Part 28

Hoche died, and Grouchy, who under his influence had disapproved of the policy of France towards the Italian States, at once accepted employment in Italy. He soon had to rue his decision, for he found himself entrusted with the task of using underhand means to drive the King of Sardinia from his country. Still, he obeyed his orders to the letter. During negotiations he secretly introduced French troops into the citadel at Turin and then seized the fortresses of Novara, Alessandria, and Chiasso. Meanwhile he terrified the unfortunate monarch by announcing the arrival of imaginary columns of troops, suborned the King's Council, and so worked on the feelings of the bewildered sovereign that he escaped by night from his palace and fled across the sea. But though their King had deserted them, the Piedmontese did not tamely submit, and for the next few months the general was busy tracking out and capturing the numerous members of the secret societies who were avenging their country by cutting the throats of Frenchmen. While striking with a heavy hand at these conspirators, Grouchy was level-headed enough to understand that the proper method of tackling the problem was to remove the grievance. In his opinion it was not the people so much as the Church which was opposed to the French, and accordingly he did his best to get Joubert to issue a proclamation that there should be no interference with religion. Still, the situation must have been galling to a man of culture and a theoretical liberal, for, while forcing democratic institutions on an unwilling people, he had at the same time to strip their capital of all objects of art; and while issuing proclamations for the freedom of religion he had to arrange for the passage of the Pope on his way to captivity. In May, 1799, the general was recalled from his governorship of Turin, for the Austrians and Russians were invading Lombardy and Joubert was concentrating his forces. The campaign, as far as Grouchy was concerned, was short, for while attempting to stem the flight of the left wing after the battle of Novi he was ridden over and captured by the Allies. Four sabre cuts, one bullet wound, and several bayonet thrusts kept him in hospital for some time; when he was well enough to be moved he was sent to Graetz, and it was not till a year later--in June, 1800--that his exchange was effected. But he soon had his revenge on the Austrians, for in the autumn he was despatched to join the army under Moreau, which was operating on the Danube, and arrived at headquarters in time to take part in the battle of Hohenlinden. In the face of a blinding snowstorm Grouchy's division drove back the main column of the enemy, and after hours of murderous hand-to-hand fighting in the forest, he shared with Ney the honour of the last charge which drove the enemy in hopeless rout.

It was on his return from Hohenlinden that the ex-Count met Bonaparte. The First Consul, who aimed at conciliating the old nobility, made much of him, employed him on a confidential mission to Italy, and nominated him inspector-general of cavalry. This post admirably suited Grouchy, who was a horseman by nature and a cavalry soldier by instinct. Later, on the formation of the Army of the Ocean, he was appointed to the command of an infantry division in Marmont's corps in Holland, and it was with Marmont that he made the campaign of 1805. In October, 1806, he was summoned from Italy to a more important command. The Grand Army was advancing on Prussia, and Napoleon had need of capable leaders to command his vast masses of cavalry. Grouchy was entrusted with the second division of dragoons of the cavalry corps under Murat and played a prominent part in the battle of Prinzlow and the pursuit to Luebeck. At Eylau he had a narrow escape: his charger was killed in the middle of the melee and he was only saved by the devotion of his aide-de-camp; though much shaken, he was able to resume command of his division, and distinguished himself by his fierce charges in the blinding snow. At Friedland a chance occurred for which his capacity proved fully equal. Murat was absent at Koenigsberg trying to get across the enemy's rear, and Grouchy was in command of all the reserve cavalry at the moment the advance guard interrupted the Russian retreat. It was his admirable handling of the cavalry under Lannes's directions which held the Russians in check for sixteen hours, until Napoleon was able to concentrate his divisions and give the Russians the coup-de-grace. The Emperor showed his gratitude by presenting the general with the Grand Cross of Baden, investing him with the Cordon of the Legion of Honour, and granting him the domain of Nowawies, in the department of Posen.

The following year, 1808, saw Grouchy, now a Count of the Empire, with Murat in Spain, acting as governor of Madrid. But when, in the autumn, Joseph evacuated all the western provinces, Grouchy, whose health had been much shaken by the Polish campaign, was granted leave of absence and took care not to be sent back, for he had seen enough of the Spanish to foresee the terrible difficulties of guerilla warfare; moreover, the annexation of the country was contrary to his ideas of political justice. When the war with Austria was imminent Napoleon sent him to Italy to command the cavalry of the viceroy's army. With Prince Eugene he fought through Styria and Carinthia and distinguished himself greatly at the battle of Raab. At Wagram his cavalry was attached to Davout's corps, and his fierce charges, which helped to break the Austrian left, brought him again under the notice of the Emperor, who showed his appreciation by appointing him colonel-general of chasseurs.

In 1812 the Count was summoned once again to the field, to command the third corps of reserve cavalry with the Grand Army in Russia. At Moskowa his cuirassiers, sabre in hand, drove the Russians out of the great redoubt, but Grouchy himself was seriously wounded. During the retreat from Moscow he commanded one of the "Sacred Bands" of officers who personally guarded the Emperor, but his health, never good, completely broke down under the strain and he was allowed to return straight home from Vilna. A year elapsed before he had sufficiently recovered to take the field, and it was not till the beginning of 1814 that he was fit for service. During the campaign in France, first under Victor and later with Marmont, he commanded the remnant of the reserve cavalry; but on March 7th at Craonne he was once again so badly wounded that he had to throw up his command.

During the Restoration Grouchy remained at his home; his relations with the Bourbons were not cordial, and he bitterly resented the loss of his title of colonel-general of chasseurs. Accordingly, when Napoleon returned from Elba and France seemed to welcome him with open arms, in spite of having accepted the Cross of St. Louis, he had no scruple in answering the Emperor's summons. He was entrusted with the operations against the Duc d'Angouleme round Lyons, but disliked the task, for he remembered the fate of the Duc d'Enghien, and in spite of Napoleon's protests that he only desired to capture the Duke in order to make the Austrians send back the Empress, Grouchy determined that, if possible, while doing everything to defeat the royalists, he would not capture d'Angouleme. Unfortunately, the Duke refused the opportunity to escape which was offered him, and Grouchy had to make him a prisoner. However, Napoleon, anxious to stand well with the Powers of Europe, at once ordered him to be set free. At the same time he sent Grouchy to command the Army of the Alps, giving him his Marshal's baton. The new Marshal was delighted with his promotion; he had now served for twenty years as general of division, and although only forty-nine, had practically given up all hope of promotion. But scarcely had he reached his new command when he was recalled to Paris.

With Murat in disgrace and Bessieres dead, the Emperor had no great cavalry leader on whom he could rely, and, remembering the new Marshal's exploits at Friedland and Wagram, and his staunchness in 1814, he determined to entrust him with the command of the reserve cavalry. Unfortunately for Napoleon and Grouchy, the exigencies of the campaign forced the Emperor to divide his army; so, while entrusting Ney with a part of his troops, with orders to pursue the English, and keeping the Guard and reserves under his immediate control, he gave Grouchy the command of two corps of infantry and one of cavalry; in all, some thirty-three thousand men. The appointment was an unfortunate one, for the Marshal, though in many respects a good cavalry leader, had never before had the command of a large body of mixed troops, and even his cavalry successes had been obtained when under the orders of a superior: at Friedland he was under Lannes; at Wagram under Davout; at Moskowa under Eugene; and in 1814 under either Victor or Marmont. But what was most unfortunate about the selection was that Grouchy had not enough personal authority to enforce his orders on his corps commanders, and the fiery Vandamme not only despised but hated him because he had received the baton which he hoped was to have been his, while Girard was a personal enemy. At Ligny, where Napoleon himself supervised the attack, all went well, but from the moment fighting ceased difficulties began. Immediately after the battle the Emperor entrusted the Marshal with the pursuit of the Prussians, but Pajol, who commanded his light cavalry, carried out his reconnaissance in a perfunctory manner, and reported that the Prussians had retreated towards Namur. Grouchy received this news at 4 a.m. on June 17th, but he did not dare to disturb the Emperor's rest, and it was 8 a.m. before he could see him and demand detailed orders. Napoleon, trusting to Pajol's report, thought that the Prussians were absolutely demoralised and were leaving the theatre of war, and so he kept the Marshal talking about Paris and politics till 11 a.m. Consequently it was 11.30 before he received exact orders, penned by Bertrand, which told him to proceed to Gembloux, keeping his forces concentrated; to reconnoitre the different roads leading to Namur and Maestricht, and to inform the Emperor of the Prussians' intentions, adding, "It is important to know what Bluecher and Wellington mean to do, and whether they prefer to unite their armies in order to cover Brussels and Liege, by trying their fortunes in another battle." Bad staff directions and heavy rains retarded the advance, and it took six hours for the troops to cover the nine miles to Gembloux, where at eight in the evening Grouchy heard that part of the Prussians had fallen back on Wavre, which meant that they might still unite with the English to cover Brussels. He at once reported this to the Emperor, adding that Bluecher had retired on Liege and the artillery on Namur. But, in spite of the fact that on the evening of the seventeenth Napoleon knew that this was a mistake, and that the Prussians were actually massed round Wavre, it was not till 10 a.m. on the morning of Waterloo that he sent to the Marshal informing him of the Prussians' concentration, and telling him that "he must therefore move thither (_i.e._, to Wavre) in order to approach us, and to push before him any Prussians who may have stopped at Wavre." This was the exact course which Grouchy had determined to pursue. It is therefore quite clear that neither the Emperor nor the Marshal had dreamed that Bluecher would attempt to give any assistance to the English in their position at Waterloo. At 11 a.m., when his columns were just approaching Wavre, the Marshal heard the commencement of the cannonade at Waterloo. Girard entreated him to march to the sound of the cannon, but Grouchy had what he considered distinct orders to pursue the Prussians; he was now in touch with them, and with a force of thirty-three thousand men he did not dare to make a flank march in the face of what, he was becoming convinced, was the whole Prussian army. At 5 p.m. he received Napoleon's despatch, hastily written at 1 p.m., ordering him to turn westward and crush the Prussian corps which was marching on the Emperor's right rear, but by then his main force was heavily engaged at Wavre, and even if he had been able to despatch part of his force it could not have arrived at Mont St. Jean till long after the end of the battle.

On the morning of the nineteenth the Marshal was preparing to pursue Thielmann's corps, which, on the previous evening, he had driven from Wavre, when he heard of the catastrophe at Waterloo. He immediately stopped the pursuit, and, by rapid marching, reached Namur before the Allies could cut him off, and, by a skilful retreat, brought back his thirty-three thousand men to Paris before the enemy arrived at the gates. But instead of the thanks he had expected he found himself saddled with the blame of the loss of Waterloo. The disaster, however, clearly rested on the Emperor, whose orders were vague, and who had not realised the extraordinary moral courage of Bluecher and the stubbornness of the Prussians, and if Napoleon did not foresee this he could not blame Grouchy for being equally blind. The Marshal did all that a mediocre man could do. He carefully carried out the orders given him, trusting, no doubt, too much to the letter, too little to the spirit. But long years spent in a subordinate position under a military hierarchy like that of the Empire were bound to stifle all initiative, and it was not to be supposed that the man who, twenty years earlier, had failed to rise to the occasion in Ireland would, after at last gaining his Marshal's baton, risk his reputation by marching, like Desaix at Marengo, to the sound of the guns, across the front of an enemy vastly superior to himself, through a difficult country partially waterlogged and intercepted by deep broad streams, contrary to what seemed his definite orders.

The Marshal's career really ended on the abdication of the Emperor, though he was appointed by the Provisional Government to the command of the remains of the Army of the North, and in this capacity proclaimed the Emperor's son as Napoleon II. On gaining Paris he found himself subordinate to Davout, an old enemy. Accordingly he threw up his command and retired into private life. After his conduct during the Hundred Days he could expect no mercy from the returned Bourbons, and was glad to escape abroad. Included in the general pardon, he returned to France in 1818, but his marshalate was annulled, and he never regained his baton, though on the accession of Charles X. he was actually received at court. But though the King might forgive, his favourites and ministers could not forget, and in December, 1824, he was included among the fifty generals of Napoleon who were placed on the retired list, an action which General Foy shrewdly remarked was "a cannon-shot charged at Waterloo, fired ten years after the battle, and pointed direct at its mark." Like many another of the Marshals, the veteran retained his health and faculties for many years, and defended his character and actions and criticised his enemies with the same clear logic which had so powerfully contributed to his early advancement; for the ex-Marshal wielded the pen as easily as the sword. It was not till 1847 that death carried off the sturdy old warrior at the age of eighty-one.

XXI

FRANCOIS CHRISTOPHE KELLERMANN, MARSHAL, DUKE OF VALMY

When old institutions suddenly collapse with a crash; when all is confusion and chaos, and the lines of reconstruction are as yet veiled in uncertainty; when people suspect their old rulers and are shy of those who would set themselves up as their new directors, there comes an interval before genius and wile can organise their forces, when character, and character alone can shepherd the people scattered like sheep on the mountains. Such was the case in France in September, 1792. The old constitution had foundered, sweeping away in its ruin the order and discipline of the royal army. The officers had either fled or been deposed by their men, and such few as remained were held "suspect." The new officers, chosen by their fellows, had but little authority. The staff of the army was changed weekly to suit the whim of some civil or military self-seeker, at a time when France was at war with the great military powers of Europe. It was little wonder, therefore, that the Prussians and Austrians looked forward to the campaign of 1792 as a military promenade. They knew better even than the War Minister at Paris how debauched were the regular troops of France, how unreliable and contemptible were the few thousand old men and boys who rejoiced in the name of volunteers, and they never for a moment believed that the French generals would be able to force their men to stand and fight. But they had calculated wrongly. They had not learned that in war a man is everything; they had not grasped how deeply the spirit of discipline had been engrained in the old royal army. Fortunately for France she had two men of character to fall back upon; and aided by their example, on September 20th the regulars of France stood firm before the famous Prussian army. The two men were Dumouriez and Kellermann. Dumouriez had brains and character, Kellermann character and stolid imperturbability.

Descended from an old Saxon family long domiciled in Alsace, Francois 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.

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.