Voltaire's history of Charles XII, king of Sweden

by Voltaire

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.