Great Catherine

by Erickson, Carolly, 1943-

  Seeing Orlov must have raised Catherine's excited spirits, for from the start he had been the heart and soul of the plot to depose the emperor. He had undertaken to ensure the support of the soldiers; his force of personality had been the catalyst that hardened the men's dissatisfaction with Peter into rebellion. With bribes, promises of drink, well-timed displays of bonhomie he had brought the wavering to heel while distracting the emperor's spies and keeping vital information from reaching them. "Everything was done by him in this enterprise," Catherine would later write of Gregory Orlov. He was her harbinger, her lover, her champion. She got into the coach beside him and the coachman cracked his whip.

  Orlov had planned Catherine's entrance into the city with care. They drove first to the wooden barracks of the Ismailovsky regiment, where many of the men and ten of the officers had previously pledged themselves to support Catherine. His rousing speeches, supplemented by generous gifts of money and barrels of free vodka ensured that few of the men would resist the bold move to enthrone Catherine. Telling Catherine to wait, Orlov jumped down from the carriage and strode into the guardroom where a few yawning men were gathered. He found a drummer and ordered him to beat a tattoo. Immediately the men began to rush out, in disarray, many only half dressed, to answer the call to arms.

  At a signal from Orlov Catherine descended from the carriage to stand before the scrambling guardsmen, whose eyes widened at the sight of her, a lovely, regal figure in an unadorned black dress, her rich brown hair unpowdered and coiled simply off her face. The men had heard the story of the emperor's threat to arrest his wife, they knew before she spoke to them that she was in danger.

  "Matushka, Little Mother!" they cried out, sweeping toward her en masse to kiss her hands and feet. Some wept, others bowed or knelt in reverence, content to kiss the dusty skirt of her plain gown.

  As more and more men poured from the barracks a few of the officers shouted for Paul and a regency, and a few more may have hesitated, thinking of the oath they had sworn to uphold their emperor and remembering that Peter, not Catherine, had been the choice of their late beloved Empress Elizabeth. But in the end all hesitation melted in the onrush of chivalrous emotion that greeted Catherine's appearance. The surge of feeling was redoubled when the regimental commander, Kiril Razumovsky, gave his endorsement to Catherine's claim to the throne and when the barracks priest, Father Alexei, administered an oath of fidelity to the assembled men.

  Shouting, chanting, exhorting the onlookers who had begun to gather in the vicinity of the barracks, the guardsmen formed a procession behind Catherine's carriage as she rode on to the quarters of the Semenovsky regiment. Word of her coming preceded her; the men of the Semenovsky, elated at the prospect of ridding themselves of the emperor they detested and of rescuing their heroine Catherine from her peril, and with the enthusiastic backing of at least a dozen of their officers, ran forward along the road to meet her carriage and proclaim their allegiance to her.

  By this time it was nearly nine o'clock and the capital was not only awake but alive with excitement. Soldiers from other barracks hurried to join the lengthening procession of supporters marching behind the imperial carriage, discarding the Prussian-style uniforms Peter had forced them to wear and putting on their Russian uniforms. Priests, troubled by recent reports that Peter had adopted the Lutheran rite in his palace chapel and greatly agitated by the emperor's order to remove the icons of the saints, gladly received the news that they were no longer to be ruled by an emperor but by the Empress Catherine. Rumors flew. Some said that Peter had died, and that Catherine was succeeding him. Others whispered that Peter had sold the Russian army to the king of Prussia, and that the soldiers had decided to dethrone him in consequence.

  Meanwhile, men from the recently disbanded imperial bodyguard, many of whom had helped to put Elizabeth on the throne twenty-one years earlier, joined the growing crowd, as did the Horse Guards, riding in full order, with their officers at their head, and shouting in a fury of joy that Russia had been delivered. The surging crowd grew in numbers, cries of "Vivat!" filling the moist morning air. Now thousands of soldiers, riding and on foot, followed the vehicle in which Catherine and Orlov rode, with Father Alexei leading the long procession carrying his tall silver cross.

  It soon became apparent that neither the police nor Peter's loyal Holsteiners—who were still at Oranienbaum, several hours' distance from the capital—nor any members of the emperor's government were going to contest the toppling of the regime. Catherine had been assured that the Grand Master of the Ordnance, General de Villebois, was on her side; he would guarantee that none of the artillery corps would fire on the rebels. As for the members of the Senate, in nominal control of the capital in the emperor's absence, they had long been opposed to Peter's radical changes and bumptious bullying; during his few months in power he had arrogated to himself many of their cherished prerogatives and had only recently affronted the senators by prohibiting them from issuing any decrees whatsoever without his prior approval. They were only too glad to see the end of him. The entire government capitulated without a whimper of resistance.

  Only in the proud Preobrazhensky regiment, oldest and most respected of the guards regiments, were there pockets of defiance. As the men of the Preobrazhensky, heedless of their orders, rushed out of their barracks to join Catherine's partisan horde a few of their officers tried to stop them. There was the beginning of a skirmish between the men loyal to Catherine and those attempting in vain to defend Peter's cause, but before any blood could be shed the emperor's defenders surrendered and swore allegiance to Catherine, turning on their officers. One young musketeer recalled later having watched a mounted officer in the grenadiers charge his own men, flailing at them with his sword, before he was overwhelmed and forced to flee for his life. But the few contrarians, stubbornly faithful to their emperor, were soon subdued and arrested by what had swiftly become the legitimate power—made legitimate, in the judgment of those who took part in the maelstrom of events, by the tumultuous acclamation of the soldiers, the citizenry and the will of heaven.

  With amazed speed the regiments secured the palace, where the senators had incarcerated themselves, waiting to see the outcome of Catherine's bid for power, and prepared to defend the city against a possible assault from outside forces still loyal to the emperor. Meanwhile Catherine hastened to legitimize her takeover by receiving the sanction of the church. She entered the cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan, flanked by a phalanx of officers, and there, in the presence of a large congregation of witnesses, and under the eyes of the holy icons, she was proclaimed "autocratrix," empress, and blessed by the Metropolitan of Petersburg. Panin had brought Paul to the cathedral to stand beside his mother. As incense wafted and bells pealed, the seven-year-old boy was blessed as Catherine's designated heir.

  The popular delirium that greeted the new empress as she emerged from the perfumed darkness of the cathedral exceeded anything seen in the capital in decades. The bad dream of Peter's capricious rule was ended. A new and benign mistress reigned. Bells pealed ceaselessly. Word spread throughout the city that momentous events were taking place. Breathless servants rushed in to tell their masters that, in less time than it took to eat breakfast, the emperor had been overthrown. His wife now ruled in his stead.

  In the neighborhoods farthest from the palace—which remained the scene of wild rejoicing—the news was accepted gladly and on the whole calmly. No tumult or agitation swept along the broad avenues; indeed the only sign of change was that pickets appeared on every bridge and street corner, and cavalry patrols trotted efficiently along at regular intervals, to ensure that tranquility continued to prevail.

  The only damage was done at the mansion of Catherine's Uncle Georg, commander of the Horse Guards and detested by his men. Georg had tried to leave Petersburg, no doubt on his way to join the emperor at Oranienbaum, and had been arrested. His captors mistreated him; vengeful elements in the crowd, eager to vent their resentments, ransacked the fine house Pet
er had given him and destroyed its expensive contents. Knowing that her uncle might be in danger, Catherine sent out a rescue party to save him, but it arrived too late to prevent harm.

  Without pausing to savor her triumph, Catherine went to the Winter Palace where the Senate and the leading churchmen were, along with Panin. There her official manifesto was issued, and its stirring words were read out to the waiting crowd.

  "We, by the Grace of God, Catherine the Second, Empress and Autocrat of all the Russias," it began—the first time the sonorous title had been applied to the German princess who had been christened Sophia of Anhalt-Zerbst.

  "All loyal-hearted sons of the Russian Fatherland have clearly perceived the danger that threatened the Empire of Russia. The security of our Orthodox Greek Church has been put in danger

  through disrespect for our venerable forms of worship, and even threatened with being forced to conform to another creed. Our sublime Russia has been betrayed, her dearly bought prizes of war taken from her and her neck brought under the yoke of her ancient enemy—and for what? In order to agree to inglorious peace terms." The document went on to denounce the ruined state of Russia's governing institutions, which threatened the country's unity and well-being.

  "For these reasons, because of the danger imperiling all our loyal subjects," the manifesto concluded, "we believed ourselves under obligation, with God's help and guided by His justice, and prompted by the evident and sincere desire of our faithful subjects, to ascend the sovereign throne of all the Russias, upon which all our loyal subjects have sworn their allegiance to us."

  Catherine was the defender of Russia and the Russians, her declaration announced. What Peter had been destroying, she would restore. It was as a deliverer that she claimed the crown, not as the bearer of any hereditary rights, or legal prerogatives. In truth, Catherine was defying blood rights and ignoring the law in taking her action; all that she did rested on her publicly stated pledge to fulfill the role of savior of the realm.

  No one realized this more clearly than the new empress herself. After reviewing her troops, more than forty thousand men in all, including guardsmen and soldiers of country regiments who were hastening to align themselves with the rest of the capital's soldiery, Catherine shut herself in the Winter Palace with her councillors to decide on her next course of action. She sent messengers to every provincial district with copies of her manifesto, and sent Admiral Taliesin to the naval base at Kronstadt to secure the loyalty of the navy. At the same time, she ordered the metropolitan to deliver to the palace the sacred symbols of monarchy—the crown, scepter and holy books—knowing their iconic value to her subjects and in acknowledgment of the fact that she would need to consolidate her accession by being crowned in the near future.

  Couriers rode in and out of the palace courtyard all afternoon, bringing news from Peterhof and from every quarter of the capital, carrying directives destined for provincial governors and garrison commanders, relaying messages to and from diplomats and other officials. At the hub of the activity, Catherine and her advisers gave orders, wrote instructions, sorted through the messages, and formulated a strategy. She would go herself to Peterhof, supported by her army, and subdue whatever resistance Peter offered. If all went as they hoped, he would be taken prisoner, and confined in the fortress of Schlusselburg, where Ivan languished. Only when Peter was locked away and under guard would Catherine begin to feel safe.

  Late in the afternoon Chancellor Vorontzov arrived from Peterhof, the first member of Peter's inner circle to approach Catherine in her newly claimed role as empress. The soldiers allowed him to enter the city unimpeded, and escorted him to the palace. Once inside, confronting the woman who had been his political enemy for years, the woman who now held the capital under her authority, he showed no fear; disregarding Catherine as anything other than the emperor's rebellious wife, he chastised her. Without responding Catherine ordered Vorontzov to be led away to the cathedral, where under duress he swore his allegiance to her.

  A more sinister pair of envoys arrived shortly afterward. Prince Trubetskoy and Alexander Shuvalov, Peter's trusted deputies, had been sent to investigate a troubling rumor reaching Peterhof that the Preobrazhensky regiment had mutinied in support of Catherine. Catherine herself believed that the two men had been given secret orders to kill her. Before they had a chance to make any mischief both men were led away to the cathedral and forced to swear the oath of allegiance to the empress.

  Evening came, the bright midsummer twilight settled over Petersburg. Soldiers stationed throughout the city since mid-morning yawned at their posts, still vigilant yet weary. The townspeople, more jubilant than ever over Catherine's triumph,

  had invaded the taverns and quickly sated themselves on beer and vodka. Most of the resulting unruliness was good humored, though as the night wore on fights broke out among the drunken revelers and there were outbreaks of vandalism. No police were to be seen; the police chief, Baron Korff, had been arrested despite his being a partisan of Catherine's, and though he was soon released he stayed aloof from the goings-on in the streets.

  Catherine, no doubt yawning and weary herself, yet nerved by excitement and an occasional frisson of fear, prepared herself to face the next phase of her great undertaking. Borrowing a uniform, she put on the bright green and red coat of a colonel in the Preobrazhensky regiment, and received a deafening acclamation from the men as she rode out to meet them on her white horse, high black boots covering her legs and a gold-braided, fur-trimmed black tricorn on her head. She rode well, and held herself majestically. She was a splendid sight, youthful and erect in the saddle, the trappings of her horse glinting dully in the eerie half-light, her face pale yet resolute. For the second time that day the soldiers wept and cheered themselves hoarse at the sight of her, moved almost beyond speech by the poignant contrast between her womanly body and her stalwart, warlike dress and pose.

  Catherine led the rearguard. With her rode Princess Dashkov, also in a guardsman's uniform, and an escort of officers. Included in Catherine's escort were the two men who had come to kill her, Count Shuvalov and Prince Trubetskoy. In a matter of hours both men had turned definitively against their old master, convinced, from all that they had seen and heard in the capital, that his cause was lost.

  The army filed slowly out of the city along the road that led northwestward toward Peterhof. Late as it was, people came out of their houses to cheer the soldiers along, and to shout "Vivat!" for Catherine. Once they left the outskirts behind, however, there was no sound but the clopping of hooves and the rasp of metal on metal. Deeply weary, for four hours the host rode on through the crepuscular light, until, drooping with fatigue, they came to an inn and made bivouac until dawn.

  Peter, meanwhile, had spent much of the long day of June 28 reacting to ever more troubling news.

  The day had begun well. After a lazy morning he had ridden from Peterhof to Oranienbaum with a party of courtiers, including Elizabeth Vorontzov, the Prussian ambassador Baron Goltz, and several dozen women. He was in a buoyant mood; the party was carefree, and he looked forward to leaving in two days for Denmark, where he expected to show his mettle as a commander and win military glory.

  The carriage had not yet reached the grounds of Oranienbaum when one of Peter's military aides, who had been sent on ahead, rode up with a disquieting report. Catherine had mysteriously disappeared. None of the servants knew where she was. Peter's irritation flared. Angrily he turned the women out of the coach and drove on in haste to Mon Plaisir, striding in through the same door Alexis Orlov had entered a scant eight hours earlier and demanding to know where the servants had hidden Catherine. With a fine display of indignation he stormed through the house, throwing open every cupboard and looking behind every hanging, sending the servants flying in fear. In vain he shouted his wife's name over and over, as if in conjuring her he could evoke her elusive ghost. But she was nowhere to be found, and by the time his companions reached the house he had all but given up.

&n
bsp; "What did I tell you!" he said to Elizabeth Vorontzov. "The woman is capable of anything!"

  For the next several hours Peter contemplated with mounting apprehension just what Catherine was capable of. A Holsteiner who by chance had been in the city when Catherine was proclaimed and who managed to leave before the roads were cordoned off brought word of the tumult in Petersburg. Stunned, then angered by his wife's betrayal, Peter at first assumed that what was facing his government was nothing worse than a brief commotion, with brawling in the streets and scuffling in the taverns. As for Catherine's absurd self-aggrandizement in naming herself empress, he could not believe that his subjects would give it more than passing attention.

  Ignoring the alarm of his courtiers, who were clearly much more distressed about the situation than he was, Peter called for his secretaries and set them to work writing out scathing accusations against Catherine and condemning everything she had done. He authorized his chancellor, along with Alexander Shuvalov and Prince Trubetskoy, to go to the capital and to use either persuasion or force to remove Catherine from the scene. He sent messengers to Petersburg to find out what was happening there, and to deliver orders to the guards regiments to march at once to Oranienbaum to join him and defend his court. He ignored the advice of the Prussian ambassador, who suggested that he drop everything and ride as fast as he could toward Finland.

  He dispatched a rider to Peterhof to summon the Holsteiners to Oranienbaum in his name, ordering them to bring their artillery. If Catherine should be foolish enough to try to beseige him in the palace, then so be it. She would find out what his troops were made of.

  While he waited for his messengers to return from Petersburg and for the guards regiments to arrive in response to his summons, Peter busied himself planning how he would array his defenses. Earlier in the day he had brushed aside the advice of the aged General Munnich, a seasoned and shrewd judge of palace revolutions, who strongly urged him to ride to the capital with a military escort and confront the rebels in person. Now he dallied in following another of Miinnich's sensible suggestions: that he take refuge in the strongly fortified island of Kronstadt, just across the water from Oranienbaum, where he would have the protection not only of several thousands of troops but of the entire Russian fleet.