In retrospect, there seems something strange about the operations of Norris' fleet. Although his ships in the Baltic were in a state of armed hostility, no British ship ever fired at a Russian ship. If Norris' powerful men-of-war had ever caught Peter's galley flotillas in the open sea, the British ships with their greater speed and overwhelming gun power would have massacred the Russians. But the English, despite Norris' orders from his civilian masters, were content to support Sweden merely by their presence, showing the flag in Swedish harbors and cruising in the central Baltic. It is hard to believe that an aggressive British admiral leading the finest seamen in the world could not have drawn some blood if he had wished to. It leaves a suspicion that Norris preferred not to engage the ships of the Tsar, whose admiration and generosity he had personally enjoyed when they had met five years before. For George I, Norris' failure was a serious embarrassment. Despite his maneuvers in isolating Russia and plucking away her allies, despite his employment of the British navy in the Baltic, neither his diplomacy nor his fleet had succeeded in helping Sweden or harming Russia. While British ships-of-the-line cruised the Baltic or lay in Swedish harbors, Russian galley flotillas roved up and down the Swedish coastline, supporting landing parties which burned and ravaged where they chose. In England, the King's opponents laughed at the fleet which was sent to defend Sweden but which somehow never managed to be present at the right time or place.
By the middle of the summer of 1720, George I's anti-Russian policy was on the verge of failure. Most people in England realized that Peter and Russia could not be defeated without a far greater effort than they were willing to consider making. Veselovsky reported from London that eight out of every ten Members of Parliament, both Whig and Tory, believed that war with Russia would be contrary to the best interests of England. Peter, wisely, had always made it abundantly clear that his quarrel was not with the English people or English merchants but only with the King. Thus, although the Tsar had broken off diplomatic relations and expelled both the English and Hanoverian ministers from St. Petersburg, he had never allowed any break in commericial relations. Before his departure, Jefferyes had attempted to order home English shipwrights and naval officers in the service of the Tsar, but most were Peter's favorites who enjoyed many privileges in Russia, and few heeded Jefferyes' demand. Similarly, the Tsar personally told English merchants in Russia that they were welcome to stay under his protection. Veselovsky passed the same message to those trading companies in London which traded with Russia. Soon afterward, Peter lifted his blockade of Swedish ports in the Baltic, allowing free passage of Dutch and English commerical shipping. In every way, the Tsar emphasized that his quarrel was not with England but with the King's policy of using England to advance the interests of Hanover.
Finally, in September 1720, the likelihood of any serious British military involvement in the Baltic was terminated by an event in Britain which distracted attention from everything else, the bursting of the South Sea Bubble. Shares in the South Sea Company, chartered to trade with South America and the Pacific and enjoying the governorship of the King, had stood at 128.5 in January 1720, rose to 330 in March, 550 in April, 890 in June and 1,000 in July. In September, the bubble burst and shares plummeted to 175. Speculators from all levels of society were ruined, there was a rash of suicides, and an angry roar of indignation rose up against the company, the government and the King.
In this crisis, Sir Robert Walpole emerged to save the King and secure his own position for the next twenty years. Walpole was the living embodiment of the educated eighteenth-century English country squire; his private language was that of the barnyard, and his rhetoric in the House of Commons was superb. Short, weighing 280 pounds, with a heavy head, a double chin and strong black eyebrows, he had the habit of munching little red Norfolk apples during a debate. Walpole had invested in the company and had suffered losses, but had retired both from the company and from the government before it was too late. Summoned back, he worked out a scheme to restore confidence by transferring large blocks of South Sea stock to the Bank of England and the East India Company. In parliament, he vigorously defended the government and the crown from charges of scandal. By so doing, he earned the gratitude not only of George I but also of George II, both of whom passed into his hands more responsibility for administering the realm that any king had previously given up to one of his ministers. It is for this reason that Walpole is often called "the first Prime Minister."
Having steered the King to safety, Walpole took charge of British policy. A Whig to his eyebrows, Walpole believed in avoidance of war and encouragement of trade. This teasing, dangerous semi-war with Russia had no part in his view of the future prosperity of England. The subsidies paid to Sweden and the costs of sending the fleet could be better spent elsewhere. With Walpole at the helm, it became British policy to end the war as speedily as possible. The King was chagrined, but even the King could see that his plan to roll Peter back from the Baltic coast was not succeeding.
It did not take Frederick of Sweden long to realize where matters stood. Disillusioned by the impotence of George I's support, and aware that continuation of the struggle meant further Russian attacks along his coasts, Frederick decided to face the fact that the war was lost. This decision was spurred by the arrival in St. Petersburg of Duke Charles Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp seeking asylum. Reports reached Stockholm that the Duke had been magnificently received by the Tsar, and that Peter proposed to marry him to one of his own daughters. This attention to Charles Frederick, implying Russian support to the Holstein faction in the struggle for the Swedish throne, was a well-aimed stroke by Peter. It clearly implied that only by signing a peace treaty with the Tsar which incorporated Russian acquiescence in Frederick I's possession of the Swedish throne would the new King ever be easy in his new title.
Frederick informed Peter that he was ready to reopen negotiations, and a second peace conference was convened on April 28, 1721, in the town of Nystad on the Finnish coast of the Gulf of Bothnia. Again, the Russian representatives were Bruce, now a count, and Osterman, now a baron. In the opening sessions, the Russians were astonished to find that the Swedes expected easier terms than those they had been offered at Aland. The Swedes in turn were dismayed to learn that Peter now demanded permanent cession of Livonia, whereas previously he had been content with a "temporary" occupation of forty years. "I know my interest," the Tsar now declared. "If I leave Sweden in Livonia, I would harbor a serpent in my bosom."
Great Britain's new desire for peace in the North did not entail a total abandonment of its Swedish ally. In April 1721, King George I wrote to King Frederick I that, in accordance with treaty obligations, a British fleet would enter the Baltic that summer. But George begged that Sweden attempt to conclude a peace with Russia. The cost of sending a fleet every summer was prohibitive, George explained; the sum expanded on the present squadron came to 600,000 pounds. A few weeks later, Norris' twenty-two ships-of-the-line appeared, but throughout the summer the British squadron lay anchored in Stockholm Skargard, completely idle.
Meanwhile, with the negotiations at Nystad deadlocked over Livonia and no military truce arranged, Peter once again launched his galley fleet against the Swedish coast. Five thousand soldiers under Major General Lacy landed one hundred miles north of Stockholm and attacked the fortified town of Gefle, but the town was too strong for Lacy's strength and the Russian troops moved south, leaving a swath of destruction. Sundeval and two other towns were burned, along with nineteen parishes and 506 villages. Lacy defeated the Swedish force sent against him, while his galleys burned six Swedish galleys. On June 24, having ravaged 400 miles of Swedish coastline, Lacy was ordered to withdraw.
Lacy's raid, although oh a smaller scale than those of the preceding summers, appeared to be the last straw for Sweden. Frederick I finally yielded Livonia. The main articles of the peace treaty granted Peter the territories he had so long desired. Livonia, Ingria and Estonia were ceded "in perpetuity" to Russia, along w
ith Karelia as far as Vyborg. The remainder of Finland was to be restored to Sweden. As compensation for Livonia, Russia agreed to pay two million thalers over four years, and Sweden was granted the right to purchase Livonian grain without paying duty. All prisoners of war on both sides were to be freed. The Tsar pledged that he would not interfere in Swedish domestic politics, thus confirming Frederick I's right to the throne.
It was on September 14, 1721, when Peter had left St. Petersburg for Vyborg to inspect the new frontier which would be drawn by the treaty, that a courier arrived from Nystad with the news that the treaty had actually been signed on September 10. The Tsar was exuberant. When a copy of the treaty was placed in his hands, he wrote joyfully, "All scholars in arts usually finish their course in seven years. Our school has lasted three times that long. However, thank God, it is so well finished that better would have been impossible."
News that peace had come after twenty-one years of war was received with jubilation in Russia. Peter was beside himself with excitement, and the celebrations which took place were prolonged and prodigious. St. Petersburg first realized that something extraordinary had happened when on September 15, the Tsar's yacht was unexpectedly seen sailing back up the Neva, returning from his visit to Vyborg far sooner than expected. That the news was good was signaled by repeated firing of salutes from the three small canon on board the yacht and, as the vessel grew nearer, by the sound of trumpeters and drummers on deck. A crowd quickly gathered at the wharf on Trinity Square, swelled every minute by the arrival of more government officials, for there could only be one reason for this behavior on the approaching ship. When Peter stepped ashore and confirmed the news, people in the crowd wept and cheered. Peter walked from the wharf to Trinity Church to pray and give thanks. After the service, General-Admiral Apraxin and the other senior officers and ministers present, knowing what reward would most please their master, asked him to accept promotion to admiral.
Meanwhile, tubs of beer and wine were being set in the middle of streets packed with excited people. Peter mounted a small, makeshift platform in the square outside the church and shouted to the crowd, "Rejoice and thank God, you Orthodox people, that Almighty God has put an end to this long war lasting twenty-one years, and given us a happy and eternal peace with Sweden!" Taking a cup of wine, Peter toasted the Russian nation while the ranks of soldiers fired their muskets in the air and the guns of the Peter and Paul Fortress thundered a salute.
A month later, Peter gave a masquerade party that continued for days. Forgetting his age and his various ailments, he danced on tabletops and sang at the top of his lungs. Tiring suddenly in the middle of a banquet, he rose from the table, ordered his guests not to go home and went to sleep on his yacht anchored in the Neva. When he returned, the celebration continued, with rivers of wine and prodigious noise. For an entire week, thousands of people remained masked and in fancy dress, dining, dancing, walking in the streets, rowing on the Neva, going to sleep and rising to begin again.
The celebration reached a peak on October 31 when Peter appeared in the Senate to declare that, in gratitude for God's mercy in giving Russia victory, he would pardon all imprisoned criminals except murderers, and that he would annul all debts to the government and arrears of taxes accumulated over eighteen years from the war's beginning to 1718. In that same session, the Senate resolved to offer Peter the titles of Peter the Great, Emperor and Father of His Country. This resolve, in which the Holy Synod joined, was put in the form of a written petition and taken to the Tsar by Menshikov and a delegati6n of two senators and the Archbishops of Pskov and Novgorod. Peter promised to consider the petition.
A few days before, Campredon, the French ambassador, who had helped urge the Swedes toward peace, had arrived at Kronstadt aboard a Swedish frigate. Breaking all the laws of protocol the happy Tsar himself went on board the frigate, embraced the envoy on deck and took him to visit the six large Russian men-of-war then anchored in the port. Returning to the capital, and walking through the streets, Peter kept the astonished Campredon with him throughout the festive week. In the Trinity Church, Peter placed Campredon in a position of honor, abruptly shoving aside a nobleman who obscured the Frenchman's view. During the service,. Peter himself directed the liturgy, sang with the priests and helped beat time. At the end of the regular service, the terms of the treaty and its ratification were read to the congregation. Peter's favorite churchman, Archbishop Feofan Prokopovich, delivered an oration praising the Tsar and was followed by Chancellor Golovkin, who addressed Peter directly:
"By your tireless labors and leadership alone, we your loyal subjects have stepped from the darkness of ignorance into the theater of fame of the whole world, and, so to speak, have moved from non-existence to existence, and have joined in the society of political peoples. For that and for winning a peace so renowned and so rewarding, how can we render our proper gratitude? And so that we may not be with shame before the whole world, we take it upon ourselves in the name of the Russian nation and of all ranks of the subjects of Your Majesty, humbly to pray you to be gracious to us and agree, as a small mark of our acknowledgement of the great blessings that you have brought to us and to the whole nation, to take the title: Father of the Fatherland, Peter the Great, Emperor of All Russia."
With a brief nod of his head, Peter indicated that he would accept the titles.* "Vivat! Vivat! Vivat!'* shouted the senators.
*The idea of awarding the title of emperor to the Tsar was not, of course, wholly spontaneous on the part of the Senate. Four years earlier, in 1717, when Michael Shafirov, brother of the Vice Chancellor, was rummaging among old records and papers in the archives, he found a letter written in 1514 by the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian to Tsar Vasily Ivanovich (father of Ivan the Terrible). In the letter, Maximilian, urging Vasily to join him in an alliance against the King of Poland and Grand Prince of Lithuania, addressed the Tsar as "Great Lord, Vasily, Emperor and Dominator of All the Russians." When Shafirov showed Peter the letter, which was written in German, the Tsar immediately had it translated into all languages and gave copies to all foreign ambassadors in St. Petersburg. Simultaneously, through Russian diplomats and agents, he had the letter published in newspapers throughout Western Europe along with the notice, "This letter will serve to maintain without contestation the said title to the monarchs of all Russia, which high title was given them many years past and ought to be valued so much the more because it was written by an emperor who by his rank was one of the first monarchs of the world."
In Europe, acceptance of the Russian title came only in stages. Holland and Prussia immediately recognized Peter as Emperor of Russia. Other states delayed, chiefly because they were unwilling to antagonize the Holy Roman Emperor, who was jealous of the uniqueness of his ancient title. Sweden, however, recognized Peter as emperor in 1723, and the Ottoman Empire recognized Empress Anne in 1739. King George I always refused to give his old enemy Peter the imperial title, and English recognition waited until 1742, fifteen years after the King's death. In this same year, the Hapsburg Emperor recognized his Russian counterpart as an equal. France and Spain accepted the imperial title in 1745 and Poland in 1764.
The imperial title remained in use from Peter's proclamation in 1721 until the abdication of Emperor Nicholas II in 1917.
Inside and outside the church, the crowd roared, trumpets sounded and drums beat, echoed by the clanging and thundering of all the church bells and cannon in St. Petersburg. When the tumult subsided, Peter responded, "By our deeds in war we have emerged from darkness into the light of the world, and those whom we did not know in the light now respect us. I wish our entire nation to recognize the direct hand of God in our favor during the last war and in the conclusion of this peace. It becomes us to thank God with all our might, but while hoping for peace, we must not grow weaker in military matters, so as not to have the fate of the Greek monarchy [the Eastern empire of Constantinople]. We must make efforts for the general good and profit which may God grant us at home and abroa
d and from which the nation will receive advantage."
Leaving the church, Peter led a procession to the Senate palace, where tables for a thousand guests were set in a large hall. There he was congratulated by Duke Charles Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp and the foreign ambassadors. A banquet was followed by another ball and by fireworks which Peter himself had designed. Again the cannon boomed and the ships on the river were illuminated. In the hall, an enormous basin of wine—"a true cup of grief," one participant called it—was passed among the guests, carried on the shoulders of two soldiers. Outside, fountains of wine burbled at the street corners and whole oxen were roasted on a platform. Peter came out and carved the first pieces with his own hands, distributing them among the crowd. He ate some himself and then lifted his cup to drink the health of the Russian people.
Part Five
RUSSIA
IN THE SERVICE OF THE STATE
Peter had been sitting at dinner one night in 1717 surrounded by friends and lieutenants when the talk turned to Tsar Alexis and the achievements and disappointments of his reign. Peter had mentioned his father's wars against Poland and his struggle with the Patriarch Nikon, when Count Ivan Musin-Pushkin suddenly declared that none of Tsar Alexis' accomplishments had measured up to Peter's and that most of Alexis' successes had actually been due to the work of his ministers. Peter's reaction was icy. "Your disparagement of my father's achievements and your praise of mine are more than I can listen to," he said. The Tsar got up and walked over to the seventy-eight-year-old Prince Jacob Dolgoruky, sometimes called the Russian Cato. "You criticize me more than anybody else and plague me with your arguments until I sometimes feel I could lose my temper with you," said Peter. "But I know that you are sincerely devoted to me and to the state and that you always speak the truth, for which I am deeply grateful. Now, tell me how you estimate my father's achievements and what you think of mine."
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