister, that on August 25th he was
summoned from the small column he had been commanding on the Lauter to
succeed Luckner in command of the Army of the Centre. When he arrived at
his new headquarters at Metz he found a woeful state of affairs. The
Prussians and Austrians were sweeping everything before them, and at
Metz he found a fortress without stores and an army without discipline.
Luckily he had the advantage of Berthier, a staff officer of the highest
order, Napoleon's future chief of the staff. The soldiers welcomed
Kellermann, "this brave general whose patriotism equals his talents,"
and whose civism was praised throughout all Alsace. Organisation was his
first work, and his former experience of irregular warfare in Poland
stood him in good stead. He immediately sent home the battalions of the
volunteers of 1792, who were arriving without arms and in rags. He
retained a few picked men from each battalion, to be used as light
troops and pioneers. After weeding out undesirables and drafting
reinforcements into his most reliable regiments, in three weeks he
evolved a force of twenty thousand men capable of taking the field.
While thus engaged he was ordered to join Dumouriez, who had been
holding the Prussians in check at the defiles of the Argonne. On the
evening of September 19th Kellermann effected his junction with
Dumouriez near St. Menehould, and was attacked early next morning by the
enemy under the Duke of Brunswick. The morning was wet and foggy, and
the Prussians surprised the French and cut them off from the road to
Paris. But instead of driving home their attack they thought to frighten
them by a mere cannonade. Luckily the artillery was the least
demoralised part of the French army, and under the able command of
d'Abbeville, it not only replied to the Prussian guns, but played with
great effect on the infantry, when at last Brunswick ordered an attack.
Kellermann meanwhile sat on his horse in front of his infantry, and by
his example and sangfroid managed to keep them in the ranks, though they
were really so unsteady that when an ammunition wagon blew up, three
regiments of infantry and the whole of the ammunition column fled in
disorder from the field. But Kellermann galloped up in time to prevent
the panic spreading. Meanwhile Dumouriez had hastened up reinforcements
to secure Kellermann's flanks, and the Duke of Brunswick, seeing the
French standing firm, and not being sure of his own men, refused to
allow the attack to be pressed home. Such was the cannonade of Valmy;
the Prussians had thirty-four thousand men engaged, and lost one hundred
and eighty-four men; the French had thirty-six thousand engaged out of a
total of fifty-two thousand, and lost three hundred, and the greater
proportion of this loss was due to Kellermann's bad tactics in massing
his infantry close behind his guns.
[Illustration: FRANCOIS CHRISTOPHE KELLERMANN, DUKE OF VALMY
FROM AN ENGRAVING AFTER THE PAINTING BY ANSIAUX]
Still, Valmy was one of the most important battles in the world's
history, for it taught Europe that France still existed as a political
unit, and it allowed her to effect her regeneration in her own way.
Neither Kellermann nor Dumouriez at first understood what they had done.
Dumouriez drew off his army to a better position to await events. But
Valmy had restored the morale of the French and broken that of the
Prussians, whom disease and bad weather further affected, and soon
Brunswick was glad to negotiate and retreat to the Rhine. Kellermann's
share in the great event is easily determined. He had most unwillingly
joined Dumouriez, he had allowed himself to be surprised in the morning,
and his tactics were so bad that his men suffered heavier loss than was
necessary; but though it was Dumouriez who made good the tactical
mistake and covered Kellermann's flanks, and d'Abbeville whose
artillery caused the infantry attack to miscarry, it was Kellermann's
reputation and example which kept the really demoralised infantry in
line, and prevented them from running in terror from the field. It was
the sight of the old Alsatian quietly getting on a fresh horse when his
former one was killed, caring nothing though one of his coat-tails was
carried off by a round shot, which breathed new life and courage into
the masses of waiting men, and taught them to cry out, "Vive la nation!
Vive la France! Vive notre general!" So, though men might smile when
they heard the old boaster talking of "My victory," yet in their hearts
they knew he had done much to save France.
While the Prussians retreated Kellermann was entrusted by Dumouriez with
the pursuit; on his return to Paris his boasting habits brought him into
trouble. The Terrorists, hearing him constantly talking of "My men," "My
army," were afraid he was getting too powerful and he very nearly came
to the scaffold. Restored to favour, he was employed with the Army of
the Alps and the Army of Italy in 1794 and 1795, where he gained some
success, although his plans were constantly interfered with by the
Committee of Public Safety. In 1796 the Army of the Alps was made
subordinate to the Army of Italy under Bonaparte, and the Directory
wanted to associate Kellermann with Bonaparte, but the future conqueror
of Italy would brook no equal, especially a cantankerous boaster. So he
wrote to Carnot, "If you join Kellermann and me in command in Italy, you
will undo everything. General Kellermann has more experience than I, and
knows how to make war better than I do; but both together we shall make
it badly. I will not willingly serve with a man who considers himself
the first general in Europe." When, however, Bonaparte came to power he
did not forget the old Alsatian: in 1800 he made him one of his
Senators, and in 1804 he created him a Marshal, though not in the active
list. But exigencies of warfare demanded that France should use all her
talents, and in every campaign the Emperor entrusted the old warrior
with the command of the Army of the Reserve. Sometimes on the Rhine,
sometimes on the Elbe, sometimes in Spain, the old soldier taught the
recruits of the Grand Army how to keep themselves and their muskets
clean; and, in spite of age and infirmities, showed those talents of
organisation which he had learned in Poland and earlier still in the
Seven Years' War. In 1808, when creating his new nobility, the Emperor
cleverly conciliated the republican party by creating the Marshal Duke
of Valmy, and presenting him with a splendid domain at Johannisberg, in
Germany. But when the end came in 1814, the Duke of Valmy, like the
other Marshals, quietly accepted the Restoration, and the veteran
republican, now in his eightieth year, was created a peer of France and
accepted the command of the third military division. During the Hundred
Days he held no command, and on the Restoration he retired into private
life, and died at Paris on September 23, 1820. His body was buried in
Paris, but his heart, according to his directions, was taken to Valmy
and interred beside the remains of those who had fallen there, and a
simple monument was placed over the spot with the following lines,
written by the Marshal himself: "Here lie the soldiers who gloriously
died, and who saved France, on September 20, 1792. Marshal Kellermann,
the Duke of Valmy, the soldier who had the honour to command them on
that memorable day, twenty-eight years later, making his last request,
desired that his heart should be placed among them."
XXII
FRANCOIS JOSEPH LEFEBVRE, MARSHAL, DUKE OF DANTZIG
Francois Joseph Lefebvre, Marshal and peer of France, is best known to
the ordinary reader as the husband of that Duchess of Dantzig who has
been so unjustly caricatured in Monsieur Sardou's celebrated play as
Madame Sans Gene. Accordingly, the record of this hard-fighting soldier
of the Empire has been cruelly buried in ridicule. The son of an old
private soldier of the hussars of Bercheny, who became in later life the
wachtmeister of the little Alsatian town of Rouffach, Francois Joseph
was born October 26, 1755. After his father's death he was entrusted, at
the age of eight, to the care of his uncle, the Abbe Jean Christophe
Lefebvre. The abbe destined his nephew for the Church, but nature had
dowered him for the camp, and after a severe tussle with the good abbe,
Jean Francois set out with a light heart, a light purse, a few sentences
of Latin, a rough Alsatian accent, and a fine physique to seek his
fortune in the celebrated Garde Francaise at Paris. The year 1789 found
him with sixteen years' service, one of the best of the senior sergeants
of the regiment, married since 1783 to Catherine Huebscher, also from
Alsace, by profession a washerwoman, by nature a philanthropist.
Washing, soldiering, and philanthropy being on the whole unremunerative
occupations, the Lefebvres had to supplement their income, and Madame
went out charring, while the sergeant taught Alsatian, which he called
German, and occupied his spare moments in instructing his wife in
reading and writing. But the Revolution suddenly changed their outlook.
On September 1, 1789, Lefebvre was granted a commission as lieutenant in
the newly enrolled National Guard as a recompense for the devotion shown
to the officers when the Guards mutinied. Within the next two years he
further showed his devotion to the lawful authorities, and was twice
wounded while defending the royal family. But in spite of personal
attachment to the Bourbons, the Prussian invasion turned him into a
republican, and the Republic, as idealised by the warm-hearted warriors
of the armies of the Sambre and Meuse and of the Rhine, became the idol
of his heart. From the siege of Thionville, in 1792, till he was
invalided in 1799, Lefebvre was on continuous active service. His
extraordinary bravery, his knowledge of his profession, and his absolute
devotion to his duty brought him quick promotion, for he became captain
in June, 1792, lieutenant-colonel in September, 1793, brigadier two
months later, and general of division on January 18, 1794. The stern
battle of Fleurus in June, 1794, proved that the general of division was
worthy of his rank, for it was his counter-attack in the evening which
decided the fate of the day. The early years of the republican wars were
times when personal bravery, audacity, and devotion worked marvels on
the highly strung, enthusiastic republican troops, and Lefebvre had
these necessary qualifications, while his Alsatian accent and
kindheartedness won the devotion of his men. He was highly appreciated
by his commander-in-chief, Jourdan, who, in his official report, stated
"that the general added to the greatest bravery all the necessary
knowledge of a good advance guard commander, maintaining in his troops
the strictest discipline, working unceasingly to provide them with
necessaries, and always manifesting the principles of a good
republican." Unswerving devotion to duty--"I am a soldier, I must
obey"--was the guiding principle of his career, and accordingly each
commander he served under had nothing but praise for the thoroughness
with which he did his work, from the enforcement of petty regulations to
the covering of a defeated force. But in spite of this the ex-sergeant
knew his worth and did not fear to claim his due. When Hoche, in his
general order after the battle of Neuweid, stated that "the army had
taken seven standards of colours," Lefebvre naively wrote to him, "It
must be fourteen altogether, for I myself captured seven." But Hoche had
both humour and tact, and made ample amends by replying, "There were
only seven stands of colours as there is only one Lefebvre."
By 1799 seven years' continuous fighting had begun to tell on a physique
even as strong as Lefebvre's, and the general applied for lighter work
as commander of the Directory Guard, and later, for sick leave; but the
commencement of the campaign against the Archduke Charles, in the valley
of the Danube, once again stimulated his indefatigable appetite for
active service. Though suffering from scurvy and general overstrain, he
took his share in the hard fighting at Feldkirche and Ostrach, but a
severe wound received in the latter combat at last compelled him to
leave the field and go into hospital.
On his return to France he was entrusted by the Directory with the
command of the 17th military district, with Paris as its headquarters.
The task was a difficult one, as the numerous coups d'etat had shaken
both public morality and military discipline. Among other
unpleasantnesses the commander of Paris found himself on one occasion
forced to place a general officer in the Abbaye, the civil prison, for
flatly refusing to obey orders. But, difficult as his task was, the
situation became much more complicated by the sudden return of Bonaparte
from Egypt. Bonaparte arrived in Paris with the fixed determination to
assume the reins of government. It was clear to so staunch a republican
as Lefebvre that all was not well with the Republic under the Directory,
and it seemed as if Bonaparte, shimmering in the glamour of Italy and
Egypt, was the sole person capable of conciliating all parties and of
bringing the state of chronic revolution to an end. Directly he met the
famous Corsican the simple soldier fell an easy victim to his
personality; while Bonaparte was quick to perceive what a great
political asset it would be if Lefebvre, the republican of the
republicans, the embodiment of the republican virtues, could be bound a
satellite in his train. On the morning of the 18th Brumaire, the
commander of the Paris Division was the first to arrive of all the
generals whom the plotter had summoned to his house; he was puzzled to
find that troops were moving without his orders, and he entered in
considerable anger. Bonaparte at once explained the situation. The
country was in danger, foes were knocking at the door, and meanwhile the
Republic lay the prey of a pack of lawyers who were exploiting it for
their own benefit without thought of patriotism. "Now then, Lefebvre,"
said he, "you, one of the pillars of the Republic, are you going to let
it perish in the hands of these lawyers? Join me in helping to save our
beloved Republic. Look, here is the sword I carried in my hand at the
battle of the Pyramids. I give it to you as a token of my esteem and of
my confidence." Lefebvre could not resist this appeal; his warm and
generous nature responded to the artful touch; grasping the treasured
sword with tears in his eyes, he swore he was ready "to throw the
lawyers in the river." With a sigh of relief Bonaparte put his arm
through Lefebvre's and led him into his study, and for the next fourteen
years he remained, as he thought, the confidential right-hand man of the
great-hearted patriot, but in reality the tool, dupe, and stalking-horse
of a wily adventurer.
The general accompanied Napoleon to the Tuileries and listened to the
carefully chosen words: "Citizens Representatives, the Republic is
perishing; you know it well, and your decree can save it. A thousand
misfortunes on all who desire trouble and disorder. I will oust them,
aided by all the friends of liberty.... I will support liberty, aided by
General Lefebvre and General Berthier, and my comrades in arms who share
my feelings.... We wish a Republic founded on liberty, on equality, on
the sound principles of national representation. We swear this: I swear
this; I swear in my own name and in the name of my comrades in arms."
Later in the day, during the struggle at the Orangerie, it was Lefebvre
who saved Lucien Bonaparte and cleared the hall with the aid of some
grenadiers.
From the 18th Brumaire Napoleon, as First Consul, and later as Emperor,
held in Lefebvre a trump card whereby he could defeat any attempted
hostile combination of the republicans. Hence it was that, at the time
of the proclamation of the Empire, he included him in his list of
Marshals, to prove as it were that the Empire was merely another form of
the Republic. Later still, for the same reason, when he was making his
hierarchy stronger, he created him one of his new Dukes.
The immediate reward for Lefebvre's support during the coup d'etat was a
mission to the west to extinguish the civil war in La Vendee. The
general was lucky in surprising a considerable force of rebels at
Alencon, and soon fulfilled his work, and received the further reward of
a seat as Senator, which brought in an income of 35,000 francs a year.
When the list of Marshals was published he was bracketed with
Kellermann, Perignon, and Serurier as "Marshals whose sphere of duty
would lie in the Senate." As such, at the coronation of the Emperor in
Notre Dame he held the sword of Charlemagne, while Kellermann carried
the crown. Strong in his trust of him, Napoleon had, in 1803, created
him Praetor of the Senate. But fortune did not destine that he should
long enjoy his honours in peace. Thanks to his magnificent physique a
few years of rest entirely restored his health. The wound, which in 1799
had threatened to incapacitate him permanently, had completely healed,
and in 1806 he once again found himself on active service. The Emperor
knew well that the Marshal was a sergeant-major rather than a
strategist, and accordingly placed him at the head of the Guard, where
his powers of discipline could be utilised to the full without calling
on him to solve any difficult problems. At Jena the Guard had plenty of
hard fighting such as their commander loved. A few days later the
Marshal proved that the Guard could march as well as fight, when, at
nine o'clock on the evening of October 24th, the regiments marched into
Potsdam after covering forty-two miles since the morning.
Early in 1807 the Emperor entrusted the Marshal with the siege of
Dantzig, a strong fortress near the mouth of the Vistula,
well-garrisoned by a Prussian force of fourteen thousand under Marshal
Kalkreuth. Lefebvre, conscious of his lack of engineering skill, was
afraid of undertaking the task, but the Emperor promised to send him
everything necessary, and to guide him himself to the camp of
Finkenstein, and ultimately said goodbye to him with the words, "Take
courage, you also must have something to speak about in the Senate when
we return to France." The siege lasted fifty-one days, during which the
Marshal took scarcely a moment's rest: ever in the trenches, heading
every possible charge, calling out to the soldiers, "Come on, children,
it's our turn to-day," or "Come on, comrades, I am also going to have a
turn at fighting." Such treatment worked wonders with the fiery French,
but the sluggish men of Baden, who formed a considerable part of his
force, were not accustomed to be so hustled, and the Marshal's camp
manners grated on the Prince of Baden, who considered "that the
Marshal's staff was mostly composed of men of little culture, and that
his son held the first place among those who had no manners." The
Emperor had to write to his fiery lieutenant, "You treat our allies
without any tact; they are not accustomed to fire, but that will come.
Do you think that our men are as good now as in 1792--that we can be as
keen to-day after fifteen years' war? Pay what compliments you can to
the Prince of Baden ... you cannot throw down walls with the chests of
your grenadiers ... let your engineers do their work and be patient....
Your glory is to take Dantzig; when you have done that you will be
content with me." It was hard for the Marshal to show patience, for he
knew but one way to do a thing, and that was to go straight at it as
hard as he could. As one of the privates said, "The Marshal is a brave
man, only he takes us for horses." With Lannes and Mortier sent to
reinforce him, it was still more difficult to show patience. But the end
came, and on the fifty-first day of the siege Marshal Kalkreuth
surrendered, and the two other Marshals had the generosity to allow
Lefebvre to enjoy alone all the honours of the conquest.
In the next year the Emperor had determined to strengthen his throne by
the creation of a new nobility. It was important to see how Republican
France would greet this scheme, and accordingly Napoleon determined to
include Lefebvre among his new Dukes. One day the Emperor sent an
orderly officer with orders to say to the Marshal, "Monsieur le Duc, the
Emperor wishes you to breakfast with him, and asks you to come in a
quarter of an hour." The Marshal did not hear the title and merely said
he would attend. When he entered the breakfast-room the Emperor went up
to him, shook hands with him, and said, "Good-morning, Monsieur le Duc;
sit by me." The Marshal, hearing the title, thought he was joking. The
Emperor, to further mystify him, said, "Do you like chocolate, Monsieur
le Duc?" "Yes, sire," replied the Marshal, still mystified. Thereon the
Emperor went to a drawer and took out a packet labelled chocolate; but
when the Marshal opened the box he found it contained one hundred
thousand ecus in bank notes. While in the army the new Duke was warmly
congratulated on his honours, at Paris the smart ladies and Talleyrand
did their best to annoy the Duchess. Numerous were the cruel tales they
spread of her lack of breeding and of her Amazon ways; how, when the
horses bolted with her carriage, she seized the coachman by the scruff
of his neck and by main force pulled him off the seat and herself
stopped the runaways. But, quite unmoved, the Duchess pursued her
course, visiting the sick, giving away large sums to charities, lending
a helping hand to any friend in difficulties, and as usual prefacing her
remarks by "When I used to do the washing."