Hundreds of skilled craftsmen devoted their labors to carving wood and shaping metal, hundreds more turned out fine china, delicate furniture and objets d'art. The extravagance of Louis XV's courtiers was becoming legendary, and they had outdone themselves in celebrating the dauphin's wedding.
Renewed warfare in Europe threatened to involve Russia but Elizabeth resisted the pleas of her chancellor that she turn her attention from wedding preparations to affairs of state. Emperor Frederick, whose incursions against Austria had begun five years earlier, was once again attacking the territories of the young Empress Maria Theresa and he had captured Prague. Bestuzhev was urging Elizabeth to face the danger to Russia which Frederick's aggression implied, and to send Russian troops to Maria Theresa's aid, but to his infinite frustration she all but ignored the Prussian onslaught. When in May 1745 the armies of Prussia's ally France won a stunning victory over the Austrians and their British allies at Fontenoy, Elizabeth was bemused—but fleetingly. She soon immersed herself in the wedding once again, and let the chancellor do her worrying for her.
The effort to create in Petersburg an opulent and magnificent spectacle akin to that of Versailles led to difficulties. Not all the shipments of goods from the Western capitals arrived on time, workmen were slow, there were not enough seamstresses to cut and stitch the elaborate gowns or embroiderers to sew on the thousands of beads and jewels and seed pearls. No matter how keenly the empress supervised the renovations and repairs to the Winter Palace, the decorating of the cathedral, the plans for the
banquets, balls and other entertainments to be attended by the wedding guests, things went wrong, and there were unavoidable delays. The date of the ceremony had to be changed, not once but twice. And still it was not certain that all the boatloads of foodstuffs arriving from the south would reach the capital in time, or that there would be enough fresh meat for all the guests, or that the actors, singers and dancers hired to put on operas and plays would be ready to take the stage.
All but lost in the maze of arrangements were the future bride and groom. Peter, recovering his strength and his volatile temper, able to abandon his ill-fitting wig as his pale hair grew in once again, had a new obsession: his role as Duke of Holstein. He was emerging from the unwanted tutelage of Brummer, asserting his ducal authority, strutting through his apartments with a look of hauteur and giving orders. A troupe of Holstein soldiers had been sent to him, and he became their drill master, marching the men up and down for hours, making them stand at attention and perform guard duty, lecturing them in his high voice and playing at warfare. He no longer had his valet Roumberg at hand to advise and teach him; the empress had had Roumberg sent away to prison. But his newfound experience of command was teaching him how to govern a wife, and he included Catherine in his military games, instructing her to obey him as his Holsteiners did.
Catherine, miserable and alone, often in tears, followed his orders, outwardly submitting to his newfound authority. She still found it hard to look at him. Though the swelling in his face had gone down, he was marked for life with the scars of the pox, his skin was a mass of slowly healing sores and his small eyes seemed even smaller now behind his pale lashes. Narrow-shouldered, with thin arms and legs and a fleshy belly, Peter was a poor specimen of manhood. Expensive jackets, fine lace and diamond buttons did nothing to improve him, and even in the German uniforms he loved to wear he looked puny and boyish, as if dressed for a role that did not suit him.
To imagine him as a husband must have made Catherine
cringe. Lacking experience, completely innocent of instruction about sex, Catherine brought up the subject of the difference between men and women in the privacy
Renewed warfare in Europe threatened to involve Russia but Elizabeth resisted the pleas of her chancellor that she turn her attention from wedding preparations to affairs of state. Emperor Frederick, whose incursions against Austria had begun five years earlier, was once again attacking the territories of the young Empress Maria Theresa and he had captured Prague. Bestuzhev was urging Elizabeth to face the danger to Russia which Frederick's aggression implied, and to send Russian troops to Maria Theresa's aid, but to his infinite frustration she all but ignored the Prussian onslaught. When in May 1745 the armies of Prussia's ally France won a stunning victory over the Austrians and their British allies at Fontenoy, Elizabeth was bemused—but fleetingly. She soon immersed herself in the wedding once again, and let the chancellor do her worrying for her.
The effort to create in Petersburg an opulent and magnificent spectacle akin to that of Versailles led to difficulties. Not all the shipments of goods from the Western capitals arrived on time, workmen were slow, there were not enough seamstresses to cut and stitch the elaborate gowns or embroiderers to sew on the thousands of beads and jewels and seed pearls. No matter how keenly the empress supervised the renovations and repairs to the Winter Palace, the decorating of the cathedral, the plans for the
banquets, balls and other entertainments to be attended by the wedding guests, things went wrong, and there were unavoidable delays. The date of the ceremony had to be changed, not once but twice. And still it was not certain that all the boatloads of foodstuffs arriving from the south would reach the capital in time, or that there would be enough fresh meat for all the guests, or that the actors, singers and dancers hired to put on operas and plays would be ready to take the stage.
All but lost in the maze of arrangements were the future bride and groom. Peter, recovering his strength and his volatile temper, able to abandon his ill-fitting wig as his pale hair grew in once again, had a new obsession: his role as Duke of Holstein. He was emerging from the unwanted tutelage of Brummer, asserting his ducal authority, strutting through his apartments with a look of hauteur and giving orders. A troupe of Holstein soldiers had been sent to him, and he became their drill master, marching the men up and down for hours, making them stand at attention and perform guard duty, lecturing them in his high voice and playing at warfare. He no longer had his valet Roumberg at hand to advise and teach him; the empress had had Roumberg sent away to prison. But his newfound experience of command was teaching him how to govern a wife, and he included Catherine in his military games, instructing her to obey him as his Holsteiners did.
Catherine, miserable and alone, often in tears, followed his orders, outwardly submitting to his newfound authority. She still found it hard to look at him. Though the swelling in his face had gone down, he was marked for life with the scars of the pox, his skin was a mass of slowly healing sores and his small eyes seemed even smaller now behind his pale lashes. Narrow-shouldered, with thin arms and legs and a fleshy belly, Peter was a poor specimen of manhood. Expensive jackets, fine lace and diamond buttons did nothing to improve him, and even in the German uniforms he loved to wear he looked puny and boyish, as if dressed for a role that did not suit him.
To imagine him as a husband must have made Catherine
cringe. Lacking experience, completely innocent of instruction about sex, Catherine brought up the subject of the difference between men and women in the privacy
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