Stanislaus now reigned in Poland with as much security as was possible to one who owed his elevation to a whim of fortune, and who ruled a country so torn and exhausted by war; he had been recognized by the leading courts of Europe, including that of Dresden, and in this direction at least the ambition of Karl was satisfied.
Among those who came to Altranstadt to endeavor to discover the policy or gain the alliance of the redoubtable conqueror who had just humbled the Empire was a man whose fame as a captain had rivaled that of Karl, though in all save military genius he was different from the Swede.
This was the English general, John, Duke of Marlborough, sent by the English Government to sound Karl on the likelihood of his joining the war of the Spanish Succession, either for or against the allies.
This the Duke, as able a diplomat as he was a soldier, hoped to discover by proposing Karl as a mediator between the allies of France, a design that he thought would flatter the King into disclosing his real intentions.
Karl, who had treated with a cold indifference the other ambassadors and plenipotentiaries who had waited on him, showed some eagerness to meet this man who had never fought a battle that he had not won, nor besieged a town he had not taken, and whose brilliant genius had broken the mighty power of France.
The Duke himself had applied to the Baron Görtz for an audience, and by him and the English minister was taken to Karl’s plain and severe quarters at Leipzig, where he then was.
The King received him in a small room without hangings or carpets, and with no furniture save a few chairs and a table of bare wood; he had with him Count Piper, who looked ill and vexed; the minister was prejudiced against the Englishman because he had applied to Görtz instead of to himself for this audience.
The Duke of Marlborough entered with a light step the poorest royal chamber he had ever seen, and saluted Karl with a courtier’s bow; these two remarkable captains faced each other with a flash of curiosity that for a second obscured all other matters.
The Duke was then nearly sixty years of age, but still of an unusual handsomeness and an infinite grace in his person; he was attired in the extreme of the fashion, black velvet brocade, white satin waistcoat flourished in colored silks, a rich Mechlin cravat and ruffles, a black satin cravat and a diamond buckle, a long curling peruke framing his worn, charming, and vivacious face.