EVERYMAN’S LIBRARY
EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS

BIOGRAPHY

VOLTAIRE’S HISTORY
OF CHARLES TWELFTH
INTRODUCTORY NOTE BY
Rt. Hon. JOHN BURNS, M.P.

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New York: E. P. DUTTON & CO.

A GOOD BOOK IS THE PRECIOUS LIFE-BLOOD OF A MASTER SPIRIT, EMBALMED & TREASURED UPON PURPOSE TO A LIFE BEYOND LIFE
MILTON

VOLTAIRE’S
HISTORY of
CHARLES XII
King of
Sweden

Translated by
WINIFRED
TODHUNTER

LONDON: PUBLISHED
by J·M·DENT·&·SONS·L^TD
AND IN NEW YORK
BY E·P·DUTTON & CO

CONTENTS

PREFATORY NOTE

“To Charles the Twelfth of Sweden I owe much of what has stood me in best stead all my life. It was nearly thirty years ago, when but a boy, that I bought his Life for a penny in the New Cut. I took it home and devoured it. It made a great impression on me. Not his wars, but the Spartan heroism of his character. He inspired me with the idea of triumphing over physical weakness, weariness and pain. To inure his body to bear all manner of hardships indifferently, to bathe in ice, or face the torrid rays of the sun, to discipline his physical powers by gymnastics, to despise the niceties of food and drink, to make his body an instrument as of tempered steel, and at the same time to have that body absolutely at the disposition of the mind, that seemed to me conduct worthy of a hero. And so, boylike, I tried to imitate him, and succeeded at least so far as to be happily indifferent to the circumstances of my personal environment.”

JOHN BURNS.

“Och än är det likt det slägte som bor

Bland Nordiska fjellar och dalar,

Och ännu på Gud och på Stålet det tror,

An fädernas kärnspråk det talar.”

“And still as of old are the folk that abide

‘Mid northerly mountain and valley;

In God and their weapons they ever confide,

To voice of their fathers they rally.”

INTRODUCTION

THE “Life of Charles XII” that Mr. John Burns once bought for a penny in the New Cut—an incident in itself historical if one looks at it in the right way—was, he writes to say, an English version of Voltaire’s book. The “Histoire de Charles XII, Roi de Suède,” was first published at Rouen in 1731, first freely translated into English by Alexander Henderson in 1734, and soon afterwards reduced into a chap-book, which made the King a proverbial hero in English fairs and market-places. There have been other translations since Henderson’s, and it is now retranslated by Miss Todhunter with a closer correspondence than his to Voltaire’s original.

The book may claim a particular right to an English hearing, apart from the main interest of its subject. It was in England that the life of Charles XII was written by Voltaire, when he was on a visit of exigency there after the Rohan escapade and his second Bastille imprisonment. The effect of this stay in England was that of a determining event in his career. “Voltairism,” writes Mr. John Morley, “may be said to have begun from the flight of its founder from Paris to London. This, to borrow a name from the most memorable instance of outward change marking inward revolution, was the decisive ‘hegira,’ from which the philosophy of destruction in a formal shape may be held seriously to date.” We may supplement this passage from the criticism of a French critic of another school, who says, “England at this time was worked by a spirit of dogmatic irreligion which based itself on a false erudition, a bold criticism and an insidious metaphysic. It was the time of Woolston, of Toland, of Tindal, of Chubb, of Collins, of Bolingbroke. Until then, an insouciant disciple and imitator of the epicureans of the Temple and the roués of the Regency, Voltaire had only ventured on impiety by sallies; dogmas and mysteries had so far only inspired him with bon mots. In the school of the English philosophers he learnt to reason out his incredulity.”

Voltaire had had time by this to mend his youth and find his intellectual stature. Born in 1694, he was now a man approaching thirty-three. He had written plays, for his love for the theatre, as it lasted late in him, began early; he had completed his epic, “la Henriade”; he had used his wit irresponsibly, and, thanks to it, had twice been in the Bastille. In England he learnt, if one may say so, to take his wit seriously, that is, to realize it as a decisive weapon in his inevitable revolt and warfare. Similarly he was to use some of his other faculties in their most adroit perfection. If in the “Henriade” the epic method had failed him, considered by the side of other poems as ambitious and as long, he was able to sit down on his return from his English exile and complete this rapid piece of biography, in effect a short prose epic, which shows us the narrative art used by a consummate master in that art.

More than this we need not claim for him. If we admit Carlyle’s stigma of “persifleur” as applying to his first period, we need not go on to write him down now philosopher, by way of compensation, because he had studied for a brief period under certain notorious English philosophers. He was neither a persifleur nor a philosopher: he was a militant scribe and hyper-critic with a master bias, anti-religious or anti-Catholic, and an inimitable gift of expression. We see his gift in a very luminous special form in his “Charles XII,” which luckily need offend no man’s susceptibilities.

We do not know whether that extraordinarily long indicative nose of his was at this time as telling a sign of his character, backed by his keen twinkling black eyes, as it became later? The two best pen-portraits of Voltaire we have belong to a later day than 1728, when “Charles XII” was written. The first takes us to the year when his “Sémiramis” was produced, when he appears in a strange disguise among the casual nightly apparitions of the Café de Procope.

“M. de Voltaire, who always loved to correct his works, and perfect them, became desirous to learn, more specially and at first hand, what good or ill the public were saying of his Tragedy; and it appeared to him that he could nowhere learn it better than in the Café de Procope, which was also called the Antre (Cavern) de Procope, because it was very dark even in full day, and ill-lighted in the evenings; and because you often saw there a set of lank, sallow poets, who had somewhat the air of apparitions. In this café, which fronts the Comédie Française, had been held, for more than sixty years, the tribunal of those self-called Aristarchs, who fancied they could pass sentence without appeal, on plays, authors and actors. M. de Voltaire wished to compear there, but in disguise and altogether incognito. It was on coming out from the playhouse that the judges usually proceeded thither, to open what they called their great sessions. On the second night of ‘Sémiramis’ he borrowed a clergyman’s clothes; dressed himself in cassock and long cloak; black stockings, girdle, bands, breviary itself; nothing was forgotten. He clapt on a large peruke, unpowdered, very ill combed, which covered more than the half of his cheeks, and left nothing to be seen but the end of a long nose. The peruke was surmounted by a large three-cornered hat, corners half bruised-in. In this equipment, then, the author of ‘Sémiramis’ proceeded on foot to the Café de Procope, where he squatted himself in a corner; and waiting for the end of the play, called for a bavaroise, a small roll of bread, and the Gazette. It was not long till those familiars of the Parterre and tenants of the café stept in. They instantly began discussing the new Tragedy. Its partisans and its adversaries pleaded their cause with warmth; each giving his reasons. Impartial persons also spoke their sentiment; and repeated some fine verses of the piece. During all this time, M. de Voltaire, with spectacles on nose, head stooping over the Gazette which he pretended to be reading, was listening to the debate; profiting by reasonable observations, suffering much to hear very absurd ones and not answer them, which irritated him. Thus, during an hour and a half, had he the courage and patience to hear ‘Sémiramis’ talked of and babbled of, without speaking a word. At last, all these pretended judges of the fame of authors having gone their ways, without converting one another, M. de Voltaire also went off; took a coach in the Rue Mazarine, and returned home about eleven o’clock. Though I knew of his disguise, I confess I was struck and almost frightened to see him accoutred so. I took him for a spectre, or shade of Ninus, that was appearing to me; or, at least, for one of those ancient Irish debaters, arrived at the end of their career, after wearing themselves out in school-syllogisms. I helped him to doff all that apparatus, which I carried next morning to its true owner—a Doctor of the Sorbonne.”

Another cartoon, still better known, is that of the familiar scene of his apotheosis at the Comédie Française. A briefer sketch of that same year of his death, 1778, may be given, because it contrasts with his sharp sketch of Charles XII at Adrianople, carried on a sofa from his carriage, when, to avoid been seen, the King covered his face with a cushion—

“M. de Voltaire appeared in full dress on Tuesday, for the first time since his arrival in Paris. He had on a red coat lined with ermine; a large peruke, in the fashion of Louis XIV, black, unpowdered; and in which his withered visage was so buried that you saw only his two eyes shining like carbuncles. His head was surmounted by a square red cap in the form of a crown, which seemed only laid on. He had in his hand a small nibbed cane; and the public of Paris, not accustomed to see him in this accoutrement, laughed a good deal.”

One interesting point about Voltaire’s English associations, in so far as they prepare the way for the writing of his “Charles XII,” has not hitherto been pointed out. It is this: that a history of the “Wars of Sweden,” written by no less a hand than Defoe’s, was in existence when Voltaire was studying English literature in London. The work, or at any rate its first part, was anonymously published, like Voltaire’s, in 1715; a continuation was added, and the two parts were then issued together in 1720. Between these two dates, let us note, or in 1719, “Robinson Crusoe” had appeared. Defoe’s career has some incidents of prison and persecution that are like enough to Voltaire’s to warrant a fanciful apposition of the two rebel authors. He was in severe straits when he wrote the first part of his Wars of Charles XII; deeply involved in political intrigues. He had had, too, a severe illness—a violent fit of apoplexy—at the end of the previous year; and his trial for libelling Lord Annesley in the whig “Flying Post” was impending. His sentence, and curious escape from being imprisoned, and his “Hymn to the Mob,” have at best a remote bearing on the present book. But one notes these ironical lines to the Mob as having an added irony, when read in the light of his “Charles XII” and Voltaire’s interest in his writings—

“Thou art the Essence of the War;

Without thee who wou’d in the Field appear?

’Tis all thy own, whoever gets the Praise—

Thy Hands that fight, and ’tis thy purse that pays.

How partial is the common state of things,

And how unjust the Fame of Emperors and Kings!”

Defoe’s “History of the Wars” is written as “by a Scots gentleman in the Swedish service.” It is a more documentary book than Voltaire’s, to all outward appearance; and in it he has written with characteristic fidelity to the make-believe of his literary double the pseudo “Scots gentleman.” It has much the air of the off-hand, matter-of-fact military narrator, who does not look for rhetorical openings, or greatly trouble himself to make the most of his subject.

In his preface he says of Charles XII: “He has done Actions that Posterity will have room to Fable upon, till they make his History Incredible, and turn it into Romance.” The romance is already in process in Defoe’s pages. The following passage in the text may be quoted to give an idea of his Scots gentleman’s estimate of the King—

“And such as these were his Discourses to us, who were his Servants, which so effectually convinc’d us, that his Cause was just, and his Foundations right, that however black the Prospect was, which we had before us; for we could see nothing attending us in the Process of the War, but Death, or being made Prisoners of War, which among Northern Princes especially, is but one Degree less in its Nature to a Soldier; and yet it must be said, in Honour of his Swedish Majesty’s Service, and of his Servants too; that not an Officer of Note deserted him to the Day of his Death, or quitted his Service, tho’ always unfortunate; nay, even the foreign Officers did not desert him; for we all thought, so much Virtue, such personal Bravery, such gallant Principles, such immoveable Steadiness, could not fail, but one Time or other must necessarily have a Turn of Fortune in the World, must some Time or other find Friends to support it: For who could imagine, that so gallant a Prince should at once be abandon’d of all the Princes of the Earth, from whom any Assistance could be expected; and that he, whose Ancestors had been the Refuge and Sanctuary of all the Protestant Powers and Princes in Germany, in their Distress, should at last receive Help from none of the Successors of those very Princes, who were establish’d by the Blood and Power of Sweden; nay, to apply it nearer, should at last be driven out of his Possessions by those very Powers, whose Ancestors ow’d the Being of their Government, to the Gallantry and Friendship of the King of Sweden’s Predecessors.”

Other extracts might be made which would show that Defoe was writing at his utmost stretch of speed when he wrote the “History.” This, too, is proved by the occasional gaps, dates left blank, and uncorrected errors of fact, or of the press.

Voltaire’s book, on the other hand, though it repeats some of Defoe’s errors, is an admirably adroit, and a well-poised and considered biography: one of the best biographies of great soldiers ever given to the world. We may conclude, if we will, that Voltaire’s English experiences in the decisive years of the writing of the book, which undoubtedly gave a new force and impulse to his genius, helped him also to his particular mastery in this vein. His tribute to England in his “Lettres Philosophiques sur les Anglais” is an indirect testimony to his intellectual expatriation; and with these two books and his tragedy, “Zaïre,” which followed in 1732, Voltaire may be said to have attained his brilliant majority.

The students of history who wish to collate Voltaire’s book with later authorities may be recommended to turn to Mr. Nisbet Bain’s volume on Charles XII, in the “Heroes of the Nations” series, Mr. Oscar Browning’s monograph, and Schuyler’s “History of Peter the Great.”

E. R.

The following are the works of Voltaire—

Dramatic Works:—Œdipe, 1718; Artémire, 1720; Mariamne, 1724; Zaïre, 1732; Samson (opera), 1732; L’Enfant Prodigue, 1736; Mahomet, ou le Fanatisme, 1742; Mérope, 1743; Sémiramis, 1748; Nanine, 1749; Oreste, 1750; L’Orpheline de la Chine, 1755; Tancrède, 1760; L’Ecossaise, 1760; Le Dépositaire, 1772; Irène, 1778; Agathoclès, 1779 (performed on the anniversary of the poet’s death). Other dramas and operas.

Poems:—La Bastille, 1717; La Henriade (fraudulently published as La Ligue, 1723-4) 1728; Mort de Mlle. Lecouvreur, 1730; Temple du Goût, 1733 (prose and verse); Le Mondain, 1736; Discours sur l’homme (Épîtres sur le Bonheur, 1738-9); Sur les Événements de 1744; Fontenoi, 1745; Temple de la Gloire, 1745; La Pucelle d’Orléans, 1755 (some of the “Chants” had been in circulation since 1735), in twenty Chants, 1762; a supplemental one, “La Capilotade,” appeared separately in 1760; Sur le désastre de Lisbonne, 1756; Sur la Loi Naturelle, 1756; La Vanité, Le Pauvre Diable, Le Russe à Paris, 1760; Contes de Guillaume Vadé (with prose, 1764); La Guerre Civile de Génève (burlesque poem), 1768; Les Trois Empereurs en Sorbonne, 1768; Épître à Boileau, 1769; Les Systèmes, Les Cabales, 1772; La Tactique, 1773; and others.

Prose Tales:—Le Monde comme il va (or Babouc), 1746; Zadig, 1748 (published in 1747 as “Memnon, Histoire Orientale”); Memnon, ou la Sagesse Humaine, 1749; Micromégas, 1750; L’Histoire d’un Bon Bramin, 1759; Candide, 1759; Le Blanc et Le Noir, 1764; Jeannot et Colin, 1764; L’Homme aux Quarante Écus, 1767; L’Ingénu, 1767; La Princesse de Babylone, 1768; Histoire de Jenny, 1769; Lettres d’Amabed, 1769; Le Taureau Blanc, 1774; Les Oreilles du Comte de Chesterfield, 1774; and others.

Historical Works:—Histoire de Charles XII, 1731; Siècle de Louis XIV, 1751; enlarged edition 1753 (two chapters had been printed and suppressed in 1739); Abrégé de l’Histoire Universelle, vols. i and ii, 1753; vol. iii, 1754; complete edition, 1756 (fragments had appeared in 1745); Annales de l’Empire, 1753; Précis du Siècle de Louis XV, published in part 1755 and 1763, with additional chapters, 1769; Essai sur l’Histoire Générale et sur les Mœurs et l’Esprit des Nations depuis Charlemagne jusqu’à nos jours, five vols, 1756, given in vol. vii of Siècle de Louis XIV (some chapters had appeared in the “Mercure” in 1745-6); Histoire de Russie sous Pierre le Grand: first part, 1759; second part, 1763; La Philosophie de l’Histoire, 1765 (later the “Discours préliminaire” to “Essai sur les Mœurs”); La Défense de mon Oncle (in reply to an adverse criticism on the above work), 1767; Le Pyrrhonisme de l’Histoire, 1768; Fragments sur l’Histoire Générale (Pyrrhonism and Tolerance), 1773.

Works on Philosophy and Religion:—Épître philosophique à Uranie, 1732; Lettres sur les Anglaises (twenty-four letters), 1733, 1734 (also published as “Lettres Philosophiques”); Traité de Métaphysique, 1734; Éléments de la Philosophie de Newton, 1738; Métaphysique de Newton, 1740; Articles for the Encyclopédie, 1757; Dictionnaire Philosophique Portatif, 1764; Catéchisme de l’Honnête Homme, 1763; Le Philosophe Ignorant, 1766; La Raison par Alphabet (new edition of the Dictionnaire Philosophique), 1769; Lettres de Memmius, 1771; Questions sur l’Encyclopédie par des Amateurs, 1770-2; Lettres Chinoises, Indiennes, et Tartares par un Bénédictin, 1776; Mémoires pour servir à la vie de M. Voltaire (printed 1784); and others.

Critical Works:—Essai sur la Poésie, 1726; Utile Examen des Épîtres de J. J. Rousseau, 1736; Lettres sur la “Nouvelle Héloïse,” 1761; Appel à toutes les Nations de l’Europe des Jugements d’un écrivain Anglais (later known as “Du Théâtre Anglais”), 1761; Éloge de M. de Crébillon, 1762; Idées Républicaines (in the “Contrat Social”), 1762; Théâtre de Corneille (with translation of Shakespeare’s “Julius Cæsar”), 1764; Examen Important de Milord Bolingbroke, 1767; Commentaire Historique sur les Œuvres de l’auteur de la Henriade, 1776; Éloge et Pensées de Pascal (corrected and enlarged edition), 1776; Commentaire sur l’Esprit des Lois de Montesquieu, 1777; and others.

Miscellaneous Writings:—Épîtres aux Manes de Genonville, 1729; Épître des Vous et des Tu, 1732; Sur la Calomnie, 1733; Anecdotes sur Pierre le Grand, 1748; Mensonges Imprimés (on Richelieu’s Will), 1749; Des Embellissements de Paris, 1750; Remerciement sincère à un Homme Charitable, 1750; Diatribe du Doctor Akakia, 1752; Les Quand, 1760; Writings for the rehabilitation of Jean Calas, who had been unjustly executed, 1762; Traité sur la Tolérance à l’occasion de la Mort de Jean Calas, 1763; Le Sentiment des Citoyens (attack on Rousseau), 1764; Discours aux Welches, 1764; Les Anciens et les Modernes, ou la Toilette de Mme. de Pompadour, 1765; Commentaires sur le livre des délits et des peines, 1766; Le Cri des Nations (against Papal domination), 1769; De la Paix Perpétuelle (on fanaticism and tolerance), 1769; La Méprise d’Arras (on another judicial mistake), 1771; Éloge de Louis XV; de la Mort de Louis XV et de la Fatalité, 1774; and other works.

Editions of Voltaire’s works include a few works on physics and an enormous correspondence.

Chief General Editions of Works:—Ed. Beaumarchais, etc., 70 vols. 8°, 1784; 92 vols. 12°, 1785-90; Beuchot, 70 vols., 1828, etc.; Ed. du Siècle, 8 vols., 1867-70; Moland, 50 vols., 1877-83; with “Table Générale et Analytique,” by Charles Pierrot, 1885; Selections have been published, and separate volumes of letters.

Bibliography:—G. Bengesco, 1882-90.

Life, etc.:—Condorcet, 1787; G. Desnoireterres, “Voltaire et la Société Française au XVIII^me Siècle,” 1871-76; Longchamp et Wagnière, “Mémoires sur Voltaire, et ses ouvrages,” 1825; Bersot, Études sur le XVIII^me Siècle, 1855; A. Pierron, “Voltaire et ses Maîtres,” 1866; Maynard, “Voltaire; sa vie et ses œuvres,” 1867; D. F. Strauss, 1870; J. Morley, 1872, 1886; James Paston, 2 vols., 1881; G. Maugras, “Voltaire et Jean Jacques Rousseau,” 1886; E. Faguet, 1895; E. Champion, “Voltaire: Études Critiques,” 1897; L. Cronslé, 1899; G. Lanson, 1907; and in Sainte-Beuve, “Causeries du Lundi,” vol. ii; Brunetière, “Études Critiques,” vols. i, iii, iv.

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

“CHARLES XII” was written during the years 1727 and 1728. It is more than 170 years since it was first translated into English. Opinions of its merits differ widely. Macaulay, classing it with Boswell’s “Johnson” and Marmontel’s “Mémoires,” says that it “may be perused with delight by the most frivolous and the most indifferent.” Carlyle goes even further: “‘Charles XII,’” he writes, “may still pass for a model in that oft-attempted species of biography; the clearest details are given in the fewest words; we have sketches of strange men and strange countries, of wars, adventures, negotiations, in a style which for graphic brevity rivals Sallust. It is a line engraving on a reduced scale of that Swede and his mad life, without colours, yet not without the foreshortenings and perspectives of a true picture. In respect of composition, whatever may be said of its accuracy and worth otherwise, we cannot but reckon it as greatly the best of Voltaire’s histories.”

Adverse criticism, on the other hand, began as early as 1732, when La Mottraye, who had lived on terms of intimacy with the King, wrote a scathing criticism of Voltaire’s work. Voltaire succeeded in making a laughing-stock of this gentleman, but the publication of the works of Nordberg, the King’s chaplain, and of Adlerfelt, his chamberlain, shortly afterwards, did bring discredit on some of Voltaire’s details. Of the modern school of critics, Mr. Nisbet Bain, who has made a special study of original authorities, does not hesitate to call the book a “romance.”

Underlying this difference of opinion is the time-honoured question of the “scientific” as opposed to the “epical” treatment of the lives of the great. The history of any great man’s career is a kind of epic poem, and, to borrow Mr. Birrell’s words, “I do not see why we children of a larger growth may not be interested in the annals of mankind simply as a story.”

It must, indeed, be admitted that Voltaire is no precise or scientific historian; but, in the portrayal of the life of a man of action, rapidity and charm of style is surely as important as the careful tracing of cause and effect.

Voltaire’s literary style is famous; but work of high literary merit always suffers in translation; so that any roughness in the present rendering must be attributed to the translator and not to the author.

“Ett vet jag som aldrig dör—

Det är dom öfver död man.”

One thing I know that never dies—

The verdict passed upon the dead.

“The history of Sweden is the history of her kings,” and of those kings the most striking is undoubtedly Charles XII, the Lion of the North. One of the few heroic figures in a prosaic age, he seems to belong rather to the times of Alfred the Great and Charlemagne than to those of Richelieu and Louis XIII. He has well been called “the last of the Vikings,” for the extraordinary nature of his adventures no less than his dauntlessness and endurance make him a kind of Saga-hero. The stories told of his childhood show the beginnings of those Spartan powers of enduring hardship which made him the idol of his “brave blue boys” in later life.

It is said that at the age of six he almost killed himself by leaving his bed in a Swedish mid-winter to “harden himself” by sleeping on the bare boards. The obstinacy which was the most marked characteristic of his boyhood developed in after years into the resolution with which as a mere youth he faced the treachery of his neighbours. “I am resolved,” he said in his first speech to his Parliament, “never to begin an unrighteous war, but I am also resolved never to finish a righteous war until I have completely humbled my enemies.”

In all matters of convention he was “in his simplicity sublime.” He cared nothing for the pomp of sovereignty, and always wore a soldier’s plain buff coat; he took his meals standing, spreading the bread and butter, which was his usual fare, with his thumbs. His letters to his sister (whom he addresses as “mon cœur”) are full of real affection, and a glance at them dispels the popular illusion that he was cold and heartless, just because he could resist the blandishments of Anna von Königsmarck!

Apart from occasional lapses into the fatalism characteristic of his race, he seems to have been devout. Shortly after his accession he ordered the titles “Our Most Gracious Majesty” to be removed from the liturgy, on the ground that “Almighty God is not appeased by high-sounding titles but by the prayers of humble and faithful hearts.”

He was the last to lose heart in adversity; he lost his Empire with as good a grace as he won it. “It is only requisite,” he wrote after Pultawa, where all was lost but honour, “not to lose courage, or let go the conduct of affairs.”

His early death was a disaster not only for Sweden but for the whole of Europe, for he was the first to realize and check the growing power of Russia.

BOOK I

HISTORY OF CHARLES XII
KING OF SWEDEN

BOOK I

Outline of Swedish history up to the time of Charles XI—Charles’s education—His enemies—Character-sketch of the Czar, Peter Alexiowitz—His peculiarities—Alliance of Russia, Poland, Denmark against Charles XII.

THE kingdom which is made up of Sweden and Finland is, according to our measurement, about 200 leagues broad and 300 long, and stretches from south to north as far as the 55th degree or thereabouts. The climate is severe; there is scarcely any spring or autumn, but there are nine months of winter in the year, and the heat of summer follows hard upon the excessive cold of winter. Frost from the month of October onwards is continuous, nor are there any of those imperceptible gradations between the seasons which, in other countries, render changes less trying. In compensation Nature has endowed the Swedes with clear sky and pure air. The summer sunshine, which is almost continuous, ripens fruit and flowers very rapidly. The long winter nights are shortened by the twilight evenings and dawns, which last in proportion to the sun’s distance from Sweden; and the light of the moon, unveiled by any clouds, and intensified by reflection from the snow-clad ground, and often, too, by lights like the Aurora Borealis, makes travelling in Sweden as easy by night as by day.

The fauna are smaller than in the more central parts of Europe, on account of the poor pastures. The people are well developed; the purity of the air makes them healthy, and the severity of the climate hardens them. They live to a good old age when they do not undermine their constitutions by the abuse of strong drink, which Northern nations seem to crave the more because they have been denied them by Nature.

The Swedes are well built, strong and active, and capable of undergoing the most arduous labours, hunger and want; they are born fighters, high spirited and daring rather than industrious. They have long neglected commerce and are still poor business men, though commerce alone can supply their country’s wants.

Tradition says that it was chiefly from Sweden (a part of which is still called Gothland) that there poured those hordes of Goths who overran Europe and wrested it from the sway of Rome, who for the past 500 years had played the rôle of tyrant, usurper and lawgiver in that country. The Northern countries were at that time far more populous than they are to-day; there was no religious restraint preventing the citizens from polygamy; the only reproach known to the womenfolk was that of sterility or of idleness, and as they were both as industrious and as strong as the men, the period of maternity was of longer duration.

In spite of this, Sweden, together with what remains to it of Finland, has not above 4,000,000 inhabitants. The soil is sterile and poor, and Scania is the only district which produces barley. There is not more than four millions current money in the whole land. The public bank, the oldest in Europe, was established to meet a want, because, as payments are made in brass and iron coin, difficulties of transport arose.

Sweden enjoyed freedom until the middle of the fourteenth century; during this long period several revolutions occurred, but all innovations were in the direction of liberty.

The chief magistrate had the title King, which in different countries involves very different degrees of power. Thus in France and Spain it implies an absolute monarchy, while in Poland, Sweden and Finland it stands for a representative or limited monarchy. In Sweden the King was powerless without the Council, and the Council in turn derived its powers from the Parliament, which was frequently convened. In these great Assemblies the nation was represented by the nobility, the bishops, and deputies from the towns. In course of time even the peasantry, that section of the community which had been unjustly despised and enslaved throughout almost the whole of North Europe, was admitted to the Parliament.

In about 1492 this nation, essentially liberty-loving, and never forgetful of the fact that she had conquered Rome thirteen centuries before, was brought into subjection by a woman and a nation weaker than the Swedes. Margaret of Valdemar, the Sémiramis of the North, Queen of Denmark and Norway, conquered Sweden partly by force of arms and partly by means of diplomacy, and united her vast estates into one kingdom.

After her death Sweden was rent by civil war; she alternately shook off and submitted to the Danish yoke, and was ruled by kings and ministers alternately. In about 1520 she passed through a period of cruel oppression at the hands of two tyrants: one was Christian II, King of Denmark, a monarch with all the vices, and no one redeeming feature; the other, Archbishop of Upsala, and Primate of the kingdom, was as cruel as the former. One day these two, acting in concert, had the consuls, the magistrates of Stockholm and ninety-four senators seized and massacred by the executioners, on the ground that they had been excommunicated by the Pope for having defended the State against the Archbishop. Whilst these two men, united in oppression, but opposed when it was a question of dividing the spoil, were exercising the utmost tyranny and the cruelest vengeance, a new event changed the whole aspect of affairs in the North.

Gustavus Vasa, a youth descended from the old line of kings, issued from the depths of the forest of Delecarlia, where he had been in hiding, and appeared as the deliverer of Sweden. He was one of those rare products of Nature, a great genius with all the qualities of a commander of men. His noble stature and an air of distinction brought him adherents the moment he appeared. His eloquence, reinforced by his good looks, was all the more persuasive because it was unassumed. His genius led to the conception of great undertakings, which ordinary people deemed foolhardy, but which, in the eyes of the great, were simply brave. His never-failing courage carried him through all difficulties. He combined valour with discretion, was essentially gentle in an age of savagery, and had a reputation for uprightness, as far as that is possible for a party leader.

Gustavus Vasa had been a hostage of Christian, and kept prisoner contrary to the laws of nations. Having escaped from prison he had wandered, disguised as a peasant, in the mountains and woods of Delecarlia; there, to provide himself both with a livelihood and with a hiding-place, he found himself forced to work in the copper-mines. While buried in these vaults he dared to form the project of dethroning the tyrant. He revealed himself to the peasants, and impressed them as a man of extraordinary gifts, whom ordinary men instinctively obey. In a short time he turned these barbarians into veterans. He attacked Christian and the Archbishop, gained several victories over them, and drove them both from Sweden. Then the States duly elected him King of the country which he had liberated.

Scarcely was he firmly seated on the throne before he embarked on an enterprise of greater difficulty than his conquests. The real tyrants of the State were the bishops, who, possessing nearly all the wealth of Sweden, employed it to oppress the people and to make war on the kings. This power was all the more terrible because, in their ignorance, the people regarded it as sacred. Gustavus punished the Catholic Church for the crimes of her priests. In less than two years he introduced Lutheranism into Sweden, using as a means diplomacy rather than force. Having thus, as he put it, wrested the kingdom from the Danes and the clergy, he reigned in prosperity and absolutism, and died at the age of seventy, leaving his dynasty securely seated on the throne, and his form of faith firmly established.

One of his descendants was that Gustavus Adolphus who is called the Great. This king conquered Livonia, Ingria, Bremen, Verden, Vismar, Pomerania, besides more than a hundred towns in Germany, given up by Sweden after his death. He shook the throne of Ferdinand II, and protected the Lutherans in Germany, his efforts in that direction being furthered by the intrigues of Rome herself, who stood more in awe of the power of the Emperor than of heresy itself. He it was who, by his victories, contributed to the downfall of the House of Austria, an undertaking accredited to Cardinal Richelieu, who was past master in the art of gaining a reputation for himself, while Gustavus contented himself with great deeds. He was on the point of carrying war across the Danube, with the possibility of dethroning the Emperor, when, at the age of thirty-seven, he was killed in the battle of Lutzen, where he defeated Valstein. He carried with him to the grave the title of “Great,” the regrets of the North, and the esteem of his enemies.

His daughter Christine, an extremely gifted woman, preferred disputations with savants to the government of a people whose knowledge was confined to the art of war.

She won as great a reputation for resigning the throne as her ancestors had gained in winning and securing it. The Protestants have defamed her, as if Lutherans have the monopoly of all the virtues; and the Papists exulted too much in the conversion of a woman who was a mere philosopher. She retired to Rome, where she passed the rest of her life surrounded by the arts which she loved, and for the sake of which she had renounced an empire at the age of twenty-seven. After her abdication she induced the States of Sweden to elect as her successor her cousin Charles Gustavus, the tenth of that name, son of the Count Palatinate, Duke of Deux Ponts. This king added new conquests to those of Gustavus Adolphus. First he invaded Poland, where he gained the celebrated three days’ battle of Warsaw; for some time he waged war successfully against the Danes, besieged their capital, re-united Scania to Sweden, and secured the tenure of Sleswick to the Duke of Holstein. Then, having met with reverses, and made peace with his enemies, his ambition turned against his own subjects.

He conceived the idea of establishing absolutism in Sweden, but, like Gustavus the Great, died at the age of thirty-seven, before having achieved the establishment of that despotism which his son, Charles XI, completed. The latter, a warrior, like all his ancestors, was more absolute than them all. He abolished the authority of the Senate, which was declared to be a royal and not a national assembly. He was economical, vigilant, and hard-working—in fact, such a king as would have been popular had not fear dominated all other sentiments in the hearts of his subjects. He married, in 1680, Ulrica Eleanora, daughter of Ferdinand, King of Denmark, a virtuous princess worthy of more confidence than her husband gave her; the offspring of this marriage was Charles XII, perhaps the most extraordinary man ever born—a hero who summed up in his personality all the great qualities of his ancestors, and whose only fault and only misfortune was that he carried them all to excess. It is of him, and all that is related of his actions and person, that we now purpose writing.

The first book they gave him to read was Samuel Puffendorf, in order that he might become early acquainted with his own and neighbouring States. He then learned German, which he henceforward spoke as fluently as his mother tongue. At seven years old he could manage a horse. Violent exercise, in which he delighted and which revealed his martial inclinations, early laid the foundation of a strong constitution equal to the privations to which his disposition prompted him.

Though gentle enough in early childhood he was unconquerably obstinate; the only way to manage him was to appeal to his honour—he could be induced to do anything in the name of honour. He had an aversion to Latin, but when he was told that the Kings of Poland and Denmark understood it, he learned it quickly, and for the rest of his days remembered enough to speak it. Recourse was had to the same means to induce him to learn French, but he was so obstinately determined against it that he could not be prevailed upon to use it even with French ambassadors who knew no other language. As soon as he had some knowledge of Latin they made him translate Quintus Curtius; he took a liking to the book rather for the subject than the style. The tutor who explained this author to him asked him what he thought of Alexander. “I think,” said the Prince, “that I would like to be like him.” “But,” was the answer, “he only lived thirty-two years.” “Ah!” replied the Prince, “and is not that long enough when one has subdued kingdoms?” These answers were reported to the King his father, who exclaimed, “That child will excel me and he will even excel Gustavus the Great.”

One day he was amusing himself in the King’s room by looking over some geographical plans, one of a town in Hungary taken by the Turks from the Emperor, and the other of Riga, capital of Livonia, a province conquered by the Swedes a century earlier. At the foot of the map of the Hungarian town was this quotation from the Book of Job, “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” The young Prince read these words, then took a pencil and wrote beneath the map of Riga, “The Lord gave thee to me, and the devil shall not take thee from me.” Thus, in the most insignificant acts of his childhood, his resolute disposition revealed traits characteristic of greatness, showing what he was one day to be.

He was eleven years old when he lost his mother; she died from an illness brought on by the anxiety caused her by her husband and by her own efforts to conceal it. By means of a kind of court called the Chamber of Liquidation, Charles XI had robbed many of his subjects of their property. A crowd of citizens ruined by this court—merchants, farmers, widows and orphans—filled the streets of Stockholm, and daily poured forth their useless lamentations at the gate of the Palace. The Queen gave all her substance to help these poor wretches: her money, jewels, furniture and even her clothes. When she had nothing left to give them she threw herself weeping at her husband’s feet, praying him to have compassion on his subjects. The King answered sternly, “Madam, we have taken you that you may give us children, not advice.” Henceforward he is reported to have treated her with such severity that he shortened her life. He died four years after her, in the fifty-second year of his age and the thirty-seventh of his reign, just as the Empire, Spain and Holland on the one hand, and France on the other, had referred the decision of their quarrels to his arbitration, and when he had already begun the work of peace-making between these powers.

To his son of fifteen he left a kingdom secure at home and respected abroad. His subjects were poor, but brave and loyal; the treasury in good order and managed by able ministers. Charles XII, on his accession, not only found himself absolute and undisturbed master of Sweden and Finland, but also of Livonia, Carelia and Ingria; he possessed Wismar, Wibourg, the Isles of Rügen, Oesel, and the most beautiful part of Pomerania and the Duchy of Bremen and Verden, all conquests of his ancestors, assured to the crown by long tenure and by the solemn treaties of Munster and Oliva, strengthened by the prestige of Swedish arms. The peace of Ryswick, begun under the auspices of the father, was completed by the son; who was thus arbiter of Europe from the beginning of his reign.

Swedish law fixes the age of the King’s majority at fifteen years; but Charles XI, who exercised absolute power in all points, deferred that of his son, by will, to the age of eighteen. By this will he favoured the ambitious views of his mother, Edwiga Eleanora of Holstein, widow of Charles X.

This Princess was nominated by Charles XI guardian of her grandson and, in conjunction with a Council of six persons, regent of the kingdom. The regent had taken part in politics during the reign of the King her son. She was old, but her ambition, greater than her strength and ability, made her hope to enjoy the sweets of authority long during the minority of the King, her grandson. She kept him away from public business as far as possible; the young Prince passed his time hunting, or busied himself with reviewing his troops. Sometimes he even went through their exercises with them. These pursuits seemed the natural outcome of the vivacity of youth, and there was nothing in his conduct to alarm the regent. Then, too, she flattered herself that the dissipation of these exercises made him unable to apply himself, and so gave her the opportunity of a longer regency. One November day, the very year of his father’s death, after he had reviewed several regiments accompanied by the State-councillor Piper, he was standing plunged apparently in deep thought. “May I take the liberty,” said the latter to him, “of asking your Majesty of what you are thinking so seriously?” “I am thinking,” answered the Prince, “that I feel worthy of the command of those fine fellows, and that it is not my will that either they or I should receive our orders from a woman.” Piper at once seized the chance of making his fortune, and realizing that his own influence was not strong enough for him to venture on so dangerous an enterprise as depriving the Queen of the regency, and declaring the King of age, he proposed the matter to the Count Axel Sparre, an ambitious and aspiring man, pointing to the King’s confidence as a likely reward. Sparre was credulous, undertook the business, and worked hard in Piper’s interests. The Councillors of the Regency were drawn into the scheme, and vied with one another in hastening the execution of it in order to gain the King’s favour. They went in a body to propose it to the Queen, who did not in the least expect such a declaration.

The States-General were then assembled, the Councillors of the Regency laid the matter before them, and they voted unanimously for it. The affair was hastened on with a rapidity which nothing could check; so that Charles XII merely expressed a wish to rule, and within three days the States handed over the government to him. The power and influence of the Queen melted away at once. Henceforth she lived in private, a life more suited to her age, but less to her taste.

The King was crowned on the following 24th of December. He made his entry into Stockholm on a sorrel horse, shod with silver, with a sceptre in his hand, and amid the acclamations of a whole nation—a nation always extravagantly fond of novelty and full of great expectations of a young Prince.

The right of consecrating and crowning the King belongs to the Archbishop of Upsala, and is almost the only privilege remaining to him from among a number claimed by his predecessors. After having anointed the Prince according to custom, he was holding the crown ready to put on his head, when Charles seized it from his hands, and, with a proud glance at the Prelate, crowned himself. The mob, always impressed by a touch of majesty, applauded the King’s action; even those who had suffered most from the tyranny of the father could not refrain from praising the pride which was the inauguration of their servitude.

As soon as Charles was master, he took Councillor Piper into his confidence, and handed over the direction of affairs to him, so that he was soon Premier in all but name. A few days later he made him Count, a title of distinction in Sweden, and not, as in France, an empty title to be assumed at will. The first period of the King’s rule did not give people a good impression of him; it looked as if he had been rather impatient of rule than deserving of it. As a matter of fact, he indulged no dangerous passions, and the only remarkable thing about him seemed to be youthful fits of rage and a settled obstinacy. He seemed proud and unable to apply himself. Even the ambassadors to his court took him for a second-rate genius, and so described him to their masters. The Swedish people had the same opinion of him; no one understood his character; he himself had not realized it, when storms arising in the North suddenly gave his hidden talents an opportunity of displaying themselves.

Three strong princes, taking advantage of his extreme youth, made simultaneous plans for his ruin. The first was Ferdinand IV, King of Denmark, his cousin; the second Augustus, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland; the third, and most dangerous, was Peter the Great, Czar of Russia. It is necessary to explain the beginning of these wars, which had such great results. We will begin with Denmark.

Of the two sisters of Charles XII, the elder had married the Duke of Holstein, a young prince of great courage and kindliness. The Duke, oppressed by the King of Denmark, came to Stockholm with his consort, in order to put himself under the King’s protection, and ask his help, not only as a brother-in-law, but also as King of a people which nourishes an undying hatred for the Danes.

The ancient house of Holstein, merged with that of Oldenburg, was elected to the throne of Denmark in 1449. All the Northern kingdoms were at that time elective, but that of Denmark shortly after became hereditary. One of its kings, Christian III, had an affection for his brother Adolphus for which there are few parallels in history. He neither wished to leave him powerless, nor could he dismember his own States. By an extraordinary arrangement he shared with him the duchies of Holstein-Gottorp and Sleswick. The descendants of Adolphus should, in future, rule Holstein in conjunction with the kings of Denmark, so that the two duchies should be common property, and the King could do nothing in Holstein without the sanction of the Duke, and vice versa. This extraordinary union, of which there had, however, been a parallel instance a few years previously, was, for more than eighty years, a source of quarrels between the Denmark and Holstein branches of the dynasty, since the kings always made it their policy to oppress the dukes, and the dukes were equally determined on independence. The struggle had cost the last Duke his liberty and his supremacy. He had regained both at the Conference of Altena in 1689, through the mediation of Sweden, Holland and England, the guarantors of the treaty.

But as a treaty between princes is often only a temporary makeshift, until the stronger is able to oppress the weaker, the quarrel between the new Danish King and the young Duke began again more violently than ever. While the Duke was at Stockholm, the Danes had already begun hostilities in the district of Holstein, and had made a secret alliance with the King of Sweden himself.

Frederic Augustus, Elector of Saxony, whom neither the eloquence and schemes of the Abbé de Polignac, nor the great qualifications of the Prince of Conti, his competitor for the throne, had been able to deprive of election as King of Poland, was a prince still more famed for his courage and chivalrous ideals, than for his incredible physical strength. His court, after that of Louis XII, was second to none in Europe in distinction. There was never a prince more generous or liberal, nor one who gave with so good a grace.

He had bought half the votes of the Polish nobility, and gained the other half by force on the approach of a Saxon army. He considered it better to keep a standing army to strengthen himself on the throne; but he wanted a pretext for keeping it in Poland. He had, in fact, planned to send it against the King of Sweden, on the occasion we are now going to relate.

Livonia, the most beautiful and fertile province of the North, had once belonged to the Knights of the Teutonic order. The Russians, Poles, and Swedes had since severally disputed their claim to it. Sweden had enjoyed it for nearly one hundred years, and was solemnly confirmed in possession of it by the Peace of Oliva.

The late King Charles XI, in his severity to his subjects, had not spared the Livonians. He robbed them of their privileges and part of their estates. Patkul, who from his unhappy death has since gained the notoriety of misfortune, was deputed by the nobility of Livonia to lay their grievances before the King. His speech to his master was respectful, but strong and full of the rugged eloquence begotten of calamity and courage. But kings too often regard public speeches as vain ceremonies, which they must endure without paying attention to. But Charles XI, who, when he did not give way to transports of rage, knew how to act a part, patted Patkul gently on the shoulder and said, “You have spoken for your country like a brave man; I honour you for it. Proceed.” But a few days after he had Patkul declared guilty of high treason and condemned to death.

Patkul, who had hidden, took to flight, and carried his resentment to Poland. Some time after he was admitted to the court of King Augustus. Charles XI was dead, but the sentence of Patkul was not annulled, and he was still most resentful. He pointed out to the King of Poland how easily Livonia could be conquered; the people were in despair, and eager to shake off the Swedish yoke; the King was only a child, and unable to defend himself. These proposals were well received by a prince who had long meditated this conquest. Preparations were immediately made for a sudden invasion of Sweden, empty formalities of ultimata and manifestoes being dispensed with.

At the same time the storm darkened on the Russian frontier. Peter Alexiowitz, Czar of Russia, had already made his name feared by the battle in which he defeated the Turks in 1697, and by the conquest of Azov, which gave him the control of the Black Sea. But the actions which won him the title of “The Great” were far more glorious than conquests.

Russia occupies the whole of Northern Asia and Europe, and from the frontiers of China extends 1,500 leagues to the borders of Poland and Sweden. Yet the existence of this immense country was not even realized by Europe before the time of the Czar Peter. The Russians were less civilized than the Mexicans at the time of their discovery by Cortez; born the slaves of masters as barbarous as themselves, they were sunk deep in ignorance, and unacquainted with the arts and sciences, and so insensible of their use that they had no industry. An old law, held sacred among them, forbade them, on pain of death, to leave their own country without the permission of their Patriarch. Yet this law, avowedly enacted to prevent them from realizing their state of bondage, was agreeable to a people who, in the depths of their ignorance and misery, disdained all commerce with foreign nations.

The era of the Russians began with the creation of the world; they reckoned up 7,207 years at the beginning of the last century, without being able to give any reason why they did so. The first day of the year corresponded to our 13th of September. The reason they gave for this was that it was probable that God created the world in autumn, in a season when the fruits of the earth are in full maturity!

Thus the only traces of knowledge found among them were founded on gross mistakes; not one of them suspected that autumn in Russia might be spring in another country in the antipodes. Not long before, the people were for burning the secretary of the Persian ambassador, because he had foretold an eclipse of the sun. They did not even know the use of figures, but in all their calculations made use of little beads strung on wire; and this was their method of reckoning in all their counting-houses, and even in the treasury of the Czar.

Their religion was, and still is, that of the Greek Church, but intermingled with superstitions, to which they firmly adhered in proportion to their absurdity and their exacting nature. Few Russians dare eat a pigeon, because the Holy Ghost is portrayed in form of a dove. They regularly kept four Lents a year, and during that time might eat neither eggs nor milk. God and St. Nicholas were the objects of their worship, and next to them the Czar and the Patriarch. The authority of the latter was as boundless as the people’s ignorance. He had power of life and death, and inflicted the cruelest punishments, from which there was no appeal. Twice a year he rode in solemn procession, ceremoniously attended by all the clergy; and the people prostrated themselves in the streets before him, like the Tartars before their Grand Lama.

They practised confession, but only in the case of the greatest crimes; and then absolution was held necessary, but not repentance; they believed themselves purified in God’s sight as soon as they received the priest’s benediction. Thus they passed without remorse straight from confession to theft or murder; so that a practice which, in the case of other Christians, acts as a deterrent, was, in their case, only an incentive to crime. They scrupled to drink milk on a fast-day, but on festivals fathers of families, priests, matrons and maids got inebriated with brandy. As in other countries they had religious differences among themselves, but the most important cause of dispute was whether laymen should make the sign of the cross with two fingers or with three, and a certain Jacob Nursoff had, during a previous reign, raised a rebellion on this question.

The Czar, in his vast kingdom, had many subjects who were not Christians; the Tartars, on the west coast of the Caspian, and the Palus Mæotis were Mahometans; while the Siberians, Ostiacs and Samoides, who live near the Baltic, were pagans. Some of these were idolators, and some were without God in the world; still, in spite of that, the Swedes, who were sent as prisoners among them, report more favourably of their manners than those of the ancient Russians.

Peter Alexiowitz had received an education which tended to increase the barbarity of his part of the world. His disposition led him to like strangers before he knew they could be useful to him. Le Fort was the first instrument that he made use of to change the face of Russia. Peter’s mighty genius, checked but not destroyed by a barbarous education, suddenly broke out; he resolved to act a man’s part, to hold command of men and to create a new nation. Several princes before him had renounced their thrones, from distaste for public business, but there was no instance of a prince resigning that he might learn to rule better, as Peter the Great did. He left Russia in 1698, before the completion of the second year of his reign, and took a journey into Holland, under an ordinary name, as if he were the domestic servant of M. le Fort, whom he appointed ambassador-extraordinary to the States-General. When he reached Amsterdam he entered his name on the list of ships’-carpenters to the Indian Admiralty, and worked in the dockyard like other carpenters. In his leisure time he learned those branches of mathematics which might prove useful to a prince, e. g. such as related to fortifications, navigation, and the making of plans. He went into the workmen’s shops, examined all their manufactures, and let nothing escape his notice. Thence he passed to England, where he perfected himself in the science of ship-building, and, returning to Holland, carefully investigated everything which might be of use in his own country.

At last, after two years of travel and labour which nobody else would have willingly undergone, he reappeared in Russia, bringing thither with him the arts of Europe. A band of artists of all kinds followed him, and then for the first time great Russian vessels were to be seen on the Black Sea, the Baltic, and even on the ocean. Imposing buildings of architectural merit were set up amidst the Russian huts. He founded colleges, academies, printing-houses and libraries. The great towns were civilized; and gradually, though not without difficulty, the dress and customs of the people were changed, so that the Russians learned by degrees what social life really is. Even their superstitions were abolished, the Czar declared head of the Church, and the influence of the Patriarch suppressed. This last undertaking would have cost a less absolute Prince his throne and his life, but in the case of Peter not only succeeded, but assured his success in all his other innovations.

Peter, having subdued the ignorant and barbarous clerical orders, dared to venture to educate them, and so ran the risk of making them a power in the State—but he believed that he was strong enough to take this risk.

In the few monasteries which remained he had philosophy and theology taught; though this theology was only a survival of the age of barbarity from which Peter had rescued his country. A credible witness assured the writer that he had been present at a public debate, where the question was whether the use of tobacco was a sin; the proposer argued that it was lawful to intoxicate oneself with brandy, but not to smoke, because the Holy Scriptures say that, “Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.”

The monks were not content with the reform. Scarcely had the Czar set up printing-presses than they made use of them to abuse him. They called him Antichrist, because he had the men’s beards cut off, and because post-mortem dissection was practised in his academy. But another monk, who wanted to make his fortune, wrote refuting this argument, and proving that Peter was not Antichrist because the number 666 was not included in his name! The author of the libel was broken on the wheel, and his opponent made Bishop of Rezan.

The Reformer of Russia carried a law which puts to shame many a civilized state; by this law no member of the civil service, no “bourgeois” with an established position, and no minor, might enter a monastery. Peter quite grasped the importance of not allowing useful subjects to take up idleness as a profession, nor those who had not yet command of the least part of their fortune to renounce liberty for ever.

The Czar not only, after the example of the Turkish Sultans, subjected the Church to the State, but, by a greater stroke of policy, he destroyed a band of troops like the Janissaries; and that which the Ottoman Emperors failed to do, he succeeded in very rapidly; he disbanded the Russian Janissaries, called Strelitz, who had dominated the Czars. This band, feared rather by its masters than its neighbours, consisted of about 30,000 infantry, half stationed at Moscow, and the other half at various points on the frontier; a member of the Strelitz only drew pay at the rate of four roubles a year, but privileges and abuses amply made up for this.

Peter at first formed a band of mercenaries, in which he had himself enrolled, and was not too proud to begin as drummer-boy, so much were the people in need of good example. He became officer by degrees, made new regiments from time to time, and at last, finding himself at the head of disciplined troops, broke up the Strelitz, who were afraid to disobey him.

The cavalry resembled that of Poland, and that of France in the days when France was only a collection of fiefs. Russian noblemen took the field at their own expense, and engaged without discipline, and sometimes unarmed but for a sabre and a quiver; they were quite unused to discipline, and so were always beaten.

Peter the Great taught them to obey, both by example and by punishment. For he himself served as a soldier and subordinate officer, and as Czar severely punished the “boyards,” as the noblemen were called, who argued that the privilege of the nobility was to serve the State in their own way. He instituted a regular corps of artillery, and seized 500 church bells to cast cannon. By the year 1714 he had 13,000 brass cannon. He also formed a corps of dragoons, a form of arm both suited to Russian capacity and for which their horses, which are small, are particularly fit.

Russia has, at the present day (1738), thirty well-equipped regiments of dragoons of 1,000 men each.

He it was, too, who established the hussars in Russia; he even got a school of engineers in a country where he was the first to understand the elements of geometry.

He was a good engineer himself; but he excelled especially in seamanship. As he was born with an extreme fear of the sea, it is all the greater credit to him that he was a good captain, a skilful pilot, a good seaman, and a clever carpenter. Yet in his young days he could not cross a bridge without a shudder; and he had the wooden shutters of his carriage closed on these occasions. It was his courage and will which led him to overcome this constitutional weakness.

He had built on the Gulf of Tanais, near Azov, a fine port; his idea was to keep a fleet of galleys there, and as he considered that these long, flat, light craft would be successful in the Baltic, he had 300 of them built in his favourite town of Petersburg. He taught his subjects how to construct them from ordinary fir, and then how to manage them.

The revenue of the Czar was inconsiderable, compared with the immense size of his empire. It never exceeded twenty-four millions, reckoning the mark as £50, as we do at the present moment; but, after all, only he is rich who can do great deeds. Russia is not densely populated, though the women are prolific and the men are strong. Peter himself, by the very civilization of his empire, contributed to its population. The causes of the fact that there are still vast deserts in this great stretch of the continent are to be sought in frequent recruiting for unsuccessful wars, the transporting of nations from the Caspian to the Baltic, the destruction of life in the public works, the ravages wrought by disease (three-quarters of the children dying of small-pox), and the sad result of a means of government long savage, and barbarous even in its civilization. The present population of Russia consists of 500,000 noble families, 200,000 lawyers, rather more than 5,000,000 “bourgeois” and peasants paying a kind of poll-tax, and 600,000 men in the provinces conquered from the Swedes; so that this immense realm does not contain more than 14,000,000 men; that is to say, two-thirds of the population of France.

The Czar Peter, having transformed the manners, laws, militia, and the very face of his country, wished also to take a prominent part in commerce, which brings both riches to a State and advantages to the whole world. He intended to make Russia the centre of Asian and European trade. The Volga, Tanais, and Duna were to be united by canals, of which he drew the plans, and new ways were to be opened from the Baltic to the Euxine and the Caspian, and from these to the Northern Ocean.

In the year 1700 he decided to build on the Baltic a port which should be the mart of the North, and a town which should be the capital of his empire, because the port of Archangel, ice-bound for nine months in the year, and the access to which necessitated a long and dangerous circuit, did not seem to him convenient. Already he was seeking a passage to China through the seas of the north-east, and the manufactures of Paris and of Pekin were to enrich his new town.

A road of 754 versts, made across marshes which had to be first filled, led from Moscow to his new town. Most of his projects were carried out by his own hand, and two Empresses who succeeded him successively carried out his policy whenever practicable, and only abandoned the impossible.

He made tours throughout his empire whenever he was not engaged in active warfare. But he travelled as lawgiver and natural philosopher. He carefully investigated natural conditions everywhere, and tried to correct and to perfect. He himself plumbed rivers and seas, had locks made, visited the timber-yards, examined mines, assayed metals, planned accurate maps, and worked at them with his own hand.

He built, in a desolate district, the imperial town of Petersburg, which, at the present day, contains 60,000 houses, and where there has arisen in our day a brilliant Court, and where the greatest luxury is to be had. He built the port of Cronstadt on the Neva, Sainte-Croix on the frontiers of Persia, and forts in the Ukraine and in Siberia, docks at Archangel, Petersburg, Astrakan, and at Azov; besides arsenals and hospitals. His own residences he built small and in bad style, but his public buildings were magnificent and imposing. The sciences, which in other parts have been the slow product of centuries, were, by his care, introduced into his empire in full perfection. He made an academy, modelled on the famous institutions of Paris and London; at great expense men like Delisle, Bilfinger, Hermann, Bernoulli, were summoned to Petersburg. This academy is still in existence, and is now training Russian scholars.

He compelled the younger members of the nobility to travel to gain culture, and to return to Russia polished by foreign good breeding. I have met young Russians who were quite men of the world, and well-informed to boot.

It is shocking to realize that this reformer lacked the cardinal virtue of humanity. With so many virtues he was yet brutal in his pleasures, savage in his manner, and barbarous in seeking revenge. He civilized his people, but remained savage himself. He carried out his sentences with his own hands, and at a debauch at table he displayed his skill in cutting off heads. There are in Africa kings who shed the blood of their subjects with their own hands, but these monarchs pass for barbarians. The death of one of his sons, who ought to have been punished or disinherited, would make his memory odious, if the good he did his subjects did not almost atone for his cruelty to his own family.

Such a man was Peter the Czar, and his great plans were only sketched in outline when he united with the kings of Poland and Denmark against a child whom they all despised.

The founder of Russia resolved to be a conqueror; he believed the task an easy one, and felt that a war so well launched would help him in all his projects. The art of war was a new art in which his people needed lessons.

Besides, he wanted a port on the east side of the Baltic for the execution of his great plans. He needed Ingria, which lies to the north-east of Livonia. The Swedes possessed it, and it must be seized from them. His ancestors, again, had had rights over Ingria, Estonia, and Livonia; it seemed the right time to revive these claims, which not only dated from a hundred years back, but had also been annulled by treaties. He therefore concluded a treaty with the King of Poland to take from Sweden the districts which lie between the Gulf of Finland, the Baltic, Poland and Russia.

BOOK II

BOOK II

Sudden and extraordinary transformation in the character of Charles XII—At the age of eighteen he carries on war with Denmark, Poland and Russia—He concludes the war with Denmark in six weeks—Beats an army of 80,000 Russians with 8,000 Swedes, and proceeds to Poland—Description of Poland and its Government—Charles wins several victories, and conquers Poland, where he makes preparations to nominate a king.

THUS three powerful kings were threatening the throne of the boy-king, Charles XII. Rumours of these preparations dismayed the people, and alarmed the King’s Council. The great generals were dead; everything was to be feared under a young king who had so far made a bad impression on people. He was hardly ever present at the Council without crossing his legs on the table; he seemed too absent-minded and callous to take part in any business.

The dangerous position of affairs was deliberated by the Council in his presence, and, as some Councillors were proposing to divert the storm by means of negotiation, Charles suddenly rose from his seat with the determined air of a man of resolution who has decided on a course of action. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I have resolved never to engage in an unjust war, but, on the other hand, never to conclude a just war but by the ruin of my foes. I have made up my mind. I intend to attack the first who declares war against me, and when I have conquered him I hope to strike terror into the rest.” This speech amazed the old Councillors; they exchanged glances without venturing a reply, and finally, astonished at this revelation of their king’s courage, and ashamed to show less courage than he, they received his orders for the war cordially.

They were still more surprised when they observed that he suddenly renounced all the most innocent, youthful pleasures. From the moment that he began to prepare for war he entered on a new mode of life, from which he never afterwards departed in one particular. With Alexander and Cæsar as his ideals, he set himself the task of imitating those conquerors in everything but their vices.

He renounced all magnificence, pastimes and recreations, and reduced his menu to the utmost frugality. He had affected display in dress, but in future wore the uniform of a common soldier. There had been a rumour that he had entertained a passion for a lady of the Court. But whether this was true or not, it is certain that he abstained from the society of women for ever after, not only to avoid coming too much under their influence, but that he might prove to his soldiers his determination to live under the severest discipline; possibly, too, he wished to pose as the only Prince who had conquered so difficult a temptation. He also resolved to abstain from wine for the rest of his life. Some people say that he made this resolve in order to curb nature in every particular, and to add a new virtue to his heroism; but the majority say that he took this means of punishing himself for an excess which he had once committed, leading to an insult offered to a lady at table in the presence of his mother. If that was so, his self-condemnation and the life-long deprivation which he imposed on himself are none the less to be admired.

He began operations by a promise of relief to his brother-in-law, the Duke of Holstein. Eight thousand men were immediately sent to Pomerania, a province bordering on Holstein, to protect the Duke against the attacks of the Danes. The Duke certainly needed them; his dominions were already ravaged, his castle at Gottorp taken and the town of Tonning closely besieged, the King of Denmark being there in person, to enjoy a conquest of which he felt certain. This spark enflamed the empire. On one side the Saxon troops of the King of Poland and those of Brandenburg, Volfenbuttel and Hesse-Cassel marched to join the Danes. On the other the King of Sweden’s 8,000 men, the troops of Hanover and Zell, and three Dutch regiments came to the help of the Duke.

While the little country of Holstein was thus made the theatre of war two squadrons, one from England and the other from Holland, appeared in the Baltic.

These two States were guarantors of the treaty of Altena, which the Danes had broken, and they were all the more eager to relieve the oppressed Duke, as it was to the interest of their trade to prevent the growth of the power of the King of Denmark. For they knew that the Danes, when they once had control of the Sound, would lay heavy dues on the trading nations, as soon as they were strong enough to do so.

The English and the Dutch had, for this reason, kept, as far as possible, the balance of power equal between the princes of the North; they joined the King of Sweden, who seemed on the point of being overwhelmed by many enemies acting in concert, and helped him for the same reason that the others attacked him, viz. because they thought him incapable of self-defence.

He was bear-hunting when he got news of the invasion of Livonia by the Saxons. He was conducting the hunt in a way as dangerous as novel; the only arms used were forked cudgels, behind a net stretched between trees; a bear of enormous size rushed straight at the King, who, after a long struggle, brought it to the ground, with the help of his net and cudgel.

He started for his first campaign on the 8th of May, new style, in the year 1700. He left Stockholm never to return.

An immense crowd of people went with him as far as Carlscroon, praying for him and weeping and praising him. Before he left Stockholm he established a Council of Defence, composed of Senators. This commission was to have charge of all that concerned the fleet, the troops and fortifications. The Senate was to provisionally regulate all other internal affairs. Having thus arranged all securely within his dominions he concentrated entirely on the war. His fleet consisted of forty-three vessels, that in which he embarked, called the King Charles, was the largest they had ever seen, and carried 120 guns; Count Piper, his Prime Minister, and General Renschild embarked with him. He joined the squadron of the allies; the Danish fleet refused an engagement, and gave the united fleets the opportunity of coming so near Copenhagen that they could throw some bombs into the town.

There is no doubt that it was the King himself who then proposed to General Renschild that they should disembark and besiege Copenhagen by land while it was invested by sea. Renschild was astonished at a proposal which displayed in a young and inexperienced Prince as much skill as courage. Soon all was ready for the disembarkment; orders were given for the embarkation of 3,000 men who were stationed on the coast of Sweden, and who were added to the men they had on board. The King left his large ship and embarked on a lighter frigate; then they sent 300 grenadiers in small vessels along the coast. Among these vessels were small, flat-bottomed boats, which carried the fagots, chevaux de frise and the weapons of the pioneers.

Five hundred picked men followed in other shallops. Then came the King’s men-of-war with two English and two Dutch frigates, whose cannon were to cover the landing of the troops. Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark, is situated in the island of Zeeland, in the midst of a beautiful plain, which has the Sound on the north-west and the Baltic on the east, where the King of Sweden then had his position. At the unexpected movement of the vessels which threatened invasion, the inhabitants, dismayed by the inactivity of their own fleet and by the motion of the Swedish ships, looked round in terror to see on what point the storm would burst. Charles’s fleet stopped before Humblebek, seven miles from Copenhagen. The Danes immediately drew up their cavalry on this spot. The infantry were placed behind deep entrenchments, and all the artillery forthcoming was directed against the Swedes.

The King then left his frigate to embark on the first boat at the head of his guards. The ambassador of France was constantly at his elbow. “Sir,” said the King to him in Latin, for he never would speak French, “you have no quarrel with the Danes, and must now oblige me by retiring.” “Sir,” answered the Count de Guiscard, in French, “the King my master has commanded me to attend your Majesty; and I flatter myself that you will not banish me from your Court, which has never been so brilliant as to-day.” With these words he gave his hand to the King, who leapt into the boat, followed by Count Piper and the ambassador.

They advanced supported by the broadsides of the vessels which were covering the descent. The small boats were within a hundred yards of the shore when Charles, impatient of the delay in landing, threw himself from the boat into the sea, sword in hand, and with the water up to his waist, and in spite of a shower of musket-shot, discharged by the Danes, his ministers, the ambassador of France, and officers and soldiers followed his example. The King, who had never before heard a discharge of loaded muskets, asked Major Stuart, who stood next to him, what that whistling was in his ears. “It is the sound of the muskets they are firing at you,” said the Major. “Ah!” remarked the King, “that shall henceforth be my band.” At that very moment the Major, who had explained the noise to him, was shot in the shoulder, and a lieutenant fell dead at the other side of the King.

Troops attacked in entrenchments are generally beaten, because the attacking party has an impetus which defenders cannot have; besides, waiting for the enemy in one’s lines is often a confession of inferiority.

After a faint resistance the Danish horse and foot fled. As soon as the King had seized their entrenchments he fell on his knees to thank God for the first success of his arms. He immediately had redoubts formed in the direction of the town, and himself marked out the line of the encampment. At the same time he sent his fleet back to Scania, a part of Sweden not far from Copenhagen, to get reinforcements of 9,000 men. Everything conspired to second Charles’s energetic efforts; the 9,000 men were on the shore ready to embark, and the very next day a favourable wind brought them to him.

All this happened within sight of the Danish fleet, which had not dared to advance. Copenhagen, in consternation, sent deputies to the King to ask him not to bombard the town. He received them on horseback at the head of his regiment of guards, and the deputies fell on their knees before him. He demanded of the town four hundred thousand dollars, with all sorts of provisions for the camp, for which he gave his word of honour to pay. They brought him the provisions, because they dare not refuse, but did not expect that the conquerors would condescend to pay for them; and those who brought them were astonished to find that they were paid generously by the humblest soldier in the army. The Swedish troops had long been accustomed to the strict discipline which contributed not a little to their victories, but the young King increased its severity. A soldier would not have dared to refuse payment for what he bought, much less maraud, or even go out of the camp. He even easily brought his troops to keep his rule that the dead should not be stripped after a victory without his permission. Prayers were said in camp twice a day, at seven in the morning and five in the afternoon, and he never failed to be present at them himself and to give his soldiers an example of piety as well as of valour.

His camp, which was far better governed than Copenhagen, had everything in abundance; and the country folk preferred to sell their goods to their enemies the Swedes than to their own countrymen, who did not pay so good a price for them. So it happened that the townsmen were often obliged to fetch goods, which were unobtainable in their own markets, from the King of Sweden’s camp.

The King of Denmark was then in Holstein, whither he seems to have marched only to raise the siege of Tonning. He saw the Baltic covered with his enemies’ ships, and a young conqueror already master of Zeeland and ready to take possession of the capital. He published a declaration that whoever took up arms against the Swedes should gain their liberty. This declaration had great influence in a country which had once enjoyed freedom, but where all the peasants and many even of the townsmen were then serfs. Charles sent word to the King of Denmark that he must make up his mind either to do justice to the Duke of Holstein, or have his kingdom laid waste with fire and sword.

The Danes were, indeed, fortunate in dealing with a conqueror who prided himself on his justice. A congress was summoned to meet in the town of Tevendal on the frontiers of Holstein. The Swedish King would not allow diplomacy on the part of the ministers to lengthen the proceedings; he wanted the treaty settled with the same rapidity with which he had invaded Zeeland. As a matter of fact it was concluded on the 5th of August to the advantage of the Duke of Holstein, who was indemnified for all the expenses of the war and freed from oppression. The King of Sweden would make no claims on his own behalf, being satisfied with having helped his ally and humbled his enemy. Thus Charles XII, at eighteen years old, began and ended this war in less than six weeks.

Just at the same time the King of Poland laid siege in person to the town of Riga, the capital of Livonia, and the Czar was marching from the East at the head of 100,000 men. Riga was defended by the old Count D’Alberg, a Swedish general who, at the age of eighty, combined the enthusiasm of youth with the experience of sixty campaigns. Count Fleming, afterwards minister for Poland, a man great both in the field and at the council board, together with M. Patkul, carried on the siege under the directions of the King; in spite of several advantages gained by the besiegers the experience of the old Count D’Alberg counteracted all their efforts, and the King of Poland despaired of gaining the town. At last he got an honourable pretext for raising the siege; Riga was full of merchandise belonging to the Dutch; the States-General ordered their ambassador at the Court of Augustus to make representations to him on the subject. The King of Poland did not require much pressing, but consented to raise the siege rather than occasion the least inconvenience to his allies, who were not much surprised at his ready compliance, as they knew the cause of it.

The only thing left to Charles to complete his first campaign was to march against his rival for glory, Peter Alexiowitz. He was the more angry with him because there were at Stockholm three ambassadors who had just sworn to an inviolable peace: he who prided himself on his probity could not understand how a legislator like the Czar could make light of what should be held sacred. The young and honourable Prince never dreamed that there might be one code of morality for princes and another for private individuals. The Russian Emperor published a manifesto which he had much better have suppressed: he gave as reason for war that he had not been sufficiently honoured when he passed incognito to Riga, and also that provisions were sold too dear to his ambassadors. These were the grievances for which he ravaged Ingria with 80,000 men.

It was on the 1st of October, a month in which the weather is more severe in that climate than is January in Paris, that he appeared before Narva. The Czar, who in such weather would often ride 400 leagues to see a mine or a canal, spared his men no more than himself. Besides, he knew that the Swedes, ever since the time of Gustavus Adolphus, fought in the depth of winter as well as in summer, and he wanted to accustom his Russians not to care about the seasons, so that some day they might at least equal the Swedes. So at a time when frost and snow force nations in temperate climates to suspend hostilities Peter was besieging Narva, thirty degrees from the Pole, and Charles was advancing to its relief. The Czar had no sooner arrived before the place than he hastened to put into practice all that he had lately learned on his travels: he drew out his camp, fortified it on all sides, built walls at intervals, and opened the trench with his own hands. He had given the command of the army to the Duke of Croy, a German, and a clever general, who got little support from the Russian officers.

The Czar himself had only the ordinary rank of lieutenant in his own army. He thought it necessary to give an example of military obedience to his nobility, who up till then had been undisciplined and accustomed to lead bands of ill-armed slaves without experience or order. There is nothing surprising in the fact that he who at Amsterdam turned carpenter to procure fleets for himself should at Narva turn lieutenant in order to teach his people the art of war.

The Russians are strong and indefatigable, and perhaps as brave as the Swedes, but it requires time to make veterans, and discipline to make them invincible. The only fairly reliable regiments were commanded by German officers, but there were very few of them; the rest were savages torn from their forests, clothed in the skins of wild beasts, some armed with arrows and others with clubs. Few had muskets, none had seen a regular siege, there was not one good gunner in the whole army.

A hundred and fifty cannon, which ought to have reduced the little town of Narva to ashes, hardly made a breach, while every moment the artillery of the town were destroying whole lines at work in the trenches. Narva was practically unfortified, and Count Horn, who was in command, had not a thousand regular troops, and yet this immense army was not able to reduce it in ten weeks.

On the 15th of November the Czar heard that the King of Sweden had crossed the sea with 200 transports and was on his way to the relief of Narva. There were not more than 20,000 Swedes, but superiority of numbers was the Czar’s only advantage. He was far, therefore, from despising his enemy, and used all his skill to crush him; and not content with 100,000 men he levied another army to oppose him and harass him in his advance. He had already sent for 30,000 men who were advancing from Plescow by forced marches. He then took a step which would render him contemptible if so great a legislator could be so. He left his camp, where his presence was necessary, to go to meet these reinforcements, which could quite well reach the camp without his aid; this step made it appear that he was afraid of fighting, in an entrenched camp, a young and inexperienced prince, who might attack him.

However that may be, his plan was to hem in the King between two armies. Nor was this all: a detachment of 30,000 men from the camp before Narva was posted at a league’s distance from the town, on the King of Sweden’s route, 20,000 Strelitz were further off on the same route, and 5,000 others formed an advanced guard. Charles would have to force his way through all these troops before he could reach the camp, which was fortified by a rampart and a double ditch. The King of Sweden had landed at Pernaw, on the Gulf of Riga, with about 15,000 foot and more than 4,000 horse. From Pernaw he made a forced march to Revel, followed by all his horse and only 4,000 of his foot. He continually advanced without waiting for the rest of his troops.

Soon he found himself, with only 8,000 men, in presence of the enemy’s outposts. He did not hesitate to attack them one after the other, without giving them time to find out with how small a number they had to contend. The Russians, when they saw the Swedes advancing against them, took it for granted that they had a whole army to encounter, and the advanced guard of 5,000 men, who were holding a pass between the hills where 100 men of courage might have barred the passage of a whole army, fled at the first approach of the Swedes. The 20,000 men behind them, terrified at the flight of their countrymen, were overcome by fear and caused panic in the camp to which they fled. All the posts were carried in three days and a half, and what would have been on other occasions reckoned three distinct victories did not delay the King an hour. At last he appeared with his 8,000 men, wearied with the fatigues of so long a march, before a camp of 80,000 Russians, protected by 150 cannon. He hardly allowed them time for rest before he gave orders for an instant attack.

The signal was two musket-shots, and the word in German, “With God’s help.” A general officer pointed out to him the greatness of the danger. “Surely you have no doubt,” he replied, “but that I with my 8,000 brave Swedes shall trample down 80,000 Russians!” Then a moment after, fearing that his speech was boastful, he ran after the officer. “Do you not agree with me,” he said, “that I have a double advantage over the enemy? First because their horse will be useless to them, and secondly because, as the position is cramped, their numbers will only incommode them, so that I shall really possess the advantage.” The officer thought it best not to differ from him, and so they attacked the Russians about noon, on the 30th November.

As soon as the cannon of the Swedes had made a breach in the entrenchments they advanced with fixed bayonets, having the snow, which drove full in the face of the enemy, behind them. The Russians stood the fire for half-an-hour without quitting their posts. The King attacked the Czar’s quarters, on the other side of the camp, and hoped to meet him in person, for he was ignorant of the fact that he had gone to meet his 40,000 reinforcements who were expected shortly. At the first discharge the King received a ball in the shoulder; but it was a spent ball which rested in the folds of his black cravat and did him no harm.

His horse was killed under him, and it is said that the King leapt nimbly on another, exclaiming, “These fellows make me take exercise.” Then he continued to advance and give orders with the same presence of mind as before. Within three hours the entrenchments were carried on all sides: the King chased the enemy’s right as far as the river Narva with his left, if one may speak of “chasing” when 4,000 men are in pursuit of nearly 50,000. The bridge broke under them as they fled; in a moment the river was full of dead bodies; the rest in despair returned to their camp without knowing the direction in which they were going. They found some huts behind which they stationed themselves; there they defended themselves for a time because they had no mean of escape; but finally their generals, Dolgorouky, Gollofkin and Federowitz surrendered to the King and laid down their arms at his feet. Just then the Duke of Croy arrived to surrender with thirty officers.

Charles received all these prisoners with as charming and engaging a manner as if he were feting them in his own Court. He only put the general officers under a guard; all the under officers and soldiers were disarmed and taken to the river Narva, where they were provided with boats to convey them to their own country. In the meantime night came on, and the right wing of the Russian force was still fighting. The Swedes had not lost 1,500 men; 18,000 Russians had been killed in their entrenchments, many had been drowned, many had crossed the river; but still there remained enough to entirely exterminate the Swedes. But it is not the number lost, but the panic of survivors which spells defeat in war. The King made haste to seize the enemy’s artillery before nightfall. He took up an advantageous position between their camp and the town, and there got some hours’ sleep on the ground, wrapped in his cloak, waiting till at daybreak he could fall on the enemy’s left wing, which was not yet completely routed.

At two o’clock in the morning General Wade, who was in command of that wing, having heard of the King’s gracious reception of the other generals and his sending home of the subalterns and soldiers, asked the same favour of him. The conqueror sent him word that he need only approach at the head of his troops and surrender his arms and standards. Soon the general appeared with his Russians, to the number of about 30,000. Soldiers and officers marched bare-headed in front of less than 7,000 Swedes. As the soldiers passed before him they threw down their muskets and swords; the officers surrendered their ensigns and colours.

He let the whole band cross the river without keeping one single prisoner. Had he put them under guard the number of prisoners would have been at least five times that of the conquerors.

He then victoriously entered Narva, attended by the Duke of Croy and the other Russian officers; he ordered their swords to be restored to them, and when he heard that they wanted money, because the tradesmen of Narva refused to trust them, he sent the Duke of Croy 1,000 ducats, and 500 to every Russian officer, who were full of admiration for this treatment, which they had never conceived possible. An account of the victory was at once drawn up to send to Stockholm, and to the allies, but the King erased with his own hands whatever redounded too much to his own credit or to the discredit of the Czar. His modesty could not hinder them from striking several medals to commemorate the event at Stockholm. One of these represented him, on one face, standing on a pedestal, to which a Russian, Dane and Pole were chained; and on the reverse a Hercules, armed with a club, trampling a Cerberus, and the inscription, “Tres uno contudit ictu.”

Among the prisoners made on the day of the battle of Narva was one who was typical of the revolutions of fortune. He was the eldest son and heir of the King of Georgia. He was called the “Czarafis,” a name which means son of the Czar among all the Tartars as well as in Russia; for the word Czar meant King among the ancient Scythians, from whom all these peoples are descended, and is not derived from the name of the Cæsars, so long unknown to these barbarians. His father, Mitelleski, who was master of the most beautiful part of the country between the mountains of Ararat and the eastern extremity of the Black Sea, had been driven from his kingdom by his own subjects in 1688, and preferred throwing himself on the mercy of the Emperor of Russia, to applying to the Turks. This king’s son, at the age of nineteen, helped Peter the Great in his expedition against the Swedes, and was taken in battle by some Finnish soldiers, who had already stripped him, and were on the point of killing him, when Count Renschild rescued him from their hands, supplied him with clothes, and presented him to his master. Charles sent him to Stockholm, where the wretched prince died shortly after. When he took leave, the King made aloud a natural reflection on the strangeness of the fate of an Asiatic prince, born at the foot of the Caucasus, and going to live a prisoner among the snows of Sweden:

“It is just,” he said, “as if I were to be one day prisoner among the Tartars of the Crimea.” At that time these words made no impression, but afterwards, when the prediction had been justified in the event, there was but too much reason to remember them.

The Czar was advancing by long marches with a force of 40,000 Russians, expecting to surround his enemy on all sides. When he had got half-way he heard of the battle of Narva, and the dispersal of his whole camp. He thought it best not to attack a victor who had shortly before destroyed 100,000 entrenched troops, with a force of 40,000 raw and undisciplined men. He retraced his steps, hoping to discipline his troops at the same time as civilize his subjects. “I know,” he remarked, “that the Swedes will long beat us, but in time they will teach us to beat them.” Moscow, his capital, was terror-stricken to hear of this defeat. So great was the pride and ignorance of the people that they were convinced they had been conquered by superhuman agency, and that the Swedes had secured their victory by magic. This opinion was so widespread that a public prayer to Saint Nicholas, patron saint of Russia, was ordered. This prayer is too singular to be omitted. It runs thus—

“O thou, our perpetual consolation in all our adversities, great Saint Nicholas, of infinite power, how have we offended thee in our sacrifices, our genuflections, our bowings, our thanksgivings, that thou hast thus forsaken us? We have implored thine assistance against these terrible, insolent, savage, dreadful, invincible destroyers, when, like lions and bears who have lost their young, they have fallen upon us, terrified us, wounded us, slain us by thousands, who are thy people. As it is impossible that this should have happened without sorcery and witchcraft, we beseech thee, O great Nicholas, to be our champion and standard-bearer, to deliver us from this band of sorcerers, and to drive them from our coasts with the reward they deserve.”

While the Russians were thus complaining of their defeat to St. Nicholas, Charles XII returned thanks to God, and prepared himself for fresh victories.

The King of Poland fully expected that his enemy, who had conquered the Danes and Russians, would next turn his arms against him. He made a firmer alliance with the Czar, and the two princes arranged an interview at which they could agree on some policy. They met at Brizen, a small town in Lithuania, without any of the formalities which only delay business, and for which they were in no humour under the circumstances. The princes of the North met with a familiarity which is not yet the fashion in the south of Europe. Peter and Augustus passed fifteen days together in pleasures which passed all bounds; for the Czar, who had set himself to reform his kingdom, could not restrain his own dangerous inclination to riotous living.

The King of Poland promised to furnish the Czar with 50,000 German troops, which were to be hired from several princes, and which the Czar was to pay. He, on the other hand, was to send 50,000 Russians to Poland to be trained in the art of war, and was also to pay the King of Poland 3,000,000 rixdollars within two years. Had this treaty been carried out it might have been fatal to the King of Sweden. It was a ready and sure way of making good soldiers of the Russians, and might perhaps have forged irons for half Europe.

Charles XII set himself to prevent the King of Poland from getting the benefit of this treaty. After passing the winter in Narva, he marched into Livonia, to the very town of Riga which King Augustus had failed to take. The Saxon troops were posted along the river Dwina, which is very broad at this spot, and their task was to dispute the passage with Charles, who lay on the other bank. The Saxons were not then commanded by their Prince, who was at that time ill; but their leader was Marshal Stenau, who was general; under him commanded Prince Ferdinand, Duke of Courland, and the same Patkul, who, after having maintained his rights on paper, defended his country against Charles sword in hand at the peril of his life.

The King of Sweden had great boats made, after a new model, so that the sides were far higher than ordinary, and could be let down and drawn up like a drawbridge. When raised they protected the troops they carried, and when let down they formed a bridge to land by.

He also employed another artifice. Having noticed that the wind blew straight from the north, where his troops lay, to the south, where his enemies were encamped, he fired a large heap of wet straw, which spread a thick smoke over the river and prevented the Saxons from seeing his troops, or guessing at his actions. Under cover of this cloud he sent out boats filled with smoking straw, so that the cloud increased, and being right in the enemy’s face, prevented them from knowing whether the King had started on the passage or not. Meanwhile, he himself led the execution of his scheme; and when he was in the middle of the river, “Well,” he said, “the Dwina is going to be as kind to us as the sea of Copenhagen; take my word for it, General, we shall beat them.” He got to the other side in a quarter of an hour, and was vexed to see three people leap to shore before him. He had his cannon landed at once, and drew up his line without any opposition from the enemy, who were blinded by the smoke. When the wind dispersed the smoke the Saxons saw the King of Sweden already on his march against them. Marshal Stenau lost not a moment, but at the first appearance of the Swedes fell furiously upon them with the best part of his horse. The violent shock coming upon the Swedes just as they were forming, threw them into disorder. They gave way, were broken, and pursued up to the river. The King of Sweden rallied them instantly in the midst of the stream, with as much ease as if he were holding a review. Then his troops, marching in closer formation than before, beat back Marshal Stenau, and advanced into the plain. Stenau felt that his men were beginning to waver, and, like a skilful commander, drew them off into a dry place flanked by a marsh, and a wood where his artillery were posted. The advantage of their position, and the time they had to recover their spirits, restored the Swedes’ courage. Charles attacked at once with 15,000 men, while the Duke had about 12,000. The battle was hard fought and bloody; the Duke had two horses killed under him; he three times penetrated into the centre of the King’s guards, but at last, having been unhorsed by a musket blow, his army fell into confusion, and he disputed the field no longer. His cuirassiers carried him off from the thick of the battle with difficulty, all bruised, and half dead, from the horses’ feet, as they were trampling him.

After the victory the King of Sweden hastened to Mittau, the capital of Courland, and took it. All the towns of the Duchy surrendered at discretion; it was rather a triumphal passage than a conquest. He passed rapidly on to Lithuania, and conquered wherever he passed. And he acknowledged that it was a great satisfaction to him to enter in triumph the town of Birzen, where the King of Poland and the Czar had plotted his ruin. It was here that he planned to dethrone the King of Poland by the agency of the Poles themselves. When one day he was at table, quite absorbed in the thought of his enterprise, and observing his usual rule of abstinence in the midst of a profound silence, appearing engrossed in his great plans, a German colonel, who was present, said loud enough for the King to hear, that the meals which the Czar and the King of Poland had made in the same place were very different from these.

“Yes,” said the King, rising, “and I shall the more easily disturb their digestions.” In fact, using a little diplomacy to assist his arms, he did not delay to prepare for the event about which he had been busy thinking.

The Government of Poland is an almost exact image of the old Celtic and Gothic Government, which has been altered almost everywhere else. It is the only state which has retained the name “republic,” with the royal dignity.

Every nobleman has the right to vote at the election of the king, and to stand for election himself. These fine privileges have corresponding abuses; the throne is almost always put up for sale, and as a Pole is seldom rich enough to buy it, it is often sold to foreigners. The nobility defend their liberty against the king, and tyrannize over the rest of the nation. The body of the people are slaves; such is the fate of mankind, that the great majority are, in some way or another, kept under by the minority. There the peasant does not sow his crops for himself but for his lord, to whom he and his land and his very work belong, and who can sell him, or cut his throat as if he were a beast of the field. A lord is answerable to none but himself. Judgment can only be given against him for a criminal action by an assembly of the whole nation.

Nor can he be arrested until after his condemnation, so that he is hardly ever punished. Many among them are poor, in which case they let themselves out to the richer, and do the basest duties for a salary. They would rather serve their equals than engage in trade, and while taking care of their masters’ horses they call themselves electors of kings and destroyers of tyrants.

Whoever saw a King of Poland in the pomp of his majesty, would think him the most absolute prince in Europe; yet he is certainly the least so. The Poles really make with him the same contract which is supposed to exist between a sovereign and his subjects. The King of Poland at the moment of his consecration, and when he swears to keep the “pacta conventa,” releases his subjects from their oath of allegiance if he should break the laws of the republic. He nominates to all public offices, and confers all honours. Nothing is hereditary in Poland, except estates and noble rank. The sons of a count or of a king have no claim to the dignities of their father. But there is this great difference between the king and a republic, that he cannot deprive of any office after having conferred it, and that the republic may depose him if he breaks the constitution.

The nobility, jealous of their liberty, often sell their votes and seldom their affections. They have scarcely elected a king before they fear his ambition and make plots against him. The great men whose fortunes he has made, and whom he cannot degrade, often become his enemies instead of remaining his favourites; and those who are attached to the Court, become objects of hatred to the rest of the nobility. This makes the existence of two parties the rule among them; a condition which is inevitable, and even a necessity, in countries where they will have kings and at the same time preserve their liberty. What concerns the nation is regulated by the States-General, which they call Diets. These Diets are by the law of the kingdom to be held alternately in Poland and Lithuania. The deputies do business there with sword in hand, like the old Sarmatæ, from whom they are descended; and sometimes too in a state of intoxication, a vice to which the Sarmatæ were strangers. Every nobleman deputed to these States-General has the right the Roman tribunes had of vetoing the laws of the Senate. One nobleman, by saying “I protest,” can put a stop to the unanimous resolutions of all the rest; and if he leaves the place where the Diet is held they are obliged to separate.

To the disorders arising from this law they apply a remedy still more dangerous. There are almost always two factions in Poland; as unanimity in the Diet is almost impossible, each party forms confederacies, in which decisions are made by the majority’s votes, without regard to the minority.

These assemblies, which are unconstitutional but authorized by precedent, are held in the king’s name, though often without his consent and against his interests, much in the same way as the League in France made use of Henry III’s name to undermine his power, or as the Parliament in England, which executed Charles I, began by putting the King’s name at the head of all the Acts they passed to destroy him. When the troubles are ended, then it is the function of the General Diets to annul the acts of these cabals; any Diet can also repeal the acts of its predecessors, because one king can abolish the laws of his predecessors, or his own laws.

The nobility which makes the laws for the State is also its defence. They muster on horseback on great occasions, and can make a corps of more than 100,000 men. This great body, called “Pospolite,” moves with difficulty, and is ill-governed. Difficulties of provisions and forage make it impossible for them to keep together long; they lack discipline, experience and obedience, but their strong love of liberty makes them always formidable. They may be conquered, dispersed, or even kept for a time in bonds, but they soon shake off the yoke; they compare themselves to reeds, which a storm will bend to the ground, and which will rise when the wind drops. It is for this reason that they have no fortified towns—they themselves are to be the only bulwarks of the State; they never let their king build fortresses, lest he should use them rather for their oppression than for their defence; their country is quite open, except for two or three frontier towns, and if in any of their wars, civil or foreign, they resolve to sustain a siege, they are obliged to hastily raise earth fortifications, repair old half-ruined walls, and enlarge the half-choked ditches; then the town is taken before the entrenchments are finished.

The Pospolite is not always on horses to guard the country; they only form by order of the Diet, or, in times of great danger, by that of the king.

The ordinary protection of Poland is in the hands of a force which the State is obliged to support. It is composed of two bodies independent of each other under two different generals. The two generals are independent of each other, and though they are nominated by the king, are responsible to the State alone and have supreme authority over their troops. The colonels are absolute masters of their regiments, and it is their affair to get them what sustenance they can, and to pay them; but as they are seldom paid themselves, they ravage the country, and ruin the farmers to satisfy their own rapacity, and that of their soldiers. The Polish lords appear in these armies with more magnificence than in civil life, and their tents are finer than their houses. The cavalry, which makes up two-thirds of the army, is almost entirely composed of noblemen, and is remarkable for the gracefulness of the horses and the richness of the accoutrements.

Their men-at-arms especially, who are called either hussars or pancernes, are always attended by several valets, who lead their horses, which have ornamented bridles with plates of silver and silver nails, embroidered saddles, saddle-bows and gilt stirrups, sometimes made of massive silver, with saddle-cloth trailing in the fashion of the Turks, whose magnificence the Poles imitate as nearly as possible.

But though the cavalry is so gorgeous the foot are wretched, ill-clad, ill-armed, without uniform clothes or anything regular; at least that is how they were up to 1710. These foot-soldiers, who are like wandering Tartars, bear hunger, cold, fatigue, and all the hardship of war with incredible endurance. The characteristics of the ancient Sarmatæ, their ancestors, can still be seen in the Poles; the same lack of discipline, the same fury in assault, the same readiness to run away and to return to the field, the same mad fury of slaughter when they are victorious.

The King of Poland at first consoled himself with the idea that these two armies would fight for him, that the Polish Pospolite would arm at his orders, and that all these forces, united with his Saxon subjects and his Russian allies, would make up a multitude before whom the small Swedish force would not dare to appear. But he saw himself suddenly deprived of this means of succour through the very pains which he had taken to have them all at once.

Accustomed in his hereditary dominions to absolute power, he was perhaps too confident that he could govern Poland like Saxony.

The beginning of his reign raised malcontents, his very first acts irritated the party which was opposed to his election, and alienated almost all the rest. The Poles resented the fact that their towns were filled with Saxon garrisons and their frontiers with troops. The nation, far more anxious to maintain their own liberties than to attack their neighbours, did not consider the king’s attack on Sweden and his invasion of Livonia as advantageous to the State. It is difficult to deceive a free nation concerning its interests. The Poles saw that if this war, undertaken against their wishes, was unsuccessful, their country, unprotected on every side, would fall a prey to the King of Sweden, and that if it succeeded they would be subdued by their own king, who as soon as he was master of Livonia as well as Saxony would be able to hem in Poland between these two countries.

In the face of this alternative, of either being enslaved by the king whom they had elected, or of having their land ravaged by Charles who was justly enraged, they raised a great outcry against a war which they believed was rather declared against themselves than against Sweden. They regarded the Saxons and the Russians as the instruments of their bondage. And when the King of Sweden had overcome all that opposed him, and was advancing with a victorious army into the heart of Lithuania, they opposed the King violently, and with the more freedom because they were in misery.

Lithuania was then divided into two parties, that of the Princess Sapieha, and that of Oginski. These two factions had begun by private quarrels, and degenerated into civil war.

The King of Sweden was on the side of the Princess Sapieha; and Oginski, ill supported by the Saxons, found his party almost destroyed. The Lithuanian army, which these troubles and lack of money was reducing to a small number, was partly dispersed by the conqueror. The few who sided with the King of Poland were small bodies of wandering troops, who lived by spoil. So that Augustus found nothing in Lithuania but the weakness of his own party, the hate of his subjects, and a foreign army led by an offended, victorious and implacable king.

There was certainly an army in Poland, but instead of 38,000 men, the number prescribed by law, there were not 18,000. Then it was not only ill-armed and ill-paid, but the generals were undecided on any course of action. The King’s best course was to command the nobility to follow him; but he dare not run the risk of a refusal, which would increase his weakness by disclosing it.

In this state of trouble and uncertainty, all the counts and dukes demanded a Parliament of the King, just as in England, in times of crisis, the different bodies of the State present addresses to the King beseeching him to call a Parliament. Augustus was more in need of an army than of a Parliament where the actions of kings are criticized. But he was forced to call one, that he might not provoke the nation irretrievably. A Diet was therefore summoned to meet at Warsaw, on the 2nd of December, 1701. He soon saw that Charles XII had as much influence in the Assembly as he had himself. The party of the Sapieha, the Lubomirski, and their friends, Count Leczinski, treasurer of the crown, who owed his fortune to King Augustus, and above all the partisans of the Sobieski, were all secretly for the King of Sweden.

The most influential of them, and the most dangerous enemy that the King of Poland had, was Cardinal Radjouski, archbishop of Gnesna, primate of the kingdom and president of the Diet; his conduct was full of duplicity and artifice, and he was entirely dominated by an ambitious woman whom the Swedes called Madame la Cardinale, and who never ceased to urge him to intrigue and faction. King John Sobieski, Augustus’s predecessor, had first made him archbishop of Varmia and vice-chancellor of the kingdom. By favour of the same Prince, the Bishop got a Cardinal’s hat; this dignity soon opened his way to the primacy, and thus uniting in his person all that impresses people, he was able to undertake great enterprises with impunity.

On the death of John he exerted his interest to place Jacques Sobieski on the throne; but the great hate they bore the father, great as he was, led to the rejection of the son. Then the Cardinal-Primate united with the Abbé Polignac, ambassador from France, to give the crown to the Prince of Conti, who actually was elected.

But the money and the troops of the Saxons got the better of him. At last he allowed himself to be drawn into the party which crowned the Elector of Saxony, and waited impatiently for a chance of sowing dissension between the nation and the new king.

The victories of Charles XII, protector of Prince James Sobiesky, the civil war in Lithuania, the general dissatisfaction of all his people with King Augustus, made the Cardinal-Primate hope that the time had come when he might send Augustus back into Saxony, and open the way to the throne for Prince John. This Prince, who had formerly been the innocent object of the Poles’ hatred, was beginning to be their idol, in proportion as King Augustus lost their favour; but he dare not even conceive such a revolution, of which the Cardinal had insensibly laid the foundations.

At first he seemed to wish to reconcile the King with the republic. He sent circular letters apparently dictated by the spirit of concord and charity, a common and well-known snare, but one by which men are always caught; he wrote a touching letter to the King of Sweden, imploring him, in the name of Him whom all Christians adore, to give peace to Poland and her King. Charles XII answered the Cardinal’s intentions rather than his words, for he remained with his victorious army in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, declaring that he had no desire to disturb the Diet, that he was making war on Augustus and the Saxons, and not on Poland, and that far from attacking the State he had come to save it from oppression. These letters and answers were for public perusal. The springs which made the Diet act were the emissaries, who continually came and went between the Cardinal and Count Piper, and the private meetings held at this prelate’s house. They proposed to send an embassy to Charles XII, and were unanimous in their demands that their King should not call in the aid of any more Russians, and that he should send his Saxon troops away.

Augustus’s bad luck had already brought about what the Diet asked him. The treaty made secretly with the Russians at Birzen had turned out to be as useless as it had seemed formidable. He was far from being able to send the Czar the 15,000 men he had promised to raise in the Empire.

The Czar himself, a dangerous enemy of Poland, was not at all anxious at that time to help a divided kingdom, hoping to have some share in the spoils. He contented himself with sending 20,000 Russians into Lithuania, and they did more mischief than the Swedes, fleeing continually before the conqueror, and ravaging Polish territory, till at last, being chased by the Swedish generals and finding nothing else to ravage, they returned in bands to their own country. As to the scattered remains of the Saxon army which had been beaten at Riga, King Augustus sent them to winter and recruit in Saxony, that this sacrifice might regain him the affections of the Polish nation in his present difficult position.

Then the war was abandoned for a series of intrigues, and the Diet divided into almost as many factions as there were dukedoms. One day the interests of King Augustus were paramount, the next they were rejected. Everybody clamoured for liberty and justice, yet they had no conception of either; the time was spent in secret cabals and public debate. The Diet knew nothing about what they might or should do; great assemblies seldom agree on good measures in time of civil uproar, because bold men in such assemblies are generally factious, while more reliable men are usually timid.

The Diet broke up in disorder on the 17th of February, 1702, after three months’ plotting and irresolution. The senators, that is, the dukes and the bishops, remained at Warsaw. The Polish Senate has the right of making laws provisionally, which the Diets seldom disannul; this body, much less cumbrous and more used to business, was far less disturbed, and quickly came to a resolution.

They agreed to send the embassy proposed in the Diet to the King of Sweden, and also that the Pospolite should mount and hold themselves ready for any emergency. They also made several regulations to appease the troubles in Lithuania, and still more to diminish the King’s authority, though it was less to be feared than Charles’s.

Augustus preferred to receive hard conditions from his conqueror than from his subjects; he therefore determined to sue for peace with the King of Sweden, and was on the point of negotiating with him. He was obliged to keep this step secret from the Senate, whom he regarded as a still more implacable foe. As the affair was difficult he intrusted it to the Countess of Königsmarck, a Swedish lady of high rank to whom he was then attached. This lady, who was celebrated throughout the world for her wit and beauty, was more capable than any minister of bringing a negotiation to a successful issue. Besides, as she had some property in Charles’s dominions, and had been long a member of his Court, she had a plausible reason for waiting on the Prince. She came then to the Swedish camp in Lithuania, and first applied to Count Piper, who too lightly promised her an audience of his master.

The Countess, among the talents which made her one of the most delightful persons in Europe, had a gift for speaking several languages like a native, and would sometimes amuse herself by making French verses which might have been written at Versailles. She made some for Charles XII. She introduced the gods of antiquity, praising his different virtues, and ended as follows—

“Enfin chacun des Dieux discourant à sa gloire,

Le plaçait par avance au temple de mémoire:

Mais Venus ni Bacchus n’en dirent pas un mot.”

All her wit and charm were lost on such a man as the King of Sweden; he obstinately refused to see her. She planned to intercept him when he was taking his usual horse-exercise. Thus meeting him one day in a very narrow lane she alighted as soon as she saw him. The King bowed without a word, turned his horse and rode straight back. So that the only satisfaction the Countess got from her journey was the conviction that she was the only person of whom the King was afraid.

The King of Poland was then obliged to throw himself into the arms of the Senate. He made them two proposals by means of the Count of Mariemburg; either that they should leave him the control of the army, which he would pay two quarters in advance out of his own pocket, or else that they should allow him to bring 12,000 Saxons into Poland. The Cardinal replied as severely as the King of Sweden had done. He told the Count of Mariemburg, in the name of the Assembly, “That they had decided to send an embassy to Charles XII, and that it was not his affair to introduce Saxons.”

In this extremity the King was anxious to preserve at least a semblance of royal authority. He sent one of his chamberlains to Charles to inquire when and how his Swedish Majesty would receive the embassy of the King, his master, and of the State. Unfortunately they had neglected to provide this messenger with a passport; so Charles threw him into prison, with the remark that he was waiting for an embassy from the State, and none from King Augustus.

Then Charles, leaving garrisons behind him in some of the Lithuanian towns, advanced to Grodno, a town famous in Europe for the Diets held there, but ill-built and worse fortified. Some miles away from Grodno he met the embassy sent by the Polish State. Charles XII received them in his tent with some display of military pomp; their proposals were full of evasion and obscurity, they seemed afraid of Charles, and disliked Augustus, but they were ashamed of deposing a king whom they had elected at the order of a foreigner. Nothing was settled, and Charles gave them to understand that he would give them a decision at Warsaw.

His march was preceded by a manifesto which the Cardinal and his party spread over Poland in eight days. By this document Charles invited all the Poles to join him in vengeance, pretending that their interests were the same. They were, as a matter of fact, very different, but the manifesto, seconded by a great party, by disorder in the Senate and by the approach of the conqueror, made a great impression. They were obliged to own Charles for a protector, since it was his will, and it was well for them that he was content with this title. The Senators who were opposed to Augustus advertised the manifesto in his very face, and those who were on his side kept silence. At last when they heard that Charles was advancing by forced marches, they all took panic, and prepared to flee. The Cardinal was one of the first to leave Warsaw, the majority hastened to flee, some to await the issue of affairs on their own estates, some to arm their adherents. With the King there remained only the Imperial and Russian ambassadors, the Pope’s Legate, and some few bishops and counts, who were attached to him. He was forced to flee, and nothing had yet been decided in his favour. Before his departure, he hastened to take counsel with the small number of Senators who remained. But though they were anxious to serve him they were still Poles, and had all got so great an aversion for Saxon troops, that they dare not allow him to bring 6,000 men for his defence, and they further voted that these 6,000 men should be commanded by the Grand Duke of Poland, and immediately sent back after peace had been made. As to the armies of the republic, they put them at his disposal.

After this settlement the King left Warsaw, being too weak to oppose the enemy, and little satisfied with his own party. He at once published his orders for assembling the Pospolite and the armies, which were little more than a name.

There was nothing to be hoped from Lithuania, where the Swedes were posted; while the Polish army, reduced in number, lacked arms, provisions and the will to fight. The majority of the nobles, intimidated, undecided, or disaffected, stayed on their own lands. It was in vain that the King, authorized by law, ordered every noble to appear on horseback under pain of death, and to follow him; they began to argue that they need not obey him. His chief trust was in the troops of the Electorate, where, as the form of government was absolute, he did not fear disobedience. He had already given orders to 2,000 Saxons, who were marching rapidly. He also recalled 8,000, which he had promised to the Emperor for the French war, but which in his difficult position he was forced to withdraw. The introduction of so many Saxons into Poland meant the provocation of general disaffection, and the violation of the law made by his own party, allowing him a force of only 6,000. But he realized that if he were victor they would not dare to complain, while if he were beaten they would never forgive the introduction of 6,000 men. While his soldiers were arriving in groups, and he was passing from county to county collecting the nobles who adhered to him, the King of Sweden at last arrived before Warsaw on the 5th of May, 1702. The gates were opened to him at the first summons; he sent away the Polish garrison, disbanded the militia, set up military posts of his own everywhere, and ordered the inhabitants to disarm; then content with that, and not wishing to exasperate them, he only demanded a tribute of 100,000 livres. King Augustus was at that time assembling his forces at Cracow, and was very surprised to see the Cardinal-Primate among them. This man wished, perhaps, to maintain an external reputation to the last, and to dethrone his King with every mark of outward respect. He gave him to understand that the King of Sweden would grant reasonable terms, and humbly asked permission to go to see the King. King Augustus granted what he was powerless to refuse, and so left him free to do him an injury. The Cardinal hastened immediately to see the King of Sweden, to whom he had not yet ventured to present himself. He met the Prince at Prague, not far from Warsaw, but without the ceremony which had been shown towards the ambassadors of the State.

He found the conqueror clad in a dress of coarse blue cloth with brass buttons, jack-boots, and buffalo-skin gloves reaching to the elbow, in a room without hangings, together with the Duke of Holstein, his brother-in-law, Count Piper, his prime minister, and several officers. The King came forward to meet the Cardinal, and they stood talking for a quarter of an hour, when Charles concluded by saying aloud, “I will never grant the Poles peace till they have elected another king.” The Cardinal, who had expected this, immediately reported it to all the counts, saying that he was most sorry about it, but pointing out the necessity for complying with the conqueror’s wishes.

At this news the King of Poland saw that he must either lose his crown or defend it in battle, and he put forth his best resources for this last contest. All his Saxon forces had arrived from the frontiers of Saxony. The nobility of the Palatinate of Cracow, where he still was, came in a body to offer him their services. He personally exhorted every one of these to remember the oaths they had taken, and they promised him that they would fight to the last drop of their blood in his defence. Fortified by this help, and by the troops called the crown corps, he went for the first time to attack the King of Sweden, and soon found him advancing towards Cracow.

The two Kings met on the 19th of July, 1702, in a large plain near Clissau, between Warsaw and Cracow. Augustus had nearly 20,000 men, and Charles not more than 12,000; the battle began by a discharge of artillery. At the first volley, discharged by the Saxons, the Duke of Holstein, who commanded the Swedish cavalry, a young prince of great courage and valour, received a cannon-shot in his loins. The King asked if he were dead, and when they answered in the affirmative he said nothing, the tears fell from his eyes, and then covering his face with his hands for a moment, he spurred his horse furiously, and rushed into the thick of the fight at the head of his guards.

The King of Poland did all that could be expected of a prince fighting for his crown; he thrice personally led his men in a charge, but the good fortune of Charles carried the day, and he gained a complete victory. The enemy’s camp, artillery and flags, and Augustus’s war-chest were left in his hands.

He did not delay on the field of battle, but marched straight to Cracow, pursuing the King of Poland, who fled before him. The citizens of Cracow were brave enough to shut the gates upon the conqueror. He had them broken open, the garrison did not dare to fire a single shot; they were chased with whips and sticks to the castle, where the King entered with them. One gunner ventured to prepare to fire a cannon; Charles rushed up to him and snatched the match away; he then threw himself at the King’s feet. Three Swedish regiments were lodged at free quarters in the town, and the citizens were taxed by a tribute of 100,000 rixdollars. Count Steinbock, having heard that some treasure had been hidden in the tomb of the Polish kings, in the Church of Saint Nicholas at Cracow, had them opened; they only found gold and silver ornaments belonging to the church; they took some of them and Charles sent a golden chalice to a Swedish church; this would have raised the Polish Catholics against him, if anything could have withstood the terror inspired by his arms. He left Cracow fully resolved to pursue Augustus without intermission, but within a few miles of the city his horse fell and broke his thigh-bone, so that he had to be carried back to Cracow, where he lay in bed in the hands of the surgeons six weeks. This accident gave Augustus breathing space. He had the report immediately spread throughout Poland and Germany that Charles had been killed by his fall. This false report, which was believed for some time, filled all men’s minds with astonishment and uncertainty.

During this slight interval he assembled all the orders of the kingdom to Mariemburg. The meeting was a large one, and few of the Counts refused to send their deputies.

He regained popularity by presents, promises, and the affability which is so necessary to absolute kings to make them popular, and to elective kings as an added support to their power. The Diet was soon undeceived concerning the false report, but the impulse had already been given to that great body, and they allowed themselves to be carried along by the impulse, and all the members swore fidelity to the King.

The Cardinal himself, pretending to be still attached to King Augustus, came to the Diet. He kissed the King’s hand, and did not scruple to take the oath with the rest. The oath implied that they had never attempted, and never would attempt anything against Augustus. The King excused the Cardinal from the first part of the oath, and he blushed as he swore to the rest.

This Diet resolved that the republic of Poland should maintain an army of 50,000 men at their own expense for the service of the State, that they should give the Swedes six weeks to declare for peace or war, and the same time to the Princess Sapieha, the authors of the troubles in Lithuania, to come and beg pardon of the King of Poland.

In the meantime the King of Sweden was cured of his wound, and carried everything before him. Still pursuing his plan of making the Poles dethrone their King themselves, he had, by means of the intrigues of the Cardinal, a new assembly called at Warsaw, to oppose that of Lubin. His generals pointed out to him that the affair might still be protracted and might at last prove abortive, that during this time the Russians were daily attacking the troops he had left behind in Livonia and Ingria, that the Swedes were not invariably successful, and that his presence there would in all probability shortly be necessary. Charles, who was as dogged in the carrying out of his plans as he was brisk in his action, answered, “Should I stay here fifty years, I would not leave the place till I have dethroned the King of Poland.”

He left the Assembly of Warsaw to dispute with that of Lubin in debates and writings, and to seek precedents to justify their proceedings in the laws of kingdoms, laws which are always equivocable, and interpreted by each party at will.

For himself, having increased his victorious troops by 6,000 cavalry and 8,000 infantry, he marched against the rest of the Saxon army he had beaten at Clissau, and which had time to rally and recruit while he had been kept in bed by his fall.

This army avoided him and withdrew towards Brussels on the north-west of Warsaw. The river Bug lay between him and the enemy. Charles swam across at the head of his horse, while the infantry sought a ford higher up.

On May 1, 1703, he came upon the Saxons at a place called Pultask. They were commanded by General Stenau and were about 10,000 in number. The King of Sweden in his precipitate march had not brought more with him, being sure that fewer would have sufficed. The fear of his arms was so great that one half of the army ran away at his approach.

General Stenau held his ground for a few minutes with two regiments; but the moment after he was drawn into the general retreat of his army, which was dispersed before it was beaten. The Swedes did not make 1,000 prisoners, nor were there 600 killed; they had more difficulty in pursuing than in defeating them.

Augustus, who had nothing left but the scattered remnants of the Saxons who had been beaten on all sides, hastily withdrew to Thorn, a town in the kingdom of Prussia, on the Vistula, and under Polish protection. Charles at once prepared to besiege it. The King of Poland, realizing his danger, withdrew to Saxony, but Charles, in spite of brisk marches, swimming across rivers, hurrying along with his infantry, and riding behind his cavalry, was not able to bring his cannon up to Thorn; he was obliged to wait till it was sent him from Sweden by sea.

In the meantime, he took up a position within some miles of the town, and would often advance too near the ramparts to reconnoitre; the plain coat that he always wore was of greater service to him than he had ever expected on these dangerous walks; it protected him from being marked out by the enemy for a shot. One day, when he had gone very near with one of his generals, called Lieven, who was dressed in blue trimmed with gold, he feared that he would be seen. With the magnanimity which was natural to him, which prevented him from remembering that he was exposing his own life for a subject, he told Lieven to walk behind him. Lieven, realizing too late the mistake he had made in putting on a noticeable uniform which brought those near him also into risk, and being equally afraid for the King’s safety in whatever place he was, hesitated as to whether he ought to obey him. While he was debating with himself for a second, the King took him by the arm, and screened him: at that very instant a discharge of cannon took them in the flank, and struck the general dead on the very spot which the King had just left. The death of this man, killed directly in his stead, and because he was trying to save him, confirmed him in the opinion he had always had about predestination, and made him believe that his fate which had saved him under such extraordinary circumstances was reserving him for the execution of great designs.

All his schemes succeeded, and he was equally fortunate in negotiations and in war; his influence was felt throughout the whole of Poland, for his Grand Marshal Renschild was in the heart of those dominions with a large section of the army. Nearly 30,000 generals, scattered through the north and east on the Russian frontier, withstood the efforts of the whole Russian Empire; and Charles was in the west, at the other end of Poland, at the head of picked troops.

The King of Denmark, tied down by the treaty of Travendal, which he was too weak to break, remained quiet. He was prudently afraid of showing his vexation at seeing the King of Sweden so near his estates. Further, towards the south-west, between the Elbe and Weser, lay the Duchy of Bremen, the last territory formerly acquired by the Swedes, filled with strong garrisons, and opening the way for the conqueror to Saxony and the Empire. Thus from the German Ocean almost to the Gulf of Borysthenes, that is, across the whole breadth of Europe, and up to the gates of Moscow, all was in consternation, and a general revolution was imminent. His vessels were masters of the Baltic, and employed in transporting prisoners from Poland into his own country. Sweden alone, at peace during these great doings, was rejoicing in deep peace, and in the glory of her King, for which she did not have to pay the price, for his victorious troops were maintained at the expense of the conquered.

During this general peace of the North before the arms of Charles XII, the town of Dantzig ventured to offend him. Fourteen frigates and forty transports were bringing the King reinforcements of 6,000 men, with cannon and ammunition to finish the siege of Thorn. These had to pass up the Vistula; at the mouth of that river lies the rich town of Dantzig, a free town, enjoying the same privileges in Poland as the Imperial towns have in Germany. Its liberty had been alternately attacked by the Danes, Swedes, and some German princes, and was only saved by the mutual jealousy of these Powers. Count Steinbock, one of the Swedish generals, assembled the magistrates in the name of the King, and demanded a passage and ammunition for his troops. The magistrates, showing an unusual rashness in those treating with their superior, dare neither absolutely refuse nor yet exactly grant what he demanded. The general compelled them to give him more than he had asked; and even exacted from the town a contribution of 100,000 crowns to make up for their rash denial.

At last the recruits, the cannon and the ammunition having arrived before Thorn, the siege was begun on the 22nd of September. Robel, governor of the place, defended it for a month with a garrison of 5,000 men, and then it was forced to surrender at discretion. Robel was presented unarmed to the King. His Majesty never missed a chance of honouring merit in a foe, and gave him a sword with his own hand, together with a considerable present of money, and sent him away on parole. But the town, which was small and poor, was condemned to pay 40,000 crowns, an excessive sum for it.

Elbing, standing on an arm of the Vistula, was founded by the Teutonic Knights, and had been annexed to Poland. It did not take advantage of the mistake of the Dantzig townsfolk, hesitated too long about giving passage to the Swedes, and was more severely punished than Dantzig.

Charles entered it in person on the 13th of December, at the head of 4,000 men armed with bayonets. The inhabitants, in terror, threw themselves upon their knees in the streets, and begged for mercy. He disarmed them, quartered his troops in their houses, and then summoning the chief magistrate he demanded a sum of 260,000 crowns, to be handed over that very day. He seized the 200 pieces of cannon, and the 400,000 charges of powder, which were in the town; a victory gained would not have brought him so many advantages. All these successes were the precursors to the dethroning of King Augustus.

The Cardinal had scarcely taken the oath of fealty to his King when he repaired to the assembly at Warsaw, still under pretence of making peace. He talked of nothing but peace and obedience, but was attended by 3,000 soldiers raised on his own estate. At last he threw off the mask, and declared in the name of the Assembly that “Augustus, Elector of Saxony, was incapable of wearing the crown of Poland.” They then unanimously pronounced the throne vacant.

The intention of the King of Sweden, and so necessarily of this Diet, was to give the throne to the Prince Jacques Sobieski, whose father Jean had possessed it.

Jacques Sobieski was then at Breslau, in Silesia, impatiently waiting for the crown which his father had worn.

One day he was hunting some miles from Breslau, with Prince Constantine, one of his brothers, when thirty Saxon cavaliers, sent secretly by King Augustus, suddenly rushed from a neighbouring wood, surrounded the two princes, and carried them off without resistance. Relays of horses were ready a little distance off, on which they were at once taken to Leipzig, and closely guarded.

This step upset the plans of Charles, the Cardinal and the Assembly of Warsaw.

Fortune, which sports with crowned heads, almost brought the King of Poland to the point of being taken himself. He was at table, three miles from Cracow, relying on an advanced guard, posted at a distance, when General Renschild appeared suddenly, after having surprised this guard. The King of Poland had only time to mount with eleven others. The general pursued him for eight days, expecting to seize him at any moment. The King had almost reached Sendomir; the Swedish general was still in pursuit, and it was only through extraordinary good luck that the Prince escaped.

In the meantime the King’s party and that of the Cardinal were calling each other traitors to their country.

The army of the Crown was divided into two factions. Augustus, forced at last to accept help from the Russians, regretted that he had not applied to them sooner; he hurried alternately into Saxony, where his resources were at an end, and into Poland where they dare not help him. On the other hand, the King of Sweden was ruling calmly and successfully in Poland. Count Piper, who was as great a politician as his master was a hero, seized the opportunity to advise Charles to take the crown of Poland for himself; he pointed out to him how easily he could carry out the scheme with a victorious army and a powerful party in the heart of a kingdom which he had already subdued; he tempted him by the title of Defender of the Reformed Faith, a name which flattered Charles’s ambition. He could, he said, easily play (in Poland) the part which Gustavus Vasa had played in Sweden, and introduce Lutheranism, and break the tyranny of the nobility and the clergy over the people. Charles was tempted for a moment; but glory was his idol; he sacrificed to it both his interests and the pleasure he would have had in taking Poland from the Pope. He told Count Piper that he would rather give away kingdoms than gain them, and added smiling, “You were born to be the minister of an Italian prince.”

Charles was still near Thorn, in that part of the kingdom of Prussia which belongs to Poland; from there he had an eye on what was going on at Warsaw, and kept his powerful neighbours in awe. Prince Alexander, brother of the two Sobieskis, who had been carried off to Silesia, came to ask vengeance of him. The King was all the more ready to grant it, because he thought it easy, and that he would gain his own vengeance too. But as he was eager to give Poland a king, he proposed that Prince Alexander should take the crown, which fortune seemed bent on denying to his brother. He did not in the least expect a refusal, but Prince Alexander told him that nothing would ever persuade him to take advantage of his elder brother’s misfortune. The King of Sweden, Count Piper, all his friends, and especially the young Palatine of Posnania, Stanislas Leczinski, pressed him to accept. But he was decided. The neighbouring princes were astonished at the news, and did not know which to admire most—a king who at the age of twenty-two gave away the crown of Poland, or Prince Alexander who refused it.

BOOK III

BOOK III

Stanislas Leczinski chosen King of Poland—Death of the Cardinal-Primate—Great retreat of General Schullemburg—Exploits of the Czar—Foundation of Petersburg—Charles’s entry into Saxony—The peace of Altranstadt—Augustus abdicates in favour of Stanislas—General Patkul, the Czar’s plenipotentiary, is broken on the wheel, and quartered—Charles receives the ambassadors of foreign princes in Saxony—He also goes to Dresden to see Augustus before his departure.

YOUNG Stanislas Leczinski was therefore deputed by the Assembly at Warsaw to give the King of Sweden an account of several differences that had arisen among them since Jacques had been carried off. Stanislas’ personal appearance was pleasing, full of courage and sweetness, with that frank open air which is the greatest of outward advantages, and a better seconder of a man’s words than eloquence itself. Charles was impressed by his discreet allusions to King Augustus, the Assembly, the Cardinal and the different interests which rent Poland. King Stanislas did the writer the honour of relating his conversation with the King, which took place in Latin. “How can we hold an election if the two Princes and Constantine are absent?” he inquired. “How can you get the State out of the difficulty without an election?” answered the King.

This conversation was the only intrigue which placed Stanislas on his throne. Charles prolonged the conversation purposely, that he might the better sound the young deputy’s genius. After the conference he said aloud that he had never met a man so fit to reconcile all parties. He immediately made inquiries about the character of Leczinski, and found that he was brave and inured to fatigue, that he always slept on a kind of straw mattress, and that he required no personal service from his attendants; that he was more temperate than is usual in that climate, economical, adored by his servants, and perhaps the only popular prince in Poland, at a time when all ties were broken but those of interest and faction. This character, which corresponded in many respects with his own, made him make up his mind finally. He remarked aloud after the meeting, “There is a man who will always be my friend,” and people knew that that meant, “There is a man who shall be king.”

When the Primate of Poland heard that the King had nominated the Palatine Leczinski, he hastened to Charles to try to make him change his mind, for he wished to put the crown on the head of a certain Lubomirski. “But what objection have you to Stanislas?” asked the conqueror. “Sire,” said the Primate, “he is too young.” “He is much about my own age,” answered the King dryly, turning his back on the Prelate. Then he sent Count Horn to Warsaw at once to notify the Assembly that they must elect a king in three days, and that they must choose Stanislas Leczinski. Count Horn arrived on the 7th July, and fixed the election for the 12th, just as if he were arranging the decampment of a battalion. The Cardinal-Primate, disappointed of the fruit of so many intrigues, returned to the Assembly, where he left no stone unturned to ruin the election in which he had had no share; but the King of Sweden arrived incognito at Warsaw, so that he had to be silent. All that the Primate could do was to absent himself from the election: he took up the position of a neutral, being unable to oppose the conqueror and unwilling to assist him.

On Saturday, 12th July, the day appointed for the election, the Assembly met at Colo, at about three in the afternoon. They met there by arrangement, and the Bishop of Posnania presided instead of the Cardinal. Count Horn and two other officers were present at the ceremony, as ambassadors extraordinary from Charles to the Republic. The session lasted till nine in the evening, and the Bishop brought it to an end by declaring in the name of the Diet that Stanislas was elected King of Poland. They all threw their caps into the air, and the acclamations stifled the cries of the opposers.

It was no use for the Cardinal and his party to stay away from the elections; they were all obliged the next day to come and pay homage to the new King, who received them as if he were quite satisfied with their conduct; their greatest mortification was that they had to attend him to the King of Sweden’s quarters. His Majesty gave all honours to the King he had just made, and, to add weight to his new dignity, assigned money and troops for his use.

Charles XII left Warsaw at once to proceed to the completion of the conquest of Poland. He had ordered his army to meet before Leopold, the capital of the great Palatinate of Russia, a place important in itself, but still more so for the riches it held. It was thought that by means of the fortifications, which King Augustus had made there, it would hold out fifteen days. The conqueror invested it on the 5th, and took it the following day by assault. All who resisted were put to the sword. The victors, who were now masters of the town, did not disperse for pillage, in spite of the reports concerning treasure in Leopold: they ranged themselves in battle array in the great square. The King then proclaimed, by sounding a trumpet, that all who had anything belonging to King Augustus or his adherents should bring them themselves before sunset on pain of death. The arrangements were so well made that few dare disobey him, and they brought him 400 chests, filled with gold and silver coin, plate and other things of value.

The beginning of Stanislas’ reign was contemporaneous with a very different event. Some business for which he must be present had forced him to remain in Warsaw: he had with him his mother, his wife and two daughters; the Cardinal, the Bishop of Posnania and some prominent Poles made up his new court. His guards were 6,000 Poles of the royal army, who had lately entered his service, but whose fidelity had not yet been tried. General Horn, governor of the town, had only about 1,500 Swedes with him. They were at Warsaw in peace, and Stanislas was reckoning on starting in a few days for the conquest of Leopold, when suddenly they heard that an immense army was approaching the town. It was King Augustus, who was making a fresh effort; by one of the finest marches ever made he was coming up with 20,000 men to fall on Warsaw, after having eluded the King of Sweden; his purpose was to kidnap his rival.

Warsaw was not fortified, and the Polish troops who were defending it were not reliable. There were those in the town from whom Augustus got information, and if Stanislas delayed he would be ruined. He sent his family to Posnania, under the guard of Polish troops upon which he could absolutely rely. It was in this disorder that he feared he had lost his second daughter, aged one; she was lost by a nurse, and they discovered her in a manger, in a neighbouring village, where she had been left. That is the story that I have often heard him tell. It was this child who, after many vicissitudes, became Queen of France. Several gentlemen took different roads. The new King went to join Charles XII, learning early to suffer disgrace, and forced to leave his capital six weeks after he had been made King.

Augustus entered the capital as a victorious and enraged sovereign. The inhabitants, already fleeced by the King of Sweden, were more heavily taxed still by Augustus. The Cardinal’s palace and all the houses of the confederate lords were given over to plunder. The most extraordinary thing about this transient revolution was that the Papal Legate, who had come with King Augustus, demanded in the name of his master that the Bishop of Posnania should be handed over to him as responsible to the Court of Rome for having abetted a Prince who had been put on the throne by the arms of a Lutheran.

The Court of Rome, which had always endeavoured to increase its temporal power by means of the spiritual, had long established a kind of jurisdiction in Poland, with the Papal Legate at the head of it. These ministers never missed a chance of extending their power, which was revered by the majority, but always resisted by those of greater discernment. They had claimed the right of judging all ecclesiastical cases, and had, especially during periods of disturbance, usurped many other privileges which they maintained until about 1728, when they were deprived of them: for such abuses are seldom reformed till they have become intolerable.

King Augustus, very glad to be able to punish the Bishop with decency, and at the same time to do something acceptable to the Roman Court, though he would have opposed it on any other occasion, delivered up the Polish Prelate into the hands of the Legate. The Bishop, having seen his palace plundered, was taken by the soldiers into Saxony, where he died.

Count Horn endured the continual fire of the enemy in the castle where he was enclosed for some time, but at last the place could hold out no longer, and he sounded a parley and gave himself up with his 15,000 Swedes. This was the first advantage which King Augustus gained in the torrent of his misfortune against the victorious Swedes.

Charles, accompanied by King Stanislas, went to meet his enemy at the head of the best part of his troops. The Saxon army fled before him; the towns for thirty miles round sent him their keys, and every day brought word of some advantage gained. Success became too familiar to Charles: he said it was hunting rather than fighting, and complained of never having to contest a victory.

For some time Augustus entrusted the command of his army to Count Schullemburg, a very able general: he certainly needed all his experience at the head of a discouraged army. He seemed more anxious to safeguard his master’s troops than to conquer: he made war by means of stratagem, while the two kings acted with vigour. He stole marches on them, seized advantageous posts, and sacrificed some of his cavalry to give time to his foot to withdraw in safety. He saved his troops by splendid retreats before an enemy with whom one could only gain this sort of glory.

Scarcely had he arrived in the Palatinate of Posnania than he heard that the two Kings, whom he had believed to be fifty leagues off, had covered the fifty leagues in nine days. He had not more than 8,000 foot and 1,000 horse; he had to hold his own against a superior force, the King of Sweden’s reputation and the fear which so many defeats had naturally inspired in the Saxons. He was always of opinion, in spite of the German generals, that the foot might hold their own against the horse in an open field, even without the benefit of chevaux de frise: and he ventured to try the experiment on that day against a victorious horse commanded by the two Kings and the most experienced of the Swedish generals. He took up such an advantageous position that he could not be surrounded; his first line knelt on the ground, and were armed with pikes and muskets; the soldiers were in close formation, and presented to the enemy’s horse a kind of rampart bristling with pikes and muskets; the second line bending a little over the shoulders of the first, shot over their heads, and the third, standing upright, fired simultaneously from behind the other two. The Swedes fell upon the Saxons with their usual impetuosity, but they awaited them without flinching. By this means the Swedes advanced in disorder, and the Saxons warded off the attack by keeping their ranks.

Schullemburg drew up his men in an oblong battalion, and, though wounded in five places, he retired in good order at midnight to the little town of Gurau, three leagues from the battle-field. He had scarcely time to breathe here before the two Kings appeared close behind him.

Beyond Gurau, towards the river Oder, lay a thick wood through which the Saxon general led his exhausted troops; the Swedes, without being nonplussed, pursued him through the thickets of the woods, finding their way without difficulty through places scarcely passable by foot-passengers. Yet the Saxons had not crossed the wood more than five hours before the Swedish cavalry appeared.

On the other side of the wood runs the river Parts, at the foot of a village named Rutsen. Schullemburg had sent forward in haste to get the boats ready, and had got his troops across the river: they were already lessened by half. Charles arrived just as Schullemburg had reached the other side; never had a conqueror pursued his enemy so rapidly.

The reputation of Schullemburg depended on his escaping from the King of Sweden, while the King thought his glory concerned in taking him and the rest of his army. He lost no time in making his cavalry swim the river. Thus the Saxons found themselves enclosed between the river Parts and the great river Oder, which rises in Silesia, and is very deep and rapid at this spot.

The ruin of Schullemburg seemed inevitable: but after having lost few soldiers he crossed the Oder during the night. Thus he saved his army, and Charles could not help saying, “To-day Schullemburg has conquered us.”

It was this same Schullemburg who was afterwards general of the Venetians, and he in whose honour the Republic erected a statue in Corfu, because he defended this rampart of Italy against the Turks. None but republics confer such honours; kings do not give rewards.