Secret Mission

This month Russia marks the 300th anniversary of Peter the Great’s mission to Europe. Surely such a significant tricentennial should not pass as inconspicuously as Peter sought to pass in Holland, England and the rest of Europe. So Russian Life asked one of its regular contributors, renowned Russian historian Nikolai Pavlenko, to explain why such secrecy was sought, why it never really worked and why such an “inconspicious” event ended up playing such a crucial role in the destinies of Peter the Great and the country he ruled. Photos from the personal files of the author.

In 1696, returning to Moscow after their victory over Turkish forces at the fortress of Azov, Peter the Great’s soldiers were honored with ceremonial cannon fire and public verse. Though full of his triumph over the Turks, Peter was worried that, since he had failed to conclude a peace treaty with them, the Turks might wait for a propitious moment to restart hostilities.

With that in mind, in the Spring of 1697, Peter, then just 25 years old, decided to send a Russian mission abroad, in order to both secure Holland’s assistance in any future conflicts with Turkey, and to apprentice himself and his men to Holland’s superior shipbuilders. Peter the Great, with his much-documented appreciation for all things foreign, was eager to upgrade his country’s military might by securing the talents of foreign military experts and arms.

Russia sent a 250-strong mission to Holland, headed by three plenipotentiary ambassadors: Franz Lefort, Fyodor Golovkin, and Prokofy Voznitsin. Among the personnel were 62 security men, translators, physicans, cooks, and 35 young noblemen who desired to go abroad and acquire shipbuilding and navy skills.

In order to avail himself of all possible freedoms abroad, Peter decided to travel not as the Russian Tsar but simply as a private individual, Peter Mikhailov, heading a group of volunteers. Since no Tsar before him had ever crossed Russia’s borders, the situation was really quite unique: the 25-year old Tsar was the de facto  leader of the delegation, but his true name and status were not to be mentioned (under punishment of death). In the eyes of outsiders, the mission was represented as under the guidance of the three Russians ambassadors.

In reality, of course, Peter gave written instructions as to the goals and tasks of the Great Mission, such as the need to hire shipbuilding and navy experts, buy blacksmith’s and carpenter’s tools, paper, lead, paint and complete other tasks. Yet, and this may explain why, in the end, Peter’s Mission was not totally successful, the Tsar’s instructions failed to explain exactly how his ambassadors were to secure new allies in the war against the Turks. The absence of these and many other important details may be somewhat due to the fact that in his role as a ‘volunteer,’ Peter was unwilling to issue exact orders himself.

Why did Peter choose to hide his true identity? One could make an educated guess that, besides Peter’s wish to hide his temporary absence from Russia from the Turkish government, Peter had always felt ill at ease amidst all the pomp and circumstance expected from heads of state: the rigid rules of social etiquette were of little interest to him. As kurfurstinnen (Electress) Sofia of Hannover and her daughter, Sofia-Charlotte of Branden-burg, described him, “Peter was a talented, knowledgeable and hard-working man, capable of performing many different tasks, save using a knife and fork in the proper way.”

But most important, Peter was eager to learn how to build ships, and it was clearly incompatible for one of his royal rank to perform manual labor. Traditionally, the Tsar was forbidden from engaging in any sort of physical labor whatsoever.

On March 25, 1697, the grand procession crossed the Russo-Swedish border, entering Riga, the capital of Livonia, then in the possession of the Swedish crown, on April 1.  In order to continue on with their journey, the Russians had to replace their sledges with carts, and Riga’s merchants, who had them over a barrel (and were suffering from a famine), did not hesitate to cheat them by any and every ruse. In a letter home, Peter described the merchants as “cursing and snarling for every penny.” Peter, meanwhile, used the week spent in the capital to carefully examine the city’s fortress, to the warranted suspicion of the Swedes. On the whole, Peter’s experience in Riga was something he preferred to forget — his next contact with Sweden would be in war, and he would cite his rude reception in Riga as one of his excuses for beginning that Great Northern War.

From Sweden, Peter made his way via Poland to Konigsberg, where he met up with Frederick III, the kurfust (Elector) of Brandenburg. Aside from their mutual love of carousing, the two heads of state tried to strike up a military alliance. But negotiations dragged on for nearly a full month (May 24-June 22), due mainly to Frederick’s insistence on including a clause on mutual assistance, guaranteeing that, in case one state was attacked, the other would instantly come to its aid. The Russians feared that such a clause would raise Swedish suspicions, to the detriment of Russia’s international interests. To be sure, having no peace treaty with Turkey in the South, Russia was not in a position to complicate its relations with the powerful Swedes in the North.

But, realizing that in order to secure one ally Russia might be forced to alienate another, the two parties agreed on general, verbal assurances that, should one power be threatened, the other would come the first’s assistance. Both monarchs “shook hands and kissed.” Russia was on her way to creating a stable geopolitical program.

On August 18, 1697 Peter arrived in the shipbuilding town of Zaandam, bypassing Amsterdam. Peter lost no time in familiarizing himself with the world of Dutch shipbuilders. He bought some shipbuilding tools and rented a small house adjoining the house of a blacksmith who had worked for Peter in Moscow. He enjoyed spending time examining local warehouses, workshops and shipyards, displaying  natural talent for the work. According to one Dutch source, “Peter was a very clever and inquisitive person who often embarrassed local specialists with questions that were too difficult for them to answer. His

memory was matchless. Moreover, he was a very smart artisan, who was always surprising locals by doing things better than they did.”

For a number of reasons, mainly due to the speed with which gossip can travel, Peter failed to conceal his true identity, though he did his best to blend in with his surroundings. In Holland, working as a volunteer in the Zaandam shipyards. He even dressed in the same outfit as the other workers — a red flannel jacket and canvas trousers. But, of course, nothing could hide his distinguishing height — six and a half feet tall — and his distinctive nervous tics.

Peter did not enjoy being the center of attention, but he could not escape the curiosity of local people, who came from far and wide to see the Russian Tsar working as a common shipright. Annoyed by the crowds which followed him, he wanted nothing more than to be left alone and to work in peace. In order to appease Peter, the local burgomaster issued a special decree ordering severe punishment for all those who showed disrespect to the foreign guest. But this was not enough and Peter was forced after just one week to move from Zaandam to a more private shipyard in Amsterdam.

The Russians learned a great deal at the Dutch shipyards, receiving upon the completion of their two-month course of study a certificate from shipbuilding expert Gerrit Claes Pool to the effect, for example, that ‘Peter Mikhailov has proved himself a diligent and smart carpenter, and in the area of shipbuilding has acquired knowledge and skills comparable to our own.’

The Holland experiment proved a success, but Peter was not satisfied; he wanted to learn still more, so he decided to go to England, home of the world’s best ship designers.

In London and later in Deptford, a borough of Southeast London and site of some major shipyards, Peter got the chance to acquire the profession of a shipbuilding engineer in earnest. Peter spent four months in England, meeting with all manner of professional people and visiting sites of educational interest. He visited London factories and workshops, in which his fancy for watchmaking became a marked skill. He indulged his love of astronomy at the Greenwich Royal Observatory and visited the British Mint, planning to buy Russia one of England’s newly invented coining presses. He also made a trip to Woolwich, the center of military industry, Oxford University and many other educational British sites.

However, while Peter was working in England’s shipyards and visiting English industrial and educational establishments, his ambassadors were unsuccessfully negotiating with the Dutch in Amsterdam and the Hague. Not only did the Dutch turn down Russia’s proposal to pool battle forces, but also refused to provide Russia with a loan to cover high military expenditures. Even the Russian ambassadors’ promises to grant Dutch merchants extensive privileges in the silk trade with Iran and Armenia proved futile. “They do not want give us nothing,” wrote Lefort in his broken Russian to Peter.

Peter, meanwhile, had been engaged in personal, tet-a-tet meetings with William, Prince of Orange, who was simultaneously Stadholder of Holland and King William III of England. Both in Amsterdam and in London, the two had met and developed feelings of mutual admiration and respect. But Peter could not find common ground other than a mutual animosity for Louis XIV, King of France.

Thus, after returning from England to Amsterdam, Peter decided to go to Vienna, to try to prevent Austria, Russia’s ally in the war with Turkey, from striking a separate deal with the Turks. This time Peter took onto himself the responsibility of directing negotiations, but again to no avail. The peace was to everyone’s benefit but Russia’s (Peter had not yet secured the access to the Black Sea that he sought), and Austria was starting to get concerned about Louis XIV again. Having no other choice, Peter decided to make a trip to an age-old enemy of Turkey (and another sea power), Venice, to build an anti-Turkish coalition and to inspect Venetian warships.

But this was not to be. As he was about to depart for Venice, Peter received intelligence that four regiments of streltsy [permanent, regular regiments, which took their name from their chief weapons, muskets — Ed.] had mutinied and marched on Moscow. He cancelled his voyage to Venice and headed for Moscow at full-steam. But, on June 24, in Krakow, hearing the good news that the mutiny had been suppressed, he decided to slacken his pace and take some time to strike up new, and rewarding acquaintances.

On July 31, Peter met Augustus II, Elector of Saxony, recently become King of Poland. The two leaders were of the same age and similar dispositions and quickly became good friends. Besides much time spent relaxing together, they secretly discussed the possibility of an anti-Swedish alliance and even a surprise attack to wrest the Baltic provinces from Sweden. These discussions did not end in the form of a written treaty, instead “both monarches gave each other their word of honor and parted.” They even exchanged their clothes as a gesture of friendship. So, a year and a half after starting out, on August 25, 1698, Peter quietly returned to Moscow in the Polish king’s baggy costume.

Earlier, on June 3, 1698, four vessels arrived in the Russian port city of Arkhhangelsk, bearing a motley crowd of sailors, infantry troops and shipbuilders totalling 672 people. Among them were 26 captains, 35 lieutenants, 33 navigators, and 345 sailors. Another ship brought to Russia more than 15,000 handguns, various tools, exotic animals and birds. In all, Peter recruited over 750 foreigners, especially Dutchmen, to serve in Russia, promising to subsidize passage, provide advantageous employment, and assure religious tolerance and separate law courts. Unfortunately, Peter’s hospitality did not extend to Jews, whom he considered parasitic.

In conclusion, while Peter’s main political goal, to secure alliances in the prosecution of further war against Turkey, had not been achieved, the trip was not wasted. Besides many new skills and much new knowledge, some time later Russia formalized verbal commitments to join forces in fighting against Sweden, inaugurating the Northern Alliance, made up of Russia, Saxony and Denmark. The war with Sweden that ensued would last twenty years and open up Russian access to the Baltic Sea, leading to the founding of St. Petersburg at the mouth of the Neva river.

Most significantly, for Peter himself, his time abroad served to crystallize his plans to quickly, and brutally, bring Western customs and technology, but not belief systems or ways of governance, to Russia. Unlike the majority of his countrymen who viewed foreigners with fear and distrust, Peter was determined to use Western ideas to improve Russia. It would be a long and inconclusive struggle for the energetic monarch.

Today, after five years of pushing Western-style market reform, Russia’s leaders are relearning what Peter learned three centuries ago: bringing Western ideas to Russia does not  pay off quickly and can provoke brutal opposition. Even though the number of “Peter’s countrymen” who “view foreigners with fear and distrust” has surely diminished in relative terms, the continuing argument between Westerners (zapadniki) and slavophiles has never been more acute. RL

Professor Nikolai Ivanovich Pavlenko is a Doctor of History and the author of several books in Russian on 17th-18th centuury history, including Peter the First (1975) and Peter the Great (1984).