several times, so that I and everybody else remained far behind and had to stop the ceremony until everybody had caught up with the hearse. Criticism of the Emperor’s outrageous behavior spread rapidly and his unsuitable deportment was the subject of much talk.”
Soon enough, talk would turn into action, and Peter III would no longer be laughing. His wife made certain of that.
In the annals of rotten royal marriages, of which there were legion, that of Peter and Catherine would surely rank among the most miserable. Although both spouses—second cousins—were born in Germany and imported to Russia as teenagers, that’s about all they had in common. He was a sniveling, underdeveloped nincompoop—even if his worst qualities may have been a bit exaggerated by Catherine in her Memoirs * 1 —while she was an avid student of the Enlightenment, with ambitions that extended far beyond her designated role as a royal baby breeder. It was a toxic pairing that would end triumphantly for one and rather grimly for the other.
Peter came to the marriage with quite a few deficits, not the least of which was the brutal upbringing that warped him immeasurably. His mother, Peter the Great’s elder daughter Anne, died just three months after giving birth to him, and his father, Charles Frederick, Duke of Holstein, showed very little interest in the boy before dying himself when Peter was eleven. Deprived of any parental love or affection, the young prince was raised instead by a borderline sadist, Otto Brümmer, who terrorized the small, sickly child. Whenever Peter failed in his studies or any other task, which was often enough, Brümmer was quick to humiliate him by making him wear the picture of an ass around his neck, or depriving him of food, or applying one of his favorite methods of torture, which was to make the boy kneel for hours on hard dried peas. The inevitable product of this hideous regime was an emotionally stunted, deceitful boy with a lifelong aversion to learning and a penchant for torturing animals.
Already damaged beyond repair, Peter was fourteen when his aunt, Empress Elizabeth, beckoned him to Russia in 1742 to become her adopted heir. As she quickly discovered, he was not a promising choice. Scrawny, with protuberant eyes and no chin, Peter was, alas, as dumb as he looked. Appalled by her nephew’s ignorance, Elizabeth promptly retained Professor Jacob von Staehlin of the Imperial Academy of Sciences to tutor him. “I see that Your Highness has still a great many pretty things to learn,” she gently said to Peter, “and Monsieur Staehlin here will teach them to you in such a pleasant manner that it will be a mere pastime for you.”
But it was no use. Peter was “utterly frivolous” and “altogether unruly,” Staehlin reported. He also steadfastly refused to become Russianized, disdaining the language and customs of the country he was destined to rule. Upon his grudgingconversion from Lutheranism to Orthodoxy, Elizabeth raised her nephew to the rank of Imperial Highness and granted him the title of grand duke. She also made him a lieutenant colonel in the elite Preobrazhensky Guards, founded by his grandfather, Peter the Great. None of this made a bit of difference, however. Young Peter’s heart was in Holstein and there it would remain. The best the empress could hope for was that her nephew would produce an heir to carry on the Romanov dynasty. And for the unenviable task of mating with him, she brought to Russia Peter’s German cousin—the future Catherine the Great.
She was born Sophia Augusta Fredericka, the daughter of Prince Christian Augustus, ruler of the tiny German duchy of Anhalt-Zerbst, and his socially ambitious wife, Princess Johanna Elizabeth of Holstein-Gottorp. Sophia wasn’t warmly welcomed into the world on May 2, 1729—at least by her mother, who made no effort to disguise her epic disappointment that the little princess wasn’t the son she wanted and expected after a
Soon enough, talk would turn into action, and Peter III would no longer be laughing. His wife made certain of that.
In the annals of rotten royal marriages, of which there were legion, that of Peter and Catherine would surely rank among the most miserable. Although both spouses—second cousins—were born in Germany and imported to Russia as teenagers, that’s about all they had in common. He was a sniveling, underdeveloped nincompoop—even if his worst qualities may have been a bit exaggerated by Catherine in her Memoirs * 1 —while she was an avid student of the Enlightenment, with ambitions that extended far beyond her designated role as a royal baby breeder. It was a toxic pairing that would end triumphantly for one and rather grimly for the other.
Peter came to the marriage with quite a few deficits, not the least of which was the brutal upbringing that warped him immeasurably. His mother, Peter the Great’s elder daughter Anne, died just three months after giving birth to him, and his father, Charles Frederick, Duke of Holstein, showed very little interest in the boy before dying himself when Peter was eleven. Deprived of any parental love or affection, the young prince was raised instead by a borderline sadist, Otto Brümmer, who terrorized the small, sickly child. Whenever Peter failed in his studies or any other task, which was often enough, Brümmer was quick to humiliate him by making him wear the picture of an ass around his neck, or depriving him of food, or applying one of his favorite methods of torture, which was to make the boy kneel for hours on hard dried peas. The inevitable product of this hideous regime was an emotionally stunted, deceitful boy with a lifelong aversion to learning and a penchant for torturing animals.
Already damaged beyond repair, Peter was fourteen when his aunt, Empress Elizabeth, beckoned him to Russia in 1742 to become her adopted heir. As she quickly discovered, he was not a promising choice. Scrawny, with protuberant eyes and no chin, Peter was, alas, as dumb as he looked. Appalled by her nephew’s ignorance, Elizabeth promptly retained Professor Jacob von Staehlin of the Imperial Academy of Sciences to tutor him. “I see that Your Highness has still a great many pretty things to learn,” she gently said to Peter, “and Monsieur Staehlin here will teach them to you in such a pleasant manner that it will be a mere pastime for you.”
But it was no use. Peter was “utterly frivolous” and “altogether unruly,” Staehlin reported. He also steadfastly refused to become Russianized, disdaining the language and customs of the country he was destined to rule. Upon his grudgingconversion from Lutheranism to Orthodoxy, Elizabeth raised her nephew to the rank of Imperial Highness and granted him the title of grand duke. She also made him a lieutenant colonel in the elite Preobrazhensky Guards, founded by his grandfather, Peter the Great. None of this made a bit of difference, however. Young Peter’s heart was in Holstein and there it would remain. The best the empress could hope for was that her nephew would produce an heir to carry on the Romanov dynasty. And for the unenviable task of mating with him, she brought to Russia Peter’s German cousin—the future Catherine the Great.
She was born Sophia Augusta Fredericka, the daughter of Prince Christian Augustus, ruler of the tiny German duchy of Anhalt-Zerbst, and his socially ambitious wife, Princess Johanna Elizabeth of Holstein-Gottorp. Sophia wasn’t warmly welcomed into the world on May 2, 1729—at least by her mother, who made no effort to disguise her epic disappointment that the little princess wasn’t the son she wanted and expected after a
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