Chapter 10
Before Alexander gets that letter, Andrew is told the emperor wishes to ask him about Turkey, and he's to present himself at 6pm. Also, that same day, Alexander has received news of Napoleon's movements (false) and been told that the fortified camp which had been believed to be a triumph of tactical science, is an absurdity (true). All of that means that, when Andrew arrives, the emperor has ridden off to see the camp instead. Instead a finds a not-actually council-of-war. It basically is a council of war, only no one calls it that because the emperor prefers to be vague. Andrew also meets Pfuel, the man who designed the camp in the first place. Pfuel is not impressed with Andrew, but he's "inclined to be irritably sarcastic", so that's probably not Andrew's fault. Tolstoy claims that Pfuel is self-confident in the way only Germans can be, because "only Germans are self-confident on the basis of an abstract notion - science, that is, the supposed knowledge of absolute truth". This is, presumably, not as good as French self-confidence, which is built on the supposition of being sex on legs (paraphrased) or English self-confidence, which is built on being a citizen of the best-organised state in the world (no longer true), or Italian self-confidence built on being excitable and forgetful, or a Russian self-confidence based on the idea that nothing can ever be truly known. I'm beginning to suspect that Tolstoy would have been an anti-vaxxer if alive today. He refers to science as something which man himself as invented, but which is "for him, the absolute truth". Oh Tolstoy. We don't invent science. We use the scientific method which, but shortly, is a way of narrowing down the possibilities and finding as much evidence as we can regarding the question we want to answer.
Anyway, Pfuel's science is the theory of war, which, based on how Tolstoy describes it, I would agree sounds a bit made up. Pfuel, for instance, is in the habit of excluding conflicts which don't fit his preconceived notions of warfare. I can never remember if that one is a Texas Sharpshooter or No True Scotsman fallacy. I think the latter, since it's observation rather than experiments that he's examining. Pfuel was one of those responsible for the failed campaign of 1806. He blames the failure on deviations from his plan, and takes it as proof that he's right about everything. Okay, I'm beginning to sympathise with Tolstoy's views now. If this is what I thought a scientist was, I wouldn't think much of them either. Plus, we must also remember that this is a translation.
Finally, the emperor arrives, stating that whoever designed the camp he's just seen deserves either the lunatic asylum or the gallows. The emperor tells Andrew to wait for him in the drawing room, while he heads into the study with Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volksonski (it's not at all confusing that his name is similar to both Anna Mikhaylovna or Bolkonski) and Baron Stein. Peter then comes out to the drawing room to ask the group to discuss the (false) news about French movements. Everyone begins sharing plans which they came up with ages ago, and which don't actually relate at all to what's really happening, or believed to be happening. Pfuel and his translator are silent - apart from occasional harumphs - until Peter directly asks for his opinion. Pfuel is annoyed because everyone has deviated from his perfect plan which, obviously, would have been successful if it wasn't for actual people getting in the way. He continues to insist that his camp is a perfect machine of destruction for enemy armies. Another member of the party, Paulucci, begins to argue with him, but in French, so there are people translating over one another, and Pfuel refuses to slow down. Eventually, he begins to sulk and refuses to explain. If this debate were happening online, he'd be flouncing. Wolzogen takes over defending him, but Pfuel begins to attack him as well. Eventually, there are three languages bouncing around the room - French, German, and Russian - and Andrew just sits there drinking it all in. He's a fan of Pfuel. He realises that Pfuel isn't trying to attack anyone, he justs wants the plan he's worked hard on to be followed. Andrew can respect that. Pfuel is also the only one without a panicky fear of Napoleon's genius. Perhaps Pfuel also reminds Andrew of his own father - he's "pitiable", with messy hair, and a fear that the one chance to test his theories of war will be lost. Andrew himself believes that there cannot be a science of war, based on his experience of just how random and confusing it is to be at the front. Surely if there were then all these great men would at least have some overlap in their ideas? Plus, all the generals he's known have been contrary, stupid, or absent-minded. Andrew realises that to be good at war, a man must be lacking in the "highest and best human attributes" - love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic, inquiring doubt. That makes sense to me. Only someone without pity or empathy, or love, who can truly believe they're doing the right thing, can send millions of men to their death. These generals really don't do anything - it's all about the men at the front, who react to what's in front of them, that can change how a battle goes. Andrew forever loses his standing in court circles when, the next day, he asks to leave the Emperor and return to the army. But I like him a lot better, so there's that.
Anyway, Pfuel's science is the theory of war, which, based on how Tolstoy describes it, I would agree sounds a bit made up. Pfuel, for instance, is in the habit of excluding conflicts which don't fit his preconceived notions of warfare. I can never remember if that one is a Texas Sharpshooter or No True Scotsman fallacy. I think the latter, since it's observation rather than experiments that he's examining. Pfuel was one of those responsible for the failed campaign of 1806. He blames the failure on deviations from his plan, and takes it as proof that he's right about everything. Okay, I'm beginning to sympathise with Tolstoy's views now. If this is what I thought a scientist was, I wouldn't think much of them either. Plus, we must also remember that this is a translation.
Chapter 11
Finally, the emperor arrives, stating that whoever designed the camp he's just seen deserves either the lunatic asylum or the gallows. The emperor tells Andrew to wait for him in the drawing room, while he heads into the study with Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volksonski (it's not at all confusing that his name is similar to both Anna Mikhaylovna or Bolkonski) and Baron Stein. Peter then comes out to the drawing room to ask the group to discuss the (false) news about French movements. Everyone begins sharing plans which they came up with ages ago, and which don't actually relate at all to what's really happening, or believed to be happening. Pfuel and his translator are silent - apart from occasional harumphs - until Peter directly asks for his opinion. Pfuel is annoyed because everyone has deviated from his perfect plan which, obviously, would have been successful if it wasn't for actual people getting in the way. He continues to insist that his camp is a perfect machine of destruction for enemy armies. Another member of the party, Paulucci, begins to argue with him, but in French, so there are people translating over one another, and Pfuel refuses to slow down. Eventually, he begins to sulk and refuses to explain. If this debate were happening online, he'd be flouncing. Wolzogen takes over defending him, but Pfuel begins to attack him as well. Eventually, there are three languages bouncing around the room - French, German, and Russian - and Andrew just sits there drinking it all in. He's a fan of Pfuel. He realises that Pfuel isn't trying to attack anyone, he justs wants the plan he's worked hard on to be followed. Andrew can respect that. Pfuel is also the only one without a panicky fear of Napoleon's genius. Perhaps Pfuel also reminds Andrew of his own father - he's "pitiable", with messy hair, and a fear that the one chance to test his theories of war will be lost. Andrew himself believes that there cannot be a science of war, based on his experience of just how random and confusing it is to be at the front. Surely if there were then all these great men would at least have some overlap in their ideas? Plus, all the generals he's known have been contrary, stupid, or absent-minded. Andrew realises that to be good at war, a man must be lacking in the "highest and best human attributes" - love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic, inquiring doubt. That makes sense to me. Only someone without pity or empathy, or love, who can truly believe they're doing the right thing, can send millions of men to their death. These generals really don't do anything - it's all about the men at the front, who react to what's in front of them, that can change how a battle goes. Andrew forever loses his standing in court circles when, the next day, he asks to leave the Emperor and return to the army. But I like him a lot better, so there's that.
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