The late King Charles XI, in his severity to his subjects, had not spared the Livonians. He robbed them of their privileges and part of their estates. Patkul, who from his unhappy death has since gained the notoriety of misfortune, was deputed by the nobility of Livonia to lay their grievances before the King. His speech to his master was respectful, but strong and full of the rugged eloquence begotten of calamity and courage. But kings too often regard public speeches as vain ceremonies, which they must endure without paying attention to. But Charles XI, who, when he did not give way to transports of rage, knew how to act a part, patted Patkul gently on the shoulder and said, “You have spoken for your country like a brave man; I honour you for it. Proceed.” But a few days after he had Patkul declared guilty of high treason and condemned to death. Patkul, who had hidden, took to flight, and carried his resentment to Poland. Some time after he was admitted to the court of King Augustus. Charles XI was dead, but the sentence of Patkul was not annulled, and he was still most resentful. He pointed out to the King of Poland how easily Livonia could be conquered; the people were in despair, and eager to shake off the Swedish yoke; the King was only a child, and unable to defend himself. These proposals were well received by a prince who had long meditated this conquest. Preparations were immediately made for a sudden invasion of Sweden, empty formalities of ultimata and manifestoes being dispensed with. At the same time the storm darkened on the Russian frontier. Peter Alexiowitz, Czar of Russia, had already made his name feared by the battle in which he defeated the Turks in 1697, and by the conquest of Azov, which gave him the control of the Black Sea. But the actions which won him the title of “The Great” were far more glorious than conquests. Russia occupies the whole of Northern Asia and Europe, and from the frontiers of China extends 1,500 leagues to the borders of Poland and Sweden. Yet the existence of this immense country was not even realized by Europe before the time of the Czar Peter. The Russians were less civilized than the Mexicans at the time of their discovery by Cortez; born the slaves of masters as barbarous as themselves, they were sunk deep in ignorance, and unacquainted with the arts and sciences, and so insensible of their use that they had no industry. An old law, held sacred among them, forbade them, on pain of death, to leave their own country without the permission of their Patriarch. Yet this law, avowedly enacted to prevent them from realizing their state of bondage, was agreeable to a people who, in the depths of their ignorance and misery, disdained all commerce with foreign nations.