Memoirs of the Empress Catherine II.
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Title: Memoirs of the Empress Catherine II.
Author: Empress of Russia Catherine II
Translator: Aleksandr Herzen
Release date: July 25, 2014 [eBook #46407]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF THE EMPRESS CATHERINE II. ***
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MEMOIRS
OF THE
EMPRESS CATHERINE II.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
WITH A PREFACE BY A. HÉRZEN.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
346 & 348 BROADWAY.
M.DCCC.LIX.
PREFACE.
Some hours after the death of the Empress Catherine, her son, the
Emperor Paul, ordered Count Rostoptchine to put the seals upon her
papers. He was himself present at the arrangement of these papers. Among
them was found the celebrated letter of Alexis Orloff,[1] in which, in a
cynical tone and with a drunken hand, he announced to the Empress the
assassination of her husband Peter III. There was also a manuscript,
written entirely by the hand of Catherine herself, and enclosed in a
sealed envelope, bearing this inscription:--"_To his Imperial Highness,
the Cesarewitch and Grand Duke Paul, my beloved son._" Under this
envelope was the manuscript of the Memoirs which we now publish.
The manuscript terminates abruptly towards the close of the year 1759.
It is said that there were with it some detached notes, which would have
served as materials for its continuation. Some persons affirm that Paul
threw these into the fire; but nothing certain is known upon this point.
Paul kept his mother's manuscript a great secret, and never entrusted
it to any one but the friend of his childhood Prince Alexander
Kourakine. The Prince took a copy of it. Some twenty years after the
death of Paul, Alexander Tourgeneff and Prince Michael Worontzoff
obtained copies from the transcript of Kourakine. The Emperor Nicholas
having heard of this, gave orders to the Secret Police to seize all the
copies. Amongst them was one written at Odessa, by the hand of the
celebrated poet Pouschkine. A complete stop was now put to the further
circulation of the Memoirs.
The Emperor Nicholas had the original brought to him by the Count D.
Bloudoff, read it, sealed it with the great seal of state, and ordered
it to be kept in the imperial archives, among the most secret documents.
To these details, which I extract from a notice communicated to me, I
ought to add that the first person who spoke to me on the subject was
Constantine Arsenieff, the preceptor of the present Emperor. He told me,
in 1840, that he had obtained permission to read many secret documents
relative to the events which followed the death of Peter I, up to the
reign of Alexander I. Among these documents, he was authorized to read
the Memoirs of Catherine II. (At that time he was teaching the Modern
History of Russia to the Grand Duke, the heir presumptive.)
During the Crimean war, the archives were transferred to Moscow. In the
month of March, 1855, the present Emperor had the manuscript brought to
him to read. Since that period one or two copies have again circulated
at Moscow and St. Petersburg. It is from one of these that we now
publish the Memoirs. As to their authenticity, there is not the least
room for doubt. Besides, it is only necessary to read two or three pages
of the text to be quite satisfied on the point.
We have abstained from all corrections of the style, in every case in
which it was not evident that the copy presented some fault of
transcription.
Passing to the Memoirs themselves, what do we find?
The early years of Catherine II--of that woman-Emperor, who occupied for
more than a quarter of a century all contemporary minds, from Voltaire
and Frederic II to the Khan of the Crimea and the Chiefs of the
Kirghis--_her young days described by herself!_ ... What is there for
the Editor to add to this?
In reading these pages, we behold her entering on the scene, we see her
forming herself to that which she afterwards became. A frolicsome girl
of fourteen, her head dressed "_à la Moïse_," fair, playful, betrothed
of a little idiot, the Grand Duke, she has already caught the disease of
the Winter Palace--the thirst of dominion. One day, while "perched" with
the Grand Duke upon a window-sill, and joking with him, she saw Count
Lestocq enter: "Pack up your things," he said, "you are off for
Germany." The young idiot seemed but little affected by the threatened
separation. "It was pretty nearly a matter of indifference to me also,"
says the little German girl; "_but the Crown of Russia was not so_,"
adds the Grand Duchess.
Here we have, in the bud, the Catherine of 1762!
To dream of the crown, however, was quite natural in the atmosphere of
that court; natural not only for the betrothed of the Heir Presumptive,
but for every one. The groom Biren, the singer Rasoumowsky, the Prince
Dolgorouky, the plebeian Menchikoff, the oligarch Volynski--every one
was anxious for a shred of the imperial mantle. The crown of Russia,
after Peter I, was a _res nullius_.
Peter I, a terrorist and reformer, before all things, had no respect for
legitimacy. His absolutism sought to reach even beyond the tomb. He gave
himself the right of appointing his successor, and instead of appointing
him, he contented himself with ordering the assassination of his own
son.
After the death of Peter, the nobles assembled for deliberation.
Menchikoff put a stop to all discussion, and proclaimed as empress his
old mistress, the widow of a brave Swedish dragoon, slain upon the field
of battle, the widow of Peter also, to whom Menchikoff had resigned her
"through devotion" to his master.
The reign of Catherine I was short. After her the crown passed from head
to head as chance directed: from the once Livonian tavern-keeper, to a
street-boy (Peter II); from this street-boy who died of small-pox, to
the Duchess of Courland (Anne); from the Duchess of Courland to a
Princess of Mecklenburg (wife of a Prince of Brunswick), who reigned in
the name of an infant in the cradle (Ivan); from this boy, born _too
late_ to reign, the crown passed to the head of a woman born _too
soon_--Elizabeth. She it is who represents legitimacy.
Tradition broken, the people and the state completely separated by the
reforms of Peter I, _coups d'état_ and palace revolutions were the order
of the day; nothing was fixed. The inhabitants of St. Petersburg, when
retiring at night, knew not under whose government they should awake in
the morning; they consequently took but little interest in changes,
which, after all, did not essentially concern any but a few German
intriguers, become Russian ministers, a few great nobles grown gray in
perjury and crime, and the regiment of Preobrajensky, which disposed of
the crown like the Pretorians of old. For all others, everything
remained unchanged. And when I say others, I speak only of the nobles
and officials; for as to the great silent people--that people prostrate,
sad, stupefied, dumb--it was never thought of. The people was beyond the
pale of the law, and passively accepted the terrible trial which God had
sent it, caring little for the spectres which mounted with tottering
steps the ascent to the throne; gliding like shadows, and disappearing
in Siberia, or in the dungeons. The people was sure to be pillaged in
any case. Its social condition therefore was beyond the reach of
accident.
What a strange period! The imperial throne, as we have elsewhere
said,[2] was like the bed of Cleopatra. A crowd of oligarchs, of
strangers, of panders, of minions, led forth nightly an unknown, a
child, a German; placed the puppet on the throne, worshipped it, and, in
its name, gave the knout to all who presumed to question the
arrangement. Scarcely had the chosen one time to become intoxicated with
the delights of an exorbitant and absurd power, and to condemn his
enemies to slavery or torture, when the succeeding wave raised up
another pretender, and the chosen of yesterday, with all his followers,
was ingulphed in the abyss. The ministers and generals of one day, were
the next on their way to Siberia, loaded with chains.
This _bufera infernale_ carried away people with such rapidity, that
there was not time to get accustomed to their faces. Marshal Munich, who
had overturned Biren, rejoined him on a raft, stopped upon the Volga,
himself a prisoner, with chains on his feet. It is in the struggle of
these two Germans, who disputed the empire of Russia as if it had been a
jug of beer, that we may retrace the true type of the _coups d'état_ of
the good old times.
The Empress Anne died, leaving the crown, as we have just said, to a
child only a few months old, under the Regency of her lover Biren. The
Duke of Courland was all-powerful. Despising everything Russian, he
wished to civilize us with the lash. In the hope of strengthening
himself, he destroyed with a cold-blooded cruelty hundreds of men, and
drove into exile more than twenty thousand. Marshal Munich got tired of
this; he was a German as well as Biren, and besides a good soldier. One
day, the Princess of Brunswick, the mother of the little Emperor,
complained to him of the arrogance of Biren. "Have you spoken on this
subject to any one else?" asked the Marshal. "I have not." "Very well,
then; keep silent, and leave everything to me." This was on the 7th of
September, 1740.
On the 8th, Munich dined with Biren. After dinner he left his family
with the Regent, and retired for a moment. Going quietly to the
residence of the Princess of Brunswick, he told her to be prepared for
the night, and then returned. Supper came on. Munich gave anecdotes of
his campaigns, and of the battles he had gained. "Have you made any
nocturnal expeditions?" asked the Count de Loewenhaupt. "I have made
expeditions at all hours," replied the Marshal, with some annoyance. The
Regent, who was indisposed, and was lying on a sofa, sat up at these
words, and became thoughtful.
They parted friends.
Having reached home, Munich ordered his aide-de-camp, Manstein, to be
ready by two o'clock. At that hour they entered a carriage, and drove
straight to the Winter Palace. There he had the Princess awakened. "What
is the matter?" said the good German, Anthony Ulrich, of
Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, to his wife. "I am not well," replied the
Princess.--And Anthony Ulrich turned over and slept like a top.
While he slept, the Princess drest herself, and the old warrior
conferred with the most turbulent of the soldiers in the Preobrajensky
regiment. He represented to them the humiliating position of the
Princess, spoke of her future gratitude, and as he spoke, bade them load
their muskets.
Then leaving the Princess under the guard of some _forty_ grenadiers, he
proceeded with _eighty_ others to arrest the chief of the state, the
terrible Duke of Courland.
They traversed without impediment the streets of St. Petersburg; reached
the palace of the Regent; entered it; and Munich sent Manstein to arrest
the Duke in his bed-chamber, living or dead. The officers on duty, the
sentinels, and the servants looked on. "Had there been a single officer
or soldier faithful," says Manstein, in his memoirs, "we were lost." But
there was not one. Biren, perceiving the soldiers, endeavoured to escape
by creeping under the bed. Manstein had him forced out: Biren defended
himself. He received some blows from the butt-ends of their muskets, and
was then conveyed to the guard-house.
The _coup d'état_ was accomplished. But something stranger still was
soon to follow.
Biren was detested; that might explain his fall. The new Regent, on the
contrary--a good and gentle creature, who gave umbrage to no one while
she gave much love to the Ambassador Linar--was even liked a little
from hatred to Biren. A year passed. All was tranquil. But the court of
France was dissatisfied with an Austro-Russian alliance which the Regent
had just concluded with Maria Theresa. How was this alliance to be
prevented? Nothing easier. It was only to make a _coup d'état_, and
expel the Regent. In this case, we have not even a marshal reverenced by
the soldiers, not even a statesman. An intriguing physician, Lestocq,
and an intriguing ambassador, La Chétardie, are sufficient to carry to
the throne, Elizabeth, daughter of Peter I.
Elizabeth, absorbed in pleasures and petty intrigues, little thought of
overturning the government. She was led to believe that the Regent
intended to shut her up in a convent. She, Elizabeth, who spent her time
in the barracks of the guards, and in licentious excesses ... better
make herself Empress! So also thought La Chétardie; and he did more than
think; he gave French gold to hire a handful of soldiers.
On the 25th of November, 1741, the Grand Duchess, dressed in a
magnificent robe, and with a brilliant cuirass on her breast, presented
herself at the guard-house of the Preobrajensky regiment. She exposed to
the soldiers her unhappy condition. They, reeking with wine, cried out,
"Command, mother, command, and we will slaughter them all!" The
charitable Grand Duchess recoils with horror, and _only_ orders the
arrest of the Regent, her husband, and their son--the _baby_-Emperor.
Once again is the old scene repeated.
Anthony Ulrich, of Braunschweig, is awakened from the most profound
slumber; but this time he cannot relapse into it again, for two soldiers
wrap him up in a sheet and carry him to a dungeon, which he will leave
only to go and die in exile.
Again is the _coup d'état_ accomplished.
The new reign seems to go on wheels. And once more nothing is wanting to
this strange crown ... but an heir. The Empress who will have nothing to
do with the little Ivan, seeks one in the Episcopal palace of the
Prince-Bishop of Lubeck. It is the nephew of the Bishop whom she
selects, a grandson of Peter I, an orphan without father or mother, and
the intended husband of the little Sophia Augusta Frederica, Princess of
Anhalt-Zerbst-Bernburg, who resigned all these sonorous and illustrious
titles to be called simply ... _Catherine II_.
And now, after all that has been said, let the reader picture to himself
what must have been the nature of the medium into which destiny had cast
this young girl, gifted, as she was, not only with great talent, but
also with a character pliant, though full of pride and passion.
Her position at St. Petersburg was horrible. On one side was her mother,
a peevish, scolding, greedy, niggardly, pedantic German, boxing her
ears, and taking away her new dresses to appropriate them to her own
use; on the other, the Empress Elizabeth, a coarse and grumbling
virago, never quite sober, jealous, envious, causing every step of the
young Princess to be watched, every word reported, taking offence at
everything, and all this after having given her for a husband the most
ridiculous Benedict of the age.
A prisoner in the palace, she could do nothing without permission. If
she wept for the death of her father, the Empress sent her word that she
had grieved enough. "That her father was not a king, that she should
mourn him longer than a week." If she evinced a friendship for any of
her maids of honour, she might be sure the lady would be dismissed. If
she became attached to a faithful servant, still more certain was it
that that servant would be turned away.
Her relations with the Grand Duke were monstrous, degrading. He made her
the confidante of his amorous intrigues. Drunk from the age of ten, he
came one night in liquor to entertain his wife with a description of the
graces and charms of the daughter of Biren; and as Catherine pretended
to be asleep, he gave her a punch with his fist to awaken her. This
booby kept a kennel of dogs, which infested the air, at the side of his
wife's bed-chamber, and hung rats in his own, to punish them according
to the rules of martial law.
Nor is this all. After having wounded and outraged nearly every feeling
of this young creature's nature, they began to deprave her
systematically. The Empress regards as a breach of order her having no
children. Madame Tchoglokoff speaks to her on the subject, insinuating
that, _for the good of the state_, she ought to sacrifice her scruples,
and concludes by proposing to her a choice between Soltikoff and
Narichkine. The young lady affects simplicity and takes both--nay,
Poniatowsky into the bargain, and thus was commenced a career of
licentiousness in which she never halted during the space of forty
years.
What renders the present publication of serious consequence to the
imperial house of Russia is, that it proves not only that this house
does not belong to the family of Romanoff, but that it does not even
belong to that of Holstein Gottorp. The avowal of Catherine on this
point is very explicit--_the father of the Emperor Paul is Sergius
Soltikoff_.
The Imperial Dictatorship of Russia endeavours in vain to represent
itself as traditional and secular.
One word before I close.
In perusing these Memoirs, the reader is astonished to find one thing
constantly lost sight of, even to the extent of not appearing
anywhere--it is _Russia and the People_. And here is the characteristic
trait of the epoch.
The Winter Palace, with its military and administrative machinery, was a
world of its own. Like a ship floating on the surface of the ocean, it
had no real connection with the inhabitants of the deep, beyond that of
eating them. It was the _State for the State_. Organized on the German
model, it imposed itself on the nation as a conqueror. In that monstrous
barrack, in that enormous chancery, there reigned the cold rigidity of
a camp. One set gave or transmitted orders, the rest obeyed in silence.
There was but one single spot within that dreary pile in which human
passions reappeared, agitated and stormy, and that spot was the domestic
hearth; not that of the nation--but of the state. Behind that triple
line of sentinels, in those heavily ornamented saloons, there fermented
a feverish life, with its intrigues and its conflicts, its dramas and
its tragedies. It was there that the destinies of Russia were woven, in
the gloom of the alcove, in the midst of orgies, _beyond_ the reach of
informers and of the police.
What interest, then, could the young German Princess take in that
_magnum ignotum_, that people _unexpressed_, poor, semi-barbarous, which
concealed itself in its villages, behind the snow, behind bad roads, and
only appeared in the streets of St. Petersburg like a foreign outcast,
with its persecuted beard, and prohibited dress--tolerated only through
contempt.
It was only long afterwards that Catherine heard the Russian people
seriously spoken of, when the Cossack Pougatcheff, at the head of an
army of insurgent peasants, menaced Moscow.
When Pougatcheff was vanquished, the Winter Palace again forgot the
people. And there is no telling when it would have been again remembered
had it not itself put its masters in mind of its existence, by rising in
mass in 1812, rejecting, on the one hand, the release from serfdom
offered to it at the point of foreign bayonets, and, on the other,
marching to death to save a country which gave it nothing but slavery,
degradation, misery--and the oblivion of the Winter Palace.
This was the second _memento_ of the Russian people. Let us hope that at
the third it will be remembered a little longer.
A. HERZEN.
LONDON, _November 15th, 1858_.
MEMOIRS
OF THE
EMPRESS CATHERINE II.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
PART I.
FROM 1729, THE YEAR OF HER BIRTH, TO 1751.
Fortune is not so blind as people think. Her movements are often the
result of precise and well-planned measures, which escape the perception
of common minds; still oftener are they the result of personal
qualities, character, and conduct.
To render this more evident, I will propose the following syllogism:
Qualities and character shall form the major
Conduct, the minor;
Good or evil fortune, the conclusion.
Here are two striking illustrations:
PETER III.
CATHERINE II.
PETER III, HIS FATHER AND MOTHER.
The mother of Peter III was a daughter of Peter I. Two months after the
birth of her son she died of consumption, in the little town of Kiel, in
Holstein, a victim to grief at finding herself established in such a
place and married so badly. Charles Frederic, Duke of Holstein, nephew
of Charles XII, King of Sweden, was the father of Peter III. He was a
weak prince, ugly, little, sickly, and poor (see the Journal of
Berkholz, in Busching's Magazine). He died in 1739, leaving his son, not
quite eleven years old, under the guardianship of his cousin, Adolphus
Frederic, Bishop of Lubeck and Duke of Holstein, since elected King of
Sweden, in consequence of the peace of Abo, and the recommendation of
the Empress Elizabeth. The education of Peter III was placed under the
superintendence of the Grand Marshal of his Court, Brummer, a Swede by
birth, under whom were the Great Chamberlain Berkholz, author of the
journal just alluded to, and four chamberlains, two of whom, Adlerfeldt,
author of a history of Charles XII, and Wachmeister, were Swedes, and
the other two, Wolff and Madfeldt, natives of Holstein. The Prince was
educated for the throne of Sweden, in a court too large for the country
which contained it; and this court was divided into several factions
mutually hating each other, each seeking to obtain an ascendancy over
the mind of the Prince, instead of endeavouring to form his character,
and all bent upon inspiring him with an aversion for those opposed to
them. The young Prince cordially hated Brummer; nor did he like any of
his attendants, because they kept him under restraint.
Even from the ago of ten, Peter III showed a fondness for drink. He had
to submit to numerous presentations, and was never out of sight night or
day. The persons he most liked during his childhood and the first years
of his residence in Russia were two old valets de chambre--Cramer, a
Livonian, and Roumberg, a Swede. The latter was the favourite; he was a
somewhat rough and vulgar person, who had been a dragoon under Charles
XII. Brummer, and consequently Berkholz, who only saw with the eyes of
Brummer, was attached to the Prince Guardian and Administrator; all the
rest were dissatisfied with this Prince, and still more so with his
adherents.
When the Empress Elizabeth ascended the throne of Russia, she sent the
Chamberlain Korf into Holstein to demand her nephew. In consequence, the
Prince Administrator immediately sent him off, accompanied by the Grand
Marshal Brummer, the Chamberlain Berkholz, and the Chamberlain Decken,
nephew of the former. The Empress received the Prince with great joy,
and soon after his arrival set out for Moscow to be crowned. She had
determined to declare him her heir; but, first of all, it was
indispensable that he should be received into the Greek church. The
enemies of the Grand Marshal Brummer, and particularly the Great
Chamberlain Count Bestoujeff and the Count M. Panin, who was for a long
time Russian minister in Sweden, pretended to have in their possession
convincing proofs that Brummer, from the moment he found the Empress
determined to declare her nephew heir presumptive to her throne, took as
much pains to corrupt the mind and heart of his pupil as he had before
taken to render him worthy of the crown of Sweden. But I have always
doubted this atrocity, and looked upon the education of Peter III as a
conflict of unfortunate circumstances. I will relate what I have seen
and heard, and even that will explain a great deal.
I saw Peter III for the first time when he was eleven years old. He was
then at Eutin with his guardian, the Prince Bishop of Lubeck, some
months after the death of his father, the Duke Charles Frederic. The
Prince Bishop had assembled all his family at Eutin, in 1739, in order
to meet his ward. My grandmother, mother of the Prince Bishop, and my
mother, his sister, had come from Hamburg with me. I was then ten years
old. Prince Augustus and the Princess Anne, brother and sister of the
Prince Guardian and Administrator of Holstein, were also there; and it
was then I heard it stated, in the presence of the assembled family,
that the young Duke was inclined to drink, his attendants finding it
difficult to prevent him from getting intoxicated at table; that he was
restive and impetuous; without affection for those about him, and
especially disliking Brummer; that, otherwise, he was not wanting in
vivacity, but that he was of a weak and sickly constitution. In point of
fact, his complexion was pale, and he appeared thin and delicate. To
this child his attendants wished to give the appearance of a complete
man; and for this purpose he was tormented with restraints only
calculated to teach him falsehood as well in character as in deportment.
The little court of Holstein had not long been settled in Russia when an
embassy arrived from Sweden, requesting the Empress to allow her nephew
to be placed on the throne of that kingdom. Elizabeth, however, had
already announced her intentions by the preliminaries of the peace of
Abo, as previously mentioned; and she replied to the Swedish diet that
she had declared her nephew heir to the throne of Russia, and that she
adhered to the preliminaries of the peace of Abo, which gave to Sweden,
as heir presumptive to the crown, the Prince Administrator of Holstein.
(This Prince had had an elder brother, to whom the Empress had been
affianced at the death of Peter I. The marriage had not taken place, as
the Prince died of small-pox a few weeks after the betrothal; but the
Empress retained much affection for his memory, as she showed by many
marks of favour to all the family.)
Peter III, then, was declared heir to Elizabeth and Grand Duke of
Russia, after having previously made his profession of faith according
to the rites of the Greek church. His instructor on this occasion was
Simon Theodorsky, since Archbishop of Pleskov. The Prince had been
baptized and brought up in the Lutheran creed in its most rigid and
least tolerant form. He had always been refractory under instruction of
every kind; and I have heard his attendants say that, while at Kiel,
they had infinite trouble in getting him to church on Sundays and
holidays, and making him perform the acts of devotion required of him;
and that most of the time he displayed his irreligion in the presence of
Simon Theodorsky. His Royal Highness took it into his head to dispute
upon every point, and his attendants had often to be called in to check
his ill-humour or impetuosity. At last, after giving a deal of trouble,
he submitted to the wishes of his aunt the Empress; though, whether from
prejudice, habit, or the spirit of contradiction, he frequently took
care to let it be seen that he would rather have gone to Sweden than
remain in Russia. He retained Brummer, Berkholz, and his Holstein
attendants until his marriage. Some other masters were added to these as
a matter of routine: Mr. Isaac Wesselowsky for the Russian language; he
came but rarely at first, and finally not at all; the other was the
Professor Stehlein, who was to teach him mathematics and history, but
who, in reality, only played with him, and served him as a buffoon. The
person who was most assiduous was the ballet-master, Laudé, who taught
him dancing.
1744.
At first, the sole occupation of the Grand Duke, when in his private
apartment, was to make the two servants who attended him there to go
through the military exercise. He gave them titles and ranks, and then
again degraded them, according to the whim of the moment. It was truly
child's play, and a constant childhood. In general, indeed, he was very
childish, although at this time he was sixteen. In 1744, while the court
was at Moscow, Catherine II arrived there with her mother, on the 9th of
February.
The Russian court was at that time divided into two great sections or
parties. At the head of the first, which now began to recover from its
previous depression, was the Vice-Chancellor Count Bestoujeff Rumine. He
was a man far more feared than loved, excessively intriguing and
suspicious, firm and resolute in his principles, not a little
tyrannical, an implacable enemy, but a steady friend, never abandoning
those who did not first turn their backs on him. He was, besides,
difficult to get along with, and apt to stand upon trifles. He was at
the head of the department of foreign affairs. Having to contend with
those immediately about the Empress, he had been kept down before the
journey to Moscow; but now he began to gain an ascendancy. He leaned to
the court of Vienna, to that of Saxony, and to England. The arrival of
Catherine II and her mother gave him no pleasure; it was the secret
work of the faction opposed to him. The enemies of the Count were
numerous, but he made them all tremble. He had over them the advantage
of his position and character, which gave him great weight in the
politics of the ante-chamber.
The party opposed to Bestoujeff were in favour of France, her protégée
Sweden, and the king of Prussia. The Marquis de la Chétardie was the
soul of this party; the courtiers from Holstein its prominent
personages. They had gained over Lestocq, one of the principal actors in
the revolution which had placed Elizabeth on the throne of Russia. He
had a large share in her confidence. He had been her surgeon since the
death of the Empress Catherine I, to whose household he had also been
attached, and had rendered essential services to both mother and
daughter. He was not wanting either in shrewdness, skill, or intrigue;
but he was malicious, and had a bad heart. All these strangers supported
him, and put forward Count Michael Woronzoff, who had also taken part in
the revolution, and had accompanied Elizabeth on the night she ascended
the throne. She had made him marry the niece of the Empress Catherine I,
the Countess Anna Karlovna Skavronsky, who had been brought up with
herself, and was very much attached to her. To this faction also
belonged the Count Alexander Roumianzoff, father of the Marshal, who had
signed the peace of Abo with Sweden--a peace in which Bestoujeff had
been but little consulted. The party also counted upon the
Procurator-general Troubetzkoy, upon the whole Troubetzkoy family, and,
consequently, upon the Prince of Hesse-Homburg, who had married a
princess of this family. The Prince of Hesse-Homburg, who was much
thought of at that time, was personally of little consequence, his
importance being wholly derived from the extensive family to which his
wife belonged, and of which the father and mother were still living: the
latter enjoyed great consideration.
The remaining portion of those who were about the Empress consisted at
that time of the family of Schouvaloff. These balanced in all respects
the Master of the Hounds, Razoumowsky, who, for the moment, was the
acknowledged favourite.
Count Bestoujeff knew how to make these latter useful, but his chief
reliance was on the Baron Tcherkassoff, Secretary of the Cabinet to the
Empress, and who had previously served in the cabinet of Peter I. He was
a rough and headstrong man, an advocate of order and justice, and one
who wished to see everything in due form and system. The remainder of
the court took sides with one or other of these parties, according to
their several interests or personal feelings.
The arrival of my mother and myself seemed to give the Grand Duke much
pleasure. I was then in my fifteenth year. During the first few days he
showed me great attention. Even then, and in that short time, I could
see that he cared but little for the nation over which he was destined
to rule; that he leaned to Lutheranism; that he had no affection for
those about him; and that he was very childish. I was silent, and
listened, and this gained me his confidence. I remember his telling me,
among other things, that what most pleased him in me was, that I was his
cousin, as he could therefore, from our near relationship, open his
heart to me with entire confidence; and hereupon he went on to inform me
that he was in love with one of the maids of honour to the Empress, who
had been dismissed from court in consequence of the misfortune of her
mother, a Madame Lapoukine, who had been exiled to Siberia; that he
would have been very glad to have married her, but that he was resigned
to marry me instead, as his aunt wished it. I listened with a blush to
these family disclosures, thanking him for his premature confidence;
but, in reality, I was astounded at his imprudence and utter want of
judgment in a variety of matters.
The tenth day after my arrival in Moscow, it was Saturday, the Empress
went to the convent of Troïtza. The Grand Duke remained with us at
Moscow. Three masters had already been assigned me: Simon Theodorsky, to
instruct me in the Greek faith; Basil Adadouroff, for the Russian
language; and the ballet-master, Laudé, for dancing. In order to make
greater progress in the Russian, I used to sit up in bed when every one
else was asleep, and learned by heart the lessons which Adadouroff had
left me. As my room was warm, and I had no experience of the climate, I
neglected to put on my shoes or stockings, but studied just as I left my
bed. The consequence was, that from the fifteenth day I was seized with
a pleurisy which threatened to kill me. It commenced with a shivering,
which seized me on the Tuesday after the departure of the Empress for
the convent of Troïtza, just as I had dressed for dinner. My mother and
myself were to dine that day with the Grand Duke, and I had much
difficulty in getting her to allow me to go to bed. On her return from
dinner, she found me almost without consciousness, in a burning fever,
and with an excruciating pain in the side. She fancied I was going to
have the small-pox; sent for the physicians, and wished me to be treated
in consequence. The medical men insisted on my being bled, but she would
not listen to the proposal, saying that it was from being bled that her
brother had died of the small-pox in Russia, and that she did not wish
me to share the same fate. The physicians, and the attendants of the
Grand Duke, who had not had the disease, sent to the Empress an exact
report of the state of matters, and in the mean time, while my mother
and the doctors were disputing, I lay in my bed, unconscious, in a
burning fever, and with a pain in the side which occasioned intense
suffering, and forced from me continual moanings, for which my mother
scolded me, telling me that I ought to bear my sufferings patiently.
Finally, on the Saturday evening, at seven o'clock, that is, on the
fifth day of my disease, the Empress returned from the convent at
Troïtza, and, on alighting from her carriage, proceeded to my room, and
found me without consciousness. She had with her Count Lestocq and a
surgeon, and having heard the opinion of the physicians, she sat down at
the head of my bed, and ordered me to be bled. The moment the blood
came, I recovered my consciousness, and, opening my eyes, found myself
in the arms of the Empress, who had lifted me up. For twenty-seven days
I lay between life and death, and during that period I was bled sixteen
times, on some occasions as often as four times in the day. My mother
was scarcely ever allowed to enter my room. She continued opposed to
these frequent bleedings, and loudly asserted that the doctors were
killing me. She began, however, to believe that I should not have the
small-pox. The Empress had placed the Countess Roumianzoff and several
other ladies in attendance on me, and it seemed that my mother's
judgment was distrusted. At last, under the care of the physician
Sanches, a Portuguese, the abscess which had formed in my right side
burst. I vomited it, and from that moment I began to recover. I soon
perceived that my mother's conduct during my illness had lowered her in
every one's estimation. When she saw me very bad, she wished a Lutheran
clergyman to be brought to me. I have been told that they brought me to
myself, or took advantage of a moment of returning consciousness, to
propose this to me, and that I replied, "What is the good? I would
rather have Simon Theodorsky; I will speak to him with pleasure." He was
brought, and addressed me in a manner that gave general satisfaction.
This occurrence did me great service in the opinion of the Empress and
of the entire court. There was also another circumstance which injured
my mother. One day, towards Easter, she took it into her head to send me
word by a maid-servant that she wished me to give up to her a piece of
blue and silver stuff, which my father's brother had presented to me on
my departure for Russia, seeing that I had taken a great fancy for it. I
replied that she could, of course, take it, though I certainly prized it
very much, as my uncle had given it to me because I liked it so much.
The persons about me perceiving that I parted with it unwillingly, and
considering how long I had hovered between life and death, having only
got a little better within the last two or three days, began to complain
of my mother's imprudence in giving any annoyance to a dying child,
saying, that so far from depriving me of my dress, she ought not even to
have mentioned the matter. The circumstance was related to the Empress,
who instantly sent me several superb pieces of stuff, and among them one
of blue and silver, but the circumstance injured my mother in the
estimation of the Empress. She was accused of having no affection for
me, nor any discretion either. I had accustomed myself during my illness
to lie with my eyes closed. I was supposed to be asleep, and then the
Countess Roumianzoff, and the ladies who were with her, spoke their
minds freely, and I thus learned a great many things.
As I began to get better, the Grand Duke often came to spend the evening
in my mother's apartment, which was also mine. He and every one else
seemed to take the greatest interest in my condition. The Empress had
often shed tears about me. At last, on the 21st of April, 1744, my
birthday, whence commenced my fifteenth year, I was able to appear in
public for the first time after this severe illness.
I fancy that people were not much edified with the apparition. I was
wasted away to a skeleton. I had grown; but my face and features had
lengthened, my hair had fallen off, and I was deadly pale. To myself I
looked frightfully ugly; I could not recognize myself. The Empress sent
me, on the occasion, a pot of rouge, and ordered me to use it.
With the return of spring and fine weather, the assiduities of the Grand
Duke ceased. He preferred walking and shooting in the environs of
Moscow. Sometimes, however, he came to dine or sup with us, and then he
continued his childish confidences to me, while his attendants conversed
with my mother, who received much company, and with whom many
conferences took place, which did not fail to displease those who were
not present at them, especially Count Bestoujeff, all whose enemies were
in the habit of assembling with us, and particularly the Marquis de la
Chétardie, who had not yet put forth any character[3] from the court of
France, though he carried in his pocket his credentials as ambassador.
In the month of May, the Empress again visited the convent of Troïtza,
whither the Grand Duke, myself, and my mother followed her. For some
time the Empress had begun to treat my mother with much coldness. At the
convent of Troïtza, the reason for this became apparent. One afternoon,
when the Grand Duke was in our room, the Empress entered suddenly, and
desired my mother to follow her into the other apartment. Count Lestocq
followed there also. The Grand Duke and I sat upon a window-sill,
waiting. The conversation lasted a long time. At last, Count Lestocq
came out, and, in passing, came near the place where the Grand Duke and
I were sitting laughing, and said to us, "This merriment will soon
cease." And then, turning to me, he added, "You may pack up: you are
going to set off home at once." The Grand Duke wished to know the reason
of this. "You will learn afterwards," was the reply of the Count, who
departed to fulfil the commission with which he was charged, and of the
nature of which I was ignorant. The Grand Duke and myself were left to
ruminate on what we had heard. His commentaries were in words; mine in
thoughts. "But," he said, "if your mother is in fault, you are not." I
answered, "My duty is to follow my mother, and do what she orders me." I
saw plainly that he would have parted from me without regret. As for
myself, considering his character and sentiments, the matter was nearly
indifferent to me also, but the crown of Russia was not so. At last the
door of the bed-room opened, and the Empress came out with a flushed
face and an angry look. My mother followed her, her eyes red, and filled
with tears. As we scrambled down from the window where we were perched,
and which was rather high, the Empress smiled. She then kissed us both,
and departed. When she had gone, we learned pretty nearly how matters
stood.
The Marquis de la Chétardie, who formerly, or, to speak more correctly,
in his first diplomatic journey to Russia, had stood very high in the
favour and confidence of the Empress, found himself, in his second
journey, fallen from his hopes. His conversations were more measured
than his letters; these were filled with the most rancorous bitterness.
They had been opened, deciphered. In them were found the details of his
conversations with my mother, and with many other persons, relative to
the affairs of the empire, and to the Empress herself; and as the
Marquis had not displayed any character,[4] the order was given for
expelling him from the empire. The badge of the order of St. Andrew and
the portrait of the Empress were taken from him; but he was allowed to
retain all the other presents of jewels made him by her Majesty. I do
not know whether my mother succeeded in justifying herself in the mind
of the Empress, but at all events, we did not go away. However, my
mother continued to be treated with much reserve and coldness. I do not
know what passed between her and La Chétardie, but I know that one day
he complimented me on my having my hair arranged _en Moyse_. I replied
that to satisfy the Empress, I would dress my hair in every style that
could give her pleasure. When he heard this he turned on his heel, went
off in another direction, and did not again speak to me.
On our return from Moscow with the Grand Duke, my mother and I were more
isolated. Fewer people came to see us, and I was being prepared for
making my profession of faith. The 28th of June was fixed for this
ceremony, and the following day, the Feast of St. Peter, for my
betrothal with the Grand Duke. I remember that Marshal Brummer, several
times during this period, complained to me of his pupil, and wished to
make use of me for correcting or reproving him; but I told him it was
impossible for me to do so, and that were I to attempt it I should only
render myself as odious to him as his attendants were already.
During this period, my mother became very intimate with the Prince and
Princess of Hesse, and still more so with the brother of the latter, the
Chamberlain Retsky. This connection displeased the Countess Roumianzoff,
Marshal Brummer, and, in fact, every one; and, while she was engaged
with them in her room, the Grand Duke and I were making a racket in the
ante-chamber, of which we were in full possession; we were neither of us
wanting in youthful vivacity.
In the month of July, the Empress celebrated, at Moscow, the peace with
Sweden. On this occasion, a Court was formed for me, as an affianced
Grand Duchess of Russia; and, immediately after the celebration, the
Empress sent us off for Kiev. She set out herself some days later. We
made short stages--my mother and I, the Countess Roumianzoff, and one of
the ladies of my mother's suite in one carriage; the Grand Duke,
Brummer, Berkholz, and Decken in another. One afternoon, the Grand Duke,
tired of being with his pedagogues, wished to join my mother and me.
Once in with us, he would not leave our carriage. Then my mother,
wearied with being always with him and me, took a fancy to augment our
company. She communicated her idea to the young people of our suite,
among whom were Prince Galitzine, since Marshal of this name, and Count
Zachar Czernicheff. One of the carriages, containing our beds, was
taken, benches were ranged all round it, and the next morning the Grand
Duke, my mother and I, Prince Galitzine, Count Czernicheff, and one or
two more of the youngest of the suite, entered it. And thus we passed
the rest of our journey very gaily, as far as our carriage life was
concerned; but all who were not with us protested against the
arrangement. It extremely displeased the Grand Marshal Brummer, the
Great Chamberlain Berkholz, the Countess Roumianzoff, the
Lady-in-waiting on my mother, and, in fact, all the rest of the suite,
because they were never admitted; and, while we laughed through the
journey, they were grumbling and wearied.
In this manner we reached Koselsk, at the end of three weeks, and there
remained three other weeks waiting for the Empress, who had been delayed
on her route by several occurrences. We learnt at Koselsk that during
her journey several persons of her suite had been sent into exile, and
that she was in very bad humour. At last, about the middle of August,
she reached Koselsk, and we remained there with her till the end of the
month. While there, the people played at faro from morning till night,
in a large hall in the centre of the house, and they played high. We
were all much cramped in point of space. My mother and I slept in the
same room, the Countess Roumianzoff and the Lady-in-waiting on my mother
in the ante-chamber, and so on with the others. One day, when the Grand
Duke came into our room, my mother was writing, while her casket lay
open at her side. The Duke, from curiosity, wanted to rummage in the
casket; my mother told him not to touch it; and, in point of fact, he
moved away and went capering about the place. But while leaping here
and there in order to make me laugh, he caught the lid of the casket and
upset it. Then my mother got angry, and hard words passed between them.
She accused him of having upset the casket on purpose; he denied this,
and complained of her injustice. Both appealed to me. Knowing my
mother's temper, I was afraid of getting my ears boxed if I did not side
with her; and, on the other hand, I did not wish to tell a falsehood or
displease the Grand Duke, so that I was between two fires. However, I
told my mother that I did not think the Duke had done it intentionally,
but that, while leaping, his dress had caught the lid of the casket,
which stood on a very small stool. Then my mother took me in hand, for
when she was angry she must have some one to find fault with. I was
silent and began to cry. The Grand Duke finding that all my mother's
anger fell upon me, because I had testified in his favour, and seeing me
in tears, accused her of injustice and of being mad with passion; to
which she retorted by calling him a very ill-behaved little boy. In a
word, it would have been difficult to go farther than they did without
actually coming to blows. From this moment the Grand Duke took a dislike
to my mother; nor did he ever forget this quarrel. She, on the other
hand, retained a grudge against him, and their behaviour to each other
tended to produce restraint, distrust, and bitterness. They seldom
concealed their feelings when with me, and it was in vain that I sought
to soften them towards each other. I never succeeded beyond the moment,
and that but rarely. They had always some sarcasm ready for annoyance,
and my situation became every day more painful. I tried to obey the one
and please the other; and, indeed, at that time the Grand Duke gave me
his confidence more completely than he did to any one else; for he saw
that my mother often took me to task, when she was unable to fasten upon
him. This, of course, did me no harm in his estimation, for he felt that
he could count upon me.
Finally, on the 29th of August we reached Kiev. We remained there ten
days, and then set out for Moscow, travelling in precisely the same
manner as before.
Having arrived at Moscow, the entire autumn was passed in dramatic
representations, ballets, and court masquerades. In spite of all this,
however, it was evident that the Empress was often in bad humour. One
day while at the theatre, my mother, the Grand Duke, and I, being in a
box opposite her Majesty, I perceived the Empress speaking very warmly
and angrily to Count Lestocq. When she had ended, the Count left her and
came to our box. Approaching me he said, "Have you seen how the Empress
spoke to me?" I answered that I had. "Very well, then," he said; "she is
very angry with you." "With me! and why?" I replied. "Because," he said,
"you are much in debt. She says that wells may be dried up; that when
she was a princess she had no greater allowance than you have, though
she had an establishment to provide for; and that she took care not to
get into debt, because she knew that no one would pay for her." All this
he uttered in a dry tone and with an air of displeasure, apparently that
the Empress might see from her box how he had executed his commission.
Tears came into my eyes, and I was silent. Having finished what he had
to say, the Count departed. The Grand Duke, who was seated at my side,
heard most of the conversation; and after questioning me relative to the
remainder, he gave me to understand, rather by looks than words, that he
agreed with his aunt and was not sorry I had been scolded. This was his
general way of acting, and he fancied he should thus render himself
agreeable to the Empress by entering into her views when she was angry
with any one. My mother also, when she learnt what had happened, said it
was only the natural consequence of the pains that had been taken to
withdraw me from her control; and that since they had put me in a
condition to act without consulting her, she should wash her hands of
the matter. Thus they both took part against me.
As for me, I determined instantly to put my affairs into order; and the
next morning I called for my accounts. From these I found that I was in
debt to the amount of 17,000 roubles. Before leaving Moscow for Kiev,
the Empress had sent me 15,000 roubles and a large chest of simple
dresses; but it was necessary for me to be richly dressed, so that,
everything reckoned, I owed 2,000 roubles, and this did not appear to me
an unreasonable sum. Different causes had thrown me into these expenses.
In the first place, I had arrived in Russia very badly provided for. If
I had three or four dresses in the world, it was the very outside; and
this at a court where people changed their dress three times a-day. A
dozen chemises constituted the whole of my linen, and I had to use my
mother's sheets.
In the second place, I had been told that in Russia people liked
presents; and that generosity was the best means of acquiring friends
and making one's self agreeable.
Thirdly, they had placed with me the most extravagant woman in Russia,
the Countess Roumianzoff, who was always surrounded with tradesmen, and
constantly showing me a variety of things which she induced me to
purchase, and which I often purchased merely to present them to her, as
I knew she was eager to have them.
The Grand Duke also cost me not a little, for he was fond of presents.
Besides, I had found out that my mother's ill-humour was easily appeased
by the present of anything that pleased her; and as she was often out of
temper, and especially with me, I did not neglect this means of soothing
her. Her ill-humour arose in part from her being on such a bad footing
with the Empress, and from the fact that her Majesty often subjected her
to annoyances and humiliations. Besides, heretofore, I had always
followed her; and now she could not without displeasure see me take
precedence of her. I carefully avoided doing so, whenever it was
possible; but in public it could not be avoided. In general, I had made
it a rule to pay her the greatest respect, and treat her with all
possible deference; but it was of no use, she had always and on all
occasions some disagreeable remark to make, a thing which did not do her
much good or prepossess people in her favour.
The Countess Roumianzoff, by her scandals and gossippings, contributed
much--as did many others--to prejudice my mother in the opinion of the
Empress. That carriage for eight, during the journey to Kiev, had also
much to do with this result. All the old had been excluded; all the
young admitted. God only knows what was tortured out of this
arrangement, harmless as it was in itself. What was most evident was,
that it had displeased all those who by their rank were entitled to
admission, but were, nevertheless, set aside for the sake of more
amusing companions. But the real foundation of all this trouble was the
exclusion of Betzky and the Troubetzkoys, in whom my mother had most
confidence during the journey to Kiev. Brummer and the Countess
Roumianzoff had also, no doubt, contributed to it; and the carriage for
eight, into which they had not been admitted, was a source of rancour.
In the month of November, the Grand Duke took the measles, at Moscow. As
I had not had them, care was taken to prevent me from catching them.
Those who were about the Prince did not come near us, and all diversions
ceased. As soon as the disease had passed off, and the winter fully set
in, we left Moscow for St. Petersburg, in sledges; my mother and me in
one, the Grand Duke and Brummer in another. We celebrated the birthday
of the Empress, the 18th of December, at Tver, and the next day
continued our journey. Having reached the town of Chotilovo--about
midway--the Grand Duke, while in my room in the evening, became unwell.
He was led to his own apartments, and put to bed. He had considerable
fever during the night. At noon, the next day, my mother and I went to
see him; but I had scarcely passed the threshold when Count Brummer
advanced towards me, and desired me not to proceed farther. I asked the
reason, and learnt that indications of small-pox had just manifested
themselves. As I had not had the disease, my mother instantly hurried me
out of the room; and it was decided that she and I should set off the
same day for St. Petersburg, leaving the Duke and his suite at
Chotilovo. The Countess Roumianzoff and the lady in attendance on my
mother remained there also, to nurse the invalid, they said.
A courier, despatched to the Empress, had already preceded us, and was
by this time at St. Petersburg. At some distance from Novogorod, we met
the Empress herself, who, having learnt that the Grand Duke had taken
the small-pox, was on her way from St. Petersburg to Chotilovo, where
she remained as long as the disease lasted. As soon as she perceived
us, though it was in the middle of the night, she stopped her sledge and
ours to make inquiries concerning the condition of the Duke. My mother
told her all she knew, and she then bade the driver proceed, while we
continued our journey, and reached Novogorod towards morning.
It was a Sunday, and I went to mass, after which we dined; and just as
we were about to start again, the Chamberlain, Prince Galitzine, and the
Gentleman of the Bedchamber, Zachar Czernicheff, arrived from Moscow, on
their way to St. Petersburg. My mother was angry with the Prince because
he was in company with Count Czernicheff, who had told some falsehood or
other. She maintained that he ought to be avoided as a dangerous
character, who indulged in gratuitous fabrications. She sulked with them
both; but as this sulking was dreadfully wearisome, as, besides, there
was no choice in the matter, and as these two gentlemen were better
informed and had more conversational powers than any of the others, I
did not join in these sulks, and this drew upon me some unpleasant
remarks from my mother.
At last we reached St. Petersburg, and took up our residence in one of
the houses attached to the court. The palace, at that time, was not
sufficiently large to allow even the Grand Duke to reside there, so that
he occupied a house situated between the palace and ours. My apartments
were at the left of the palace, my mother's at the right. As soon as she
saw this arrangement, she became angry: first, because she thought my
rooms better situated than her own; secondly, because hers were
separated from mine by a common hall. In point of fact, we each had four
rooms, two in front and two facing the court-yard of the house. The
rooms were equal in size, and furnished exactly alike, the furniture
being blue and red. But what chiefly contributed to annoy my mother was
the circumstance which I am going to mention. While we were at Moscow,
the Countess Roumianzoff had brought me the plan of this house by
direction of the Empress, forbidding me, in her name, to speak of the
matter, and consulting me as to how my mother and myself should be
respectively placed. There was no choice in the case, for the two sets
of apartments were in all respects equal. I said so to the Countess, and
she gave me to understand that the Empress preferred my having separate
rooms to occupying, as at Moscow, the same apartments as my mother. This
change pleased me also, for I was much inconvenienced in being with my
mother, and, in fact, no one liked the arrangement. My mother in some
way got to hear of the plan that had been shown me. She spoke to me on
the subject, and I told the simple truth, just as the matter had
occurred. She scolded me for the secrecy I had maintained. I said I had
been forbidden to speak; but she would not admit the validity of this
reason, and altogether I saw that from day to day, she became more and
more displeased with me, and, in fact, she had managed to quarrel with
almost every one, so that she now scarcely ever came to table, either
for dinner or supper, but was served in her own room. As for me, I went
to her apartments three or four times a-day. The rest of my time was
spent in learning Russian, in playing on the harpsichord, and in
reading, for I had bought myself books; so that at fifteen I was
retired, and tolerably studious for my age.
Towards the close of our stay at Moscow, a Swedish embassy arrived, at
the head of which was the Senator Cedercreutz. A short time afterwards,
the Count Gyllenburg also arrived, to announce to the Empress the
marriage of the Prince of Sweden, my mother's brother, with a Swedish
princess. Count Gyllenburg, and many other Swedes, became known to us at
the time of the Prince Royal's departure for Sweden. He was a man of
talent, no longer young, and my mother thought very highly of him. For
myself, I was, in some respects, under obligations to him; for at
Hamburg, seeing that my mother made little or no account of me, he told
her she was wrong, and assured her that I was a child much beyond my
age. On his arrival at St. Petersburg, he visited us, and as he had told
me, while at Hamburg, that I had a very philosophical turn of mind, he
asked me how it fared with my philosophy in the vortex in which I was
placed. I told him how I passed my time in my room. He replied that a
philosopher of fifteen could not know herself, and that I was surrounded
by so many rocks that I ran great danger of being wrecked, unless the
temper of my mind was of a very superior stamp; that I ought, therefore,
to fortify it by the study of the best works, such as the Lives of
Plutarch, that of Cicero, and the Causes of the Greatness and Decay of
the Roman Republic, by Montesquieu. I immediately ordered those books to
be procured for me, and there was considerable difficulty in finding
them in St. Petersburg at that period. I told the Count that I would
trace my portrait for him, such as I supposed it, that he might see
whether or not I really did understand myself.
I did, in fact, trace out this portrait in writing, and gave it to him
under the following title:--"A Portrait of the Philosopher of Fifteen."
Many years afterwards, viz., in the year 1758, I turned up this
portrait; and I was astonished at the accuracy and depth of
self-knowledge which it evinced. Unfortunately I burnt it that same
year, with all my other papers, fearing to keep a single one in my room,
at the time of the unfortunate affair of Bestoujeff.
Count Gyllenburg returned my manuscript a few days afterwards. I do not
know whether he took a copy. He accompanied it by some dozen pages of
reflections which he had made relative to me. In these he endeavoured to
strengthen my character in firmness and elevation of mind, as well as in
all the other qualities of the head and heart. I read his remarks again
and again, many times. I impressed them on my mind, and determined very
sincerely to follow his advice. I made a promise to myself that I would
do so, and when once I have made a promise to myself, I do not remember
ever having failed in keeping it. Finally, I returned the manuscript to
the Count as he had requested, and I confess that it has been of great
service to me in forming and strengthening my mind and character.
In the beginning of February, the Empress returned from Chotilovo with
the Grand Duke. As soon as we had heard of her arrival we went to
receive her, and met her in the great hall, between four and five
o'clock in the evening, when it was nearly dark. Notwithstanding the
obscurity, however, I was almost terrified at beholding the Grand Duke.
He had grown very much, but his features were scarcely to be recognized;
they had all enlarged; the whole face was still swelled, and it was
quite evident that he would remain deeply marked. As his hair had been
cut off, he wore an immense wig, which greatly added to his
disfigurement. He came to me, and asked if I did not find it difficult
to recognize him. I stammered out my congratulations upon his
convalescence, but in truth he had grown frightful.
On the 9th of February, 1745, a year had passed since my arrival at the
court of Russia. On the 10th, the Empress celebrated the birthday of the
Grand Duke. He had now entered his seventeenth year. On this occasion, I
dined with her Majesty. She dined upon the throne, and I was the only
guest. The Grand Duke did not appear in public that day, nor for a long
time afterwards; they were in no hurry to show him in the condition in
which the small-pox had left him. The Empress was very gracious during
dinner. She told me that the letters I had written to her in Russian,
while she was at Chotilovo, had very much pleased her (to tell the
truth, they were the composition of M. Adadourof, though I had copied
them out;) and she also said she had been informed that I took great
pains to acquire the language of the country. She spoke to me in
Russian, and wished me to reply to her in that language, which I did;
and then she was pleased to praise my correct pronunciation. Finally,
she told me that I had grown handsomer since my illness at Moscow. In
fact, during the whole time of dinner, she was occupied in giving me
marks of her kindness and affection. I returned home highly delighted
with my dinner, and received congratulations on all sides. The Empress
had my portrait, which the painter Caravaque had commenced, brought to
her, and she kept it in her own room. It is the one which the sculptor
Falconnet has carried with him to France. At the time, it was a speaking
likeness.
In going to mass, or to the Empress, my mother and I had to pass through
the apartments of the Grand Duke, which were situated near mine; we
therefore often saw him. He also was in the habit of coming of an
evening, to pass some moments with me; but there was no eagerness in
these visits. On the contrary, he was always glad of any excuse for
dispensing with them, and remaining at home, occupied with the childish
amusements already mentioned.
A short time after the arrival of the Empress and Grand Duke at St.
Petersburg, my mother met with a serious annoyance, which she could not
conceal.
Prince Augustus, her brother, had written to her at Kiev, expressing his
great desire to visit Russia. She had learnt that the only object of
this journey was to have the administration of the territory of Holstein
conferred upon him as soon as the Grand Duke became of age; and it was
proposed to advance the period of his majority. In other words, it was
wished to take the guardianship out of the hands of the elder brother,
now become Prince Royal of Sweden, in order to give the administration
of the territory of Holstein, in the name of the Grand Duke, then of
age, to Prince Augustus, the younger brother of my mother and of the
Prince Royal of Sweden.
This intrigue had been formed by the Holstein party, which was opposed
to the Prince Royal, joined by the Danes, who could not pardon this
Prince for having prevailed, in Sweden, over the Prince Royal of
Denmark, whom the Dalecarlians wished to elect as successor to the
throne of Sweden. My mother replied to Prince Augustus from Koselsk,
telling him, that instead of lending himself to intrigues directed
against his brother, it would be better for him to enter the service of
Holland, where he was, and die with honour, rather than cabal against
his brother and join the enemies of his sister in Russia. My mother had
here reference to Count Bestoujeff, who encouraged all this intrigue in
order to injure Brummer, and all the other friends of the Prince Royal
of Sweden, the guardian of the Grand Duke for Holstein. This letter was
opened, and read by the Count and the Empress, who was by no means
pleased with my mother, and very much irritated against the Prince Royal
of Sweden, who, led by his wife, sister of the King of Prussia, had
allowed himself to be carried away by the French party in all their
views, a party in every way opposed to Russia. He was accused of
ingratitude, and my mother of want of affection for her younger brother,
because she had told him to die (_se faire tuer_), an expression which
was treated as harsh and inhuman; while my mother, in the company of her
friends, boasted of having used a firm and sounding phrase. The result
of all this was, that without any regard for my mother's feelings, or
rather to mortify her and annoy the Holstein-Swedish party, Count
Bestoujeff obtained permission, unknown to my mother, for Prince
Augustus of Holstein to visit St. Petersburg. My mother, when she learnt
that he was on his way, was extremely annoyed and grieved, and received
him very coldly. But he, pushed on by Bestoujeff, ran his course. The
Empress was persuaded to give him a favourable reception, which she did
in appearance. This, however, did not last, and could not last, for
Prince Augustus was not in himself a person of any consequence. Even his
external appearance was against him. He was very small, and badly made,
passionate, and with but little talent, and entirely led by his
followers, who were themselves quite insignificant. His stupidity, since
I must speak out, very much annoyed my mother, and, altogether, his
arrival nearly drove her crazy.
Count Bestoujeff, having obtained a control over the mind of the Prince
by means of his followers, killed many birds with one stone. He could
not be ignorant that the Grand Duke hated Brummer as much as he did
himself. Prince Augustus did not like him either, because he was
attached to the Prince Royal of Sweden, under pretence of relationship
and as a native of Holstein. Prince Augustus ingratiated himself with
the Grand Duke by constantly talking to him about Holstein and his
coming majority, so that he induced him to urge his aunt and Count
Bestoujeff to advance the period. To do this, however, it was necessary
to have the consent of the Roman Emperor, who, at that time, was Charles
VII, of the House of Bavaria. But, meantime, he died, and the matter
dragged on till the election of Francis I.
As Prince Augustus had been coldly received by my mother, and, in
return, manifested but little consideration for her, this circumstance
also contributed to diminish the slight remains of respect which the
Grand Duke entertained for her. On the other hand, both Prince Augustus
and the old valet, the favourite of the Grand Duke, fearing, seemingly,
my future influence, often talked to him about the manner in which he
ought to treat his wife. Romberg, an old Swedish dragoon, told him that
his wife dared not speak in his presence nor meddle with his affairs;
and that if she only attempted to open her mouth even, he ordered her to
hold her tongue; that he was master in his own house, and that it was
disgraceful for a husband to allow himself to be led by his wife like a
booby.
Now the Grand Duke had about as much discretion as a cannon ball, and,
when his mind was full of anything, he could not rest until he had
unburdened it to the persons he was in the habit of talking with, never
for a moment considering to whom it was he spoke. Consequently he used
to tell me all these things, with the utmost frankness, the first time
he saw me afterwards. He always fancied that every one was of his
opinion, and that nothing could be more reasonable than all this. I took
good care not to speak of these things to any one; but they made me
reflect very seriously upon the fate which awaited me. I determined to
husband carefully the confidence of the Grand Duke, in order that he
might at least consider me as a person of whom he felt sure, and to whom
he could confide everything without the least inconvenience to himself;
and in this I succeeded for a long time. Besides, I treated every one in
the best way I could, and studied how to gain the friendship, or at
least to lessen the enmity of those whom I in any way suspected of being
badly disposed to me. I showed no leaning to any side, nor meddled with
anything; always maintained a serene air, treated every one with great
attention, affability, and politeness, and, as I was naturally very gay,
I saw with pleasure that from day to day I advanced in the general
esteem, and was looked upon as an interesting child, and one by no means
wanting in mind. I showed great respect for my mother, a boundless
obedience for the Empress, and the most profound deference for the Grand
Duke; and I sought with the most anxious care to gain the affection of
the public.
From the period of our visit to Moscow, the Empress had assigned me some
ladies and gentlemen who formed my court. A short time after my arrival
at St. Petersburg she gave me some Russian maids, in order, as she said,
to aid me in acquiring increased facility in the use of the language.
This arrangement pleased me very much; for these persons were all young,
the oldest of them being only about twenty; all, too, were very lively,
so that from that time I did nothing but sing, dance, and play in my
room, from the moment I awoke in the morning till I went to sleep again
at night. In the evening, after supper, I brought into my bed-room my
three maids, the two Princesses Gagarine and Mademoiselle Koucheleff,
and we played at blind-man's buff and all sorts of games suited to our
age. All these ladies mortally feared the Countess Roumianzoff; but as
she played at cards from morning till night, either in the ante-chamber
or in her own room, never leaving her chair, except from necessity, she
rarely came near us.
In the midst of our mirth, the fancy seized me to distribute among my
women the care of all my effects. I placed my money, my expenditure, and
my linen in the charge of Mademoiselle Schenck, the lady's-maid whom I
had brought from Germany; she was a silly and querulous old maid, to
whom our gaiety was extremely annoying; and besides that, she was
jealous of all these young companions who were about to share her
functions and my affection. I gave all my jewels to Mademoiselle
Joukoff; she having more intelligence and being more gay and frank than
the others, began to gain my favour. My clothes I entrusted to my valet
Timothy Yevreinoff; my lace to Mademoiselle Balkoff, who afterwards
married the poet Soumarokoff; my ribbons to the elder Mademoiselle
Scorochodov, since married to Aristarchus Kachkine; her younger sister
Anne having nothing, as she was only between thirteen and fourteen years
old.
The day after this grand arrangement, in which I had exercised my
central power within the limits of my own chamber, and without
consulting a living soul, there were theatricals in the evening. To go
to them, it was necessary to pass through my mother's apartments. The
Empress, the Grand Duke, and the whole court were there. A little
theatre had been erected in a riding-school, which, in the time of the
Empress Anne, had been used by the Duke of Courland, whose apartments I
now occupied. After the play, when the Empress had retired, the Countess
Roumianzoff came into my room, and told me that the Empress disapproved
of the arrangement I had made in distributing the care of my effects
among my women, and that she was ordered to withdraw the keys of my
jewels out of the hands of Mademoiselle Joukoff, and restore them to
Mademoiselle Schenck, which she did in my presence, and then departed,
leaving Mademoiselle Joukoff and me with faces somewhat elongated, and
Mademoiselle Schenck triumphing in the marked confidence of the Empress.
She began to assume with me arrogant airs, which made her more
ridiculous than ever, and even less amiable than she had been before.
The first week of Lent I had a singular scene with the Grand Duke. In
the morning, while in my room with my maids, who were all very devout,
listening to matins, which were sung in the ante-chamber, I received an
embassy from the Grand Duke. He had sent me his dwarf to inquire how I
was, and to tell me that, on account of its being Lent, he should not
visit me that day. The dwarf found us all listening to the prayers, and
fulfilling exactly the prescriptions of Lent, according to our creed. I
returned the usual compliments to the Duke, through his dwarf, who then
departed. When he got back, whether it was that he had really been
edified by what he had seen, or that he wished his dear lord and master,
who was anything but devout, to do the same, he passed a high eulogium
upon the devotion which reigned in my apartments, and, by doing so, put
the Duke in a very bad humour with me. The first time we met he began by
sulking. Having asked the cause of this, he scolded me very much for
what he called the excessive devotion to which I gave myself up. When I
asked who had told him this, he named his dwarf as an eye-witness of it.
I told him I did no more than was proper, only what every one else did,
and what could not be dispensed with without scandal; but he thought
differently. The dispute ended as most disputes do, by leaving each one
with his own opinion; but, as his Imperial Highness had no one but me to
speak to during mass, he gradually left off pouting.
Two days after, I had another alarm. In the morning, while matins were
being sung in my apartments, Mademoiselle Schenck entered my room in
great consternation, telling me that my mother had been taken ill, and
had fainted. I instantly ran to her, and found her lying on the ground
on a mattress, but not unconscious. I ventured to ask her what was the
matter. She told me, that wishing to be bled, the surgeon was so clumsy
as to miss four times, having tried both arms and both feet, and that
she had fainted. I knew that she dreaded bleeding; I was ignorant of her
intention in wishing to be bled, and did not even know that she stood in
need of it. Yet she reproached me with caring little for her condition,
and said many disagreeable things on the subject. I excused myself in
the best way I could, acknowledging my ignorance; but, seeing that she
was in a very bad humour, I became silent, and endeavoured to restrain
my tears, nor did I leave her till she had desired me to do so with some
degree of harshness. On my return to my room, in tears, my maids wanted
to know what was the matter, and I told them quite simply. I went
several times during the day to my mother's room, and remained there as
long as I thought I could do so without being troublesome. This was a
capital point with her, to which I was so well accustomed, that there is
nothing I have so carefully avoided during my life as remaining with any
one longer than I was wanted. I have made it a point instantly to retire
whenever the least suspicion crossed my mind that my farther stay would
be an inconvenience. But I know by experience that every one does not
act upon the same principle, for my own patience has often been put to
the test by those who do not know how to go away before they have worn
out their welcome or become a source of weariness.
In the course of the Lent, my mother had a grief which was very real. At
a time when it was least expected, she received the news of the sudden
death of my younger sister, Elizabeth, a child only between three and
four years old. She was very much afflicted, and I grieved also.
One morning, some few days afterwards, I saw the Empress come into my
room. She sent for my mother, and they retired to my dressing-room,
where they had a long and private conversation; after which they
returned into my bed-room, and I saw that my mother's eyes were red and
filled with tears. From the sequence of the conversation I understood
that they had been talking about the death of the Emperor Charles VII,
of the house of Bavaria, the news of which had just reached the Empress.
Her Majesty was then without alliance, and she hesitated between Prussia
and the house of Austria, each of which had their partisans. She had the
same complaint against Austria as against France, towards which the King
of Prussia leaned, for the Marquis de Botta, the minister of the court
of Vienna had been sent away from Russia for speaking against the
Empress--an act which at the time it was sought to represent as a
conspiracy. The Marquis de la Chétardie had been similarly dismissed for
the same reasons. I do not know what was the object of this
conversation, but my mother seemed to conceive great hopes from it, and
went away very well satisfied. As for me, I was in all this simply a
spectator, and one, too, very passive, very discreet, and pretty nearly
indifferent.
After Easter, when the spring had fully set in, I expressed to the
Countess Roumianzoff the desire I had to learn to ride, and she obtained
the consent of the Empress. I had begun to have pains in the chest at
the commencement of the year, after the pleurisy I had had in Moscow,
and I was still very thin. The doctors ordered me milk and Seltzer water
every morning. It was at Roumianzoff House, in the barracks of the
Ismaïlofsky regiment, that I took my first lesson in riding. I had
already ridden several times at Moscow, but very badly.
In the month of May, the Empress, with the Grand Duke, went to occupy
the Summer Palace. To my mother and I had been assigned a stone
building, by the side of the Fontanka, close to the house of Peter I. My
mother occupied one side of this building, and I the other. Here ended
all the assiduities of the Grand Duke; he told me quite plainly, and
through a servant, that he now lived too far off to come and see me
often. I fully perceived his want of interest, and how little I was
cared for. My self-esteem and vanity grieved in silence, but I was too
proud to complain. I should have thought myself degraded if any one had
shown me a friendship which I could have taken for pity. Nevertheless, I
shed tears when alone, then quietly dried them up, and went to romp with
my maids. My mother also treated me with great coldness and ceremony,
but I never missed visiting her several times during the day. At heart I
felt very sad, but I took care not to speak of this. However,
Mademoiselle Joukoff one day perceived my tears, and spoke to me on the
subject. I gave her the best reasons I could, without however giving her
the true ones. I laboured more earnestly than before to gain the
affection of every one. Great or small, I neglected no one, but laid it
down to myself as a rule to believe that I stood in need of every one,
and so to act in consequence as to obtain the good will of all; and I
succeeded in doing so.
After some days' stay in the Summer Palace, where people began to speak
of the preparations for my marriage, the court removed to Peterhoff,
where it was more concentrated than in the city. The Empress and the
Grand Duke occupied the upper portion of the house built by Peter I; my
mother and I were beneath, in the apartments of the Grand Duke. We dined
with him every day, under a tent, upon the open gallery adjoining his
apartments; he supped with us. The Empress was often absent, moving
about among her different country residences. We were out a good deal,
walking, riding, or driving. I then saw as clear as day, that the
persons about the Grand Duke had lost all credit with him, and all
control over him. The military games, which he formerly carried on in
private, he now enacted almost in their presence. Count Brummer and his
head master scarcely ever saw him, except to follow him in public. The
rest of his time was literally passed, in the company of his valets, in
acts of childishness unheard of at his age, for he played at puppets.
My mother took advantage of the absences of the Empress to go and sup at
the neighbouring mansions, and especially at that of the Prince and
Princess of Hesse-Homburg. One evening when she had ridden out there, I
was sitting, after supper, in my room, which was on a level with the
garden, one of the doors leading into it, when I felt tempted by the
fine weather. I proposed to my maids and my three ladies of honour to
take a walk in the garden; and I had no great trouble in persuading
them. We were eight, and my valet, who made nine, followed us with two
other valets. We walked about till midnight in the most innocent manner
possible. My mother having returned, Mademoiselle Schenck, who had
refused to accompany us, and grumbled at our project, was in a great
hurry to tell her that I had gone out against her advice. My mother went
to bed, and when I got back with my troop, Mademoiselle Schenck told me,
with an air of triumph, that my mother had sent twice to inquire if I
had returned, as she wished to speak to me; but that as it was very
late, and she tired of waiting, she had gone to bed. I would have
instantly gone to her, but I found the door closed. I told Schenck that
she might have had me called. She pretended that she had not been able
to find us; but this was a mere story to make a quarrel, and get me
scolded; I saw this clearly, and went to bed with a good deal of
uneasiness. The following day, as soon as I awoke, I went to my mother
and found her in bed. I approached to kiss her hand, but she angrily
withdrew it, and gave me a dreadful scolding for having dared to walk
out at night without her permission. I said she was not at home; but she
replied that the hour was improper, and said all sorts of disagreeable
things, for the purpose, seemingly, of giving me a distaste for
nocturnal promenades. This, however, is certain, that although this walk
may have been an imprudence, nothing could have been more innocent. What
most distressed me was, that she accused me of having gone up to the
apartments of the Grand Duke. I replied that this was an abominable
calumny, at which she became so enraged that she seemed out of herself.
It was in vain that I went on my knees to soothe her irritation. She
treated my submission as acting, and ordered me out of the room. I
retired to my own apartments in tears. At dinner-time I ascended with
her, she still being very angry, to the apartments of the Grand Duke,
who inquired what was the matter, as my eyes were very red. I told him
exactly what had happened. This time he took my part, and accused my
mother of being capricious and passionate. I begged him not to speak to
her on the subject, which request he complied with, and by degrees her
anger wore off; but I was always treated very coldly. We left Peterhoff
at the end of July, and returned to the city, where all was preparation
for the approaching marriage.
At last the Empress fixed the 21st of August for the ceremony. As the
day came nearer, I became more and more melancholy. My heart predicted
but little happiness; ambition alone sustained me. In my inmost soul
there was a something which never allowed me to doubt for a single
moment that sooner or later I should become the sovereign Empress of
Russia in my own right.
The marriage was celebrated with much pomp and magnificence. In the
evening I found in my room Madame Krause, sister of the head lady's-maid
to the Empress, who had placed her with me as my head lady's-maid. From
the very next day I found that this person had thrown all my other women
into consternation, for on approaching one of them to speak to her, as
usual, she said to me, "In God's name, do not come near me; we have been
forbidden to whisper to you." On the other hand, my beloved spouse did
not trouble himself in the slightest degree about me, but was constantly
with his valets, playing at soldiers, exercising them in his room, or
changing his uniform twenty times a-day. I yawned, and grew weary,
having no one to speak to; or I endeavoured to keep up appearances. On
the third day after my marriage, the Countess Roumianzoff Sent me word
that the Empress had dispensed with her attendance on me, and that she
was going to return home to her husband and children. This did not
grieve me much, for she had been the cause of a great deal of scandal.
The marriage festivities lasted ten days, at the end of which the Grand
Duke and myself took up our residence in the Summer Palace, where the
Empress was living; and the departure of my mother was beginning to be
talked of. Since my marriage I did not see her every day; but she had
very much softened towards me. About the latter end of September she
took her departure, the Grand Duke and I accompanying her as far as
Krasnoe-Selo. I was sincerely afflicted, and wept a great deal. After
taking leave of her we returned to the city. On reaching the palace I
called for Mademoiselle Joukoff. I was told that she had gone to see her
mother who was ill. The next day I put the same question, and received
the same answer. About noon the Empress passed with great pomp from the
Summer to the Winter Palace. We followed her to her apartments. Having
reached the state bed-room she stopped, and, after some casual remarks,
spoke of my mother's departure, and told me, with apparent kindness, to
moderate my grief. But I thought I should have dropped when she said, in
the presence of some thirty people, that at my mother's request she had
dismissed from my service Mademoiselle Joukoff, because my mother feared
I might become too much attached to a person who so little deserved my
favour; and then her Majesty spoke very pointedly against the poor girl.
I certainly was no way edified with this scene, nor convinced of what
her Majesty advanced; but I was deeply afflicted at the misfortune of
poor Joukoff, dismissed from court solely because, from her sociable
disposition, she suited me better than my other women. "For why," as I
said to myself, "was she placed with me if she was not worthy?" My
mother could not know her, could not even speak to her, as she did not
understand Russian, the only language with which Joukoff was acquainted;
she could only have been guided by the silly remarks of Schenck, who
scarcely possessed common sense. This girl suffers for me, I said to
myself; I must not, therefore, abandon her in her misfortune, of which
my affection has been the sole cause. I have never been able to learn
whether or not my mother really had requested the Empress to dismiss
this person from my service; if so, she must have preferred violent
measures to those of mildness, for she never opened her lips to me in
reference to the girl; and yet a single word from her would have been
sufficient to put me on my guard, at least, against an attachment in
itself very innocent. The Empress, also, might have acted with less
austerity. The girl was young: it was only necessary to have found a
suitable match for her, which might easily have been done; but instead
of this they acted in the manner I have mentioned.
The Empress having dismissed us, the Grand Duke and I proceeded to our
own apartments. On our way, I perceived that her Majesty had already
acquainted her nephew with what she had done. I stated to him my
objections on the subject, and made him understand that this girl was
unfortunate solely because it was supposed that I had a liking for her;
and that since she was suffering on account of my affection, I thought
myself justified in not abandoning her, as far, at all events, as
depended on myself. In fact, I immediately sent her some money, through
my valet; but he informed me that she had already departed for Moscow
with her mother and sister. I ordered what I had destined for her to be
sent through her brother, who was a sergeant in the guards. I learnt
that he also, together with his wife, had been ordered away, and that he
had been placed as an officer in a country regiment. At the present time
I am scarcely able to give any plausible explanation of these things; it
seems to me like doing wrong gratis, and from mere caprice, without a
shadow of reason, or even of pretext. But matters did not stop even
here. Through my valet and my other attendants, I endeavoured to find
for Mademoiselle Joukoff a suitable match. One was proposed to me: it
was a sergeant in the guards, a gentleman of some property, named
Travin. He went to Moscow to marry her, provided she suited him. He did
marry her, and was made lieutenant in a country regiment. As soon as the
Empress heard of this, she banished them both to Astracan. It is
difficult to find a reason for such persecution.
At the Winter Palace, the Grand Duke and I occupied the apartments which
we had previously used; those of the Duke were separated from mine by an
immense staircase, which also led to the apartments of the Empress. In
going to him, or in his coming to me, it was necessary to cross the
landing of this staircase--not the pleasantest thing in the world,
especially in winter. Nevertheless, we made the passage several times
a-day. In the evening, I went to play at billiards in his ante-chamber
with the Chamberlain Berkholz, while he romped with his gentlemen in the
other room. My party at billiards was interrupted by the retirement of
Brummer and Berkholz, whom the Empress dismissed from attendance on the
Grand Duke, at the end of the winter of 1746. This winter was passed in
masquerades given at the principal houses in the city, which were then
very small. The court and the whole town assisted at them regularly.
The last of them was given by the Master-General of the Police,
Tatizcheff, in a house called Smolnoy Dvoretz, belonging to the Empress.
The centre portion of this wooden house had been destroyed by a fire;
nothing remained but the wings, which were of two stories. One of these
wings was set apart for dancing; but in order to go to supper, which was
laid out in the other, it was necessary to pass, and this in the month
of January, through the court-yard and the snow. After supper this
journey had to be repeated. The Grand Duke returned home, and went to
bed, but the next morning he awoke with a violent headache, which
prevented him from rising. I sent for the doctors, who pronounced him in
a burning fever of the most violent kind. He was carried in the evening
from my bed to the audience-chamber, where, after being bled, he was
placed in a bed arranged there for him. They bled him several times; he
was very ill. The Empress visited him frequently during the day, and
seeing me in tears, she was pleased with me. One evening, while reading
the night-prayers in a small oratory adjoining my dressing-room, Madame
Ismaïloff came in. She was a person of whom the Empress was very fond,
and she informed me that her Majesty, knowing I was much afflicted by
the illness of the Duke, had sent her to tell me not to be cast down,
but to put my trust in God, and that whatever happened she would not
forsake me. She then asked me what I was reading; I told her the prayers
for night, and she said I should hurt my eyes by reading such small
print by candle-light. I then begged her to thank her Imperial Majesty
for her goodness towards me, and we parted very affectionately, she to
give an account of her mission, I to go to bed. Next day the Empress
sent me a prayer-book printed in large type, in order to preserve my
eyes, she said.
Although the room in which the Grand Duke was placed adjoined mine, I
never entered it except when I felt that I should not be in the way, for
I saw that he did not care much to have me there, but preferred being
with his attendants, who, on the other hand, did not much suit me.
Besides, I was not much accustomed to pass my time alone among a set of
men. Meanwhile, Lent came round. I went to my duty (_fis mes
dévotions_)[5] the first week. Generally speaking, I was inclined to
devotion at that period. I saw plainly that the Grand Duke cared little
about me. A fortnight after our marriage he confessed to me again that
he was in love with Mademoiselle Carr, Maid of Honour to her Imperial
Majesty, since married to a Prince Galitzine, Equery to the Empress. He
told Count Devier,[6] his Chamberlain, that there was no comparison
between that lady and me. Devier maintained the contrary, and the Duke
got angry with him. This scene took place almost in my presence, and I
witnessed their contest. Surely, I said to myself, it would be
impossible for me not to be unhappy with such a man as this, were I to
give way to sentiments of tenderness thus requited. I might die of
jealousy without benefit to any one. I endeavoured therefore to master
my feelings, so as not to be jealous of a man who did not love me. Had
he wished to be loved, I should have found no difficulty in loving him.
I was naturally well disposed, and accustomed to fulfil my duties; but
then, too, I should have required a husband who had common sense, which
this one had not.
I had abstained[7] (_fait maigre_) during the first week of Lent. On the
Saturday, the Empress sent me word that it would give her pleasure if I
abstained during the second week also. I replied that I begged her
Majesty would permit me to abstain during the entire Lent. Sievers,
Marshal of the Court to the Empress, a son-in-law to Madame Krause, who
was the bearer of this message, told me that the Empress was greatly
pleased with my request, and that she granted it. When the Grand Duke
learned that I continued to abstain, he scolded me a good deal; but I
told him I could not do otherwise. After he had got well, he still
feigned illness in order not to leave his room, where he found more
congenial amusement than in the formal life of the court. He did not
quit it till the last week of Lent, when he went to his duty.
After Easter, he had a marionette theatre set up in his room, and
invited company to see it, and even ladies. This show was the most
insipid thing imaginable. The room in which it was set up had a door
which was fastened up, in consequence of its leading into one of the
Empress' apartments. In this apartment there was a mechanical table,
which could be lowered and raised so as to admit of dining without
servants. One day, while the Grand Duke was in his room preparing his
so-called theatricals, he heard people talking in this room beyond, and,
with his usual inconsiderate vivacity, he took up from his theatre one
of those carpenters' tools used for making holes in boards, and set to
work boring holes in this condemned door, so that he could see all that
passed within, and among other things, the dinner which the Empress was
then taking there. The Master of the Hounds, Count Razoumowsky, in a
brocaded dressing-gown, dined with her--he had taken medicine that
day--and there were, besides, some dozen persons of those most in the
confidence of the Empress. The Grand Duke, not content with enjoying the
fruit of his skilful labour himself, must needs call all who were about
him to share in the pleasure of looking through the holes which he had
bored with so much diligence. When all were fully satisfied with this
indiscreet pleasure, he came and invited Madame Krause, myself, and my
maids, to go to his room and see something which we had never seen
before. He did not tell us what it was, doubtless to give us an
agreeable surprise. As I did not hurry myself sufficiently to gratify
his impatience, he led away Madame Krause and my women. I arrived last,
and found them stationed in front of this door, where he had placed
benches, chairs, and stools, for the accommodation of the spectators, as
he said. On entering, I asked what all this was about. He ran to meet
me, and told me what the case was. I was terrified and indignant at his
rashness, and told him I would neither look nor have anything to do with
this impropriety, which would certainly bring him into trouble if his
aunt should come to hear of it, and this she could not well help doing,
seeing that there were at least twenty persons in his secret. All who
had allowed themselves to look through the door, finding that I would
not do the same, began to file off one after the other. The Duke himself
became ashamed of what he had done, and recommenced working on his
theatre. I returned to my room.
Up to the Sunday, we heard nothing of this affair; but on that day it
happened, I hardly know how, that I got to mass rather later than usual.
On returning to my room, I was about taking off my court dress, when I
saw the Empress enter with a flushed and angry look. As she had not been
at the chapel mass, but had heard mass in her private oratory, I went to
meet her, to kiss her hand as usual, as I had not seen her before that
day. She kissed me, desired the Grand Duke to be sent for, and, while
waiting for him, scolded me for being late at mass, and preferring my
own adornment to the service of God. She added that in the time of the
Empress Anne, though not living at court, but in a house at some
distance from the palace, she had never failed in her duties, but often
got up by candle-light for this purpose. Then she sent for the valet de
chambre who dressed my hair, and told him that for the future, if he was
so slow in dressing my hair, she would have him dismissed. When she had
ended with him, the Grand Duke, who had undressed in his own room,
entered in his dressing-gown, with his night cap in his hand, and with a
gay and careless air. He ran to kiss the hand of the Empress, who
embraced him, and then asked him how he had dared to act in the manner
he had done, adding that she had gone into the room which contained the
mechanical table, and found the door all pierced with holes, all these
holes being directed towards the place where she usually sat; that he
seemed to have forgotten what he owed her; that she could no longer
consider him as anything but an ungrateful person; that her father,
Peter I., had also an ungrateful son, and that he punished him by
disinheriting him; that, in the time of the Empress Anne, she had never
failed in giving her the respect due to a crowned head, anointed of the
Lord; that the Empress Anne did not understand jokes, but sent to the
Fortress those who were wanting in respect; that as for him, he was but
a little boy, and she would teach him how to behave. At this he began
to get angry, and would have answered her, stammering out a few words to
this effect, but she commanded him to be silent, and became so excited
that her anger knew no bounds, as was usually the case when she got into
a passion. She loaded him with insults, and said all sorts of shocking
things, treating him with as much contempt as anger.
We were thunderstruck, and although this scene did not refer directly to
me, yet tears came into my eyes. She perceived this, and said to me,
"This does not apply to you; I know that you had nothing to do with this
act, and that you neither looked nor wished to look through the door."
This remark, which was correct, calmed her a little, and she stopped;
besides, it would have been difficult for her to have gone farther than
she had done. She then wished us good morning, and retired, with a
flushed face and flashing eyes. The Grand Duke went to his room, and I
undressed in silence, ruminating on what I had heard. When I had done,
the Duke returned, and said to me--in a tone half sheepish, half
comical--"She was like a fury, and did not know what she said." "She was
dreadfully angry," I replied. We talked over the matter, and then dined
in my room, quite alone. When the Grand Duke had gone to his own
apartments, Madame Krause entered my room. "It must be acknowledged,"
she said, "that the Empress has acted like a true mother to-day." I saw
she wished to make me talk, and therefore I said nothing. She continued:
"A mother gets angry, scolds her children, and there the matter ends;
you ought both of you to have said to her, _I beg your pardon, Madame_,
and you would have disarmed her." I said I was astounded and petrified
by her Majesty's anger, and all I could do at the moment was to listen
and be silent. She then left me, probably to make her report. As for me,
the "_I beg your pardon, Madame_," as a means of disarming the anger of
the Empress, remained in my head; and I have since used it with success,
when occasion required, as will be seen in the sequel.
Some time before the Empress had relieved Count Brummer and the Great
Chamberlain from attendance on the Grand Duke, I happened one day to go
earlier than usual into the ante-chamber. The Count was there alone, and
seized the occasion to speak to me. He begged and entreated me to go
every day to the Empress' dressing-room, as my mother, at leaving, had
obtained permission for me to do; a privilege of which I had made very
little use hitherto, as it was a prerogative which wearied me
excessively. I had gone once or twice, and found there the Empress'
women, who retired by degrees, so that I was left alone. I told him
this. He said it was of no consequence, I ought to continue. But I could
not understand this courtier-like perseverance. It might answer his
views, but it did not at all suit me to be kept standing in the Empress'
dressing-room, and be, besides, an inconvenience to her. I stated to him
my repugnance, but he did everything to persuade me, though without
success. I was much better pleased to be in my own rooms, especially
when Madame Krause was not there. I had discovered in her this winter a
very decided propensity for drink, and as she soon after got her
daughter married to the Marshal of the Court, Sievers, she either was
out a good deal, or my people contrived to make her tipsy, when she went
to sleep, and my room was delivered from this surly Argus.
Count Brummer and the Grand Chamberlain Berkholz having been relieved
from their duties about the Prince, the Empress named as his attendant
General Prince Basil Repnine. A better appointment could not have been
made, for Prince Repnine was not only a man of honour and probity, he
was also a man of talent, a very worthy man, candid and straightforward.
For my own-self, I had every reason to be satisfied with the conduct of
Prince Repnine. For Count Brummer I felt no regret; he wearied me with
his eternal politics, he smelt of intrigue; while the frank and
soldier-like character of Prince Repnine inspired me with confidence. As
for the Grand Duke, he was delighted to get rid of his pedagogues, whom
he hated. In quitting him, however, they left him with no slight anxiety
at finding himself at the mercy of the intrigues of Count Bestoujeff,
who was the prime mover in all these changes, made under the plausible
pretext of the majority of his Imperial Highness in his duchy of
Holstein. Prince Augustus, my uncle, was still at St. Petersburg,
watching the administration of the Grand Duke's hereditary territory.
In the month of May we moved to the Summer Palace. At the end of the
month the Empress placed with me, as chief housekeeper, Madame
Tchoglokoff, one of her maids of honour, and her relative. This was a
thunderbolt for me. This lady was altogether in the interest of Count
Bestoujeff, extremely silly, spiteful, capricious, and very selfish. Her
husband, Chamberlain to the Empress, was then gone on some sort of
mission from her Majesty to Vienna. I wept a great deal on seeing her
arrive, and all the rest of the day. I was to be bled on the following
day. In the morning the Empress came to my room, and seeing my eyes red,
said to me that young women who did not love their husbands were always
crying; that my mother, however, had assured her I had no repugnance to
marrying the Grand Duke; that, besides, she had not forced me; that, as
I was married, I must not cry any more. I remembered the instructions of
Madame Krause, and said to her, _I beg your pardon, Madame_, and she was
appeased. Meanwhile the Grand Duke came in, and this time the Empress
received him very graciously, and then went away. I was bled, and indeed
I required it; I then went to bed, and wept the whole day. The next day,
the Grand Duke drew me aside in the course of the afternoon, and I saw
clearly that they had given him to understand that Madame Tchoglokoff
had been placed with me because I did not love him. But I cannot
understand how they expected to increase my attachment for him by giving
me that woman; and so I told him. As to placing her with me as an Argus,
that was a different matter. But if this was their object, they ought to
have chosen some one less stupid; and, besides, it was not necessary for
this purpose to be spiteful and malevolent. Madame Tchoglokoff was
thought to be extremely virtuous, because she loved her husband to
adoration. She had married him for love: so excellent an example placed
before me would perhaps persuade me to imitate it. We shall see how far
the experiment was successful. In all probability, it was the
circumstance which I am about to relate which precipitated this
arrangement. I say precipitated, because I believe that, from the
beginning, Count Bestoujeff had it in view to surround us with his
creatures. He would gladly have done the same in the case of the Empress
also, but that was not so easy.
The Grand Duke, at the time I arrived in Moscow, had in his service
three domestics named Czernicheff, all three sons of grenadiers in the
bodyguard of the Empress. Their fathers held the rank of lieutenant,
which they received as a recompense for having aided in placing the
Empress on the throne. The oldest of the Czernicheffs was cousin to the
two others, who were brothers. The Grand Duke was very fond of all
three. They were the persons most in his confidence, and were really
very useful. All three were tall and well made, especially the oldest.
The Duke made use of him in all his commissions, and several times in
the day he sent him to me. He it was, too, whom the Duke made his
confidant when he did not care to come to me. This man was on very
intimate and friendly terms with my valet Yevreinoff, and through this
channel I often knew things which I should otherwise have been ignorant
of. Besides, both of them were attached to me heart and soul, and I
often obtained information from them, on a variety of matters, which it
would have been difficult to have procured otherwise. I do not know in
reference to what it was that the oldest of the Czernicheffs said one
day to the Grand Duke, "she is not my intended, but yours." This
expression made the Grand Duke laugh. He related it to me, and from that
time it pleased his Imperial Highness, when speaking to me, to call me
his intended, and Andrew Czernicheff your intended. After our marriage
Andrew Czernicheff, to put a stop to this badinage, proposed to his
Imperial Highness to call me his mother, and I, on my part, called him
my son. Now between the Grand Duke and myself there was always some
reference to this son, for he was excessively attached to the man; and I
also liked him very much.
My servants were greatly disturbed on this account; some through
jealousy, others from apprehension of the consequences which might
result both for them and for us. One day when there was a masked ball at
court, and I had gone to my room to change my dress, my valet Timothy
Yevreinoff took me aside, and told me that he and all my servants were
terrified at the danger into which he saw me plunging. I asked him what
he meant. He said, "You speak of nothing and think of nothing but Andrew
Czernicheff." "Well," I said, in the innocence of my heart, "what harm
is there in that? He is my son. The Grand Duke likes him as much and
more than I do; and he is devoted and faithful to us." "Yes," he
replied, "that is all very true; the Grand Duke can do as he pleases;
but you have not the same right. What you call kindness and attachment,
because this man is faithful and serves you, your people call love." The
utterance of this word, which had never once occurred to me, was a
thunderbolt; first, on account of the opinion of my servants, which I
called rash; secondly, on account of the condition in which I had placed
myself, without being aware of it. He told me that he had advised his
friend Czernicheff to pretend illness in order to put an end to these
remarks. This advice Czernicheff followed, and his feigned illness
lasted pretty nearly to the month of April. The Grand Duke was much
concerned about him, and spoke of him continually to me. He had not the
slightest suspicion of the real circumstances. At the Summer Palace
Andrew Czernicheff again made his appearance. I could no longer meet him
without embarrassment. Meanwhile the Empress had thought proper to make
a new arrangement with the servants of the court. They were to serve in
turn in all the rooms, and Andrew Czernicheff like the rest. The Grand
Duke often had concerts in the afternoon, and he himself played the
violin at them. During one of these concerts, which usually wearied me,
I went to my own room. This opened into the great hall of the Summer
Palace, which was then filled with scaffoldings, as they were painting
the ceiling. The Empress was absent; Madame Krause had gone to her
daughter's, Madame Sievers; and I did not find a soul in my room. From
_ennui_ I opened the door of the hall, and saw at the other end Andrew
Czernicheff. I made a sign to him to approach; he came to the door,
though with much apprehension. I asked him if the Empress would return
soon. He said, "I cannot speak to you; they make too much noise in the
hall; let me come into your room." I replied, "That I will not do." He
was outside the door and I within, holding the door half open as I spoke
to him. An involuntary impulse made me turn my head in the direction
opposite to the door at which I stood, and I saw behind me at the other
door of my dressing-room, the Chamberlain, Count Divier, who said to me,
"The Grand Duke wishes to see you, madam." I closed the door of the
hall, and returned with Count Divier to the apartment where the Grand
Duke was giving his concert. I have since learnt that Count Divier was a
kind of reporter employed as such, like many others about me. The
following day, which was Sunday, after mass, we learnt--that is, the
Grand Duke and I--that the three Czernicheffs had been placed as
lieutenants in the regiments stationed near Orenburg; and in the
afternoon of this day Madame Tchoglokoff was placed with me.
A few days afterwards, we received orders to prepare to accompany the
Empress to Reval. At the same time, Madame Tchoglokoff told me from her
Majesty that, for the future, her Imperial Majesty would dispense with
my coming to her dressing-room, and that if I had any communication to
make to her it must not be made through any one but Madame Tchoglokoff.
In my own mind, I was delighted with this order, which relieved me from
the necessity of being kept standing among the Empress' women; besides,
I seldom went to her dressing-room, and then but rarely saw her. During
the whole time that I had been going there I had not seen her more than
three or four times, and, generally speaking, whenever I went, her women
quitted the room one after the other. Not to be left there alone, I
seldom stayed long either.
In the month of June the Empress set out for Reval, and we accompanied
her. The Grand Duke and I travelled in a carriage for four persons;
Prince Augustus and Madame Tchoglokoff made up its complement. Our plan
of travelling was neither agreeable nor convenient. The post-houses or
stations were occupied by the Empress; we were accommodated in tents or
in the outhouses. I remember that on one occasion, during this journey,
I dressed near the oven where the bread had just been baked; and that
another time, when I entered the tent where my bed was placed, there was
water in it up to the ankle. Besides all this, the Empress had no fixed
hour, either for setting out or stopping, for meals or repose. We were
all, masters and servants, strangely harassed.
After ten or twelve days' march, we reached an estate belonging to Count
Steinbock, forty verstes from Reval. From this place the Empress
departed in great state, wishing to reach Catherinthal in the evening;
but somehow it happened that the journey was prolonged till half-past
one in the morning.
During the entire journey, from St. Petersburg to Reval, Madame
Tchoglokoff was the torment of our carriage. To the simplest thing that
was said, she would reply, "Such a remark would displease her Majesty;"
or, "Such a thing would not be approved of by her Majesty." It was
sometimes to the most innocent and indifferent matters that she
attached these etiquettes. As for me, I made up my mind, and during the
whole journey slept continually while in the carriage.
From the day after our arrival at Catherinthal, the court recommenced
its ordinary round of occupations; that is to say, from morning till
night, and far into the night, gambling, and for rather high stakes, was
carried on in the ante-chamber of the Empress, a hall which divided the
house and its two stories into two sections.
Madame Tchoglokoff was a gambler; she induced me to play at faro like
the rest. All the favourites of the Empress were ordinarily fixed here
when they did not happen to be in her Majesty's room, or rather tent,
for she had erected a very large and magnificent tent at the side of her
apartments, which were on the ground floor, and very small, as was
usually the case with the structures of Peter I. He had built this
country residence, and planted the garden.
The Prince and Princess Repnine, who were of the party, and were aware
of the arrogant and senseless conduct of Madame Tchoglokoff during the
journey, persuaded me to speak of it to the Countess Schouvaloff and
Madame Ismaïloff, the ladies most in her Majesty's favour. These ladies
had no love for Madame Tchoglokoff, and they had already learnt what had
happened. The little Countess Schouvaloff, who was indiscretion itself,
did not wait for me to speak to her, but happening to be seated by my
side at play, she introduced the subject herself, and, being very
humorous, she placed the whole conduct of Madame Tchoglokoff in such a
ridiculous light, that she soon made her the laughing-stock of every
one. She did more; she related to the Empress all that had passed. It
would seem as if Madame Tchoglokoff had received a reproof, for she
lowered her tone very considerably with me. Indeed, there was much need
of this being done, for I began to feel a great tendency to melancholy.
I felt totally isolated. The Grand Duke, at Reval, took a passing fancy
for a Madame Cédéraparre. As usual, he did not fail to confide the
matter to me immediately. I had frequent pains in the chest, and at
Catherinthal a spitting of blood, for which I was bled. On the afternoon
of that day, Madame Tchoglokoff came to my room, and found me in tears.
With a countenance greatly softened, she asked me what was the matter,
and proposed to me, on the part of the Empress, to take a walk in the
garden, to dissipate my hopochondria, as she said. That day the Grand
Duke had gone to hunt with the Master of the Hounds, Count Razoumowsky.
She also placed in my hands, as a present from her Imperial Majesty,
3000 roubles, for playing at faro. The ladies had noticed that I was
without money, and told the Empress. I begged Madame Tchoglokoff to
thank her Majesty for her goodness, and then went with her for a walk in
the garden.
Some days after our arrival at Catherinthal, the High Chancellor, Count
Bestoujeff, arrived, accompanied by the Imperial Ambassador, the Baron
Preyslain, and we learned, by the tenor of his congratulations, that the
two imperial courts had just become united by a treaty of alliance. In
consequence of this, the Empress went to see her fleet manoeuvre; but,
except the smoke of the cannons, we saw nothing. The day was excessively
hot, and the sea perfectly calm. On returning from this manoeuvre,
there was a ball in the Empress' tents, which were erected on the
terrace. The supper was spread in the open air, around a basin intended
for a fountain; but scarcely had her Majesty taken her seat, when there
came on a shower which wetted the entire company, forcing it to
disperse and seek shelter, as best it could, in the houses and in the
tents. Thus ended this _fête_.
Some days afterwards the Empress departed for Roguervick. The fleet
manoeuvred there also, and again we saw nothing but smoke. In this
journey we all suffered very much in our feet. The soil of the place is
a rock, covered with a thick bed of pebbles, of such a nature that if
one stood for a short time in the same spot, the feet would sink in and
the pebbles cover them. We encamped here for several days, and were
forced to walk, in passing from tent to tent, and in our tents, upon
this ground. For more than four months afterwards my feet were sore in
consequence. The convicts who worked at the pier wore sabots, and even
these seldom lasted beyond eight or ten days.
The imperial ambassador had followed her Majesty to this port. He dined
there and supped with her half-way between Roguervick and Reval. During
this supper an old woman, who had reached the age of 130 years, was led
before the Empress. She looked like a walking skeleton. The Empress sent
her meat from her own table, as well as money, and we continued our
journey.
On our return to Catherinthal, Madame Tchoglokoff had the satisfaction
of finding there her husband, who had returned from his mission to
Vienna. Many of the court equipages had already taken the road for Riga,
whither the Empress intended to go. But on her return from Roguervick
she suddenly changed her mind. Many people tormented their brains, in
vain, to discover the cause of this change. Several years afterwards it
came to light. When M. Tchoglokoff was passing through Riga, a Lutheran
priest, a madman or a fanatic, placed in his hands a letter and a
memorial addressed to the Empress, in which he exhorted her not to
undertake this journey, as if she did she would incur the most imminent
risk; that there were people posted in ambush by the enemies of the
empire for the purpose of killing her, and such like absurdities. These
writings, being delivered to the Empress, left her in no humour for
travelling farther. As for the priest, he was found to be mad; but the
journey did not take place.
We returned by short stages from Reval to St. Petersburg. I caught in
this journey a severe sore throat, which compelled me to keep my bed for
several days; after which we went to Peterhoff, and thence made weekly
excursions to Oranienbaum.
At the beginning of August the Empress sent word to the Grand Duke and
myself that we ought to go to our duty. We both complied with her
wishes, and immediately began to have matins and vespers sung in our
apartments, and to go to mass every day. On the Friday, when we were to
go to confession, the cause of this order became apparent. Simon
Theodorsky, Bishop of Pleskov, questioned us both a great deal, and each
separately, respecting what had passed between the Czernicheffs and us.
But as nothing whatever had passed, he looked a little foolish when he
heard it asserted, with the candour of innocence, that there was not
even the shadow of what people had dared to suppose. He was so far
thrown off his guard as to say to me, "But how then is it that the
Empress has been impressed to the contrary?" To which I replied, that I
really did not know. I suppose our confessor communicated our confession
to the Empress' confessor, and that the latter retailed it to her
Majesty--a thing which certainly could do us no harm. We communicated
on the Saturday, and on the Monday went for a week to Oranienbaum, while
the Empress made an excursion to Zarskoe-Selo.
On arriving at Oranienbaum the Grand Duke enlisted all his suite. The
chamberlains, the gentlemen of the bed-chamber, the officers of the
court, the adjutants of Prince Repnine, and even his son, the servants,
the huntsmen, the gardeners, every one, in fact, had to shoulder his
musket. His Imperial Highness exercised them every day, and made them
mount guard, the corridor of the house serving as a guard-room, and here
they passed the day. For their meals the gentlemen went up stairs, and
in the evening they came into the hall to dance in gaiters. As for
ladies there were only myself, Madame Tchoglokoff, the Princess Repnine,
my three maids of honour, and my lady's-maids; consequently the ball was
very meagre and badly managed, the men harassed and in bad humour with
these continual military exercises, which did not suit the taste of
courtiers. After the ball they were allowed to go home to sleep.
Generally speaking, we were all dreadfully tired of the dull life we led
at Oranienbaum, where we were, five or six women, all to ourselves;
while the men, on their side, were engaged in unwilling exercises. I had
recourse to the books I had brought with me. Since my marriage I read a
great deal. The first book I read after my marriage was a novel called
Tiran the Fair (Tiran le blanc), and for a whole year I read nothing but
novels. But I began to tire of these. I stumbled by accident upon the
letters of Madame de Sévigné, and was much interested by them. When I
had devoured these, the works of Voltaire fell into my hands. After
reading them, I selected my books with more care.
We returned to Peterhoff, and after two or three journeys backwards and
forwards, between that place and Oranienbaum, with the same amusements,
we finally got back to St. Petersburg, and took up our residence in the
Summer Palace.
At the close of autumn the Empress passed to the Winter Palace, where
she occupied our apartments of the previous year; while we moved into
those occupied by the Grand Duke before our marriage. These we liked
very much, and, indeed, they were very convenient. They were those used
by the Empress Anne. Every evening the members of our court assembled in
our apartments, and we amused ourselves with all kinds of small games,
or we had a concert. Twice a-week there was a performance at the great
theatre, which at that time was opposite the church of Kasan. In a word,
this winter was one of the gayest and best managed I have ever spent. We
literally did nothing but laugh and romp the whole day.
About the middle of the winter, the Empress sent us word to follow her
to Tichvine, where she was going. It was a journey of devotion; but just
as we were about to enter our sledges, we learnt that the journey was
put off. It was whispered to us that the Master of the Hounds, Count
Razoumowsky, had got a fit of the gout, and that her Majesty did not
wish to go without him. About two or three weeks afterwards we did
start. The journey lasted only five days, when we returned. In passing
through Ribatchia Slobodk, and by the house where I knew the
Czernicheffs were, I tried to see them through the windows, but I could
see nothing. Prince Repnine was not in the party during this journey; we
were told that he had the gravel. The husband of Madame Tchoglokoff took
his place on the occasion, and this was not the most agreeable
arrangement in the world for most of us. He was an arrogant and brutal
fool; everybody feared him, and his wife as well; and indeed, they were
both mischievous and dangerous characters. However, there were means, as
will be seen in the sequel, not only of lulling these Arguses to sleep,
but even of gaining them over. At that time these means had not been
discovered. One of the surest was to play at faro with them; they were
both eager players, and very selfish ones. This weak point was the one
first perceived; the others came afterwards.
During this winter, the Princess Gagarine, maid of honour, died of a
burning fever, just as she was to be married to the Chamberlain Prince
Galitzine, who subsequently married her younger sister. I regretted her
very much, and during her illness I went several times to see her,
notwithstanding the representations of Madame Tchoglokoff. The Empress
replaced her by her elder sister, since married to count Matiuschkine.
She was then at Moscow, and was sent for accordingly.
In the spring, we went to the Summer Palace, and thence to the country.
Prince Repnine, under the pretext of bad health, received permission to
retire to his own house, and M. Tchoglokoff continued to discharge his
functions in the interim. He first signalized himself by the dismissal
from our court of Count Divier, who was placed as brigadier in the army,
and of the Gentleman of the Bedchamber Villebois, who was sent there as
colonel. These changes were made at the instigation of Tchoglokoff, who
looked on both with an evil eye, because he saw that we thought well of
them. A similar dismissal had taken place in 1745, in the case of Count
Zachar Czernicheff, sent away at the request of my mother. Still these
removals were always considered at court as disgraces, and they were
therefore sensibly felt by the individuals. The Grand Duke and myself
were much annoyed with this latter one. Prince Augustus, too, having
obtained all he had asked for, was told from the Empress that he must
now leave. This also was a manoeuvre of the Tchoglokoffs, who were
bent upon completely isolating us. In this they followed the
instructions of Count Bestoujeff, who was suspicious of everybody.
During this summer, having nothing better to do, and everything being
very dull at home, I took a passion for riding; the rest of my time I
spent in my room, reading everything that came in my way. As for the
Grand Duke, as they had taken from him the people he liked best, he
chose other favourites among the servants of the court.
During this interval, my valet Yevreinoff, while dressing my hair one
day, told me that by a strange accident he had discovered that Andrew
Czernicheff and his brothers were at Ribatchia, under arrest, in a
pleasure-house, which was the private property of the Empress, who had
inherited it from her mother. It was thus that the discovery was
made:--During the carnival, Yevreinoff went out for a drive, having his
wife and sister-in-law with him in the sledge, and the two
brothers-in-law behind. The sister's husband was secretary to the
Magistrate of St. Petersburg, and had a sister married to an
under-secretary of the secret Chancery. They went for a walk one day to
Ribatchia, and called on the man who had charge of this estate of the
Empress. A dispute arose about the Feast of Easter, as to what day it
would fall on. The host said that he would soon end the controversy by
asking the prisoners for a book called Swiatzj, which contained all the
Feasts, together with the calendar, for several years. In a few minutes
he brought it in. The brother-in-law of Yevreinoff took the book, and
the first thing he saw, on opening it, was that Andrew Czernicheff had
put his name in it, with the date of the day on which he had received it
from the Grand Duke. After this he looked for the Feast of Easter. The
dispute being ended, the book was sent back, and they returned to St.
Petersburg, where some days later, the brother-in-law of Yevreinoff
confided to him the discovery he had made. Yevreinoff entreated me not
to mention the matter to the Grand Duke, as his discretion was not at
all to be relied on. I promised him that I would not, and kept my word.
About the middle of Lent, we went with the Empress to Gostilitza, to
celebrate the feast-day of the Master of the Hounds, Count Razoumowsky.
We danced, and were tolerably well amused, and then returned to town.
A few days afterwards, the death of my father was announced to me. It
greatly afflicted me. For a week I was allowed to weep as much as I
pleased, but at the end of that time, Madame Tchoglokoff came to tell me
that I had wept enough; that the Empress ordered me to leave off; that
my father was not a king. I told her I knew that he was not a king, and
she replied that it was not suitable for a Grand Duchess to mourn for a
longer period a father who had not been a king. In fine, it was arranged
that I should go out on the following Sunday, and wear mourning for six
weeks.
The first day I left my room, I found Count Santi, Grand Master of
Ceremonies to the Empress, in her Majesty's ante-chamber. I addressed a
few casual remarks to him, and passed on. Some days later, Madame
Tchoglokoff came to tell me that her Majesty had learned from Count
Bestoujeff--to whom Santi had given the information in writing--that I
had told him (Santi) I thought it very strange that the ambassadors had
not offered their condolences to me on the occasion of my father's
death; that her Majesty considered my remarks to Count Santi very
uncalled for; that I was too proud; that I ought to remember that my
father was not a king, and therefore that I could not and must not
expect to receive the condolences of the foreign ministers. I was
astounded at this speech. I told Madame Tchoglokoff that, if Count Santi
had said or written that I had spoken to him a single word having the
least allusion to this subject, he was a notorious liar; that nothing of
the kind had ever entered my mind; and therefore that I had not uttered
a syllable to him or any one else in reference to it. This was the exact
truth, for I had laid it down to myself as an invariable rule never, in
any case, to make any pretensions, but to conform in everything to the
wishes of the Empress, and fulfil all her commands. It would seem that
the ingenuousness with which I replied to Madame Tchoglokoff carried
conviction to her mind, for she said she would not fail to tell the
Empress that I gave the lie to Count Santi. In fact, she went to her
Majesty, and came back to tell me that the Empress was extremely angry
with Count Santi for having uttered such a falsehood, and that she had
ordered him to be reprimanded. Some days afterwards, the Count sent
several persons to me, and among them the Chamberlain, Count Nikita
Panine, and the Vice-Chancellor, Woronzoff, to tell me that Count
Bestoujeff had forced him to tell this falsehood, and that he was sorry
to find himself in disgrace with me in consequence. I told these
gentlemen that a liar was a liar, whatever might be his reasons for
lying; and that, in order that Count Santi might not again mix me up
with his falsehoods, I should never speak to him. Here is what has
occurred to me in reference to this matter: Santi was an Italian. He
was fond of intermeddling, and attached much importance to his office of
Grand Master of Ceremonies. I had always spoken to him as I spoke to
every one else. He thought, perhaps, that compliments of condolence on
the part of the diplomatic corps might be admissible; and, judging by
his own feelings, he probably considered that this would be a means of
obliging me. He went then to Count Bestoujeff, the High Chancellor, and
his superior, and told him that I had appeared in public for the first
time, and seemed very much affected; the omission of the condolences
might have added to my grief. Count Bestoujeff, always carping, and
delighted to have an opportunity of humbling me, had all that Santi said
or insinuated--and which he had ventured to support with my name--put
into writing, and made him sign this protocol. Santi, terribly afraid of
his superior, and above all things dreading to lose his place, did not
hesitate to sign a falsehood rather than sacrifice his means of
existence. The High Chancellor sent the note to the Empress. She was
annoyed to see my pretensions, and despatched Madame Tchoglokoff to me,
as already mentioned. But having heard my reply, founded upon the exact
truth, the only result was a slap in the face for his excellency the
Grand Master of the Ceremonies.
In the country, the Grand Duke formed a pack of hounds, and began to
train dogs himself. When tired of tormenting these, he set to work
scraping on the violin. He did not know a note, but he had a good ear,
and made the beauty of music consist in the force and violence with
which he drew forth the tones of his instrument. Those who had to listen
to him, however, would often have been glad to stop their ears had they
dared, for his music grated on them dreadfully. This course of life
continued not only in the country, but also in town. On returning to
the Winter Palace, Madame Krause--who had all along been an
Argus--moderated so far as often even to aid in deceiving the
Tchoglokoffs, who were hated by every one. She did more: she procured
for the Grand Duke playthings--puppets, and such like childish toys, of
which he was passionately fond. During the day, they were concealed
within, or under my bed; the Grand Duke retired immediately after
supper, and as soon as we were in bed Madame Krause locked the door, and
then the Grand Duke played with his puppets till one or two o'clock in
the morning. Willing or unwilling, I was obliged to share in this
interesting amusement; and so was Madame Krause. I often laughed, but
more frequently felt annoyed, and even inconvenienced; the whole bed was
covered and filled with playthings, some of which were rather heavy. I
do not know whether Madame Tchoglokoff came to hear of these nocturnal
amusements, but one night, about twelve o'clock, she knocked at the door
of our bed room. We did not open it immediately, as the Grand Duke,
myself, and Madame Krause were scrambling with all our might to gather
up and conceal the toys: for this purpose the cover-lid of the bed
answered very well, as we crammed them all in under it. This done, we
opened the door. She complained dreadfully of having been kept waiting,
and told us that the Empress would be very angry when she learnt that we
were not asleep at that hour. She then sulkily departed, without having
made any further discovery. As soon as she was gone, the Duke resumed
his amusements until he became sleepy.
At the commencement of autumn we again returned to the apartments which
we had occupied after our marriage, in the Winter Palace. Here, a very
stringent order was issued by the Empress through M. Tchoglokoff,
forbidding every one from entering either my apartments or those of the
Grand Duke, without the express permission of M. and Madame Tchoglokoff.
The ladies and gentlemen of our court were directed, under pain of
dismissal, to keep in the ante-chamber, and not to pass the threshold,
or speak to us--or even to the servants--otherwise than aloud. The Grand
Duke and myself, thus compelled to sit looking at each other, murmured,
and secretly interchanged thoughts relative to this species of
imprisonment, which neither of us had deserved. To procure for himself
more amusement during the winter, the Duke had five or six hounds
brought from the country, and placed them behind a wooden partition
which separated the alcove of my bed-room from a large vestibule behind
our apartments. As the alcove was separated only by boards, the odour of
the kennel penetrated into it; and in the midst of this disgusting smell
we both slept. When I complained to him of the inconvenience, he told me
it was impossible to help it. The kennel being a great secret, I put up
with this nuisance, rather than betray his Imperial Highness.
As there was no kind of amusement at court during this carnival, the
Grand Duke took it into his head to have masquerades in my room. He
dressed his servants, mine, and my maids in masks, and made them dance
in my bed-room. He himself played the violin, and danced as well. All
this continued far into the night. As for me, under different pretexts
of headache or lassitude, I lay down on a couch, but always in a
masquerade dress, tired to death of the insipidity of these
_bal-masqués_, which amused him infinitely. When Lent came on, four more
persons were removed from attendance on him, three of them being pages,
whom he liked better than the others. These frequent dismissals affected
him; still he took no steps to prevent them, or he took them so clumsily
that they only tended to increase the evil.
During this winter, we learnt that Prince Repnine, ill as he was, had
been appointed to command the troops which were to be sent to Bohemia,
in aid of the Empress-Queen Maria Theresa. This was a formal disgrace
for Prince Repnine. He went, and never returned, having died of grief in
Bohemia. It was the Princess Gagarine, my maid of honour, who gave me
the first intimation of this, notwithstanding all the prohibitions
against allowing a word to reach us relative to what occurred in the
city or the court. This shows how useless are all such prohibitions.
There are too many persons interested in infringing them ever to allow
of their being strictly enforced. All about us, even to the nearest
relatives of the Tchoglokoffs, interested themselves in diminishing the
rigour of the kind of political imprisonment to which we were subjected.
There was no one, not even excepting Madame Tchoglokoff's own brother,
Count Hendrikoff, who did not contrive to give us useful intimations;
and many persons even made use of him to convey information to me, which
he was always ready to do with the frankness of a good and honest
fellow. He ridiculed the stupidities and brutalities of his sister and
brother-in-law in such a manner that every one was at ease with him, and
no one ever thought of distrusting him, for he never compromised any
one, nor had any person ever been disappointed in him. He was a man of
correct but limited judgment, ill-bred, and very ignorant, but firm, and
without any evil.
During this same Lent, one day about noon, I went into the room where
our ladies and gentlemen were assembled--the Tchoglokoffs had not yet
come--and in speaking first to one and then to another, I approached the
door near which the Chamberlain Outzine was standing. In a low voice he
turned the conversation to the subject of the dull life we led, and
said, that notwithstanding all this, people contrived to prejudice us in
the mind of the Empress; that a few days before, her Imperial Majesty
had said at table that I was overwhelmed with debt; that every thing I
did bore the stamp of folly; that for all that I thought myself very
clever--an opinion, however, in which no one else shared, for nobody was
deceived in me, my stupidity being patent to all; and therefore that it
was less necessary to mind what the Grand Duke did than what I did. He
added, with tears in his eyes, that he was ordered by the Empress to
tell me all this, but he begged me not to let it be supposed that he had
told me of this order. I replied, that as to my stupidity it ought not
to be objected to me as a fault, every one being just what God had made
him; that as to my debts it was not very surprising I should be in debt
when, with an allowance of 30,000 roubles, my mother, at parting, left
me to pay 6,000 roubles on her account, while the Countess Roumianzoff
had led me into innumerable expenses which she considered as
indispensable; that Madame Tchoglokoff alone cost me this year 17,000
roubles, and that he himself knew what infernal play one was constantly
obliged to play with them; that he might say all this to those who had
sent him; that for the rest, I was very sorry I had been prejudiced in
the opinion of her Imperial Majesty, to whom I had never failed in
respect, obedience, and deference, and that the more closely my conduct
was looked into the more would she be convinced of this. I promised him
the secrecy he asked for, and kept it. I do not know whether he
reported what I told him, but I fancy he did, though I heard no more of
the matter, and did not care to renew a conversation so little
agreeable.
During the last week of Lent, I took the measles. I could not make my
appearance at Easter, but received the communion in my room, on the
Saturday. During this illness, Madame Tchoglokoff, though far advanced
in pregnancy, scarcely ever left me, and did all she could to amuse me.
I had then a little Kalmuck girl, of whom I was very fond. She caught
the measles from me. After Easter, we went to the Summer Palace, and
thence, at the end of May--for the Feast of the Ascension--to the
residence of the Count Razoumowsky, at Gostilitza. The Empress invited
there, on the 23rd of this month, the Ambassador of the Imperial Court,
the Baron Breitlack, who was about to leave for Vienna. He spent the
evening there, and supped with the Empress. This supper was served at a
very late hour, and we returned to the cottage in which we were lodged
after sunrise. This cottage was of wood, placed on a slight elevation,
and attached to the slides.[8] We had been pleased with the situation of
this cottage when we were here in the winter, for the fête of the Master
of the Hounds; and, in order to gratify us, he had placed us in it on
the present occasion. It had two stories; the upper one consisted of a
staircase, a saloon, and three cabinets. In one of these we slept, the
Grand Duke used another as a dressing-room, and Madame Krause occupied
the third. Below were lodged the Tchoglokoffs, my maids of honour, and
my lady's-maids. On our return from supper, every one retired to rest.
About six o'clock in the morning, a sergeant in the guards, Levacheff,
arrived from Oranienbaum, to speak to Tchoglokoff relative to the
buildings which were in the course of erection there. Finding every one
asleep in the house, he sat down by the sentinel, and heard certain
crackling noises, which excited his suspicions. The sentinel told him
that these cracklings had been several times renewed since he had been
on duty. Levacheff got up, and ran to the outside of the house. He saw
that large blocks of stone were detaching themselves from the lower
portion. He ran and woke Tchoglokoff, telling him that the foundations
of the house were giving way, and that he must try and get every one out
of it. Tchoglokoff put on a dressing-gown, and ran up stairs; where,
finding the doors--which were of glass--locked, he burst them open. He
thus reached our room, and drawing the curtains, desired us to get up as
fast as possible and leave the house, as the foundations were giving
way. The Grand Duke leaped out of bed, seized his dressing-gown, and ran
off. I told Tchoglokoff that I would follow him, and he left me. While
dressing I recollected that Madame Krause slept in the next room, and
went to call her. She was so sound asleep that I had much difficulty in
waking her, and then in making her understand that she must leave the
house. I helped her to dress. When she was in a condition to go out, we
passed into the drawing-room; but we had scarcely done so, when there
was a universal crash, accompanied by a noise like that made by a vessel
launched from the docks. We both fell on the ground. At the moment of
our fall, Levacheff entered by the staircase door, which was opposite
us. He raised me up, and carried me out of the room. I accidentally cast
my eyes towards the slides: they had been on a level with the second
story; they were so no longer but some two or three feet below it.
Levacheff reached with me as far as the stairs by which he had ascended;
they were no longer to be found, they had fallen; but several persons
having climbed upon the wreck, Levacheff passed me to the nearest, these
to the others, and thus from hand to hand I reached the bottom of the
staircase in the hall, and thence was carried into a field. I there
found the Grand Duke in his dressing-gown.
Once out of the house, I directed my attention to what was passing
there, and saw several persons coming out of it all bloody, while others
were carried out. Amongst those most severely wounded was the Princess
Gagarine, my maid of honour. She had tried to escape like the rest, but
in passing through a room adjoining her own, a stove, which fell down,
overturned a screen, by which she was thrown upon a bed, which was in
the room. Several bricks fell upon her head, and wounded her severely,
as they did also a girl who was with her. In this same story there was a
small kitchen, in which several servants slept, three of whom were
killed by the fall of the fire-place. This, however, was nothing
compared with what occurred between the foundations and the ground
floor. Sixteen workmen attached to the slides slept there, and all of
them were crushed to death by the fall of the house. All this mischief
arose from the house having been built in the autumn, and in a hurry.
They had given it as a foundation four layers of limestone. In the lower
story the architect had placed, in the vestibule, twelve beams, which
served as pillars. He had to go to the Ukraine, and at his departure
told the manager of the estate of Gostilitza not to allow any one to
touch those beams till his return. Yet, notwithstanding this
prohibition, when the manager learnt we were to occupy this cottage,
nothing would do but he must immediately remove these beams, because
they disfigured the vestibule. Then, when the thaw came, everything sank
upon the four layers of limestone, which gave way in different
directions, and the entire building slid towards a hillock, which
arrested its progress. I escaped with a few slight bruises and a great
fright, for which I was bled. This fright was so general and so great
amongst us all, that for more than four months afterwards, if a door was
only slammed with a little extra force, every one started. On the day of
the accident, when the first terror had passed, the Empress, who
occupied another house, sent for us, and, as she wished to make light of
the danger we had been in, every one tried to see little in it, and some
none at all. My terror displeased her very much, and she was out of
humour with me. The Master of the Hounds wept, and was inconsolable; he
talked of blowing out his brains. I presume he was prevented, for he did
nothing of the kind, and the next day we returned to St. Petersburg, and
some weeks later to the Summer Palace.
I do not exactly remember, but I fancy it was about this time that the
Chevalier Sacromoso arrived in Russia. It was a long time since a Knight
of Malta had visited this country, and, generally speaking, few persons
came to St. Petersburg in those days; his arrival, therefore, was a sort
of event. He was received with marked attention, and was shown
everything worthy of note in St. Petersburg and Cronstadt. A naval
officer of distinction was appointed to accompany him. This was M.
Poliansky, then captain of a man-of-war, since an admiral. He was
presented to us. In kissing my hand he slipped into it a very small
note, saying at the same time, in a low voice, "It is from your
mother." I was almost stupefied with terror at this act. I dreaded its
being observed by some one or other, especially by the Tchoglokoffs, who
were close by. However, I took the note, and slipped it into my right
hand glove; no one had noticed it. On returning to my room, I found, in
fact, a letter from my mother, rolled up in a slip of paper, on which it
was stated that the Chevalier expected an answer through an Italian
musician, who attended the Grand Duke's concerts. My mother, rendered
anxious by my involuntary silence, wanted to know the cause of it; she
also wished to know in what situation I was. I wrote to her, giving her
the information she required. I told her that I had been forbidden to
write to any one, under the pretext that it did not become a Grand
Duchess of Russia to write any letters but such as were composed at the
Office of Foreign Affairs, where I was only to attach my signature, and
never to dictate what was to be written, because the ministers knew
better than I did what was proper to be said; that it had almost been
made a crime in M. Olzoufieff that I had sent him a few lines, which I
begged him to enclose in a letter to my mother. I also gave her
information on several other points, about which she had inquired. I
rolled up my note in the same manner as the one I had received, and
watched with impatience and anxiety the moment for getting rid of it. At
the first concert given by the Grand Duke, I made the tour of the
orchestra, and stopped behind the chair of the solo violinist,
D'Ologlio, who was the person pointed out to me. When he saw me come
behind his chair, he pretended to take his handkerchief from his
coat-pocket, and in doing so left his pocket wide open. Without any
appearance of action, I slipped my note into it, and no one had the
slightest suspicion of what had happened. During his stay in St.
Petersburg, Sacromoso delivered to me two or three other notes having
reference to the same matter; my answers were returned in the same
manner, and no one was ever the wiser.
From the Summer Palace we went to Peterhoff, which was then being
rebuilt. We were lodged in the upper palace, in Peter the First's old
house, which was standing at that time. Here, to pass the time, the
Grand Duke took it into his head to play with me every afternoon at
two-handed ombre. When I won he got angry, and when I lost he wanted to
be paid forthwith. I had no money, so he began to play at games of
hazard with me, quite by ourselves. I remember on one occasion his
night-cap stood with us for 10,000 roubles; but when at the end of the
game he was a loser, he became furious, and would sometimes sulk for
many days. This kind of play was not in any way to my taste.
During this stay at Peterhoff we saw from our windows, which looked out
upon the garden towards the sea, that M. and Madame Tchoglokoff were
continually passing and repassing from the upper palace towards that of
Monplaisir on the sea-shore, where the Empress was then residing. This
excited our curiosity, and that of Madame Krause also, to know the
object of all these journeys. For this purpose Madame Krause went to her
sister's, who was head lady's-maid to the Empress. She returned quite
radiant with pleasure, having learned that all these movements were
occasioned by its having come to the knowledge of the Empress that M.
Tchoglokoff had had an intrigue with one of my maids of honour,
Mademoiselle Kocheleff, who was with child in consequence. The Empress
had sent for Madame Tchoglokoff and told her that her husband deceived
her, while she loved him like a fool; that she had been blind to such a
degree as to have this girl, the favourite of her husband, almost living
with her; that if she wished to separate from her husband at once it
would not be displeasing to her Majesty, who even from the beginning had
not regarded her marriage with M. Tchoglokoff with a favourable eye. Her
Majesty declared to her point-blank that she did not choose him to
continue with us, but would dismiss him and leave her in charge. Madame
Tchoglokoff at first denied the passion of her husband, and maintained
that the charge against him was a calumny; but in the meantime her
Majesty had sent some one to question the young lady, who at once
acknowledged the fact. This rendered Madame Tchoglokoff furious against
her husband. She returned home and abused him. He fell upon his knees
and begged her pardon, and made use of all his influence over her to
soothe her anger. The brood of children which they had also helped to
patch up their difference; but their reconciliation was never sincere.
Disunited in love, they remained connected by interest. The wife
pardoned her husband; she went to the Empress, and told her that she had
forgiven everything, and wished to remain with him for the sake of her
children. She entreated her Majesty on her knees not to dismiss him
ignominiously from court, saying that this would be to disgrace her and
complete her misery. In a word, she behaved so well on this occasion,
and with such firmness and generosity, and her grief besides was so
real, that she disarmed the anger of the Empress. She did more; she led
her husband before her Imperial Majesty, told him many home truths, and
then threw herself with him at the feet of her Majesty, and entreated
her to pardon him for her sake and that of her six children, whose
father he was. These different scenes lasted five or six days; and we
learned, almost hour by hour, what was going on, because we were less
watched during the time, as every one hoped to see these people
dismissed. But the issue did not answer their expectations; no one was
dismissed but the young lady, who was sent back to her uncle, the Grand
Marshal of the Court, Chepeleff; while the Tchoglokoffs remained, less
glorious, however, than they had been. The day of our departure for
Oranienbaum was chosen for the dismissal of Mademoiselle Kocheleff; and
while we set off in one direction, she went in another.
At Oranienbaum, we resided, this year, in the town, to the right and
left of the main building, which was small. The affair of Gostilitza had
given such a thorough fright, that orders had been issued to examine the
floors and ceilings in all the houses belonging to the court, and to
repair those which required attention.
This is the kind of life I led at Oranienbaum: I rose at three o'clock
in the morning, and dressed myself alone from head to foot in male
attire; an old huntsman whom I had was already waiting for me with the
guns; a fisherman's skiff was ready on the sea-shore: we traversed the
garden on foot, with our guns upon our shoulders; entered the boat
together with a fisherman and a pointer, and I shot ducks in the reeds
which bordered on both sides the canal of Oranienbaum, which extends two
verstes into the sea. We often doubled this canal, and consequently were
occasionally, for a considerable time, in the open sea in this skiff.
The Grand Duke came an hour or two after us; for he must needs always
have a breakfast and God knows what besides, which he dragged after him.
If we met we went together, if not each shot and hunted alone. At ten
o'clock, and often later, I returned and dressed for dinner. After
dinner we rested; and in the evening the Grand Duke had music, or we
rode out on horseback. Having led this sort of life for about a week, I
felt myself very much heated and my head confused. I saw that I required
repose and dieting; so for four-and-twenty hours I ate nothing, drank
only cold water, and for two nights slept as long as I could. After this
I recommenced the same course of life, and found myself quite well. I
remember reading at that time the Memoirs of Brantôme, which greatly
amused me. Before that I had read the Life of Henri IV. by Périfix.
Towards autumn we returned to town, and learned that we were to go to
Moscow in the course of the winter. Madame Krause came to tell me that
it was necessary to increase my stock of linen for this journey. I
entered into the details of the matter; Madame Krause pretended to amuse
me by having the linen cut up in my room, in order, as she said, to
teach me how many chemises might be cut from a single piece of cloth.
This instruction or amusement seems to have displeased Madame
Tchoglokoff, who had become very ill-tempered since the discovery of her
husband's infidelity. I know not what she told the Empress; but, at all
events, she came to me one afternoon and said that her Majesty had
dispensed with Madame Krause's attendance on me, and that she was going
to retire to the residence of her son-in-law the Chamberlain Sievers;
and next day Madame Tchoglokoff brought Madame Vladislava to me to
occupy her place. Madame Vladislava was a tall woman, apparently well
formed, and with an intelligent cast of features, which rather
prepossessed me at the first look. I consulted my oracle Timothy
Yevreinoff relative to this choice. He told me that this woman, whom I
had never before seen, was the mother-in-law of the Counsellor
Pougovichnikoff, head clerk to Count Bestoujeff; that she was not
wanting either in intelligence or sprightliness, but was considered very
artful; that I must wait and see how she conducted herself, and
especially be careful not to place much confidence in her. She was
called Praskovia Nikitichna. She began very well; she was sociable, fond
of talking, conversed and narrated with spirit, and had at her fingers'
ends, all the anecdotes of the time, past and present. She knew four or
five generations of all the families, could give at a moment everybody's
genealogy, father, mother, grandfathers, grandmothers, together with
their ancestors, paternal and maternal; and from no one else have I
received so much information relative to all that has occurred in Russia
for the last hundred years. The mind and manners of this woman suited me
very well; and when I felt dull I made her chat, which she was always
ready to do. I easily discovered that she very often disapproved of the
sayings and doings of the Tchoglokoffs; but as she also went very often
to her Majesty's apartments, no one knew why, we were obliged to be on
our guard with her, to a certain degree, not knowing what interpretation
might be put upon the most innocent words and actions.
From the Summer Palace we passed to the Winter Palace. Here was
presented to us Madame La Tour l'Annois, who had been in attendance on
the Empress in her early youth, and had accompanied the Princess Anna
Petrovna, eldest daughter of Peter I., when she left Russia with her
husband, the Duke of Holstein, during the reign of the Emperor Peter II.
After the death of this Princess, Madame l'Annois returned to France,
and she now came to Russia, either to remain there, or possibly to
return after having obtained some favours from her Majesty. Madame
l'Annois hoped, on the ground of old acquaintance, to re-enter into the
favour and familiarity of the Empress. But she was greatly deceived;
every one conspired to exclude her. From the first few days after her
arrival I foresaw what would happen, and for this reason: One evening,
while they were at cards in the Empress' apartment, her Majesty
continued moving from room to room without fixing herself anywhere, as
was her custom; Madame l'Annois, hoping, no doubt, to pay her court to
her, followed her wherever she went. Madame Tchoglokoff seeing this,
said to me, "See how that woman follows the Empress everywhere; but that
will not continue long, she will very soon drop that habit of running
after her." I took this as settled, and, in fact, she was first kept at
a distance, and finally sent back to France with presents.
During this winter was celebrated the marriage of Count Lestocq with
Mademoiselle Mengden, Maid of Honour to the Empress. Her Majesty and the
whole court assisted at it, and she paid the newly-married couple the
honour of visiting them at their own house. One would have said that
they enjoyed the highest favour, but in a couple of months afterwards
fortune turned. One evening, while looking on at those engaged at play
in the apartments of the Empress, I saw the Count, and advanced to speak
to him. "Do not come near me," he said in a low tone, "I am a suspected
man." I thought he must be jesting, and asked what he meant. He replied,
"I tell you quite seriously not to come near me, because I am a
suspected man, whom people must shun." I saw that he had an altered
look, and was extremely red. I fancied he must have been drinking, and
turned away. This happened on the Friday. On the Sunday morning, while
dressing my hair, Timothy Yevreinoff said to me, "Are you aware that
last night Count Lestocq and his wife were arrested, and conducted to
the Fortress as state criminals?" No one knew why, but it became known
that General Stephen Apraxine and Alexander Schouvaloff had been named
commissioners for this affair.
The departure of the court for Moscow was fixed for the 16th of
December. The Czernicheffs had been transported to the Fortress, and
placed in a house belonging to the Empress, called Smolnoy Dvoretz. The
elder of the three sometimes made his guards drunk, and then went and
walked into town to his friends. One day, a Finnish wardrobe-maid, who
was in my service, and was engaged to be married to a servant belonging
to the court, a relation of Yevreinoff, brought me a letter from Andrew
Czernicheff, in which he asked me for several things. This girl had seen
him at the house of her intended, where they had spent the evening
together. I was at a loss where to conceal this letter when I got it,
for I did not like to burn it, as I wanted to remember what he asked
for. I had long been forbidden to write even to my mother. I purchased,
through this girl, a silver pen and an inkstand. During the day I had
the letter in my pocket; when I undressed, I slipped it under my garter,
into my stocking, and before going to bed I removed it, and placed it in
my sleeve. At last I answered it; sent him what he asked for through the
channel by which his letter had reached me, and then, at a favourable
moment, burned this letter which had occasioned me so much anxiety.
About the middle of December we set out for Moscow. The Grand Duke and I
occupied a large sledge, and the gentlemen in waiting sat in the front.
During the day the Grand Duke joined M. Tchoglokoff in a town sledge,
while I remained in the large one. As we never closed this, I conversed
with those who were seated in front. I remember that the Chamberlain,
Prince Alexander Jourievitch Troubetzkoy, told me, during this time,
that Count Lestocq, then a prisoner in the Fortress, wanted to starve
himself during the first eleven days of his detention, but that he had
been forced to take nourishment: he had been accused of having accepted
1,000 roubles from the King of Prussia to support his interests, and for
having had a person named Oettinger, who might have borne witness
against him, poisoned. He was subjected to the torture, and then exiled
to Siberia.
In this journey, the Empress passed us at Tver, and as the horses and
provisions intended for us were taken by her suite, we remained
twenty-four hours at Tver without horses, and without food. We were
dreadfully hungry. Towards night Tchoglokoff had prepared for us a
roasted sturgeon, which we thought delicious. We set off at night, and
reached Moscow two or three days before Christmas. The first thing we
heard there was, that the Chamberlain of our Court, Prince Alex. Mich.
Galitzine, had received, at the moment of our departure from St.
Petersburg, an order to repair to Hamburg as minister of Russia, with a
salary of 4,000 roubles. This was looked upon as another case of
banishment: his sister-in-law, Princess Gagarine, who was with me,
grieved very much, and we all regretted him.
We occupied at Moscow the apartments which I had inhabited with my
mother in 1744. To go to the great church of the court, it was necessary
to make the circuit of the house in a carriage. On Christmas-day, at the
hour for mass, we were on the point of descending to our carriage, and
were already on the stairs, during a frost of 29 degrees, when a message
came from the Empress to say that she dispensed with our going to church
on this occasion, on account of the extreme cold; it did, in fact,
pinch our noses. I was obliged to keep my room during the early portion
of our residence in Moscow, on account of the excessive quantity of
pimples which had come on my face: I was dreadfully afraid of having to
continue with a pimpled face. I called in the physician Boërhave, who
gave me sedatives, and all sorts of things to dispel these pimples. At
last, when nothing was of avail, he said to me one day, "I am going to
give you something which will drive them away." He drew from his pocket
a small phial of oil of Falk, and told me to put a drop in a cup of
water, and to wash my face with it from time to time, say, for instance,
once a-week. And really the oil of Falk did clear my face, and by the
end of some ten days I was able to appear. A short time after our
arrival in Moscow (1749), Madam Vladislava came to tell me that the
Empress had ordered the marriage of my Finnish wardrobe-maid to take
place as soon as possible. The only apparent reason for thus hastening
her marriage was, that I had shown some predilection for her; for she
was a merry creature, who from time to time made me laugh by mimicking
every one, Madame Tchoglokoff especially being hit off in a very amusing
manner. She was married, then, and no more said about her.
In the middle of the Carnival, during which there were no amusements
whatever, the Empress was seized with a violent cholic, which threatened
to be serious. Madame Vladislava and Timothy Yevreinoff each whispered
this in my ear, entreating me not to mention to any one who had told me.
Without naming them, I informed the Grand Duke of it, and he became very
much elated. One morning, Yevreinoff came to tell me that the Chancellor
Bestoujeff and General Apraxine had passed the previous night in the
apartment of M. and Madame Tchoglokoff, which seemed to imply that the
Empress was very ill. Tchoglokoff and his wife were more gruff than
ever; they came into our apartments, dined there, supped, but never
allowed a word to escape them relative to this illness. We did not speak
of it either, and consequently did not dare to send and inquire how her
Majesty was, because we should have been immediately asked, "How,
whence, by whom came you to learn, that she was ill?" and any one named,
or even suspected, would infallibly have been dismissed, exiled, or even
sent to the Secret Chancery, that state inquisition, more dreaded than
death itself. At last her Majesty, at the end of ten days, became
better, and the wedding of one of her maids of honour took place at
court. At table I was seated by the side of the Countess Schouvaloff,
the favourite of the Empress. She told me that her Majesty was still so
weak from the severe illness she had just had, that she had placed her
diamonds on the bride's head (an honour which she paid to all her maids
of honour) while seated in bed, her feet only being outside; and that it
was for this reason she was not present at the wedding-feast. As the
Countess Schouvaloff was the first to speak to me of this illness, I
expressed to her the pain which her Majesty's condition gave me, and the
interest I took in it. She said her Majesty would be pleased to learn
how much I felt for her. Two mornings after this, Madame Tchoglokoff
came to my room, and, in the presence of Madame Vladislava, told me that
the Empress was very angry with the Grand Duke and myself on account of
the little interest we had taken in her illness, even carrying our
indifference to such an extent as not once to send and inquire how she
was. I told Madame Tchoglokoff that I appealed to herself, that neither
she nor her husband had spoken a single word to us about the illness of
her Majesty, and that knowing nothing of it, we had not been able to
testify our interest in it. She replied, "How can you say that you knew
nothing of it, when the Countess Schouvaloff has informed her Majesty
that you spoke to her at table about it." I replied, "It is true that I
did so, because she told me her Majesty was still weak and could not
leave her room, and then I asked her the particulars of this illness."
Madame Tchoglokoff went away grumbling, and Madame Vladislava said it
was very strange to try and pick a quarrel with people about a matter of
which they were ignorant; that since the Tchoglokoffs alone had the
right to speak of it, and did not speak, the fault was theirs, not ours,
if we failed through ignorance. Some time afterwards, on a court-day,
the Empress approached me, and I found a favourable moment for telling
her that neither Tchoglokoff nor his wife had given us any intimation of
her illness, and that therefore it had not been in our power to express
to her the interest we had taken in it. She received this very well, and
it seemed to me that the credit of these people was diminishing.
The first week of Lent, M. Tchoglokoff wished to go to his duty. He
confessed, but the confessor of the Empress forbade him to communicate.
The whole court said it was by the order of her Majesty, on account of
his adventure with Mademoiselle Kocheleff. During a portion of our stay
at Moscow, M. Tchoglokoff appeared to be intimately connected with Count
Bestoujeff and his tool General Stephen Apraxine. He was continually
with them, and, to hear him speak, one would have supposed him to be the
intimate adviser of Count Bestoujeff--a thing that was quite impossible,
for Bestoujeff had far too much sense to allow himself to be guided by
such an arrogant fool as Tchoglokoff. But, at about half the period of
our stay, this intimacy suddenly ceased--I do not exactly know why--and
Tchoglokoff became the sworn enemy of those with whom he had been so
intimate a short time previously.
Shortly after my arrival in Moscow, I began, for want of other
amusement, to read the History of Germany, by le Père Barre, canon of
Ste. Geneviève, in nine volumes quarto. Every week I finished one, after
which I read the works of Plato. My rooms faced the street; the
corresponding ones were occupied by the Duke, whose windows opened upon
a small yard. When reading in my room, one of my maids usually came in,
and remained there standing as long as she wished; she then retired, and
another took her place when she thought it suitable. I made Madame
Vladislava see that this routine could serve no useful purpose, but was
merely an inconvenience; that, besides, I already had much to suffer
from the proximity of my apartments to those of the Grand Duke, by which
she, too, was equally discommoded, as she occupied a small cabinet at
the end of my rooms. She consented, therefore, to relieve my maids from
this species of etiquette. This is the kind of annoyance we had to put
up with, morning, noon and night, even to a late hour: The Grand Duke,
with rare perseverance, trained a pack of dogs, and with heavy blows of
his whip, and cries like those of the huntsmen, made them fly from one
end to the other of his two rooms, which were all he had. Such of the
dogs as became tired, or got out of rank, were severely punished, which
made them howl still more. When he got tired of this detestable
exercise, so painful to the ears and destructive to the repose of his
neighbours, he seized his violin, on which he rasped away with
extraordinary violence, and very badly, all the time walking up and
down his rooms. Then he recommenced the education and punishment of his
dogs, which to me seemed very cruel. On one occasion, hearing one of
these animals howl piteously and for a long time, I opened the door of
my bed-room, where I was seated, and which adjoined the apartment in
which this scene was enacted, and saw him holding this dog by the
collar, suspended in the air, while a boy who was in his service, a
Kalmuck by birth, held the animal by the tail. It was a poor little King
Charles's dog of English breed, and the Duke was beating him with all
his might with the heavy handle of a whip. I interceded for the poor
beast, but this only made him redouble his blows. Unable to bear so
cruel a scene, I returned to my room with tears in my eyes. In general,
tears and cries, instead of moving the Duke to pity, put him in a
passion. Pity was a feeling that was painful, and even insupportable in
his mind.
About this time, my valet Timothy Yevreinoff transmitted to me a letter
from his old comrade Andrew Czernicheff, who had at last been set at
liberty, and was passing near Moscow, to join the regiment in which he
had been placed as lieutenant. I managed with this letter as with the
former one, sent him all he asked for, and never mentioned a word about
the matter either to the Grand Duke or any one else.
In the spring, the Empress took us to Perova, where we spent some days
with her at the residence of Count Razoumowsky. The Grand Duke and M.
Tchoglokoff scoured the woods almost daily, accompanied by the master of
the house. I read in my room, or else Madame Tchoglokoff, when she was
not at cards, came and kept me company to dissipate her ennui. She
complained bitterly of the amusements of this place, and especially of
the constant indulgence of her husband in the sports of the chase, for
he had become a passionate sportsman since he had received at Moscow the
present of a beautiful English greyhound. I learned from others that he
was the laughing-stock of all the sportsmen, and that he fancied, and
was made to believe that his Circe (the name of his dog) caught all the
hares that were taken. In general, M. Tchoglokoff was very apt to
believe that everything belonging to him was of rare beauty and
excellence; his wife, his children, his servants, his house, his table,
his horses, his dogs--everything that was his, although in reality very
mediocre, participated in his self love, and, as belonging to him,
became in his eyes of incomparable value.
One day, while at Perova, I was seized with a headache so violent that I
do not remember ever having had anything like it in my life. The
excessive pain brought on violent sickness. I threw up repeatedly, and
every movement in my room made me worse. I remained in this state for
nearly four-and-twenty hours, and then fell asleep. The next day I felt
nothing but weakness. Madame Tchoglokoff took all possible care of me
during this severe attack. Generally speaking, all the persons who had
been placed about me by an ill-will the most unequivocal, began in a
short time to take an involuntary interest in me; and, when they were
not interfered with or stimulated anew, they used to act against the
principles of their employers, and yield to the impulse which attracted
them towards me, or rather to the interest with which I inspired them.
They never found me sulky or peevish, but always ready to meet the
slightest advance on their part. In all this my natural gaiety was of
great service to me, for all these Arguses were often amused with my
conversation, and relaxed in spite of themselves.
Her Majesty had a new attack of cholic at Perova. She was carried to
Moscow, and we went slowly to the palace, which is only four verstes
from there. This attack had no ill consequence, and shortly afterwards
she made a pilgrimage to the convent of Troïtza. She wished to make
these sixty verstes on foot, and for this purpose went to Pokrovskoe
House. We were ordered to take the Troïtza road, and we took up our
quarters on this road about eleven verstes from Moscow, at a very small
country-house called Rajova, belonging to Madame Tchoglokoff. The only
accommodations were a small saloon in the centre of the house, and two
very small rooms on each side of it. Tents were placed round the house
for the use of our suite. The Grand Duke had one; I occupied one of the
little rooms, Madame Vladislava another, the Tchoglokoffs the remainder.
We dined in the saloon. The Empress walked three or four verstes, then
rested some days. This journey lasted nearly the whole summer. We hunted
every day after dinner.
When her Majesty reached Taïninskoe, which is nearly opposite Rajova, on
the other side of the high road leading to the convent of Troïtza, the
Hetman, Count Razoumowsky, younger brother of the favourite--who was
residing at his country seat of Pokrovskoe, on the road to St.
Petersburg, on the other side of Moscow--took it into his head to come
and see us every day at Rajova. He was very gay, and nearly of our own
age. We liked him very much. As brother of the favourite, M. and Madame
Tchoglokoff willingly received him into their house. His assiduity
continued all the summer, and we were always pleased to see him. He
dined and supped with us, and after supper returned again to his estate;
he consequently travelled forty or fifty verstes a-day. Some twenty
years later, it occurred to me to ask him what it was that could then
induce him to come and share the dulness and insipidity of our life at
Rajova, while his own house was daily crowded with the best company at
Moscow. He replied, unhesitatingly, "Love." "But what on earth could you
have found to love at our house?" "What!" he said, "why, you." I burst
into a loud laugh, for the idea had never once crossed my mind; besides
he had been married for some years to a rich heiress of the house of
Narichkine, whom the Empress had made him marry, a little against his
will it is true, but with whom he seemed to live on good terms. Added to
this, it was well known that the handsomest women of the court and city
contended for his notice; and, indeed, he was a fine man, of an original
turn, very agreeable, and with far more intelligence than his brother,
who however equalled him in beauty, while surpassing him in generosity
and kindness. These two brothers were the most generally liked
favourites I have ever known.
About the Feast of St. Peter, the Empress sent us word to join her at
Bratovchina. We repaired thither immediately. As during the spring and a
part of the summer I had either been engaged in sporting, or otherwise
constantly in the open air, Rajova House being so small that we spent
the greater part of the day in the neighbouring woods, I arrived at
Bratovchina with my face very red and tanned. When the Empress saw me,
she exclaimed against this redness, and said she would send me a wash to
remove it, and she did so; she immediately sent a phial containing a
liquid composed of lemon-juice, white of egg, and French brandy, and
ordered that my maids should learn its composition, and the proper
proportions of its ingredients. At the end of a few days my sun-burns
had disappeared, and I have since used this composition, and recommended
it to others for similar purposes. When the skin is heated, I do not
know of a better remedy. It is also good for what they call in Russia
Tetters, and which is nothing but a heating of the skin, which causes it
to crack. I cannot at the moment recall the French term for this
complaint.[9]
We spent the Feast of St. Peter at the convent of Troïtza, and as the
Grand Duke could find nothing to do after dinner, he took it into his
head to have a ball in his own room, where, however, his only company
were his two valets and my two maids, one of whom was over fifty. From
the convent her Majesty went to Taïninskoe, while we returned to Rajova,
and resumed our former mode of life. We remained there till the middle
of August, when the Empress made a journey to Sophino, a place situated
at sixty or seventy verstes from Moscow. Here we encamped. On the
morning after our arrival we went to her Majesty's tent, and found her
scolding the person who had the management of this estate. She had come
here to hunt, and found no hares. The man was pale and trembling, and
there was nothing that she did not say to him; she was really furious.
Seeing that we had come to kiss her hand, she embraced us as usual, and
then went on with her scolding, bringing within the sphere of her
remarks every one she felt disposed to find fault with. This was done
gradually, and while speaking with extreme volubility. She said, among
other things, that she perfectly understood the management of land; that
the reign of the Empress Anne had taught her this; that having but
little, she took care to avoid extravagance; that had she gone in debt,
she would have been afraid of being damned: for if she had died in such
a condition no one would have paid her debts, and then her soul would
have gone to hell, and that she had no fancy for; that therefore, when
she was in the house, or not otherwise obliged to make an appearance,
she dressed very simply, her outside dress being of white taffeta and
the under of dark gray, and in this manner she economized, taking good
care not to wear expensive clothes in the country or when travelling.
This, of course, had reference to me, for I wore a dress of silvered
lilac. I took the hint. This dissertation--for such it was, no one
venturing to speak, seeing her flushed with passion--lasted more than
three-quarters of an hour. At last, a fool she had, named Aksakoff, put
a stop to it. He came in carrying a little porcupine, which he presented
to her, in his hat. She advanced to look at it, but the instant she saw
it she uttered a piercing cry, saying that it looked like a mouse, and
ran precipitately into the interior of the tent, for she had a mortal
antipathy to mice. We saw no more of her: she dined alone. After dinner
she went to the chase, took the Grand Duke with her, and ordered me to
return with Madame Tchoglokoff to Moscow, where the Grand Duke arrived
some hours afterwards, the chase having been but brief, in consequence
of the high wind that prevailed that day.
One Sunday the Empress sent for us to join her at Taïninskoe--we were
then at Rajova, whither we had returned--and we had the honour of dining
with her Majesty. She sat alone at the head of the table, the Grand Duke
at her right, I at her left, opposite to him. Near the Grand Duke was
Marshal Boutourline, near me the Countess Schouvaloff. The table was
very long and narrow. Thus seated between the Empress and the Marshal,
the Grand Duke, not a little aided by the Marshal, who was by no means
an enemy to wine himself, managed to get exceedingly intoxicated. He
neither knew what he said or did, stuttered in his speech, and made
himself so very disagreeable, that tears came into my eyes; for at that
time I concealed and palliated as much as possible all that was
reprehensible in him. The Empress was pleased with my sensibility, and
left the table earlier than usual. His Imperial Highness was to have
gone hunting in the afternoon with Count Razoumowsky, but he remained at
Taïninskoe, while I returned to Rajova. On the way I was seized with a
violent toothache. The weather began to be cold and wet, and we were but
badly sheltered at Rajova. The brother of Madame Tchoglokoff, Count
Hendrikoff, who was the chamberlain on duty with me, proposed to his
sister to cure me instantly. She spoke to me on the subject, and I
consented to try his remedy, which seemed to be nothing at all, or
rather a mere charlatanism. He went immediately into the other room, and
brought out a very small roll of paper, which he desired me to chew with
the aching tooth. Hardly had I done so when the pain became so extremely
violent that I was obliged to go to bed. I got into such a burning
fever, that I began to be delirious. Madame Tchoglokoff, terrified at my
condition, and attributing it to her brother's remedy, got very angry
and abused him. She remained at my bedside all the night, sent word to
the Empress that her house at Rajova was in no way fit for a person so
seriously ill as I appeared to be, and in fact made such a stir, that
the next day I was removed to Moscow very ill. I was ten or twelve days
in bed, and the toothache returned every afternoon at the same hour.
At the beginning of September, the Empress went to the convent of
Voskressensky, whither we were ordered to go for the feast of her name.
On that day M. Ivan Ivanovitch Schouvaloff was declared a Gentleman of
the Bedchamber. This was an event at court. Every one whispered that a
new favourite had appeared. I was rejoiced at his promotion, for, while
he was a page, I had marked him out as a person of promise, on account
of his studiousness; he was always to be seen with a book in his hand.
Having returned from this excursion, I was seized with a sore throat
accompanied with much fever. The Empress came to see me during this
illness. When barely convalescent, and while still very weak, her
Majesty ordered me, through Madame Tchoglokoff, to assist at the wedding
and dress the hair of the niece of the Countess Roumianzoff, who was
about to be married to M. Alexander Narichkine, subsequently created
chief cupbearer. Madame Tchoglokoff, who saw that I was scarcely
convalescent, was a little pained in announcing to me this compliment, a
compliment which gave me but little pleasure, as it plainly showed how
little was cared for my health, perhaps even for my life. I spoke in
this view to Madame Vladislava, who seemed, like myself, but little
pleased with this order, an order evidently given without care or
consideration. I exerted myself, however, and on the day fixed the bride
was led to my room. I adorned her head with my diamonds, and she was
then conducted to the court church to be married. As for me, I had to go
to Narichkine House, accompanied by Madame Tchoglokoff and my own court.
Now, we were living at Moscow, in the palace at the end of the German
Sloboda. To reach the residence of the Narichkines it was necessary to
go right through Moscow, and travel at least seven verstes. It was in
the month of October, about nine o'clock at night. It froze excessively
hard, and the ground was so slippery that we had to travel very slowly.
We were at least two hours and a-half in going, and the same in
returning, and there was not a man or horse in my suite that had not one
or more falls. At last having reached the church of Kasansky, which was
near the gate called Troïtzkaja, we met with another impediment, for in
this church was married, at the very same hour, the sister of Ivan
Ivanovitch Schouvaloff. Her hair had been dressed by the Empress
herself, while I dressed that of Mademoiselle Roumianzoff. A great
crowding of carriages occurred at this gate. We had to stop at every
step; then the falls recommenced; not one of the horses had been rough
shod. At last we reached the house, and not in the best humour in the
world. We waited a long time for the bride and bridegroom, who had met
with the same impediments as ourselves. The Grand Duke accompanied the
bride. Then we waited for the Empress. At last we sat down to supper.
After supper, there were a few rounds of dancing in the ante-chamber as
a matter of ceremony, and then we were told to lead the bride and
bridegroom to their apartments. For this purpose we had to pass along
several cold corridors, mount staircases equally cold, and then traverse
long galleries hastily constructed of damp boards, from which the water
oozed in all directions. At last, having reached the apartments, we sat
down to a table spread with a dessert, remaining only long enough to
drink the health of the newly married. Then the bride was led to her
chamber, and we returned home. The next evening we had to repeat our
visit. Would any one have believed it? This turmoil, instead of injuring
my health, did not in the least retard my convalescence. The following
day I was better than the previous one.
At the beginning of winter, I saw that the Grand Duke was very much
disturbed. I did not know what was the matter. He no longer trained his
dogs. He came into my room twenty times a-day, looked anxious,
thoughtful, and absent. He bought German books, and such books! One
portion consisted of Lutheran prayer-books, the other of the history and
trial of some highway robbers who had been hung or broken on the wheel.
These he read by turns when not playing the violin. As he could not long
keep on his mind anything which tormented him, and as he had no one to
speak to but me, I waited patiently for his revelation.
At last he told me what it was that disturbed him, and I found the
matter far more serious than I had anticipated. During the whole summer
pretty nearly, at all events during our stay at Rajova, on the road to
the convent of Troïtza, I scarcely ever saw him, except at table or in
bed. He came to bed after I was asleep, and rose before I was awake. The
rest of his time was passed in hunting or in preparations for it.
Tchoglokoff had obtained, under pretext of amusing the Grand Duke, two
packs of dogs from the Master of the Hounds, the one of Russian dogs and
huntsmen, the other of French or German dogs. To the latter were
attached an old French whipper-in, a lad from Courland, and a German. As
M. Tchoglokoff took the direction of the Russian pack, the Grand Duke
undertook that of the foreign one, about which Tchoglokoff did not in
the least trouble himself. Each entered into the minutest details of his
own charge, and the Grand Duke therefore was constantly going to the
kennel of his pack, or the huntsmen were coming to him to inform him of
its condition, and of the wants and deeds of the dogs. In a word, if I
must speak plainly, he made himself the companion of these men, drinking
with them in the chase, and being constantly among them. The regiment
of Boutirsky was then at Moscow. In this regiment was a lieutenant named
Yakoff Batourine, a man overwhelmed with debt, a gambler, and well known
to be a worthless fellow, but a very determined one. I know not how this
man happened to get acquainted with the Grand Duke's huntsmen, but I
believe both had their quarters in or near the village of Moutistcha or
Alexeewsky. At last matters went on so far, that the huntsmen told the
Duke there was a lieutenant in the regiment of Boutirsky who manifested
a great attachment to his Imperial Highness, and who said, besides, that
the entire regiment entertained the same feelings as himself. The Grand
Duke listened to this recital with complacency, and made inquiries of
the huntsmen relative to this regiment. They spoke very disparagingly of
the superior officers, and very highly of the subalterns. At last
Batourine, still through the huntsmen, asked to be presented to the
Grand Duke, at the chase. To this the Duke was not altogether favourable
at first, but at last he consented. By little and little it was so
managed that the Duke, while hunting one day, met Batourine in a retired
spot. Batourine on seeing him, fell on his knees, and swore to
acknowledge no other master but him, and to do whatever he commanded.
The Grand Duke told me that on hearing this oath he became very much
alarmed, gave both spurs to his horse, and left Batourine on his knees
in the wood. The huntsmen, he said, were in advance, and did not hear
what had been said. He pretended that this was all the connection he had
had with the man, and that he had even advised the huntsmen to take care
that he did not get them into mischief. His present anxiety was
occasioned by his learning from the huntsmen that Batourine had been
arrested and transferred to Preobrajenskoe, where the Secret Chancery,
which took cognizance of crimes against the state, was established. His
Imperial Highness trembled for the huntsmen, and was very much afraid of
being himself compromised. As far as the former were concerned, his
fears were realized; for, a few days afterwards, they were arrested and
conducted to Preobrajenskoe. I endeavoured to diminish his distress by
representing to him, that if he really had not entered into any parley
beyond what he had mentioned, it appeared to me that, at the worst, he
had only been guilty of an imprudence, in mixing himself up with such
bad company. I cannot say whether he told me the truth. I have reason to
believe that he attenuated what there might be of parleying in the
affair, for even to me he spoke about the matter in broken sentences,
and as if unwillingly. However, the excessive fear he was in might also
have produced this same effect upon him. A short time afterwards he came
to tell me that some huntsmen had been set at liberty, but with an order
to be conveyed beyond the frontier, and that they had sent him word that
they had not mentioned his name. This information delighted him beyond
measure; his mind became at ease, and no more was heard of the matter.
As for Batourine, he was found very culpable. I have not since read or
seen the account of his examination, but I have learned that he
meditated nothing less than to kill the Empress, to set fire to the
palace, and in the horror and confusion to place the Grand Duke on the
throne. He was condemned, after being subjected to the torture, to pass
the remainder of his days shut up in the fortress of Schlusselburg.
Having, during my reign, endeavoured to make his escape from this
prison, he was sent to Kamtchatka, whence he fled with Benjousky, and
was killed while pillaging _en passant_ the island of Formosa, in the
Pacific Ocean.
On the 15th of December we left Moscow for St. Petersburg, travelling
night and day in an open sledge. About midway I was again seized with a
violent toothache. Notwithstanding this, the Grand Duke would not
consent to close the sledge: scarcely would he allow me to draw the
curtain a little, so as to shelter me from a cold and damp wind, blowing
right into my face. At last we reached Zarskoe-Selo, where the Empress
had already arrived, having passed us on the road, according to her
usual custom. As soon as I stepped out of the sledge I entered the
apartment destined for us, and sent for her Majesty's physician
Boërhave, the nephew of the celebrated Boërhave, requesting him to have
the tooth which had tormented me so much for the last four or five
months extracted. He consented with great reluctance, and only because I
absolutely insisted on it. At last he sent for Gyon, my surgeon: I sat
on the ground, Boërhave on one side, Tchoglokoff on the other, and Gyon
drew the tooth; but the moment he did so, my eyes, nose, and mouth
became fountains, whence poured out--from my mouth, blood, from my eyes
and nose water. Boërhave, who was a man of clear and sound judgment,
instantly exclaimed, "Clumsy!" and calling for the tooth, he added, "I
feared it would be so, and that was why I did not wish it to be drawn."
Gyon, in extracting the tooth, had carried away with it a portion of the
lower jaw, to which it was attached. At this moment the Empress came to
the door of my room, and I was afterwards told that she was moved even
to tears. I was put to bed, and suffered a great deal during four weeks,
even in the city, whither we went next day, notwithstanding all this,
and still in open sleighs. I did not leave my room till the middle of
January, 1750, for the lower part of my cheek still bore in blue and
yellow stains, the impression of the five fingers of M. Gyon. On
new-year's day this year wishing to have my hair dressed, I noticed that
the young man who was to do it, a Kalmuck whom I had trained for this
purpose, was excessively red, and his eyes very piercing. I asked what
was the matter, and learned that he had a very bad headache and great
heat. I sent him away, desiring him to go to bed, for indeed he was not
fit to do anything. He retired, and in the evening I was informed that
the small-pox had broken out upon him. I escaped with nothing worse than
the fright which this gave me, for I did not catch the disease, although
he had combed my hair.
The Empress remained at Zarskoe-Selo during a considerable portion of
the Carnival. Petersburg was nearly deserted, for most of its residents
lived there from necessity rather than choice. While the court was at
Moscow, and also when on its return to St. Petersburg, all the courtiers
were eager to obtain leave of absence for a year, six months, or even a
few weeks. The officials, such as senators, and others, did the same;
and when they were afraid of not succeeding, then came the illnesses,
real or feigned, of husbands, wives, fathers, brothers, mothers,
sisters, or children; or lawsuits, or other business which it was
indispensable to settle. In a word, it sometimes took six months, or
even more, before the court and the city became what they were
previously to one of these absences; and when the court was away, the
grass grew in the streets of St. Petersburg, for there were scarcely any
carriages in the city. In such a state of things, at the present moment,
there was not much company to be expected, especially by us who were so
much shut up. M. Tchoglokoff thought to amuse us during this time, or
rather to amuse himself and his wife, by inviting us to play at cards
with him in the apartments which he occupied at court, and which
consisted of four or five rather small rooms. He also invited there the
ladies and gentlemen in waiting, and the Princess of Courland, daughter
of Duke Ernest John Biren, the ancient favourite of the Empress Anne.
The Empress Elizabeth had recalled this Duke from Siberia, whither he
had been exiled under the regency of the Princess Anne. There, the Duke
was living with his wife, his sons, and his daughter. This daughter was
neither handsome nor pretty, nor well made, for she was humpbacked, and
rather small; but she had fine eyes, much intelligence, and a singular
talent for intrigue. Her parents were not very fond of her; she
pretended, indeed, that they constantly ill-treated her. One day she
fled from home, and took refuge with the wife of the Waiwode of
Yaroslav, Madame Pouchkine. This woman, delighted to have an opportunity
of giving herself importance at court, took her to Moscow, addressed
herself to Madame Schouvaloff, and the flight of the Princess of
Courland from her father's house was represented as the result of the
ill-treatment she had received from her parents, in consequence of her
having expressed a desire to embrace the religion of the Greek church.
In fact, the first thing she did at court was to make her profession of
faith. The Empress stood godmother for her, after which she received an
appointment among the maids of honour. M. Tchoglokoff made it a point to
show her attention, because her elder brother had laid the foundation of
his fortune, by taking him from the corps of cadets, where he was
receiving his education, removing him into the horse-guards, and keeping
him a
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