To the third party, which the Tsar trusted most of all, belonged the courtiers, who kept trying to reconcile the first two tendencies. Men of this party - mainly civilians, including Arakcheyev - spoke and reasoned like men pretending to have convictions they did not possess. They admitted that war, especially with a genius like Bonaparte (by now they had stopped calling him Buonaparte), did undoubtedly call for profound theoretical consideration and profound scientific knowledge, at which Pfuel was a genius. But at the same time you had to admit that theorists could often be a bit narrow-minded, so you couldn't trust them completely; you had to lend an ear to what Pfuel's opponents were saying, and also to what was being said by practical men who had experience of war, and then go for a happy medium. Men of this party insisted on sticking to Pfuel's plan for holding the camp at Drissa, but changing his disposition of the other two armies. This meant that neither one thing nor the other could be achieved, but the men of this party still thought this was the best plan.
The fourth tendency was the one that had as its leading representative the grand duke and heir-apparent, who had been brought down to earth unforgettably at Austerlitz, having ridden out at the head of his guards in helmet and white jacket as if he was reviewing the troops, fully expecting to slay the French with great panache, only to find himself unexpectedly caught up in the front line, from the turmoil of which he had no little difficulty in extricating himself. The men of this party displayed sincerity with all its merit and deficiencies. They were scared of Napoleon, they were aware of his strength and their own weakness, and they readily admitted it. What they said was, 'Nothing but sorrow, disgrace and ruin can come of this war! We've lost Vilna, we've lost Vitebsk, and we're about to lose Drissa. The only sensible thing left for us to do is sue for peace, and as soon as possible, before we get driven out of Petersburg!'
This view was widespread throughout the higher echelons of the military, and it had its supporters in Petersburg too - one of them being the chancellor, Rumyantsev, who had his own reasons of state for supporting the peace movement.
The fifth group were those who supported Barclay de Tolly, not so much as a man, but as war minister and commander-in-chief. 'Whatever he may be,' they would say, always beginning with this proviso, 'he's an honest, practical man, and there's no one better. Give him the real power, because you can't win a war without unity in the high command, and he'll show what he's made of, as he did in Finland. If our army is still strong and well organized, and has pulled back to the Drissa without being defeated, we owe it all to Barclay. If Barclay is replaced by Bennigsen now, all will be lost. Bennigsen showed how useless he is as early as 1807.' This was the line taken by the fifth party.
The sixth party, the Bennigsenites, said the exact opposite: in the last analysis there was no one more capable and experienced than Bennigsen, and wherever you turned you always came back to him. The men of this party claimed that the Russian retirement to Drissa had been nothing less than a humiliating defeat, one mistake after another. 'The more mistakes they make,' these men said, 'the better things will be. It'll take them less time to realize we can't go on like this. We want none of your Barclays, we want someone like Bennigsen, who showed his mettle in 1807, and even Napoleon gave him his due. He's a man people would be glad to see in power. There's only one Bennigsen.'
The seventh class were the sort of people who always circulate around monarchs, especially young ones, and there were plenty of them around Alexander - generals and adjutants, not only passionately devoted to the Tsar as Emperor, but sincerely and disinterestedly worshipping him as a man, just as Nikolay Rostov had worshipped him in 1805, and seeing him as the embodiment of every virtue and human quality. These persons admired the Tsar's modesty in declining command of the army, but thought he was taking modesty too far. They shared a single purpose and demand: their adored Tsar should set aside his needless diffidence, and publicly proclaim that he was placing himself at the head of the army and taking over the staff of the commander-in-chief, and from now on he would listen as necessary to advisers steeped in theory and practice but he personally would lead the troops, and they would be roused by him to new heights of enthusiasm.
The eighth and largest group, vast in size, outnumbering the others ninety-nine to one, consisted of people who didn't want peace or war, offensive action or defensive camps at Drissa or anywhere else, or Barclay, or the Tsar or Pfuel or Bennigsen; all they wanted, the only thing that mattered to them, was making as much money as they could and enjoying themselves. The troubled waters of intrigue that swirled round the Tsar's headquarters offered many possibilities for success that would have been inconceivable at any other time. One courtier in a lucrative post and not wanting to lose it would find himself in agreement with Pfuel today and his opponents tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow he would disclaim any views on the same question, in order to avoid responsibility and please the Emperor. Another, with an eye to the main chance, would seek the Tsar's attention by bellowing out something his Majesty had hinted at the previous day, or taking people on at the council, arguing vociferously, beating his breast and challenging anyone who disagreed to a duel as a demonstration of his readiness for self-sacrifice in the common good. A third would simply take advantage of a gap between councils and the absence of enemies to apply for an extraordinary grant in respect of faithful service, knowing that time was on his side and he would not be refused. A fourth would ensure that the Tsar kept coming across him up to his eyes in work. A fifth would strive towards a long-desired goal - dinner at the Emperor's table - by taking up some new cause and arguing it one way or the other with tremendous passion, marshalling all sorts of arguments with every shade of strength and fairness.
All the men in this party were out for roubles, honours and promotion, and to help them in the chase they simply followed royal favour like a weather-vane; if the vane swung one way all the drones of the Russian army swarmed off in that direction, which made it more difficult for the Tsar to swing back. In all the current uncertainty, with the threat of serious danger hanging over them and the resulting sense of dire alarm, in this maelstrom of intrigue, vanity, competition, conflicting emotions and opinions, involving people from so many different nationalities, this eighth and largest party, obsessed with self-interest, served only to compound the sense of disorder and confusion. Whatever question arose, this cloud of drones, still sounding off on the last topic, would swarm over to a new one, buzzing loud enough to drown and obscure what was being said by honest people.
At the time when Prince Andrey reached the army another group - a ninth party - had just emerged from all the others and was beginning to make its voice heard. It was the party of older, more reasonable men, experienced politicians, who were able to stand back from the many conflicts of opinion, take an objective view of all that was going on at headquarters and consider various ways of getting out of the mess of uncertainty, confusion and weakness.
The members of this party said what they thought: the trouble was caused mainly by the Tsar's presence in the army along with his military court. This transferred into the army a loose system of short-term, fluctuating and insecure relationships that may be all right within the court itself, but was ruinous to an army; the Tsar's job was to govern the country, not lead the troops; the only solution would be for the Tsar and his court to get out of the army; the presence of the Tsar immobilized fifty thousand troops earmarked for the guarantee of his personal security; and the worst possible commander-in-chief, given his freedom to act, would be better than the best commander-in-chief hamstrung by the presence and authority of the Tsar.
While Prince Andrey was staying at Drissa with time on his hands, Shishkov, secretary of state and chief representative of this last group, wrote a letter to the Tsar with Balashev and Arakcheyev as willing fellow-signatories. In it he took advantage of the Tsar's permission for him to offer an opinion on the general course of events, used a clever pretext - the absolute necessity of his Majesty's being in the ca
pital to rouse public feeling for the war effort - and respectfully suggested that the Emperor should leave the army.
An appeal by the Emperor to his people and a call for them to defend their fatherland - the very appeal that would turn out to be the main reason for Russia's eventual triumph, insofar as this was actually affected by the Tsar's presence in Moscow - were proposed to his Majesty, and accepted by him, as a pretext for leaving the army.
CHAPTER 10
This letter had yet to be handed to the Tsar when Barclay informed Prince Andrey over lunch that his Majesty would be pleased to grant him a personal interview in order to ask him about Turkey, and Prince Andrey was to present himself at Bennigsen's quarters at six o'clock that evening.
That very day news had reached the Tsar's quarters that Napoleon's troops were on the move again, threatening the army - though this would turn out to be wrong. And that same morning Colonel Michaud had accompanied the Tsar on a tour of the Drissa fortifications, systematically pointing out that Pfuel's fortified camp, which had been seen as a tactical masterpiece guaranteed to destroy Napoleon - this camp was a stupid idea that would be the downfall of the Russian army.
Prince Andrey proceeded to Bennigsen's quarters, a small manor-house right down on the river-bank. Neither Bennigsen nor the Tsar was there, but Chernyshev, the Tsar's aide-de-camp, received Bolkonsky and told him the Tsar had gone off for the second time that day with General Bennigsen and Marchese Paulucci on an inspection of the Drissa fortifications, about which they were beginning to have the most serious doubts.
Chernyshev was sitting by a window in the outer room with a French novel in his hand. This had probably once been the ballroom; the organ was still there, though it was piled with rugs, and a camp-bed belonging to Bennigsen's adjutant took up one corner. The adjutant himself was there, sitting on his rolled-up bedding; he looked dozy and exhausted either from work or from too much partying. There were two doors leading out of the room, the old drawing-room door straight ahead and another one opening into the study on the right. Through the first door came the sounds of conversation mainly in German but with the odd burst of French. A meeting had been convened in the old drawing-room at the Tsar's behest, not a council of war - the Tsar liked to keep things vague - just a few people he considered worth consulting over their imminent difficulties. Not a council of war, but an impromptu council convened for the Tsar's personal benefit in order to clarify a number of questions. Invitations to this semi-council had been sent to the Swede, General Armfeldt, Adjutant-General Wolzogen, Wintzengerode (described by Napoleon as a renegade French subject), Michaud, Toll, Count Stein - anything but a military man - and finally Pfuel himself, the mainspring of everything, according to what Prince Andrey had heard. Prince Andrey managed to get a good look at this man when Pfuel came in shortly after him and lingered for a while exchanging a few words with Chernyshev before going on into the drawing-room.
At first sight Pfuel, in his sloppy Russian general's uniform, which fitted him badly and looked like fancy dress, seemed familiar to Prince Andrey, though he had never seen him before. He was in the run of Weierother, Mack, Schmidt, and many other German generals obsessed with theory; Prince Andrey had seen them all at work in 1805, but Pfuel was a perfect specimen of the type. Prince Andrey had never before set eyes on a German theorist who so completely combined all the characteristics of the other Germans.
Pfuel was short and skinny but big-boned, coarse and robust, with broad hips and protruding shoulder-blades. He had a wrinkled face with deep-set eyes. His hair had obviously been hastily brushed back from his temples, but it stuck up behind in funny tufts. He looked worried and angry as he glanced round before walking into the large room, and he seemed to be scared of everything in there. Grasping his sword rather clumsily, he turned to Chernyshev and asked where the Tsar had gone. He made it clear that he wanted to walk straight through the rooms, get the formalities over as fast as he could and sit down at a map, where he would feel at home. He responded to Chernyshev with a few quick nods, and he gave a sarcastic smile when they told him the Tsar had gone out to inspect the fortifications that he, Pfuel, had laid down in accordance with his theory. He muttered something under his breath, growling in the sharp tones always used by arrogant Germans: 'Stupid man . . .' or 'To hell with the whole damn thing . . .' or 'A nice mess this is going to be . . .' Prince Andrey didn't quite catch what he said and was about to move on, but Chernyshev introduced him to Pfuel, mentioning that he had just come on from Turkey, where the war had ended so well. Pfuel launched a fleeting glance at Prince Andrey, or rather through him, and said with a laugh: 'A war of splendid tactics, I'm sure!' With that he gave another contemptuous laugh and walked through into the room from which the sounds of voices were coming.
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 t
o 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.