Terrible Tsarinas

It is true that, even a few months before, there had been

nothing to suggest that he might meet such a sudden demise. As

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Terrible Tsarinas

usual, the reformist tsar had fallen victim to his own impetuosity.

Diving into the icy waters of the Neva to rescue sailors from a

sinking ship, he contracted the pneumonia that was to carry him

off. The fever very quickly triggered the after-effects of his vene-

real disease, with complications including gangrene, gravel in the

kidneys, and retention of urine. January 28, 1725, after painful

days of delirium, he called for writing materials and, with a trem-

bling hand, traced on the paper the words: “Pass everything on

to. . .” The name of the beneficiary was left blank. The failing fin-

gers were already contracting, and his voice trailed off in a death

rattle. He was gone.

Collapsing at his bedside, his wife Catherine sobbed and

queried the mute, deaf and inert body — in vain. This instantane-

ous bereavement left her both desperate and disabled, weighing

her down with a grief and an empire that were equally crushing.

All around her, every thoughtful person in the realm shared the

same anguish. In reality, despotism is an indispensable drug not

only to the one who exerts it but to those who are subjected to it,

as well. The megalomania of the master is matched by the maso-

chism of the subjects. People who have become accustomed to

the injustices of a policy of force are frightened when it is abruptly

removed. They feel as though the master (whom they had just

been complaining about), in loosening his embrace, has with-

drawn at the same time his protection and his love. Those who

used to quietly criticize the tsar now did not know which foot to

dance on. They even wondered whether this was the time to

“dance” at all, and whether they would “dance” again some day,

after this long wait in the shadow of the tyrannical innovator.

However, life must go on, whatever the cost. While shed-

ding copious tears, Catherine kept sight of her personal interests.

A widow can be sincerely afflicted and at the same time reasona-

bly ambitious. She was quite aware of the times she had wronged

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Catherine Shows the Way

the recently departed, but she had always remained devoted to

him in spite of her many infidelities. No one had known him and

served him better than she throughout the 23 years of their rela-

tionship and marriage. In the struggle for power, she had — if not

dynastic legitimacy — then at least disinterested love going for

her.

Among the dignitaries close to the throne, the bets were al-

ready open. Who would win the crown of Monomakh?1 Within a

few feet of the corpse laid out on the ceremonial bier, they were

whispering, plotting, and proffering one name or another — with-

out daring to declare out loud their own preferences. Some were

partisans of young Peter, ten years old, the son of the poor tsare-

vich Alexis. (Peter the Great had had Alexis tortured to death to

punish him for allegedly having plotted against him.) The mem-

ory of this legal assassination still hovered like smoke over the

Russian court. The coterie loyal to young Peter included the

princes Dmitri Golitsyn, Ivan Dolgoruky, Nikita Repnin, and Bo-

ris Sheremetiev, all displeased with having been persecuted by the

tsar and avid to take their revenge under the new reign. In the

other corner were those known as “Peter the Great’s Fledglings.”

His Majesty’s right-hand men, they were always on the alert to

preserve their prerogatives. At their head stood Alexander Men-

shikov, a former pastry-cook’s helper, a childhood friend and fa-

vorite of the deceased (who had promoted him to Serene Prince),

Ivan Buturlin, a lieutenant-colonel of the Guard, the senator

Count Peter Tolstoy, Grand Chancellor Count Gabriel Golovkin,

and the Lord High Admiral Fyodor Apraxin. To please Peter the

Great, all these high-ranking individuals had signed the High

Court’s verdict condemning to torture, and consequently to death,

his rebellious son Alexis. For Catherine, these men represented a

group of allies of unshakeable fidelity. These “men of progress,”

who were outspokenly hostile toward the retrograde ideas of the

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Terrible Tsarinas

old aristocracy, had no hesitation: only Peter’s widow had the

right and the ability to succeed him.

Of the men who were determined to defend the cause of “the

true guardian of the imperial thought” the most devoted was the

one who had the most to gain — the dashing Alexander Menshi-

kov. He owed his entire career to the tsar’s friendship, and he

counted on the gratitude of the wife to maintain his privileges.

His conviction was so strong that he would not even hear of Peter

the Great’s grandson’s claims to the crown; certainly, he was the

son of the tsarevich Alexis, but nothing, except that coincidence

of family, destined him to such a glorious fate. Similarly, he

shrugged off the pretensions of the daughters of Peter the Great

and Catherine who could, after all, also present their candida-