CHAP. XVIII.
King Stanislaus quits Alranstadt to appease the troubles in Poland: Charles XII. gives laws to the empire: a courier arrives from Paris: Horatio receives letters which give him great surprize.
Augustus being able to obtain no better conditions from the king of Sweden, than leave to return to his almost ruined electorate, took leave of his conqueror with an almost broken heart.—Intelligence soon after arriving that Poland was half demolished by the violence of different factions, who, in the absence of both their kings, contended with equal fury for the sovereign power, Stanislaus took an affectionate farewell of his dear friend and patron, and went to appease the troubles of that kingdom, and make himself peaceably acknowledged for what he was, their lawful king, not only by election, but by the gift of the conqueror, Charles XII. of Sweden. He was attended by 10,000 Swedish horse, and twice the number of foot, in order to make good his claim against any of his rebellious subjects.
Charles having now accomplished all he could desire in relation to the Polish affairs, began to grow weary of the idle life he led at Alranstadt, and was thinking which way he should turn his arms; he had been used ill by the czar, who, as has been before observed, plotted his destruction while a minor, and began hostilities when he thought him not in a condition to defend himself, much less to make any reprisals: his resentment therefore against him was no less implacable than it had been against Augustus,—But the emperor had also disobliged him. Count Zobor, the chamberlain, had taken very indecent and unbecoming liberties with his character, in the presence of his own Ambassador at Vienna; and that court had given shelter to 1500 Muscovites, who having escaped his arms, fled thither for protection. As he was now so near, he therefore thought best to call the emperor first to account, and then proceed to attack the czar.
To this end he sent to demand count Zobor, and the 1500 Muscovites should be given into his hands: the timid emperor complied with the first and sent his chamberlain to be punished as the king thought fit; but it was not in his power to acquiesce with the other; the Roman envoy, then at Vienna, having intelligence of it, provided for their escape by different routs. The king of Sweden then sent a second mandate, requiring protection for all the Lutherans throughout Germany, particularly in Silesia, and that they should be restored to all the liberties and privileges established by the treaty of Westphalia. The emperor, who would have yielded any thing to get the king of Sweden out of his neighbourhood, granted even this, disobliging as it was to the pope and his own catholic subjects: and having ratified these concessions, the king vouchsafed to let his chamberlain return, without any other punishment than imprisonment, so long as these affairs remained in agitation.
Having thus given laws to Germany and terror to the emperor, he resolved to turn where he might expect more opposition; and accordingly he ordered count Piper to acquaint the officers, that they must now begin to think of preparing for a march.
In the mean time ambassadors from all the courts of Europe were sent to his camp, most of them being apprehensive that they should be the next who felt the terror of his arms: but those who had nothing of this kind to dread, and more really his friends, made use of all the arguments in their power to prevail on him to return to Stockholm. France in particular sent courier after courier, remonstrating to him that his glory was complete; that he had already exceeded Alexander, and should now return covered, as he was, with lawrels, and let his subjects enjoy the blessing of his presence. The court of St. Germains added their entreaties to that of Versailles, but each were equally ineffectual; nor could even the thoughts of the beautiful princess Louisa, his betrothed spouse, and whom he was to marry at the end of this war, put a stop to the vehemence of his impatience to revenge the many injuries he had received from the czar of Muscovy.
These were the sentiments by which this conquering monarch were agitated; but Horatio, tho' no less fond of glory, had a softness in his nature, which made him languish for the sight of his dear Charlotta, whom he had been absent from near two years; and being now blessed with a fortune from the plunder of Saxony, which might countenance his pretensions to her, passionately longed for an opportunity of returning without incurring the censure of cowardice or ingratitude. By these couriers he received letters from the baron de la Valiere, and several others of his friends, but none from the father of Charlotta; nor did any of them make any mention of that lady, tho' he knew the passion he had for her was now no secret to any of them.
He was very much surprized that the baron de Palfoy had not wrote, because as he had in a manner promised to correspond with him by desiring him to write, he had a right to expect that favour when they came to Alranstadt; for till then it was scarce possible, by reason of the army's continual and uncertain motions; but he was much more so, that the baron de la Valiere had not been so good as to give him some information of an affair, of which he could not be insensible his peace so much depended: that he did not do it, he therefore presently concluded, was owing to the having nothing pleasing to acquaint him with.
As love is always apprehensive of the worst that can possibly befal, he thought now of nothing but her being obliged to give her hand to some rival approved by her father:—what avails it, cried he, that fortune has raised me to an equality with her, if, by other means, I am deprived of her!
He was beginning to give way to a despair little befitting a soldier,
when another courier arriving from Versailles with dispatches to the king,
he also received a packet, in which were three letters. The first he cast
his eye upon had on it the characters of Charlotta: amazed and transported
he hastily broke the seal, and found it contained these lines:
To Colonel HORATIO.
SIR,
"I have the permission of my father to pursue
my inclinations, in giving you this testimony
how sincerely I congratulate your good fortune;
tho' I ought not to call it by that name, since I
find every-body allows your rewards have not
exceeded your merits; but as neither has been
found deficient either for your ambition or the
satisfaction of your friends, all who are truly such
think you ought to be content, and run no future
hazards.—Be assured you have many well-wishers
here, among the number of whom you
will be guilty of great injustice not to place
CHARLOTTA DE PALFOY."
How well were all the late anxieties he had endured attoned for by this
billet; it was short indeed, and wrote with a more distant air than he
might have expected, had the dear authoress been at liberty to pursue the
dictates of her heart; but as it informed him it was permitted by her
father, and was doubtless under his inspection, the knowledge that he had
authorized her to write at all, was more flattering to his hopes of
happiness than all she could have said without that Sanction. After having
indulged the raptures this condescention excited, he proceeded to the
rest, and found the next he opened was from the baron de Palfoy, who
expressed himself to him in these terms:
To Colonel HORATIO.
"I think myself obliged to you for so much
exceeding the character I gave you; but I
value myself on knowing mankind, and am glad
to find I was not deceived in you, when I expected
you to do more than I durst venture on
my own opinion to assure the count. He tells me,
in a letter I received from him the last courier,
that the victorious Charles XII. himself cannot
behave with greater bravery in the time of action,
nor more moderation after it is over.—This
is a great praise, indeed, from such a man
as he; and I acquaint you with it not to make
you vain, for that would blemish the lustre of
your other good qualities, but that you may
know how to make proper acknowledgments to
that minister."
"Our court, I know, makes pressing influences
to the king of Sweden not to carry on the way
any farther: I wish they may succeed, or if they
should not, that you might be able to find some
opportunity of quitting the service for reasons
which you will see in a letter that accompanies
this, and to which nothing can be added to convince
you what part you ought to take.—I
shall therefore say no more than that I am, with
a very tender regard,
Yours,
PALFOY"
Rejoiced as he was at receiving a letter from the father of his
mistress, wrote in a manner which he might look upon as a kind of
confirmation he no longer would be refractory to his wishes, the latter
part of it contained an enigma he could by no means comprehend.—It seemed
impossible to him there could be any reasons prevalent enough to make him
quit, with honour, a prince who had so liberally rewarded his service; but
hoping a further explanation, he lost not any time in conjectures; and
tearing open the other letter without giving himself time to examine the
hand in which it was directed, found, to his inexpressible astonishment,
the name of Dorilaus subscribed. It was indeed wrote by that gentleman,
and contained at follows:
Dear Horatio,
"Accidents, which at our parting neither of
us could foresee, have doubtless long since
made you cease to hope any continuance of that
kindness my former behaviour seemed to promise;
but never, perhaps did heaven deal its
blessings with a more mysterious hand than it
has done to you.—That seeming neglect in
me, at a time when you were a prisoner among
strangers, and had most need of my assistance,
had the appearance of the greatest misfortune
could befall you; yet has it been productive of
the greatest good, and laid the foundation of a
happiness which cannot be but lasting.—I reserve
the explanation of this riddle till you arrive
at Paris, where I now am, and intend to
continue my whole life.—That I impatiently
desire to see you, ought to be a sufficient inducement
for you to return with as much expedition
as possible:—I will therefore make this
experiment of that affection, I might add duty,
you owe me, and only give you leave to guess
what recompence this proof of your obedience
will entitle you to.—If therefore the king of
Sweden is resolute to extend his conquests, entreat
his permission to resign: I know the obligations
you have to that excellent prince; but I
know also you have others to me which cannot
be dispensed with:—besides, his majesty's affairs
cannot suffer by the loss of one man: yours
will be in danger, if not totally ruined, by your
continuance with him, and myself deprived at
the same time of the only remaining comfort of
my days.—Your sister left me soon after you
did:—she went to Aix la Chapelle, since
which I have never been able to hear any thing
of her.—Let me not lose you both; if you
have any regard for your own interest, or the
peace of him whom you have ever found a father
in his care and affection, and whom you will
now find so more than you can possibly expect.
DORILAUS."
Impossible is it to conceive, without being in the very circumstances Horatio was, what a strange variety of mingled passions agitated his breast on having to read, and considered these letters:—to find such unhoped condescension from the baron de Palfoy and that Dorilaus was still living, and had the same, if not more tender inclinations for him than ever, the latter of which he had long since ceased to hope, was sufficient to have overwhelmed even the most phlegmatic person with an excess of joy:—but then the dark expressions in both these letters put his brain on the rack.—The baron had seemed to refer to an explanation of what he darkly hinted at in the letter of Dorilaus, but that he found rather more obsolete: he could imagine nothing farther than that Dorilaus having resolved to make him his heir, as he remembered some people said before he left England, on the knowledge of that intelligence the baron de Palfoy had consented to his marriage with mademoiselle Charlotta, and this, her being permitted to write to him confirmed.—This indeed was the supreme aim of his desires; and this it was that made him quit St. Germains, in hope of raising himself to a condition which might enable her to own her affection to him without a blush: but transporting as this idea was, it was mingled with disquiet, to reflect on the terms which both the Baron and Dorilaus seemed to insist on for the accomplishment of his wishes, tho' he impatiently longed to see Dorilaus after so long an absence.—Tho' in the possession of Charlotta all his hopes were centered, yet to leave a prince who had so highly favoured him, and under whose banners he had gained so much consideration, was a piece of ingratitude, which it was worse than death for him to be guilty of.—No! said he, it would be to render me unworthy of all the blessings they make me hope, should I purchase them on such conditions!—How can they demand them of me!—The Baron, Charlotta, and Dorilaus, have all of them the highest notions of honour, generosity and gratitude, and can they approve that in me, which I am certain they would not be guilty of themselves!—Sure it is but to try me, they seem to exact what they are sensible I cannot yield to, without the breach of every thing that can entitle me to esteem or love!
Thus did he argue within himself for one moment; the next, other reasons, directly opposite to these, presented themselves.—Dorilaus, cried he, demands all my obedience;—all my gratitude:—without protection I had been an outcast in the world!—Whatever honours, whatever happiness I enjoy, is it not to him I owe them! Can I refuse then to comply with commands, which, he says, are necessary to his peace!—Besides, was it not Charlotta that inspired this ardor in me for great actions! Was not the possession of that charming maid, the sole end I proposed to myself in all I have undertaken! and shall I, by refusing her request, madly run the risque of losing her for ever!—Does not she wish, her father persuade, and Dorilaus enjoin me to return!—Does not love, friendship, duty call me to partake the joys that each affords!—And shall I refuse the tender invitation!—No! the world cannot condemn me for following motives such as these; and even the royal Charles himself is too generous not to acquit me of ingratitude or cowardice.
It must indeed be confessed he had potent inducements for his return to Paris, to combat against those of continuing in the king of Sweden's service; and both by turns appeared so prevalent, that it is uncertain which would have got the better, had not an accident happened, which unhappily determined him in favour of the latter.
Colonel Poniatosky, who had attended Stanislaus into Poland, now the disturbances of that kingdom were quieted, on hearing the king of Sweden was on some new expedition, obtained leave of Stanislaus to return to the camp, and implored his majesty's permission to be one of those who should partake the glorious toils he was now re-entering into. To which he replied, that he should be glad to have him near his person, but feared he would be wanted in Poland. No, may it please your majesty, resumed Poniatosky, there seems to be no longer any business in that kingdom for a soldier:—all seem ready to obey the royal Stanislaus out of affection to his person, and admiration of those virtues they are now perfectly convinced of; nor is Augustus in a condition to violate the treaty of resignation:—refuse me not therefore I beseech your majesty, continued he, falling upon both his knees, what I look on as my greatest happiness, as it is my greatest glory.
The king seemed very well pleased at the emphasis with which he expressed himself; and having raised him from the posture he was in, be it so, cried he, henceforward we will be inseparable.
Horatio was charmed with this testimony of love and zeal in a person,
who had doubtless friends and kindred who would have been glad he had less
attachment to a service so full of dangers as that of the king of Sweden,
and somewhat ashamed he had ever entertained a thought of quitting it,
resolved, as he had been more obliged, not to shew less gratitude than
Poniatosky. Therefore, without any further deliberation, retired to his
quarters, and prepared the following answers to the letters had been
brought him. As all things in a lover's heart yields to the darling
object, the first he wrote was to his mistress.
To mademoiseile DE PALFOY.
"With what transports I received yours,
adorable Charlotta, I am little able to
express!—To find I am not forgotten!—That
what I have done is approved by her for
whom alone I live, and whose praise alone can
make me vain, so swallowed up all other considerations,
that it had almost made me quit
Alranstadt that moment, and fly to pour beneath
your feet my gratitude and joy!—But
glory, tyrannic glory, would not suffer me to
obey the soft impulse, nor re-enjoy that blessing
till conscious I deserved it better!—My friends
over-rate my services; and tho' that partial indulgence
is the ultimate of my ambition, I would
dare not abuse what they are so good to offer."
"To feast my long, long famished sight with
gazing once more on your charms, I would
forgo every thing but the hope of rendering myself
one day more worthy of it!—Too dear I
prize the good wishes you vouchsafe to have for
me, not to attempt every thing in my power to
prevent the disappointment of them: the little
I have yet done, alas! serves but to prove how
much the man, who has in view rendering himself
acceptable to the divine Charlotta, dares
to do, when dangers worthy of his courage
present themselves.—A small time may, perhaps,
afford me an opportunity:—yet did you
know how dear this self-denial costs me, you
would confess it the greatest proof of affection
ever man gave:—permit me therefore to gratify
an ambition which has no other aim than a
justification of the favours I receive:—continue
to look with a favourable eye on my endeavours,
and they cannot then fail of such success,
as may give me a claim to the glorious.
title of my most adored and loved Charlotta's.
Everlasting Slave,
HORATIO."
To her father he wrote in the following manner:
To the baron DE PALFOY,
My Lord;
"The favours your goodness confers upon
me are such as can be equalled by but one
thing in the world, and that is my just and
grateful sense of them.—Charming would be
the toils of war, did all employed in them meet
a recompence like mine!—Is there a man, so
mean, so poor in spirit, that praises such as I receive
might not animate to actions worthy of
them!—What acknowledgments can I make
the count suitable to the immense obligations I
owe him, for inspiring your lordship with sentiments,
which, tho' the supreme wish of my
aspiring soul, I never durst allow myself to
hope; and which afford a prospect of future
accumulated blessings, such as I could scarce
flatter myself with being real, were not the transporting
idea in some measure confirmed to me,
by your having given a sanction to a correspondence
I so lately despaired of ever obtaining!—Blessed
change!—Extatic condescensions!—Fortune
has done all she can for me, and anticipated
all the good that, after a long train of
services and approved fidelity, I scarce should
have presumed to hope!—Oh my lord! I have
no words to thank you as I ought! It is deeds
alone, and rendering myself worthy of your
indulgence, that must preserve your good opinion,
and keep you from repenting having overwhelmed
me with this profusion of happiness!—Yet
how joyfully could I now pursue the
rout to Paris, and content myself with owing
every thing merely to your goodness, were I
not with-held by all the considerations that
ought to have weight with a man of honour!—My
royal general is inflexible to the persuasions
of almost all the courts in Christendom,
and hurried by his thirst of fame, or some other
more latent motive, has given orders to prepare
for a march, where, or against whom, is yet a
secret to the army; but by the preparations for
it, we believe they are not short journeys we
are to take.—Should I now quit a service
where I have been promoted so much beyond
my merit, what, my lord, but cowardice or ingratitude
could be imputed to me as the motive!
—Not all my reasons, powerful as they are,
would have any weight with a prince, who is
deaf to every thing but the calls of glory; and
I must return loaden with his displeasure, and
the reproaches of all I leave behind!—Now
to return is certain infamy!—To go, is in pursuit
of honour!—Your lordship will not therefore
be surprized I make choice of the latter,
since no hazard can be equal to that of forfeiting
the little reputation I have acquired, and
which alone can render me worthy any part of
the favours I have received.
I am,
With the extremest respect and submission,
Your lordship's
Eternally devoted servant,
HORATIO."
The last and most difficult task he had to go thro', was the refusal he
must give to Dorilaus, who had laid his commands on him in such express
terms; and it was not without a good deal of blotting, altering, and
realtering, he at length formed an epistle to him in these terms:
To my more than father, my only patron,
protector and benefactor, the most worthy
DORILAUS.
Most dear and ever honoured Sir,
"To hear you are living, and still remember
me with kindness, affords too great a
transport to suffer me to throw away any thought
either on the motives of your long silence,
or that happiness, which you tell me, I may
expect has been the produce of it:—it is
sufficient for me to know I am still blessed in
the favor of the most excellent person that
ever lived, and am not in the least anxious for
an explanation of any farther good.
To tell you with how much ardency I long
to throw myself at your feet, to relate to you
all the various accidents that have befallen me
since first you condescended to put me in the
paths of glory, and to pour out my soul before
you with thanksgiving, would be as impossible
as it is for me at present to enjoy that blessing!—The
king's affairs, it is true, would suffer
nothing by my absence; but, sir, what would
the world say of me, if, after a whole year of
inactivity and idleness, I flew, on the first appearance
of danger, and forsook a prince, by
whom I have been so highly favoured?—Instead
of the character I have always been ambitious
of attaining, should I not be branded with
everlasting infamy!—Put not therefore, I beseech
you, to so severe a test that love and duty,
to which you cannot have a greater claim than
I a readiness to pay?—Did you command my
life, it is yours:—I owe it to you, and with it
all that can render it agreeable; but, sir, my
honour, my reputation, must survive when I am
no more; it was the first, and will be the last
bent of my desires. No perils can come in any
degree of competition with those of being deprived
of that, nor any indulgencies of fortune
compensate for the loss of it:—pardon then
this enforced disobedience, and believe it is the
only thing in which I could be guilty of it.—
I very much lament my sister's absence, as I
find by yours she went without your permission:
time and reflection will doubtless bring her to a
more just sense of what she, as well as myself,
ought to have of your goodness to us, and make
her return full of sincere contrition for having
offended you. I should implore your favourable
opinion of her actions in the mean time,
were not all the interest I have in you too little
to apologize for my own behaviour.—All, sir,
I dare to implore is pardon for myself, and that
you will be assured no son, no dependant whatever,
would more rejoice in an opportunity of
testifying his duty, affection, gratitude and submission,
than him who is now constrained by
ties, which I flatter myself you will not hereafter
disapprove, to swerve in some measure
from them, and whose soul and all the faculties
of it are
Entirely devoted to you.
HORATIO."
These dispatches being sent away, he became more composed, and set his whole mind on his departure, and taking leave of those friends and acquaintance he had contracted at Leipsic and Alranstadt; the time of the army marching being fixed in a few days, tho' what rout they were to take none, except count Piper, general Renchild, count Hoorn, and some few others of the cabinet council, were made privy to.
CHAP. XIX.
The king of Sweden leaves Saxony, marches into Lithuania, meets with an instance of Russian brutality, drives the czar out of Grodno, and pursues him to the Borysthenes. Horatio, with others, is taken prisoner by the Russians, and carried to Petersburg, where they suffer the extremest miseries.
The word at length being given, the tents were struck, the trumpets sounded, and the whole army was immediately in motion. Never was a more gay and glorious fight; the splendor of their arms, and the richness of their habits blazed against the sun; but what was yet more pleasing, and spread greater terror among their enemies, was the chearfulness that sat on every face, and shewed they followed with the utmost alacrity their beloved and victorious monarch.
It was in the latter end of September, a season extremely cold in those parts, that they began their march but hardships were natural to the king of Sweden's troops; and as they perceived they were going into Lithuania, a place where their valour had been so well proved against the invading Muscovites, their cheeks glowed with a fresher red on the remembrance of their former victories. They passed near Dresden, the capital of the electorate of Saxony, and made Augustus tremble in his palace, tho' the word of the king, which ever was inviolable, had been given that he should enjoy those dominions in peace.
During the course of this, the czar had fallen upon the frontiers of Poland above twenty times, not like a general, desiring to come to a decisive battle, but like a robber, plundering, ravaging, and destroying the defenceless country people, and immediately flying on the approach of any troops either of Charles XII or king Stanislaus. The Swedes in their march met several parties sent on these expeditions, but who retired on sight of the army into woods, and were most of them either killed or taken prisoners by detachments sent in pursuit of them by the king of Sweden.
In their march towards Grodno they found the remains of an encampment, several pieces of cannon and ammunition of all forts, but not one creature to guard it, the troops to whom it belonged having all dispersed and hid themselves. On examining the tents, they were surprized with the sight of a very beautiful woman, who was lying on the ground in one of them, with three others, who seemed endeavouring to comfort her, and, by the respect they paid her, that they were her dependents; but had all of them their garments torn and bloody, their hair hanging in strange disorder about their ears, their flesh discoloured with bruises and other marks of violence, and, as well as their disconsolate superior, were spectacles of the utmost distress.
The king of Sweden himself, followed by general Hoorn, Poniatolky, Horatio, and several others, who hardly ever lost sight of him, came into this tent, and, being touched with so moving a scene, demanded the Occasion; on which the prostrate lady being told who it was that spoke, started suddenly up, and throwing herself at his feet:—Oh king! cried she in the German language, as famous for justice as for being invincible in war, revenge the cause of helpless innocence and virtue!—Oh let the murderous brutal Russians find heaven's vindictive arm in you its great vicegerent.—She was able to utter no more: the inward agonies she sustained, on being about to relate the story of her wrongs, became too violent for speech, and she sunk motionless on the earth. Two of the women, assisted by some Swedes, carried her out of the tent, as thinking the open air most proper to revive her; and she who remained, satisfied the king's curiosity in these words:
May it please your majesty, said she, my mistress, that afflicted lady who just now implored your royal pity, is of the noble family of the Casselburgh, in Saxony, only daughter to the present count: her person, before these heavy misfortunes fell upon her, was deservedly reputed one of the most beautiful that graced the court of Dresden: her birth, her youth, her charms, and the great fortune it was expected she would be mistress of, attracted a great number of persons who addressed her for marriage: her own inclinations, as well as the count her father's commands, disposed of her to Emmermusky, a Polish nobleman; and she had been scarce one month a bride, before they unhappily took this journey to visit my lord's mother who lives at Travenstadt.—In our way we met a party of straggling Muscovites, who, notwithstanding the strict league between our elector and the czar, and the knowledge they had by our passports that we were Saxons, stripped us of every thing, killed all our men-servants and having given my lord several wounds, left him for dead upon the place, then dragged us miserable women to the camp.—My lady, in the midst of faintings, and when she was incapable even of flying to death for refuse, was brutally ravished, and we her wretched attendants suffered the same abuse.—Shame will not let me, continued she, blushing and weeping, acquaint your majesty with the shocking and repeated violations we were compelled to bear!—the wretches casting lots who first should gratify his monstrous desires!—We were all bound to trees, and without any means of opposition but our shrieks and cries to unrelenting heaven!—My lord having a little recovered himself, had crawled, as well as his wounds would give him leave, after us, and arrived even while the horrid scene was acting: rage giving him new strength and spirits; he snatched a sword that lay upon the earth, and sent to perdition the villain who was about to add to the dishonour which had been, alas! but too much completed by others. The death of their companion incensing the accursed Muscovites, they turned upon him, and in a moment laid him dead just at the feet of his ruined and almost expiring wife! After having satiated their wicked will, they left us, bound as we were, where we continued the remainder of the day and whole night, and had doubtless perished thro' hunger and extreme cold, if a second party had not passed that way, who having been out on a maroding, were then returning to the camp.—Being actuated by somewhat more compassion than the former, one of the officers made us be untied, and having heard our story, blamed the cruelty with which we had been treated, and brought us to his tent, the same we now are in, and ordered something should be given for our refreshment; but my lady has continued obstinate to dye, and to that end has refused all subsistence. This, oh invincible monarch! is the sad history of our misfortunes:—misfortunes, which, alas! can never be retrieved, nor admit any consolation but in the hope of vengeance!
Here a torrent of tears closed the sad narration; and the king cried out, turning as he spoke to us that followed him,—It is the cause of heaven and earth, my friends, said he, to punish these barbarians, and shew them that there is a God; for sure at present they are ignorant of it!
The generous monarch after this gave orders that these afflicted and abused woman should be escorted to a place of safety, and for that purpose halted for the space of two days, then proceeded towards Grodno with such expedition, that after-ages will look upon it as incredible that so large an army, and also encumbered with a great quantity of baggage, could have marched in the time they did.
But the king of Sweden was on fire to encounter in person the czar of Muscovy, who, with about 2000 men, was then in that city: so great was his impatience, that he galloped before his troops, not above 600 of those best mounted being able to keep pace with him, till he came in sight of the south gate, which gave him entrance without any opposition, while the czar and his forces made their escape out at the north gate, not doubting but the king of Sweden's whole army were come up with him.
He was afterward so much vexed and ashamed to think he had quitted the town to no more than 600 of the enemy, that, to retrieve a mistake which he feared might be looked upon as cowardice, being informed the body, of the army was near five leagues off, he sent a party of 1500 horse in order to surprize the king and his few guards. The Muscovites entered by night; but the alarm being given, the fortune which still had waited on the Swedish armies, immediately put them all to the rout; and the army soon after arriving, the conqueror lost no time, but pursued those that remained alive into the forest of Mensky, on the other side of which the czar had then entrenched himself, and had made the general rendezvous of the Russian army, which was continually divided into parties; and sometimes falling on the Swedes in the rear, and sometimes in the flank, very much annoyed them in their march: these brave men had also other difficulties to encounter with; the forest was so extremely thick, that the infantry were obliged to fell down trees every moment, during the whole time of their passage, to make way for the baggage and troops.
Their industry and vigour surmounting all these obstacles, they once more found themselves in an open country, but on the banks of a river, on the opposite side of which were 20,000 Muscovites placed to oppose their crossing. The king made no delay, but quitting his horse, threw himself into the river, and was instantly followed by all the foot, while the troops under the command of general Renchild and Hoorn, galloped round thro' the morrass in which that river ended, and both together charged the enemy, who, after some faint shew of resistance, fled with the utmost precipitation. The whole army being now joined marched on toward the Boristhenes, but with fatigues which are impossible to be described: Horatio kept still close to the king, and whether he fought or marched, was on foot or on horsback, was always in his fight ready to bear his commands to the generals, or assist him in the time of danger. More than once had the conqueror been indebted to this young warrior, for turning the point of the destructive sword from giving him the same death he was dealing about to others; yet in all the dangers he had been in never had he received one wound, and this often made the king say, who was a firm believer in predestination, that heaven designed him for a soldier: his fortune, his valour, his activity, added to his obliging and modest behaviour, indeed rendered him so dear to his royal master, that there were very few, if any, to whom he gave greater marks of his favour. And had Dorilaus, or even Charlotta herself, all tender as she was, and trembling for the hazards she knew he had been exposed to, seen him thus caressed and honoured by the most glorious prince and greatest hero in the world, they could scarce have wished him to quit the post he was in, much less persuaded him to do it.
He hitherto indeed had experienced only the happiness of a martial life, for the fatigues, hardships, and dangers of it he as little regarded as the intrepid and indefatigable prince he served; but now arrived the time which was to inflict on him the worst miseries of it, and make him almost curse a vocation he had been in his soul so much attached to.
The king of Sweden, with his usual success having passed the Boristhenes, encountered a party of 10,000 Muscovites and 6000 Calmuck Tartars; but they gave way on the first onset and fled into a wood, where the king, following the dictates of his great courage more than prudence, pursuing them, fell into an ambuscade, which, throwing themselves between him and three regiments of horse that were with him, hem'd him in, and now began a very unequal fight.—Many of the gallant Swedes were cut to pieces, and the Muscovites made quite up to his majesty:—two aid-de-camps were killed within his presence, his own horse was shot under him, and as an equerry was presenting him with another, both horse and man was struck dead in the same moment.—Horatio immediately alighted in order to mount the king, who now on foot behaved with incredible valour, in that action was surrounded and taken prisoner, as were several others that had fought near his person. He had the satisfaction, however, while they were disarming and tying his hands, to see colonel Dardoff with his regiment force thro' the Calmucks, and arrive timely enough to disengage the king, after which the army recovering its rank, and pouring in upon the enemy, he was not without hopes of regaining his liberty; but he was sat upon a horse and bound fast to the saddle, and compelled, with the others that were taken with him, to accompany the Muscovites in their flight, so was ignorant in what manner this re-encounter ended. Soon after repairing to the czar's quarters, these unfortunate officers of the king of Sweden were, with some others who had before become their prize, sent under a strong guard to Petersburgh, and thrown altogether into a miserable dungeon.
It would be impossible to describe the horrors of this place:—light there was, but it was only so much as just served to shew to each of these unhappy sufferers the common calamity of them all.—The roof was arched indeed, but so low, that the shortest among them could scarce stand upright:—no kind of furniture, not even straw to cover the damp earthen floor, which served them for a seat by day and bed at night. Inured as they had been to hardships, the noisomeness of this dreadful vault killed many of them, and among the rest a young Swedish officer named Gullinstern, one with whom Horatio had contracted a very intimate friendship, and who, for his many excellent qualities, had been so dear to the king, that seeing him one day greatly wounded, and in danger of being taker, prisoner, that generous prince obliged him to mount on his own horse, and fought on foot himself till another could be brought.
The light of this gentleman expiring in his arms, filled Horatio with so poignant an anguish, that he wanted but little of following him; and, indeed, had it not been for the sanguine hopes that the king would in a short time complete the ruin of the czar, and not only restore them liberty, but also add vengeance to it for the ill treatment they had found in his dominions, few, if any of them, had been able to support the miseries inflicted on them by these inhuman wretches, who, not content with burying them in a manner alive, for the dungeon they were in was deep underground, and allowing them no other food than bread and water once in four and twenty hours, made savage sport at their condition, ridiculed the conquests of their king, and spoke in the most opprobrious terms of his royal person, which, when some of them were unable to restrain themselves from answering in a manner befitting their duty and love of justice, they were silenced by the most cruel stripes.
Thus were the officers of the king of Sweden, the meanest of whom were fit to be generals in any other army, subjected to the servile taunts, and insolent behaviour of wretches undeserving to be ranked among the human species.
A very little time had doubtless made them all find graves among these barbarians; scarce a day passed over without their company decreasing by two or three, who were no sooner dead than dragged out by the heels, and thrown like dogs into a pit without the least funeral rites. But providence at length thought fit to send them a relief by means they least expected.
In one of the incursions made by the Muscovites into Poland, a very beautiful lady, whose father had been killed in asserting the cause of Stanislaus, was made prisoner: prince Menzikoff, who commanded these batallions, saw her, and became enamoured of her charms: she was destitute of all friends, and in the conqueror's power, so thought it best to yield what otherwise she found him determined to seize: in fine, she was his mistress; and her ready compliance with his desires, together with the love she either had or feigned to have for him, afterward gained her an absolute ascendant over him. Every one knows the interest he had with the czar; and he so far exerted it, as to get this fair favourite lodged in the palace, where she was served with the same state and respect as if she had been his wife.
This lady, whose name was Edella, happened to be walking with some of her attendants near where these unfortunate gentlemen were buried, at a time when three of them were dragged to their wretched sepulchre, was touched with compassion to see any thing that had a human shape thus coarsely treated, tho' after death, and had the curiosity to order one of her people to enquire who those persons were, and what they had done, which hindered them from being allowed a christian burial.
She was no sooner informed that they were Swedish prisoners, than her soul shuddered at the thoughts of the Russian barbarity; and not doubting but their usage during life had been of a piece with that after their death, she resolved, if possible, to procure some abatement of the miseries of those who yet survived.
To this end she made it her business to examine what number of prisoners had been brought, of what condition they were, and where lodged; and being well acquainted with all she wanted to know, went to the governor of Petersburg, and so well represented how dishonourable it was to the czar, and how opposite to the law of nations, to treat prisoners of war in a worse manner than they would do condemned felons, that he knowing the power of prince Menzikoff, and fearing to disoblige one so dear to him by a refusal, consented they should be removed into an upper part of the prison where they would have more air, and also that they should have an allowance of meat every day.
As the governor was a true Muscovite in his nature and had an implacable hatred to the king of Sweden and all that belonged to him, this was gaining a great deal; but it was not enough to satisfy the charitable disposition of Edella; after their removal, she went in person to visit those of them whom she heard were gentlemen, and finding them covered only with rags, which some of the soldiers had put on them after having stripped them of their own rich habits, she ordered others lined with furs to be made for them, to defend them from the coldness of the season; and not content to retrench a great part of her own table, sold several fine jewels, and other trinkets the prince had bestowed on her, to supply them with wine, and whatever necessaries she supposed them to be accustomed to. That she might be certain those entrusted by her did not abuse her good intentions, she went often to the prison herself to see how they were served, and would sometimes enter into discourse with them concerning the battles they had been in, the settlement of Stanislaus, and many other things relating to the Polish affairs. The gallant and courtly manner in which Horatio expressed himself on every occasion, made her take a particular pleasure in hearing him speak: that rough blunt behaviour to which she had been accustomed since her being brought a captive into Muscovy, gave double charms to the politeness with which she found herself entertained by our young warrior; his blooming years, and the gracefulness of his person, contributed not a little also towards rendering every thing he said more agreeable. Her liking of him grew by degrees into a friendship, no less tender than that one feels for very near relations, and who have never done any thing to disoblige us, are more endeared by being under undeserved calamity: but as the inclination she had for him was perfectly innocent, and no ways prejudicial to the prince who was in possession of her person, she made no secret of it either to himself or those she conversed with, and was always talking of the wit, delicacy, and handsomeness of one of those prisoners, whom it was well known were pensioners to her bounty. But how dangerous is it to be too open before persons who, void of all true generosity, or the lead principle of honour themselves, never fail to put the worst construction on the actions of others. Edella was very near being undone by her sincerity in acknowledging the distinction she paid to merit, or the compassion she felt for misfortunes, in a country where humanity to enemies is looked upon as a crime, friendship to those of the same party altogether unknown, and even common civility never practised but for the gratification of self-interest, or some favourite passion.
This beautiful Polander however being treated by the Muscovites, on account of the influence she had over the prince Menzikoff, with as much complaisance as it was in their power to shew, imagined their disposition less savage than it was in reality; and when she testified the pity she had for those unhappy gentlemen, it was with design to excite it in others, and engage them to join with her in petitioning the czar, at his return, for their enlargement, there being no cartel or exchange of prisoners subsisting between him and the king of Sweden.
Among the number she hoped to gain to her party was Mattakesa, the relique of a general who had been in great favour with his prince. This lady, who could speak French, having learned it of a recusant that took shelter in Russia, consented to go with her one day to the prison, and no sooner saw Horatio, than, unfortunately for him, Edella, and herself, she became charmed with him: as she was of the number of those who think nothing a crime that suits their own inclination, she took not the least pains to subdue the growing passion, but rather indulged it, in order to receive the highest degree of pleasure in the gratification. She doubted not but Edella was her rival, and that it was for his sake alone she had been so beneficent to his fellow-sufferers: to supplant her, therefore, was the first step she had to take, and she resolved to omit nothing for that purpose.