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Authors: Michael Farquhar
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sickroom. Elizabeth then nursed Sophia herself, tending to her with the kindof maternal devotion that Johanna seemed incapable of providing.
At one point, when it looked as though Sophia might die, Johanna insisted that a Lutheran minister be brought to her. But the ailing princess requested an Orthodox priest instead. “This raised me in the eyes of the Empress and of the whole Court,” she recalled.
While Sophia basked in the approbation she received for her diligent efforts to become Russian—and especially her reliance on an Orthodox rather than Lutheran confessor during her time of peril—her mother nearly ruined everything. Almost as soon as Johanna arrived in Russia earlier that year, she had begun conspiring against Bestuzhev-Ryumin with the French and Prussian ambassadors, just as King Frederick II had instructed. It was a fool’s endeavor, which Bestuzhev-Ryumin quickly uncovered through intercepted letters and duly reported to the empress. Elizabeth was wild with rage at this scheming, ungrateful woman whom she had welcomed so generously and even granted membership in the prestigious Order of St. Catherine. Johanna was in disgrace, and it looked like her daughter was as well.
Sophia was sitting with Peter, laughing at something he had said, when the empress’s French physician and friend L’Estocq burst into the room. “This horseplay will stop at once,” he shouted. Then, turning to Sophia, he snarled, “You can go pack your bags. You will be leaving for home immediately.” It was a stunning declaration for both Sophia and Peter, neither of whom was aware of Johanna’s machinations, or that she had just been trapped. It was only when the empress entered the room to reassure Sophia that she did not hold her responsible for her mother’s treacherous behavior that the young princess could breathe again. But she had alsobecome aware in those anxious moments that her intended spouse cared nothing for her. Looking at him while her fate remained uncertain, she later wrote, “I saw clearly that he would have parted from me without regret.”
Even if Peter didn’t love her, so be it. Nothing would deter Sophia from her destiny. The young couple was formally betrothed on June 29, 1744, in a formal ritual at the Kremlin’s Cathedral of the Assumption, where Russian tsars had been crowned for generations. The day before, Sophia was formally converted from Lutheranism to Orthodoxy and given the new name of Catherine, as well as the title of Imperial Highness and the rank of grand duchess. The former German princess had made a significant step on her way to becoming a Russian royal. Marriage, however, would have to wait.
Peter was still sexually underdeveloped at the age of sixteen and incapable of siring an heir. Thus Elizabeth was urged to postpone his nuptials in order to give the grand duke more time to mature. Though impatient to secure the dynasty, the empress reluctantly agreed. Then, later that year, came disaster. Following a bout with the measles, the heir to the throne was stricken with the far more dangerous smallpox. Unexpectedly, given the risks to her life and, even more important, to her looks, it was the empress who lovingly tended to her nephew as he suffered the near-lethal effects of the contagious disease. And though Peter survived, he emerged from his sickbed looking almost monstrous. Catherine was barely able to contain her revulsion after seeing her future husband in this condition for the first time.
“The sight of the Grand Duke filled me almost with terror,” she wrote; “he had grown very much in stature but his face was unrecognizable—his features were coarser, his face was still swollen, and one could see beyond doubt that hewould always remain deeply pockmarked. His head had been shaven and he wore an immense wig which disfigured him all the more. He came up to me and asked whether I found it difficult to recognize him. I stammered a few wishes for his convalescence, but
At one point, when it looked as though Sophia might die, Johanna insisted that a Lutheran minister be brought to her. But the ailing princess requested an Orthodox priest instead. “This raised me in the eyes of the Empress and of the whole Court,” she recalled.
While Sophia basked in the approbation she received for her diligent efforts to become Russian—and especially her reliance on an Orthodox rather than Lutheran confessor during her time of peril—her mother nearly ruined everything. Almost as soon as Johanna arrived in Russia earlier that year, she had begun conspiring against Bestuzhev-Ryumin with the French and Prussian ambassadors, just as King Frederick II had instructed. It was a fool’s endeavor, which Bestuzhev-Ryumin quickly uncovered through intercepted letters and duly reported to the empress. Elizabeth was wild with rage at this scheming, ungrateful woman whom she had welcomed so generously and even granted membership in the prestigious Order of St. Catherine. Johanna was in disgrace, and it looked like her daughter was as well.
Sophia was sitting with Peter, laughing at something he had said, when the empress’s French physician and friend L’Estocq burst into the room. “This horseplay will stop at once,” he shouted. Then, turning to Sophia, he snarled, “You can go pack your bags. You will be leaving for home immediately.” It was a stunning declaration for both Sophia and Peter, neither of whom was aware of Johanna’s machinations, or that she had just been trapped. It was only when the empress entered the room to reassure Sophia that she did not hold her responsible for her mother’s treacherous behavior that the young princess could breathe again. But she had alsobecome aware in those anxious moments that her intended spouse cared nothing for her. Looking at him while her fate remained uncertain, she later wrote, “I saw clearly that he would have parted from me without regret.”
Even if Peter didn’t love her, so be it. Nothing would deter Sophia from her destiny. The young couple was formally betrothed on June 29, 1744, in a formal ritual at the Kremlin’s Cathedral of the Assumption, where Russian tsars had been crowned for generations. The day before, Sophia was formally converted from Lutheranism to Orthodoxy and given the new name of Catherine, as well as the title of Imperial Highness and the rank of grand duchess. The former German princess had made a significant step on her way to becoming a Russian royal. Marriage, however, would have to wait.
Peter was still sexually underdeveloped at the age of sixteen and incapable of siring an heir. Thus Elizabeth was urged to postpone his nuptials in order to give the grand duke more time to mature. Though impatient to secure the dynasty, the empress reluctantly agreed. Then, later that year, came disaster. Following a bout with the measles, the heir to the throne was stricken with the far more dangerous smallpox. Unexpectedly, given the risks to her life and, even more important, to her looks, it was the empress who lovingly tended to her nephew as he suffered the near-lethal effects of the contagious disease. And though Peter survived, he emerged from his sickbed looking almost monstrous. Catherine was barely able to contain her revulsion after seeing her future husband in this condition for the first time.
“The sight of the Grand Duke filled me almost with terror,” she wrote; “he had grown very much in stature but his face was unrecognizable—his features were coarser, his face was still swollen, and one could see beyond doubt that hewould always remain deeply pockmarked. His head had been shaven and he wore an immense wig which disfigured him all the more. He came up to me and asked whether I found it difficult to recognize him. I stammered a few wishes for his convalescence, but
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