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Authors: Michael Farquhar
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in fact he had become horrid to look at.”
Some historians attribute Peter’s subsequent treatment of Catherine to her reflexive recoil at seeing him in such a state, but given his disposition, as well as his previously demonstrated attitude toward her, it seems inevitable that he would have made a vile spouse either way. Still, a deeper chasm did develop in the aftermath of the grand duke’s illness. “This was the end of all the Grand Duke’s attentions for me,” Catherine wrote. “I understood perfectly how little he wanted to see me and how little affection he bore me.”
It was in the thick of this frost that the empress, eager as ever, set a wedding date for the toxic couple. As she bustled about planning the festivities, which she insisted must be more extravagant than any ever seen in Europe, Elizabeth was blithely indifferent to the hostility her nephew had for his intended. She was also unaware of his woeful ignorance about the opposite sex, nor of the physical limitations that would make fully appreciating a woman almost impossible for him. Sure, Peter vaguely understood the mechanics of sex, relayed to him in the crudest way possible by his drinking pals, but that was the extent of it. And as for intimacy, the grand duke could never be taught that. In fact, about the only thing Peter grasped about marriage was what one of the servants relayed to him: that a husband should keep his wife submissive, and, if necessary, slap her around a bit should she forget her place. It was this lesson that Peter, “about as discreet as a cannonball,” delighted in passing along to Catherine.
Although her love life would later become legendary (see Chapter 8 ), Catherine was, at the time, actually more naïve about sex than Peter was. Several weeks before the wedding, the sixteen-year-old went to her mother for guidance about the opposite sex and was severely scolded for her sauciness.
Catherine may have been kept ignorant about what would actually happen when she went to bed with Peter, but she was wise enough to sense what was in store for her otherwise. “As my wedding day came nearer, I became more melancholy, and very often I would weep without quite knowing why,” she wrote. “My heart predicted little happiness; ambition alone sustained me. In my inmost soul there was something that never for a single moment allowed me to doubt that, sooner or later, I would become the sovereign Empress of Russia in my own right.”
On August 21, 1745, all of Empress Elizabeth’s meticulous planning came to fruition in a splendid wedding ceremony. “Of all the pompous shows in Russia,” reported one English observer, “the appearance made upon the [grand] duke’s marriage, in clothes and equipage, was the most magnificent.” Bride and groom were both dressed to dazzle, although the effort was wasted somewhat on Peter. “The sumptuous apparel only made him look more like a monkey,” as biographer Henri Troyat so artfully put it. It was all a glittering show that delighted the empress but disguised something essentially rotten. Then came the wedding night.
Catherine was undressed by her ladies and put to bed. There she waited for two hours before Peter arrived, drunk, and declared how amused the servants would be to see themin bed together. She awoke the next morning still a virgin. And so she would remain for the next eight years.
Her new husband had no interest in sleeping with her, nor, for that matter, was he capable. Though he certainly liked to crow about his prowess with other women, really all that interested the grossly immature grand duke was carousing with his low-level servants, playing with his toys, and indulging his obsession with all things military. There was no room for his wife, unless, of course, he was putting her through military drills. Stuck in this loveless rut, Catherine wrote, “I yawned and yawned with boredom.” She also came to a quick conclusion about Peter:
I should have loved my new
Some historians attribute Peter’s subsequent treatment of Catherine to her reflexive recoil at seeing him in such a state, but given his disposition, as well as his previously demonstrated attitude toward her, it seems inevitable that he would have made a vile spouse either way. Still, a deeper chasm did develop in the aftermath of the grand duke’s illness. “This was the end of all the Grand Duke’s attentions for me,” Catherine wrote. “I understood perfectly how little he wanted to see me and how little affection he bore me.”
It was in the thick of this frost that the empress, eager as ever, set a wedding date for the toxic couple. As she bustled about planning the festivities, which she insisted must be more extravagant than any ever seen in Europe, Elizabeth was blithely indifferent to the hostility her nephew had for his intended. She was also unaware of his woeful ignorance about the opposite sex, nor of the physical limitations that would make fully appreciating a woman almost impossible for him. Sure, Peter vaguely understood the mechanics of sex, relayed to him in the crudest way possible by his drinking pals, but that was the extent of it. And as for intimacy, the grand duke could never be taught that. In fact, about the only thing Peter grasped about marriage was what one of the servants relayed to him: that a husband should keep his wife submissive, and, if necessary, slap her around a bit should she forget her place. It was this lesson that Peter, “about as discreet as a cannonball,” delighted in passing along to Catherine.
Although her love life would later become legendary (see Chapter 8 ), Catherine was, at the time, actually more naïve about sex than Peter was. Several weeks before the wedding, the sixteen-year-old went to her mother for guidance about the opposite sex and was severely scolded for her sauciness.
Catherine may have been kept ignorant about what would actually happen when she went to bed with Peter, but she was wise enough to sense what was in store for her otherwise. “As my wedding day came nearer, I became more melancholy, and very often I would weep without quite knowing why,” she wrote. “My heart predicted little happiness; ambition alone sustained me. In my inmost soul there was something that never for a single moment allowed me to doubt that, sooner or later, I would become the sovereign Empress of Russia in my own right.”
On August 21, 1745, all of Empress Elizabeth’s meticulous planning came to fruition in a splendid wedding ceremony. “Of all the pompous shows in Russia,” reported one English observer, “the appearance made upon the [grand] duke’s marriage, in clothes and equipage, was the most magnificent.” Bride and groom were both dressed to dazzle, although the effort was wasted somewhat on Peter. “The sumptuous apparel only made him look more like a monkey,” as biographer Henri Troyat so artfully put it. It was all a glittering show that delighted the empress but disguised something essentially rotten. Then came the wedding night.
Catherine was undressed by her ladies and put to bed. There she waited for two hours before Peter arrived, drunk, and declared how amused the servants would be to see themin bed together. She awoke the next morning still a virgin. And so she would remain for the next eight years.
Her new husband had no interest in sleeping with her, nor, for that matter, was he capable. Though he certainly liked to crow about his prowess with other women, really all that interested the grossly immature grand duke was carousing with his low-level servants, playing with his toys, and indulging his obsession with all things military. There was no room for his wife, unless, of course, he was putting her through military drills. Stuck in this loveless rut, Catherine wrote, “I yawned and yawned with boredom.” She also came to a quick conclusion about Peter:
I should have loved my new
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