[98] As these letters and answers afford the most striking evidence of the czar's prudence, and the prince's insincerity, and will convey to the reader a clear idea of the grounds and motives of this extraordinary transaction, we have inserted the following translation of them. The first letter from the czar to his son, is dated the 27th of October, 1715, and displays a noble spirit of religion, with the most ardent desire of leaving a successor who should perpetuate his name and glory to future ages.

'Son,' says the czar to him, 'you cannot be ignorant of what is known to all the world, that our people groaned under the oppression of the Swedes, before the beginning of this present war. By the usurped possession of many of our maritime ports, so necessary to our state, they cut us off from all commerce with the rest of mankind; and we saw, with deep regret, that they had even cast a mist over the eyes of persons of the greatest discernment, who tamely brooked their slavery, and made no complaints to us. You know how much it cost us at the beginning of this war, to make ourselves thoroughly experienced, and to stand our ground in spite of all the advantages which our irreconcileable enemies gained over us. The Almighty alone has conducted us by his hand, and conducts us still. We submitted to that probationary state with resignation to the will of God, not doubting but it was he who made us pass through it: he has accepted our submission; and the same enemy, before whom we were wont to tremble, now trembles before us. These are effects, which, under God's assistance, we owe to our labour, and those of our faithful and affectionate sons, and Russian subjects. But while I survey the successes with which God has blessed our arms, if I turn my eyes on the posterity that is to succeed me, my soul is pierced with anguish; and I have no enjoyment of my present happiness, when I carry my views into futurity. All my felicity vanishes away like a dream, since you, my son, reject all means of rendering yourself capable of governing well after me. Your incapacity is voluntary; for you cannot excuse yourself from want of genius: it is inclination alone you want. Far less can you plead the want of bodily strength, as if God had not furnished you sufficiently in that respect: for though your constitution be none the strongest, it cannot be reckoned weak. Yet you will not so much as hear of warlike exercises; though it is by those means we are risen from that obscurity in which we were buried, and have made ourselves known to the nations about us, whose esteem we now enjoy. I am far from desiring you to cherish in yourself a disposition to make war for its own sake, and without just reasons: all I demand of you is, that you would apply yourself to learn the military art; because, without understanding the rules of war, it is impossible to be qualified for government. I might set before your eyes many examples of what I propose to you; but shall only mention the Greeks, with whom we are united by the same profession of faith. Whence came the declension of their empire, but from the neglect of arms? Sloth and inaction have subjected them to tyrants, and that slavery under which they have groaned. You are much mistaken if you imagine it is enough for a prince that he have good generals to act under his orders: no, my son, it is upon the chief himself that the eyes of the world are fixed; they study his inclinations, and easily slide into the imitation of his manners. My brother, during his reign, loved magnificence in dress, and splendid equipages, and horses richly caparisoned; the taste of this country was not much formed that way; but the pleasures of the prince soon became those of the subjects, who are readily led to imitate him both in the objects of his love and disgust. If people are so easily disengaged from things that are only for pleasure, will they not be still more prone to forget, and in process of time wholly to lay aside the use of arms, the exercise of which grows the more irksome the less they are habituated to them? You have no inclination to learn the profession of war; you do not apply yourself to it; and consequently will never know it. How then will you be able to command others, and to judge of the rewards which those subjects deserve who do their duty, or of the punishment due to such as fall short of obedience? You must judge only by other people's eyes; and will be considered as a young bird, which reaching out its beak, is as ready to receive poison as proper nourishment. You say, the infirm state of your health makes you unfit to bear the fatigues of war; but that is a frivolous excuse. I desire you not to undergo the fatigues of that profession, though it is there that all great captains are begun; but I wish you had an inclination to the military art; and reason may give it you, if you have it not from nature. Had you once this inclination, it would occupy your thoughts at all times, even in your hours of sickness. Ask those who remember my brother's reign: his state of health was much more infirm than your's; he could not manage a horse of never so little mettle, nor hardly mount him: yet he loved horses, and perhaps there never will be in the country finer stables than his. Hence you see, that success does not always depend upon personal labour, but upon the inclination. If you think that there are princes, whose affairs fail not to succeed, though they go not to war in person, you are in the right; but if they go not to the field of battle, they have, however, an inclination to go, and are acquainted with the military art. For instance, the late king of France did not always take the field himself; but we know to what a degree he was a lover of war, and how many glorious exploits he performed therein; which made his campaigns be called the theatre and school of the world. The bent of that prince's mind was not turned to military affairs only, he had also a taste for the polite arts, for manufactures, and other institutions, which have made his kingdom more flourishing than any other. After all these remonstrances which I have laid before you, I return to my first subject, which immediately concerns yourself. I am a man, and consequently must die: to whom shall I leave the care of finishing what, by God's grace, I have begun, and of preserving what I have in part recovered? To a son who, like that slothful servant in the gospel, buries his talent in the earth, and neglects to improve what God has committed to his trust? How often have I reproached you for your sullenness and indocility? I have been obliged to chastise you on that account. For these several years past I have hardly spoke to you, because I almost despair of bringing you back to the right way; discouraged and disheartened by the fruitlessness of all my endeavours. You loiter on in supine indolence; abandoning yourself to shameful pleasures, without extending your foresight to the dangerous consequences which such a conduct must produce both to yourself and the whole state: you confine yourself to the government of your own house, and in that station you acquit yourself very ill; St. Paul has told us, 'he that knows not how to govern his own house, how shall he be able to rule the church of God?' In like manner I say to you, since you know not how to manage your domestic affairs, how can you be able to govern a kingdom? I am determined, at last, to signify to you my final purpose; being willing, however, to defer the execution of it for a short time, to see if you will reform: if not, know that I am resolved to deprive you of the succession, as I would lop off a useless branch. Do not imagine, that because I have no other child but you,[99] I mean by this only to intimidate you: I will most certainly execute my resolution; and God requires it of me: for, since I spare not my own life for the sake of my country, and the welfare of my people, why should I allow an effeminate prince to ascend the throne after me, who would sacrifice the interest of the subject to his pleasures? and should he be obliged to expose his life in their behalf, would leave them to perish, rather than redress their grievances. I will call in a mere stranger to the crown, if he be but worthy of that honour, sooner than my own son, if he is unworthy.

'PETER.'

To this letter the czarowitz replied: 'Most gracious sovereign and father, I have read the letter which your majesty sent me of the 27th of October, 1715, after the interment of my wife; and all the answer I can make to it is, that if your majesty is determined to deprive me of the succession to the crown of Russia, on account of my inability, your will be done. I even request it of you very earnestly; because I judge not myself fit for government. My memory is greatly impaired; and without memory there is no managing affairs. The powers both of my body and mind are much weakened by the diseases to which I have been incident, and I am thereby incapacitated for the rule of so great a people. Such a charge requires a man far more vigorous than I am. For these reasons I am not ambitious to succeed you (whom God preserve through a length of years) in the crown of Russia, even though I had no brother, as I have one at present, whom God long preserve. As little will I for the future set up any claim to the succession: to the truth of which I solemnly swear, taking God to be my witness; and in testimony thereof I write and sign these presents. I put my children into your hands: and for myself I ask no more of you than a bare maintenance during my life, leaving the whole to your pleasure.

'Your humble servant and son,

'ALEXIS.'

Peter soon penetrated through the disguise his son had assumed, and therefore wrote him the above letter, dated January 19, 1716, and which he called his 'Last Admonition.'

[99] This letter was written about eight days before the birth of Peter Patrowitz, the czar's second son.

[100] This letter was couched in the following terms:—'Most gracious sovereign and father, yesterday morning I received your letter, of the 19th of this month: my indisposition hinders me from writing to you at large, but I am willing to embrace the monastic state, and I beg your gracious consent thereto.

'Your servant, and unworthy son,