Clutching the last hope that was offered, Catherine, disap-
< 22 >
pointed by Louis XV, decided to try for the Duke of Charolais.
This time, she thought, no one could accuse them of aiming too
high. Informed of this haggling, Elizabeth’s pride was hurt and
she begged her mother to give up her ill-considered ambitions,
which dishonored them both. However, Catherine claimed to
know better than anyone else what would be good for her daugh-
ter. Although she believed she was finally betting on a winning
horse, she suddenly ran into an even more humiliating refusal.
“Monseigneur is pledged to another,” declared Campredon, with
pained courtesy. The ambassador was truly distressed by the se-
ries of affronts that he was charged with inflicting upon the em-
press. The court of Russia was becoming unbearable to him. He
was ready to leave his post. But his minister, the Count de Mor-
ville, enjoined him to remain in place, warding off, on the one
hand, debates over Elizabeth’s marriage prospects and, on the
other hand, any attempt to bring together St. Petersburg with Vienna.
This double responsibility worried the prudent Campredon. He
no longer understood his country’s erratic political course. Learn-
ing that Catherine had invited the High Council to break off rela-
tions with France, which clearly wanted nothing to do with her,
and to prepare an offensive and defensive alliance with Austria
(which was disposed to help Russia, come what may), the diplo-
mat — disappointed, cheated, and sick at heart — demanded his
passports and on March 31, 1726, left the banks of the Neva, never
more to return.
After his departure, Catherine felt like someone who has
been misled in a youthful love affair. France, whom she adored so
much, had rejected her and betrayed her for another. It was not
her daughter who had been spurned, it was she, with her scepter,
her crown, her army, the glorious history of her fatherland and her
disproportionate hopes. Wounded to the quick, she sent a repre-
sentative to Vienna with the charge to negotiate the alliance that
< 23 >
she had so often refused. From now on, Europe would be divided
into two camps: Russia, Austria and Spain on one side; France,
England, Holland and Prussia on the other. . . Certainly, the lines
might shift and influences might be felt across the borders, but,
overall, in Catherine’s eyes, the map was now drawn for the years
to come.
Amidst all this diplomatic intrigue, her advisers clashed,
making proposals and counter-proposals, haggling, arguing and
reconciling. Since joining the Supreme Privy Council, Duke
Charles Frederick of Holstein had distinguished himself by the
boldness of his demands. His need to regain possession of the ter-
ritories that once belonged to his family had turned into an obses-
sion. He viewed all the history of the globe through that of the
tiny duchy that he claimed was still his prerogative. Aggravated
by his continual claims, Catherine finally made an official request
to the King of Denmark to return Schleswig to her son-in-law, the
Grand Duke of Holstein-Gottorp. Encountering a categorical re-
fusal on behalf of the Danish sovereign, Frederick IV, she called
upon the friendship of Austria and obtained its support for the
gadfly Charles Frederick’s claims to that parcel of land that, so
recently, had been part of his heritage and that he so shamefully
had been deprived of by the treaties of Stockholm and Frederiks-
borg. England then weighed in, making this imbroglio all the
more delicate.
The more vexing these knotty foreign affairs issues became,
the more the tsarina resorted to her favorite solace, drink. But, far
from relieving her torment, the excesses at the table began to un-
dermine her health. She stayed up partying until nine o’clock in
the morning and collapsed, drunk dead, on her bed, in the arms of
a partner whom she hardly recognized. The reverberations of this
disorderly existence dismayed her entourage. The courtiers began
to murmur among themselves, predicting the destruction of the
< 24 >
monarchy.
As if the sempiternal gossip were not enough to poison the
atmosphere at the palace, now people began talking again about
that imp of a grandson of Peter the Great, whom they insisted had
been wrongfully shunted aside. Issue of the unfortunate Alexis,
who had paid with his life for having the audacity to oppose the
policies of “The Reformer,” he was staggered to learn that his
name had cropped up in the debates over the succession. The in-
nocent’s adversaries maintained that he must share the paternal
forfeiture and that he was permanently excluded from the pre-
rogatives of the dynasty. But others claimed that his rights to the
crown were inalienable and that he was very much in a position to
mount the throne. . . under the tutelage of his close relations. His