Terrible Tsarinas: Five Russian Women in Power (7 page)

Aunt and nephew were only reconciled after Easter. Forsaking Dolgoruky for once, Peter took Elizabeth along on an extended shooting party. The expedition was expected to last several months. A 500-person retinue accompanied the couple. Wild fowl as well as large game were the quarries. When the time came to track a wolf, a fox or a bear, valets in silver-trimmed green livery did the job. They would attack the animal with rifles and spears, under the interested eyes of the Masters. After a perusal of the hunting spectacle, a banquet would be held in the open air, followed by a visit to the merchants who came from far and wide to display their fabrics, embroideries, miraculous ointments and costume jewelry.

A piece of alarming news caught Peter and Elizabeth by surprise in the midst of all this revelry: Natalya, Peter’s sister, took sick; she was spitting blood. Was she going to die? But no, she recovered; instead, Elizabeth’s sister in Kiel, Anna Petrovna, Duchess of Holstein, gave her close relatives more serious concern. She had caught cold while watching the fireworks during her churching. Pneumonia, the doctors declared; and in a few days, she was gone. The poor thing was only 20 years old; and she left an orphaned son, Charles Ulrich, just two weeks old. Everyone around Peter was dismayed. He alone expressed no regret at her passing. Some wondered whether he was still capable of human feeling. Was it the excessive indulgence in forbidden pleasures that had desiccated his heart?

When the body of his aunt, of whom he used to be so fond, was brought back to St. Petersburg, he didn’t bother to go to the burial. And he didn’t even cancel the ball that was habitually given at the palace at that time. A few months later, in November 1728, it was his sister Natalya’s turn - her consumption, which had been thought to be under control, abruptly took a turn for the worse. Although Peter was, as it happened, off hunting and fooling around in the countryside, he resigned himself to a return to St. Petersburg in order to be at the patient’s bedside for her final moments. He impatiently listened to Ostermann’s and Natalya’s friends lamentations, and their praise of the virtues of this princess “who was an angel.” As soon as she died, December 3, 1728, he rushed off again for the domain of Gorenky, where the Dolgorukys were preparing another of their formidable shooting parties for him. This time, he did invite Elizabeth to accompany him.

Without exactly being tired of the young woman’s attentions and coquetry, he felt the need for a change in personnel among his playmates. To justify his fickleness, people said that it was normal for a healthy man to enjoy a succession of relationships more than dreary fidelity.

At the palace, at Gorenky, a happy surprise awaited him. Alexis, the head of the Dolgoruky clan and a skilful organizer of hunts for his guest, introduced Peter to a new breed of game: the prince’s three daughters, all fresh, available and tempting, with an air of provocative virginity. The eldest, Catherine (Katya to close friends), was breathtakingly beautiful, with ebony hair, eyes of black flame and a soft, matte skin that flushed pink with the least emotion. Bold of temperament, she was a full participant in everything from stag hunt to banquet and toasts; she was clever at parlor games and graceful at the impromptu dances that were put on after hours of riding through the countryside. Observers agreed in predicting that Ivan would soon be supplanted by his sister, the delightful Katya, in the heart of the inconstant tsar. Either way, the Dolgoruky family was ahead.

However, in St. Petersburg, the rivals of the Dolgoruky coalition feared that this passing fancy, the reverberations of which were already being heard, might lead to marriage. Such a union would end up making the tsar totally subservient to his in-laws and would close the door on the other members of the Supreme Privy Council. Peter seemed to be so smitten by his Katya that he had hardly returned to St. Petersburg when he decided to leave again. If he bothered to stop in the capital at all, it was only to round out his hunting gear. Having bought 200 hunting hounds and 400 greyhounds, he headed back to Gorenky. But, back where he’d enjoyed such great exploits in the field, he no longer seemed very sure how much fun he was having. He was bored, counting the hares, foxes and wolves that he had killed in the course of the day. One evening, citing the three bears listed in his hunting record, somebody complimented him for this latest prowess. With a sarcastic smile, he replied: “I did better than take three bears; I’m taking with me four two-footed animals.” His interlocutor recognized that as an unkind allusion to prince Alexis Dolgoruky and his three daughters. Such mockery, in public, made people suppose that, after the initial combustion, perhaps the tsar no longer burned so intensely for Katya and that he might be on the verge of abandoning her.

Ostermann, an astute strategist, followed the ups and downs of this unpredictable couple from afar, through the gossip and rumor mills of the court. Now he set about preparing a counteroffensive. Her grief at the death of her sister Anna having run its course, Elizabeth was again available. Admittedly, her thoughts often turned toward that baby, her nephew, deprived of tenderness and growing up at a distance, practically becoming a stranger. She wondered, from time to time, whether she should not draw him back in, nearer to her. And then the events of the day would distract her from these thoughts, so worthy of a guardian. It was even said that after a mystical crisis, she was experiencing such a new zest for life that she had fallen under the spell of the charming heir of a great family, the very seductive Count Simon Naryshkin. This magnificent and refined gentleman was of the same age as she, and his assiduous pursuit, over hill and dale, like an indefatigable barbet spaniel, showed how much they both enjoyed their tete-a-tetes. When she withdrew to her estate at Ismailovo, she invited him over. There, they enjoyed the healthy and simple joys of the countryside. What could be pleasanter than playing in the country with palaces and flocks of servants in the background? Every day they went to collect nuts, pick flowers, and hunt for mushrooms, speaking with a paternal kindness to the serfs on the estate, taking an interest in the health of the animals grazing in the meadows or ruminating in the cattle sheds.

While Ostermann quizzed the spies whom he had sent to Ismailovo, keeping tabs on the progress of Simon Naryshkin and Elizabeth’s bucolic love affair, the Dolgorukys in Gorenky continued to cherish, in spite of some alarms, the idea of a marriage between Katya and the tsar.

To cover all the bases, they thought it would be appropriate not only to wed Tsar Peter II to Catherine Dolgoruky, but for good measure to marry his aunt Elizabeth to Ivan Dolgoruky, as well. However, now the latest tidings held that the idiotic Elizabeth was infatuated with Naryshkin. Such an unexpected crush was liable to upset the entire plan. This would have to be stamped out at once! Going for broke, the Dolgorukys threatened to have Elizabeth locked up in a convent for misconduct if she insisted on preferring Naryshkin over Dolgoruky. But the young woman had the blood of Peter the Great in her veins, and in a flash of pride, she refused to obey. The Dolgorukys, however, had all the connections. The principal apparatuses of the State did their bidding, and Naryshkin received an order from the Supreme Privy Council to set out immediately on a foreign mission. He would be kept abroad for as long as necessary for Elizabeth to forget about him.

Frustrated once more in love, she wept, raged and pondered how to take her revenge. However, she quickly recognized that she was impotent to fight agains t the machinations of the High Council. And she could not even count on Peter to defend her interests anymore: he was far too absorbed by his own sentimental problems to deal with those of his aunt. According to the gossip, he had almost repudiated Katya when he learned that she had had clandestine meetings with another aspirant, a certain Count Millesimo, an attache at the German embassy in Russia. Frightened by the consequences of such a break-up, and under pressure to keep the tsar from balking, the Dolgorukys arranged for a discreet tete-a-tete between Katya and Peter, in a hunting lodge, hoping for a reconciliation. And that very evening, showing up just at the moment of the first caresses, the girl’s father declared the family’s honor to have been outraged and he demanded formal reparations. The strangest thing is that this crude subterfuge bore fruit. It is impossible to know whether the “culprit” thus surprised in flagrante delicto by an indignant pater familias finally gave in to his feelings for Katya, to fear of scandal, or simply to laziness.

In any event, on Catherine’s birthday, October 22, 1729, the Dolgorukys revealed to their guests that the girl had just been promised in marriage to the Tsar. On November 19, the Supreme Privy Council received the official announcement of the engagement and, on the 30th, a religious ceremony was held in Moscow at Lefortovo Palace, where Peter generally stayed during his brief stops in that city. The old tsarina Eudoxia agreed to come out of retirement to bless the young couple. All the dignitaries of the empire, all the foreign ambassadors were present in the room, awaiting the arrival of the bride-elect. Her brother Ivan, Peter’s former favorite, went to escort her from Golovin Palace, where she was staying with her mother. The procession traversed the city, cheered by a crowd of good people who, looking on such youth and such magnificence, thought they beheld the happy conclusion of a fairytale. At the entrance to the Lefortovo Palace, the crown surmounting the roof of the coach in which the bride was riding struck the lintel of the gateway and crashed resoundingly to the pavement. Superstitious onlookers saw this incident as a bad omen.

But Katya did not stumble. Crossing the threshold of the ceremonial hall, she stood perfectly straight. Bishop Feofan Prokopovich invited her to come forward with Peter. The couple took their places under a silver and gold canopy held aloft by two generals. After the rings were exchanged, artillery salutes and pealing bells preceded a long stream of congratulations. According to protocol, the Tsarevna Elizabeth Petrovna stepped forward and, trying to forget that she was the daughter of Peter the Great, kissed the hand of a “subject” named Catherine Dolgoruky. A bit later, it was Peter II’s turn to swallow his spite, for the Count de Millesimo, having approached Catherine, was bowing down before her. She was just about to extend her hand to him. Peter would have liked to prevent that gesture of courtesy, which he considered out of place. But she moved too quickly, and spontaneously presented her fingers to the attache, who brushed them with his lips before standing straight again, under the murderous gaze of the groom. Seeing the tsar’s rage, Millesimo’s friends took him by the elbow and propelled him into the crowd, where they disappeared. At this point Prince Vasily Dolgoruky, one of the most eminent members of this large family, felt that the proper time had come to address a short homily to his niece. “Yesterday, I was your uncle,” he said, facing a circle of attentive listeners.

“Now, you are my sovereign and I am your faithful servant. However, I call upon my former rights in giving you this advice: do not look upon the one whom you are marrying as your husband only, but also as your master, and make it your only concern to please him… If any member of your family asks you for a favor, forget it and consider only the merits of the situation. That will be the best means of ensuring all the happiness that I wish you.”1 These judicious words completely spoiled Peter’s mood. He scowled until the end of the reception. Even during the fireworks at the end of the celebration, he did not so much as glance at the woman with whom he had just exchanged pledges of eternal love and confidence. The more he looked out at the faces surrounding him, the more he felt that he had fallen into a trap.

While he had allowed himself to be buffeted about between political intrigues, women, drink and the pleasures of hunting, the Supreme Privy Council had, after a fashion, managed the affairs of State. At the initiative of these wise men and with the tsar’s concurrence, measures were taken to reinforce their control over the magistrature, to regulate the use of bills of exchange, to ban the clergy from wearing lay clothing and to keep knowledge of Russia’s problems reserved to the Senate. In short, in spite of the emperor’s defection, the empire went on.

Meanwhile, Peter learned that his sweetheart Ivan Dolgoruky was planning to marry little Natalya Sheremetiev. To be honest, he did not see much problem in giving up his former favorite to a rival. It was agreed that, to affirm the bond of friendship between the four young people, their two marriages should be celebrated the same day. However, this reasonable arrangement still troubled Peter. Everything and everybody had disappointed him and annoyed him. There was no place where he could feel comfortable and he did not have anyone whom he felt he could trust.

Shortly before the end of the year, he paid a surprise visit to Elizabeth, whom he had neglected for the last several months. He found her poorly housed, poorly served, and lacking the essentials - whereas she should have been the first lady in the empire. He had gone to her to complain about his own distress, and instead it was she who complained to him about her destitution. She accused the Dolgorukys of having humiliated her, of ruining her and of preparing to dominate him through the wife that they had tossed into his arms. Shaken by his aunt’s complaints (and still secretly in love with her), he answered, “This is not my fault!

No one obeys me; but I will soon find the means to break my chains!”12 These remarks were reported to the Dolgorukys, who put their heads together to work out a response that would be effective while preserving the appearance of respecting the tsar. Moreover, they had another family problem on their hands that required urgent intervention: Ivan had fallen out with his sister Katya, who had lost all sense of restraint since her engagement and was laying claim to the late Grand Duchess Natalya’s diamonds, saying that the tsar had promised them to her. This sordid quarrel over a box of jewels was liable to irritate Peter just at the moment when they needed more than ever to dampen his mistrust. But how could they make a woman listen to reason, when she was less sensitive to male logic than to the glitter of precious stones?