All the while, Falconet’s tribulations continued. He could not get the laurel-crowned head of the horseman right. At last it was completed by Callot, and, they say, all in one night. The only known woman sculptor of the period created what is generally acknowledged to be a very good likeness of Peter the Great. The face is comparatively small but broad, with jowls, a slightly pointed nose, and a sharp, willful jaw; the raised brows shade the fanatical gaze of the protruding eyes. Peter seemed to be both staring transfixed into the distance and at the same time angrily squinting at the viewer, something Pushkin noted later.
Nothing about this monument was simple, and every detail of the sculpture elicited arguments and nagging doubts in the sculptor and his clients. How should the horseman be dressed? What kind of horse? Lengthy discussion was provoked by Falconet’s idea of having a snake—allegory of evil and envy—under the horse’s hoofs. Catherine, who was to make the final decision on this issue, was unsure: “The allegorical snake neither pleases nor displeases me.”12 The question was resolved only after a flattering letter from Falconet to Catherine: every great person—Peter and, of course, the Empress Catherine—courageously overcame the envy of ungrateful contemporaries, insisted the sculptor; thus the snake could not be left out. Catherine, sensitive to every flattering comparison with Peter, agreed: “There is an ancient song which says, if it is necessary, then it is necessary. That is my answer regarding the snake.”13
It took four years to find a site for the monument. Even more dramatic was the search for and delivery of a huge hunk of granite for the pedestal. The stone was located twelve miles from the capital and even after initial carving weighed over fifteen hundred tons. It took thousands of people to move it and the process lasted over three years. The court poet, Vassily Ruban, sang its praises in verse typical of the epoch:
On August 7, 1782, on the hundredth anniversary of Peter’s ascension to the throne and sixteen years after Falconet began his work, the monument was at last unveiled. The sculptor himself was not there to see it. After an especially nasty argument with Catherine and accusations by courtiers that he had squandered money, Falconet fled to Paris. His last contribution to the monument was the text of the laconic inscription, which was to be engraved on the pedestal: “For Peter the First erected by Catherine the Second.” The final version of the inscription, edited by Catherine, read, “For Peter the First from Catherine the Second.” An accomplished writer, Catherine achieved much simply by removing the predicate. In Falconet’s draft, the accent was on “erected,” that is, on the monument. Catherine brought the “First-Second” continuity closer, thereby stressing, and legitimizing, her status as heir to the great monarch.
Petersburgers of various estates—from aristocrat to peasant—gathered at Senate Square on the banks of the Neva. The monument was covered with special curtains that opened when Catherine appeared; cannons were fired and military music resounded. The guards passed in review before the monument with their banners lowered.
On the occasion, Catherine declared an amnesty for criminals and debtors in jail. During a special liturgy celebrated by Peter’s tomb in the Cathedral of Peter and Paul, the metropolitan struck the tomb with his staff and cried, “Arise ye now, great monarch, and behold your pleasing invention: it has not withered in time nor has its glory dimmed!” This call to Peter was pronounced with such passion and bathos that the heir to the throne, little Paul, became afraid that “grandpa would get out of the coffin.” An aristocrat standing nearby quietly remarked to his neighbors, in an exercise of low-key Petersburg humor, “Why is he calling him? Once he gets up, we’ll all get it!”14
