What was so great about Catherine?
The Russian empress remains fascinating not because she attempted sex with a horse, but for expanding her empire, squashing her enemies and acting like, well, a man.
By Laura Miller
Read more: Books, Women, Russia, Laura Miller, History, Reviews, Book reviews, Biographies
Feb. 13, 2007 | "The real Catherine," reads the flap copy on "Catherine the Great: Love, Sex and Power," Virginia Rounding's new biography of the Russian empress, "was more interesting than any rumor." This seems a pretty tall order, since the only rumor most people know concerning Catherine the Great is that she died while attempting to have sex with a horse. The slightly better-informed might also be dimly aware that she is the monarch for whom "Potemkin villages" -- false fronts designed to present the appearance of thriving towns where none actually existed -- were supposedly built along the road to Crimea. It turns out that neither of these legends is true, and while reality can hardly hope to compete with such yarns when it comes to sheer sensationalism, the stories raise a provocative question: Why did people tell them in the first place?
"Catherine the Great" will surely turn up on the display table at my neighborhood bookstore, which is already more than half-occupied by biographies of European queens, princesses and other aristocratic ladies. Women who may have achieved little politically during their actual lives -- such as Lady Jane Grey, the subject of a new biographical novel by Alison Weir, "Innocent Traitor," to name just one -- have managed to conquer significant chunks of retail real estate after their deaths. The ideal subject for these "princess books" is Anne Boleyn, the indirect subject of Philippa Gregory's very successful historical novel "The Other Boleyn Girl," which is told from the point of view of Anne's sister, Mary, who preceded Anne as a mistress of England's Henry VIII. The heroine of a princess book ought to be beautiful and spirited, so much so that she's awarded with a crown (and many scrumptious gowns). But most important, she must meet a tragic end in order to demonstrate the principle that, for women, power and happiness do not mix.
If that sounds familiar, no wonder: The fabulous popularity of Princess Diana was largely due to how well her life fit this preexisting formula. The more persuasively the princess (or queen or duchess -- see Amanda Foreman's bestselling biography, "Georgiana: Duchess of Devonshire") can be cast as a victim, the more she mesmerizes the public. What, otherwise, explains the ongoing fascination with Lady Jane Grey, who was maneuvered onto the throne by her parents and ruled for only nine days before being usurped and executed by her cousin Mary at the age of 16?
Catherine II of Russia, who reigned for 34 years, kept a series of young lovers (a few of whom became her closest advisors), coolly eliminated at least one pretender to the throne and died at the ripe age of 67, does not fit this mold, which may explain why there are few bestselling novels about her. Yet Catherine was a remarkable ruler, who greatly expanded the power and prestige of Russia, achieved many internal reforms (without challenging the deeper inequities of her society), instituted free public education and, perhaps most impressive of all, survived for decades in charge of the conspiracy-ridden world of imperial Russian politics. She corresponded with Voltaire and Diderot, acquired most of the artworks that make the Hermitage one of the world's great museums and constructed many of the grandest buildings in St. Petersburg.
Rounding dedicates herself to redeeming Catherine from the infamous "horse story" and other calumnies, and as a result tends to play down the caprice and extravagance of the Russian court. Still, "Catherine the Great" abounds in at least one of the requirements of royal biographies: detailed descriptions of the lavish ceremonies and sumptuous trappings of royal life. There's lots and lots of jewelry here; the principal players are forever exchanging emerald-encrusted hunting knives and diamond-covered fans (as well large quantities of tea and, mystifyingly, rhubarb). To celebrate the birth of her grandson, Alexander, Catherine threw a party at which the guests strolled under a pair of 2-foot-high letter A's made of diamonds and played the card game macao using diamonds for gambling chips.
Likewise, when the empress traveled, it was usually with a gigantic retinue: hundreds of horses, squadrons of soldiers, dozens of courtiers and countless servants -- including, in one instance, a "preserve-maker" and "a man to make the coffee." Rounding favors her readers with a few too many inventories of these processions, but even readers with little taste for "lifestyles of rich and aristocratic" voyeurism may find themselves a bit dazzled by a Cleopatrian fleet of "gold and scarlet galleys," each with its own orchestra, and a coach, pulled by 30 horses, containing "a bedroom, sitting room, office and library."
Yet for all this luxury, Catherine's daily life -- especially her first years in Russia, when she was merely the grand duchess, married to the Empress Elizabeth's nephew and heir, Peter -- could be pretty uncomfortable. Russia, viewed as a barbaric, if wealthy, cultural backwater by the rest of Europe, was under construction. Wolves and bears still roamed the streets of St. Petersburg and sometimes the imperial party had to live in tents while their mansions were being hastily built. One house the grand duke and duchess stayed in collapsed in the middle of the night, almost crushing them, and in another "water flowed down the paneling" every time it rained. Yet another burned to the ground, and Catherine described witnessing "an astonishing number of mice and rats coming down the staircase in single file, without even bothering to hurry."
Born to a minor princeling in Anhalt-Zerbst, one of the confusingly numerous and fairly insignificant states that would later join to become Germany, Catherine was not Russian. The Empress Elizabeth (illegitimate daughter of Peter the Great) had won approval in part for minimizing German influence in the government, but she had no children of her own and Elizabeth's chosen heir, Peter, was also German, with strong and unpopular Prussian inclinations. He cut an unimpressive figure, though Catherine always claimed that she could have loved him if he had at least tried to be agreeable. Instead, he loved puppets (he filled the marital bed with dolls and insisted on playing with them when Catherine wanted to sleep) and was obsessed with military regalia and exercises, a hobby that amounted to the model-train enthusiasm of his time and class.
Life for the newlyweds under Tsarina Elizabeth was a sometimes hilarious inversion of a contemporary adolescent's situation. The grand duke and duchess preferred to play with toys (him) and giggle with friends (her), while the grown-ups were forever trying to get them to have sex. They were forced, usually against their inclinations, to sleep in the same bed every night, and still no heir. Peter was apparently unclear on the procedure involved (although he was already in his late teens) and the widow of a court painter had to be called in to give him a little training. Even then, he was "immature," and Catherine hinted around that her only legitimate son, Paul, was actually fathered by one of her lovers. Rounding, like most historians, thinks not, noting that Paul strongly resembled Peter and seems to have inherited the grand duke's passion for military uniforms and marching soldiers in formation.
Next page: Catherine had an extraordinary weakness for young men, but they never kept her from her work
