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, FranÇois 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 rÉgime 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 "debutÉ" for "deputÉ." 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'AbbÉville, 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'AbbÉville 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 gÉnÉral!" 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."