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.

But what thus brought glory to Schullemburg was of little use to King

Augustus. He once more abandoned Poland to his enemies, withdrew into

Saxony and hastily prepared the fortifications of Dresden, for he

already feared, not without reason, the loss of the capital of his

hereditary dominions.

Charles XII found Poland submissive; his generals, following his

example, had engaged in Courland with several small bodies of Russians,

who, since the great battle of Narva, had only shown themselves in

small companies, and who in this part only made war like the Tartar

vagabonds, who plunder and flee and reappear only to flee again.

Wherever the Swedes were they thought they were certain to win, though

they numbered only twenty against a hundred.

Under these fortunate circumstances Stanislas prepared for his

coronation; fortune, which had had him elected king at Warsaw and then

had driven him thence, recalled him thither to the acclamation of a

crowd of nobles which the fortune of war attached to him; a Diet was

convoked there; all other obstacles were removed, only the Court of

Rome was disposed to thwart it.

It was naturally expected that this Court would declare in favour of

King Augustus, who from a Protestant had become a Catholic to gain

the crown in opposition to Stanislas, who was placed upon the throne

by the great enemy of the Catholic faith. The then Pope, Clement XI,

sent dispatches to all the prelates of Poland, and especially to

the Cardinal-Primate, threatening them with excommunication if they

presumed to assist at the consecration of Stanislas or take part in any

plot against King Augustus.

If these dispatches were delivered to the bishops who were at Warsaw,

it was to be feared that, while some would obey them through weakness,

the majority would seize the opportunity to become more exacting in

proportion as they were necessary. All possible precautions were

therefore taken to prevent the letters of the Pope from being received

at Warsaw. A Franciscan got possession of them secretly, undertaking

to deliver them into the bishops’ own hands: he first gave one to the

suffragan of Chelm. This prelate, who was a great partisan of King

Stanislas, gave it to his Majesty unopened. The King sent for the monk,

and asked how he dare take charge of such a document. The Franciscan

answered that he did it by order of his general. Stanislas told him to

in future take his orders from his King rather than from his Superior,

and banished him immediately from the town.

The same day a placard was published by the King of Sweden, by which

all ecclesiastics, secular and regular, were forbidden to take part in

politics under the severest penalties.

For greater security he had guards posted at the doors of all the

prelates’ houses, and forbad the entry of any stranger into the town.

He exercised these small severities so that Stanislas should not fall

out with the clergy on his accession; he said that he refreshed himself

from the fatigue of campaigns by checking the intrigues of the Roman

Curia, and that he must fight it on paper, just as he attacked other

sovereigns with actual weapons.

The Cardinal was asked by Charles and Stanislas to perform the ceremony

of coronation. But it did not seem to him seemly that he should quit

Dantzig to consecrate a king who had been elected against his wish;

but, as it was always his policy to act a part in all that he did, he

wanted to get a legitimate excuse for his refusal: he therefore caused

the Pope’s dispatch to be fixed, in the night, to the gate of his own

house. The magistrate of Dantzig in great indignation had search made

for the culprits, which were not found; the Primate feigned irritation

and was really very pleased: he had an excuse for not consecrating the

new King, and at the same time remained on good terms with Charles,

Augustus, Stanislas and the Pope.

He died a few days after, leaving his country in turmoil. The only

result of all his intrigues was that he had offended simultaneously

three Kings, Charles, Augustus, Stanislas, the Polish State and the

Pope, who had commanded him to come to Rome to account for his conduct.

But, as even politicians sometimes experience remorse in their last

moments, he wrote to King Augustus on his death-bed asking his pardon.

The coronation was solemnized quietly and magnificently in Warsaw in

spite of the Polish custom of crowning kings in Cracow. Stanislas

Leczinski and his wife Charlotte were consecrated King and Queen of

Poland at the hands of the Archbishop of Leopold assisted by several

other bishops. The only reward Charles reaped from his conquest was to

be present at the ceremony incognito.

While he was thus providing Poland with a king, and the King of Denmark

dare not harrass him, while the King of Prussia was courting his

friendship and Augustus was withdrawing to his hereditary dominions,

the Czar became daily more formidable. His assistance of Augustus in

Poland had been feeble, but he had made powerful diversions in Ingria.

As for him, he not only began to be a great soldier himself, but also

to teach his soldiers the art of war: discipline was established among

his forces; he had good engineers, experienced artillery and many good

officers; he had also learned the great art of supporting his armies.

Some of his generals had learned both to fight well and, if necessary,

to abstain from fighting; more than all, he had built up a fleet

capable of making head against the Swedes in the Baltic.

Confident in all these advantages, due both to his genius and to the

absence of the King of Sweden, he took Narva by assault after a regular

siege and a blockade by land and sea. When the soldiers had taken the

town they plundered it, and gave themselves to horrible barbarities:

the Czar hastened from one place to another to stop the disorder and

massacre. He rescued by force from the hands of the soldiers women

whose throats they were going to cut after having outraged them; he

was obliged to kill with his own hands some Russians who would not

listen to his commands. In the town hall at Narva they still show the

table where he laid his sword, as he said to the citizens who flocked

after him, “This sword is not wet with the blood of the citizens I have

slain, but with that of the Russians whom I have killed to save your

lives.”

Had the Czar always shown such humanity he would have been the greatest

of heroes. His ambition went beyond the destruction of towns. In the

midst of his new conquests he was laying the foundations of a city not

far from Narva. This was the city of Petersburg, which was henceforth

his seat and the centre of his trade. It is between Finland and Ingria,

in a marshy island, around which the Neva flows in several branches

before it falls into the Gulf of Finland. He himself made the plan

of the town, of the fortress, the port, the quays, which adorn it,

and the fortifications defending its entry. This desert, uncultivated

island, which is nothing but a mud heap during the short summer of that

climate, and a pool of ice in winter, unapproachable by land except

across wild forests and deep morasses, and till then the habitation

of bears and wolves, was, in 1703, filled with more than 300,000 men

whom the Czar had called together from the farthest limits of his

dominions. The peasants of the kingdom of Astrakan and those who live

on the frontiers of China were transported to Petersburg. Before he

could lay the foundations of a town he was obliged to pierce forests,

make roads, drain marshes and raise banks. Nature was subjugated in

every direction. But the Czar was bent on peopling a country which did

not seem meant for man’s habitation; he was not to be diverted from

his resolve either by the floods, which ruined his works, or by the

barrenness of the soil, or by the ignorance of the workmen, or by the

mortality which swept away 200,000 men at the very beginning. The town

was founded in spite of the obstacles which existed in nature herself,

in the genius of the people, and an unfortunate war. Already in 1705

Petersburg was a considerable town, and its port was full of vessels.

The Emperor attracted strangers in large numbers by the rewards which

he gave them, giving some lands, others houses, and encouraging all the

arts which might civilize life in that cruel climate. Above all, he

made it inaccessible to the enemy. The Swedish generals, who frequently

beat his troops in every other district, were not able to do the least

harm to this increasing colony. It was at peace in the midst of the war

which surrounded it.

The Czar, by thus creating new dominions for himself, still held out

a helping hand to King Augustus, who was losing his. He persuaded him

by the instrumentality of General Patkul, who had lately joined the

Russian side, and was then the Czar’s ambassador in Saxony, to come to

Grodno to confer with him once more on the unhappy state of affairs.

King Augustus came thither with some troops, attended by General

Schullemburg, whose passage across the Oder had got him a reputation

in the north, and in whom he placed his great hope. The Czar arrived

followed by 100,000 men. The two monarchs formed new plans of war. As

King Augustus was dethroned he was no longer afraid of exasperating

the Poles by delivering their country to the Russian troops. It was

decided that the Czar’s army should be divided into several bodies to

oppose every action of the King of Sweden. During this interview King

Augustus instituted the order of the White Eagle, a feeble resource to

bring over to his side certain Polish lords who wanted real advantages

rather than an empty honour, which becomes ridiculous when derived from

a prince who is king only in name. The conference of the two Kings

ended in a strange manner. The Czar departed suddenly, leaving his

troops to his ally, in order to extinguish a rebellion with which he

was threatened in Astrakan. He had scarcely started when King Augustus

ordered the arrest of Patkul at Dresden.

All Europe was amazed that, in opposition to the law of nations,

and apparently to his own interest, he should venture to imprison

the ambassador of the only prince who afforded him protection. The

secret history of the affair was this: Patkul, proscribed in Sweden

for having maintained the privileges of his country, Livonia, had

become general to Augustus: but his high spirit not according with the

proud disposition of General Fleming, the King’s favourite, and more

imperious than himself, he had passed into the Czar’s service, and was

then his general and ambassador to Augustus. He was a man of great

discernment, and had found out that the proposal of Fleming and the

Chancellor of Saxony was to offer Charles peace on his own terms. He at

once formed a plan to prevent this and to bring about some arrangement

between the Czar and Sweden. The Chancellor got wind of his project,

and obtained leave to seize him. King Augustus told the Czar that

Patkul was a wretch and would betray them both. His only fault was that

he served his master too well: but an ill-timed piece of service is

often punished as a treason.

In the meantime, the 100,000 Russians, on one side, divided into

several small bodies, burnt and ravaged the estates of Stanislas’

adherents: while Schullemburg, on the other, was advancing with fresh

troops. But the fortune of the Swedes dispersed these two armies in

less than two months. Charles XII and Stanislas attacked the separate

corps of the Russians one after another, but so swiftly that one

Russian general was beaten before he had heard of the defeat of his

colleague. No obstacle could check the conqueror’s advance. If he found

a river in the way he and his Swedes swam across it.

One party of the Swedes took the baggage of Augustus in which were

400,000 crowns of silver coin; Stanislas seized 800,000 ducats

belonging to Prince Menzikoff, the Russian general, Charles, leading

his cavalry, would often march thirty leagues in twenty-four hours,

every soldier leading another mount to use when his own should be

spent. The Russians, panic-stricken and reduced to a small band, fled

in confusion beyond the Borysthenes.

While Charles was thus driving the Russians into the heart of

Lithuania, Schullemburg at last repassed the Oder and came at the head

of 20,000 men to offer battle to the great Marshal Renschild, who was

considered Charles’s best general, and was called the Parmenio of the

North. These two famous generals, who seemed to share the fate of their

respective masters, met near Punits, at a place called Frauenstadt, a

territory which had already proved fatal to the troops of Augustus.

Renschild had only thirteen battalions and twenty-two squadrons, which

made a total of about 10,000 men, and Schullemburg had twice that

number.

It must be remembered, too, that he had in his army between 6,000 and

7,000 Russians, who had been under discipline a long time, and were

as reliable as veterans. This battle of Fraustadt was fought on 12th

February, 1706: but the same General Schullemburg, who with 4,000 men

had to a certain extent harassed the King of Sweden, was completely

defeated by General Renschild. The battle did not last a quarter of an

hour, in a moment the Saxons wavered, and the Russians threw down their

arms on the first appearance of the Swedes. The panic was so sudden and

the confusion so great that the conquerors found on the field 7,000

muskets ready loaded, which they had thrown away without firing. There

never was a rout more sudden, more complete or more disgraceful: and

yet all the Saxon and Swedish officers acknowledged that no general had

ever arranged his men better; it was that day that they realized how

little human foresight can pre-arrange events.

Among the prisoners there was a whole regiment of French. These poor

wretches had been taken by the Saxon troops in 1704 at the famous

battle of Hochstet, which was so fatal to the greatness of Louis XIV.

They had since enlisted under King Augustus, who had formed them into

a regiment of dragoons, and put them under the command of a Frenchman

called Joyeuse. The colonel was killed at the first and only charge of

the Swedes, and the whole regiment became prisoners of war. From that

day these Frenchmen petitioned to be taken into the service of the King

of Sweden; they were received into that service by a singular fate,

which preserved them for a further change of their conqueror to their

master.

As to the Russians they begged for their life on their knees, but they

were inhumanly massacred in cold blood, six hours after the battle,

to punish them for the outrages of the compatriots, and to get rid of

prisoners which the conquerors did not know what to do with.

Augustus was now absolutely without resources. He had nothing left

but Cracow, where he was shut up with two regiments of Russians, two

of Saxons and some troops of the regal army, by whom he was afraid

of being handed over to the conqueror; but his misfortune was at its

height when he heard that Charles had at last entered Saxony, on the

1st September, 1706.

He had crossed Silesia without deigning to even warn the Court of

Vienna. Germany was in consternation: the Diet of Ratisbon, which

represents the Empire, and the resolutions of which are often as

ineffectual as they are solemn, declared the King of Sweden an enemy to

the Empire if he crossed the Oder with his army; this very resolution

was a further inducement to him to march into Germany.

Upon his approach the villages were deserted and the inhabitants

fled in all directions. Charles acted as he had at Copenhagen: he had

proclamations made everywhere that he only wanted to procure peace, and

that all those who returned to their houses and paid the contributions

that he would demand should be treated as his own subjects, while

the rest should be pursued with no quarter. This declaration from a

prince who had never been known to break his word brought back in large

numbers all those of the inhabitants who had been dispersed by fear. He

encamped at Altranstadt, near the plains of Lutzen, the field of battle

famous for the victory and death of Gustavus Adolphus. He went to see

the place where this great man fell, and when he reached the spot he

said, “I have endeavoured to live like him; perhaps God may one day

grant me a death as glorious.”

From this camp he commanded the estates of Saxony to meet, and to send

him without delay the register of Finance of the Electorate. As soon as

he had them in his power, and had information of exactly what Saxony

could supply, he levied a tax on it of 625,000 rixdollars a month.

Besides this contribution the Saxons were obliged to supply every

Swedish soldier with two pounds of meat, two pounds of bread, two

pots of beer and fourpence a day, together with forage for his horse.

When the contributions had been thus fixed the King arranged a new

method of protecting the Saxons from the insults of his soldiers. He

ordered that in all the towns where his soldiers were quartered every

housekeeper with whom the soldiers were lodged should give certificates

of their behaviour each month, without which the soldier could not draw

his pay; further, inspectors went round once a fortnight to inquire

if the Swedes had done any damage, and housekeepers were carefully

indemnified and culprits punished.

The severe discipline under which Charles’s troops lived is well known;

they did not pillage towns taken by assault without permission; they

pillaged in an orderly way, and desisted at the first signal. The

Swedes boast to this day of the discipline they kept in Saxony: yet the

Saxons complain that the most terrible outrages were committed among

them. These contradictory statements would be irreconcilable if we did

not remember that men look at the same thing from different points of

view.

It would have been very strange had not the conquerors sometimes abused

their privileges, and had not the conquered regarded the smallest

damage as the most terrible injury. One day as the King was riding

near Leipzig a Saxon peasant threw himself at his feet to ask justice

against a grenadier, who had just gone off with what he had intended

for his family dinner. The King had the soldier called. “Is it true,”

he asked sternly, “that you have robbed this man?” “Sire,” answered the

soldier, “I have not done him so much harm as your Majesty has done his

master, for you have stolen a kingdom from him, while I have only taken

a turkey from this rustic.” The King gave the peasant ten ducats, and

pardoned the soldier for the boldness of the repartee, but he added,

“Remember, friend, that I have taken a kingdom from King Augustus, but

I have taken nothing for myself.”

The great Leipzig fair was held as usual, tradesmen attended it in

perfect security; not one Swedish soldier was to be seen in the fair;

it might have been said that the only object of the Swedish army in

Saxony was to keep the peace: the King ruled throughout the Electorate

with as absolute a power and as deep a tranquillity as in Stockholm.

King Augustus, a wanderer in Poland, and deprived both of his kingdom

and his electorate, at last wrote a letter with his own hand to Charles

XII to ask for a peace.

He commissioned Baron Imhof, accompanied by M. Finsten of the Privy

Council, secretly to deliver this letter; he gave them full powers

and _carte blanche_, directing them to try to obtain for him

reasonable and Christian conditions. He was obliged to conceal his

overtures for peace and to refrain from having recourse to the

mediation of any prince, for being then in Poland, at the mercy of

the Russians, he had reason to fear that the dangerous ally whom

he had abandoned would take vengeance on him for his submission to

the conqueror. His two plenipotentiaries came by night to Charles’s

camp and had a private audience. The King read the letter, and said,

“Gentlemen, you shall have your answer in a moment.” Then he went into

his office and wrote as follows--

“I consent to grant peace on the following conditions, in which it must

not be expected that I will make the least alteration:--

“1. That King Augustus renounce for ever the crown of Poland, that he

acknowledge Stanislas as lawful king; and that he promise never to

recover the throne, even after the death of Stanislas.

“2. That he renounce all other treaties, and especially those he has

made with Russia.

“3. That he send back with honour into my camp the Princess Sobieski,

and any other prisoners he may have taken.

“4. That he deliver into my hands all the deserters who have taken

service with him, particularly Jean Patkul; and that proceedings be

stopped against all such as have passed from his service to mine.”

He gave this paper to Count Piper, bidding him negotiate the rest

with King Augustus’s plenipotentiaries. They were overwhelmed by the

severity of the terms, and tried with the small skill which is possible

to the powerless, to lessen the rigour of the King of Sweden. They had

several conferences with Count Piper, the only answer he would give to

all their suggestions was, “Such is the will of the King my master, and

he never changes his mind.”

While this peace was being negotiated secretly in Saxony, chance seemed

to give King Augustus the opportunity of gaining more honourable terms,

and of treating with his conqueror on a more equal footing.

Prince Menzikoff, commander-in-chief of the Russian army, went to

join him in Poland with 30.000 men, at a time when he not only did

not expect their assistance but even feared it. He was accompanied by

Polish and Saxon troops, 6,000 in all. Surrounded by Prince Menzikoffs

army, and with only this small body-guard, he was in terror lest they

should discover his negotiation; he pictured himself simultaneously

dethroned by his enemy, and in danger of being taken prisoner by his

ally. In this critical state of affairs the army found itself in the

near neighbourhood of one of the Swedish generals, called Meyerfield,

who was at the head of 6,000 troops at Calish, near the Palatinate of

Posnania. Prince Menzikoff pressed the King to give battle. The King,

in this most difficult position, delayed under various pretexts, for

though the enemy had only one third of his numbers, there were 4,000

Swedes in the army of Meyerfield, and that was enough to make the

result doubtful. On the other hand, to fall upon the Swedes during the

negotiations and to lose the day, would mean irretrievable ruin. He

therefore resolved to send a reliable messenger to the enemy’s general

to let him know the secret of the peace and to warn him to retreat. But

this advice had a very different effect from what had been expected.

General Meyerfield believed that it was a snare to intimidate him, and

on that supposition alone he dared to risk a battle.

That day the Russians for the first time conquered the Swedes in a

pitched battle. This victory, which King Augustus had gained in spite

of himself, was complete; in the midst of his ill-fortune he entered

in triumph into Warsaw, formerly his capital, but now a dismantled

and ruined town, ready to receive any conqueror whatever, and to

acknowledge the strongest as king. He was tempted to seize this moment

of prosperity, and to attack the King of Sweden in Saxony with the

Russian army. But when he remembered that Charles was at the head of a

Swedish army, which had till then been invincible; that the Russians

would forsake him directly they had information that the treaty had

been begun; that Saxony, his hereditary dominions, already drained

of men and money, would be ravaged by the Russians as well as by the

Swedes; that the Empire, occupied with the French war, could not help

him; and that he would be left without dominions, friends, or money,

he considered it better to accept the King of Sweden’s terms.

These terms were made even more severe when Charles heard that King

Augustus had attacked his troops during the negotiations. His rage

and the pleasure of still further humbling an enemy who had just

conquered his troops, made him more inflexible about all the articles

of the treaty. Thus the victory of King Augustus was wholly to his own

disadvantage, a circumstance in which his experience was unique.

He had just had the Te Deum sung in Warsaw, when Finsten, one of his

plenipotentiaries, arrived from Saxony, with the treaty of peace which

deprived him of his crown. Augustus signed it after some hesitation,

and then started for Saxony, in the vain hope that his presence might

soften the King of Sweden, and that his enemy might recall the former

bonds between their houses, and their common blood.

The two Princes first met at Gutersdorf, in Count Piper’s quarters. The

meeting was unceremonious; Charles was in jack-boots, with a piece of

black taffeta tied carelessly round his neck instead of a cravat; his

coat was as usual made of coarse blue cloth with brass buttons. He was

wearing the long sword which he had used in the battle of Narva, and

often leaned upon it.

The conversation turned entirely upon those great boots. Charles

told Augustus that he had not had them off for six years, except at

bed-time. These details were the only subject discussed by two kings,

whereof one had taken the crown from the other.

Augustus adopted during the whole interview that air of delight and

satisfaction which princes and great men accustomed to business know

how to assume in the midst of the cruelest mortifications. The two

kings dined together several times afterwards. Charles always pretended

to give the place of honour to Augustus, but far from relaxing his

terms, he made them even more severe. It was bad enough for a sovereign

to be forced to hand over a general and a public minister, it was a

great humiliation to be forced to send to his successor, Stanislas,

the crown jewels and archives, but it was the finishing touch to this

humiliation to be forced to congratulate on his accession him who

had taken his place on the throne. Charles insisted on a letter from

Augustus to Stanislas: the King showed no haste to comply with this

demand; but Charles had made up his mind, and it had to be written.

Here is a faithful copy of the original, which King Stanislas still

keeps, and which I have lately seen.

“SIR AND BROTHER,

“We do not consider it was necessary to enter upon a detailed

correspondence with your Majesty; but to please the King of Sweden,

and that it may not be said that we have been unwilling to satisfy

him, we hereby congratulate you on your accession, and hope that your

subjects will prove more faithful to you than ours have been to us.

Every one will do us the justice to believe that we have only been

paid with ingratitude for all our benefits, and that the majority of

our subjects have only aimed at our ruin. We hope that you will not be

exposed to like misfortunes, and commit you to God’s keeping.

“Your brother and neighbour,

“AUGUSTUS, King.

“_Dresden: April_ 8, 1707.”

Augustus was further obliged to command all the magistrates to no

longer style him King of Poland, and to efface the title he renounced

from the liturgy. He was less concerned about liberating the Sobieskis;

on coming out of prison these princes refused to see him. But the

sacrifice of Patkul was a great hardship to him; on the one hand, the

Czar was clamouring for him to be sent back as his ambassador; on the

other, the King of Sweden threatened terrible penalties if he were not

handed over. Patkul was then imprisoned in the castle of Konigstein in

Saxony. Augustus thought he could satisfy Charles and his own honour at

the same time. He sent his guards to deliver up the wretched prisoner

to the Swedish troops; but sent, in advance, a secret message to the

Governor of Konigstein to let him escape. Patkul’s bad luck frustrated

the care they took to save him. The governor, knowing him to be very

rich, wished him to buy his liberty. The prisoner, still relying on

the law of nations, and informed of the intentions of King Augustus,

refused to pay for what he thought he could obtain for nothing. During

the interval, the guards appointed to deliver him to the Swedes

arrived, and handed him over at once to the four Swedish officers, who

took him straight to head-quarters at Altranstadt, where he stayed

three months, tied to a stake by a heavy iron chain. Then he was taken

to Casimir.

Charles XII, forgetting that he was the Czar’s ambassador, and

only remembering that he had been his own subject, commanded the

court-martial to pass sentence upon him with the greatest rigour. He

was condemned to be broken on the wheel and quartered. A chaplain

came to tell him he must die, without informing him of the form of

his execution. Then the man who had braved death in so many battles,

finding himself alone with a priest, and his courage no longer

supported by the incitements of glory or passion, wept bitterly.

He was engaged to a Saxon lady, named Madame D’Einstedel, who had

birth, merit, and beauty, and whom he had hoped to marry at the time

that he was given up to execution. He asked the chaplain to visit her

and comfort her, and assure her that he died full of the tenderest

affection for her. When he was led to the place of execution, and

saw the wheels and stakes in readiness for his death, he fell into

convulsions of fear, and threw himself into the arms of the minister,

who embraced him, and covering him with his cloak wept over him. A

Swedish officer then read aloud a paper as follows--

“This is to declare that the express order of his Majesty, our merciful

lord, is, that this man, who is a traitor to his country, be broken

and quartered for the reparation of his crimes, and as an example to

others. Let every man beware of treason, and faithfully serve his King.”

At the words “most merciful lord,” Patkul cried out, “What mercy!”

and at “traitor to his country,” “Alas, I have served it too well.”

He received sixteen blows, and endured the longest and most dreadful

tortures imaginable. So perished the unfortunate Jean Patkul,

ambassador and general to the King of Russia.

Those who regarded him only as a revolted subject who had rebelled

against his King, thought that he deserved his death, but those who

regarded him as a Livonian, born in a province with privileges to

defend, and who remembered that he was driven from Livonia just for

supporting these rights, called him the martyr to the liberties of his

country. All agreed that the title of ambassador to the Czar should

have rendered his person sacred. The King of Sweden alone, trained in

despotic principles, believed that he had only done an act of justice,

while all Europe condemned his cruelty.

His quartered members were exposed on gibbets till 1713, when Augustus,

having regained his throne, ordered these testimonials of the straits

he was reduced to at Altranstadt to be collected. They were brought to

him in a box at Warsaw, in the presence of the French ambassador. The

King of Poland showed the box to him, simply remarking, “These are the

members of Patkul,” without one word of blame or regret for his memory,

so that none present dare refer to so sad and terrible a subject.

About this time Paikel, a Livonian officer of Saxon troops, taken

prisoner in the field, was condemned at Stockholm by a decree of the

Senate; but his sentence was only to lose his head. This difference of

punishment in the same cases made it only too plain that Charles, in

putting Patkul to so cruel a death, had thought rather of vengeance

than of punishment.

However that may be, Paikel, after his condemnation, proposed to the

Senate to disclose to the King in exchange for a pardon the secret of

the manufacture of gold; he made the experiment in prison, in the

presence of Colonel Hamilton and the magistrates of the town; and

whether he had really discovered some useful art, or whether he had

learned the art of cunning deception, as seems most probable, certain

it is that they carried the gold which was found at the bottom of the

crucible to the mint at Stockholm, and made such a circumstantial

report to the Senate that the Queen, Charles’s grandmother, ordered

that the execution should be suspended till the King had been informed

of this curious fact, and should send his orders from Stockholm.

The King answered that he had refused to pardon a criminal for the

entreaties of his friends, and that he would never do for the sake

of profit what he could not do for friendship. There was something

heroic in this inflexibility on the part of a prince who, it must be

remembered, thought the secret possible. When King Augustus heard of

the incident he remarked that he was not surprised that the King of

Sweden was so indifferent about the philosopher’s stone, as he had

found it in Saxony.

When the Czar heard of the strange peace that Augustus, in spite of

their treaties, had concluded at Altranstadt, and that Patkul, his

ambassador and plenipotentiary, had been handed over to the King of

Sweden, in defiance of international law, he advertised his complaints

in all the Courts of Europe. He wrote to the Emperor of Germany, to the

Queen of England, and to the States-General of the United Provinces.

He said that the unfortunate necessity to which Augustus had yielded

were merely cowardice and treachery. He called upon all these Powers

to mediate that his ambassador might be sent back, and to resist the

affront which, through him, was offered to all crowned heads; he

appealed to their honour not to stoop so low as to guarantee the Peace

of Altranstadt, which Charles was urging upon them by threats. The only

effect of these letters was to make the power of the King of Sweden

more obvious. The Emperor, England and Holland, were then carrying

on a destructive war against France; they thought it inexpedient to

exasperate Charles by refusing him the vain form of guaranteeing a

treaty. As for the wretched Patkul, not one Power mediated for him,

which proves both the danger of a subject’s reliance on a prince, and

also the great prestige of Charles.

A proposal was made in the Czar’s Council to retaliate on the Swedish

officers who were prisoners at Moscow. The Czar would not consent to

a barbarity which would have had such fatal results; there were more

Russians prisoners in Sweden than Swedes in Russia.

He sought for a more useful vengeance. The great army of his enemy lay

idle in Saxony. Levenhaupt, general to the King of Sweden, who was left

in Poland at the head of about 20,000 men, could not guard the passes

in a country which was both unfortified and full of factions. Stanislas

was at the camp of Charles. The Russian Emperor seized the chance, and

entered Poland with more than 60,000 men; he split them into several

corps, and marched with a flying camp as far as Leopold, which was not

garrisoned by the Swedes. All Polish towns are at the mercy of whoever

may present himself at their gates at the head of an army. He had an

assembly called together at Leopold, like the one which had dethroned

Augustus at Warsaw.

Poland then had two primates, as well as two kings, the one nominated

by Augustus, the other by Stanislas. The primate nominated by Augustus

summoned the assembly at Leopold, and got together there all those men

whom the Prince had abandoned by the Peace of Altranstadt, and also

those who had been bribed to the Czar’s side. It was proposed to elect

a new king. So that Poland was very near having three kings at one

time, and no one could say which was the right one.

During the conferences of Leopold, the Czar, whose interests were

closely connected with those of the Emperor of Germany, through their

mutual fear of the King of Sweden, secretly obtained from him a number

of German officers. These gradually considerably strengthened his

force, by the discipline and experience they brought with them.

He attached them to his service by great rewards; and for the greater

encouragement of his own troops he gave his portrait set in diamonds to

all the generals who had fought in the battle of Calish; the subaltern

officers had gold medals, and every private soldier had a silver medal.

These monuments of the victory at Calish were all struck in the new

town of Petersburg, where arts and sciences flourished in proportion

as he taught his troops of emulation and glory. The confusion,

multiplicity of factions, and frequent ravages in Poland hindered the

Diet of Leopold from coming to any conclusion. The Czar transferred it

to Lubin. But the change of place made no alteration in the disorder

and uncertainty which every one felt. The assembly contented themselves

with owning neither Augustus, who had abdicated, nor Stanislas, who had

been elected contrary to their wishes.

But they lacked both the unanimity and the resolution to name another

king. During these futile deliberations the party of the Princess

Sapieha, Oginski’s party, those who secretly supported King Augustus,

and the new subjects of Stanislas, were all at war with one another,

ravaging each other’s estates, and completing the ruin of their country.

The Swedish troops, commanded by Levenhaupt, of which one part was in

Livonia, another in Lithuania, and a third in Poland, were seeking the

Russian troops, and burning the property of Stanislas’ enemies. The

Russians ruined friends as well as enemies, and nothing was to be seen

but towns in ashes, and vagrant troops of Poles, deprived of all their

possessions, who hated their two kings Charles and the Czar, equally.

King Stanislas set out from Altranstadt on the 15th of July, 1707,

with General Renschild, sixteen Swedish regiments and much money.

His object was to appease the troubles in Poland, and to make his

authority owned by peaceable means. He was acknowledged wherever he

went; the discipline of his troops, which threw into stronger contrast

the cruelty of the Russians, gained all hearts; his extreme affability

brought round to him, in proportion as it was realized, almost all

factions, and his money gained him the majority of the royal forces.

The Czar, fearing that he would lack supplies in a country ravaged by

his own troops, withdrew into Lithuania, where he had told the various

parts of the army to meet, and established magazines. This retreat left

King Stanislas in peaceable possession of all Poland.

The only one who then troubled him in his dominions was Count

Siniawski, Grand General by nomination of Augustus. He was extremely

able and very ambitious, and, heading a third party, he recognized

neither Augustus nor Stanislas. He had used all his influence to get

himself elected, but was now content to lead a party, as he could not

be king.

The crown troops, who continued under his command, had hardly any

other pay but licence to ravage their own country with impunity. All

who suffered from their ravages or were afraid of them, immediately

submitted to Stanislas, whose power was daily increased.

The King of Sweden was then receiving in his camp at Altranstadt

ambassadors from almost all the princes of Christendom. Some begged him

to retire from the Imperial dominions, others to turn his arms against

the Emperor. It was reported on all sides that he meant to join France

in crushing the House of Austria.

Amongst these ambassadors was the famous John, Duke of Marlborough,

who was sent by Anne, Queen of Great Britain. This man, who took every

town that he besieged, and gained every battle that he fought, was a

prominent courtier at St. James, the leader of a Parliamentary party,

and the most able foreign minister of his time. He did France as much

damage by his diplomatic talent as by his arms; and M. Fagel, Secretary

of the States-General, has been heard to say that, on more than one

occasion, the States having resolved to oppose what the Duke intended

to lay before them, the Duke, when he appeared, though he spoke very

poor French, brought them all round to his way of thinking.

Together with Prince Eugene, his fellow-victor, and the Grand Pensioner

of Holland, Heinsius, he bore the whole weight of the enterprises of

the allies against France. He knew that Charles was angry with the

Emperor and the Empire, that he was being secretly approached by the

French, and that if the conqueror joined Louis XIV the allies would be

overwhelmed.

It is true that Charles had given his word to take no part whatever

in the war between Louis XIV and the allies; but the Duke did not

believe that any prince would be so great a slave to his word as not to

sacrifice it to his greatness and interest. He therefore started for

the Hague in order to sound the King of Sweden.

As soon as he arrived at Leipzig, he went secretly, not to Count Piper,

first minister, but to Baron Gortz, who was beginning to share the

King’s confidence with Piper. When he was presented to the King with

the English minister Robinson, he spoke French, saying that he would

be happy to have the opportunity of acquiring under his direction what

he had yet to learn of the art of war. The King made no polite remark

in answer to this compliment, and seemed to forget that he was being

addressed by Marlborough. The conversation was tedious and trivial,

Charles using Swedish, and Robinson acting as interpreter. Marlborough,

who was never in a hurry to propose things, and who had learned by

long experience the art of reading men, and discovering the connection

between their inmost thoughts and their actions, gestures and speech,

studied the King carefully. When he spoke on war in general he thought

he remarked in his Majesty a natural dislike of France, and he saw,

too, that he was talking with pleasure of the conquests of the allies.

He noticed that his eyes kindled when he mentioned the Czar, in spite

of the restraint shown in the conversation; and he noticed a map of

Russia before him on the table. This quite convinced him that the real

intention of the King of Sweden, and his only ambition, was to dethrone

the Czar, just as he had dethroned the King of Poland. He understood

that his object in remaining in Saxony was to impose on the Emperor of

Germany certain severe conditions. But he knew that the Emperor would

accept them, and that thus matters would be satisfactorily settled.

He left Charles to follow his own bent, and, satisfied with having

fathomed his intentions, he did not make any proposal to him.

As few negotiations are concluded without money, and as ministers have

been known to sell the hatred or friendship of their masters, all

Europe believed that the Duke of Marlborough had succeeded with the

King of Sweden by means of the gift of a large sum of money to Count

Piper, and the Count’s reputation has suffered for it to this very

day. For my part I have traced this report to its source, and I have

it on authority that Piper received a small present from the Emperor,

with the consent of the King his master, and nothing from the Duke of

Marlborough. It is certain that Charles was bent on dethroning the Czar

of Russia, that he took counsel of no one, and that he had no need of

advice from Count Piper to wreak his long-meditated vengeance on Peter

Alexiowitz. Lastly, the minister’s reputation is absolutely vindicated

by the fact that Charles paid honour to his memory long after, when,

hearing of his death in Russia, he had his body taken to Stockholm, and

buried with great pomp and magnificence at his own expense.

The King, who had as yet experienced no ill-fortune, nor even any

hindrance to success, thought that one year would dethrone the Czar,

and that then he could retrace his steps as the arbiter of Europe; but

his aim was first to humiliate the Emperor of Germany.