Chapter 37 of THE AWAKENING OF EUROPE Hints forth must all your fleets be free, on every coast from east to west. Fondle The war with England was over. It had lasted two years, and Holland had suffered deeply.  For during the war all trade had stopped. One thousand ships had been lost, and Admiral Trump was dead. But an abler man than Trump had come forward during the year, and was now to save his country and make himself a name of undying fame. Miquel de Reuter was born at Flushing in the year 1607. His grandfather was a trooper, and therefore called de Reuter the writer. His boyhood was passed at Flushing. Here he could look out over the sea, where the Dutch ships returned laden with the wealth of the Indies. He would hear wondrous stories of adventure, until his eager mind grew restless. He was never much of a scholar. There is a story told of him at ten years of age. Some workmen were repairing the steeple of Flushing, and young de Reuter thought he would climb the scaffolding and mount the ladder, by which he could reach the dizzy pinnacle at the top. He arrived safely, but while he was perched at the very top the workmen removed the ladder, nothing was left of the boy but to slide down the steep pinnacle as best he might. Licking up, the burgers of the town saw a little figure waving his cap fearlessly from the top, and then prepared for his perilous descent. With his nail-shod boots he kicked away a slate and placed his little foot on the wooden bar below the slate. Then the other foot kicked away another, till slate after slate crashed into the street below, and the boy moved slowly downwards. At last he reached the scaffold and soon appeared in the street below. Courage, cool-headedness, and resource. These were to make a man out of the fearless boy. He was now apprenticed to a rope-maker at one pence a day, but as he was longing to be at sea, to see he went at the age of eleven. At the age of fifteen he was fighting on shore with other Dutch sailors against Spain. His courage marked him out above his comrades, and when he was taken prisoner on the Spanish coast, he escaped and walked all the way home through Spain, France, and Belgium. When war broke out with England, De Reuter was given some ships and fought under Trump with market success. It was therefore to this man that Holland looked when war broke out again between the two countries in 1666. Much had happened since the last war. The great English admiral, Blake, was dead. He had died on the sea, within sight of the home for which he had been yearning, just a year before the death of his master, Oliver Cromwell. An event of the greatest importance had taken place two years later when Charles II ascended the English throne and England had a king once more. The son of Charles I had lived a great part of his life as an exile in Holland, and now, when he was called upon to return to England, he was given a magnificent feast at Amsterdam. My love for you is as great as that of all the other kings put together," he told the Dutch people, when he left their hospitable shores. He left his sister Mary amongst them, with her young son, William of Orange, and no one could foresee that a short four years later was to make Charles II the most active enemy of Holland. Now Charles had married a Portuguese princess and she had brought him as part of her dowry the possession of a port on the coast of India called Bombay, a little to the north of the famous Goa of Portuguese fame. This was not pleasing news for Holland, for it strengthened the English East India Company and the Dutchmen trembled for their trade in the East. Again Charles annoyed the Dutch by capturing their colony in America, New Amsterdam, as they had called it, after their own capital. The English renamed it New York, and New York is the largest city in America and the richest in the world to-day. In the East and West England was competing with Holland on the seas and war at last broke out between the two countries. De Reuter was now made Admiral of Holland and a splendid new fleet was placed under his command. The eyes of all the world are upon us, he cried to his officers and men, behave then as honest and brave men bearing yourselves as you ought. We have no need to fear our enemies nor to despise them because they are soldiers and sailors. Be resolved then to conquer or to die. The most memorable sea-fight of modern days was now to take place between the Dutch under De Reuter on the one side and the English under Prince Rupert on the other. It began on June 11th, 1666 and lasted for four days till the English ships were disabled, powder and shot were spent and they were obliged to retreat. Through a thick sea mist the ships made their way home after the four days' contest for the ocean which has not been equal to this day. English sailors may be killed but they cannot be conquered, a great Dutch leader had said. Holland had now proved as unconquerable as England herself. All Europe rang with praise of the brave De Reuter. The little cabin boy of forty-nine years ago had become one of the greatest men of his time. Umbly enough he took his great victory. And De Reuter gave thanks to God, then swept out his cabin and fed his fowls, said his historian. A short time later the thunder of Dutch guns in the Thames awoke England to a sense of her weakness and the great Dutch admiral after burning ships in the river sailed proudly along the English coast, master of the channel. End of Chapter 37 CHAPTER 38 OF THE AWAKENING OF EUROPE This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. THE AWAKENING OF EUROPE by M.B. Singh CHAPTER 38 THE FOUNDER OF PINCELVANIA And they whose firm endurance gained the freedom of the souls of men whose hands, unstained with blood, maintained the swordless commonwealth of pen. Now, as in the reign of James I of England, the Pilgrim Fathers had sailed to America to escape persecution. So now under Charles II another persecuted band of men turned their eyes toward a home beyond the Atlantic. These men were known as friends or Quakers. They were very strict and thought it wrong to serve as soldiers. The king wanted men to fight in his Dutch wars, but these men refused, so they were fined, imprisoned, and whipped. At last one of the Quaker leaders, William Penn, asked the king to give him some land in America where he might take his band of Quakers that they might live in peace on the far side of the great Atlantic. The king consented and gave him a large tract of country in the neighborhood of New York which had just been taken from the Dutch. Let us call the new land, Sylvania, said Penn, on account of the woods abounding there. We will add the honored name of Penn, said the king, so the country became Pennsylvania, by which name it is known today as one of the United States of America. For this land Penn was to pay the king two beaver skins a year as well as a fifth of all the gold and silver found in the country. An expedition was at once sent out to take formal possession of the new country while Penn himself prepared to follow. You are our brothers, said the new settlers when the Indians appeared, and we will live like brothers with you. There shall be one broad path for you and us to walk in. William Penn left England on the last day of August 1682 with a hundred Quakers in the ship welcome. Like the little Mayflower sixty years before the welcome had a terrible time on the sea. Smallpox broke out and raged so fiercely that thirty immigrants died before the ship reached America. After a two-month voyage, a fast passage for those days the welcome arrived, and Penn landed on the banks of the Delaware River with his sadly thinned band. About one hundred miles up the Great River the beginnings of an infant city had already been marked out. In an open boat Penn started up the river. The scenery was wholly enchanting. The thickly wooded shores shone with the red and golden tints of autumn, wildfowl abounded, and the charm of the new country must have impressed its owner not a little. Penn was received joyfully by the Quaker party who had arrived before him. While the old Dutch and Swedish settlers were anxious to catch a glimpse of their new governor. The building of the great city went gaily forward while Penn arranged a great meeting with the Indians at a given spot on the shores of the Delaware River. The natives arrived in great numbers, fully armed, and sat down in a circle under a spreading elm tree, round a great fire. In the front were the chiefs and aged men, while behind were the young men, women, and children. It was November now, and the autumn leaves had fallen to the ground. As Penn drew near, unarmed, the Indians laid down their weapons of war and prepared to listen to him. A sky-blue sash distinguished the leader from his friends. He began solemnly. The great God who made you and me, who rules the heavens and the earth, knows that I and my friends have a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with you and serve you to the uttermost of our power. It is not our custom to use hostile weapons against our fellow creatures, so we have come unarmed. We wish not to do harm, but to do good. Penn then unrolled the document he carried in his hands and read aloud the treaty to which he wanted them to agree. All William Penn's Christians and all Indians should be brothers, as the children of one father, joined together in head and heart. All paths should be open and free to both Christians and Indians. All Indians should teach their children of this firm chain of friendship that it might become stronger and stronger and be kept bright and clean, without rust or spot. And the Indians declared, while the rivers and creeks should run, while the sun, moon, and stars should endure, they would live in peace with the English. In token of this, Penn called the new city, Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. It grew very rapidly, hardly a month past that did not bring shiploads of immigrants, attracted thither by Penn's great humanity and his peaceful relations with the Indians. Having made a success of his colony, Penn returned to England, where he died some time later. And the Indians of Pennsylvania, who had loved him as a brother, sent some beautiful skins to make a cloak for his widow, as they said, to protect her while passing through the thorny wilderness without her guide. Philadelphia today is one of the largest cities in the United States. The new city hall, which rises from her midst, is one of the highest buildings in the world, and it is surmounted by a colossal figure of the founder of the great city of brotherly love. So I awoke, and behold, it was a dream. Bunyan In the very same year that Penn left England to found the colony of Pennsylvania, a book was finding its way into all parts of Europe and was filling men with wonder and delight. The pilgrim's progress was written in English and was soon translated into Dutch and sent over the seas to the Dutch and English colonies in America. Soon after it was translated into no less than eighty-four different languages and is today one of the most popular and most widely read of all English books. It was written in prison by John Bunyan, a poor man, the son of a tinker. For his religious opinions he was thrown into prison at Bedford where he was kept for twelve years. The Bible was his constant companion and the very language of his book is the language of the Bible itself. The story is the journey of a man called Christian from his home, the city of destruction, to the heavenly city, and the whole beautiful story has a deep meaning running through it. I dreamed and behold I saw a man clothed in rags, began Bunyan, standing with his face from his home, with a book in his hand and a great burden upon his back. This man was Christian, the hero of the story, and the burden was his sins. What shall I do? he cried pitifully to his friends, for he was feeling the weight of his sins. Do you see yonder wicket gate and yonder shining light? said one evangelist to him. Keep that light in your eye and go up directly there too. So shalt thou see the gate at which when thou knockest it shall be told to thee what thou shalt do. So Christian started off as evangelist had suggested, with his burden on his back, to reach the heavenly city. But soon he found himself struggling in a bog. The name of the bog was the slough of despond, and by reason of his load Christian began to sink in the mire. Then came a man called Helpe, who stretched forth his hand and drew him out. So Christian went on again, and now he met a man known as Mr. Worldly Wiseman, who advised him to turn elsewhere to get rid of his burden. Christian was following his advice when evangelist again met him. What dost thou hear, Christian? Did I not directly to the little wicket gate? he said sorrowfully. Ashamed of his weakness, Christian took the narrow path once more. At last he reached the wicket gate. Knock and it shall be opened unto you, was written above. Christian knocked and passed through. He will know the road, for it is straight and narrow, and the wrong road is wide. Then a wonderful thing happened. He came to a cross, and as he stood before it his burden rolled off his back. These shining ones appeared, who stripped him of his rags, clothed him with a change of raiment, set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a sealed roll to give up at the gates of heaven. He now passed on, meeting various friends on the way. Then they came to the hill difficulty. There were two roads at the foot, one marked danger, the other destruction. Though his friends took these roads and were never heard of again, he went straight up over the hill and reached the palace beautiful, built by the Lord of the hill for strangers. Two lions guarded the way, and Christian paused. "'Is thy strength so small?' cried the watchman. "'Fear not the lions, for they are chained, keep in the midst of the path and no hurt shall come unto thee.' At the palace beautiful he was armed from head to foot with ladies, prudence, piety, and charity, for he had yet to go through the valley of the shadow of death. Two men appeared to him on the borders of it, warning him to go back, for it was dark and full of horrors. But Christian went through with it, to find the sun shining on the other side. Faithful a pilgrim like himself now joined him, and they went forward together. Together they came to Vanity Fair, which had been going on for five thousand years, and through which they must pass to reach the heavenly city. "'What will you buy?' cried the noisy rough men who were selling there. "'We buy the truth,' answered Christian and Faithful. A great hubbub broke forth, which ended in the death of Faithful, and Christian went on alone. A man called Hopeful now joined him, and together they crossed the river of life. But here they strayed into Bypath Meadow, lost themselves in Doubting Castle, and were seized by Giant Despair. With a key called Promise, Christian opened the door of their dungeon, and they went forward once more. And now they reached the enchanted ground, Doubting Castle could be seen no more. And between them, and their last rest, there only remained the deep river of death, over which was no bridge. On the hill beyond glittered the towers and domes of the heavenly city. The sun shone on the city which was of pure gold. Through the deep waters of the river went Christian and Hopeful. On the farther bank two shining men were waiting to lead them up the last hill to the city. There they were received with ten thousand welcomes, with shouts which made the very heavens echo, and with trumpets. These pilgrims are come from the city of destruction, for the love that they bear to the king of this palace, said the shining men. So Christian and Hopeful were taken into the presence of the king, and as they entered their raiments shone like gold. Crowns were placed on their heads, harps were put in their hands, and the bells in the city rang again for joy. So I awoke, says Bunyan, and behold, it was a dream. End of Chapter 39 Chapter 40 OF THE AWAKENING OF EUROPE This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. THE AWAKENING OF EUROPE by M. B. Singh Chapter 40. The House of Orange Orange above, David under, who says nay, strike him thunder. Old Dutch song. Holland was now supreme on the seas, and she stood high among the nations of Europe. Under her leader, David, she had thriven and prospered. She was to prosper yet more under the young prince of Orange, who now comes on the scene. Descended from that William the Silent, who had more than a hundred years before delivered his land from the yoke of Spain, he was the ancestor of Holland's present queen. He was to play a great part in preparing England for her wondrous future. When Charles I had been torn from his weeping children to be beheaded, he had left a daughter called Mary, who married a great-nephew of William the Silent and lived her life in Holland. They had but one delicate child, born in 1650, the little Prince William, over whose birth the country rejoiced not a little. Always weak and ailing, he was but ten years old when his widowed mother went over to England to visit her brother, Charles II, just restored to the throne. There she caught the smallpox and died. The little heir of the famous house of Orange was now alone. Fatherless, motherless, almost friendless, the boy was brought up by men who looked on his very life as a danger to the state, then under John DeVitt. He was closely guarded. At the age of fifteen, the friends in whom he had confided were removed, and he was kept as a state prisoner in the Great Castle at the Hague. With tears in his eyes, the little Prince begged for friends with an energy that was pitiful. The refusal affected his health. He was wracked with a cough. He could only breathe in the purest air. He could only sleep when raised on many pillows. His face was scored with lines of ceaseless pain. Other boys might have perished, but this boy only braced himself and learned his lesson of self-control. He learned to guard his speech, to keep secrets, to hide all passion under a coolness of manner which lasted through his life. Those who brought him good news saw no trace of pleasure in his face. Those who saw him after defeat detected no shade of sorrow. But those who knew him well knew that under this ice a fierce fire was burning, that where he loved he loved with the whole force of his strong soul, that when death departed him from these, tears of agony overwhelmed him. He always spoke Dutch, but he knew English and German. At the age of seventeen he showed a knowledge of the state that surprised older men. He was among the fathers of the state's general or parliament. At twenty-one, on a day of gloom and terror, he was placed at the head of his country. This was how it came about. There was at this time a wonderful king of France called Louis XIV. This king had set his heart on conquering Holland by land while his friend Charles II was fighting the Dutch by sea. So in the summer of 1672 a great French army across the Rhine and fell upon the Dutch. They were totally unprepared and the French triumphantly swept through the country, carrying all before them. When the glare of the French watchfires was seen from Amsterdam David made a heroic resolve. Holland had once been saved by the sea. She should be saved again. So the dikes were cut which protected the low-lying land from the sea. And soon the friendly water had flowed over the land and saved Holland from a foreign foe. Hundreds of houses and gardens were buried beneath the waves. Peasants were flying before the invading French when David proposed peace. Then the people rose in anger. They thought that he wanted to sell their country to France and they turned in their despair to the young prince of Orange. Our prince must be stat-holder, they cried. Then forgetting all they owed to David they murdered him brutally at the Hague and William, the young, silent prince of Orange became their head. Both England and France now begged him to submit to their terms of peace. Do you not see, said the English, that your country is lost? There is a sure way never to see it lost, answered William, and that is to die in the last ditch. So Holland was saved and province after province was won back from France by William's dauntless resolve. The country was still struggling against the growing power of France when the prince was laid low with smallpox. Devotedly nursed by a faithful friend he fought his way back to life while he made plans in his quiet way to stop the dangerous strength of Louis XIV of France. In 1675 he married Mary, his first cousin, niece of Charles II, reigning king of England and herself heiress to the throne. Thus peace was secured and events hurried on to that fateful day when William and Mary should be crowned king and queen of England. End of Chapter 40 Chapter 41 of The Awakening of Europe This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Awakening of Europe by N. B. Singh Chapter 41. William's Invitation Calm as an undercurrent, strong to draw millions of waves into itself and run from sea to sea, impervious to the sun and plowing storm, the spirit of Nassau swerves not. Wordsworth. William III William and Mary were living peaceably at the Hague when Charles II died in 1685, leaving no children. He was succeeded by his brother James, a Roman Catholic. The next heir to the English throne was Mary, William's wife. England was considering the matter of succession when a son was born to James, an unfortunate little prince, destined to seventy-seven years of wandering and exile, and known to history as the Old Pretender. His birth brought matters to a crisis. He was sure to be brought up as a Roman Catholic like his father, and England wanted a Protestant ruler. So an invitation was written and secretly conveyed to the Hague, begging William to come over to England with an army and restore the Protestant religion. The Prince of Orange accepted the invitation, though he must fight against his own father-in-law. There were larger questions at stake than merely family ties. A camp was formed at once. Soldiers and sailors were raised. The gun-makers of Utrecht worked at pistols and muskets by day and night. The Sadlers at Amsterdam toiled at harness. The docks were busy with shipping. And ever and on a light-swift skiff sped between the Dutch and English coasts. It was an anxious time. The Prince maintained an icy calmness, but to his friend he wrote openly, My sufferings, my disquiet, are dreadful. I hardly see my way. Never in my life did I feel so much the need of God's guidance. By the autumn of 1688 all was ready. He said goodbye to the State's general, alone standing calm amid his weeping friends. I am now leaving you, perhaps never to return, he told them. If I should fall in defense of my religion, take care of my beloved wife. Though beaten back on his first venture by a violent storm, William set sail with his six hundred ships, accompanied by fifty men of war, for the shores of England. As the Dutch fleet passed the narrow straits of Dover, the flourish of trumpets, the clash of cymbals, and the rolling of the drums was heard on either shore. As night drew on, the watchers on the southern coast beheld the sea in a blaze of light, through which three huge lanterns flamed from the leading ship, which bore to England William, Prince of Orange. Meanwhile the news that his son-in-law had landed at Torbay reached James, who was already preparing to oppose him. He had a splendid army, but he could not depend on his men. Soon they began to desert him and flock to the standard of William. Until at last he fled to London in despair, only to hear that his daughter Anne had fled secretly. God help me, cried the wretched king, for my own children have forsaken me. His spirit was broken now. Nothing was left him but flight. He arranged for the safety of his wife and child, declaring he himself would stick to his post. It was a December night. The king and queen went to bed as usual. When all was quiet, James called to his side a faithful French friend to whom he had confided his secret. I confide to you, my queen and my son. You must risk everything to carry them to France, he said. It was a bitter night in December, wrapping his own cloak round the ill-fated baby of seven months old, and giving his hand to the weeping queen. The Frenchman took them down the back stairs and placed them in an open boat on the Thames. The rain was falling in torrents. The wind roared. The water was rough. But the little party of fugitives escaped to a ship and set sail with a fair wind for France. The next day the king rose at three in the morning, and taking the great seal of state he disappeared down a secret passage, crossed the Thames, and flinging the great seal into the midst of the stream. He attempted to follow his wife and child to France. He was captured and brought back to London. But William had no wish to have his royal father-in-law on his hands, and James, the fugitive king, was allowed to embark for France. Then amid the pill of bells, the blast of trumpets, and the joyous shouts of the citizens, William and Mary were proclaimed king and queen of England. The great revolution was over. But James had no intention of giving up his kingdom so quietly. By the help of Louis XIV he raised an army and sailed over to assert his rights in Ireland. End of Chapter 41 Chapter 42 of The Awakening of Europe This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Singh Chapter 42 The Struggle in Ireland William now turned his attention to Ireland, where James II was stirring up the country against him. Neither was he the first English ruler to turn his eyes towards that unhappy land, that beautiful emerald isle across the seas, ever in a state of unrest and misery. What was the story of this strange, lonely island, which was so close to England and yet so far? Ireland, or Aaron, as the poets love to call her, has been compared to a lovely and lonely bride whom England has wedded but has never won. But the time must come, perhaps is not far distant, when bridegroom and bride shall understand one another and shall go forward hand in hand. Strong with the strength that no fate might deceiver, one with a oneness no force could divide. Oliver Cromwell had ruled the people with a firm hand. Indeed, he alone of English rulers stamped his image on the country. Eight weary years the Irish had fought for Charles I, and on his death they proclaimed his son King. This had roused Cromwell to action. In the summer of 1649 he landed in Ireland with a huge army. The following spring he returned to England, leaving Ireland once more crushed and lifeless. Her parliament had ceased to exist. A few Protestant members were transferred to London. The vast military colonies were established by Cromwell, and the large Roman Catholic landowners were exiled to a corner of the country between the Shannon and the sea called Canoe. To all outward appearance England and Ireland were now one. But when the English people rose against James II and drove him over to France, the people of Ireland, ever true to the Stuart coves and the Roman Catholic religion, resolved to support him. Here is one of the legends of how the King arrived in England. Aaron lay awake in bed. Outside a storm was raging and rain was falling in torrents. The wind was howling and roaring down the chimney. Suddenly there was a tap at the door. Who is there? asked Aaron. It is I, James, son of Charles. I have been driven forth by robbers from the home of my ancestors. Give me shelter, I pray thee, from the fury of the storm. Quickly Aaron unbarred the door and brought in the hapless stranger. She took off his dripping cloak, gave him dry clothes, put fresh peat upon the fire, supplied him with food and shelter, and promised to help him. The appearance of James in Ireland was hailed with enthusiasm. As a king, as a Roman Catholic, as a man in deep misfortune, he had a claim on the feelings of a warm-hearted race of people. He had landed at Kinsel on March 12, 1689. From court to Dublin people ran before him in crowds to greet him with tears and blessings. But the Irish, with the hapless exile James at their head, were no match for the great military force now landing in the north, commanded in person by William III of England. The country is worth fighting for, said William to his mixed army of English and Dutch as he marched through Ireland for the first time in his life. He noted the rich greenness of the land, the bays and rivers so admirably fitted for trade. Where were the forests of mass that lay in every harbor of his native Holland? Where are the warehouses that should have lined the quay? Could he not give these people the government and religion that had made Holland the wonder of the world? He marched on till he came to the green banks of the river Boine. As the glorious beauties of the valley burst upon him, he could not suppress his admiration. Here on the neighbouring hill of Dremor was the camp of James II. Here was to be fought one of the most famous battles of the age. An old story says that as the exiled king stood looking over the fair country, his crown fell from his head and rolled down the steep green slope till it plunged into the dark still waters below. On the walls of Draquita, at the mouth of the Boine, waved the flags of James and Louis XIV side by side. Every soldier, Irish and French, had a white badge in his hat. William's keen eye took in the whole situation. I am glad to see you, gentlemen, he said. If you escape me now, the fault will be mine. Their army is but small, said one of his Dutch soldiers. They may be stronger than they look, answered William, for he knew that many Irish regiments were hidden from view. The first of July dawned, the sun rose bright and cloudless. With drums beating, William and his army advanced to the banks of Boine. Each man had bound a green bow in his hat. Tin abreast, the soldiers then plunged into the stream, until the Boine seemed to be alive with muskets and waving bows. It was not till they had reached the middle that they realized their danger. Whole regiments afoot and horse, hidden from their sight, now seemed to start out of the very earth. A wild shout rose from the opposite shores, as the Irish and French together rushed to battle. But the great army led by William was too much for them. The Irish foot soldiers were untrained, badly armed, and unused to action. True, the cavalry stood firm, but their valor was powerless to win the day. At the first shock of reverse, James fled to Dublin. He arrived, convulsed with rage. Madam, he cried to the wife of one of his brave officers, Madam, your countrymen have run away. If they have, Sire, answered the Irish lady with ready wit, your majesty seems to have won the race. And the old stories say that James never stopped running till he reached the coast, when he took ship for France. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Singh. Chapter 43 The Siege of Vienna by the Turks Think with what passionate delight the tale was told in Christian halls, how Sobiesky turned to flight, the Muslim from Vienna's walls. Among the great names that fill the stage of Europe in the last quarter of the 17th century, William III, King of England and Holland, Louis XIV, King of France, Peter the Great, Tsar of Russia, and Charles XII of Sweden. The name of John Sobiesky, King of Poland, must not be forgotten. Sobiesky was a national hero rather than a great king. He might well have belonged to the old crusading days, for his head, even now, was full of crusading ideas. With other Christian rulers he watched the growth of Mohammedanism over Western Europe with increasing anxiety. For the last two hundred years the Ottoman Empire had stood high among the powers of Europe. Greece was subject to Turkey. Parts of Hungary, Austria, and Russia owned her sway. Now in the year 1683 the Turks were marching on Austria's capital, Vienna, and Vienna was totally unprepared for a siege. The Emperor of Austria was no soldier, so he removed his court to a place some fifteen miles away and calmly awaited events. The Viennese now turned to Sobiesky, the King of Poland, a well-known champion of the Christians, a well-known hater of the Turks. The fate of Austria hung on his reply. To Sobiesky the appeal had all the old romance of the crusades. Yes, he answered in haste, I will come and help you. And flinging his powerful frame into the saddle and his great soul into the cause, the King of Poland began eagerly to recruit his scattered army. Meanwhile the defence of the city was entrusted to Count Starnberg. He instantly set all hands to work. Set fire to the suburbs, he ordered, they shall not serve as cover to the enemy. The flames rose high around the city, a wind sprang up, and Vienna herself had a narrow escape of being burned to the ground. Presently the main force of the enemy appeared on the plain in front of Vienna. In a short time thousands of Turkish tents had sprung up, and the camp was alive with bustle and excitement. The tents of the Grand Vizier, or Prime Minister, were conspicuous with their green silk worked in gold and silver, their pearls in precious stones, their gorgeous eastern carpets.  From time to time the Grand Vizier, in gorgeously embroidered robes, was carried out in a litter to inspect the works. The siege had begun in real earnest. Assault followed assault. Day by day Starnberg climbed up the lofty fretted spire of the Cathedral Church in the heart of Vienna. He looked gloomily over the busy Turkish camp and owned sadly to himself that the Turks were gaining ground inch by inch. Sickness and famine followed, and still Sobieski did not come. Sobieski had left Poland a few days after the siege had begun in July, but the way was long. He himself was stout and heavy. It was the end of August before he reached the outskirts of Vienna. Here he found a little crowd of German princes awaiting him, together with Duke Charles of Lorraine. Ancestors of the Imperial House of Austria. Here was the Hanoverian Prince, afterwards George I of England. Here was Eugene of Savoy, the colleague of Marlboro at Blenheim. Here were men who fought in the Battle of the Boing, veterans of the Thirty Years' War, all united in a common cause. We have not come to save a single city but the whole of Christendom, said John Sobieski, as preparations for an attack on the Turks went forward. Marching two within four miles of Vienna, the Christian army occupied the heights of the Kallenburg. The sun was just setting on the evening of September 11th when Sobieski and his generals stood on the crest of the hill. They could hear the Turkish cannonade raging vigorously. They could hear the feeble reply from the despairing garrison within the town. But Sobieski's rockets from the Kallenburg brought new hope to the brave defenders, and Starnburg dispatched a messenger with a few urgent words. No time to be lost. No time indeed to be lost. Morning dawned misty and hot. The fate of Vienna depended on the events of the day. The army of the Christians began with a solemn service in the little chapel on the heights of Kallenburg. Then a standard with a white cross on a red ground was unfurled amid shouts of enthusiasm, and the leaders of the great army moved forward. The sky-blue doublet of John Sobieski marked him out above his fellows, as the descent of the wooded slopes towards Vienna began. The Grand Vizier's preparations for the battle were somewhat different. He slaughtered thirty thousand captives in cold blood and then slaughtered the advance. Down the slopes poured the Christian army like a whirlwind, while the shout, Long live Sobieski, rolled along the lines. With all their faults the Turks did not know cowardice. They fought as brave men, but they could not withstand the rush of the Christian army. Can you not help me? cried the Vizier in despair to one of his pashas. No was the answer. I know the king of Poland. It is impossible to resist him. Think only of flight. Panicked stricken the Turks fled, away through the wasted suburbs of Vienna, towards the frontier of Hungary. The Grand Vizier weeping and cursing by turns was hurried along with the stream. By evening communication with Vienna was established and Starnburg led forth his starving garrison to greet his deliverers. Amid the shouts of the people John Sobieski entered Vienna, the city which he had saved from the Turks. How would the emperor receive him? the people asked in their joy. For he has saved the empire. They might well question. The emperor received the deliverers of his people with a few cold words in Latin, for he was jealous of Sobieski's success. The king of Poland saw how matters stood. With a courteous chivalry that might have belonged to the Middle Ages, he saluted the Austrian emperor. I am happy, Sire, to have been able to render you this slight service, he said simply. A general chorus of admiration and thanksgiving arose from Europe. John Sobieski had not only saved Austria's capital, but he had destroyed the growing power of Turkey and forced the inhabitants back to their own dominions. End of Chapter 43 Chapter 44 of The Awakening of Europe This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Singh. Chapter 44 The Greatness of France Letaise Seymour. I am the State. Louis XIV Now there was one man who watched the growing power of William of Arange with intense alarm. That man was Louis XIV of France, who was now sheltering the unfortunate James. He had inherited a prosperous kingdom from his father, Louis XIII, and he had dreams of making an empire that should rival that of Charlemagne in size and magnificence, dreams of a great Roman Catholic Union of which he himself should be the head. He was but four and a half years old when his father lay dying. I have been named Louis XIV. The child told the sinking king. Not yet. Not yet, whispered his father, who still clung to life. But within a month the little Louis was indeed King of France. Sitting in the carriage beside his widowed mother, he entered the capital amid great enthusiasm. Seated upon his throne he received the great men of the kingdom. Simply dressed in a little velvet frock, he even stood up and made them a speech prompted by his governess. Until he came of age, though King in name, a great minister, Mazarin, ruled the country for him. He was a great statesman and greatly increased the influence of France abroad. On the death of Mazarin in 1661 Louis stepped firmly onto the scene himself. He had grown up with the hopeless idea that the king was supreme, that he could rule as he liked, without the people, without the parliament. I am the state, he asserted firmly. The king alone rules. Everything must center in the king. He made the same fatal mistake that had brought the steward kings to grief in England. He tried to rule alone, without the people. Louis now set to work to make his court the most magnificent in Europe. The other flocked poets and playwriters, men of letters and great ministers. And it was such as these that helped to make France so great at this time. Perhaps most important of all those at Louis' court was Colbert, the great minister of finance, who raised France to take such a high place among the commercial nations of his day. He invited over the best workmen from other countries and started manufacturers of steel, iron, glass, and tapestry. He built ships until France had a navy strong enough to beat the combined fleets of England and Holland. He looked after the French colonies in America and the West Indies. And so he made the country richer and richer. No longer did the ladies of Paris ride through the dirty streets on mules. They had now carriages and stagecoaches to convey them from place to place. There was Molière, the son of an upholsterer, whose masterpieces of comedy so delighted the king that he raised him to a high position of wealth at the court. There was Racine, who loved to write of the old Greeks and Romans. There was Pascal, whose beautiful thoughts made him known as the Plato of modern France. There was Lafontaine, who wrote fables after the style of the old Greek esophage, which delight every French child of today just as they delighted the children of the 17th century. Then there was Fanolone, scholar and man of letters, selected by the king to be tutor to his little grandson Louis. Fanolone came to the court when little Louis was but seven years old. He was a wayward, self-willed child, who like his grandfather, the king, thought that everything must give way to his whims and wishes. Fanolone's task was no easy one, but gently and firmly he accomplished it until the boy's wondering mind grasped the teaching of his high-sold tutor. He began to learn that there were higher things in life than the mere grandeur of kingship, that honor and courage were above all necessary. That religion must be real and very true. The boy loved the man who taught him of these things with a faithful love that stood the test of time and exile. With you I am only little Louis. He would cry when he escaped from the pumps and shams of the French court to the tutor, who, if he chided him, loved him as his very life. For this little Louis Fanolone wrote stories and fables to illustrate the dangers of kingship. He called them the Adventures of Telemachus, because he wrote them in the style of Homer's Odyssey. He wrote about an ideal king who lived for his people and his country only and not for himself. But in course of time the stories got into the hands of the king himself. He was very angry, and Fanolone was ever after this in deep disgrace. The wars of Louis XIV also raised the fame of France abroad. The French armies were better equipped and disciplined than any others of that age. The French wars with the Netherlands have already been described. Louis's career of conquest was only stayed by the Triple Alliance, made by England, Holland, and Sweden. He extended the frontiers of France and Alsace, and together with his famous commanders, Condé and Turin, he conquered town after town in Germany. All Europe feared him. He had taught his own people to admire him by reason of his military glory and skillful management. He was an absolute despot. He held no parliament. He raised taxes at pleasure. Even the courts of justice yielded to the absolute sway of the king who interrupted the ordinary course of the law as he pleased. He built for himself a magnificent palace at Versailles, eleven miles from Paris. He spent vast sums of money rung from his people upon gilded halls and painted rooms, magnificent but uncomfortable. It was a center of pleasure and luxury built to the glory of one man, Louis XIV. The Story of the Huguenots No sooner was Colbert dead than Louis struck a tremendous blow at the large Huguenot community in his kingdom. The massacre of St. Bartholomew over one hundred eleven years before had thinned their ranks, but a famous act known to history as the Edict of Nantes had secured to them their rights as citizens of France. By this they could enjoy perfect freedom. They could hold offices side by side with Roman Catholics. They could build their own churches, teach in their own schools. So they had increased in numbers and in strength. But in the year 1626, when Louis XIII was reigning, their liberty was again threatened. They rose in revolt and were besieged in their old stronghold, La Rochelle. The city was built in a crescent shape round a fine landlocked bay with a splendid harbor. It was sheltered from Atlantic storms by an island at the mouth of the harbor. So strong was the situation of La Rochelle that the king Louis XIII and his great minister Richelieu had to bring the whole strength of the army to bear upon it. But stout Huguenot hearts beat within. We will not submit while there is one man left to shut the gates against the enemy, they said within the walls. Richelieu was determined to take the place. He built immense stone dykes out into the sea across the harbor bar from shore to shore. Where the water was too deep in the middle he filled huge ships with stones and sank them across the harbor mouth. It was a gigantic task, but it proved successful at last. Starvation began to tell on the heroic Huguenots who could get no relief from without. Men, women and children dropped dead in the streets and after a resistance of fourteen months the city fell. And Richelieu, beside his king, rode into the death-stricken town of La Rochelle at the head of the royal army. The Huguenots had again increased until they formed the most flourishing members of French trade. But Louis XIV thought more about his own fame and power than of his country, and he now sought to convert or persecute them more fiercely than before. They were treated more and more harshly until at length every career seemed close to them. From time to time the king's messengers broke into their churches, placed their bibles and hymbooks in a great pile and set fire to them. Those that rebelled were hanged. Then the king played his last card. In 1685 he revoked the famous Edict of Nantes and thus struck the death knell of the French Huguenots. With levers and pickaxes the Huguenot churches were knocked down. Children were torn from their mother's arms to be brought up in the Roman Catholic faith.  Hundreds were condemned to die. Others were imprisoned for life. If God preserved the king there will not be one Huguenot left twenty years hence, said one of Louis's friends. Crushed, tormented, persecuted. There was nothing left then but flight and even this was refused to most of them. They must become Roman Catholics or die. The frontiers of France were strongly guarded. The coast were watched. In their desperate state the unhappy Huguenots crossed the frontier through forest over trackless waste or by high mountain paths where no guard was stationed. Numbers escaped into Switzerland, Germany and Holland. They mostly traveled under cover of darkness in small parties. They disguised themselves in all sorts of ways. One went as peddlers. Others as soldiers, huntsmen, beggars or servants. One well-known officer and his wife escaped to Holland, dressed as orange-sellers, leading a donkey with panniers.  One lady of high berth escaped as a peasant with her infant son slung in a shawl at her back, passed through the guards and made her way to London. Young girls browned their faces and pushed will-bearers to escape detection. Many hid in empty casks and were thus carried on board ships bound for England. Their sufferings were terrible. Numbers were caught and brought back. Men and boys were put to serve as galley slaves in the vessels of war which sailed up and down the Mediterranean Sea, five being chained to each oar. Just a few were saved. The first admiral in France was a Huguenot. The king sent for him and begged him to become a Roman Catholic, but the old hero pointed to his gray hairs. For sixty years, sire, have I rendered to Caesar the things which are Caesar's? Suffer me still to render unto God the things that are God's. He was eighty years old. He had served his country well and Louis spared him. But the great stream of Huguenot immigrants had left their country. It was a death blow to several great branches of industry encouraged by Colbert. The silk manufacturers went over to London in a body. Amsterdam was filled with industry as French workers. Germany, Switzerland, all gained by the exodus. French ships were left unmanned and the Huguenot seamen carried the news of their country's madness to the ends of the earth. Numbers sailed over the sea to America. A large party went to the Cape of Good Hope and joined the Dutch colony already thriving there under von Riebek. Thus a blow was struck at the prosperity of France. Not only her industries, but the flower of her race was gone, exiled, banished to foreign lands. The greatness of France had already begun to pass away. End of Chapter 45 Chapter 46 of The Awakening of Europe This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Awakening of Europe by M.B. Singh Chapter 46 The Greatest General of His Age Jack of Marlborough, who beat the Frenchmen thorough and thorough. Old English Rhine Though the 17th century ended in peace, yet dark storm clouds were hovering over Europe. Louis XIV still reigned in France. William III in England. But it was towards distant Spain that the eyes of kings and people were now strained. There on the throne of his forefathers set a miserable and sickly king, whose death must end the long line of princes who had for two hundred years occupied the Spanish throne. The great question now engaging Europe was, who should succeed him? Spain had fallen from her high estate, but so vast still was the extent of her empire that under vigorous rule her old power might yet return. In 1700 the poor king died, leaving his kingdom to Philip, the young grandson of Louis XIV of France. The younger brother of that little Louis loved and taught by Phanelon years before. Nothing could have been more pleasing to the ambition of Louis XIV. Gladly enough he dispatched his grandson, a boy of 17, to the court of Madrid, though the boy king of Spain was in bitter tears at leaving his home in Paris for a long winter journey to his new kingdom. Remember, there are no longer any Perenian mountains, were Louis's parting words to Philip? Louis had promised faithfully never to unite the thrones of France and Spain, and it was with some uneasiness now that Europe watched him directing young Philip with a high hand. No one felt more uneasy than William III of England. His whole life had been a struggle to keep the ever-growing power of France within bounds. He distrusted Louis, and it was with reluctance that he acknowledged Philip as king of Spain. Now Louis went a step farther. James, the exiled king of England, lay dying in France. When Louis entered his room and promised him to help his son Charles to regain the English throne when William should die. In a moment all England was in a blaze. The English people had never loved their Dutch king. But he had made them free. He had been the champion of the Protestant religion. Should the king of France dictate to them who was to be their king? A thousand times, no. Rather would they fight. In the midst of these storms William was thrown one day from his horse and broke his collarbone. In the wretched state of his health he had no strength to rally. There was a time when I should have been glad to have been delivered out of my difficulties. Whispered the dying king to his lifelong Dutch friend. But I see another scene and could wish to live a little longer. This was denied him. It was the year 1702 that William died leaving his sister-in-law Anne to be queen of England. Angrily the king of France received the news of her accession and two months later war was declared by England against France and Spain. The command of the troops was given by Anne to her old friend the Duke of Marlborough. This was the man who was now to carry on the work of his old master in baffling the ambitions of France. The man who was to decide the fate of Europe. Already glimpses of him had appeared from time to time. He was one of those who deserted his king to fight under the banner of William of Orange. He had helped Anne to escape before her father, James II, reached London. He had later been caught plotting with the very king whom he had deserted and thrown into prison by William. Pardoned and restored to favour, he became tutor to Anne's little boy, heir to the throne. For Mary had died of smallpox while still young, leaving no child to succeed her and William. Marlborough was ambitious in scheming that he was a marvellous soldier. He did not take up his command till the age of 52, an age when the work of many men is nearly done, that he had unbroken good fortune. Voltaire said that he never besieged a fortress that he did not take or fight a battle that he did not win. Our Duke was as calm at the mouth of a cannon as at the door of a drawing-room, said one who served under him. He was cold, calm, resolute as fate. Yet those of the army who knew him best and had suffered most from him admired him most of all, and as he rode along the lines to battle or galloped up in the nick of time to a battalion reeling before the enemy's charge or shot, the fainting men and officers got new courage as they saw the splendid calm of his face and felt that his will made him irresistible. Such was the Duke of Marlborough, the greatest general of his age. The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Sing Chapter 47 The Battle of Blenheim But everybody said, quote he, that was a famous victory. Southie Away in the heart of the German black forest rises the River Deneuve, one of the largest rivers in Europe. It is more than double the length of the Rhine. It is swifter than the Sang. After leaving Germany it waters the plains of Hungary, supplies Vienna, the capital of Austria and flows into the Black Sea. But today we are only concerned with a little village on the banks of this great river, the village of Blenheim, where the fate of Europe was to be decided by the Duke of Marlborough. He had left Harwich in April of 1704 and reached the Hague two days later, heart broken at the death from smallpox of her only son, the Duchess of Marlborough wanted to go with him. But I am going into Germany, the King wrote to her from Holland, where it would be impossible for you to follow me. But love me as you do now, and no hurt can come to me. Marlborough had no easy task before him. Louis XIV had been victorious in Germany and the French boundary seemed growing larger and larger. He now had designs on Vienna where he thought to decide the fate of the Empire. This master stroke of Louis roused Marlborough to a master stroke in return. But he kept his plans a secret. Having completed his preparations at the Hague he sailed round to Utrecht. All Europe was now watching his progress with the greatest interest and anxiety. With a huge army of English and Dutch soldiers he now marched southwards, his plans yet a secret from the world. I am in a house that has a view over the finest country that is possible to be seen, he wrote to his wife. I see out of my chamber window the Rhine and the Nicar. I hope in eight days to meet the Prince Eugene. Now Prince Eugene of Savoy ruled over a little state bordering on France and he had promised to help England against the growing power of Louis. The two generals now met for the first time and Marlborough reviewed his troops in the presence of the Prince who was much surprised at their smartness after the long march. I have heard much of the English Calvary, he said, and find it indeed to be the best appointed and finest I have ever seen. Money of which you have no one in England can buy clothes and arms but nothing can purchase a spirit which I see in the looks of your men. My troops, answered Marlborough, are now inspirated by your presence. To you we owe that spirit which awakens your admiration. It was only now after the Nicar had been crossed and Marlborough had struck through the heart of Germany towards the Danube that his plans unfolded themselves before the eyes of the world. He would defeat the French before they reached Vienna. He now joined the Imperial German Army under the Prince of Bodden. I have come to meet the Deliverer of the Empire, said the Prince. I have come to learn of your highness how to save the Empire, answered Marlborough, though he wrote to his wife a few days later. You know that I am not good at compliments. They had now reached the Danube behind a little stream which ran through the swampy ground to the Danube lay the huge army of French and Bavarians. They were strongly entrenched for in front lay a swamp to the right the Danube to the left some hill country. It was near the little village of Blenheim which has given its name to one of the most memorable battles in the history of the world. Fifty thousand soldiers in this position feared no foe. I know the danger, said Marlborough, when the officers ventured to suggest the hopelessness of fighting such an army. But a battle is absolutely necessary. He gave orders for a general engagement on the following day. That anxious night on the banks of the fast-flowing Danube was spent by Marlborough in prayer. He felt a nation's fate hung in the balance. But I have great reason to hope that everything will go well, he wrote calmly home. The morning of August 13th broke and the troops were soon a stir. But it was not till midday that the actual action began. Marlborough himself chose the center for his attack. He made an artificial road across the swamp and through his eight thousand horsemen across. Two of these desperate charges led by the Duke himself decided the day. The French were flung back on the Danube and at last forced to surrender. Hundreds were drowned while trying to swim across the swift river. Twelve thousand were slain. Fourteen thousand taken prisoner. The battle was hardly won when Marlborough took from his pocketbook a slip of paper. I have not time to say more, he scribbled to his wife, but to beg you will give my duty to the queen and let her know that her army has had a glorious victory. This little time-worn note may still be seen at the Palace of Plenum near Oxford, which was afterwards built at the country's expense for Marlborough as a memorial of his famous victory. Not only England, but the whole of Europe was amazed at the victory of Plenum. The invincible power of France had at last been checked. The finest French regiments had been destroyed in a single battle. Marlborough had fought with the fate of Europe in his hand and had won. In England his name was on every lip. His praises were sung by poets and statesmen. But in France Louis loved not the name of Marlborough and the little French children trembled with fear at the sound. Chapter 47 Chapter 48 of The Awakening of Europe This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Singh Chapter 48 How Peter the Great Learned Shipbuilding Nothing can be small to a great man Zhukovsky One day in the year 1697 when William III was yet ruling over England and Holland, the Dutch shipbuilders at the little village of Zondam were surprised to hear that Peter the Great Emperor or Tsar of Russia was at the village in. Yes, said the people, he had come to learn from the Dutch how to build ships and he was disguised as a common sailor to sail the ships. It was quite true, Peter the Great had come from the heart of his great country, Russia. He had crossed the Baltic into Sweden and thence had reached Holland. It was but six o'clock in the morning when he arrived at Zondam and he had been the first to jump a shore and moor his ship to the quay. Meeting a Dutch workman who had been employed once in Russia he insisted on going to his cottage for lodging. It was a small bear cottage built of wood. It had but one room with a big chimney corner and a wooden cupboard in which a mattress was laid for sleeping. We are only foreign craftsmen seeking work, he told the curious people. Then he bought himself a set of carpenter's tools, carried them to the cottage with his own hands and set to work at once. He dressed in a Dutch suit like the local boatman in a red waistcoat with large buttons, short jacket and wide breeches. He spent hours daily watching the shipbuilders at work. He visited sawmills, oil and paper mills, rope works, sailmakers and ironsmiths workshops. He made a model windmill too. He also bought a small ship, made a mast with his own hands, fitted it up and sailed about the bay. But meanwhile the news had leaked out that the tall, handsome man with long curling hair in the dress of a Dutch sailor was indeed the Tsar of Russia and crowds of people began to follow him everywhere. So a week later he escaped to Amsterdam in a violent storm of wind and there he was given a lodging in the great dockyards of the East India Company. Here he worked steadily for four months so that he might help in the building to end. He rose early, lit his own fire, cooked his own food and lived altogether like a simple workman. It was a very different life to that he had lived in Russia. From his earliest years he had been surrounded with every luxury. As a baby he had slept in a cradle covered with velvet and embroidered with gold. His sheets had been of silk, his frocks of satin, jewels and emeralds. At three years old he was driven in a little golden carriage drawn by four tiny ponies while dwarfs rode beside him as bodyguard. As a boy he loved sailors and soldiers and was enthusiastic about ships and the sea. Such was the boyhood of the man who was to found Russia's army and navy. Peter the Great was working away when one day the Duke of Marlborough visited the docks to see him at work. Peter, carpenter of Zondam, helped those men to carry that wood, cried the foreman in order to point him out to the Englishman. And the Tsar, Peter, obeyed it once. When the ship was finished it was offered to Peter the Great as a present from the city of Amsterdam. He accepted it with joy, christened it the Amsterdam and carried it back to Russia. He had built his ship but still he was dissatisfied. He thought the Dutch worked too much by rule of thumb that they had no knowledge of shipbuilding really so he grew sad and out of spirits. He had traveled so far and had not reached the desired goal. You should come over to England, said the Englishman who was present. In our country shipbuilding is carried to the highest perfection. Peter the Great was delighted with the idea. He had met William of Orange and the King of England had sent him a beautiful ship constructed on a new plan. Peter now asked him if he might come to England in order to visit the dockyards. William replied by sending over two large ships to conduct the Tsar to England. Arrived in London Peter the Great went over the large docks at the mouth of the River Thames. He soon mastered the higher branches of shipbuilding to his satisfaction. I should have remained a carpenter only had I not come to England, he used to say afterwards. But it would take too long to tell how Peter the Great returned to Russia and taught his people how to build ships. How he built the great city which bears his name, Petersburg, to this day. He built it on the shores of the Baltic, at the mouth of a large river, in imitation of Amsterdam, and made it the capital of Russia. But the story of how he learned to build ships in Holland and England shows how, in the eyes of the world, those two nations were in advance of all others in the art of shipbuilding. End of Chapter 48 Chapter 49 of The Awakening of Europe This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Singh Chapter 49 Charles XII of Sweden He left a name at which the world grew pale to point a moral or adorn a tale. Johnson Russia, the largest state in Europe, took no part in public affairs. She lay unheated amid the snow and ice of her northern climb until Peter the Great made her mighty enough to play her part in the world's history. Sweden, on the other hand, had already made her mark. Under Gustavus Adolphus, the Lion of the North, she had become a power among the states of Europe. How she lost everything under Charles XII and how Russia rose to fame in the romantic stories in history. Born in 1682 Charles of Sweden was ten years younger than his rival Peter the Great of Russia. He early showed signs of future greatness. At four years old he could perform military exercises on his pony. At seven he shot his first fox at eleven his first bear. He loved stories of war. His hero in history was Alexander the Great. He would like to be such a man, he would say. But he only lived thirty-two years, said his tutor. One has lived long enough when one has conquered a whole kingdom. Answer the boy with the wisdom beyond his years. His father, the king, died in 1697 leaving Sweden at the height of her power. Charles was a tall, thin boy of fifteen when he was crowned. It was Christmas time when the snow fell heavily.  A dull murmur went through the crowd. It was an evil omen. While Peter the Great was learning shipbuilding in Holland, Charles was learning to endure hardships bravely. He would get up at night and lie on bare planks with no clothes over him. For three nights running stables with no covering but hay. But the moment came when the boy should suddenly become a man. He was bear hunting one day when the news arrived that the king of Poland had invaded his dominions. We will soon make King Augustus return by the way he came, said Charles calmly, turning with a smile to the messenger. He hurried to his capital, Stockholm, to prepare for war only to learn that Russia was in league with Poland. His coolness in the face of danger filled everyone with surprise. I have resolved, he said, never to begin an unrighteous war, but I have also resolved never to finish a righteous war till I have utterly crushed my enemies. He left Stockholm never to return. Peter the Great had besieged a town on the shores of the Baltic and the other Charles marched with a force of fourteen thousand sweets to drive back the Russians. As the boy king led his troops towards the enemy's lines the sky became dark with a sudden storm. Heavy snow fell which was driven by the wind into the faces of the Russians. Charles saw his advantage and advanced rapidly. The Russians were not used to warfare. Their czar, Peter, was serving as a soldier among them to teach them what he himself had learned. But he could not stay them in the face of the Swedes and they fell back in confusion. So Charles gained the victory and entered Narva in triumph. It was but the first of many victories. The youthful conqueror now marched against the king of Poland with the result that in 1707 the king had formally to resign his crown which was at once offered to Charles XII king of Sweden. The eyes of all Europe were now fixed on this Swedish hero who was carrying all before him. Marlboro rushed over to interview Charles in person and to find out whether he had intentions of joining France. But he noted how the young king's face kindled on mention of Peter the Great and how the table was strewn with maps of Russia. Charles cared nothing for Europe's wars so long as he could overthrow his rival in Russia. At last the longed-for moment came and Charles XII at the head of a huge army marched into Russia hoping to reach Moscow in time to deal a deadly blow to the Russians. He was making his way thither when a terrible frost the like of which had not been known for many years froze all Europe. Birds dropped dead from the trees. Men who fell asleep were frozen to death. Nowhere was it more terrible than in Russia. The sufferings of the Swedes were intense yet the king's plans had to be carried out and the daily march made. Thousands perished in the snow and the situation of the Swedish army became alarming. Supplies were running short and all communication with Central Europe was now cut off by the Russians. Since the days of Narva nine years before the whole of Russia had awakened Great had retaken Narva and built his city of Petersburg. He had built a navy and taught his people modern warfare so in the spring of the year 1709 he was ready with a magnificent army fresh and well supplied for the invasion of Charles. At the head of his troops he now forced the Swedish king to give battle under the walls of Poltava a fortress to the south of Moscow. A fresh misfortune now befell the Swedes Charles was riding within range of the enemy's fire when a bullet struck him in the foot. He did not flinch but blood dropping fast from his boot and his own ghastly paleness revealed the truth. In great pain he spent another hour in the trenches giving orders until his foot became so swollen that his boot had to be cut off. Bones were broken and the splinters had to be cut away the king assisting with a knife himself. But he could no longer retain the command. The day of battle dawned and Charles put on his uniform wore a spurred boot on the sound foot and placed himself in a litter to be drawn to the scene of action. The Swedes, whose uniforms were ragged from their long campaigns tied a wisp of straw in their caps and adopted as their watchword with God's help. Never was Charles more wanted to command his forces than to command his army Charles more wanted to command his forces than today. The Swedes fought fearlessly but the Russian host was too strong for them and before evening fell Peter the Great stood victorious on the field of Poltava. Charles, whose litter had been smashed by a cannon-ball, was born out of the battle by his soldiers. When the Swedish officer surrendered their arms to the Tsar he asked the commander how he dared to invade a great empire like Russia with a mere handful of men. Because the king commanded it was the loyal answer and it is the first duty of a loyal subject to obey his king.  Thus Peter triumphed over Sweden. The foundations of St. Petersburg are firm at last. He cried joyously as the defeated Swedes hastened away from his inhospitable country. End of Chapter 49 Chapter 50 of The Awakening of Europe This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Awakening of Europe by N. B. Singh Chapter 50 The Boyhood of Frederick the Great One of the greatest soldiers ever born Carlisle The Battle of Poltava was over. Peter the Great, the father of his country emperor of Russia had raised his land to a higher rank in Europe. Another king was now to arise the king of the country bordering on Russia who was to raise his country too to play her part in the world's history. This was Frederick the Great of Russia. He was born in 1712 five years after Poltava at the palace of Berlin capital of the kingdom of Russia. He was christened Frederick amid great rejoicings for two little princes had already died one killed by the noise of the cannon fired for joy over him the other crushed to death by the weighty dress and metal crown in which he was arrayed for his christening Little Fritz was brought up by his father with Spartan severity his food was very plain for his father meant to make a soldier of him. The prince must from his youth upwards be trained as officer and general and to seek all his glory in the soldier's profession the king used to say a company of one hundred boy soldiers was formed for him and he was drilled to take command of them dressed in the Prussian uniform with a blue and a cocked hat but the boy did not take kindly to soldiering and no one could guess at this time that he would one day be a great soldier by the time he was ten years old every moment had been planned out for him by his father every day Fritz is to be called at six and rise at once you are to stand with him that he do not loiter or turn in bed but briskly and at once do get up and say his prayers this done he shall as rapidly as possible get on his shoes wash his face and hands put on a short dressing gown and have his hair combed out whilst getting combed he shall at the same time take breakfast of tea so that both jobs go on at once and this shall be ended before half past six from seven to nine he learns history from nine to eleven the christian religion then Fritz rapidly washes his face hands with water hands with soap and water puts on clean shirt and coat and comes to the king the rest of the day is mapped out in the same style but under it Fritz grew self-willed he refused to have his hair cut according to army regulations he combed it out like a cockatoo which enraged his father until one day the court surgeon was sent with comb and scissors in order to crop the prince's hair daily the prince grew more out of favor in vain his mother pleaded for him I cannot bear him cried the angry king he is shy he cannot ride or shoot he is not clean in his person frizzes his hair like a fool all this I have reproved a thousand times but in vain still Fritz kept his own way one day the king found him playing the flute in a golden brocaded dressing-gown after storming angrily for some time at the unhappy prince he ordered both dressing-gown and books to be burned fritz is a piper and a poet he cried desperately he cares nothing for soldiering and will undo all that I have been doing at last the day came when he could not meet fritz without seizing him by the collar and beating him the prince was now eighteen and his position was unbearable I am in the utter most despair he wrote to his mother the king is entirely forgotten that I am his son I am driven to extremity no longer can I endure such treatment my patience is at an end I go and do not return I shall get across to England farewell his sister Wilhelmina urged him to give up his wild plans but he would not his escape, however, was badly planned he was arrested and brought back why did you run away roared his father because you have not treated me as your son but as a slave was the answer then the furious king drew his sword and would have made an end of his son had he not been stopped by an old general stab me he cried but spare your son the prince was now sent away to a fortress some sixty miles from Berlin and lodged in a bare, strong room alone his sword was taken from him he was dressed in brown prison clothes and fed on cheap food his room was opened three times a day for four minutes at a time lights were put out at seven he had no books no flute to pass the dreary hours away he became melancholy and ill and the king was besought to have pity on him lest he should die at the end of a year the king thought fit to visit him the prince fell at his father's feet in an agony of grief which touched even the stony-hearted king he was received home again put back into the army and slowly won the love and affection of his father I have always loved you said the king as he lay dying though I have been strict with you God is very good to give me so excellent and worthy a son Fritz, with falling tears kissed his father's hand the king clasped him in his arms sobbing oh my God, I die content since I have such a worthy son and successor this was the year seventeen forty much was to happen yet before Frederick the Great succeeded in making Prussia powerful enough to play her role in the history of Europe End of Chapter 50 Chapter 51 of The Awakening of Europe This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Singh Chapter 51 Anson's Voyage Around the World The Awakening of Europe Stay Traveler a while and view one who has traveled more than you quite round the globe through each degree Anson and I have plowed the sea A Cali The story of Lord Anson's famous voyage in the Centurion and his capture of the great Spanish treasure ship is one of the finest records of the sea Frederick the Great had just ascended the throne of Prussia when Anson started off on his expedition against the Spaniards England and Spain had once more been quarreling over their trading rights in America and matters were brought to a crisis by an episode known as Jinkens Ear One day an English merchant captain called Jinkens told a story in London of how he had been tortured by the Spaniards He produced from a little box a human ear which he declared the Spaniards had cut off and bid him take to the English King England was furious at this insult and war became inevitable George Anson, captain of the ship Centurion, was now appointed to command an expedition bound for the East India islands by way of South America with orders to ravage the coast of Peru, capture the Spanish treasure ship sailing from Mexico and repeat as far as possible the dashing exploits of Hawkins and Drake 160 years before the expedition met with delays in starting it was difficult to get sailors and soldiers for the enterprise which had to be kept as secret as possible at last 500 old and infirm soldiers were told off for the service under Anson some were over 70 years of age some were cripples the unhappy invalids were unwilling to go and all who had limbs and strength to walk away deserted thus handicapped from the start Anson at last set out on his ill-fated but splendid voyage the year was far advanced and they were so delayed by winter storms and gales that they took 40 days to reach Madeira a voyage now performed in four days it was March before they reached the south of America no longer were the straits where Magellan and Drake had encountered such terrific storms the acknowledged sea route to the Pacific Ocean ships now sailed round Cape Horn at the extreme south of the island known as Tierra del Fuego the land of fire the weather was now pleasant and thinking the worst was over Anson cheered himself by planning his raid on the Spanish treasure ships but no sooner had they reached the extreme south than a tremendous storm of wind accompanied by hail and rain broke over the little fleet never were fiercer seas or blacker skies more cruelly edged with sleet and ice the very sails were frozen the rigging was turned into mere ladders of ice the decks were slippery as glass and the great seas dashed over them incessantly the groaning and overstrained ships let in water in every stream and for over fifty days each furious gale was followed by one yet more furious it was a desperate time of year to attempt such a dangerous passage and it was a wonder that any of the little ships escaped complete destruction as it was after two months of battling the wind and waves the centurion found herself alone on the Pacific Ocean still there was no peace strong westerly gales raged day after day till the long narrow coast of Chile became one mad tumult of foam the skies were dark and black and when from time to time a glimmer of light made its way through the darkness it was only to show the height of the Andes white with snow and now a fresh trouble arose scurvy broke out among the crew the legs and arms of the men broke out into open sores cold wounds broke out afresh they died at the rate of five and six a day until two hundred had found their last rest under the stormy sea still storm upon storm broke over the now half wrecked ship full of sick and dying men until at last the centurion and two battered ships all that was left of the fleet that had started found a long salt shelter in the harbor of the island of Juan Fernandez the southern coast of America of the nine hundred sixty one men who had sailed from England only three hundred thirty five were left alive how could such as these ever hope to capture Spanish treasure ships but the brave heart of Anson was undaunted each fresh disaster made him only more determined to succeed after a stay of one hundred thirty days on the island for repairs and refreshment he set sail for the coast of Chile and Peru how he captured the Spanish town of Paíta at dead of night with only sixty British sailors and carried off the silver from the treasury is a story unsurpassed in naval history sailing on past Panama he next laid weight off Alcapulco for one of the great Mexican treasure ships but the Spaniards caught sight of an English sail in the distance and they kept their treasure ships at home had not the fight of Sir Richard Grenville on the little revenge taught them to beware of the Englishman at sea it was no use waiting there any longer so Anson turned his ships and faced the trackless path of the lonely Pacific Ocean it was now May seventeen forty two two ships were left him now and a furious gale disabled one so the Centurion alone with her great figurehead of a huge lion rampant carved in wood plowed the merciless waves of the wide Pacific Scurvy was again doing its work and carrying off the crew by scores food was bad water scares but for three months Anson resolutely kept on his way until the Ladrone Islands were reached he was now down with Scurvy himself but pure water and fresh fruits soon revived the dripping men and onwards they sailed once more it was now two years since he had left England years of hardship and suffering of heroism unshaken by plague or storm but his orders were yet unfulfilled a treasure ship from Mexico was due at the Philippine islands on its way home to Spain it would be a stout ship and fully manned probably with a crew of six hundred Anson's crew was now two hundred one should they try and capture her? with a shout of joy the stout-hearted sailors express their willingness to do or die it was early dawn one morning in June when a cry rang through the silent air the ship the ship the Spanish vessel bore in sight and the little Centurion sailed quickly towards her in a squall of wind and rain Anson attacked her while she was yet totally unprepared he scourged the Spanish decks with fire and drove the men from their guns soon he had captured his prize with a mere handful of men for he lost one hundred fifty killed and wounded he navigated his own ship and the Spanish galleon through dangerous and unknown seas he rounded the Cape of Good Hope and landed in England on June 15th, 1744 with his treasure his voyage had been yet more amazing than that of Drake one hundred sixty years before amid unrivaled disaster Anson had brought his ship right round the world he had fulfilled his orders and he had added enduring fame to the British flag End of Chapter 51 Chapter 52 of the Awakening of Europe This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Awakening of Europe by M. B. Singh Chapter 52 Maria Teresa Fair Austria spreads her mournful charms The Queen, the Beauty, sets the world in arms Dr. Johnson Anson returned home to find that during his four years' absence Europe had plunged into a terrible war He had but just started when the Emperor of Austria died somewhat unexpectedly He had left his crown and all his vast possessions to his eldest daughter, Maria Teresa The story of this young and beautiful Queen left at the age of twenty-three to rule over the large empire of Austria is a stirring one in the world's history She was born at Vienna in 1717 and was the prettiest little maiden in the world when Frederick the Great was beginning his unhappy childhood at Berlin When she was but seven years old her father made up his mind that she should succeed him if he had no son He drew up a great document known to history as the Pragmatic Sanction It was accepted by Spain, England, Prussia, Russia and Holland and refused by France and Bavaria The little Maria Teresa was brought up as the future Empress of Austria At the age of fourteen she was admitted to council meetings and she listened with eager interest to all she could understand People often took advantage of the little girl giving her petitions to carry to her father till he became angry with her You seem to think that a sovereign has nothing to do but grant favors, he said at last I see nothing else that can make a crown bearable answered the child She insisted on learning the history and geography of her own country and ever tried to fit herself for the high position she was some day to take One story says that a marriage between Maria Teresa and Frederick the Great was planned which might have altered the whole course of European history A marriage with the Spanish heir was certainly talked of but Maria Teresa with tears insisted on marrying her cousin the Duke of Lorraine She had been married four years when her father died Maria Teresa suddenly found herself Empress of Austria Queen of Hungary and Bohemia the sovereign of the Netherlands She reigned over some of the finest and fairest provinces of Europe over nations speaking different languages governed by different laws and held together by no link saved that of acknowledging the same queen That queen was very young and very beautiful but quite inexperienced Within a few months her right to these provinces was questioned and Europe began to grab her outlying possessions France, Spain and Prussia led the way England and Holland remained true to their promise like a hind in the forest when the hunters were abroad and the fiercely baying hounds were on every side so stood the lovely queen Maria Teresa She trembled for the safety of her empire not knowing from which side the fury of the chase would burst upon her She was determined to yield nothing The inheritance which my father has left me we will not part with these death if it must be but not dishonor Her helpless condition excited the greatest pity in England and King George II came over in person to fight for her but before he came over to help Frederick the Great had already claimed Seleucia One snowy day in April 1741 he fought a great battle against the Austrians and all Europe from this time seemed to break into war In the midst of these distresses a son and heir was born and called Joseph After this and amid scenes of the greatest enthusiasm Maria Teresa was crowned Queen of Hungary Pressburg the old capital was some fifty miles from Vienna Here the old iron crown of Hungary was placed upon her head a sacred robe was thrown over her a sword was girded to her side Thus dressed she mounted a splendid horse and riding to a piece of rising ground she drew her sword and waving it towards the four quarters of the globe she seemed to be defying war and conquering all who saw her The crown had never been placed on so small a head before it had been lined with cushions to make it fit but it was heavy and hot and when the young Queen sat down to dine in the great hall of the castle after the coronation she begged to have it taken off As it was removed her beautiful hair no longer confined fell in long ringlets on her shoulders It is said that her Hungarian nobles could hardly keep from shouting applause Three months later at this very Pressburg one of the most famous scenes in history took place when Maria Teresa threw herself and her infant son upon the mercy of those very Hungarian nobles Her enemies had now reached the very gates of Vienna and taking the six month old baby she was obliged to flee for her life leaving her husband to maintain her cause Making her way to her old capital she summoned the Hungarians to a great meeting in the castle It was September 11th, 1741 a day ever remembered in the annals of Hungary The great hall was already full when the young Queen entered She was in deep mourning for it was not yet a year since her father had died Her dress was Hungarian the iron crown was on her head the sword of state in her hand Though her step was firm her tears were falling fast and for some time after she had ascended the throne she was unable to speak For some moments there was deep silence Then a statesman rose and explained the melancholy position to which the king was reduced Maria Teresa had now recovered herself On a cushion before her lay her baby son Joseph afterwards Emperor of Austria The Queen now took him in her arms She held him up to the assembly before her Her face, still wet with tears was beautiful as the moon riding among wet stormy clouds She spoke in Latin the official language of Hungary to this day The kingdom of Hungary, our person, our children, our crowns are at stake She cried to them amidst her sobs Forsaken by all we seek shelter only in the tried fidelity the arms, the well-known valor of the Hungarians The beauty and distress of their unhappy Queen roused every Hungarian to the wildest enthusiasm Each man drew his sword and all cried as with one voice which re-echoed through the lofty hall Our lives, our blood for your majesty we will die for our king Maria Teresa The young Queen burst into tears We wept too, said one of the nobles present but they were tears of pity, admiration and fury From this day matters improved It is true the province of Silesia was lost but through the long wars that characterized the reign other provinces were added to Austria and so the Queen played her difficult part and played it well She was succeeded on the throne by her son Joseph while her youngest daughter, Marie Antoinette became the wife of the French Dauphin of whom we shall hear presently End of chapter 52