CHAPTER XVI

ASSASSINATION OF PETER THE THIRD OF RUSSIA

(July 17, 1762)

In a previous chapter we have told the story, full of horror and crime, of the life of Ivan the Terrible of Russia. It was not one famous assassination which placed that life-story in this series of historical murders; it was an uninterrupted, long-continued succession of butcheries and assassinations which entitled it to this place. In the long line of historical characters extending through the ages there is not one who so fully deserves the designation of a wholesale assassin as Ivan the Terrible, the demon of the North. But strange to say, the Russians, who during his lifetime execrated him and fled from him as from contagion, to-day seem to have forgotten his iniquities, and place him among their great rulers. Let Karamsin, one of the few great historians Russia has produced, explain this seeming anomaly: “Such was the Czar! Such were his subjects! Their patience was boundless, for they regarded the commands of the Czar as the commands of God, and they considered every act of disobedience to the Czar’s will as a rebellion against the will of God. They perished, but they saved for us, the Russians of the nineteenth century, the greatness and the power of Russia, for the strength of an empire rests in the willingness of an empire to obey.” Words like these make us comprehend--what otherwise would be utterly incomprehensible to us--that a monster like Ivan the Terrible was permitted to continue his career of crime and murder until it was terminated by death brought on by disease and not by violence.

The history of Russia, after the death of Ivan the Terrible, is full of crimes and assassinations. Czars and heirs to the crown were ruthlessly murdered in order to make way for usurpers and pretenders, until these again fell victims to conspiracies. The most famous of these assassinations is that of Peter the Third, not only because it was carried out in the interest of his own wife, the Empress Catherine, but mainly perhaps because Russia, at that time,--1762--had already entered the list of great European powers. Peter the Third was the son of Charles Frederick, Duke of Holstein-Gottorp, and of the Grand-Duchess Anna of Russia, oldest daughter of Peter the Great. As such, young Peter had even a better right to the crown of Russia than the Empress Elizabeth, who was a younger daughter of Peter the Great; and it was Elizabeth herself who, in 1742, sent for Peter--then a boy at school in Germany--and declared him her heir and successor to the crown.

Peter was then only fifteen years of age. His education until then had been designed to fit him for the throne of Denmark and Sweden, upon which his father had a just claim; but preferring the prospect of sitting on the throne of the Czars, he went to St. Petersburg. The Empress spared no pains to educate her nephew for the high and difficult task which was in store for him as the future ruler of Russia. But it was in vain that she tried to make a Russian of him; he remained not only at heart, but also in his tastes, his manners, his conduct, his amusements and occupations a German; and what was worse, he liked to show publicly and privately how strongly attached he was to the land of his birth, and how profoundly he despised the people of Russia, over whom he was to rule. In a foreign-born crown-prince such a disposition would have been a serious political mistake under all circumstances, but it was especially so in this case, since Russia had been engaged, for years, in war with Frederick the Great of Prussia, and had made great sacrifices in men and treasures to conquer him and to cripple his growing power and influence in Europe.

Elizabeth hated Frederick the Great with the passion of a woman offended in her vanity. He had said of her: “She is as ugly as a cat and as treacherous; the very thought of her makes me sick.” The hatred of the Empress did not prevent the Crown Prince from openly expressing his unbounded admiration for the Prussian King. True, Peter was mentally too insignificant to comprehend the real greatness and genius of Frederick; but he admired the strict discipline, the rigid training, the incessant military exercises, the severe punishments for the slightest infraction of the rules and the least symptom of insubordination,--in short, all the outward and visible work in the preparation of a model army; and the Prussian army had become the model of Europe since the days of King Frederick William the First. He was anxious to introduce these Prussian features into the Russian army, expecting very likely that such externals would be the principal means of making an army invincible. That it took the genius and the untiring energy of a Frederick to bring about this invincibility he failed to see. When Peter had grown up to manhood his military zeal increased and became a perfect passion. But he felt no desire to join the Russian army in the field and earn military distinction and honors; no, he preferred to stay at home and act the drillmaster of a regiment of Holsteiners, which the Empress had organized for his especial pleasure, and to whose equipment, drill and exercises the young Grand Duke devoted most of his leisure hours. The men were uniformed and armed exactly like Prussian grenadiers, and all the officers belonged to prominent German families. The organization of this regiment made the Grand Duke very unpopular among the members of the Russian nobility, and they lost no opportunity in blackening his character and belittling his mental qualifications.

In 1745 Peter married the Princess of Anhalt-Zerbst, the daughter of a Prussian field-marshal. She was distinguished by great beauty and high mental attainments, and afterwards won world-wide renown under the name of Catherine the Second. She was originally named Sophia Augusta, but when the Empress Elizabeth selected her for the wife of her successor, she adopted the name of Catherine. Before his marriage, Peter had led a rather dissolute life, but for a couple of years after the wedding the young couple seemed to be quite happy. Peter himself was very good-looking and, although not a man of brilliant mind, was of average intelligence and culture. An attack of small-pox destroyed his good looks; and this circumstance combined with the volatile character of his wife caused an estrangement, which seemed to grow from year to year, and finally degenerated into absolute hatred. From that time on husband and wife, although not formally divorced or even separated, lived each a life of unrestrained vice.

No sooner had the courtiers noticed the growing coldness between them than they tried to ingratiate themselves with the young and beautiful but profligate Catherine, and some of them succeeded only too well. The first of her lovers was Count Soltikoff, one of the handsomest men of the Russian court, and first chamberlain of the Grand Duke. In his privileged position in the service of the Grand Duke he had so many opportunities of meeting the Grand Duchess, that soon the closest intimacy was established between them. But somehow or other a report of the liaison reached the ears of the Empress, and she sent Soltikoff on a diplomatic mission to Turkey in the hope of putting a stop to it. But the Grand Duchess easily consoled herself. No sooner had Soltikoff left the capital than Catherine formed a new liaison. Her next lover was the beautiful and chivalrous Prince Poniatowski, of the renowned Polish family; the scandal became so notorious and excited so much envy and jealousy among the Russian courtiers that it reached the ears of the Grand Duke, who applied to the Empress and demanded that his wife be punished for her shameful conduct. The Empress, who was guilty herself of many scandalous love affairs, did not reprimand the Grand Duchess, but sent Poniatowski back to Poland. A short time afterwards he returned, however, having been appointed Polish Ambassador at the court of St. Petersburg. The Grand Duke was indignant at his unlooked-for return, and having one day surprised him in a very intimate _tête-à-tête_ with Catherine, upbraided him and her in the presence of the whole court, threatening at the time to drive him like a dog from the palace, and to imprison her in a convent. At the same time the Grand Duke himself was very far from leading an exemplary life. He had picked out among the ladies of the court a young and beautiful girl, Countess Woronzow, and made her his mistress.

The time came when the Empress Elizabeth was on her deathbed. She made then a last attempt to reconcile the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess, in order to secure peace for Russia; but the estrangement and repugnance which they felt for each other was so great that this attempt failed utterly. In fact, the chasm widened immensely after the death of Elizabeth, and neither the husband nor the wife took care to conceal it. Moreover, immediately after Peter’s accession to the throne, a radical change occurred in the policy of the government,--a change that was warmly approved by some, but most bitterly opposed by others. Two great political parties were formed, and although the opponents of the government were compelled to practise their agitation in secret, they nevertheless counted a number of the most influential men among their leaders. The new Emperor broke loose entirely from the traditional policy of Russia; he not only withdrew from the Franco-Austrian alliance, but he sent orders to the Russian generals in the field against Frederick the Great of Prussia to coöperate with him. Peter himself donned the uniform of a Prussian general, which grade Frederick the Great had conferred upon him at his special request; all exercises and manœuvres of the Russian army were, by direction of the Czar, fashioned after those of the Prussian army, and Russian traditions and customs were disregarded.

The indignation and discontent among the high nobility of Russia at these “reforms”--which they ridiculed and despised--knew no bounds. In these sentiments they were encouraged by the Czar’s wife, who both from personal hostility and from the intuition of her far-sighted political genius, opposed them as anti-Russian and as the manifestations of a Teuto-maniac unfit to rule over the great Russian nation. Her husband became more and more aggressive in his threats. He spoke openly, among his intimates, of his intention to imprison Catherine in a convent and to marry his mistress, Elizabeth Woronzow, and branded the son whom Catherine had borne to him, as a bastard, who would be excluded from the succession. It was therefore in self-defence that Catherine surrounded herself with men of power and influence. She entered into close relations with high officers of the Russian army, who still adhered with loyal devotion to the traditions of Peter the Great and Elizabeth; and although far from being pious and religious herself, she surrounded herself with the high dignitaries of the Russian Church, whom Peter insulted by neglect. Catherine, on the other hand, manifested a great interest in religious ceremonies and a strict observance of the Greek Church service; and at all times prominent clergymen were guests at Peterhof, her residence.

Peter the Third wished to realize on the throne of Russia the ideal of enlightened despotism, of which his idol, King Frederick the Second of Prussia, was so illustrious a model. One of his first acts was to recall the political exiles from Siberia--among them the two fieldmarshals Münnich and Biron, who had been exiled by Elizabeth. It is assuredly one of the most lamentable spectacles to behold on the throne of a great Empire an ignorant, narrow-minded, whimsical, and fanatical ruler, introducing, under the name of “reforms,” vital and extraordinary changes in the administration and government, utterly unsuited to the character and culture of his nation. Even with the best intentions he will fail and pass for a fool.

Many of Peter’s measures were humane and just, and might have been considered judicious if he had not, by the manner in which he introduced them, provoked a resistance which proved fatal to them. He had no knowledge of Russian character, and looked down upon public sentiment. Even as Czar he gave public expression of his contempt for Russia, and placed it in every respect below Germany. With incredible self-sufficiency he disregarded all counsels to be more prudent in his public utterances and to proceed more slowly in his efforts to Prussianize Russia’s methods of administration and her system of civil and criminal jurisprudence. He abolished time-honored institutions; he attacked the privileges of the Church and the clergy; he ordered the churches and chapels to be deprived of their wealth and golden ornaments and images; he confiscated real estate belonging to the government, but occupied and taken possession of by the clergy; he reduced the exorbitant salaries of great noblemen in the provinces. By such acts he engendered protests, dissatisfaction, and threats in the very classes upon which the throne has to lean in despotic countries. To cap the climax, he dismissed the Russian body-guards and surrounded himself exclusively with German troops. The Duke of Holstein-Gottorp, his own cousin, was placed in command of these German regiments, under whose protection the Emperor considered himself absolutely safe. The King of Prussia, who was well informed on all matters going on at the Russian court, and who more than anybody else in Europe had an interest at stake to prolong the reign of his admirer, warned him again and again against the intrigues of his wife and the “old-Russian party,” but Peter was blinded by his prejudices and paid no attention to the warnings. He underrated his wife’s talent for political combinations and intrigue, and was far from suspecting that from the very first day of his reign his fate was sealed and his days numbered.

A great historian has called Catherine of Russia “the Messalina-Richelieu” of history, indicating by that combination that she was a monster of voluptuousness, insatiable in lust, and a prodigy of statecraft and political shrewdness. The name is wonderfully appropriate, for hardly ever has any female ruler, with the exception of the infamous Roman Empress, so shamelessly prostituted herself as Catherine the Second of Russia, and never has any woman, not even Elizabeth of England, possessed political genius to a higher degree. It was Peter the Great who introduced Russia into the list of European states, but it was Catherine the Second whose genius breathed into the gigantic empire its policy of grasping and ambitious expansion, which has placed her standards as tutelary guards already over the northern half of Asia, and which is yet far from being satisfied.

While the Czar was amusing himself with new reforms which were at best dead letters and created new enemies for him, his wife was untiring in her efforts to win new friends and new supporters for the great _coup d’état_ which she was preparing as the crowning act of her ambition. She wanted to be Empress in her own name, in order that she might make Russia great and not be molested and embarrassed by a husband whom she hated and despised. Her own personal memoirs, written in French and published in London in 1858, whose authenticity has never been seriously doubted, shows that when only fifteen years old, she was possessed by this ambition, which she afterwards so fully realized. Among the influential persons whose active coöperation Catherine had secured for her ambitious plans was Princess Dashkow, a young woman of excellent education and great ability, and sister of Elizabeth Woronzow. Princess Dashkow, who, on account of the superiority of her mind had great influence over her sister, proved a powerful auxiliary to Catherine in this most critical period of her married life. Through her, Catherine gained Count Panin, one of the ablest men of Russia and governor of the young Grand-Duke Paul, Catherine’s son, as her ally. She told Panin that she knew from her sister (the Czar’s mistress) that Peter the Third was on the point of repudiating his wife, that he denied the legitimacy of the young Grand Duke, that he intended to exclude him from the succession, and to declare Ivan the Sixth his successor. This Prince had been dethroned by Elizabeth and was retained as a prisoner in the fortress of Schlüsselburg, but had fallen into idiocy. These confidential communications induced Panin, who trembled for his own position and possibly for his head, secretly to join the army of malcontents, whose programme it was to dethrone Peter the Third, proclaim his son, Paul, Emperor, and Catherine Regent of the Empire during Paul’s minority. This programme was not exactly that of Catherine, who aspired to be the sovereign Empress of Russia, and not merely the Regent during her son’s minority, but with consummate ability she welcomed Panin’s overtures as steps leading to her own elevation.

Whether Catherine had fully weighed and approved all the possibilities which might result from the revolution which she had planned and for which she had found so many instruments willing to help her, will very likely remain forever an unsolved problem. Was she willing to sanction the murder of her husband in order to step over his corpse to the throne? This has been an open question with native and foreign historians. Perhaps she honestly believed with Panin that she might get rid of Peter in some way without either killing him or imprisoning him for life. But it is absolutely certain that Catherine, in the summer of 1762, came to the conclusion that the time had come for striking a decisive blow; and it is equally certain that, although not cruel by nature, she never shrank back from any means to remove obstacles standing in the way of her ambition. By the agency of her generals, Suwarow, Potemkin, and Repnin, she sacrificed whole nations to her ambition, and swept them off the face of the earth without feeling any compunction at the barbarities committed. Does it look improbable therefore that she may have consented to the assassination of her husband, whom she detested, when all other means of silencing his claims to the throne appeared unsafe?

A very important part, in fact the most important of all, in the conspiracy against the Czar, was taken by the Orloffs, and especially by Count Gregor Orloff, the favored lover of Catherine, who had the reputation of being the handsomest officer of the Russian army. The Empress was passionately in love with him, although pretty well founded rumors asserted that she bestowed her secret favors also on Gregor’s brother, Alexis, a perfect giant in stature and of herculean strength. All the Orloffs--Gregor, Alexis, Ivan, and Feodor--held positions as officers in the imperial guards or in the artillery, and were among the warmest adherents of Catherine, whose elevation would raise them, as they well knew, to the highest position in the Empire, immediately by the side of the throne. They became active agitators for her in the army, and were really the principal actors in the terrible drama of Peter’s assassination. Quite a bloody tradition attached to the Orloff family, and the part which they were to play in the revolution against Peter the Third lent new confirmation to it and recalled it to the minds of the Russian people. At the time when Peter the Great abolished the strelitzi, attended their horrid executions, even helped in them, one day the block of the executioner was so crowded with the heads of the victims that there was no room for others. Then one of the condemned coolly stepped forward and pushed several of the heads off the bench, as if it had been his business to do so. The Czar looked on in astonishment and turning to the man, who had already attracted his attention by his herculean frame and the classic beauty of his features, asked him: “What are you doing that for?” “To make room for my own head!” was the cool reply. Peter the Great, who admired personal courage above everything else, was so well pleased with the reply, that he immediately pardoned the condemned and set him free. This pardoned officer was a young nobleman, named Orloff--the grandfather of the five Orloffs who played such a conspicuous part in the revolution of 1762, and one of whom murdered Peter the Third with his own hands.

The outbreak of the revolution, as is usual in such cases, was caused by an unexpected and trifling occurrence. A young officer of the imperial guards, who had been won over to the party of Catherine, one evening while under the influence of liquor, talked about the impending revolution and was arrested by other officers who were not in the conspiracy. Gregor Orloff heard of the arrest and immediately hurried to Catherine, who was at Peterhof and had already retired for the night. But Orloff went directly to her bedroom, aroused her from sleep and told her that immediate action on her part was necessary, unless she wanted to imperil and very likely lose the game for whose success they had been working so patiently.

Catherine’s resolution was quickly taken. She immediately got up, dressed rapidly, and half an hour afterwards the carriage which had carried Orloff from St. Petersburg, returned thither with the Empress and her attendant. It was five o’clock in the morning of the twenty-ninth of June when they arrived at the capital. Two hours later Catherine was on horseback, dressed in the uniform of a general of the imperial guards, which Count Buturlin had furnished, on her way to the armory of the Preobrajenski guards, accompanied by Gregor and Alexis Orloff, and an escort of high officers who were in the conspiracy. Princess Dashkow, also in an officer’s uniform, had preceded her, and had announced to the officers of the guards that the Emperor, Peter the Third, had died suddenly, that the Empress would shortly appear among them in order to receive their homage and their oath of obedience as heiress to the throne and Regent of the Empire during the minority of her son. The officers consented immediately and influenced their soldiers without difficulty when they were reminded of the late Czar’s unjust partiality for the German regiments, and of Catherine’s unwavering kindness to them. Both officers and soldiers greeted Catherine, therefore, very enthusiastically when she arrived an hour later, and both swore allegiance and devotion to her. Catherine’s bearing on this trying occasion, was full of courage and dash. She had never looked more beautiful, and the three regiments were perfectly charmed with their new ruler. She then proceeded with her escort to the Casan Church, where, in the meantime, the Archbishop of Novgorod and the entire clergy of the capital had been assembled and were waiting for her. The Archbishop administered the oath of office to her, and Catherine swore to respect the laws and institutions of the Empire and to protect the religion of the people, whereupon the entire clergy swore allegiance to her. A solemn Te Deum, sung by thousands of voices, terminated the grand ceremony, while the roar of artillery announced to the inhabitants of St. Petersburg the accession of a new ruler. Catherine had reached the goal of her ambition; she was now the sovereign ruler of Russia, not merely in name, but in fact. She returned to the imperial palace, where an immense multitude greeted her with enthusiastic cheers. Many thousand roubles were scattered among the populace, which was moreover treated liberally with whiskey and other intoxicants, and cheered vociferously, until Catherine, who looked charmingly beautiful in her gaudy uniform, showed herself again and again on the balcony. Count Galitzin, vice-admiral of the Russian fleet, was on a visit at St. Petersburg on that day. Catherine sent for him, won him over to her side by amiability and promises, and sent him back to Kronstadt, the Russian naval port, to inspire the garrison and sailors of that stronghold with enthusiasm for the Empress,--so that the capital was protected on the seaward side against a possible attack by Peter the Third.

But even after having acted so promptly and so energetically, and after having got possession of the capital and the principal part of the army and the navy, Catherine had still a great deal to do, and her penetrating genius did not underrate the danger of the situation in which she found herself. All her successes in the capital among officers had been secured by the fraudulent assertion that the Czar had died suddenly, and there was no certainty whether Peter’s sudden appearance at the capital, or a well-authenticated report that he was still among the living and was hastening toward the capital, might cause a sudden change in public sentiment. Undaunted by these secret apprehensions, and impelled by the restless energy of her devouring ambition, she never wavered in her resolution, but pressed onward toward the consummation of her dangerous but tempting project, which seemed to be almost within her grasp. Through the active agitation of her friends, and the strong and widespread hostility of the people and the army against Peter’s ill-advised measures of “reform,” she could, almost from the first announcement of her accession to the throne, command an army of fifteen thousand well-equipped men, who were ready to die for her against any pretender, Peter the Third included.

The outbreak of the revolution was so sudden that Peter was taken entirely by surprise, and would not listen to the first reports when they reached him. He had gone on that very day to Oranienbaum, an imperial summer resort, about twenty miles from St. Petersburg, where he enjoyed himself with his Holstein guards, his favorites, and his mistress, Elizabeth Woronzow. There were altogether about two thousand soldiers with him; but there was also Field-marshal Münnich, Russia’s most renowned soldier, and a man of great authority in the army. Moreover Münnich was a man of great personal courage, and if Peter had followed his counsels, he might have saved his crown and his life. Münnich’s advice was to take immediate and bold measures, to meet aggression by aggression, and to oppose the immense prestige of the legitimate ruler to the revolutionary usurpation of an ambitious and adulterous wife. But neither Peter’s personal character, nor his immediate surroundings would admit of the acceptance of such bold and aggressive action. He was like a helpless child, hesitating and vacillating, sending out orders, and revoking them the next hour; asking everybody’s advice, and following nobody’s. His mistress was bewailing his misfortune, cursing Catherine and her treachery, and falling into hysterics at the mere thought of a bloody struggle for supremacy between Peter and his wife. It was easy to foresee the outcome of so much indecision, vacillation and cowardice on one side, and of so much determination, firmness and courage on the other.

After nearly the whole day had been spent in fruitless attempts to come to a decision, Münnich finally, at about eight o’clock in the evening, succeeded in persuading Peter to go on board of a yacht and proceed to Kronstadt, where, he expected, the Emperor would be warmly welcomed. If this step had been taken earlier in the day, it would very likely have been successful. But it will be remembered that Catherine, after her return from the Casan church, had an interview with Count Galitzin, commander-in-chief of the naval forces at Kronstadt, and had secured his coöperation. The Emperor was therefore not permitted to enter the harbor, and when he himself appeared in the fore-part of the yacht and proclaimed his identity, he was simply told to return to where he came from, and that Russia had no longer an emperor, but an empress. Münnich then appealed to Peter not to be deterred by such words, but to get into one of the boats, in which he would accompany him, and to effect a landing. “They will not shoot you,” the old field-marshal said, “this whole affair is a bold game some of the high officers are playing, but the soldiers are kept in ignorance, and when they meet their Emperor face to face they will throw down their arms.” But when the women heard from Peter that he would undertake to effect a landing on the coast, they burst into tears and filled the ship with loud lamentations and cries, and the Czar’s mistress threw herself at his feet imploring him not to expose his precious life to the bullets of the rebels, and not to abandon her, helpless and heartbroken, to the revenge of his enemies. Peter was only too glad to take her despair as a pretext to recede from Münnich’s proposition.

Münnich was disgusted and wished the women were a thousand miles off; but he made still another proposition. He wanted to turn the imperial yacht toward Reval, where quite a number of Russian warships were assembled. Peter was to take command of this fleet, sail to Pomerania, land on Prussian soil, proceed as rapidly as possible to the large Russian army concentrated there, and return at the head of that army to St. Petersburg, which, as the old and bold field-marshal believed, would not even attempt to make resistance. “Within sixty days,” said he to Peter, “your Empire will be at your feet again, your wife will be at your mercy, and your whole people will hail you as a conqueror and savior!” The plan was good and would very likely have succeeded if it had been promptly acted upon. There were nearly eighty thousand Russian soldiers--and they were the _élite_ of the Russian army--in Pomerania, and if Peter had been supported by them, he could easily have quelled the rebellion and recovered the throne.

But Peter was not the master of his own decisions. He obediently bowed to the will of his mistress and her lady friends, and they strongly protested against this new plan of the old fighter and “war-horse,” who, they declared, had no heart and did not know what love meant. Countess Woronzow persuaded Peter that the proper thing for him to do was to return to Oranienbaum or Peterhof and make his peace with the Empress, who would be only too glad to make an arrangement with him satisfactory to both. This suggestion corresponded too well with the pusillanimous and vacillating character of Peter to be rejected by him. So the whole party returned to Peterhof, and negotiations were at once opened with Catherine tending towards a reconciliation of the husband and wife. Peter addressed a letter to his wife in which he offered her the co-regency of the Empire, assuring her at the same time that the occurrences of the past week should be entirely forgotten and that love and harmony should in the future prevail in the imperial household. The letter was haughtily rejected by the Empress; no answer came to it but a verbal message that it was too late, and that no further communication from him would be received except an act of entire abdication. Peter thereupon surrendered unconditionally. He wrote a second letter to his wife, in which he very humbly asked permission both for himself and his mistress, Countess Woronzow, and a number of his attendants to return to Holstein, where they would live quietly in retirement from all public affairs. In order to carry out this wish, he asked for a pension enabling him to live in becoming style, and in exchange for these favors he recognized Catherine as Regent of the Empire during his son’s minority.

Major-General Michael Ismailoff, one of Peter’s most intimate and most trusted friends, was the bearer of this valuable document, which seemed to satisfy Catherine, but was not equally satisfactory to Count Gregor Orloff, who hoped to secure the hand of the Empress when Peter had been put out of the way. Orloff’s secret design was to assassinate Peter and then take his place by Catherine’s side. The Orloffs therefore took hold of General Ismailoff, after he had handed the Czar’s letter to the Empress, and induced him by supplications and brilliant promises to come over to their side, and to assist them in making Peter a prisoner as the only means of restoring peace and avoiding civil war. At first Ismailoff resisted their offers, but at last he yielded. He returned to Peterhof and played the part of a traitor to perfection. He told Peter that he had delivered his letter to the Empress, and that she would, as a matter of course, grant the request he had made, but that she was overcome with sorrow at the turn things had taken, that she was perfectly willing to admit him to a co-regency and to be reconciled to him, and that she was anxious to meet him in a private interview at Oranienbaum in order to arrange matters to their mutual satisfaction.

Peter fell easily into the trap. He immediately accepted the invitation and got ready to go to Oranienbaum. At first he proposed to go there under the escort of his Holsteiners, but Ismailoff persuaded him to let them stay at Peterhof, because it might look as though he distrusted the Empress and might offend her. Peter therefore went to Oranienbaum, accompanied only by Ismailoff, who encouraged him in his most extravagant expectations of a brilliant career still in store for him. But there was a sad and sudden awakening from this dream of greatness. On his arrival at Oranienbaum he found the courtyard filled with forty or fifty kibitkas; and Ismailoff, changing his conduct and tone suddenly, told him that he was a prisoner. Peter, without arms and without friends, resigned himself to his fate almost without a word of protest. He was led to one of the kibitkas, already occupied by two strong officers armed to the teeth, and then all the kibitkas started at once in as many different directions as there were roads leading to Oranienbaum. This was done in order to deceive the spectators as to the direction which Peter’s kibitka had taken. He was conveyed to Robzak, a country villa near the village of Kraskazelo, a short distance from Petersburg, but rather isolated and out of the way of the regular traffic. Moreover precautions were taken to surround the villa with soldiers. Peter was treated almost with cruelty in his solitary confinement. He was not permitted to communicate with anybody, and his friends were kept in profound ignorance as to his whereabouts. Many of them believed that he was either at Peterhof or at Petersburg. He addressed a pitiable letter to the Empress in which he humbly petitioned her to send him his negro servant, with whom he liked to play, his favorite dog, his violin, his Bible and a few novels. But the letter remained unanswered, and none of the things asked for were sent.

In the forenoon of July seventeenth, Alexis Orloff, accompanied by several officers, arrived at Robzak. They had an order from the Empress admitting them to Peter’s presence. Orloff and an officer named Tepelof--both men of herculean strength--entered the deposed Emperor’s room, and found him in a despondent mood. They carried some delicacies,--among them bottles of old Burgundy wine, which was poisoned. They announced to Peter that his term of imprisonment would soon be ended, and that he would then be permitted to return to Holstein, his native country. Peter was overjoyed at this announcement, and invited the officers, whom he treated as his guests, to take dinner with him; they readily consented and produced the delicacies and the wine they had brought. At the dinner-table Orloff presented a glass of Burgundy to Peter, who swallowed it rapidly; but the wine was so strongly poisoned that he felt the effect almost instantly. He jumped from his chair, screaming and howling with pain. “I am poisoned! I am poisoned!” he cried, “give me milk, give me oil!” The two assassins terrified with what they had done sent for milk and oil, which he swallowed eagerly. But after a few minutes they took courage again and resolved to complete their murderous work. Peter’s cries had attracted two or three officers, who entered the room; but instead of protecting him, they assisted the conspirators. All at once Alexis Orloff rushed upon Peter, who had thrown himself upon his bed, writhing in pain, and tried to choke him. Peter himself was a man of herculean strength, and defended himself with the courage of despair. The iron grasp of Orloff’s fingers did not release his throat, and the Czar’s face became as black as a negro’s. At last, by a terrible blow, he freed himself from Orloff, but while he tried to take breath, the four or five assassins rushed upon him all at the same time; they dragged him from the bed, and when he fell into an arm-chair, they threw a large napkin round his neck and strangled him until he was dead. He fell from the chair to the floor and expired in a few minutes. A number of officers had witnessed the terrible scene from a terrace which afforded a full view of the prisoner’s room.

The admirers of Catherine have often denied her active participation in the crime of Peter’s assassination; but they have never succeeded in making the world believe in her innocence. In fact, how could she be innocent, since the assassins were admitted to Peter’s presence upon a direct order issued by her, with no other business for them to do than to kill him? And then her conduct after the horrible crime had been perpetrated is sufficient evidence of her guilt. She did not regret the murder, and she rewarded the murderers. Even in the announcement of Peter’s sudden death she manifested a brutality which defied decency and common-sense. In a few words, without adding one word of sorrow at the death of one who, as she asserted, was the father of her son, she announced to the Russian people and to the foreign ambassadors at St. Petersburg that the dethroned Czar Peter the Third, had suddenly died from the effects of a hæmorrhoidal colic, to which he was subject, and which had caused a stroke of apoplexy. This cool declaration was to account for the horrible appearance of Peter’s countenance, which looked almost black even in death, and which could not be concealed from the people. It had always been customary to exhibit to the public the corpse of a deceased Czar and to place him on a catafalque where the people could see him and pay their respect to him. This public exhibition could not be avoided without immensely strengthening the suspicion of foul play; and Catherine boldly underwent the ordeal. The black hue of the countenance could not be changed, but Peter’s neck was entirely covered up with a very high and stiff stock, which concealed the finger-marks of his assassins. Among the spectators was the old field-marshal, Prince Trubetzkoi, well known for his rudeness and sincerity. He rapidly stepped up to the bier, where Peter lay in state, and exclaimed in a loud tone of voice: “Why, why, Peter Fedorowitch, what ridiculous kind of necktie have they bundled around your neck? You never wore such a thing in your life; why should you wear it now when you are dead?” And he began to open the stock, and would have exposed Peter’s throat to public view, if the guards, in spite of the high rank of the Prince, had not forcibly dragged him away.

Unfortunately for the memory of Catherine the Second the assassination of her husband was not the only assassination caused by her usurpation of the Russian throne. It will be remembered that Peter had repeatedly threatened to disown, and consequently to exclude from the succession, Paul, the son whom Catherine had borne to him, and whom he openly branded as a bastard, and to this threat he added the declaration that he would name as his successor the young ex-Emperor Ivan the Sixth, who had been dethroned by the Empress Elizabeth, and who was still imprisoned at Schlüsselburg. This threat was fatal to the poor young Prince, who during his long seclusion had become half-idiotic and had lost the knowledge of his identity. But nevertheless the fear that he might be used by her enemies as a legitimate pretender, with better rights to the crown than her own, haunted Catherine’s mind, and she did not rest until he had fallen a victim to the assassin’s dagger.

Strict orders had been issued to the commandant of the fortress of Schlüsselburg that on the first attempt to liberate Ivan he should be immediately put to death. And then a new infamy was committed which very likely sprang from Catherine’s own diabolical genius. There was a young and poor lieutenant named Mirowitch, in the garrison of Schlüsselburg who was infatuated with admiration for the Empress and anxious to render her a service. He was approached by one of his superior officers (probably an Orloff) and his attention was directed to Ivan. “If he were out of the way,” he was told, “the Empress would never forget it, and would reward the service in an imperial manner.” Mirowitch took the hint and resolved to merit the Empress’s gratitude by assassinating Ivan. Under some pretext he really came to the door of the room in which Ivan was kept a prisoner. Two officers were on guard there, but when they heard Mirowitch’s voice demanding admittance and threatening to break open the door, they rushed upon Ivan and put him to death. Then they opened the door, and finding Mirowitch before them, they showed him Ivan’s corpse and arrested him. Mirowitch was put on trial. The crime he was charged with was an attempt to abduct the imprisoned Ivan and to proclaim him Emperor of Russia. Mirowitch did not defend himself. He only smiled. He knew who stood behind him and would protect him from injury. He was found guilty and sentenced to be beheaded. He laughed at the sentence and never lost courage. With a smile he ascended the scaffold and looked around, wondering why the imperial messenger with the pardon and the reward was not coming. The priest approached him and prayed for him. He listened with little attention, and still a smile hovered on his features. But suddenly the executioner took hold of him, held him in his iron grasp, and threw him down. It was the last moment and no messenger appeared yet; and then only Mirowitch realized his terrible fate. With a scream of mad rage he commenced wrestling with the executioner, and while uttering a cry of execration against Catherine, his severed head rolled upon the scaffold. The assassination of two czars--one of them her own husband--was the bloody price which Catherine paid for the throne which she was to make great and renowned by a long and glorious reign. How easily great crimes are forgotten if committed by sovereigns of genius!