From 1814 to the day of his death the Duke of Dantzig spent the greater part of his time at his estate at Combault, in the department of the Seine and Marne, dispensing that hospitality which he and his wife loved to shower on all who had met with misfortune, and many a poor soldier and half-pay officer owed his life and what prosperity he had to the generous charity of the Duke and Duchess of Dantzig. His death on September 14, 1820, two days after that of his old friend Kellermann, was due to dropsy, arising from rheumatic gout brought on by the strain of the Russian campaign.
The greatness of the Duke of Dantzig lay not so much in his soldierly capacity as in his personal character. His military renown rested largely on his ability to carry out, without hesitation and jealousy, the commands of others. By his personality he was able to maintain the strictest discipline and exact the last ounce from his troops without raising a murmur. His men loved him, for they knew that he shared all their hardships and that his fingers were soiled with no perquisites or secret booty. It was no empty boast when he wrote to the Directory asking "bread for himself and rewards for his officers." Though raised to ducal rank he never lost his sense of proportion, and delighted to give his memories of "when I was sergeant" to his friends and to the officers of his staff. Still, he was intensely proud of his success, which he had won by years of hard work, and he knew how to put in their place those whose fame rested solely on the deeds of their ancestors, telling a young boaster, "Don't be so proud of your ancestors; I am an ancestor myself." Though he ever looked an "old Alsatian camp boy," even in his gorgeous ducal robes; though his manners were rough and he would not hesitate to refuse a lift to a lady to a review, with the words, "Go to blazes; we did not come here to take your wife out driving"—he was the true example of the best type of republican soldier, fiery, full of theatrical zeal, absolutely unselfish, and animated solely by love of France.
XXIII
NICOLAS CHARLES OUDINOT, MARSHAL, DUKE OF REGGIO
Nicolas Charles Oudinot, the son of a brewer of Bar-le-Duc, was born on April 23, 1767. From his earliest days he showed that spirit of bravado which later distinguished him among the many brave men who attained the dignity of Marshal. Though kind-hearted and affectionate, his fiery character led him into much disobedience, and his turbulent nature caused many a sorrowful hour to his parents. Still it was with sore hearts that, despite their entreaties, they saw him march gaily off in 1784 to enlist in the regiment of Médoc. But two years later he returned home, tired of garrison duty, and, greatly to his parents' delight, entered the trade. When, in 1789, the good people of Bar-le-Duc began to organise a company of the National Guard, young Oudinot was chosen as captain, and for the next two years threw himself heart and soul into politics, to the neglect of the brewery. But much as he approved of the spirit of the Revolution, he was no advocate of mob rule, and he used his company of citizen soldiers to put down all disturbances in the town. Later still, in 1794, when invalided home from the front, he used a short and sharp method with an enthusiastic supporter of the Terror; in his anger he seized a large dish of haricot and effectually stopped the praises of Hébert by hurling it in the Jacobin's face. In September, 1791, the call to arms summoned the fire-eating captain of the National Guard to sterner scenes. He at once entered the volunteers, and it was as a lieutenant-colonel of the third battalion of the Meuse that he set out on active service which was to last almost continuously for twenty-two years, and from which he was to emerge with the proud rank of Marshal, the title of Duke, and the honourable scars of no less than thirty-four wounds.
His campaigning began auspiciously with the action at Bitche, when, with his battalion of volunteers, he captured seven hundred Prussians and a standard. The hard fighting in the Rhine valley in 1793 added greatly to his reputation; but it was at Morlantier in June, 1794, that his gallant action made his name resound throughout the French armies. The division of General Ambert was attacked on both flanks. Oudinot with the second regiment of the line formed the advance guard, but, not perceiving the plight of the main body, he continued to advance. The enemy surrounded him with six regiments of cavalry. Forming square, he repulsed every assault, and ultimately fought his way back to camp with but slight loss, and recaptured eight French standards which the enemy had seized when they surprised Ambert's division. Ten days later he was promoted general of brigade. But, in spite of his glorious exploit, the officers of the regiment of Picardy, the senior regiment of the old royal army, were disgusted at being commanded by a young brigadier, as yet but twenty-seven years old, and sprung from the ranks. Calling the disaffected officers together, the general thus addressed them: "Gentlemen, is it because I do not bear an historic name that you wish to throw me over for your old titled chiefs, or is it because you think I am too young to hold command? Wait till the next engagement and then judge. If then you think that I cannot stand fire I promise to hand over the command to one more worthy." After the next engagement there were no more murmurs against the general, and officers and men were ready to follow him to the death. While Oudinot thus won the love and respect of his command, he requited them with equal love. But his way of showing it was characteristic of the man. As he used to say in later years, "Ah, how I loved them; I know full well I loved them! I led them all to death." For in his eyes a glorious death on the field of battle was what the true soldier desired above all things. In August, 1794, a fall from his horse which broke his leg placed him in hospital for some months, and he could not return to the front till September, 1795. He arrived in time to take part in the capture of Mannheim, but a month later, at Neckerau, he was ridden down by a charge of the enemy's cavalry, receiving five sabre cuts and being taken prisoner. After three months' captivity at Ulm he was exchanged. The campaigns of 1796 and 1797 on the Danube added to the number of his wounds. In 1799 he served under Masséna in Switzerland, and gained his step as general of division. His new commander formed so high an opinion of his capacity that he appointed him chief of his staff, and took him with him when transferred to the Army of Italy. It was a new rôle for the fiery Oudinot, but he played it well, and Masséna gave him but his due when he wrote to the Directory, "I owe the greatest praise to General Oudinot, my chief of the staff, whose fiery nature, though restrained to endure the laborious work of the office, breaks out again, ever ready to hand, on the field of battle; he has assisted me in all my movements, and has seconded me to perfection." During the disastrous campaign in Italy in 1800 he earned the further thanks of his chief. He it was who broke the blockade at Genoa, and penetrating through the English cruisers, successfully carried the orders to Suchet on the Var, and returned to the beleaguered city to share the privations of the army. By now his name was well known to friend and foe alike, and his chivalrous nature was admired, even by his enemies. But an episode occurred during the siege which, for some time, caused his name to be execrated by the Austrians. The French had captured three thousand prisoners during the sorties round Genoa. At the command of Masséna, Oudinot wrote to General Ott to explain that, owing to famine, it was impossible to give them nourishment, and asking him to make arrangements for feeding them. Ott replied that the siege would end before they could starve. With their own soldiers dying of hunger at their posts, the French could spare but little food for the miserable prisoners, and when the town capitulated there was hardly one left alive. But the burden of this calamity falls on General Ott and Masséna, and not on Oudinot, who could only carry out the orders he received.
After the surrender, Oudinot went home on sick leave, but was back in Italy in time to take part in the last phase of the war under General Brune. On December 26th, at Monzembano, he had an opportunity of showing his dashing courage. An Austrian battery, suddenly coming into action, threw the French into disorder. Oudinot dashed forward, collected a few troopers, galloped across the bridge straight at the Austrian guns, and captured one of them with his own hands. A few days later he was sent home to Paris with a copy of the armistice signed on January 16, 1801. Arriving in Paris, the general was received with great warmth by the First Consul, who gave him a sword of honour and the cannon which he had captured at Monzembano.
During the years of peace which followed the treaty of Lunéville, General Oudinot fell entirely under the influence of Napoleon. His frank, chivalrous nature was captivated by the bold personality of the Corsican, so great in war, so attractive in peace. The First Consul rewarded his affection by giving him the posts of inspector-general of infantry and cavalry. While not engaged in these duties, or in attendance at the court of Paris, the general spent his leisure hours at his home at Bar-le-Duc. There he was the idol of the populace; his bust adorned the hôtel de ville, and his fellow-citizens were never tired of singing his praise and repeating the stories of his marvellous adventures and daring escapades. But no one who first saw him could believe that this was Oudinot, the hero of all these marvellous tales. There was nothing of the swashbuckler about this aristocratic-looking man, spare, of medium height, whose pale, intellectual face, set off by a pair of brown moustaches, revealed a rather gentle, gracious expression, over which flashed occasionally a fugitive smile. It was only those piercing, flashing eyes which revealed his real character. Still, it was easy to understand how, with his heroic exploits, he had fascinated both friend and foe, and gained for himself the title of the young Bayard. By his first wife the general had two sons and two daughters. The daughters married early, Generals Pajol and Lorencz, but it was his sons who were his pride. He had sent for his eldest boy, at the age of eight, to accompany him on the Zurich campaign, and the lad had at that age to perform all the duties of a subaltern officer. During the year of peace both boys were constantly with their father, who spent his time superintending their military studies and building for himself a house at Bar-le-Duc. From this patriarchal life he was recalled, in 1804, to take command of the chosen division of picked grenadiers which had been organised at Arras by Junot. The division, so well known to history as "Oudinot's Grenadiers," or the "Infernal Column," was composed of selected men from every regiment, and next to the Guard, was the finest division in the imperial army. In the campaign of 1805 the division formed part of Lannes' corps, and covered itself with distinction at Ulm, and again at Austerlitz, where Oudinot was present, though not in command. He had been wounded at Hollabrünn, and sent to hospital, and his division entrusted to Duroc, the Grand Marshal of the palace. But when he heard of the approaching engagement, the fire-eating soldier could not be held back, and on the eve of the battle he arrived in camp. Duroc chivalrously offered to give up command, but Oudinot, who was satisfied as long as he saw fighting, would not hear of this. "My dear Marshal," he said, "remain at the head of my brave grenadiers; we will fight side by side." After the treaty of Pressburg he was sent to Switzerland, to take possession of Neuchâtel, which had been ceded to France by Prussia, to form a fief for Marshal Berthier. The Neuchâtelois were furious at being treated as mere pawns in the game, and trouble was expected. Fortunately Oudinot possessed great commonsense. He saw that a timely concession might bind the proud Swiss to their new lord. The people of Neuchâtel depended almost entirely on their trade with England, and he wrung from Napoleon the promise that this trade should not be interfered with. So grateful were the Swiss that they passed a law making Oudinot a citizen of Neuchâtel. The general returned from his diplomatic triumph in time to command his grenadiers in the Prussian campaign of 1806, and gained fresh laurels at Jena, Ostralenka, Dantzig and Friedland. At Dantzig, with his own hand, he killed a Russian sergeant who had caught a French cavalry colonel in an ambush. At Friedland he was with Lannes when the Marshal surprised the Russian rear, and held them pinned against the town until Napoleon could draw in his troops and overwhelm them. From six in the evening till twelve next day the grenadiers fought with stubborn tenacity. At last the Emperor arrived on the field. Oudinot, with his coat hanging in ribbons from musket shots, his horse covered with blood, dashed up to the Emperor, "Hasten, Sire," he cried; "my grenadiers are all but spent; but give me some reinforcements and I will hurl all the Russians into the river." Napoleon replied, "General, you have surpassed yourself: you seem to be everywhere; but you need not worry yourself any more. It is my part to finish this affair."