Terrible Tsarinas: Five Russian Women in Power (23 page)

Thus at Elizabeth’s instigation Mrs. Choglokov, now transformed into a very intimate confidante, was to explain to Catherine that there are situations in which the honor of a woman requires that she agree to lose that honor for the good of the country. She swore to her that nobody - not even the empress - would blame her for transgressing the rules of marital fidelity. And so it was with the blessing of Her Majesty, Bestuzhev and Choglokov that she now found it possible to meet Sergei Saltykov for pleasures that went far beyond flirtatious conversation.

Meanwhile, the minor surgical procedure that those on high had decided should be visited upon the person of the grand duke was effected painlessly. To make sure that this flourish of the scalpel had made her nephew “operational,” Her Majesty sent the pretty young widow of the painter Groot to visit him; she was said to very apt at assessing a man’s capabilities. The lady’s report was conclusive: everything was in working order! The grand duchess would be able to judge for herself the (finally) normal capacities of her husband. Sergei Saltykov was relieved to hear this news; and Catherine was even more so. Indeed, it was high time that Peter should make an appearance, at least once, in her bed so that she could have him endorse the paternity of the child whom she had already been carrying for a few weeks.

Alas! on December 1750, during a shooting party, Catherine was racked with violent pains. A miscarriage. In spite of their disappointment, the tsarina and the Choglokovs redoubled their attentions; one way or another, they invited her to try again - with Saltykov or any other standin. At this point, it hardly mattered who the true father might be - it was the putative father that counted! In March 1753, Catherine found herself pregnant again; and suffered a second miscarriage, after a ball. Fortunately, the tsarina was obstinate: instead of despairing, she encouraged Saltykov in his role as stud, so that in February 1754, seven months after her last miscarriage, Catherine noted that she was again showing the hoped-for signs. The tsarina was notified immediately. The pregnancy appeared to be proceeding correctly, and she reckoned that it would be wise to remove Saltykov, whose services were no longer necessary. However, out of regard for her daughter-in-law’s morale, the empress decided to keep the lover in reserve, at least until the child was born.

Certainly, looking forward to this birth, Elizabeth regretted that the result would be a bastard who, although titular heir to the crown, would no longer have a single drop of Romanov blood in his veins. But this genealogical fraud (about which no one, of course, would be informed) was better than leaving the throne to the poor Tsarevich Ivan, now 12 years old and imprisoned at Ryazan (and due to be transferred to Schlusselburg). Pretending to believe that the expected child was the legitimate offspring of Peter, she smothered with attentions the adulterous mother who was now so indispensable. Torn between remorse for pulling off this epic hoax and pride for thus ensuring the continuity of the dynasty, she would have liked to throw stones at the crafty upstart who had made it possible, and who seemed to be manifesting a sensuality, an amorality and an audacity almost equal to her own; but she had to be circumspect, because it would be the historians of tomorrow who would judge her reign. In the eyes of the court, Her Majesty awaited with pious joy to see her so affectionate daughter-in-law bring into the world the first son of Grand Duke Peter, the providential fruit of a love blessed by the Church. It was not a woman who was to be confined, but all of Russia that was preparing to bring forth its future emperor.

For weeks, Elizabeth lodged in the apartment next to the chamber where the grand duchess waited for the great moment. One reason she wanted to stay so close to her daughter-in-law was to prevent the enterprising Sergei Saltykov from visiting her too often, which would set tongues wagging. Let Catherine just give birth, and let her present the country with a boy! Day after day, the tsarina made her calculations, questioned the doctors, consulted fortune-tellers and prayed before the icons.

During the night of September 19, 1754, after nine years of marriage, Catherine finally felt the first pains. The empress, Count Alexander Shuvalov and the Grand Duke Peter rushed to join her. At midday on September 20, 1754, seeing the baby, still sticky and smeared with blood, in the hands of the midwife, Elizabeth exulted: praise the Lord, it was a male! She had already chosen his first name: he would be Paul Petrovich (Paul, son of Peter).

Washed, wrapped in a blanket, and baptized by Her Majesty’s confessor, the newborn baby stayed only a minute in his mother’s arms. She barely had time to hold him, to take in his softness and his scent. He belonged not to her, but to all of Russia - or, rather, to the empress!

Leaving behind the exhausted and groaning grand duchess, Elizabeth carried Paul in her arms like a treasure that had been won at great cost. From now on, she would keep him in her private apartments, under her own care; she didn’t need Catherine anymore. Having fulfilled her role by giving birth, the grand duchess was of no further interest. She could just as well return to Germany, and no one in the palace would miss her.

The infant did not exhibit any distinctive “family resemblance” at this age; and so much the better. And anyway, whether he took after Catherine’s lover or her husband, the result would be the same. From this point forward, the Grand Duke Peter, pretentious monkey that he was, was only taking up space in the palace. He could disappear: the succession was assured!

All over the city, guns thundered in salute and bells rang joyfully. In her room, Catherine was quite abandoned; and not far away, behind the door sat the grand duke, surrounded by the officers of his Holstein regiment, emptying glass after glass to the health of “his son Paul.” As for the diplomats, Elizabeth suspected that in their usual caustic way they would have a field day commenting on the strange lineage of the heir to the throne. But she also knew that, even if the professionals were not taken in by this sleight-of-hand, nobody would dare to say out loud that little Paul Petrovich was a bastard and that the Grand Duke Peter was the most glorious cuckold of Russia. And it was that tacit adherence to an untruth, on the part of her contemporaries, that would transform it into certainty for the future generations. And Elizabeth cared above all for the judgment of posterity.

On the occasion of the baptism, Elizabeth decided to demonstrate how pleased she was with the mother by presenting her with a tray of jewels and a treasury order in the sum of 100,000 rubles: the purchase price of an authentic heir. Then, considering that she had shown her sufficient solicitude, she ordered (for the sake of decency) Sergei Saltykov dispatched on a mission to Stockholm. He was charged with conveying to the king of Sweden the official announcement of the birth of His Highness Paul Petrovich in St. Petersburg. She didn’t hesitate for a moment over the irony of sending the illegitimate father to collect congratulations for the legitimate father of the child. How long would such a mission last? Elizabeth did not specify, and Catherine was desperate. The tsarina had had too many romantic or sensual affairs in her life to wallow in sentiment over those of others.

While Catherine languished in her bed, waiting for the official “churching,” Elizabeth hosted receptions, balls and banquets. There was nonstop celebration at the palace for this event that had been ten years in the making. Finally, on November 1, 1754, forty days after giving birth, protocol required that the grand duchess receive the congratulations of the diplomatic corps and the court. Catherine, semi-recumbent on a ceremonial chaise upholstered in rose-colored velvet and embroidered in silver, received her visitors in a room that was richly furnished and brightly illuminated for the occasion. The tsarina herself came to inspect the rooms before the ceremony. But, immediately after the homage had been paid, she had the superfluous furniture and candelabra removed; at her instructions, the grand ducal couple found themselves back in their usual apartments at the Winter Palace - a subtle message to let Catherine know that her role was over and that, henceforth, reality would take the place of dreams.

Taking no notice of this family fracas, Peter returned to his puerile games and drinking bouts, while the grand duchess had to face the replacement of her former mentor, Choglokov, who had meanwhile passed away. The new “master of the junior court,” who seemed to be particularly nosy and meddlesome, was Count Alexander Shuvalov, Ivan’s brother. From the first moment, he sought to gain the sympathy of the habitués of the princely household; he cultivated Peter’s friendship and applauded his ill-considered passion for Prussia. With his support, the grand duke now let his Germanophilia run wild. He invited more recruits from Holstein and organized a fortified camp (which he gave the Germanic name of Peterstadt), in the park of the palace of Oranienbaum.

While he was thus amusing himself by pretending to be a German officer, commanding German troops on land that he wished were German, Catherine, feeling more forsaken than ever, sank into depression. As she had feared, shortly after she gave birth, Sergei Saltykov was sent first to Sweden, and then as Russia’s resident ambassador to Hamburg. Elizabeth may have hated her adoptive son, but she made a point of cutting off all ties between the two lovers. Moreover, she allowed Catherine to see her baby only on an exceptional basis. More than a possessive mother-in-law, she mounted a guard by the cradle and did not tolerate any input from the grand duchess on how the child was to be raised. Elizabeth ousted Catherine entirely from the role of mother, after she had carried Paul in her womb for nine months and gone through the pain of bringing him into the world.

Robbed and discouraged, Catherine turned to books: Tacitus’ Annals, Montesquieu’s The Spirit of Laws, and various essays by Voltaire. Cut off from love, she sought to mitigate this lack of human warmth by delving into the realms of philosophy and politics. Attending the salons of the capital, she listened with more attention than before to the conversations, often brilliant, of the diplomats. While her husband was entirely absorbed in military nonsense, she was gaining assurance and a maturity of mind that did not escape those in her entourage. Elizabeth, whose health was declining as that of Catherine was blossoming, became aware of the progressive metamorphosis of her daughter-in-law - but she could not tell whether she should be delighted or upset. Suffering from asthma and dropsy, in her declining years the tsarina clung to the still young and handsome Ivan Shuvalov. He became her principal reason for living and her best adviser. She wondered whether it would not be better if Catherine, like she, had a designated lover who would fulfill her in every sense and keep her from interfering in public affairs.

In 1751, at Pentecost, a new English plenipotentiary arrived in St. Petersburg. His name was Charles Hambury Williams and in his retinue was a bright young Polish aristocrat, Stanislaw August Poniatowski. The 23-year-old Poniatowski was avidly interested in Western culture, had participated in all the European salons, and was personally acquainted with the famous
Mme.

Geoffrin in Paris and in London enjoyed the friendship of the minister, Horace Walpole. He was said to be fluent in every language, at ease in every milieu and pleasing to every lady.

As soon as they set foot in Russia, Williams set out to use “the Pole” to seduce the grand duchess and make her an ally in the fight he intended to wage against the grand duke’s pro-Prussian passion. And the Chancellor, supported by everyone in the “Russian party,” was happy to go along with the British ambassador’s plans. Having seen which way the wind was blowing, Bestuzhev wanted to see Russia openly aligned with the English in the event of a conflict with Frederick II. According to the rumor mill, Louis XV himself, smelling war, was impatient to reestablish contact with Russia. Day by day, thanks to her conversations with Stanislaw Poniatowski, Catherine became immersed in every aspect of the European chaos, studying international questions while studying the face of the attractive Pole.

But Poniatowski, despite his many social successes, was terribly shy. Quick with words, he was nonetheless paralyzed by the elegance, grace and talented repartee of the grand duchess. It took a nudge from Leon Naryshkin, Sergei Saltykov’s cheerful companion in adventure, to push Poniatowski to declare his interest. Miss Vladislavov, Catherine’s chambermaid and confidante, facilitated their first meetings at Oranienbaum. Always well-informed about such intrigues, the tsarina soon heard that her daughter-in-law had found a substitute for Saltykov, that her latest lover was Poniatowski and that the lovebirds were together constantly while the husband, indifferent, closed his eyes.

Elizabeth didn’t mind that her daughter-in-law was straying, but she did wonder whether there might not be a political motive behind this love affair. It suddenly occurred to her that there were two rival courts in Russia, one centered around Her Majesty and one centered around the grand-ducal couple - and that the interests of these two centers of power were at odds.

To secure the sympathies of “the great court,” traditionally Francophile, Louis XV sent to St. Petersburg a high-level emissary, Sir Mackenzie Douglas. A Scotsman by origin, he was a partisan of the Stuarts and had taken refuge in France; he was part of the “parallel cabinet” of Louis the Well-Loved, called “the King’s Secret.” His purported mission in Russia was to buy furs; meanwhile, he took the opportunity to communicate to the tsarina a confidential code that would enable her to correspond directly with Louis XV. Before he even started out, Douglas had been informed that his mission had become more delicate than envisaged, for Bestuzhev was now in the pay of London and was serving the British cause. Even the grand duchess, supported by her current lover, was said to be inclined in favor of the English. And Poniatowski, during his temporary absence from the Polish court, had just been granted a prominent official position: he was named Minister for the King of Poland in Russia. Thus his presence in the Russian capital was made more reliable, long-term, giving Catherine more confidence in the possibility of a peaceful future for their relationship. She was further comforted by a certain easing of restrictions in her regard on the part of Alexis Bestuzhev.