FRIEDLAND

The small town of Friedland lies in northeastern Europe, in East Prussia, on the left bank of the River Alle. It is built on a small peninsula of land, bounded on the south and east by the twisting Alle, on the north by the lake and marsh of the tributary Mill Stream. By land, it opens to the west. In that direction, back from the town stretches an immense plain, which slopes gently upward from the river into the distance. Around and beyond the plain, about two miles away, lies a forest. In a vast, irregular semicircle, with only a few breaks, it sweeps from the River Alle south of the town, around to the west, and then to the north until again its trees fringe the river. In the plain thus enclosed on three sides by a forest and on the fourth by a river, there is only one notable irregularity: the Mill Stream, scarcely fordable, from the forest in the west to Friedland, cuts across at the bottom of a steep ravine. It divides the plain into two sections, northern and southern.

Along that edge of the forest which borders the plain lie three villages: to the south of Friedland, on the river, the village of Sortlack; to the west, Posthenen, on the road to Eylau; to the northwest, Henrichsdorflf, on the road to Königsberg. At the opening of the nineteenth century these villages and Friedland were inhabited by Germans, then a frugal and industrious race. By good farming, which requires character as well as skill, their ancestors and they had raised the Friedland region to a high level of well-being, cleanliness, and comfort. And in the spring of 1807, as they had done for many years before, they went into the Friedland plain, plowed and harrowed and sowed rye and wheat. The crop prospered. By the middle of June it stood so high that a kneeling man would be concealed behind it. Except then for gardens along the river, the entire plain was a vast field of grain stretching away to the forests which bound the horizon.

Now, it so happened that on June 13, 1807, in the Friedland area just beyond the horizon to the south and southwest, armies were marching. Coming down the Alle from the south, the Russian Army was retreating along the river-road which passed Friedland on the opposite bank. Coming cross-country from the southwest, the French, in pursuit, were scattered along a road which passed from the town of Eylau, Napoleon's headquarters, through the Friedland forest, through the village of Posthenen on the edge of that forest, and then across the two-mile plain into Friedland. When the Russian advance cavalry arrived opposite Friedland at 3 P.M., June 13, they found the town occupied by a French regiment of hussars. The Russian cavalry crossed the river over a bridge, attacked, drove out the French, took prisoners, and occupied the town. From the prisoners, the Russian commander, General Bennigsen, who came up that night with the rest of the army, learned that only the French advance guard, a division or two, were on the Friedland plain. He calculated, therefore, that he had time to cross the river with part of his army, whip the advance guard, and make off before Napoleon and the French Army could catch him. In accordance with this calculation, the next morning at dawn, he ordered a division to cross the river and attack; that proving insufficient, he ordered another division across, and another, and another, and so on. As a result, through most of that June morning his entire army of forty-six thousand men, like grains of sand in the neck of a huge hourglass, trickled across the long, frame town bridge and the two pontoon army bridges, worked their way through the narrow streets of Friedland, and then fanned out into the plain beyond.

On the French side, opposed to Bennigsen was first of all General Oudinot, a tall, dark, handsome man in uniform, who, though forty, was still slender, erect, and full of grace, a commander of men. His high forehead; his eyes half-closed under eyebrows that were slightly raised; his brown eyes, which constantly shifted and wandered; his serious mien—a smile was rare and fleeting though gracious—all gave him in repose the air of a dreamer. But in action he was impetuous and formidable. Napoleon had christened his division la colonne infernale.

Oudinot's immediate superior was Marshal Lannes, also present, a man of middling height, not much taller than Napoleon; a Gascon, that is to say, lively, excitable, cool only in danger; daring in action; loyal in peace, but in war artful, sly, insatiate of wiles. Add to these a quality less typically Gascon: a desire to be better. As an obscure, youthful lieutenant he had demonstrated a desire to learn; as a marshal of France in times of peace he still at night studied his profession. He was a growing man.

Also opposed to General Bennigsen was General Grouchy, in the absence of Murat commander-in-chief of the French cavalry, a sensitive, well-bred soldier of an old noble family, a failure in his own opinion. His misfortune (in part) was this: though he had fought capably in all the wars of the Revolution and the Empire from 1792 to 1807, he had never fought under the eyes of Napoleon, never had his merit recognized. Thus, in 1793, when Bonaparte, a thin, energetic artillery captain of twenty-four, was serving effectively at the siege of Toulon, Grouchy, three years older, was general of a brigade in the Vendée, and was just being dismissed from the army for having once been a noble. In 1796, when Bonaparte was offered command of the Army of Italy, Grouchy, now general of a division, was offered the inspectorship of the cavalry of the Army of Italy. Bonaparte accepted; Grouchy refused to serve under an unknown of so slight a reputation. In the ensuing campaign Bonaparte, knowing the exhilaration of swift successful action and of swifter thought, defeated army after army, swept to victory and to glory; Grouchy, faithful and industrious chief of staff of the stagnant Army of the North, cursed himself for rejecting the inspectorship, bit his nails in envy. The campaign in Italy over, Bonaparte left with an army for adventures in Egypt; Grouchy, now too late, was transferred to Italy, where he cunningly intrigued the abdication of the King of Savoy, and later led a brilliant rear-guard action against the Austrians, in which he was wounded and taken prisoner. Bonaparte, back from Egypt, overthrew the French Republic, became First Consul, dictator of France; Grouchy remained general of a division. In 1800 Bonaparte crossed the St. Bernard, entered into Italy, defeated the Austrians at Marengo; Grouchy, on his return to France, fought brilliantly in this campaign, not, however, in Italy, but under Moreau at Hohenlinden. In 1805 Bonaparte, now Emperor Napoleon I, crowned in the presence of the Pope, again fought the Austrians, smashed them at Austerlitz; Grouchy, still general of a division, nearing forty, was away from the field observing another Austrian force.

During these years, furthermore, Grouchy saw others, in his opinion less worthy than he, promoted over him. Grouchy, disgusted, was ready to quit. But Napoleon, ever a master in kindling the ambition of men, graciously granted his request that his son Alphonse...