RUSSIA'S GREAT DAY.
In the autumn of 1707, Charles XII. made the first move in the great
game which was to decide for ever the supremacy of Sweden or of her
great rival of the north of Europe. Charles left his camp near Altstadt
with forty-five thousand men, marching through Poland; twenty thousand
were sent under Lewenhaupt to Riga, and fifteen thousand to Finland; in
all, the Swedish king put in the field eighty thousand of the finest
troops in the world.
Passing the winter at Grodno, Charles appeared early in the following
summer at Borisof. Here he found a Russian army ready to contest his
passage over the river Beresina; but he drove the Tsar's troops before
him, and defeated them again at Moghilef, and a third time at Smolensk,
which point he reached about September 1708.
He was now but ten days' march from Moscow, and there is no doubt
that, had he pushed straight on at this time, he might have, as he had
promised, dictated terms of peace from the Kremlin. There is no doubt,
also, that the Tsar himself began at this period to entertain grave
fears for the final outcome of the struggle, and made proposals of
peace which would practically have annulled his successes of the past
few years. Had Charles either accepted these terms or marched direct
to Moscow, the history of Russia from that day to this would have been
written very differently; but, fortunately for the Tsar and for Russia,
he did neither the one nor the other, and the reason for this was the
conviction of a certain individual of whom we have lately heard that
the run of luck which had attended the arms of Russia had received a
check.
Mazeppa, watching events from his castle at Batourin, observed with
disquietude the rapid and victorious advance of the dashing young
soldier whom all Europe at that time hailed as a second Alexander
of Macedon. He saw his lord the Tsar, in the person of his advanced
guards, driven from pillar to post, and flying before the soldiers
of Charles like sheep before the sheep-dog; and the politic soul of
Mazeppa quaked within him. Still he waited on, unwilling to take
decisive action until there remained no doubt whatever as to the
final issue of the struggle. When, however, the Swedish hosts arrived
at Smolensk, Mazeppa deemed that the moment had come when it behoved
him to declare for the stronger, and he despatched letters secretly to
Charles at his camp in that city, offering to place at the disposal of
the Swedish monarch his entire strength of fifty thousand lances.
On receiving this communication, Charles immediately altered his plans.
He quitted the highroad to Moscow, and turned aside into the Ukraine in
order to effect a junction with the Cossacks of Mazeppa.
This movement proved a fatal mistake. The Tsar had not been idle during
the last few months, and though his troops had met with no success in
their efforts to stop the onward march of Charles's hosts, Peter, with
his best officers and an army of about one hundred thousand men, had
still to be reckoned with before his Majesty of Sweden could carry out
his threat of dictating peace from the palace in Moscow.
No sooner had Charles turned aside into the Ukraine, thereby exposing
his flank to the Russian attack, than the Tsar saw his advantage, and
hastened towards the Borysthenes, or Dnieper, with all the speed he
could, at the head of a strong force of fifty thousand picked troops.
His object was to cut off the main Swedish body from communication
with the army of Lewenhaupt, which was hastening to join Charles in
the Ukraine, at a distance of twelve days' march behind him. With this
force was the whole of Charles's supply of provisions, upon which the
Swedish host relied for its maintenance during the approaching winter.
Peter, with whom was of course his faithful bear-hunter, in command of
the Semenofski regiment, fell upon Lewenhaupt near the banks of the
river Borysthenes. For three days a stubborn fight dragged on, and the
brave Swedes strove to break through the opposing ranks of the equally
valiant Russians; and when, at length, they cut their way through, and
the general joined his master at the river Desna, he found himself
at the head of but four thousand men--the rest of his army of twenty
thousand fine troops being either dead on the battle-field or prisoners
in the hands of the enemy, who had captured also all the guns and
ammunition, and, worst of all, the invaluable convoy of supplies upon
which the troops of Charles had relied.
This was a great day for the Tsar, and he celebrated his victory by
a grand Te Deum in the cathedral at Moscow, leaving Charles and his
famishing troops to winter as best they could in the Ukraine, in
company with their perfidious ally Mazeppa, who, instead of fifty
thousand lances, had provided but six thousand in all, the rest either
preferring to remain loyal to Russia, or else joining Charles, but
afterwards deserting. The Swedish army spent a wretched winter in the
Ukraine, and Charles lost half his men by hunger and cold.
Before departing for Moscow, the Tsar demolished Mazeppa's castle at
Batourin; and from that day to this, or until recent years, the name
of Mazeppa has been solemnly cursed once a year in all the churches of
Russia.
Mazeppa was safe with Charles, however, having discreetly fled before
the Tsar appeared, carrying with him two barrels of gold, in which form
he had consolidated the greater portion of his possessions.
The winter was spent by the Tsar, as well as by Boris, in busily
preparing for the crisis of Russia's fate--a crisis which could not
now be longer delayed, for the enemy was at the gates, and with the
spring would commence to knock loudly for admittance. When the troops
were collected and drilled into shape, Boris received a signal favour
from the Tsar in the command of a contingent of these forces, which
he was instructed to conduct southwards to Pultowa, a fortified city
on the river Vorskla, which had the advantage of commanding the main
road to Moscow as well as that of being close to the base of Charles's
operations. Boris had charge of large quantities of provisions and
ammunition for the use of the army during the coming season.
The trusty hunter safely reached his destination and took over the
command of the garrison at Pultowa. And none too soon, as it turned
out; for early in the spring Charles set out upon his march for Moscow,
and as a first step towards attaining his end, invested the fortress
of Pultowa, of which he expected to make short work. But Charles was
not so intimately acquainted with the character of Commandant Boris as
you, reader, and I; and all his efforts to bring the brave bear-hunter
and his men to submission were unavailing. On the contrary, he found
them perfectly ready and willing to meet him, in so far as fighting at
close quarters was concerned, and many a time did the Russian troops
sally out from behind their protecting walls and give battle to their
assailants in the open. On one of these occasions, Boris had the honour
of crossing swords a second time with his Swedish Majesty. The two
men met at the head of their respective parties, Charles being, as
usual, on horseback, the hunter afoot. Charles recognized his former
adversary immediately. "Ha!" he cried, "Mr. Russian, we are old friends
surely? There was a matter we left unfinished; come, lay on now. I am
on horseback; you shall have the first blow!"
Boris did not wait for a second invitation, but aimed one of his
bravest slashes at the king's head, which the king neatly turned aside,
aiming a furious blow at Boris in return, which went near to lopping
off one of the hunter's ears. Then the pair had a cut-and-thrust match,
each laying on at his best, until something startled the horse of
Charles and it swerved aside, just as the sword of Boris descended from
a vicious sweep at Sweden's most precious crest. Most unfortunately for
Charles, the sharp blade caught his foot in its descent and inflicted a
painful wound, while at the same moment the horse bolted and the duel
came to an indecisive termination.
On this occasion, as always, the sortie did no more than vex the
besiegers, and the enterprising party of Russians were soon driven
back. But Boris found that his men liked these sorties, as a change
from the dulness of the siege, and he was not the man to refuse them
their pleasure from prudential motives.
But the crisis was now at hand. In June, the Tsar, fearing for the
safety of Pultowa, hastened to the relief of the garrison with a force
of nearly sixty thousand men. He crossed the Vorskla and established
himself upon the same side of that river with the besiegers, arranging
his lines so that if the army of Charles should attack him and be
worsted in the fight they must be driven back to the angle formed by
the junction of the Vorskla and the Borysthenes. Here he strengthened
his position with redoubts mounted with heavy artillery, and awaited
developments; which he could afford to do, for his troops were amply
supplied with provisions and ammunition, whereas what was left of
Charles's force--about twenty-five thousand men--were in a wretched
condition by reason of the hardships they had endured for many months
while roughing it in the Ukraine.
The proud Charles, hearing that Peter intended to attack him,
immediately decided to take the initiative and be himself the
assailant. Still suffering from his wounded foot, he was carried to
battle in a litter, and, placing himself at the head of his troops, he
advanced to attack the Russian redoubts.
It was scarcely a fair fight, for Peter's force outnumbered that of
Charles by two to one, besides having the fortress of Pultowa with
its garrison at their back. But so bravely did the Swedes fight that
day, that at the first advance they reached and captured the first
Russian line of defence, and were actually raising cries of victory
when the Russians, encouraged by the Tsar himself, who fought all day
at the head of his men, made a tremendous effort and put a new aspect
upon the affair. Forth from the walls of Pultowa poured fresh masses
of Russians, with Boris at their head; the Swedes, at the point of
victory, wavered, but fought bravely on; the Russian guns redoubled
their efforts and poured a rain of cannon-balls among the ranks of
the assailants; Peter called upon his men to make their effort, and
like one man the Russian host, singing their soldier songs as they
went, advanced and drove the Swedes before them. In vain the gallant
Charles was borne up and down the lines in his litter, shouting,
fighting, encouraging; in vain Mazeppa and his Cossacks made charge
upon charge--for, in spite of all his faults, it must be admitted that
the hetman fought well this day and performed prodigies of valour.
The Russians would take no denial, but marched steadily forward. And
ever as they advanced they drove the Swedes before them; and ever as
the Swedish hosts retired the star of Sweden fell lower and lower in
the heavens, until, on the evening of Pultowa, it sank for ever in the
waters of the Borysthenes.
Boris, as well as his master, fought like a lion on this Russia's
greatest day. His great object during the fight was to come to close
quarters with the traitor Mazeppa; but though he was able at one moment
to arrive within speaking distance, he could not approach close enough
to exchange blows.
"Ha, traitor and liar!" Boris had shouted, as Mazeppa dashed past at
the head of his Cossacks, "is this your sworn love and devotion to the
Tsar? Come and answer for your lies!"
"My dear man," said the courtly hetman, "the rats leave a falling
house. Peter should have made a better fight last year. As for meeting
you now, I should be delighted, but there is no time for pleasure
to-day, I am too busy. _Au revoir!_"
Mazeppa certainly was busy, and it was no fault of his that his side
failed to gain the day.
Soon the battle became a mere rout. The Swedes were driven steadily
onward towards the angle of the two rivers; and here they were forced
to surrender to their pursuers, though a few hundred men, among whom
were Charles and Mazeppa, succeeded in crossing the waters of the
Borysthenes. About ten thousand had fallen on the field or in the
redoubts.
That night on the banks of the Borysthenes Peter pitched his tent in
joy and gratitude such as no words can describe. Weary as he was with
the tremendous exertion and excitement of the day, sleep would not
visit the aching eyes or soothe the restless brain of the victorious
Tsar, and he left his tent and strolled out in the quiet moonlight in
order to breathe the cool air of night and enjoy the luxury of a little
calm reflection upon the events of the day.
The July moon lay upon the face of the river, so lately crossed in hot
haste by Charles and the traitor Mazeppa. What were they doing at this
moment, thought Peter, and where were they, poor wretches?--hurrying
on, probably, in terror for their lives, somewhere in the heart of
yonder forest, their hopes turned to despair, their lives spoiled, the
greatness of Sweden buried for ever in the reddened soil of Pultowa
field; while he stood here and contemplated the same events from how
widely different a standpoint! To them Pultowa meant ruin, complete and
irretrievable; to him it told of a fatherland saved, of an empire whose
foundations this day had been secured for ever, of the removal of an
hereditary enemy whose existence as a first-class power in the north
of Europe must for ever have hampered and prevented the expansion of
Russia. And then, what a battle it had been! how his men had fought,
and how Charles's soldiers had fought also, to do them justice!
As the conqueror thus mused and watched the moon's broad highway over
the water, a man came up and disturbed the Tsar's reflections. It was
Boris. He, too, was unable to sleep after this exciting day, and had
wandered down to the river side to cool his heated brow in the fresh
night air. Peter grasped his old friend's hand solemnly and without a
word and wrung it until the bones crunched together; then he took the
hunter's arm and walked up and down by the river's bank in silence.
"Bear-eater," said the Tsar at length, "God has been very good to us
this day. The Neva is safe; we shall have the Baltic for our own. You
have served me well, my Boris, both this day and for many a day--ask
what you will of me!"
But Boris laughed, and said that he had all he desired and there was
nothing to ask.
"That is well," said Peter; "the wisest man is he who is the most
contented."
After a while the Tsar spoke again. "My Bear-eater," he said, "I am
so happy to-night that I even feel glad poor Charles escaped; but not
Mazeppa--not Mazeppa! Ha! if I had come within reach of the traitor!"
Peter burst out laughing. "Poor fellow," he said, "poor fellow! he
thought Charles was our master, my Boris--poor Charles the Twelfth--the
new Alexander--who is wandering among the wolves and the pine trees,
tired and cold and hungry, in yonder forest--poor fellow!" Then after a
pause, "Can you sleep to-night, Boris?" he asked.
Boris could not sleep, he said; he was too much affected by the
excitement and wild joy of the battle.
"Neither can I," said Peter. "Sit you down here and tell me a stirring
wolf tale or two, or a bear story--something which will take us both
from the events of the day. This will ease our brains, and we shall
sleep after it."
So the pair settled themselves upon the bank of the Dnieper and watched
the moonlight weld its silver ladder over the broad stream, and Boris
told many tales of adventure--of Nancy's bear, and of his little Katie
carried off by the wolves, and many others. And when he had done, and
glanced at his companion, lo! Peter--like that other monarch whom Byron
describes as listening on this very night to Mazeppa's tale in the
sanctuary of yonder dark forest--Peter, tired out with the joys and
exertions of this great day, "had been an hour asleep."