Some had specific pleas or propositions. Louis XIV's ambassador proposed uniting the Swedish army with that of France's Marshal Villiers. This would tip the balance in Germany; afterward, France and Sweden could divide up the German states between themselves. The Protestants of Silesia solicited Charles to remain in Germany as their protector against the Catholic Emperor. (By a threat to march against Vienna, Charles did win for the Silesians the right to reopen their Lutheran churches; indeed, the Emperor Joseph said that he was lucky that the King of Sweden had not demanded that he become a Lutheran himself.) But of all the visitors who made their way to Charles' castle in Saxony, the most famous was John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, the central figure, both militarily and politically, in the allied coalition against the Sun King.
When Charles first entered Saxony, the Duke expressed alarm that the impetuous young King and his antagonism toward the Hapsburg empire could upset the delicate balance of Catholic and Protestant powers arrayed against Louis XIV's bid for European hegemony. The English minister in Charles' camp, John Robin
son, had forwarded to London a gloomy prediction as to what role a victorious Charles might play as arbiter of Europe. "That he will favor the allies is very uncertain," wrote Robinson. "That he will force them to a disadvantageous peace is not improbable, that he will act against them is possible, and if he so does ... we must suffer what he pleases. For supposing the war in Poland and Muscovy at an end, neither the Emperor, Denmark, Prussia, nor any Prince or state in Germany will dare to appear against him. All will yield to his will and England and Holland must do so too or stand alone."
Marlborough understood that the volatile Charles would have to be handled with extreme caution. Immediately after the King's invasion of Saxony, the Duke wrote to his Dutch allies, "Whenever the States [General of Holland] or England write to the King of Sweden, there must be care taken that there be no threat in the letter, for the King of Sweden is of a very particular humor." Handling Charles would require great care and discretion as well as a nose for diplomacy and intelligence, and Marlborough proposed that he himself go to see the King. Marlborough's offer was gratefully received, and on April 20, 1707, Marlborough set off in his coach from The Hague across Germany to Altranstadt. As Marlborough, despite his towering reputation, was not a monarch, his first contact in Altranstadt was to be not with the King but with Count Piper, Charles' senior civilian advisor and de facto prime minister. When the Englishman arrived, Piper sent word that he was busy and kept Marlborough waiting in his coach for half an hour before walking down the steps to receive Queen Anne's ambassador. Marlborough was equal to the game. As the Swede came forward, the Duke stepped from his coach, put on his hat and walked past Piper without acknowledging his presence. A few feet away, with his back to the Count, the Duke peacefully urinated against a wall while Piper was left to wait. Then the Duke adjusted his dress and greeted Piper in courtly fashion, and, equality restored, together they entered the building for an hour's conversation.
The following moming, at a little after ten. the Duke called on the King. Here were the two greatest military commanders of the age: Marlborough was fifty-seven, pink-faced, and formally dressed with the blue sash and star of the Order of the Garter on his brilliant scarlet coat; Charles was twenty-five, his face darkened by sun and wind, in his customary blue coat, big boots and wearing his long sword. The two men talked for two hours until "twelve trumpets called the King to vespers," with Marlborough speaking French, which Charles understood but did not speak, and Robinson, who had served as English minister to Sweden for thirty years, translating when necessary. Marlborough presented the King with a letter from Queen Anne, written, in her words, "not from her chancery but from her heart." Marlborough elaborated: "Had her sex not prevented it, she would have crossed the sea to visit a prince admired by the whole universe. I [Marlborough himself] am in this particular more happy than the Queen, and I wish I could serve in some campaign under so great a campaigner that I might learn what I yet want to know in the art of war." Charles was not so pleased by this flattery that he did not subsequently remark that he thought Marlborough overdressed for a soldier and his language a bit overdone.
During his two-day visit to the Swedish camp, Marlborough made no formal proposals. He simply tried to ascertain the intentions of the King and the feelings of the army. Knowing Charles' concern for the welfare of German Protestants, the Duke professed the warmest sympathy of England for this cause, but also expressed England's concern that it not be pressed against the Catholic Emperor until conclusion of the war with the more dangerous Catholic enemy, Louis XIV of France. The visitor discreetly scouted the Swedish army, noting its minimum amount of artillery and its lack of the hospital service which his own forces considered normal. He heard enough talk to conclude that a Swedish campaign against Russia was certain and that the Swedish officers expected it to be difficult and to last at least two years. Marlborough left Altranstadt relieved and pleased with his mission: "I hope that it [the visit] had entirely defeated the expectations that the French court had from the King of Sweden."
In 1707, on the eve of his greatest adventure, the triumphant King was a different man from the eighteen-year-old youth who had sailed across the Baltic to confront his enemies more than seven years before. Charles' body still looked youthful—he was five feet nine inches tall, with slim hips rising into broad shoulders—but his face had aged considerably. Long, egg-shaped and pockmarked, it now was permanently tanned and creased by tiny squint lines. The deep-blue eyes were calmer and more quizzical; on the full lips played a constant, knowing smile as he gazed at the world around him. He wore neither beard nor mustache nor wig; his brownish-auburn hair, cut short, was brushed upward over his increasing baldness.
Charles took as few pains with his dress as with his person. His uniform was.simple: plain dark-blue coat with high collar and brass buttons, yellow vest and yellow breeches, largely covered by thick leather riding boots with high heels, long spurs and long flaps at the knees which came over the knee and halfway up the thigh. In addition, he wore a black taffeta cravat wound several times around his neck, large, heavy deerskin gloves with broad cuffs and an outsized Swedish sword. He rarely wore his broad three-cornered hat; in summer, his hair was bleached by the sun; in fall and winter, rain and snow fell directly on his head. In cold weather, Charles threw an ordinary cavalry cape around his shoulders. Never, even in the heat of battle, did he wear a breastplate to deflect bullet, pike or saber. On campaign, Charles often remained in these clothes for days, sleeping in them on a mattress, a heap of straw or a bare plank. Stripping off his boots, laying his sword nearby where he could reach it in the dark, wrapping himself in his cloak, he read before going to sleep from a gold-embossed Bible which he always carried with him until he lost it at Poltava, and never slept more than five or six hours.