fight the battle over again, clause by clause, when a bill was brought in
to convert the Articles of Union into an act of Parliament. The English
House of Commons has always been supremely tolerant to troublesome and
even mischievous members, so long as they adhere to the forms of the
House--forms to be zealously guarded, since they were framed for averting
hasty legislation and the possible domination of an intolerant majority. It
was determined, however, that the impracticals and impedimenters should not
have their swing on this occasion, when the descent of a French army to
gather to its centre the Jacobitism still lingering in the country darkened
the political horizon. Both Houses had a full opportunity for discussing
the merits of every word in the treaty, and the risk of national ruin was
not to be encountered because they had not expended all their loquacity,
having expected another opportunity.
The tactic for evading the danger was credited to the ingenuity of Sir
Simon Harcourt, the attorney-general. The two acts of ecclesiastical
security and the articles of the treaty were all recited in the preamble of
the bill under the command of the mighty "Whereas," the enacting part
of the act was dropped into a single sentence, shorter than statutory
sentences usually are. The opposition might throw out the measure, and
the ministry with it, if they had strength to do so; but there had been
sufficient discussion on the clauses, and there should be no more. In the
descriptive words of Burnet: "This put those in great difficulties who had
resolved to object to several articles, and to insist on demanding several
alterations in them, for they could not come at any debate about them; they
could not object to the recital, it being mere matter of fact; and they had
not strength enough to oppose the general enacting clause; nor was it easy
to come at particulars and offer provisos relating to them. The matter
was carried on with such zeal that it passed through the House of Commons
before those who intended to oppose it had recovered out of the surprise
under which the form it was drawn in had put them."
There was thus but one question, that the bill do pass, and the opposition
had not reaped encouragement to resist so great an issue. The Lords had, in
their usual manner of dignified repose, managed to discuss the clauses, but
it was rather a conversation, to see that all was in right order, and that
no accident had happened to a measure of so vital moment, than a debate.
On March 6, 1707, the Queen came to the House of Lords, and in a graceful
speech gave the royal assent to the act.
%DOWNFALL OF CHARLES XII AT POLTAVA%
TRIUMPH OF RUSSIA
A.D. 1709
K. WALISZEWSKI[1]
[Footnote 1: Translated from the Russian by Lady Mary Loyd.]
The battle of Poltava was selected by Sir Edward Creasy as one of the
fifteen great decisive contests which have altered the fate of nations. His
able narrative of the battle has been superseded in scholars' eyes by the
more modern work of the great Russian authority, Waliszewski; but the
importance of the event remains. It reversed the positions of Sweden and
Russia in European politics, and placed Russia among the great countries of
the modern world; Sweden among the little ones.
Before 1709 Sweden still held the rank to which Gustavus Adolphus had
raised her in the Thirty Years' War. Her prestige had been a little dimmed
by the victories of the "Great Elector" of Prussia; but her ally Louis XIV
had saved her from any considerable diminution of the extensive territories
which she held on the mainland to the south and east of the Baltic Sea.
About 1700 the young and gallant warrior, Charles XII, the "Madman of the
North," reasserted her prowess, made her once more the dictator of Northern
Europe, one of the five great powers of the world.
Meanwhile Peter the Great was progressing but slowly with his
transformation of Russia. His people had little confidence in him; his
armies were half-barbaric hordes. When he ventured into war against Sweden
Europe conceived but one possible result: these undisciplined barbarians
would be annihilated. At first the expected occurred. Again and again large
Russian armies were defeated by small bodies of Swedes; but with splendid
tenacity Peter persisted in the face of revolt at home and defeat abroad.
"The Swedes shall teach us to beat them" was his famous saying, and at
Poltava he achieved his aim. From that time forward Russia's antagonism to
her leader disappeared. His people followed him eagerly along the path to
power.
It would appear that it was not till Peter's visit to Vienna, in 1698, that
he conceived the idea of attacking Sweden. Up till that time his warlike
impulse had rather been directed southward, and the Turk had been the sole
object of his enmity. But at Vienna he perceived that the Emperor, whose
help he had counted on, had failed him, and forthwith the mobile mind of
the young Czar turned to the right-about. A war he must have of some kind,
it little mattered where, to give work to his young army. The warlike
instincts and the greed of his predecessors, tempted sometimes by the Black
Sea, sometimes by the Baltic and the border provinces of Poland, had,
indeed, always swung and turned back and forward between the south and the
north. These alternate impulses, natural enough in a nation so full of
youth and strength, have, since those days, been most unnecessarily
idealized, erected into a doctrine, and dignified as a work of unification.
It must be acknowledged that every nation has at one time or the other
thus claimed the right to resume the national patrimony at the expense
of neighboring peoples, and Peter, by some lucky fate, remained in this
respect within certain bounds of justice, of logic, and of truth. Absorbed
and almost exhausted, as he soon became, by the desperate effort demanded
by his war in the North, he forgot or imperilled much that the conquering
ambition of his predecessors had left him in the South and West. He clung
to the territory already acquired on the Polish side, retired from the
Turkish border, and claimed what he had most right, relatively speaking, to
claim in the matter of resumption, on his northwestern frontier.
On that frontier the coast country between the mouth of the Narva, or
Narova, and that of the Siestra, watered by the Voksa, the Neva, the
Igora, and the Louga, was really an integral part of the original Russian
patrimony. It was one of the five districts (_piatiny_) of the Novgorod
territory, and was still full of towns bearing Slavonic names, such as
Korela, Ojeshek, Ladoga, Koporie, Iamy, and Ivangrod. It was not till 1616
that the Czar Michael Feodorovitch, during his struggle with Gustavus
Adolphus, finally abandoned the seacoast for the sake of keeping his hold
on Novgorod. But so strong was the hope of recovering the lost territory,
in the hearts of his descendants, that, after the failure of an attempt on
Livonia, in Alexis' reign, a boyar named Ordin-Nashtchokin set to work to
build a number of warships at Kokenhausen, on the Dvina, which vessels were
intended for the conquest of Riga. Peter had an impression, confused it may
be, but yet powerful, of these historic traditions. This is proved by the
direction in which he caused his armies to march after he had thrown down
the gauntlet to Sweden. He strayed off the path, swayed, as he often was,
by sudden impulses, but he always came back to the traditional aim of his
forefathers--access to the sea, a Baltic port, "a window open upon Europe."
His interview with Augustus II at Rawa definitely settled his wavering
mind. The _pacta conventa_, signed by the King of Poland when he ascended
his throne, bound him to claim from the King of Sweden the territories
which had formerly belonged to the republic of Poland. For this end the
help of Denmark could be reckoned on. The Treaty of Roeskilde (1658), which
had been forced on Frederick III, weighed heavily on his successors, and
the eager glances fixed by the neighboring states on Holstein, after the
death of Christian Albert, in 1694, threatened to end in quarrel. There
were fair hopes, too, of the help of Brandenburg. When Sweden made alliance
with Louis XIV and Madame de Maintenon, that country abandoned its historic
position in Germany to Prussia. But Sweden still kept some footing, and was
looked on as a rival.
Further, Augustus had a personal charm for Peter sufficient in itself to
prove how much simplicity, inexperience, and boyish thoughtlessness still
existed in that half-polished mind. The Polish Sovereign, tall, strong,
and handsome, an adept in all physical exercises, a great hunter, a hard
drinker, and an indefatigable admirer of the fair sex, in whose person
debauch of every kind took royal proportions, delighted the Czar and
somewhat overawed him. He was more than inclined to think him a genius, and
was quite ready to bind up his fortunes with his friend's. At the end of
four days of uninterrupted feasting, they had agreed on the division of the
spoils of Sweden, and had made a preliminary exchange of arms and clothing.
The Czar appeared at Moscow a few weeks later wearing the King of Poland's
waistcoat and belted with his sword.
In the beginning of 1700 Augustus and Frederick of Denmark attacked Sweden;
but Peter, though bound by treaty to follow their example, neither moved
nor stirred. Frederick was beaten, his very capital was threatened. So much
the worse for him! Augustus seized on Dunamunde, but utterly failed before
Riga. All the better for the Russians; Riga was left for them! Another
envoy came hurrying to Moscow. The Czar listened coolly to his reproaches,
and replied that he would act as soon as news from Constantinople permitted
it. Negotiations there were proceeding satisfactorily, and he hoped shortly
to fulfil his promise, and to attack the Swedes in the neighborhood of
Pskof. This was a point on which the allies had laid great stress, and
Peter had studiously avoided contradicting them. It was quite understood
between them that the Czar was not to lay a finger on Livonia. At last on
August 8, 1700, a courier arrived with the longed-for dispatch. Peace with
Turkey was signed at last, and that very day the Russian troops received
their marching orders. But they were not sent toward Pskof. They marched on
Narva, in the very heart of the Livonian country.
The army destined to lay siege to Narva consisted of three divisions of
novel formation, under the orders of three generals--Golovin, Weyde, and
Repnin--with 10,500 Cossacks, and some irregular troops--63,520 men in all.
Repnin's division, numbering 10,834 men, and the Little Russian Cossacks,
stopped on the way, so that the actual force at disposal was reduced to
about 40,000 men. But Charles XII, the new King of Sweden, could not bring
more than 5300 infantry and 3130 cavalry to the relief of the town. And,
being obliged, when he neared Wesemburg, to throw himself in flying
column across a country which was already completely devastated, and,
consequently, to carry all his supplies with him, his troops arrived in
presence of an enemy five times as numerous as themselves, worn out, and
completely exhausted by a succession of forced marches.
Peter never dreamed that he would find the King of Sweden in Livonia. He
believed his hands were more than full enough elsewhere with the King of
Denmark; he was quite unaware that the Peace of Travendal, which had been
signed on the very day of the departure of the Russian troops, had been
already forced upon his ally. He started off gayly at the head of his
bombardier company, full of expectation of an easy victory. When he
arrived before the town, on September 23d, he was astounded to find any
preparations for serious defence. A regular siege had to be undertaken, and
when, after a month of preparations, the Russian batteries at last opened
fire, they made no impression whatever. The artillery was bad, and yet more
badly served. A second month passed, during which Peter waited and hoped
for some piece of luck, either for an offer to capitulate or for the
arrival of Repnin's force. What did happen was that on the night of
November 17th news came that within twenty-four hours the King of Sweden
would be at Narva. That very night Peter fled from his camp, leaving the
command to the Prince de Croy.
None of the arguments brought forward by the sovereign and his apologists
in justification of this step appears to me to hold water. The necessity
pleaded for an interview with the Duke of Poland, the Czar's desire to
hasten on Repnin's march, are mere pitiful excuses. Langen and Hallart, the
generals sent by Augustus to observe the military operations in Livonia,
gravely reported that the Czar had been obliged to go to Moscow to receive
a Turkish envoy--who was not expected for four months! The Emperor's envoy,
Pleyer, is nearer the mark when he says the sovereign obeyed the entreaties
of his advisers, who considered the danger too great for him to be
permitted to remain. And Hallart himself, speaking of these same
counsellors, whether ministers or generals, does not hesitate to declare,
in his rough soldierly language, that "they have about as much courage as
a frog has hair on his belly." The Russian army, disconcerted by the
unexpected resistance of the Swedes, ill-prepared for resistance,
ill-commanded, ill-lodged, and ill-fed, was already demoralized to the last
extent. The arrival of Charles caused a panic, and from that panic Peter,
the most impressionable of men, was the first to suffer.
The startling rapidity with which Charles had rid himself of the weakest of
his three adversaries, under the very walls of Copenhagen, would have been
less astonishing to Peter if the young sovereign had better realized the
conditions under which he and his allies had begun a struggle in which, at
first sight, their superiority appeared so disproportionate. King Frederick
had reckoned without the powers which had guaranteed the recent Treaty of
Altona, by which the safety of Holstein was insured; without the Hanoverian
troops, and those of Luneburg, which at once brought succor to Toeningen;
without the Anglo-Dutch fleet, which forced his to seek shelter under the
walls of Copenhagen, and thus permitted the King of Sweden to cross
the Sound unmolested, and land quietly in Zealand; and finally, he
reckoned--and for this he may well be excused--without that which was
soon to fill all Europe with terror and amazement: the lucky star and the
military genius of Charles XII.
This monarch, born in 1682, who had slain bears when he was sixteen, and at
eighteen was a finished soldier, greedy for glory and battle and blood, was
the last representative of that race of men who, between the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, held all Central Europe in their iron grip; fierce
warriors who steeped Germany and Italy in fire and blood, fought their way
from town to town, and hamlet to hamlet; giving no truce and showing no
mercy; who lived for war and by war; grew old and died in harness in a very
atmosphere of carnage, with bodies riddled with wounds, with hands stained
with abominable crimes, but with spirits calm and unflinching to the last.
Standing on the threshold of the new period he was the superb and colossal
incarnation of that former one, which, happily for mankind, was to
disappear in his person.
Count Guiscard, who as envoy from the King of France accompanied him on his
first campaign, describes him thus: "The King of Sweden is of tall stature;
taller than myself by almost a head; he is very handsome, he has fine eyes
and a good complexion, his face is long, his speech a little thick. He
wears a small wig tied behind in a bag, a plain stock, without cravat, a
very tight jerkin of plain cloth, with sleeves as narrow as our waistcoat
sleeves, a narrow belt above his jerkin, with a sword of extraordinary
length and thickness, and almost perfectly flat-soled shoes--a very strange
style of dress for a prince of his age."
In order to reach Narva with his eight thousand men, Charles, after
having crossed a tract of desert country, was obliged, at a place called
Pyhaioggi, to cross a narrow valley divided by a stream, which, if it had
been fortified, must have stopped him short. The idea occurred to Gordon,
but Peter would not listen to him, and it was not till the very last moment
that he sent Sheremetief, who found the Swedes just debouching into the
valley, received several volleys of grape-shot and retired in disorder.
The mad venture had succeeded. But Charles' farther advance involved the
playing of a risky game. His men were worn out, his horses had not been fed
for two whole days. Still he went on; he reached Narva, formed his Swedes
into several attacking columns, led one himself, and favored by a sudden
hurricane which drove showers of blinding snow into his adversaries' faces,
threw himself into their camp and mastered the place in half an hour. The
only resistance he met was offered by the two regiments of the guard. All
the rest fled or surrendered. A few Russians were drowned in the Narva. "If
the river had been frozen," said Charles discontentedly, "I do not know
that we should have contrived to kill a single man."
It was a total breakdown; the army had disappeared, and the artillery. The
very sovereign was gone, and with him the country's honor. That had sunk
out of sight amid the scornful laughter with which Europe hailed this
undignified defeat. The Czar was in full flight. All Peter's plans of
conquest, his dreams of European expansion and of navigating the northern
seas, his hopes of glory, his faith in his civilizing mission, had utterly
faded. And he himself had collapsed upon their heaped-up ruins. Onward
he fled, feeling the Swedish soldiers on his heels. He wept, he sued for
peace, vowing he would treat at once and submit to any sacrifice; he sent
imploring appeals to the States-General of Holland, to England and to the
Emperor, praying for mediation.
But swiftly he recovered possession of his faculties. Then, raising his
head--through the golden haze with which his insufficient education, the
infatuation inherent to his semi-oriental origin, and his inexperience, had
filled his eyes, through the rent of that mighty catastrophe and that cruel
lesson--he saw and touched the truth at last! He realized what he must set
himself to do if he was to become that which he fain would be. There must
be no more playing at soldiers and sailors; no more of that farce of power
and glory, in which, till now, he had been the chief actor; no more aimless
adventure, undertaken in utter scorn of time and place. He must toil now
in downright earnest; he must go forward, step by step; measure each day's
effort, calculate each morrow's task, let each fruit ripen ere he essayed
to pluck it; learn patience and dogged perseverance. He did it all. He
found means within him and about him to carry out his task. The strong,
long-enduring, long-suffering race of which he came endowed him with the
necessary qualities, and gave him its own inexhaustible and never-changing
devotion and self-sacrifice.
Ten armies may be destroyed, he will bring up ten others to replace them,
no matter what the price. His people will follow him and die beside him to
the last man, to the last morsel of bread snatched from its starving
jaws. A month hence, the fugitive from Narva will belong to a vanished,
forgotten, almost improbable past; the future victor of Poltava will have
taken his place.
Of the Russian army, as it had originally taken the field, about
twenty-three thousand men remained--a certain number of troops--the cavalry
under Sheremetief's command, and Repnin's division. The Czar ordered fresh
levies. He melted the church-bells into cannon. In vain the clergy raised
the cry of sacrilege; he never faltered for a moment. He went hither and
thither giving orders and active help; rating some, encouraging others,
inspiring everyone with some of his own energy--that energy which his
misfortune had spurred and strengthened. Yet, Byzantine as he was by
nature, he could not resist the temptation to endeavor to mislead public
opinion. Matvieief was given orders to draw up his own special description
of the battle of Narva and its consequences, for the benefit of the
readers of the _Gazette de Hollande_ and of the memoranda which he himself
addressed to the States-General.
The Swedes, according to this account, had been surrounded by a superior
force within the Russian camp, and had there been forced to capitulate;
after which event, certain Russian officers, who had desired to pay their
respects to the King of Sweden, had been treacherously seized by
his orders. Europe only laughed, but in later years this pretended
capitulation, and the supposed Swedish violation of it, were to serve
Peter as a pretext for violating others, to which he himself had willingly
consented. At Vienna, too, Count Kaunitz listened with a smile while Prince
Galitzin explained that the Czar "needed no victories to prove his military
glory." Yet, when the vice-chancellor inquired what conditions the Czar
hoped to obtain from his victorious adversary, the Russian diplomat calmly
claimed the greater part of Livonia, with Narva, Ivangrod, Kolyvan,
Koporie, and Derpt--and future events were to prove that he had not asked
too much.
Before long this boldness began to reap its own reward. To begin with,
Charles XII made no immediate attempt to pursue his advantage on Russian
soil; Peter had the joy of seeing him plunge into the depths of the Polish
plains. The King of Sweden's decision, which, we are told, did not tally
with his generals' opinion, has been severely criticised. Guiscard thought
it perfectly justifiable, so long as the King had not rid himself of
Augustus, by means of the peace which this Prince appeared more than
willing to negotiate, through the mediation of Guiscard himself.
But Charles turned a deaf ear to the French diplomat's prayers and
remonstrances. He feared, declared Guiscard, "he might run short of
enemies," and as he could not advance on Russia and leave the Saxons and
Poles in his rear, he desired--and here doubtless he was right--first of
all to insure his line of communication, and of possible retreat. Thus, by
his own deed, he strengthened and cemented an alliance which had already
been shaken by common defeat.
Augustus, repulsed by the Swedish King, threw himself into Peter's arms,
and in February, 1701, the common destinies of the Czar and the King of
Poland were once more bound together. A fresh treaty was signed at the
Castle of Birze, close to Dunaburg.
The year 1701 was a hard one for Peter. The junction between the army,
which he had contrived after some fashion to put on a war footing, and
the Saxon troops of Augustus, only resulted in the complete defeat of the
allied forces under the walls of Riga, on July 3d. In the month of June
the Moscow Kremlin caught fire; the state offices (_prikaz_) with their
archives, the provision-stores, and palaces, were all devoured by the
flames. The bells fell from the tower of Ivan the Great, and the heaviest,
which weighed over a hundred tons, was broken in the fall. But in midwinter
Sheremetief contrived to surprise Schlippenbach with a superior force, and
defeated him at Erestfer, December 29th.
Peter's delight, and his wild manifestations of triumph, may easily be
imagined. He did not content himself with exhibiting the few Swedish
prisoners who had fallen into his hands at Moscow, in a sort of imitation
Roman triumph; his practical mind incited him to make use of them in
another way, and Cornelius von Bruyn, who had lived long enough in the
country to be thoroughly acquainted with its customs, calmly reports that
the price of war captives, which had originally been three or four florins
a head, rose as high as twenty and thirty florins. Even foreigners now
ventured to purchase them, and entered into competition in the open market.