Catherine the Great has several separate entries and numerous references to her in this book, which comes as no surprise, of course. Not so her royal husband, which is no surprise either. This entry, however, brings them together, as befits a married couple, but an odd couple, at that. Whereas the great Catherine is great by all standards, her husband has been portrayed as a degenerate, Russia-hating pervert obsessed with Prussian military discipline, crude fun, and childish games. There has been another opinion of him creeping out of the woodwork of more recent historiography, but it has to compete with the authoritative opinion of the likes of Klyuchevsky and, of course, Catherine’s own depiction of him in her celebrated and, even though admittedly biased, still definitive memoir.
I grant that it will be rather naïve to accept as Gospel truth the following assertion from Catherine’s memoir, attempting to confirm the legitimacy of her assumption of power, as opposed to usurping power in a palace coup:
“During the illness of Elizaveta Petrovna, I heard that her successor is feared by all; that he is unloved and unrespected by all; that the Empress herself complains about who the throne should be entrusted to; that a definite inclination is found in her to disinherit the incapable heir who had caused her herself grief, and to pick his seven-year-old son [that is Catherine’s son and future Emperor Pavel I Petrovich] and to me [that is to Catherine!] leave the government…”
Klyuchevsky, highly unsympathetic to Peter III, gives this virtual justification of the subsequent palace coup (please note that it was quite exceptional in Tsarist Russia to talk favorably about coups and revolutions that by definition implied violence against the ruling power, and thus anathema!)---
“Society saw in the government’s action mischief and caprice, an absence of unified thought and clear-cut direction. It was obvious to all that the government mechanism was in disarray. All this caused unanimous discontent, which was spilling from the highest spheres down, becoming all-popular. Tongues were untied, as if fearless of the policeman; in the streets discontent was expressed openly and loudly, denouncing the sovereign without any circumspection whatsoever.”
I shall not quote any more critical and often vicious details regarding Peter III. Today’s historians are trying to restore some balance to his portrait, claiming that he was not an idiot, but a well-educated and splendidly accomplished man, who loved music and played the violin pretty well, was a patron of the theater and of the arts. His domestic reforms reached well beyond the Prussification of the Russian army (which, many would argue, could not be such a bad thing, considering that the Prussian army could well have been the best in the world). His sponsorship of Russian sciences, and especially of Russian cartography, which performed a giant leap on his watch, speaks rather well of him, too, if only we are prepared to take just these pluses in isolation from the great multitude of minuses.
But, on the other hand, his pro-Prussian leaning was indeed excessive. Most importantly, he was a foreigner in a foreign land, and had no love for Russia. It is not a biased view, but an objective recorded fact that when in 1751 (a decade before Peter became Russia’s Emperor) his uncle ascended the throne of Sweden, Peter openly and bitterly complained:
“They’ve dragged me into this wretched Russia, where I must consider myself a state prisoner, when, had I been left alone, I would now have been sitting on the throne of a civilized people!”
To be honest, I can well understand, and even sympathize with, poor Peter. Imagine a frustrated young man who could now well have been the legitimate monarch of a very respectable country, being, in the meantime, relentlessly put down by the two women in his life: the all powerful Empress of Russia, deeply disappointed in her erstwhile protégé, and his own betrothed wife, looking more than slantwise, and certainly wishing him ill. Having said that, this was Karl Peter Ulrich von Holstein-Gottorp, alias the future Peter III Fedorovich of Russia, speaking, and not some wicked tongues biased against him. Not surprisingly, the Empress Elizaveta Petrovna was keeping him under virtual house arrest at that time, even if she would repent of it later. And it is also true that Elizaveta Petrovna’s definite bias against her own chosen successor cannot be dismissively separated from Catherine’s bias against her husband, later on; and, likewise, the 1762 palace coup disposing of Peter and installing Empress Catherine II on the Russian throne, cannot be seen as a mere result of some royal love “quadrangles,” or lovers’ ambitions turning gory. In Peter’s case, there had to be much more than that, and there surely was.
In my general opinion, I am not swayed by the revisionist reassessments of Peter III. On the one hand, there are too many objective negatives in his character and proclivities, to give in to a historian’s will to revision, just for the sake of originality or balance. On the other hand, I firmly believe that Catherine the Great was a far-far better alternative for Russia, and having Peter III on the throne instead of her, after 1762, would have been a calamity, whereas her enlightened autocratic reign was a blessing. There is too much to be said about her that actually need not be said, because Catherine has always been a large part of Russia’s “monumental history,” which means that it is impossible to talk about Russia without talking about her, as an integral part of Russian history, tradition, and culture. Concluding this entry, I may quote Catherine’s own quirky epitaph to herself written in 1788, that is, eight full years before her actual death. By the time of her death she would spend over half-a-century in her adoptive country, and her reign would become known as the “Golden Age” of Russian history. Read it carefully.---
“Catherine The Second rests here, born in Stettin on 21st April, 1729. She spent 44 years in Russia (written in 1788) and there married Peter III. At the age of 14 she devised a three-prong plan: to please her husband, Empress Elizabeth, and the people of Russia. And she used every single chance to succeed in this. Eighteen years of boredom and loneliness made her read many books. As she ascended the Russian throne, she strove to do good, desired to give her subjects happiness, freedom, and property. She forgave easily, and hated no one. She was charitable, easygoing in life, cheerful by nature, with the soul of a republican and a kind heart. She had friends. Work came easy to her. She took pleasure in social life and the arts.”
The only thing now left to me, is, in the spirit of this rather light-hearted epitaph, to say “amen” with a faint, but totally sincere, smile.
I grant that it will be rather naïve to accept as Gospel truth the following assertion from Catherine’s memoir, attempting to confirm the legitimacy of her assumption of power, as opposed to usurping power in a palace coup:
“During the illness of Elizaveta Petrovna, I heard that her successor is feared by all; that he is unloved and unrespected by all; that the Empress herself complains about who the throne should be entrusted to; that a definite inclination is found in her to disinherit the incapable heir who had caused her herself grief, and to pick his seven-year-old son [that is Catherine’s son and future Emperor Pavel I Petrovich] and to me [that is to Catherine!] leave the government…”
Klyuchevsky, highly unsympathetic to Peter III, gives this virtual justification of the subsequent palace coup (please note that it was quite exceptional in Tsarist Russia to talk favorably about coups and revolutions that by definition implied violence against the ruling power, and thus anathema!)---
“Society saw in the government’s action mischief and caprice, an absence of unified thought and clear-cut direction. It was obvious to all that the government mechanism was in disarray. All this caused unanimous discontent, which was spilling from the highest spheres down, becoming all-popular. Tongues were untied, as if fearless of the policeman; in the streets discontent was expressed openly and loudly, denouncing the sovereign without any circumspection whatsoever.”
I shall not quote any more critical and often vicious details regarding Peter III. Today’s historians are trying to restore some balance to his portrait, claiming that he was not an idiot, but a well-educated and splendidly accomplished man, who loved music and played the violin pretty well, was a patron of the theater and of the arts. His domestic reforms reached well beyond the Prussification of the Russian army (which, many would argue, could not be such a bad thing, considering that the Prussian army could well have been the best in the world). His sponsorship of Russian sciences, and especially of Russian cartography, which performed a giant leap on his watch, speaks rather well of him, too, if only we are prepared to take just these pluses in isolation from the great multitude of minuses.
But, on the other hand, his pro-Prussian leaning was indeed excessive. Most importantly, he was a foreigner in a foreign land, and had no love for Russia. It is not a biased view, but an objective recorded fact that when in 1751 (a decade before Peter became Russia’s Emperor) his uncle ascended the throne of Sweden, Peter openly and bitterly complained:
“They’ve dragged me into this wretched Russia, where I must consider myself a state prisoner, when, had I been left alone, I would now have been sitting on the throne of a civilized people!”
To be honest, I can well understand, and even sympathize with, poor Peter. Imagine a frustrated young man who could now well have been the legitimate monarch of a very respectable country, being, in the meantime, relentlessly put down by the two women in his life: the all powerful Empress of Russia, deeply disappointed in her erstwhile protégé, and his own betrothed wife, looking more than slantwise, and certainly wishing him ill. Having said that, this was Karl Peter Ulrich von Holstein-Gottorp, alias the future Peter III Fedorovich of Russia, speaking, and not some wicked tongues biased against him. Not surprisingly, the Empress Elizaveta Petrovna was keeping him under virtual house arrest at that time, even if she would repent of it later. And it is also true that Elizaveta Petrovna’s definite bias against her own chosen successor cannot be dismissively separated from Catherine’s bias against her husband, later on; and, likewise, the 1762 palace coup disposing of Peter and installing Empress Catherine II on the Russian throne, cannot be seen as a mere result of some royal love “quadrangles,” or lovers’ ambitions turning gory. In Peter’s case, there had to be much more than that, and there surely was.
In my general opinion, I am not swayed by the revisionist reassessments of Peter III. On the one hand, there are too many objective negatives in his character and proclivities, to give in to a historian’s will to revision, just for the sake of originality or balance. On the other hand, I firmly believe that Catherine the Great was a far-far better alternative for Russia, and having Peter III on the throne instead of her, after 1762, would have been a calamity, whereas her enlightened autocratic reign was a blessing. There is too much to be said about her that actually need not be said, because Catherine has always been a large part of Russia’s “monumental history,” which means that it is impossible to talk about Russia without talking about her, as an integral part of Russian history, tradition, and culture. Concluding this entry, I may quote Catherine’s own quirky epitaph to herself written in 1788, that is, eight full years before her actual death. By the time of her death she would spend over half-a-century in her adoptive country, and her reign would become known as the “Golden Age” of Russian history. Read it carefully.---
“Catherine The Second rests here, born in Stettin on 21st April, 1729. She spent 44 years in Russia (written in 1788) and there married Peter III. At the age of 14 she devised a three-prong plan: to please her husband, Empress Elizabeth, and the people of Russia. And she used every single chance to succeed in this. Eighteen years of boredom and loneliness made her read many books. As she ascended the Russian throne, she strove to do good, desired to give her subjects happiness, freedom, and property. She forgave easily, and hated no one. She was charitable, easygoing in life, cheerful by nature, with the soul of a republican and a kind heart. She had friends. Work came easy to her. She took pleasure in social life and the arts.”
The only thing now left to me, is, in the spirit of this rather light-hearted epitaph, to say “amen” with a faint, but totally sincere, smile.
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