residence and informed him that, in view of his defamations against Her Majesty, he had 24 hours in which to take his leave. Kicked out like a dishonest servant, the Marquis protested, argued, raged, and claimed that he would lodge a complaint with his government; finally, he accepted his fate and quickly packed up.
When he reached the first coach house along the way, an emissary from the Empress caught up with him and demanded that he give back the Order of St. Andrew, and the snuffbox with her portrait enameled in miniature on the lid which he had received some years before - while he was in good standing with the court. He refused to part with these relics. At the next stage, Bestuzhev conveyed to him, by another courier, a comminatory sentence from Elizabeth: “The Marquis de La Chetardie is not worthy of receiving personal commissions from Her Majesty.” At this sudden fall from grace, La Chetardie thought he was losing his mind. He asked Versailles to intervene in a matter that, in his view, insulted France as much as it insulted him. This time, it was Louis XV who set him in his place. As punishment for his maladroit initiatives, he should withdraw to his estate in Limousin, and stay there until further notice.
As for Elizabeth and her fellow pilgrims, after paying a pious visit to the monastery, they made their way back to Moscow where the ladies from Anhalt-Zerbst strove to appear natural in spite of their shame and dis appointment. Johanna was in a rage, knowing that she was now quite unwelcome in Russia and guess«168»
An Autocrat at Work and Play ing that she would be invited to take her ship out as soon as her daughter was wed. Sophia, for her part, tried to get over this series of setbacks by preparing for her conversion to orthodoxy with all the zeal of a neophyte. While she was scrupulously attending to everything said by the priest charged with initiating her into the faith of her new compatriots, Peter was off on a hunting excursion, merrily scouring the surrounding forests and plains, with his usual comrades. They were all from Holstein, they spoke only German among themselves, and they encouraged the Grand Duke to resist Russian traditions and stand fast to his Germanic origins.
On June 28, 1744, Sophia was finally received into the bosom of the Orthodox Church. She gave her baptism vows in Russian, without stumbling, and changed her first name to become Catherine Alexeyevna. She was not shocked at being required to give up her own religion - she had long understood that that was part of the price to be paid if one wished to marry a Russian of quality.
The following day, June 29, she presented herself at the imperial chapel for the engagement ceremony. The empress slowly stepped forward, under a silver canopy held aloft by eight generals. Behind her the Grand Duke Peter advanced, smiling idiotically all around, with the new Grand Duchess Catherine by his side, pale and deeply moved, her eyes lowered. The service, celebrated by Father Ambroise, was four hours long. Despite her recent illness, Catherine never faltered. Elizabeth was pleased with her future daughter-in-law. During the ball that brought the festivities to a close, Elizabeth noticed once more the contrast between the girl’s elegance and simplicity and the brazenness of the mother, who talked nonstop and was always putting herself forward.
Shortly thereafter, the entire court removed to Kiev, in great
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Terrible Tsarinas array. The young couple and Johanna came behind. Once again there were receptions, balls, parades and processions and, at the end of the day, for the tsarina (accustomed as she was to the social whirl), the strange feeling of having wasted considerable time.
During this three-month voyage, Elizabeth had pretended to be unaware that the world outside was on the move. England, it was said, was preparing to attack the Netherlands, while France was spoiling for a fight with Germany, and the Austrians were on the verge of confronting the French army. Versailles and Vienna were cunningly competing to secure Russia’s assistance, and Alexis Bestuzhev was straddling the fence the best he could, while awaiting precise instructions from Her Majesty. The empress, alarmed no doubt by her chancellor’s reports, decided to head back to Moscow. The court immediately picked up and moved, in a long, slow caravan, back to the north. Arriving at the old city of coronations, Elizabeth certainly expected to enjoy a few days of rest; she claimed to have been tired by all the celebrations in Kiev.
But as soon as she took in the stimulating Moscow air, her appetite was piqued for further entertainment and surprises. At her initiative, the balls, suppers, operas and masquerades started up once again, and at such a pace that even the youngest socialites started to bow out.
As the wedding date approached, Elizabeth decided to move back to St. Petersburg to oversee the preparations. The engaged couple and Johanna followed her, a few days behind. But, stepping down from the carriage at the stage house in Khotilovo, the Grand Duke Peter began to shiver. Pink blotches had broken out on his face. There could be no doubt: it was small pox - and few people survived that dread disease. An urgent message was sent to the empress. Elizabeth was terrified, hearing of this threat to her adoptive son’s life. Who could forget that, less than fifteen years earlier, the young tsar Peter II had succumbed to that very
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An Autocrat at Work and Play peril on the eve of his wedding? And by a strange coincidence, the bride-to-be, back in 1730, a Dolgoruky, was also called Catherine.
Was that name an evil omen for the Romanov dynasty?
Elizabeth refused to believe it, just as she refused to believe that the illness would be fatal. She gave orders to prepare the horses and took off for Khotilovo, to be near her heir and to ensure that he was receiving proper care. Meanwhile Catherine, thrown into a panic, had left Khotilovo for the capital. Along the way, she came upon Elizabeth’s sleigh. United by their anguish, the empress (who feared the worst for her succession), and the bride- tobe (who feared the worst for her own future) fell into each other’s arms. By now, Elizabeth had no more doubt that the Good Lord had guided her to place her confidence in this diminutive 15-yearold princess. Catherine was indeed the right wife for that simpleton, Peter, and the right daughter-in-law to enable her to enjoy life and end her days in peace. They set out again for Khotilovo, together. Arriving in the village, they went to see the Grand Duke, who was racked with fever, perspiring and shivering on a miserable cot. Was this pitiful scene the end of the dynasty of Peter the Great? And was this the end of Catherine’s aspirations? The empress was anxious to avoid infecting the girl before the wedding, so Catherine, at her request, set out again for St. Petersburg with her mother, leaving Her Majesty at the Grand Duke’s bedside.
For weeks, in a primitive and poorly heated hovel, Elizabeth watched over the stupid and ungrateful heir who had played such a nasty trick, trying to back out of the game just when they were both on the point of winning. And little by little, Peter’s fever diminished and he began to achieve some relative lucidity.
By the end of January 1745, Peter had recovered from the fever and the empress escorted him back to St. Petersburg. He had changed so much during his illness that Elizabeth was afraid the
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Terrible Tsarinas bride-to-be would be shocked - her fiance, never handsome, was now revolting. The small pox had disfigured him terribly. With his shaved head, swollen face, bloodshot eyes and cracked lips, he was a caricature of the young man he had been just a few months before. Catherine was sure to be horrified. Elizabeth put a big wig on Peter’s head in an attempt to improve his disastrous appearance, but topped with a cascade of false curls, he looked even worse. There wasn’t much to do but allow destiny take its course.
As soon as the travelers had arrived and settled into the Winter Palace, young Catherine rushed to visit her miraculously recuperated fiance. Elizabeth, heart in throat, presided over their reunion. At the sight of Grand Duke Peter, Catherine froze. Her mouth half-opened, her eyes wide, she stammered out some pleasantry to congratulate her fiance on his recovery, dropped a quick curtsey and fled as if she had just met a ghost.
