of her gender, which historically had been relegated to secondary roles. No woman before her had ever been empress of Russia. From time immemorial, the throne of that immense land had been occupied by males, according to the hereditary line of descent. Even after the death of Ivan the Terrible and the confusion that followed, neither the impostor Boris Godunov nor the shaky Fyodor II nor the theory of the false Dmitris that plagued the “Time of Troubles” had changed anything in the monarchical tradition of virility.
It took the extinction of the house of Rurik, the founder of old Russia, for the country to resign itself to having a tsar elected by an assembly of boyars, prelates and dignitaries (the “Sobor”).
Young Mikhail Fyodorovich, the first of the Romanovs, was chosen. After him, imperial power was transmitted without too many clashes for nearly a century. It was only in 1722 that Peter the Great, breaking with tradition, decreed that the sovereign should thenceforth designate an heir however seemed best to him, without regard for the dynastic order. Thus, thanks to this innovator who had already upset his country’s ways from top to bot«10»
Catherine Shows the Way tom, a woman of no birth or political qualification had the same rights as a man to assume the throne. And the first to benefit from this inordinate privilege would be a former servant, a Livonian by origin and a Protestant at that, who became Russian and Orthodox late in the game and whose only claims to glory were acquired in the sack. Is it possible that the hands that had so often washed the dishes, made the beds, bleached the dirty linen and prepared the swill for the army rabble would be the same ones that tomorrow, scented and bearing rings, would sign the ukases upon which hung the future of million subjects, frozen with respect and fear?
Day and night, the idea of this formidable promotion haunted Catherine’s mind. The more she wept, the more she felt like laughing. Official mourning was to go on for forty days. All the ladies of quality vied in prayers and lamentations; Catherine held her own superbly in this contest of s ighing and sobbing. But suddenly, another grief struck her heart. Four weeks after the demise of her husband, while the entire city was preparing his sumptuous funeral, her younger daughter Natalya (six and a half years old) succumbed to measles. This inconspicuous, almost insignificant death, coming on top of the tremendous impact of the death of Peter the Great, fully convinced Catherine that her fate was exceptional, in suffering as well as in success. She immediately decided to bury on the same day the father, wreathed in glory of historic proportions, and the little girl who had never had time to taste the happiness and the constraints of a woman’s life.
Announced by heralds at the four corners of the capital, the double funeral was to take place on March 10, 1725, in the Cathedral of SS Peter and Paul.
All along the route of the procession, the facades of the houses were draped in black. Twelve colonels of high stature bore His Majesty’s imposing coffin, which was sheltered to some extent from the gusts of snow and hail by a canopy of gilt brocade
«11»
Terrible Tsarinas and green velvet. Natalya’s little coffin accompanied it under a canopy of gilt fabric decorated with plumes of red and white feathers. Behind them the priests advanced, preceding a host of sacred banners and icons. Finally came Catherine I, in deep mourning, her gaze lowered. The inevitable Serene Prince Menshikov and the Lord High Admiral Apraxin supported her faltering steps. Her daughters Anna and Elizabeth were escorted by the Grand Chancellor Golovkin, General Repnin and Count Tolstoy. All the highes t dignitaries, the greatest members of the nobility, the most decorated generals, and the foreign princes and diplomats who were visiting the court, followed the cortege, arranged according to seniority, heads bared, treading to the rhythm of funeral music punctuated with drum rolls. The guns thundered, the bells tolled, the wind caught at the wigs of the high and mighty - who had to hold onto them with their hands. After two hours of walking in the cold and the storm, the arrival at the church seemed like a deliverance. The immense cathedral suddenly looked too small to contain this exhausted and tear-stained crowd. And then, in the nave illuminated by thousands of candles, another torment began. The liturgy was crushingly slow.
Catherine called on all her reserves of energy not to weaken.
With equal fervor, she bade farewell to the prestigious husband who had made her a gift of Russia and to the innocent child whom she would never again see smiling as she awoke from sleep.
But, if Natalya’s death wrung her heart like the sight of a bird fallen from the nest, that of Peter exalted her like an invitation to the astonishments of a legendary destiny. Born to be last, she had become first. Whom should she thank for this fortune, God or her husband? Or both, according to the circumstances?
Plunged into this solemn interrogation, she heard the voice of the archbishop of Pskov, Feofan (Theophanes) Prokopovich, pronouncing the funeral oration. “What has befallen us, O men of
«12»
Catherine Shows the Way Russia? What are we seeing? What are we doing? It is Peter the Great whom we are burying!” And, in conclusion, this comforting prophecy: “Russia will go on as he molded it!”
At these words, Catherine raised her head. She had no doubt that, in uttering this sentence, the priest was transmitting a message to her from beyond the tomb. By turns exalted and frightened at the prospect of the days to come, she found herself stifling in the crowd.
But, exiting the church, she found the square looked vaster, emptier, more inhospitable than before. The snow was coming down harder. Even though flanked by her daughters and friends, Catherine felt acutely alone, lost in an unknown land.
It was as though the absence of Peter had paralyzed her. It would take all her courage to face the reality of a Russia with no future and no master.
Terrible Tsarinas
Footnotes
1.
According to legend, Monomakh’s Cap (the oldest crown in the Russian treasury) was a gift from the Byzantine emperor Constantine IX Monomachus to his grandson Vladimir II Monomakh, grand prince of Kiev (1113- 1125).
2. Villebois: Memoires secrets pour servir a l’histoire de la cour de Russie.
3. In the 18th century, Russia was still using the Gregorian calendar, so that this date is 11 days behind the date shown by the Julian calendar cur rently in use.
Catherine I was almos t fifty. She had lived so much, loved so much, laughed so much, drunk so much - but she was never satisfied. Those who knew her during this period of ostentatious pleasure described her as a large, rotund woman, heavily made up, smiling, with a triple chin, a ribald eye and gluttonous lips, garishly dressed, overloaded with jewels and not necessarily entirely clean.
