BOOK NINE: 1812
11. CHAPTER XI
(continued)
The first to speak was General Armfeldt who, to meet the
difficulty that presented itself, unexpectedly proposed a perfectly
new position away from the Petersburg and Moscow roads. The reason for
this was inexplicable (unless he wished to show that he, too, could
have an opinion), but he urged that at this point the army should
unite and there await the enemy. It was plain that Armfeldt had
thought out that plan long ago and now expounded it not so much to
answer the questions put- which, in fact, his plan did not answer-
as to avail himself of the opportunity to air it. It was one of the
millions of proposals, one as good as another, that could be made as
long as it was quite unknown what character the war would take. Some
disputed his arguments, others defended them. Young Count Toll
objected to the Swedish general's views more warmly than anyone
else, and in the course of the dispute drew from his side pocket a
well-filled notebook, which he asked permission to read to them. In
these voluminous notes Toll suggested another scheme, totally
different from Armfeldt's or Pfuel's plan of campaign. In answer to
Toll, Paulucci suggested an advance and an attack, which, he urged,
could alone extricate us from the present uncertainty and from the
trap (as he called the Drissa camp) in which we were situated.
During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen
(his "bridge" in court relations), were silent. Pfuel only snorted
contemptuously and turned away, to show that he would never demean
himself by replying to such nonsense as he was now hearing. So when
Prince Volkonski, who was in the chair, called on him to give his
opinion, he merely said:
"Why ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a splendid position
with an exposed rear, or why not this Italian gentleman's attack- very
fine, or a retreat, also good! Why ask me?" said he. "Why, you
yourselves know everything better than I do."
But when Volkonski said, with a frown, that it was in the
Emperor's name that he asked his opinion, Pfuel rose and, suddenly
growing animated, began to speak:
"Everything has been spoiled, everything muddled, everybody
thought they knew better than I did, and now you come to me! How
mend matters? There is nothing to mend! The principles laid down by me
must be strictly adhered to," said he, drumming on the table with
his bony fingers. "What is the difficulty? Nonsense, childishness!"
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