It was clear that Pfuel, testy and sarcastic at the best of times, was particularly incensed today at their effrontery in going out without him to inspect his camp and subject it to criticism. Prince Andrey was able to draw on his experiences at Austerlitz and use this brief encounter with Pfuel to form a clear impression of the man’s personality. Pfuel was one of those hopelessly opinionated, arrogant men who would go to the stake for their own ideas, self-assured as only a German can be, because only a German could be self-assured on the basis of an abstract idea – science, the supposed knowledge of absolute truth. A Frenchman is self-assured because he sees himself as devastatingly charming, mentally and physically, to men and women alike. An Englishman is self-assured on the grounds that he is a citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and also because as an Englishman he always knows the right thing to do and everything he does, because he is Englishman, must be right. An Italian is self-assured because he gets excited and easily forgets himself and everybody else. A Russian is self-assured because he knows nothing, and doesn’t want to know anything because he doesn’t believe you can know anything completely. A self-assured German is the worst of the lot, the most stolid and the most disgusting, because he imagines he knows the truth through a branch of science that is entirely his invention, though he sees it as absolute truth.
Pfuel was clearly this kind of man. He had his science – the theory of oblique movement – which he had deduced from the wars of Frederick the Great, and everything he came across in today’s military history seemed to him the most preposterous barbarity, a series of ugly confrontations with so many blunders on both sides that these wars were not worthy of the name of war because they didn’t conform to his theory, did not lend themselves to scientific study.
In 1806 Pfuel had been one of those behind the plan of campaign that ended in Jena and Auerstadt, but he failed to see in the outcome of that war the slightest indication that his theory might be flawed. On the contrary, by his reckoning the entire debacle was due to infringements of his theory, and he used to say with typical relish and sarcasm, ‘I told you the whole damn thing would go wrong.’ Pfuel was one of those theorists who love their theory so dearly they lose sight of the aim of all theory, which is to work out in practice. He was so much in love with theory that he hated all practice and didn’t want to know about it. He positively rejoiced in failure, because failure was due to practical infringements of his theory, which went to show how right the theory was.
He exchanged a few words about the present war with Prince Andrey and Chernyshev, his attitude being that of a man who knows in advance it’s all going to go wrong, and who doesn’t particularly mind if it does. This was eloquently confirmed by the uncombed tufts of hair sticking up on the back of his head, and the hurriedly brushed locks at his temples.
He strode off into the next room, where his deep voice could soon be heard growling away.
CHAPTER 11
Prince Andrey’s eyes were still on the departing Pfuel when Count Bennigsen came bustling into the room, gave Bolkonsky a passing nod and walked straight through into the study, issuing some instructions to his adjutant as he went. The Tsar was not far behind, and Bennigsen had hurried on ahead to get one or two things ready and be there to receive him. Chernyshev and Prince Andrey went out on to the porch. The Tsar was there looking weary as he dismounted. The Marchese Paulucci was speaking to him. The Tsar was listening with his head tilted to the left, but he didn’t look pleased with Paulucci, who was holding forth with tremendous passion. The Tsar took a step forward, obviously anxious to bring the conversation to an end, but the excited Italian followed him in, red in the face and still chattering away in defiance of all etiquette.
‘And the man who advised this camp at Drissa . . .’ Paulucci was addressing the Tsar in French as his Majesty climbed the steps, saw Prince Andrey and stared closely at a new face. ‘As for him, sire,’ Paulucci persisted in sheer desperation, hardly able to contain himself, ‘the man who devised this camp at Drissa, I see no alternative to the madhouse or the gallows.’ The Tsar was not prepared to go on listening and didn’t seem to have heard what the Italian had been saying. He now recognized Bolkonsky and addressed him graciously:
‘I’m so pleased to see you. Go on in where they are meeting and wait for me there.’
The Tsar proceeded into the study. He was followed by Prince Pyotr Volkonsky and Baron Stein, and the door closed behind them. Prince Andrey took advantage of the Tsar’s permission and went through into the drawing-room where the council had assembled accompanied by Paulucci, whom he knew from Turkey.
