Terrible Tsarinas

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 disappointment. Johanna was in a rage,

knowing that she was now quite unwelcome in Russia and guess-

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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 excur-

sion, 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 Cath-

erine 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 im-

perial chapel for the engagement ceremony. The empress slowly

stepped forward, under a silver canopy held aloft by eight gener-

als. Behind her the Grand Duke Peter advanced, smiling idioti-

cally all around, with the new Grand Duchess Catherine by his

side, pale and deeply moved, her eyes lowered. The service, cele-

brated by Father Ambroise, was four hours long. Despite her re-

cent illness, Catherine never faltered. Elizabeth was pleased with

her future daughter-in-law. During the ball that brought the fes-

tivities to a close, Elizabeth noticed once more the contrast be-

tween the girl’s elegance and simplicity and the brazenness of the

mother, who talked nonstop and was always putting herself for-

ward.

Shortly thereafter, the entire court removed to Kiev, in great

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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 appe-

tite 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, step-

ping 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 em-

press (who feared the worst for her succession), and the bride-to-

be (who feared the worst for her own future) fell into each other’s