The Memoirs of Catherine the Great

by Catherine the Great

  In the month of February, I had signs of pregnancy. On Easter Day itself, during mass, Choglokov fell ill with dry colic. He was given many medicines, but his illness only worsened. During Easter week the Grand Duke went riding with the gentlemen of our court. Sergei Saltykov was among them. I stayed at the house because they feared letting me out given my state and because I had already had two miscarriages. I was alone in my room when Choglokov asked me to come into his. I went there and found him in bed. He made a thousand complaints to me about his wife, told me that she was seeing Prince Repnin, who went to her house on foot, that during carnival, he had gone there during a court ball dressed as a Harlequin, and that Kamynin had had him followed. In the end, God knows all the details he told me. At the moment he was most worked up, his wife arrived. He launched into a thousand reproaches against her in my presence, saying that she was abandoning him in his illness. They were very suspicious and narrow-minded people. I was dying of fear that the wife would believe it was I who had betrayed her in many of the details that he recounted about her trysts. The wife told him that it would not be strange if she punished him for his conduct toward her, that, at least, neither he nor anyone else could reproach her for having failed him up until now in any way, and she finished by saying that it was unbecoming of him to complain. Both of them continually appealed to me as judge and arbiter of what they were saying. I was silent out of fear of offending one or the other or both, or of being compromised; my face flushed with anxiety. I was alone with them.

  At the height of the dispute, Madame Vladislavova came to tell me that the Empress had come to my apartment. I ran there immediately, and Madame Choglokova left with me, but instead of following me she stopped in a corridor where there was a staircase that led into the garden, where she sat down, according to what I was later told. I entered my room completely out of breath and indeed I found the Empress there. As she saw me out of breath and a bit flushed, she asked me where I had been. I told her that I was coming from the apartment of Choglokov, who was sick, and that I had hurried back as quickly as possible, having learned that she had deigned to come to my apartment. She did not ask me any more questions, but it seemed to me that she was considering what I was saying and that it seemed odd to her. Nevertheless, she continued to speak with me. She did not ask where the Grand Duke was, because she knew he had gone out. During the Empress’s entire reign, neither he nor I dared go into the city nor out of the house without sending to ask her permission. Madame Vladislavova was in my room. The Empress addressed her several times and then me, speaking of indifferent matters; then she left after about half an hour, telling me that because of my pregnancy, she excused me from appearing in public on April 21 and 25. I was surprised that Madame Choglokova had not followed me. When the Empress had gone, I asked Madame Vladislavova what had become of her. She told me that she had sat down on the stairs, where she had wept. As soon as the Grand Duke returned, I recounted to Sergei Saltykov what had happened to me during their ride, how Choglokov had sent for me, what had been said between husband and wife, my apprehension, and the Empress’s visit. Then he said, “If this is the case, I think that the Empress came to see what you do in your husband’s absence and to make sure that you were completely alone in both your apartment and Choglokov’s. Since we are covered in mud from head to toe, I am going to take all of my comrades to Ivan Shuvalov’s house.” The Grand Duke having already retired, Sergei Saltykov went with all who had gone riding with the Grand Duke to the home of Ivan Shuvalov, who resided at the court. When they arrived there, Shuvalov asked for details about their ride, and Sergei Saltykov later told me that from his questions it appeared that he had not been mistaken.

  Thereafter, Choglokov’s illness only worsened. By April 21, my birthday, the doctors had lost all hope for his recovery. The Empress was informed, and as was her custom, she ordered the sick man transported to his own house so that he would not die at court, because she was afraid of the dead. I was very distressed as soon as I learned of Monsieur Choglokov’s state. He was dying just when, after several years of trouble and effort, we had succeeded in making him not only less mean and wicked, but also tractable. One could even dominate him if one studied his character. As for his wife, she sincerely loved me at the time, and she had changed from a harsh and malevolent Argus into a staunch, devoted friend. Choglokov lived on in his house until April 25, the day of the Empress’s coronation, when he died in the afternoon. I was immediately informed, as I sent for information almost every hour. I was truly grieved and I cried a great deal. His wife was also sick in bed during the last days of her husband’s illness. He was on one side of the house, she on the other. Sergei Saltykov and Lev Naryshkin were in the wife’s room at the moment of the husband’s death. The windows of the room were open. A bird flew in and landed on the ceiling cornice opposite Madame Choglokova’s bed. Seeing this, she said, “I am convinced that my husband has just given up the ghost. Find out if this is so.” Someone came to say that he was indeed dead. She said that this bird was the soul of her husband. They wanted to prove to her that this was an ordinary bird, but could not find it again. She was told that it had flown away, but since no one had seen it, she remained convinced that it was her husband’s soul come to find her. As soon as Monsieur Choglokov’s funeral was over, Madame Choglokova wanted to come to my apartment. Seeing her cross the long bridge over the Yauza, the Empress sent someone to tell her that she excused her from her duties in my service and that she should return to the house. Her Imperial Majesty found it improper that a widow should go out so soon.

  That same day, she named Monsieur Alexander Ivanovich Shuvalov to take up the late Monsieur Choglokov’s duties in the Grand Duke’s service. Now Monsieur Alexander Shuvalov was the terror of the court, the city, and the whole empire, not because of who he was but because of the position he occupied. He was head of the tribunal for crimes against the state, which was then called the Secret Chancery. His duties, it was said, had given him a sort of convulsive movement, which seized the entire right side of his face from the eye to the base of his jaw each time he was affected by joy, anger, fear, or apprehension. It was astonishing that one could have chosen to place a man with such a hideous grimace in the constant presence of a pregnant young woman. If I had given birth to a child who had this unfortunate tic, I think the Empress would have been very upset. Yet this could have happened, as I saw him all the time, never willingly and most of the time with an involuntary wave of repugnance because his servants, his relatives, and his office, as one might well suspect, could not increase the pleasure of his company. But this was only the beginning of the joys that were in store for us and principally for me.

  The following day I was told that the Empress was once again going to place Countess Rumiantseva in my service. I knew that she was the sworn enemy of Sergei Saltykov, that she hardly liked Princess Gagarina any better, and that she had done much to harm my mother in the Empress’s opinion. When I learned this, I lost all patience. I began to cry bitterly and I said to Count Alexander Shuvalov that if Countess Rumiantseva were placed with me, I would regard this as a very great misfortune, that in the past this woman had wronged my mother, that she had blackened her in the Empress’s mind, and that at present she would do the same to me, that she had been feared like the plague when she had been at our residence, and that this arrangement would make many people unhappy if he did not find a way to avert it. He promised to work on this and tried to calm me, fearing above all for my condition. In fact, he went to the Empress’s residence, and when he returned, he told me that he hoped that the Empress would not place Countess Rumiantseva with me. Indeed, I heard no more talk of this, and from then on we were occupied only with the departure for Petersburg.

  It was decided that we would journey for twenty-nine days. In other words, we would do only one relay per day. I was scared to death that Sergei Saltykov and Lev Naryshkin would be left in Moscow, but I do not know how it happened that the Empress deigned to place them in
our entourage. Finally we left on May 10 or 11 from the Moscow palace. I was in a carriage with Count Alexander Shuvalov’s wife, a conceited woman who was the dullest thing imaginable, Madame Vladislavova, and the midwife, whom it was claimed we could not do without, because I was pregnant. I was bored to death in the carriage and did nothing but cry. Finally Princess Gagarina—who personally did not like Countess Shuvalova, because the Countess’s daughter, who was married to Golovkin, the Princess’s cousin, was insufficiently considerate toward her husband’s family—found a moment when she could approach me to say that she was trying to make Madame Vladislavova well disposed toward me, because she and everyone else feared that the melancholy I felt due to my situation would harm both me and the child I was carrying. As for Sergei Saltykov, he dared not come anywhere near me because of the oppressive and continual presence of the Shuvalovs, husband and wife. In fact, Princess Gagarina succeeded in making Madame Vladislavova see reason. She deigned to alleviate somewhat the state of discomfort and perpetual oppressiveness that was the true source of this melancholy, which it was no longer in my power to master. It required so little effort, only a few moments of conversation; in the end she succeeded.

  After twenty-nine days of such tedious travel, we arrived in Petersburg at the Summer Palace. There the Grand Duke immediately reinstated his concerts. This gave me some opportunity for conversation, but my melancholy had become such that at every moment and with every remark, I had tears in my eyes and a thousand worries passed through my head. In a word, I could not rid my mind of the thought that everything pointed to Sergei Saltykov’s removal. We went to Peterhof. There I walked a lot, but despite this my worries followed at my heels.

  In the month of August, we again returned to the city to reside in the Summer Palace. For me it was an almost mortal blow when I learned that the apartment being prepared for my confinement connected to and was part of the Empress’s. Alexander Shuvalov took me to see it. I found two rooms like all those in the Summer Palace: sad, with only one exit, poorly decorated with crimson damask, and with almost no furniture or any kind of comfort. I saw that I would be isolated there without any company, very unhappy and absolutely alone. I told Sergei Saltykov and Princess Gagarina, who, although they did not like each other, nevertheless had their friendship for me in common. They saw what I saw, but it was impossible to remedy the situation. On Wednesday I was supposed to move into this apartment, which was very far from the Grand Duke’s. I went to bed Tuesday evening and awoke in the night with pains. I awakened Madame Vladislavova, who sent for the midwife, who confirmed that I was going into labor. The Grand Duke, who was sleeping in his room, was awakened, as was Count Alexander Shuvalov. At around two in the morning, he sent to the Empress’s residence, and she did not delay in coming. I was in a very bad way. Finally, toward noon of the following day, September 20, I bore a son.102 As soon as he was swaddled, the Empress had her confessor come in and he gave the child the name Paul, after which the Empress immediately had the child taken by the midwife and told the midwife to follow her. I stayed on my sickbed. Now, this bed was placed opposite a door through which I could see daylight. Behind me there were two large windows that closed poorly, and to the right and left of this bed, two doors, one of which opened onto my dressing room and the other onto that occupied by Madame Vladislavova. As soon as the Empress had left, the Grand Duke also went his way, as well as Monsieur and Madame Shuvalov, and I did not see anyone again until the stroke of three. I had perspired a great deal. I asked Madame Vladislavova to change my linen and put me to bed. She told me that she did not dare. Several times she sent someone to look for the midwife, but she did not come. I asked to drink, but again I received the same response. Finally, after three hours, Countess Shuvalova arrived in all her finery. When she saw me still lying in the same place where she had left me, she exclaimed that this could kill me. This was a great consolation for me, as I had already been in tears from the moment I gave birth, especially because of the negligent way in which I had been poorly and uncomfortably put to bed after a difficult and painful labor, between doors and windows that closed poorly, with no one daring to carry me to my bed, which was two steps away, and I had not the strength to drag myself to it. Madame Shuvalova left immediately, and I think that she sent for the midwife, because she came a half hour later and told us that the Empress was so occupied with the child that she had not let her go for a single moment.103 No one had a thought about me. I was hardly flattered by this forgetfulness and neglect. Meanwhile I was dying of fatigue and thirst. Finally I was put in my bed and I did not see a living soul the whole day, nor was anyone even sent to find out how I was. For his part, His Imperial Highness did nothing but drink with those whom he found around him, and the Empress busied herself with the child. In the city and in the empire, the joy over this event was great.

  On the following day I began to feel an unbearable, rheumatic pain from the hip down along the thigh of my left leg. This pain kept me from sleeping, and I also came down with a high fever. Despite this, on the following day the consideration shown to me was about the same. I saw no one, and no one asked for news of me. However, the Grand Duke did come into my room for a moment and then left, saying that he did not have the time to stay. I did nothing but cry and moan in my bed, and only Madame Vladislavova was with me in my room. Deep down she felt sympathy for me but could not remedy the situation. Moreover I did not like to be pitied, nor to complain. I had too proud a soul, and the very idea of being unhappy was intolerable to me. Until now I had done everything I could not to appear so. I could have seen Alexander Shuvalov and his wife, but they were such insipid and boring creatures that I was always delighted when they were not there.

  On the third day, someone came on behalf of the Empress to ask Madame Vladislavova if a blue satin cape that Her Imperial Majesty had worn the day that I gave birth, because it had been very cold in my room, had not been left behind in my apartment. Madame Vladislavova searched everywhere for this cape and finally found it in a corner of my dressing room, where it had not been noticed, because since my confinement few had entered this room. Having found it, she sent it back immediately. This cape, as we learned a little later, had given rise to a rather unusual incident. The Empress had no fixed hour for either going to bed, waking up, having dinner or supper, or dressing. One afternoon during the three days in question, she lay down on a sofa, where she had had a mattress and cushions placed. Lying down, she asked for this cape because she was cold. They looked everywhere and did not find it, because it had been left in my room. Then the Empress ordered them to look under the cushions at the head of her bed, believing that they would find it there. The sister of Madame Kruse, the Empress’s favorite lady-in-waiting, passed her hand under Her Imperial Majesty’s headboard and withdrew it, saying that the cape was not under the headboard but that there was a packet with hair or something like it. She did not know what it was. The Empress immediately got up, had the mattress and the cushions removed, and to their surprise, they saw a piece of paper in which some hairs were twisted around a few vegetable roots. The Empress’s ladies and she herself said that these were surely charms or amulets, and they all speculated about what this could mean, and who could have had the audacity to place this packet under the Empress’s headboard. One of the ladies whom Her Imperial Majesty liked best was suspected. She was known by the name of Anna Dmitrievna Domasheva, but not long before, this woman, having become a widow, had gotten remarried to one of the Empress’s chamber valets. The Shuvalovs did not like this woman, who opposed them, because thanks to her merit and the Empress’s trust, which she had enjoyed since her youth, she was quite capable of devising schemes to greatly diminish the Shuvalovs’ favor. As the Shuvalovs did not lack allies, they too began to view the affair as a criminal act. The Empress herself was quite receptive to this view because she believed in charms and amulets. Consequently she ordered Count Alexander Shuvalov to arrest this woman, her husband, and her two sons, one of whom was an office
r in the guards, the other a chamber page for the Empress. Two days after being arrested, the husband asked for a razor to shave his beard, and he cut his throat with it. As for the wife and children, they were under arrest for a long time, and she confessed that she had used these charms so that the Empress’s favor toward her would continue, and that she had put a few grains of salt burned on Holy Thursday in a glass of Hungarian wine that she had presented to the Empress. This affair ended with the exile of the woman and her children to Moscow. Afterward, the rumor was circulated that a fainting spell, which the Empress had had shortly before my confinement, was the result of these drinks that the woman had given her. But the fact is that she had never given her more than two or three grains of salt burned on Holy Thursday, which certainly could not harm the Empress. In this matter, only this woman’s audacity and superstition were reprehensible.

  Eventually the Grand Duke, who in the evening was bored without my maids of honor, toward whom he made advances, came to suggest spending evenings in my bedroom, whereupon he courted the absolutely ugliest of my ladies; she was Countess Elizabeth Vorontsova. On the sixth day, my son’s baptism took place; he had already almost died of thrush. I could get news of him only furtively because asking after him would have been seen as a lack of faith in the Empress’s care for him and would have been very badly received. Indeed, she had taken him into her room, and as soon as he would cry, she would run to him herself, and he was literally smothered by her care. He was kept in an extremely hot room, swaddled in flannel, and laid in a crib lined with black fox fur. He was covered with a satin quilt lined with cotton wadding, and over this was placed another of pink velvet lined with black fox. Later I myself saw him lying like this many times, sweat pouring from his face and whole body, the result being that when he was older the slightest draft chilled him and made him ill. Moreover, he was surrounded by a great number of old matrons, who thanks to their misguided care and lack of common sense inflicted infinitely more physical and mental harm than good.