Baron Stralheim, Swedish ambassador at Vienna, had quarrelled at table

with Count Zobor, the Emperor’s chamberlain; the latter, having refused

to drink to the health of Charles, and having accused him of treating

his master too badly, Stralheim had given him the lie with a box on the

ears, and had dared, after this insult, to demand reparation at the

Imperial Court.

Fear of the displeasure of the King of Sweden had forced the Emperor

to banish the subject whom it was his duty to avenge. Charles was not

satisfied, but insisted that the Count of Zobor should be handed over

to him. The Court of Vienna had to swallow its pride and hand over the

Count to the King, who sent him back, after having kept him prisoner

some time at Stettin. Contrary to international law he further demanded

that 1,500 wretched Russians, who had escaped his arms and fled to the

Empire, should be given up to him. The Court of Vienna would have had

to consent to this strange demand, and they would have been handed over

to the enemy, had not the Russian ambassador at Vienna arranged for

their escape by different routes.

The third and last of his demands was the most exorbitant. He declared

himself protector of the Emperor’s Protestant subjects in Silesia, a

province of the House of Austria, and not of the Empire; he wanted

the Emperor to grant them the liberties and privileges which had been

gained by the Treaty of Westphalia, but nullified, or at least eluded,

by the Treaty of Ryswick. The Emperor, whose great aim was to get

rid of so dangerous a neighbour, still assented, and granted him all

that he wanted. The Lutherans obtained more than 100 churches, which

the Catholics were obliged to cede by this treaty, but many of these

concessions, secured for them by the King of Sweden’s fortune, were

taken from them as soon as he could no longer impose laws.

The Emperor, who was forced to make these concessions, and who

submitted to Charles’s wishes in everything, was Joseph, the eldest

son of Leopold, and brother of Charles VI, who succeeded him. The

Pope’s nuncio, who then resided in the court of Joseph, reproached him

severely for ceding, as a Catholic, the interests of his own religion

to the heretics. “It is very lucky for you,” answered the Emperor,

smiling, “that the King of Sweden did not propose that I should turn

Protestant, for had he done so I do not know what I might have done.”

Count Wratislau, his ambassador to Charles XII, brought the treaty

in favour of the Silesians, and signed by his master, to Leipzig.

Charles then said he was satisfied, and the firm friend of the Emperor.

But he was disgusted that Rome had opposed him to the utmost of her

ability. He felt the greatest contempt for the weakness of the Court,

which being at present the irreconcilable enemy of half Europe, always

distrusts the other half, and only maintains its credit by its skilful

diplomacy. He seemed determined on vengeance. He told Count Wratislau

that the Swedes had once subjugated Rome, and that they had not

degenerated as she had done.

He let the Pope know that he would one day demand the effects which

Queen Christina had left at Rome. It is impossible to say how far this

young conqueror would have carried his resentment and his arms, had

fortune seconded his designs. Nothing then seemed an impossibility to

him; he even sent several officers secretly to Asia, and as far as

Egypt, to take plans of the towns and inform him of the strength of

those countries. Certainly, if any one were capable of overturning the

empire of the Persians and Turks, and then going on into Italy, it was

Charles XII. He was as young as Alexander, as great a soldier, and as

daring; but he was more indefatigable, stronger, and more temperate;

then the Swedes, too, were perhaps better men than the Macedonians. But

such plans, which are called divine when they succeed, are regarded as

chimeras when they fail.

At last, all difficulties having been overcome, and all his plans

carried out, after having humiliated the Emperor, dictated to the

Empire, protected the Lutherans in the midst of Roman Catholics,

dethroned one king and crowned another, and made himself the terror

of all princes, he prepared to start. The luxuries of Saxony, where

he remained idle a whole year, had made no alteration in his mode of

life. He rode out thrice a day, got up at four o’clock in the morning,

dressed unaided, never drank wine, only spent a quarter of an hour at

table, exercised his men every day, and indulged in no other pleasure

than that of making Europe tremble.

The Swedes did not yet know what was to be their destination, but it

was rumoured in the army that Charles might go to Moscow. Some days

before he started he commanded the Grand Marshal of the Household to

write out for him the route from Leipzig, then he paused, and, that

the Grand Marshal should have no idea of his project, he added, with a

smile, “and to all the capitals of Europe.” The marshal brought him a

list of them all, at the head of which he had purposely placed “Route

from Leipzig to Stockholm.” The majority of the Swedes longed to return

thither, but it was far from the King’s intention to take them back

home. “Monsieur le Maréchal,” he said, “I see whither you would lead

me; but we shall not return to Stockholm so soon.”

The army was already on the march, and passed near Dresden. Charles was

at their head, riding, as was his habit, two or three hundred paces in

advance of his guards. Suddenly they lost sight of him; some officers

advanced at full gallop to see what had become of him, but they could

not find him. In a minute the whole army took the alarm. They halted;

the generals assembled; they were in a state of great consternation

when they learned from a Saxon peasant what had become of him.

As he was passing so near Dresden, he had taken it into his head to pay

a visit to King Augustus; he rode into the town, followed by three or

four generals. Count Fleming, seeing them pass, had only time to run

and let his master know. He suggested to Augustus a suitable reception

on this occasion, but Charles came into the room in his boots, before

Augustus had time to recover from his surprise. He was then ill, and in

a nightshirt, but he hastily dressed. Charles breakfasted with him as a

traveller taking leave of a friend, then he expressed a wish to see the

fortifications. During the short time that they were going round them,

a Livonian, exiled from Sweden, who was serving in the Saxon army,

thought that he could not have a better chance of pardon. He felt sure

that his Majesty would not refuse so small a favour to a prince from

whom he had taken a crown, and in whose power he had placed himself.

Augustus readily undertook the office--he was a short distance from

Charles, talking to General Hord. “I believe,” he said, smiling, “that

your master would not refuse me.” “You don’t know him,” answered the

General; “he would rather refuse you here than anywhere else.” This did

not prevent Augustus from asking a pardon for the Livonian in the most

pressing way. Charles refused, in such a way that it was impossible

to ask again. After having spent some hours on this strange visit, he

embraced Augustus and departed.

On rejoining his army, he found all his generals panic-stricken. He

inquired the reason; they told him that they had determined to besiege

Dresden, in case he had been detained prisoner there. “Pshaw!” said

the King; “they dare not.” The next day they got news that Augustus

was holding a Council extraordinary at Dresden. “You see,” remarked

Renschild, “they are deliberating as to what they ought to have done

yesterday.” Some days later, Renschild, in an interview with the King,

spoke with astonishment of the journey to Dresden. “I had confidence in

my good fortune,” said Charles; “but at one moment it looked critical.

Fleming was not at all anxious that I should leave Dresden so soon.”

BOOK IV

BOOK IV

Charles leaves Saxony--Pursues the Czar--Advances into Ukrania--His

losses and wounds, and the battle of Pultowa--The consequences of

the battle--Charles forced to escape into Turkey--His reception in

Bessarabia.

AT last Charles left Saxony in September 1707, with an army of 43,000

men, formerly steel-clad, but now shining resplendent in gold and

silver, and enriched with the spoils of Poland and Saxony. Every

soldier had with him fifty crowns ready money; not only, too, were all

the regiments complete, but there were several supernumeraries to each

company. Besides this army Count Levenhaupt, one of his best generals,

was waiting for him in Poland with 20,000 men; he had, too, another

army of 15,000 in Finland, and recruits were on their way from Sweden.

With all these forces it was not doubted that he would dethrone the

Czar.

The Emperor was then in Russia, trying to keep up the spirits of a

party which King Augustus seemed to have deserted. His troops, divided

into several corps, fled in all directions on the first report of the

approach of the King of Sweden. He had advised his generals never to

wait for the arrival of the conqueror with a superior force, and he

was well obeyed.

The King of Sweden, in the midst of his march, received an embassy from

the Turks. The ambassador was received in Piper’s quarters; he kept

up his master’s dignity by a certain display of magnificence, and the

King, who was worse lodged, worse served, and more plainly clad than

the humblest officer in his army, would often say that Count Piper’s

quarters were his palace. The Turkish ambassador presented Charles

with 100 Swedish soldiers, who had been taken by the Calmouks and sold

in Turkey, redeemed by the Grand Master, and sent by him to the King

as the most agreeable present he could make him. Not that the proud

Ottoman meant to pay homage to the glory of Charles, but because the

Sultan, the natural enemy of the Emperors of Russia and Germany, wished

to strengthen himself against them by the friendship of the King of

Sweden and alliance with Poland.

The ambassador complimented Stanislas on his accession; so that he

had been owned as King, in a short time, by Germany, France, England,

Spain and Turkey. But the Pope deferred acknowledging him till time had

confirmed him in a kingship of which a sudden fall might deprive him.

Scarcely had Charles interviewed the ambassador of the Ottoman Porte

than he went in search of the Russians. The Czar’s troops had left

and returned to Poland more than twenty times during the war; as the

country lay open on all sides, without strongholds to cut the retreat

of an enemy, the Russians were often able to return to the very spot

where they had suffered defeat, and could even penetrate as far into

the country as the conqueror. During Charles’s stay in Saxony, the Czar

had advanced to Leopold, on the southern frontier of Poland. He was at

that time in the north, at Grodno, in Lithuania, about 100 leagues from

Leopold.

Charles left Stanislas in Poland with about 1,000 Swedes and his new

subjects to help him preserve his kingdom against his enemies at home

and abroad; he himself, at the head of his horse, marched through ice

and snow to Grodno, in January 1708. He had already passed the Niemen,

within two leagues of the town, before the Czar knew anything of his

march. Directly the news came that the Swedes were upon them, the

Czar left the town by the north gate, while Charles entered by the

south. The King had only six hundred of his guards with him, the rest

being unable to follow him. The Czar, imagining that a whole army was

entering Crodno, fled with 2,000 men; but he heard that very day from

a Polish deserter that he had abandoned the place to not more than six

hundred men, the body of the enemy’s army being still more than five

leagues away. He did not lose time, but sent a detachment of 15,000

cavalry in the evening to surprise the King of Sweden in the town. The

15,000 Russians, helped by the darkness of the night, advanced as far

as the first Swedish guard without recognition. This guard consisted

of thirty men, and they alone supported the charge of the 15,000 for

seven minutes. The King, who was at the other end of the town, came up

presently with his six hundred guards, and the Russians fled in haste.

In a short time his army joined him, and he pursued the enemy. All the

Russians dispersed throughout Lithuania, retiring hastily into the

Palatinate of Minski, where they had a rendezvous. The Swedes, whom

the King also divided into several corps, continued to pursue them for

about thirty leagues of their way. The fleers and the pursuers made

forced marches almost every day, though it was mid-winter.

The soldiers of Charles and the Czar had long become indifferent to the

seasons: it was only the terror inspired by the name of Charles which

made the difference between the Russians and the Swedes.

From Grodno eastward to the Borysthenes there is nothing but marshes,

deserts, mountains and immense forests. Even where the ground is

cultivated no provision was to be found; the country folk hid all

their grain and other dry goods underground. In order to find these

subterranean magazines, they had to sound the earth with long poles

tipped with iron. The Russians and the Swedes used these provisions

by turns, but they were not always discovered, nor were they always

sufficient when they were.

The King of Sweden, who had foreseen these difficulties, had provided

biscuit for his army, so that nothing hindered his march. After he had

crossed the forest of Minski, where his men were obliged every moment

to cut down trees to make way for the troops and baggage, he found

himself, on the 25th of June, 1708, near Borislou, in front of the

river Berezine.

The Czar had assembled the best part of his troops in this spot and

had entrenched himself to advantage; his aim was to hinder the Swedes

from crossing the river. Charles placed some of his regiment on the

banks of the Berezine, close to Borislou, as though he intended to

attempt the crossing in face of the enemy. At the same time he led

his army about three leagues up the river, threw a bridge across it,

cut his way through a body of 3,000 men who defended that post, and

marched straight against the enemy without a halt. The Russians did not

wait for his arrival, but immediately decamped and withdrew towards

Borysthenes, spoiling all the roads, and destroying all on their line

of march, so that they might at least delay the Swedes’ advance.

Charles surmounted all difficulties, continually advancing towards

Borysthenes. On his way he met 20,000 Russians, entrenched at a spot

called Hollosin, behind a marsh, which could not be reached without

crossing a river. Charles did not wait till the rest of his infantry

had arrived to make the attack, but threw himself into the water at the

head of his foot-guards, and crossed the river and the morass, though

the water was sometimes above his shoulders. While he thus attacked the

enemy, he ordered his cavalry to pass round the morass and take them in

the flank.

The Russians, amazed that no barrier could defend them, were

simultaneously routed by the King on foot, and by the Swedish horse.

The horse, having made their way through the enemy, joined the King in

the midst of the fray. He then mounted, but some time after, finding a

young Swedish noble named Gyllenstein, for whom he had great affection,

wounded in the fray and unable to walk, he insisted on his taking his

horse, and continued to command on foot at the head of his infantry.

Of all the battles he had ever fought, this was in all probability the

most glorious--that in which he was exposed to the greatest risks, and

in which he showed the greatest ability. The memory of it is kept by a

medal with the inscription, “Silvæ, paludes, aggeres, hostes, victi” on

one side and “Victrices copias alium laturus in orbem” on the other.

The Russians, driven out everywhere, recrossed the Borysthenes,

which separates Poland from their own country. Charles lost no time

in following them; he crossed the great river after them at Mohilou,

the last town in Poland, which is sometimes in the hands of the Poles,

sometimes in those of the Czar, after the usual fate of frontier places.

The Czar, seeing his empire, into which he was introducing arts and

commerce, becoming a prey to a war which might in a short time ruin

his plans, and perhaps lose him his throne, was thinking of peace, and

even made proposals by a Polish nobleman whom he sent to the Swedish

army. Charles, who had been unaccustomed to granting peace to his enemy

except in their capitals, only replied, “I will treat with the Czar at

Moscow.”

When the Czar heard this haughty answer, “My brother Charles,” he said,

“would still pose as Alexander, but I flatter myself he will find me no

Darius.”

From Mohilou, where the King crossed the Borysthenes, turning north

along the river, upon the frontiers of Poland and Russia, is situated

the country of Smolensko, through which lies the main road from Poland

to Moscow. The Czar fled by this road, and the King followed by forced

marches. Part of the Russian rearguard was more than once engaged with

the dragoons of the Swedish vanguard. Generally the latter got the

advantage, but they weakened themselves by these skirmishes, which

were never decisive, and always meant the loss of some of their men.

On the 22nd of September this year, 1708, the King attacked a body of

ten thousand horse and six thousand Calmouks near Smolensko.

These Calmouks are Tartars, living between Astrakan, which is part

of the Czar’s dominions, and Samarcande, the country of the Usbeck

Tartars. The Calmouks’ country stretches from the east to the mountains

which separate the Mogul from the western part of Asia. Those who

dwell near Astrakan are tributary to the Czar. He pretends to absolute

dominion over them, but their wandering life hinders him from subduing

them, and forces him to treat them as the Grand-Seignior treats the

Arabs, sometimes bearing with their robberies, and at others punishing

them.

There are always some of the Calmouks in the Russian army, and the Czar

had even succeeded in reducing them to discipline like the rest of his

soldiers.

The King fell on this army with only six regiments of horse and four

thousand infantry; he broke the Russian ranks at the head of his

Ostrogothic regiment and forced the enemy to retreat. The King advanced

upon them by rough and hollow ways where the Calmouks lay hid; they

then appeared and threw themselves between the regiment where the King

was fighting and the rest of the Swedish army. In an instant both

Russians and Calmouks had surrounded this regiment and made their

way close up to his Majesty. They killed two aides-de-camp who were

fighting near him. The King’s horse was killed under him, and as one

of the equerries was offering him another, both equerry and horse were

struck dead on the spot. Charles fought on foot, surrounded by some of

his officers who immediately hastened to rally round him.

Several were taken, wounded or slain, or swept off to a distance from

the King by the crowd which attacked them; so that there were only five

men left near him. By that extraordinary good luck which till then had

never deserted him, and on which he always relied, he had killed more

than a dozen of the enemy with his own hand without one wound. At last

Colonel Dardoff forced his way, with only one company of his regiment,

through the Calmouks, and came up just in time to save the King. The

rest of the Swedes put the Tartars to the sword. The army reformed,

Charles mounted, and, fatigued as he was, pursued the Russians two

leagues.

The conqueror was still on the main road to the capital of Russia. The

distance from Smolensko, where this battle was fought, to Moscow, is

about 100 French leagues; the army had scarcely any provisions. The

King was pressed to wait till General Levenhaupt, who was to bring up

reinforcements of 15,000 men, came to join him. Charles, who rarely

listened to advice, not only refused to listen to this wise counsel,

but, to the great amazement of the whole army, left the Moscow road,

and marched south towards Ukrania into the country of the Cossacks,

between lesser Tartary, Poland and Russia.

This country is about 100 French leagues from north to south, and about

the same from east to west. It is divided into two nearly equal parts

by the Borysthenes, which crosses from north-west to south-west; the

chief town is Baturin, on the little river Sem. The northernmost part

of Ukrania is under cultivation, and rich; the southernmost part, in

the forty-eighth degree, is one of the most fertile and at the same

time the most deserted districts in the world; bad management quite

counteracts its natural advantages.

The inhabitants of those parts, which border on lesser Tartary, neither

plant nor sow lest the Tartars of Budziac, Precop and Moldavia, who are

all brigands, should carry off their harvests.

Ukrania has always aspired to freedom; but being hedged in by Russia,

the dominions of the Grand-Seignior, and Poland, it has been obliged

to seek for a protector (who is, of course, a master) in one of those

States. First it put itself under the protection of Poland, who treated

it too much as a subject-state; then they appealed to the Russians,

who did their best to reduce them to serfdom. At first the Ukranians

had the privilege of choosing a prince, called general, but soon they

were deprived of this privilege, and their general was nominated by the

Russian Court.

The office was then filled by a Pole called Mazeppa; he had been

brought up as page to King John Casimir, and had got a little learning

at his Court. On the discovery of an intrigue with the wife of a Polish

nobleman, the latter had him tied, stark naked, to a wild horse, and

set him free in that state. The horse, which had been brought from

Ukrania, returned to its own country, carrying Mazeppa with him half

dead from hunger and fatigue. Some of the peasants gave him relief, and

he stayed a long time among them, and distinguished himself in several

attempts against the Tartars. The superiority of his intelligence made

him a person of consideration in the eyes of the Cossacks, and as his

reputation daily increased the Czar was forced to make him Prince of

Ukrania.

One day, as he was sitting at table with the Czar at Moscow, the

Emperor proposed to him to drill the Cossacks and make them more

independent. Mazeppa pointed out the situation of Ukrania and the

nature of the people as insurmountable obstacles. The Czar, who was

over-heated with wine, and had not always sufficient self-control,

called him a traitor, and threatened to have him impaled. On his return

into Ukrania Mazeppa planned a revolt. The Swedish army appearing

shortly after on the frontier facilitated matters for him, and he

resolved to gain independence, and to form for himself a powerful

kingdom from Ukrania and the ruins of the Russian Empire. He was a man

of great courage, of considerable enterprise, and most painstaking,

though he was advanced in years.

He made a secret league with the King of Sweden, to hasten the Czar’s

downfall and gain something himself out of it. He gave him a rendezvous

near the river Desna; Mazeppa promised to meet him there with 30,000

men, ammunition and provisions, and all his treasure, which was

immense. The Swedish army was therefore ordered to march towards that

part of the country, to the great regret of the officers, who knew

nothing of the King’s treaty with the Cossacks.

Charles sent orders to Levenhaupt to bring his troops and provisions

with all haste to Ukrania, where he intended passing the winter, that,

having subdued that country, he might conquer Russia the following

spring; meanwhile he advanced towards the river Desna, which flows into

the Borysthenes at Kiouw.

The obstacles they had hitherto encountered on their march were trifles

to those they met on this new route; they had to cross a forest fifty

leagues broad, which was full of marshes. General Lagercron, who led

the van with 5,000 men and pioneers, led the army thirty leagues too

far to the east. They had marched four days before the King discovered

their mistake. They regained the right road with some difficulty, but

almost all the artillery and wagons were stuck fast or sunk in the mud.

They then marched for twelve days in this painful and laborious fashion

till they had eaten the little biscuit they had left, and so they

arrived, spent with hunger and fatigue, on the banks of the Desna,

where Mazeppa was to meet them. Instead of the Prince, however, they

found a body of Russians advancing towards them on the other side of

the river. The King was much astonished, and decided to cross the Desna

and attack the enemy. The banks of this river were so steep that they

were obliged to let the soldiers down by cords; then they crossed in

their usual manner, some by swimming, some on hastily constructed rafts.

The band of Russians, which arrived at the same time, were only 8,000,

so that their resistance was feeble, and this obstacle was also

overcome.

Charles advanced further into this desolate country, uncertain of his

route and of Mazeppa’s fidelity; at last the latter appeared, but

rather as a fugitive than as a strong ally. The Russians had discovered

and prevented his plan: they had fallen upon the Cossacks and cut them

in pieces; his chief friends were taken red-handed, and thirty of them

had been broken on the wheel. His towns were reduced to ashes, his

treasures plundered, and the provisions he was preparing for the King

of Sweden seized. He himself escaped with difficulty, accompanied by

6,000 men, and some horses laden with gold and silver. But he held

out to the King the hope that he would be of some service from his

knowledge of this unknown country, and by the affection of the natives,

who, enraged with the Russians, came in troops to the camp, and brought

provisions.

Charles hoped that at least General Levenhaupt would come to repair

this ill fortune; he was to bring about 15,000 Swedes (of more use than

100,000 Cossacks), with stores and ammunition. He arrived at last, but

almost in the same condition as Mazeppa. He had already passed the

Borysthenes above Mohilou, and advanced about twenty leagues further on

the road to Ukrania. He brought the King a convoy of 8,000 wagons, with

the money he had raised in Lithuania and on march. On reaching Lesno,

near the spot where the rivers Pronia and Sossa unite to flow into the

Borysthenes far below, the Czar appeared at the head of 50,000 men.

The Swedish general, who had not quite 16,000, decided not to entrench.

Their many victories had given the Swedes so much confidence that they

never inquired as to the enemy’s numbers, but only their position.

Levenhaupt marched against them on the 7th of October, 1708, in the

afternoon. At the first attack they killed 15,000 Russians; the Czar’s

army took panic and fled in all directions, and the Emperor of Russia

thought he would be entirely defeated. He saw that the safety of his

dominions depended upon the action of the day, and that he could be

ruined if Levenhaupt joined the King of Sweden with a victorious army.

As soon as he saw his troops fall back he ran to the rear, where the

Cossacks and Calmouks were posted, and said, “I order you to fire on

every man who runs away, and even to shoot me, should I be so cowardly

as to turn my back.” Then he returned to the van and rallied the troops

in person, assisted by the Prince Menzikoff and Prince Gallitsin.

Levenhaupt, who had pressing orders to join his master, chose to

continue his march rather than to renew the battle, thinking that he

had done enough to discourage the enemy from pursuit.

No later than eleven the next morning the Czar attacked him on the

entrance to a morass, and spread his lines to surround him. The Swedes

faced about, and the fight lasted two hours with equal resolution on

both sides. The Russians lost three times as many men, but still held

their position, and the victory was undecided. At four General Bayer

brought the Czar reinforcements. The battle was then renewed for the

third time with greater fury than before, and lasted till nightfall.

Then the force of numbers carried the day; the Swedes were broken,

routed, and driven back on their baggage. Levenhaupt rallied his men

behind his chariots, and though they were conquered they did not flee.

Not one from an army of about 9,000 men took to flight. The general

formed them up as easily as if they had not been beaten. The Czar, on

the other hand, passed the night under arms, and ordered his soldiers

on pain of death, and his officers on pain of dismissal, to abstain

from plunder.

Next morning at daybreak he ordered a fresh attack. Levenhaupt had

retired to a strong position some miles distant, after having spiked

some of his cannon and fired some of his wagons. The Russians came up

just in time to hinder the whole convoy from being burned, and seized

six thousand wagons which they saved. The Czar, who wished to utterly

crush the Swedes, sent one of his generals, called Phulg, to attack

them for the fifth time, and he offered them honourable terms if they

would capitulate. Levenhaupt refused, and the fifth battle was as

bloody as any of the former ones. Of the 9,000 soldiers he had left he

lost half, the other half not breaking line. At last night came on,

and Levenhaupt, after having fought five battles against 50,000 men,

crossed the Sossa by swimming, followed by the 5,000 men remaining

to him. The wounded were carried over on rafts. The Czar lost about

20,000 Russians in these engagements, in which he had the glory of

conquering the Swedes, and Levenhaupt the credit of disputing the

victory for three days, and of retreating without being forced from his

last position. So that he came to his master’s camp with the honour

of having made so good a defence, but without ammunition or forces.

The King of Sweden, therefore, without provisions, and cut off from

communication with Poland, was surrounded by enemies in the midst of a

country where he had scarcely any resource but his own courage.

In this extremity the memorable winter of 1709, which was still more

severe in those frontiers of Europe than it was in France, destroyed

a part of his army. Charles resolved to defy the season as he had his

enemies; he ventured on long marches with his troops during the bitter

cold. It was on one of these marches that 2,000 of his men died of cold

before his very eyes. The cavalry had no boots, and the foot no shoes,

and hardly any clothes. They were forced to make footgear of the skins

of beasts as best they could, and they often went hungry. They had even

been obliged to throw the best part of their cannon into quagmires and

rivers for want of horses to draw them; so that this once flourishing

army was reduced to 24,000 men at the point of starvation. They

neither got news from Sweden, nor were they able to send there. In this

state of affairs one officer only complained. “What,” said the King

to him, “are you miserable at being so far from your wife? If you are

really a soldier I will lead you to such a distance that you will not

hear from Sweden once in three years.”

The Marquis of Brancas, now Swedish ambassador, told me that a soldier

ventured to present the King, before the whole army, with a piece of

bread that was black and mouldy. It was made from barley and oats,

and was the only food they then had, and that in scanty quantities.

The King received the piece of bread unmoved, ate it all, and then

said coolly to the soldier, “It is not good, but one can eat it.” This

characteristic touch, insignificant as it is (if, indeed, that should

be called insignificant which increases respect and confidence), did

more than all the rest to help the Swedish army to bear hardships which

would have been insupportable under any other general.

In these circumstances he at last received news from Stockholm, but

only that his sister the Duchess of Holstein, aged 27, had been carried

off by small-pox. She was as gentle and pitiful as her brother was

imperious and implacable in revenge. He had always been very fond of

her; he felt her loss the more as, now that the tide of his fortune had

turned, he was more susceptible. He learned also that they had carried

out his orders and raised troops and money, but could not send them to

his camp; for there lay between him and Stockholm nearly five hundred

leagues and an enemy with a superior force to encounter.

The Czar, who was as energetic as the King, after having sent fresh

forces into Poland to assist the confederates, united under General

Siniawski against Stanislas, and soon advanced into Ukrania, in the

middle of this severe winter, to oppose the King of Sweden. He stayed

there with the object of weakening the enemy by small engagements,

for by this means he thought the Swedish army must be quite wrecked

at last, as he was able to draw fresh forces every moment from his

dominions, while they could not get recruits. The cold there must have

been excessive, since it forced the two enemies to suspend hostilities.

But on the first of February, amid ice and snow, they began to fight

again.

After several small skirmishes and some reverses, the King’s army

was reduced in April to 18,000 men. Mazeppa alone, the Prince of the

Cossacks, supplied them with the necessaries of life; without his

assistance the army must have perished from hunger and destitution.

At this moment, the Czar, to attract Mazeppa to his service again,

offered him terms; but the Cossack stood by his new ally, either from

fear of the terrible punishment of the wheel, by which his friends had

perished, or because he sought revenge.

Charles, with his 18,000 Swedes and as many Cossacks, had not abandoned

his plan of reaching Russia. Towards the end of May he went to siege

Pultawa, on the river Vorskla, on the extreme eastern frontier of

Ukrania, about thirteen full leagues from the Borysthenes, where

the Czar had a magazine. This country is that of the Zaporavians,

the strangest people in the world. They are a collection of former

Russians, Poles, Tartars, and all make profession of a kind of

Christianity, and of a kind of freebooting brigandage. They elect a

chief, whom they depose or assassinate; they allow no women to live

among them, but they kidnap all the children for twenty or thirty

leagues round, and train them in their ways. During summer they are

always in the field, during winter they sleep in vast barns, containing

400 or 500 men. They fear nothing, and live at liberty; they risk death

for the smallest booty, with the same boldness with which Charles XII

faced it to bestow crowns. The Czar sent them 60,000 florins in the

hope that they would side with him; they took the money and then,

through the exertions of Mazeppa, declared for Charles: but they proved

of very little use, for they think it ridiculous to fight for anything

but booty. It was a great point gained that they did no harm: there

were about 2,000 of them at most who did regular duty. Ten of their

chiefs were one day presented to Charles, but they had great difficulty

in finding those who were not intoxicated, for they always began the

day in that condition. They were taken into the trenches, and showed

their skill in shooting with long rifles, for they could pick off the

enemies they singled out at 600 paces away. Charles added to these

bandits some 1,000 Valaques; then he laid siege to Pultawa, with an

army of about 30,000 men, in a wretched condition and wanting all

necessaries. The Czar had made Pultawa a magazine: if the King took

it it would open the road to Moscow for him, and he could await, well

supplied, the recruits he expected from Sweden, Livonia, Pomerania

and Poland. As, then, his sole resource lay in the taking of Pultawa,

he carried on the siege with vigour. Mazeppa, who had informants in

the town, assured him that he would soon master it, and hope began to

reanimate the army. His soldiers regarded the taking of Pultawa as the

end of all their miseries.

From the beginning of the siege the King realized that he had given

his enemies some useful lessons in the art of war. Prince Menzikoff,

in spite of all his precautions, threw reinforcements into the town,

and the garrison then amounted to almost 10,000 men. They made sorties,

sometimes successfully; but what made the town impregnable was the

approach of the Czar, who was advancing with 10,000 combatants. Charles

XII went to meet him on the 27th of May, his birthday, and beat

one of their corps; but as he was returning from his camp he got a

musket-shot, which pierced his boot and shattered his heel-bone. There

was not the least sign on his face that he had been shot; he continued

calmly to give his orders, and remained mounted nearly six hours after

the accident. One of his servants at last noticing that the sole of

his boot was covered with blood, ran for the doctor; then the King’s

pain was so acute that they had to take him off his horse and carry

him to his tent. The surgeons examined the wound and saw that it had

already begun to mortify, and thought that the leg must be cut off. The

consternation in the army was great. But one of the surgeons, called

Newman, better skilled and braver than the rest, was certain that he

could save the leg by means of a deep incision.

“Begin at once, then,” said the King; “cut boldly, fear nothing.” He

held his leg with his own hands, looking at the incisions made as if

they were in the leg of another.

As they were putting on the dressing he gave orders for an assault next

morning, but scarcely had he given the order than they brought him

word that the whole army of the enemy was upon him. He was therefore

obliged to alter his plan. Wounded and incapable of action, he found

himself shut in between the river Borysthenes and the river which

runs to Pultawa, in a desert district, with no forts or ammunition,

and opposed to an army which cut him off from retreat or provisions.

In this terrible position he did not, as might have been expected,

assemble a council of war, but on the night of 7th July he sent for

Marshal Renschild, and ordered him, without deliberation, but without

uneasiness, to prepare to attack the Czar next morning. Renschild did

not argue, but went to carry out his orders.

At the door of the King’s tent he met Count Piper, with whom, as

often happens between the minister and the general, he had long been

on bad terms. Piper asked him if there were anything new. “No,” said

the General coldly, and passed on to give his orders. As soon as

Piper entered the royal tent the King asked if Renschild had told him

anything. “Nothing,” answered Piper. “Well, then,” answered the King,

“I tell you that to-morrow we shall give battle.” Count Piper was

astonished at so desperate a resolve, but he knew that his master could

never be made to change his opinion; he only expressed his astonishment

by his silence, and left the King to sleep till dawn.

The battle of Pultawa was fought on the 8th of July, 1709, between the

two most famous monarchs in the world: Charles XII, distinguished by a

course of nine years’ victories, and Peter Alexiowitz by nine years of

painstaking training of his troops to an equality with the Swedes; the

one famed for having given away the dominions of others, the other for

having civilized his own; Charles loving danger and fighting only for

the sake of glory, Alexiowitz not running away from difficulties, and

making war from interested motives only; the Swedish King liberal from

a generous temperament, the Russian never generous but with some object

in view; the former sober and temperate in an extraordinary degree,

naturally brave and only once showing cruelty, the latter not having

thrown off the roughness of his education or his race, as terrible to

his subjects as he was wonderful to strangers, and addicted to excess

which, as a matter of fact, shortened his days. Charles bore the title

“Invincible,” which he might lose at any moment; the nations had

already given Peter the title “Great,” which he could not lose by any

defeat, as he did not owe it to his victories.

To get a clear idea of this battle and the place where it was fought,

one must imagine Pultawa to the north, the King of Sweden’s camp to

the south, slightly to the east; his baggage about a mile behind him,

and the river Pultawa on the north side of the town, running from east

to west. The Czar had passed the river about a league from Pultawa,

towards the west, and was beginning to form his camp. At daybreak

the Swedes appeared above their trenches with four cannon for their

artillery; the rest were left in the camp with about 3,000 men, and

4,000 remained with the baggage. So that the Swedish army marching

against the enemy consisted of about 25,000 men, of whom not more than

12,000 were regulars. Generals Renschild, Roos, Levenhaupt, Slipenbak,

Hoorn, Sparre, Hamilton, the Prince of Wirtemburg, a relation of the

King, and some others, most of whom had been at the battle of Narva,

reminded the subalterns of that day, when 8,000 Swedes had destroyed an

army of 100,000 Russians in entrenchments. The officers remarked it to

the soldiers, and all encouraged one another on the march.

The King conducted the march, carried in a litter at the head of his

infantry. By his order a party of horse advanced to attack that of the

enemy; the battle began with this engagement. At half-past four in

the morning the enemy’s cavalry lay to the west, on the right of the

Russian camp: Prince Menzikoff and Count Golowin had placed them at

intervals between redoubts fortified with cannon. General Slipenbak, at

the head of the Swedes, fell upon them. All who have served with the

Swedes know that it is almost impossible to resist their first onset.

The Russian squadrons were broken and put to flight. The Czar himself

ran to rally them, and his hat was pierced by a musket shot. Menzikoff

had three horses killed under him, and the Swedes shouted victory.

Charles was sure that the battle was gained; he had sent General Creuts

about midnight with five thousand horse to attack the enemy’s rear

while he attacked their front, but, as ill-luck would have it, Creuts

lost his way and did not appear.

The Czar, who had thought that all was lost, had time to rally his

cavalry, and fell on the King’s horse in his turn; unsupported by

Creuts’ detachment it was broken, and Slipenbak taken prisoner. At the

same time seventy-two cannon from the camp played on the Swedish horse,

and the Russian foot, issuing from their lines, advanced to attack

Charles.

The Czar then detached Menzikoff and sent him to take up a position

between Pultawa and the Swedes. He carried out his master’s orders

dexterously and promptly: not only did he cut the communication between

the Swedish army and the troops remaining in the camp at Pultawa, but

meeting a body of 3,000 reserves he cut them to pieces. Meanwhile, the

Russian foot issued from their lines and advanced in order into the

plain on the other side; the Swedish horse rallied within a quarter

of a league of the enemy’s army, and the King, assisted by General

Renschild, gave orders for a general engagement.

He ranged his remaining troops in two lines, his foot in the centre,

his horse on the two wings. The Czar arranged his forces in the same

way; he had the advantage in numbers and also seventy-two cannon, while

the Swedes had only four, and were running out of powder.

The Czar was in the centre of his army, and at that time bore the

title of Major-General, and was apparently in the service of General

Czeremetoff; but as Emperor he went from rank to rank, mounted on

a Turkish horse, a present from the Grand-Seignior, exhorting his

officers and soldiers and promising them all rewards. At nine in the

morning the battle began again. One of the first discharges of the

Russian cannon carried off the two horses of the King’s litter; he had

two others harnessed in, and a second volley shattered the litter and

threw the King out. The troops who were fighting near him believed he

was killed; in the consternation the Swedes lost ground, and, their

powder failing and the enemy’s cannon keeping up fire, the first line

fell back on the second, and the second fled. In this last action of

the Swedish army they were routed by a single line of 10,000 Russian

infantry; so much had matters changed. Prince Wirtemburg, General

Renschild and several leading officers were already prisoners; the camp

before Pultawa was forced, and all in utterly hopeless confusion. Count

Piper and other officers had left the camp and did not know what to

do, nor what had become of their King. They ran from one side of the

field to the other; Major Bere offered to lead them to the baggage, but

the clouds of dust and smoke which covered the field, and their own

confusion, carried them to the other side of the town, where they were

taken prisoners by the garrison.

The King was unwilling to flee, and would not defend himself. General

Poniatowski chanced to be with him at that moment. He was a colonel

of King Stanislas’ Swedish guards, and a person of remarkable merit,

who was so attached to Charles XII that he had accompanied him as a

volunteer to Ukrania. He was a man who in all the chances of life, and

in danger, where others would at most have only shown courage, always

made his plans at once and met with success; he signed to two soldiers,

who took the King under the arms and put him on horseback in spite of

the great pain of his wound.

Poniatowski, though he had no command in the army, being made general

by necessity on this occasion, rallied 500 horse round the King’s

person: some were dragoons, some ordinary troopers, some officers.

This band, inspired by the misfortune of their Prince, made their way

through more than ten regiments of Russians and took Charles through

the midst of the enemy, the distance of a league, to the baggage of the

Swedish army.

This amazing retreat was an achievement in such a disastrous situation,

but it was necessary for the King to flee further.

Though the King had never had a coach since he left Stockholm, they

found Count Piper’s among the baggage. They put him into it and started

for the Borysthenes with all haste. The King, who had not spoken a

single word from the time he was put on horseback till he came to

the baggage, then asked what had become of Count Piper. “He has been

taken prisoner with all his chancery officers,” they told him. “And

General Renschild and the Duke of Wirtemburg?” he asked. “They too are

prisoners,” said Poniatowski. “Prisoners of the Russians!” exclaimed

Charles, with a shrug; “let us rather escape to Turkey.” His expression

did not change, however, and whoever had seen him and been ignorant

of his position would never have suspected that he had been either

conquered or wounded.

While he was escaping the Russians seized his artillery in the camp

before Pultawa, his baggage and his military chest, containing

6,000,000 in specie, the spoil of Poland and Saxony. Nearly 9,000

Swedes were killed in the battle, about 6,000 were taken prisoners.

There still remained some 18,000, including Swedes and Poles, as well

as Cossacks, who escaped to the Borysthenes under the direction of

General Levenhaupt. He went one way with these fugitives while the

King, with some of his cavalry, took another direction. The coach

in which he was riding broke down by the way, and they put him on

horseback again. To complete his misfortunes he got lost in a wood

during the night; there his courage could no longer make up for his

spent strength, the pain of his wound was intensified by fatigue, and

his horse fell under him from exhaustion. He lay for some hours at the

foot of a tree, each moment in danger of a surprise from the conquerors

who were looking for him everywhere.

At last, on the night of July 9th, he found himself on the banks of the

Borysthenes, and Levenhaupt had just come up with the remnants of the

army. The Swedes saw with joy mingled with grief, their King whom they

had thought to be dead. The enemy drew near; they had no bridge to pass

the river, nor time to make one, nor powder to defend themselves with,

nor provisions to save the army from perishing with hunger, for they

had eaten nothing for two days.

At all events, the rest of the army were Swedes, and the conquered King

was Charles XII. Almost all the officers advised that a stand should be

made to meet the Russians, and that they should die or conquer on the

banks of the Borysthenes. Doubtless Charles would have decided on this

course had he not been overcome with weakness; his wound mortified and

he had fever; and it has been remarked that most men, when attacked

with the fever of suppuration, lose the instinct of valour which, like

other virtues, needs a calm head. Charles was no longer master of

himself. They carried him like a sick man who has lost consciousness.

Happily they had still a miserable calash, which they had brought to

that spot at great risk; they embarked it in a little boat, and the

King and General Mazeppa in another. The latter had saved several

coffers full of money, but as the current was very rapid and the wind

began to blow the Cossack threw more than three parts of his treasure

into the river to lighten the boat. Mullen, the King’s chancellor, and

Count Poniatowski, who was now more than ever indispensable to the

King, for his remarkable presence of mind in difficulties, crossed

over in other boats with some of the officers. Three hundred horsemen

and a large number of Poles and Cossacks, relying on the strength of

their horses, ventured to cross by swimming. Their troop, keeping close

together, resisted the current and broke the waves, but all who tried

to cross separately a little lower down were carried away and sank. Of

the foot that tried to cross not one got to the other side.

While the routed army was in this difficult position Prince Menzikoff

came up with 10,000 horse, each with a foot soldier behind him. The

bodies of the Swedes who had died on the way of wounds, fatigue

and hunger were an index to the Prince of the route that the army

had taken. The Prince sent a herald to the Swedish General to offer

capitulation. Immediately four generals were sent by Levenhaupt to

receive the conqueror’s order. Before that day 16,000 of King Charles’s

soldiers would have attacked the whole force of the Russian empire

and have perished to a man, rather than have surrendered; but after

a battle lost and a flight of two days, and after having lost their

Prince who had been forced to flee himself, the strength of every

soldier being spent and their courage no longer supported by hope, the

love of life overcame courage. The whole army was made prisoners of

war. Some of the soldiers, in despair at falling into Russian hands,

threw themselves into the Borysthenes, and the rest were made slaves.

They defiled in Prince Menzikoff’s presence and laid their arms at his

feet, as 30,000 Russians had done nine years before at the King of

Sweden’s at Narva.

But while the King then sent back all the Russian prisoners he was not

afraid of, the Czar kept all the Swedes that were taken at Pultawa.

These poor wretches were dispersed throughout the Czar’s dominions,

and particularly in Siberia, a vast province of greater Tartary which

stretches eastward to the frontiers of the Chinese empire. In this

barbarous country, where the use of bread was unknown, the Swedes,

ingenious through necessity, exercised the trades and arts they had

formerly been brought up to. All the distinctions which fortune makes

between men were then banished, the officer who had no handicraft

was forced to cut and carry wood for the soldier, who had now turned

tailor, draper, joiner, mason, or smith, and got a livelihood by

his labour. Some officers became painters and some architects, some

taught languages and mathematics; they even went so far as to erect

public schools, which gradually became so useful and famous that

they sent children there from Moscow. Count Piper, the King’s first

minister, was long imprisoned at Petersburg. The Czar, like the rest

of Europe, believed that this minister had sold his master to the Duke

of Marlborough, and so brought the arms of Sweden, which might have

pacified Europe, on Russia, and he made his captivity more severe

on this supposition. Piper died some years after at Moscow, having

received little assistance from his family, which lived in great

opulence at Stockholm, and uselessly lamented by his King, who would

never humble himself by offering a ransom, which he feared the Czar

would not accept, for there was never any challenge of exchange between

Charles and the Czar. The Emperor of Russia, elated by a joy which he

took no pains to conceal, received on the battle-field the prisoners

whom they brought to him in troops, and asked every moment, “Where,

then, is Charles my brother?”

He paid the Swedish Generals the compliment of inviting them to his

table; among other questions he asked Renschild: What were the numbers

of the army of the King his master before the battle? Renschild

answered that only the King had the list of them and never gave

information to any one, but that he thought the whole number might be

35,000 men, of whom 18,000 were Swedes and the rest Cossacks. The Czar

seemed surprised, and asked how they dare invade so distant a country

and lay siege to Pultawa with so small a force. “We were not always

consulted,” answered the Swedish General, “but like faithful servants

we obeyed our master’s orders without ever contradicting him.” On this

answer the Czar turned to certain courtiers, who had been suspected of

conspiring against him, “Ah!” he said, “see how a sovereign should be

obeyed.”

Then, taking a glass of wine, “To the health of my masters in the art

of war,” he said. Renschild asked who they were whom he honoured with

so high a title? “You, gentlemen, the Swedish Generals,” answered

the Czar. “Your Majesty is very ungrateful to handle your masters so

severely,” replied Renschild. When dinner was over the Czar ordered

their swords to be restored to all the officers, and treated them as a

Prince who had a mind to give his subjects lessons in generosity and

good breeding. But this same Prince, who treated the Swedish Generals

so well, had all the Cossacks he caught broken on the wheel.

Thus the Swedish army, which left Saxony in such triumph, was now no

more: one half having perished from want, and the other half being

enslaved or massacred. Charles XII had lost in one day the fruit of

nine years’ labours and almost a hundred battles.

He fled in a wretched calash, with General Hoorn, dangerously wounded;

the rest of his troops followed, some on horseback, some in wagons,

across a desert where there were neither huts, tents, men, animals nor

roads; everything, even water, was lacking.

That was at the beginning of July. The country is in the forty-seventh

degree of latitude; the sun’s heat was made less endurable by the dry

sand of the desert; horses fell by the way, and men were near dying

of thirst. Towards night they found a spring of muddy water; they

filled bottles with the water, which saved the lives of the King’s

little troop. After five days’ march he found himself on the banks of

the river Hippais, now called the Bogh by the barbarians, who have

disfigured even the names of the countries to which Greek colonies had

brought prosperity. This river joins the Borysthenes some miles lower,

and with it falls into the Black Sea. Beyond the Bogh, towards the

south, is the little town of Oczakou, frontier-town of the Turkish

empire. The inhabitants, seeing approach a troop of men-at-arms whose

dress and language were strange to them, refused to carry them over to

Oczakou without an order from the Governor of the town, Mahomet-Bacha.

The King sent this Governor an express message, asking for a passage.

But the Turk, not knowing how to act in a country where a false step

often costs a man his life, dare not act on his own responsibility

without the permission of the Pasha of the province, who lived at

Bender, in Bessarabia, thirty leagues from Oczakou. While they were

awaiting this permission the Russians had crossed the Borysthenes, and

approached to seize the King himself.

At last the Pasha sent word to the King saying that he would send a

small boat for him and for two or three of his suite. Then the Swedes

seized by force what they could not obtain by gentle means: some went

to the other bank in a little skiff, and seizing some boats brought

them to their bank. This was the means of their rescue, for the owners

of the Turkish boats, fearing to lose the chance of some gain, came

in crowds to offer their services; just at this moment the favourable

reply of the Governor of Bender arrived. But the Russians came up,

and the King had the misfortune of seeing 500 of his followers who

had not been able to get over in time seized by the enemy, whose

insulting boasts he heard. The Pasha of Oczakou asked his pardon, by an

interpreter, for these delays, which had caused the capture of the 500

men, and besought him not to mention it to the Grand-Seignior. Charles

promised, after scolding him as if he were one of his own subjects.

The Commander of Bender sent in haste an aga to wait on the King, and

offer him a magnificent tent, provisions, wagons, all conveniences,

officers and attendants, necessary to bring him with splendour to

Bender. For it is customary with the Turks not only to defray the

expenses of ambassadors to their place of residence but plentifully to

supply, during the time of their sojourn, the needs of the Princes who

take refuge among them.

BOOK V

BOOK V

The state of the Ottoman Porte--Charles retires to Bender--His

occupations--His intrigues at the Porte--His plans--Augustus

restored--The King of Denmark attacks Sweden--All the King’s

other territories are invaded--The Czar keeps festival at

Moscow--The affair of Pruth--History of the Czarina.

ACHMET the third was then Emperor of the Turks. He had been placed on

the throne in 1703, replacing his brother Mustapha, by a revolution

like that which in England transferred the crown from James II to his

son-in-law William. Mustapha was under the control of his Mufti, whom

the people hated, and made his whole empire revolt against him. His

army, with which he had reckoned to punish the malcontents, joined

them, and he was seized, unceremoniously deposed, and his brother

taken from the seraglio to be made Sultan, almost without bloodshed.

Achmet confined the deposed Sultan in Constantinople, where he survived

for several years, to the great surprise of the Turks, who had been

accustomed to see the dethronement of their kings followed by their

death. The only return the new Sultan made to the ministers, the

generals, the officers of janissaries, and to those who had part in the

revolution, was to execute them one after the other, for fear they

should subsequently attempt another revolution. By the sacrifice of

so many brave men he weakened the empire but strengthened his throne.

Henceforth his mind was bent on amassing treasure. He was the first of

the sultans who ventured to make a small alteration in the money, and

to impose a new tax; but he was obliged to give up both these plans for

fear of a rebellion, for the rapacity and tyranny of the Grand Seignior

is felt only by the officers of the empire, who, whoever they may

be, are slaves of the sultan; but the rest of the Mussulmans live in

absolute security, with no fears for their lives, fortunes and liberty.

Such was the Emperor of the Turks, to whom the King of Sweden fled for

refuge. He wrote to him as soon as he arrived in his territory. His

letter is dated 13th of July, 1709. Several different copies of it

are extant, which are all condemned as mere fabrications, but of all

those which I have seen there is not one which does not display pride,

and which was not rather in accordance with his courage than with his

situation.

The Sultan did not reply till towards the end of September. The pride

of the Ottoman Porte made Charles feel the gulf that it considered

existed between the Turkish Emperor and a Christian fugitive and

conquered King of part of Scandinavia.

Charles was, as a matter of fact, treated as an honourable prisoner.

But he formed the design of turning the Ottoman arms against his

enemies; he believed he could subdue Poland again, and reduce Russia

to submission; he sent an envoy to Constantinople, but his best helper

in his great project was Poniatowski, who went to Constantinople

unofficially, and soon made himself indispensable to the King,

agreeable to the Porte, and dangerous to the grand vizirs themselves.

One of those who seconded his designs most cleverly was a Portuguese

doctor, Fonseca, living at Constantinople, a learned and able man, who

had knowledge of men as well as of his own art, and whose profession

gave him access to the Court, and often intimacy with the vizirs. I

knew him well at Paris, and he confirmed all the details which I am

going to relate. Count Poniatowski told me himself that he was clever

enough to get letters through to the Sultana Valida, mother of the

reigning Emperor, who had been at one time ill-used by her son, but

was now beginning to recover her influence in the seraglio. A Jewess,

who was often with the princess, was perpetually talking of the King

of Sweden’s exploits, and charmed her by reciting them. The Sultana,

by a secret inclination which most women feel for extraordinary men,

even without having ever seen them, took the King’s part openly in the

seraglio and called him “her lion.” “When will you,” she said sometimes

to the Sultan her son, “help my lion to devour this Czar?” She even

went beyond the strict rules of the seraglio so far as to write several

letters with her own hand to Count Poniatowski, who still possesses

them.

However, the King was taken to Bender with pomp, across the desert

formerly called the desert of Getæ. The Turks took care that his

journey should be made as agreeable as possible; many Poles, Swedes

and Cossacks, who had escaped from the Russians, came from different

directions to increase his train. When he arrived at Bender he had

1,800 men with him, all fed and lodged, they and their horses, at the

expense of the Grand Seignior.

The King chose to encamp near Bender rather than in the town. The

Serasquier, Jussuf, had a magnificent tent pitched for him, and also

furnished all his suite with tents; some time after the King built

a house on this spot, and his officers followed his example. The

soldiers, too, raised barracks, so that the camp became gradually a

little town.

The King was not yet cured of his wound, and had to have a decayed bone

removed from his leg, but as soon as he could mount a horse he renewed

his usual exercises, rising at sunrise, tiring out three horses a day,

and making his soldiers drill. His only amusement was an occasional

game of chess. If details are typical of character, it may be remarked

that he always brought out his king in the game; he used him more than

his other pieces, and so always lost the game.

At Bender he found plenty of everything about him, rare good fortune

for a conquered and fugitive king; for besides more than enough

provisions and the 500 crowns a day he got from the Ottoman generosity,

he got money also from France, and borrowed of the Constantinople

merchants. Part of this money was used to carry on the intrigues in the

seraglio, in buying the vizirs or procuring their downfall; the rest

he distributed profusely among his officers and the janissaries who

guarded him at Bender.

Grothusen, his favourite and treasurer, dispensed these bounties; he

was a man who, contrary to the custom of a man of his station, was

as eager to give as his master. One day he brought him an account

of 60,000 crowns in two lines, “10,000 given to the Swedes and

janissaries, and the rest eaten up by me.” “This,” said the King, “is

the kind of balance-sheet that I like; Mullern makes me read whole

pages for the sum of 10,000 francs, I like Grothusen’s laconic style

much better.” One of his old officers, thought to be slightly covetous,

complained to the King that he gave everything to Grothusen. “I give

money,” answered the King, “to none but those who know how to make use

of it.” This generosity often reduced him to such straits that he had

nothing to give. Better economy in his liberality would have been

more to his advantage and no less honourable, but it was the Prince’s

failing to carry all the virtues to excess.

Many strangers hurried from Constantinople to see him. The Turks and

the neighbouring Tartars came in crowds; all honoured and admired him.

His rigid abstinence from wine, and his regularity in attending public

prayers twice a day, spread the report that he was a true Mussulman.

They burned to march with him to the conquest of Russia.

During this life of leisure at Bender, which was longer than he had

expected, he developed unconsciously a great taste for books. Baron

Fabricius, nobleman of the duchy of Holstein, an agreeable youth who

had the gaiety and the ready wit which appeals to princes, induced him

to read. He had been sent to him as envoy from the Duke of Holstein, to

protect the interests of the latter, and succeeded by the amiability of

his manner.

He had read all the French authors, and persuaded the King to read the

tragedies of Corneille, and of Racine, and the works of Despreaux; the

King did not at all enjoy the latter’s satires, which are by no means

his best performances, but he appreciated his other writings, and when

he read the passage in the eighth satire, where he calls Alexander a

“frantic madman,” he tore out the leaf.

Of all the French tragedies Mithradates pleased him most, because the

condition of the King, conquered and breathing forth vengeance, was

like his own. He pointed out to M. Fabricius the passages that struck

him, but he would read nothing aloud, nor venture on a word of French.

Even afterwards, when he met M. Desaleurs, the French ambassador to the

Porte, a person of distinction, who only knew his mother-tongue, he

answered him in Latin, and when the ambassador protested that he did

not understand a word of that language he called for an interpreter,

rather than express himself in French. Such were the occupations of

Charles at Bender, where he was waiting till a Turkish army should come

to his assistance.

His ambassador presented memoirs in his name to the Grand Vizir,

Poniatowski, and supported them with his readily-acquired prestige.

The intrigue succeeded entirely; he wore only Turkish dress, and he

insinuated himself everywhere; the Grand Seignior had him presented

with a purse containing 1,000 ducats, and the Grand Vizir said to

him, “I will take your King with one hand, and a sword in the other,

and I will lead him to Moscow at the head of 200,000 men.” But the

first minister soon changed his mind. The King could only treat, while

the Czar could pay; he did pay, and it was the money that he gave

that Charles used; the military chest taken at Pultawa provided new

arms against the vanquished. No more mention was made of making war

on Russia. The Czar’s influence was all-powerful at the Porte; they

granted honours and privileges to his ambassador at Constantinople

such as had never been enjoyed by a previous envoy; he was allowed to

have a seraglio, that is, a palace in the quarters of the Franks, and

to converse with foreign ministers. The Czar even felt strong enough

to demand that Mazeppa should be handed over to him, just as Charles

had demanded Patkul. Chourlouli-Ali-Pasha now found it impossible to

refuse anything to a Prince who made demands with millions behind him.

Thus the same Grand Vizir who had solemnly promised to take the King of

Sweden to Russia with 200,000 men, had the impudence to propose to him

that he should consent to the betrayal of Mazeppa. Charles was enraged

at the request. It is hard to say how far the Vizir would have carried

the matter had not Mazeppa, who was then seventy years old, died at

this juncture.

The King’s grief and resentment increased when he heard that Tolstoy,

who had become ambassador from the Czar to the Porte, was served in

public by the Swedes who had been enslaved at Pultawa, and that these

brave men were daily sold in the market-place at Constantinople.

Besides, the Russian ambassador remarked aloud that the Mussulman

troops at Bender were there rather as a guard to the King than for his

honour.

Charles, abandoned by the Grand Vizir, and conquered by the Czar’s

money in Turkey, as he had been by his arms in Ukrania, found himself

deluded, scorned by the Porte, and a kind of prisoner among the

Tartars. His followers began to despair. He alone remained firm and did

not show dejection even for a moment. He thought that the Sultan was

ignorant of the intrigues of his Grand Vizir; he determined to inform

him, and Poniatowski undertook this bold task. Every Friday the Grand

Seignior went to the mosque, surrounded by Solacks, a kind of guard,

whose turbans were so high that they hid the Sultan from the people.

Any one who had a petition to present to the Sultan, must mingle with

these guards, and hold the petition up in the air. Sometimes the Sultan

deigned to take it himself, but generally he bade an aga take charge of

it, and afterwards, on his return from the mosque, had the petitions

laid before him. There was no fear that any one would importune him

with unnecessary petitions, or petitions about trifling affairs, for

at Constantinople they write less in a year than at Paris in a day.

Much less dare any one present petitions against the ministers, to whom

the Sultan hands them generally without reading them. But Poniatowski

had no other means of conveying the King of Sweden’s complaints to the

Grand Seignior. He drew up a strong indictment of the Grand Vizir. M.

de Feriol, then Turkish ambassador from France, got it translated into

Turkish. A Greek was hired to present it; he mingled himself with the

King’s guards, and held up the paper so high, and so persistently, that

the Sultan saw it and took it himself.

Some days after, the Sultan sent the King of Sweden, as the only answer

to his complaints, twenty-five Arabian horses, one of which had carried

his Highness, and was covered with a saddle enriched with precious

stones, and with massive gold stirrups. With this present he sent a

polite letter, couched in general terms, and such as seemed to show

that the Vizir had acted with the Sultan’s orders. Chourlouli, too, who

knew how to dissemble, sent five fine horses to the King.

Charles said haughtily to the man who brought them, “Return to your

master and say that I do not receive presents from my enemies.” M.

Poniatowski, who had already had the courage to get a petition against

the Grand Vizir presented, had formed the bold plan of having him

deposed; he knew that the Vizir was no favourite of the Sultan’s

mother, and that he was hated both by Kislar-aga, the chief of the

black eunuchs, and by the aga of the janissaries. So he urged them all

three to speak against him. It was a strange sight to see a Christian,

a Pole, an unaccredited agent of the King of Sweden who had refuged

with the Turks, caballing almost openly at the Porte, against a Viceroy

of the Ottoman Empire, and one who was, too, both a useful minister

and a favourite of his master.

Poniatowski would never have succeeded, and the mere notion of his

design would have cost him his life, had not a stronger power than

those on his side given the last blow to the Grand Vizir Chourlouli’s

fortune. The Sultan had a young favourite, who has since governed the

Ottoman Empire and been killed in Hungary in 1716, at the battle of

Petervaradin, gained over the Turks by Prince Eugene of Savoy. His name

was Coumourgi-Ali-Pasha; his birth much the same as that of Chourlouli;

he was the son of a coal-heaver--as the name signified--for Coumir is

Turkish for coal. The Emperor Achmet II, uncle of Achmet III, meeting

Coumourgi as a child in a wood near Adrianople, was so struck by his

great beauty that he had him taken to the seraglio. Mustapha, Mahomet’s

eldest son and successor, was taken with him, and Achmet III made him

his favourite; he was then only selic-tar-aga, sword-bearer to the

crown. His extreme youth did not allow him to stand for the office of

Grand Vizir, but his ambition was to make it. The Swedish faction could

never gain this favourite; he was never a friend of King Charles, or of

any other Christian prince, or their ministers, but on this occasion he

was unconsciously of service to the King. He united with the Sultana

Valida, and the leading officer of the Porte, to bring about the fall

of Chourlouli, whom they all hated. This old minister, who had served

his master long and well, was the victim of the caprice of a boy and

the intrigues of a stranger. He was deprived of his dignity and his

wealth, his wife, daughter of the last Sultan, taken from him, and

he himself banished to Cassa in Crimean-Tartary. The bul, i.e. the

seal of the Empire, was given to Numan Couprougli, grandson of the

great Couprougli who took Candia. This new Vizir was what misinformed

Christians hardly believe a Turk can be, a man of incorruptible

virtue and a scrupulous observer of the law, which he often set up in

opposition to the will of the Sultan.

He would not hear of a war against Russia, which he thought unjust

and unnecessary, but the same respect for the law which prevented him

from waging war against the Czar, made him punctilious in the duty of

hospitality to the King of Sweden. “The law,” he said to his master,

“forbids you to attack the Czar, who has done you no harm, but it

commands you to help the King of Sweden, who is an unfortunate Prince

in your dominions.”

He sent his Majesty 800 purses (a purse being worth 500 crowns), and

advised him to return peaceably into his own country, through the

territories of the Emperor of Germany, or in some French vessels

that were then lying in the harbour at Constantinople, and which M.

de Feriol, the French ambassador, offered to Charles to take him to

Marseilles. Count Poniatowski continued negotiations with the minister,

and gained in the negotiations an ascendancy of which Russian gold

could no longer deprive him in dealing with an incorruptible minister.

The Russian faction thought that the best plan was to poison such a

dangerous diplomat. They bribed one of his servants, who was to give

him poison in his coffee; the crime was discovered in time; they found

the poison in a little vial which they took to the Grand Seignior;

the poisoner was judged in full divan, and condemned to the galleys,

because, by Turkish law, crimes that have failed of execution are never

punished by death.

Charles, still persuaded that sooner or later he would succeed in

making the Turkish Empire declare against that of Russia, would agree

to none of the proposals for his return in peace to his own dominions;

he persisted in pointing out to the Turks as dangerous the very Czar

whom he had long despised; his emissaries kept up their insinuations

that Peter the Great was aiming at gaining control of shipping in the

Black Sea; that, after having beaten the Cossacks, he had designs on

the Crimea. Sometimes his representations roused the Porte, sometimes

the Russian minister nullified their effect.

While he was thus letting his fate depend on the caprice of a vizir,

and was forced to put up with the affronts as well as accept the

favours of a foreign power--while he was presenting petitions to the

Sultan, and living on hospitality in a desert--his enemies roused

themselves to attack his kingdom.

The battle of Pultawa was at once the signal for a revolution in

Poland. King Augustus returned thither, protesting against his

abdication and the Peace of Altranstadt, and openly accusing Charles,

whom he now no longer feared, of robbery and cruelty. He imprisoned

Finsten and Imof, his plenipotentiaries, who had signed the abdication,

as if in so doing they had exceeded their orders and betrayed

their master. His Saxon troops, which had been the excuse for his

dethronement, brought him back to Warsaw with most of the Polish counts

who had formerly sworn fidelity to him, had afterwards done the same to

Stanislas, and were about to renew their oath to Augustus. Siniawski

himself joined his party, forgetting the idea he had had of making

himself King, and was content as Grand General of the crown. Fleming,

his first minister, who had been obliged to leave Saxony for a time,

for fear of being given up as Patkul had been, managed matters at that

time so as to bring over a great part of the Polish nobility to his

master.

The Pope released his people from the oath of allegiance they had sworn

to Stanislas. This step of the Holy Father, taken at the right time,

and supported by Augustus’s forces, had no small weight in establishing

the interests of the Court of Rome in Poland, where they then had no

wish to dispute with the sovereign pontiff the chimerical right of

meddling with the temporalities of kings.

Every one was ready to submit to Augustus’s authority again, and

received without the least opposition a useless absolution which the

Nuncio did not fail to represent as necessary.

Charles’s power and the greatness of Sweden were now drawing to their

last phase. For some time more than ten crowned heads had viewed the

extension of Sweden beyond her natural boundaries, to the other side

of the Baltic, and from the Duna to the Elbe, with fear and envy.

Charles’s fall and absence awakened the interests and jealousy of all

these princes, after they had lain dormant for a long time through

treaties and inability to break them.

The Czar, who was more powerful than them all together, making the best

use of his victory, took Wibourg, and all Carelia, inundated Finland

with troops, besieged Riga, and sent a corps into Poland to help

Augustus to recover the throne. The Emperor was then what Charles had

once been--the arbiter of Poland and the North; but he consulted only

his own interests, whereas Charles’s ambitions were always of glory or

vengeance. The Swedish monarch had helped his friends, and overcome

his enemies, without exacting the smallest reward for his victories;

but the Czar, rather a prince than a hero, would not help the King of

Poland except on condition that Livonia should be given up to him,

and that this province, for the sake of which Augustus had begun war,

should belong to the Russians for ever.

The King of Denmark, forgetting the treaty of Travendal as Augustus

had that of Altranstadt, had from that time thoughts of making himself

master of the Duchies of Holstein and Bremen, to which he renewed

his claim. The King of Prussia had long-standing claims to Swedish

Pomerania which he wished to revive; the Duke of Mecklenburg was

provoked at seeing Sweden still in possession of Wismar, the finest

city in his duchy. This Prince had married the Emperor of Russia’s

niece, and his uncle was only looking for an excuse to establish

himself in Germany, after the example of the Swedes. George, Elector of

Hanover, also wanted to enrich himself from the spoiling of Charles.

This Bishop of Munster, too, would have been glad to have made some

claims had he possessed the means to do so.

There were about 12,000 or 13,000 Swedes defending Pomerania, and the

other districts which Charles held in Germany; here was the seat of

war. But this storm alarmed the Emperor and his allies. It is a law

of the Empire that whoever invades one of the provinces should be

considered an enemy to the whole Germanic body.

But there was still greater difficulty involved, for all these princes,

except the Czar, were then leagued against Louis XIV, whose power had

for some time been as formidable to the Empire as that of Charles

himself.

At the beginning of the century Germany found herself hard pressed

between the French on the south and the Swedes on the north. The French

had crossed the Danube, and the Swedes the Oder; if their victorious

forces had united, the Empire would have been lost. But the same

fatality that had ruined Sweden had also humbled France; yet some

resources still remained to Sweden, and Louis carried on the war with

vigour, though unsuccessfully. If Pomerania and the Duchy of Bremen

became the seat of war, it was to be feared that the Empire would

suffer, and being weakened on that side would be the less able to

withstand Louis. To prevent this, the Princes of Germany, Queen Anne of

England, and the States of Holland, concluded at the Hague, in 1709,

one of the most extraordinary treaties ever signed.

It was stipulated by these powers that the seat of the war should not

be in Pomerania, nor any other German State, but that Charles might be

attacked by his enemies anywhere else. The King of Poland and the Czar

themselves agreed to this treaty, and had a clause inserted which was

as strange as the treaty itself, to the effect that the 12,000 Swedes

in Pomerania should not leave it to defend their other provinces.

To safeguard the treaty it was proposed to raise an army, which was to

encamp on the Oder, to maintain this imaginary neutrality. It was an

unheard-of thing, to levy an army to prevent war! Those who were paying

the forces were, for the most part, very much concerned to bring about

the war they were pretending to prevent. The army was, by the treaty,

to consist of the troops of the Emperor, the King of Prussia, the

Elector of Hanover, the Landgrave of Hesse, and the Bishop of Munster.

This project was, as might be expected, not carried through. The

princes who were to furnish their quota for the army contributed

nothing; not two regiments were formed. There was much talk of

neutrality, but no one observed it; and all the Northern princes who

had any controversy with the King of Sweden were left at full liberty

to dispute who should have his spoils.

At this point the Czar, having stationed his forces in Lithuania and

left orders for carrying on the siege of Riga, returned to Moscow,

to show his people a sight as new as anything he had yet done in his

kingdom. It was a triumph little inferior to that of the ancient

Romans. He made his entry into Moscow under seven triumphal arches,

erected in the streets, and adorned with all that could be produced

in that climate, and that the flourishing trade which his energy had

nourished could supply. The procession began with a regiment of guards,

followed by the artillery taken from the Swedes at Lesnow and Pultawa,

each piece being drawn by eight horses with scarlet trappings hanging

to the ground. Then came the standards, kettle-drums, and the colours

won at these two battles, and carried by the officers who had won

them; all the spoils were followed by the Czar’s picked troops. After

they had filed past, the litter of Charles XII, in a chariot made for

the purpose, appeared as it had been found on the battle-field, all

shattered by cannon-shot. Behind this litter marched the prisoners

two by two, and among them Count Piper, Prime Minister of Sweden,

the famous Marshal Renschild, Count Levenhaupt, Generals Slipenbak,

Hamilton, and Stackelburg, and all the officers and soldiers who were

later scattered through Russia. Immediately behind them came the Czar,

riding the same horse he had used at Pultawa; just behind him were the

generals who had their share in the success of this battle; after them

came another regiment of guards, and the wagons loaded with Swedish

ammunition brought up the rear.

This procession was accompanied by the ringing of all the bells in

Moscow, by the sound of drums, kettle-drums and trumpets, and an

infinite number of musical instruments, echoing each other. Volleys

were discharged from 200 cannon, to the acclamations of 5,000,000 men,

who at every halt of the Czar in his entry cried, “God save the Emperor

our father!”

This imposing procession increased the people’s veneration for his

person, and gave him greater prestige in their eyes than all the good

he had really done them. In the meantime he continued the blockade of

Riga, and the generals subdued the rest of Livonia and part of Finland.

At the same time the King of Denmark came with his entire fleet to

attack Sweden, where he landed with 1,700 men, whom he left under the

command of Count Reventlau.

At that time Sweden was governed by a regency, composed of some

Senators appointed by the King at his departure from Sweden. The

Senatorial body, which regarded the right of governing as their

prerogative, were jealous of the regency. The State suffered from these

divisions, but directly they received news at Stockholm after Pultawa,

that the King was at Bender in the hands of the Turks and Tartars,

and that the Danes had made an attack on Schoner and had taken the

town of Elsingburg, all jealousy disappeared, and they concentrated

on saving Sweden. There were now very few regulars left, for though

Charles had always made his great expeditions with small armies, yet

his innumerable battles for nine years, the continual necessity for

recruits, the maintenance of his garrisons, and the standing army

he was obliged to maintain in Finland, Livonia, Pomerania, Bremen,

and Verden, had cost Sweden, during the course of the war, more than

250,000 men; there were not as many as 8,000 of the veterans who, with

raw forces, were now Sweden’s only resource.

The nation is born with a passion for war, and every people

unconsciously imitate their King. Nothing was discussed from one end

of the country to the other but the great exploits of Charles and his

generals, and of the old regiment which fought under them at Narva,

Duna, Crassau, Pultask, and Hollosin. Thus the humblest of the Swedes

were filled with a spirit of emulation and thirst for glory. Besides

this, they loved their King, were sorry for him, and hated the Danes

thoroughly. In many other countries the peasants are slaves or are

treated as such; here they form part of the body politic, consider

themselves citizens, and think worthy thoughts. So that in a short time

these forces became the best in the North.

By order of the regency, General Steinbock put himself at the head of

8,000 veteran troops and 12,000 recruits, to pursue the Danes, who were

ravaging all the country round Elsingburg, and had already put some

places far inland under contribution.

There was neither time nor money to get uniforms for the soldiers;

most of the country labourers came dressed in their linen smocks,

with pistols tied to their girdles by cords. Steinbock, at the head

of this extraordinary army, came up with the Danes three leagues from

Elsingburg, on the 10th March, 1710. He intended to rest his troops

some days, to entrench, and to give his raw recruits time to get

accustomed to the enemy; but the peasants clamoured to fight directly

they arrived.

Some officers who were there told me that they saw them almost all

foaming with rage, so great is the Swede’s hatred of the Dane.

Steinbock took advantage of this disposition, which is almost as

effective in war as military discipline. The Danes were attacked, and

the strange sight was seen--of which there are, perhaps, no two other

instances--of raw forces equalling in bravery a veteran corps at the

first attack. Two regiments of these undisciplined peasants cut the

Danish army to pieces, and left only ten survivors.

The Danes, entirely routed, retreated under the cannon of Elsingburg.

The passage from Sweden to Zeeland is so short that the King of Denmark

heard of the defeat of his army in Sweden the same day at Copenhagen,

and sent his fleet to bring off the remnant of his army. The Danes

hastily left Sweden five days after the battle, but, being unable to

bring away their horses, and not wishing to leave them to the enemy,

they killed them all and fired their provisions, burning their corn and

baggage, and leaving 4,000 wounded in Elsingburg. The majority of these

died from the infection from the large number of dead horses, and from

lack of food, which even their own countrymen deprived them of, lest

they should fall into Swedish hands.

At the same time the peasants of Delecarlia, having heard in the

depths of their forests that the King was prisoner in Turkey, sent a

deputation to the Regency at Stockholm, offering to go, at their own

expense, to rescue their master from the enemy’s hands with a force of

20,000 men. This proposal, useless as it was, was heard with pleasure,

because it proved the courage and loyalty of the proposers, though it

was rejected; and they gave the King an account of it, when they sent

him word about Elsingburg. King Charles received this cheering news

in his camp near Bender, in July 1710, just after another event which

confirmed him in his hopes.

The Grand Vizir Couprougli, who was opposed to his plans, was turned

out of office after he had been in the ministry two months. Charles

XII’s little Court, and his adherents in Poland, boasted that he made

and removed vizirs, and was governing Turkey from his retreat at

Bender. But he had no hand in the ruin of this favourite.

The rigid justice of the Vizir, it was said, was the only cause of his

fall; his predecessor had been accustomed to pay the janissaries, not

out of the Imperial treasury, but from the money he got by extortion.

Couprougli, on the other hand, paid them from the treasury. For this

Achmet accused him of putting the subjects’ interest before that of

the Emperor. “Your predecessor, Chourlouli,” he said, “managed to find

other ways of paying my troops.” The Grand Vizir replied, “If he had

the art of enriching your Highness by theft, it is an art of which I am

proud to be ignorant.”

The great secrecy observed in the seraglio rarely lets such stories

leak out, but this got known at the time of Couprougli’s fall. The

Vizir’s courage did not cost him his head, because real goodness often

forces even those whom it offends to respect. He had leave to retire to

the island of Negropont.

After this the Sultan sent for Baltagi Mahomet Pasha of Syria, who had

been Grand Vizir before Chourlouli. The Baltagis of the seraglio, so

called from balta, meaning an axe, are slaves employed to cut wood for

the use of princes of the blood and the Sultana. This Vizir had been

baltagi in his youth, and had always retained the name, according to

the custom of the Turks, who are not ashamed to bear the name of their

first profession, their father, or their birthplace. While Baltagi

was a servant in the seraglio he was fortunate enough to do Prince

Achmet some trifling service, that Prince being then a prisoner of

State in the reign of his brother Mustapha. Achmet gave one of his

female slaves, of whom he had been very fond, to Baltagi Mahomet,

when he became Sultan. This woman made her husband Grand Vizir by her

intrigues; another intrigue deposed him, while a third made him Grand

Vizir again. Baltagi had no sooner received the seal of the Turkish

empire than he found the party of the King of Sweden dominant in the

seraglio. The Sultana Valida, the Sultan’s favourite, the chief of the

black eunuchs, and the aga of the janissaries, were all in favour of

war against the Czar. The Sultan had decided on it, and the very first

order he gave the Grand Vizir was to go and attack the Russians with

200,000 men. Baltagi had never been in the field, but was no idiot,

as the Swedes, out of pure malice, have represented him to be. When

he received from the Sultan a sabre set with precious stones, “Your

Highness knows,” he said, “that I have been brought up to use an axe

and fell wood, and not to wield a sword, or to command armies. I will

do my best to serve you; but if I fail, remember that I have begged you

not to lay it to my charge.” The Sultan assured him of his favour, and

the Vizir prepared to carry out his orders. The Ottoman Porte’s first

step was to imprison the Russian ambassador in the castle of seven

towers.

It is the custom of the Turks to begin by seizing those ministers

against whom they declare war. Strict observers of hospitality in every

other respect, in this they violate the most sacred of international

laws. They act thus unfairly under the pretext of fairness, persuading

themselves and trying to persuade others that they never undertake

any but a just war, because it is consecrated by the approbation of

their Muphti. Thus they look upon themselves as armed to chastise the

violation of treaties (which they often break themselves), and argue

that the ambassadors of kings at variance with them are to be punished

as accomplices of their masters’ treachery. Besides this, they affect

a ridiculous contempt towards Christian princes and their ambassadors,

whom they regard as only consuls and merchants.

The Kan of Crimean-Tartary had orders to be ready with 400,000 Tartars.

This Prince rules over Nagai, Bulziac, part of Circassia and all the

Crimean district called by the ancients the Tauric Chersonese, whither

the Greeks carried their commerce and their arms, building large cities

there; and whither the Genoese afterwards penetrated, when they were

masters of the trade of Europe.

In this country there are the ruins of Grecian cities, and some Genoese

monuments still subsisting in the midst of desolation and savagery. The

Kan is called Emperor by his own subjects, but in spite of this grand

title he is a mere slave to the Porte. The fact that they have Ottoman

blood in their veins, and the right they have to the Turkish Empire on

the extinction of the race of the Sultan, make their family respected

and their persons formidable even to the Sultan himself: that is why

the Sultan dare not destroy the race of the Kans of Tartary; but he

hardly ever allows them to continue on the throne to an advanced age.

The neighbouring pashas spy on their conduct, their territories are

surrounded by janissaries, their wishes thwarted by the Grand Vizir,

and their designs always suspected. If the Tartars complain of the Kan,

this is an excuse for the Porte to depose him; if he is popular among

them it is regarded as a crime, for which he will be even more readily

punished. Thus all of them leave the throne for exile, and finish their

days at Rhodes, which is generally both their place of exile and their

grave.

The Tartars, their subjects, are the most dishonest folk in the world;

yet, at the same time (inconceivable as it seems), the most hospitable.

They go a fifty leagues’ journey to fall upon a caravan and to destroy

towns, but if any stranger happens to pass through their country, he

is not only received and lodged everywhere, and his expenses paid, but

everywhere the inhabitants strive for the honour of having him as guest.

The master of the house, his wife and daughters vie with one another

in his service. Their ancestors, the Scythians, transmitted to them

this inviolable regard for hospitality; and they still retain it,

because the scarcity of strangers in their country, and the cheapness

of provisions, makes this duty in no way burdensome to them. When the

Tartars go to war with the Ottoman army they are maintained by the

Sultan, but receive no other pay but their booty; this makes them more

ardent at pillage than at regular warfare.

The Kan, bribed by the presents and intrigues of the King of Sweden,

got permission to have the general rendezvous of troops at Bender,

under the King’s eye, that he might realize that the war was being made

for him. The new vizir, Baltagi, not being bound in the same way, would

not flatter a foreign prince so far. He countermanded the order, and

the great army was collected at Adrianople.

The Turkish troops are not so formidable now as they were when

they conquered so many kingdoms in Asia, Africa and Europe. Then

they triumphed over enemies less strong and worse disciplined than

themselves by physical strength, courage and the force of numbers.

But now that Christians understand the art of war better, they seldom

failed to beat the Turks in a drawn battle, even when their forces

are inferior in number. If the Ottoman empire has lately gained some

success, it is only in a contest with the Republic of Venice, reputed

more wise than warlike, defended by strangers, and ill supported by

Christian princes, who are always divided among themselves.

The janissaries and spahis attack in disorder, and are incapable of

action under command, or of a rally; their cavalry, which should be

excellent, considering the good breed and agility of their horses, is

unable to sustain the shock of German cavalry; their infantry were not

yet able to use the fixed bayonet; besides this, the Turks have had no

great general since Couprougli, who conquered Candia. A slave brought

up in the idleness and the silence of the seraglio, made a vizir

through favouritism, and a general against his own inclinations, headed

a raw army, without experience and without discipline, against Russian

troops, with twelve years’ experience in war, and proud of having

conquered the Swedes.

The Czar, according to all appearances, must have vanquished Baltagi,

but he made the same mistake with regard to the Turks as the King of

Sweden was guilty of in his own case; that is, he had too poor an

opinion of his enemy. Upon the news of the Turkish preparations he

left Moscow; and having given orders to change the siege of Riga into

a blockade, he drew up his army of 24,000 men on the Polish frontier.

With this army he marched to Moldavia and Wallachia, formerly the

country of the Daci, but now inhabited by Greek Christians, tributary

to the Sultan.

Moldavia was then governed by Prince Cantemir, a Greek by birth,

who had the talents of the ancient Greeks together with a knowledge

of letters and of arms. He was reputedly descended from the famous

Timur, famous under the name of Tamberlain: this genealogy seemed more

distinguished than a Greek one. They proved it from the name of the

conqueror; Timur, they said, is like Temir: the title Kan, which Timur

had before his conquest of Asia, appears again in the name Cantemir:

thus Prince Cantemir is a descendant of Tamberlain; that is the sort of

basis on which most genealogies are built.

To whatever house Cantemir belonged, he owed all to the Ottoman Porte.

Scarcely had he been invested with his principality than he betrayed

the Emperor his benefactor for the Czar, from whom he had greater

expectations. He believed that the conqueror of Charles XII would

easily triumph over an obscure vizir, with no military experience, who

had appointed as his lieutenant the chief customs officer of Turkey;

he reckoned on all Greece joining his faction, and the Greek priests

encouraged him in his treachery. The Czar made a secret treaty with

him, and having received him into his army, marched up country, and

arrived in June 1711 on the northern side of the river Hierasus, now

Pruth, near Jazy, the capital of Moldavia.

As soon as the Grand Vizir heard that Peter had arrived, he left his

camp at once, and following the course of the Danube, was going to

cross the river on a bridge of boats near Saccia, at the same spot

where Darius had built the bridge that bore his name. The Turkish army

marched so rapidly that they soon came in sight of the Russians, with

the river Pruth between them.

The Czar, sure of the Prince of Moldavia, never expected that the

subjects might fail him; but the Moldavians often oppose their

interests to those of their masters. They liked the Turkish rule,

which is never fatal except to the grandees, and pretends a leniency

to its tributaries; they were afraid of the Christians, especially the

Russians, who had always used them ill.

Those who had undertaken to furnish the Russians with provisions made

with the Grand Vizir the same bargain they had made with the Czar, and

brought all their provisions to the Ottoman army. The Wallachians,

neighbours of the Moldavians, showed the same care for the Turks, for

to such a degree the remembrance of former cruelties had alienated

their minds from the Russians.

The Czar, thus frustrated of his hopes, which he had perhaps indulged

too readily, found his army suddenly destitute of food and without

forage.

In the meantime the Turks crossed the river, cut off the Russians, and

formed an entrenched camp in front of them.

It is strange that the Czar did not dispute the passage of the river,

or at least repair this fault by engaging the Turks at once, instead

of giving them time to tire out his army with fatigue and famine. But

that Prince seems, in this campaign, to have acted in every way for his

own ruin; he was without provisions, with the river Pruth behind him,

and about 4,000 Tartars continually harassing him to right and left. In

these extremities he said publicly, “I am at least in as bad a case as

my brother Charles at Pultawa.”

Count Poniatowski, indefatigable agent to the King of Sweden, was in

the Grand Vizir’s army with some Poles and Swedes, who all thought the

Czar’s ruin inevitable.

As soon as Poniatowski saw that the armies must inevitably meet,

he sent word to the King of Sweden, who, eager for the pleasure of

attacking the Russian Emperor, started that moment from Bender, with

forty officers. After many losses, and several destructive marches,

the Czar was driven back on Pruth, and had no cover left but some

_chevaux de frise_ and some wagons. A party of the janissaries and

spahis fell immediately on his army in that defenceless condition, but

they attacked in disorder, and the Russians defended themselves with an

energy inspired by the presence of their Prince and despair.

The Turks were twice driven back. Next day M. Poniatowski advised

the Grand Vizir to starve out the Russians, for they lacked all

necessaries, and would be obliged to surrender at discretion in one day.

The Czar has since then repeatedly acknowledged that he never felt

anything so acutely as the difficulties of his position that night: he

turned over in his mind all that he had been doing for so many years

for the glory and good of his people, so many great plans, always

interrupted by war, were perhaps about to perish with him, before

having reached completion. He must either die of hunger or attack

nearly 200,000 men with feeble troops, reduced by half from their

original number, a cavalry with scarcely a horse between them, and

infantry worn out by hunger and fatigue.

He called General Czeremetoff at nightfall, and ordered him

peremptorily to have all ready by daybreak for an attack on the Turks

with fixed bayonets.

He gave strict orders also that all baggage should be burned, and that

no officer should keep more than one wagon, so that in case of defeat

the enemy might not have the booty they expected.