Great Catherine (Whom Glory Still Adores) — A Reader’s Guide

The Author’s Apology as a Thematic Key

Shaw’s preface, titled “The Author’s Apology for Great Catherine,” does not apologize for the play’s levity but instead defends it. He argues that Catherine’s diplomacy and conquests do not interest him, and that the French Revolution “surprised and scandalized her as much as it surprised and scandalized any provincial governess.” This framing is crucial: Shaw presents his Catherine as a creature of court intrigue, not of world-historical forces. The preface also mentions Patiomkin’s sham cities—scenic deceptions built to fool the Empress—which foreshadows the theatrical humbug that drives the play’s comedy. Readers should note that the preface is part of the text, not a separate essay; it sets up the play’s tone of irreverent historical commentary.

The English Captain as a Comic Foil

The excerpt from the first scene introduces Captain Edstaston, an Englishman who is carried into Catherine’s presence against his will. His dialogue is marked by stammering and self-contradiction: he protests being carried, yet admits he “naturally” admired the Empress’s uniform. Catherine and her court, especially the manipulative Varinka, twist his words into a confession of insolent admiration. Edstaston’s claim that “all Europe is a party to that insolence” is met with the Princess Dashkoff’s retort that admiration should be kept “at a respectful distance.” The scene’s comedy hinges on Edstaston’s inability to navigate courtly double-talk, and on Catherine’s sudden shifts from fishwife insults (“Schweig, du Hund”) to regal condescension. This dynamic suggests the play’s interest in the performance of power rather than its substance.

Language and Power in the Courtroom

Shaw’s dialogue in the excerpt layers German, French-inflected English, and blunt commands to create a multilingual power struggle. Catherine switches from a “fishfag” tone to “cold majesty” within lines, while Patiomkin communicates through “agonized wheezing groans.” The courtiers speak in stylized accusations, and Edstaston’s plain English (“I speak as a practical man”) is repeatedly outmatched. The scene ends with Catherine slapping Edstaston’s cheek coquettishly—a gesture that blends violence and flirtation. This blend of tones, from farce to menace, is characteristic of Shaw’s method. The excerpts do not reveal the full plot, but they show that the play’s comedy arises from the collision of English literal-mindedness with Russian courtly artifice.

Because the excerpts cover only the preface and the opening of the first scene, readers should be cautious about inferring the play’s overall arc. The catalog classifies the work as “Adventure & Picaresque Fiction,” but the available text suggests a satirical comedy of manners. Pay attention to how Shaw uses the preface to license his irreverent treatment of a historical figure, and watch for further scenes that may expand on the themes of performance, national character, and the gap between public image and private reality.

I found myself thinking about how Shaw makes Catherine so human, so delightfully unbothered by her own contradictions, and it reminded me of another flawed ruler who lingers this way. There’s a rawness in how their true natures slip through the grand stories we tell. That same quiet ache stays with you after reading King John — A Closer Reading.