A Compartive Study of the Reigns of Catherine the Great and Marie

FEMININE WILES AND AUTHORITY: A COMPARATIVE STUDY

OF THE REIGNS OF CATHERINE THE GREAT

AND MARIE ANTOINETTE

______

A Thesis

Presented

to the Faculty of

California State University Dominguez Hills

______

In Partial Fulfillment

of the Requirements for the Degree

Master of Arts

Humanities

______

Jodi Patel

Spring 2018

JODI ELLEN PATEL

2018

This thesis is dedicated to my husband Jayendra B. Patel, who supported me in pursuit of my studies as I further divided my attention away from our marriage; and to my children,

Richard G., Joseph S., Michael F., and David A. Guistolise, who also sacrificed their rights to my time and attention. I would also like to dedicate this work to Lou Rodriguez, my junior high history teacher who first ignited my love of history and to Dr. Tom Kelly,

who inspired me to study history at the graduate level. Finally, I would like to dedicate this work to Cheryl Hague, who mentored me through my B.A. and whose remarks about

writing her own thesis kept me (mostly) sane while I wrote mine.

iii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am truly grateful for the guidance and encouragement my mentor Dr. Howard Holter gave me both during my time in his class and while I wrote my thesis. I only regret that life did not permit me to meet and work with him when I was younger. His academic work—to the extent I am familiar with it—would have been a template I would have joyously followed had I benefited from his mentorship earlier in life. I also wish to thank Dr. Patricia Cherin for her encouraging remarks and sharp eye.

Lastly, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to all those professors who designed and shaped the HUX program. This program was everything I had hoped to find in a graduate program, and I stand in awe at the vision of those who created it. I only wish I could have taken every course offered in the original program. Thank you for guiding my intellectual growth and curiosity.

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

DEDICATION ...... iii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS ...... v

ABSTRACT ...... viii

CHAPTER

1. INTRODUCTION...... 1

2. REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE ...... 4

3. CONTEXTUAL CONSIDERATIONS ...... 13

Russian Context ...... 13 French Context ...... 15

4. EARLY LIVES OF THE SUBJECTS ...... 18

Catherine’s Early Years ...... 18 Marie Antoinette’s Early Years ...... 22

5. ROYAL MARRIAGES AND TRANSITIONS ...... 27

Sophia Becomes Catherine ...... 27 Marie Antoinette Becomes Marie Antoinette ...... 31

6. SEXUAL POLITICS AND POWER...... 37

Catherine’s Lovers and Political Success ...... 37 Sexual Awkwardness in France ...... 40

7. INTERLUDE: THE ENLIGHTENMENT AND THE PAMPHLETEERS ...... 43

CHAPTER PAGE

8. THE POWER OF PUBLIC OPINION ...... 51 Peter’s Iconoclasm and Catherine’s Iconography ...... 51 Marie Antoinette as Profaned Icon ...... 57

9. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS ...... 61

WORKS CITED ...... 67

vi ABSTRACT

Catherine the Great and Marie Antoinette were near contemporaries, and they faced many similar challenges in their respective positions. At first glance, one would expect Marie Antoinette to have been more successful: she was the daughter of Maria

Theresa of Austria while Catherine was an obscure German princess. However, Catherine became Catherine the Great while Marie Antoinette’s historical reputation is that of a spendthrift floozy. History has been discourteous to Marie Antoinette, and the tenuous relationship between France and Austria put her at a disadvantage; however, Marie

Antoinette failed to take advantage of her educational opportunities. Furthermore, her lack of ambition allowed her political enemies to slander her with impunity. Catherine, however, not only exceeded her tutors’ expectations, but she also refused to allow tradition to circumscribe her education. Additionally, Catherine’s political ambition required her to act in ways that created a public image for her that demanded respect.

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

Despite the fascinating personalities and individual studies of Catherine the Great of Russia and Marie Antoinette of France, there exists no sustained scholarly comparison of these famous contemporaries. In theory, it is Catherine who would seem to have been at a disadvantage: she was a minor German princess with a rather ambitious mother whose ill-advised intrigues while in Russia earned her the scorn of Empress Elizabeth

(Memoirs 13). Marie Antoinette, by way of contrast, was the daughter of Maria Theresa of Austria—a woman who had been a central player in European politics for decades.

Nevertheless, it is Marie Antoinette who could not bring herself to embrace her new subjects, nor was she seemingly capable of assuming the ponderous responsibilities that her birth and marriage required of her. Catherine, however, embraced Russia fully, learning Russian and converting to Russian Orthodoxy—despite her Lutheran father’s protests—and left a legacy of strong but enlightened rule that has withstood the carping criticism of her detractors notwithstanding the fact that she came to the throne by way of a coup d’etat.

Both queens were married to weak, ineffectual men. While Marie Antoinette was married to a good man whose incompetence was arguably the result of his trust in his aristocratic advisers, Catherine was married to a grown child who was mentally and emotionally incapable of governing. Both women were unfaithful to their husbands.

Nevertheless, while Marie Antoinette’s unjustifiably sullied reputation seemingly gave

2 license to libel in the pamphlets of the time, Catherine’s affairs seem rather strategic: for example, Grigory Orlov helped Catherine attain the throne. Ultimately, Catherine literally got away with Peter’s murder (for this is what the public perceived at the time, even if she was not, in fact, guilty) while Marie Antoinette was made the scapegoat for France’s problems and was executed more as a symbol than as a human being.

In part, surely the cultural context of each queen plays a role. France was the headquarters of the Enlightenment while the majority of Russia’s government officials were barely literate (de Madariaga 53). Thus while it is true that in both countries the average citizen was illiterate and therefore unqualified to organize for government reform of any kind, France’s social structure spawned a bourgeois class that assumed the responsibilities of government and international commerce; Russia’s more primitive economy and government tended to keep officials focused on their own provinces (de

Madariaga 49). Nevertheless, in one important way, Russia was more advanced than

France: while France, like the rest of the continent, adhered to Salic Law, Russia had a long history of powerful women who were able to contribute to society in ways other than reproduction and caregiving.

Still, the fact remains that Marie Antoinette and Catherine the Great took radically different approaches to their respective reigns, and in both cases, their approaches led directly to their respective countries’ governments changing significantly in response to their leadership skills. It is my contention that, despite modern day sentiments, good government lies not in the type of government (i.e., representative vs. autocratic) but in the leadership of the ruler(s) of said government. Therefore, although it is true that France

3 and Russia were radically different places in terms of cultural identity and sociopolitical development, Marie Antoinette’s ignorance of politics and early dependence upon her mother’s approval doomed her to live out the role that many in the French aristocracy had foreordained for her. They saw her as l’Autrichienne, an intriguer in the court who subordinated France’s interests to Austria’s until it was too late. She paid for her errors with her life. By way of contrast, although Catherine was also used as a pawn to further her mother’s ambitions, Catherine possessed a keen mind and ambition of her own that enabled her to retain Empress Elizabeth’s goodwill despite her mother’s clumsy, petty politics while in Russia. Further, Catherine’s careful study of statesmanship and her independence of mind permitted her to put down rebellions and usher in an age of

Russian cultural development.

Given the nature of my argument, I will be focusing on the history of the period from the Great (Wo)Man perspective. Although it is true that in both countries forces were in place to influence the course of events that unfolded, I contend that rulers and other leaders contribute far more to historical outcomes in most cases than do the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. The respective success and failure of the careers of

Catherine the Great and Marie Antoinette were largely determined by four forces: the relationship between the heir apparent’s country and the alliance bride’s country of origin; the relationship skills each woman had and developed with regard to the court; the seriousness with which each woman approached the duty of government; and the ability of each woman to create her own identity.

CHAPTER 2

REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE

Embarking on a comparison of Catherine the Great of Russia and Marie

Antoinette of France is a daunting task. First, one must distinguish each woman as a private person separate from the public figure each became. Further, one must take into account the role of female monarchs at the time and to what degree each woman was successful in filling—or subverting—that role. Then there is culture to be accounted for: France gave birth to the Enlightenment at a time when Russia was still playing a game of cultural catch-up, a fact that would have galled Peter I. Nevertheless, by the time of Marie Antoinette’s ascension, the character of the Enlightenment had changed significantly from what it had been in Catherine’s youth. The impact of that change would cause Catherine to reverse her earlier, liberal policies as she looked on in horror at the events surrounding Marie Antoinette’s demise. Lastly, one must assess the quality of influence each ruler exerted over her respective realm.

Catherine the Great speaks for herself in Marks Cruse’s and Hilde Hoogenboom’s translation of The Memoirs of Catherine the Great. Catherine’s memoirs are often referenced in biographies and scholarly works about her reign, and as valuable a source as they are, they deserve to be taken with a grain of salt: memoirs are an attempt to control one’s personal history, and particularly in the case of a leader, memoirs serve a political function. Nevertheless, Catherine’s memoirs create a means by which to meet

Catherine as a person. The figure who emerges from the memoirs is as charming and as

5 human as history suggests Catherine was. Still, the Cruse and Hoogenboom translation is but an excerpt of Catherine’s memoirs, unfortunately.

Robert K. Massie offers a contemporary view of Catherine in his biography

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman. As a Pulitzer Prize winning author for his work on Peter the Great, Massie offers a non-academic yet well-researched view of

Catherine drawn from her own memoirs as well as correspondence and official documents. The biography spans from Catherine’s youth to her death. Though the book reads like a novel, it is particularly helpful in shedding light on the political backdrop of both of the subjects of this examination—much more thoroughly than either Fraser or

Lever do in their respective biographies of Marie Antoinette, presumably because

Catherine was a major player in the politics of the time while Marie Antoinette was not.

Simon Dixon’s biography Catherine the Great takes a more critical eye of

Catherine. While Massie quotes from Catherine’s memoirs to listen to her view of events,

Dixon often calls Catherine’s retelling into question. Dixon’s view of his subject is largely admiring, but he does not seem to be inveigled by her as Massie sometimes is.

One of Dixon’s strengths is revealing the dynamics of the Russian court. While Massie exceled at placing Catherine’s reign in the context of European history, Dixon excels at explaining how Catherine’s government worked in terms of the participants. In all, Dixon complements Massie in coming to understand Catherine and her political world.

Olivier Bernier’s collection Imperial Mother, Royal Daughter: The

Correspondence of Marie Antoinette and Maria Theresa provides a primary source for the study of Marie Antoinette, her relationship with her mother, and the nature of her

6 mother’s influence on her life in France. Because Marie Antoinette acted on Maria

Theresa’s advice with regard to Austria, she became unpopular with many in the French court who were distrustful of the alliance in the first place. Unfortunately, Marie

Antoinette ignored the good advice regarding self-improvement and court behavior Maria

Theresa gave her. In so doing, Marie Antoinette made herself an easy target for the malicious work of the pamphleteers.

Antonia Fraser takes a sympathetic view of Marie Antoinette in Marie Antoinette:

The Journey. Although Fraser reveals Marie Antoinette’s shortcomings and character flaws and intimates how these contributed to her tragic end, Fraser portrays her subject as a compassionate but ill-prepared pawn in the political schemes of Maria Theresa. While

Fraser does not explicitly cast Maria Theresa as a villain, she does make repeated reference to the powerful hold she had on her daughter and her attempts to manipulate politics by exerting pressure on Marie Antoinette through critical letters and the advice of her diplomat—advice that served to undermine Marie Antoinette’s credibility in the

French court. Additionally, Fraser exposes the fact that the French court was largely opposed to the alliance with Austria crafted by Louis XV and Marie Theresa, and she points out the detrimental effect this prejudice would have on the early years of Marie

Antoinette’s marriage to Louis XVI.

By way of contrast, Evelyne Lever’s Marie Antoinette: The Last Queen of France explicitly portrays Maria Theresa as a ruthless, controlling figure whose indifference to her daughter’s happiness is chilling even in the context of political marriage. Moreover,

Lever exposes Mercy’s overweening ambition, claiming that he “obviously had the

7 intention of governing France—at least in foreign affairs—through the future Queen”

(52). In all of this, Marie Antoinette is cast as a victim of her mother’s scheming and her own character flaws. Lever’s portrayal of Marie Antoinette is not altogether unsympathetic, but her biography is more objectively analytical than Fraser’s. This is not to say that Fraser’s work is biased: many details overlap between the two works.

However, Lever’s work focuses more on the politics of the French court than Fraser’s does. Fraser is more interested in examining Marie Antoinette as a human being with the drama of the court in the background.

Jacques Barzun’s From Dawn to Decadence comments on a scope of European history far broader than the focus of this paper, but the work nevertheless is a valuable reference. His masterpiece views Western history through the lens of recurring themes such as emancipation, primitivism, and individualism. His thematic approach mirrors the work of the Great Books Foundation whose signature series The Great Books of the

Western World traces “great ideas” though the literature of Western civilization. An undisputed master of history, Barzun’s work is a thought-provoking read as well as an erudite one.

Similarly, Europe: A History by Norman Davies is far broader in focus than the requirements of this study, but his chapter on the Enlightenment is invaluable for understanding the relationship between the Enlightenment and how Rousseau’s writing began the shift toward the attitudes that would surface during the Revolution. His work elucidates connections made in Goodman’s The Republic of Letters and in Blum’s

Rousseau and the Republic of Virtue.

The Icon and the Axe by James Billington provides cultural context to the world into which Sophia (later Catherine) married. The early chapters of the book explain how the Russian Orthodox Church acquired power equal to the Tsar in the aftermath of the

Mongol invasion. He further highlights the cultural divisions in Russia. Because of

Muscovy’s distrust of the West, Peter the Great’s attempts to modernize Russia would become cultural fault-lines that Catherine would also have to contend with, embracing

Orthodoxy and recognizing its influence in Russia while styling much of her reign after that of her rather secular idol: Peter the Great himself.

Jonathan Steinberg’s lecture series European History and European Lives: 1715 to 1914 offers a supplementary perspective on Marie Antoinette and Catherine the Great as well as the influence of surrounding luminaries from Augustus the Strong to Maria

Theresa to Frederick the Great to Rousseau. Taking a Great (Wo)Man view of the time and viewing these individuals through the lens of tradition-versus-progress, Steinberg’s lectures relate individuals and their perspectives to each other and to the tumultuous cultural changes through which the subjects of this study lived.

William Beik provides a broader context for Marie Antoinette’s reign in A Social and Cultural History of Early Modern France. The scope of Beik’s work is rather broad for the focus of this paper, but it does provide some cultural insights that otherwise would not have been clear. For example, he explains how the relationships between the nobles of various regions and the monarch developed, and he reveals the relative intimacy the

Parisian fishwives had with the king and queen.

Dena Goodman’s The Republic of Letters: A Cultural History of the French

Enlightenment examines the intellectual climate of Catherine’s reign. While the

Enlightenment began in France, the Republic of Letters was an explicitly international coterie that embraced the exchange of ideas across borders. It is well-documented that

Catherine corresponded with Voltaire and earned his praise for her policies; what this book clarifies, together with Darnton’s book on the literary underground, is the distinction between the figures of the Enlightenment and those of the French Revolution.

As such, Goodman’s work lays the foundation for my contention that the pamphleteers represent a devolution of the Enlightenment and that the original members of the

Republic of Letters would not have approved of the Revolution, including but not limited to, the libelous publications produced by the pamphleteers.

Derek Beales’ book Enlightenment and Reform in Eighteenth-Century Europe details the influence of the philosophes on the rulers and policies of the day. Although much of his work focuses on Joseph II and the Hapsburg Empire, the book is also useful for understanding the general consensus among the members on public policy. For example, Beales points out that most of the philosophes were desirous of reform, not revolution per se. He also reveals that even the most radical of those associated with the

Enlightenment did not support the rapid abolition of serfdom.

Russia in the Age of Catherine the Great by Isabel de Madariaga fleshes out exactly how the Enlightenment influenced Catherine’s policies and achievements. Given the biographical focus of this study, de Madariaga’s work is more detailed than this work requires. The book is, nevertheless, definitive in its depth and detail.

Owen Connelly’s French Revolution, Napoleonic Era examines the social, political, and economic contexts of the French Revolution. For the purposes of this paper,

Connelly’s work is most useful for depicting the circumstances which fomented the

French Revolution and thus the fall of Marie Antoinette.

Susan Desan’s lecture series Living the French Revolution and the Age of

Napoleon provides another view of France as experienced by Louis XVI and Marie

Antoinette. A mixture of political, economic, and social history, Desan’s lectures provide an examination of the monarchy and the Revolution that shifts between overview and episode. Further, the accompanying course guidebook is not only a quickly referenced compendium of facts, it also recommends additional sources. Though her lectures were not used in this project, they formed my understanding of the period during my previous study of the French Revolution. Further, Desan’s bibliography has been most helpful in choosing research materials.

Robert Darnton’s The Literary Underground of the Old Regime details the link between the Republic of Letters and the disgruntled pamphleteers who would do so much to influence public opinion of Marie Antoinette. In short, Darnton argues that while the

Republic of Letters softened social hierarchy allowing for some social mobility, in the end, the group was exclusive and elitist. Goodman criticizes Darnton’s work as viewing the work of the pamphleteers through a “Rousseauean” lens (The Republic of Letters 62), and her analysis supports the link between Rousseau’s betrayal of Enlightenment values and the inversion of those values in the libelous publishers.

Marie Antoinette: Writings on the Body of a Queen, edited by Dena Goodman of the University of Michigan, is a collection of essays on Marie Antoinette’s public image.

The work provides an extensive analysis of the multiple ways in which Marie Antoinette has been represented over the years, from the libelous pamphlets of her own lifetime to recent movies. It also examines the application of unflattering tropes to other powerful women. For the purposes of this study, the Introduction and Mary Sheriff’s essay “The

Portrait of a Queen” were most directly useful, but the essays within and the images of multiple pamphlets illuminated the discussion of the pamphleteers and their work in other sources.

Goodman’s book on the Republic of Letters includes a footnote that references

Carol Blum’s book Rousseau and the Republic of Virtue: The Language of Politics in the

French Revolution. The sixth chapter of the book in particular is useful in examining

Rousseau’s subversion of Enlightenment values. This work complements that of both

Goodman and Davies.

George Armstrong Kelly’s article “The Machine of the Duc D’Orlèans and the

New Politics” analyzes the involvement of the Duc D’Orlèans in the pamphleteering industry. His estates became sites of multifarious illegal activities, from prostitution to pamphlet printing. Kelly exposes the irresponsible fostering of revolutionary sentiments for foolish, self-centered reasons.

Finally, Lori J. Marso examines women’s responses to the execution of Marie

Antoinette shortly after the event in “Defending the Queen: Wollstonecraft and Staël on

12 the Politics of Sensibility and Feminine Difference.” Through her analysis of early modern feminist writers, she exposes the misogyny that animated Revolutionary politics.

CHAPTER 3

CONTEXTUAL CONSIDERATIONS

Russian Context

The Russia that Catherine II inherited was, like the France Louis XVI and Marie

Antoinette inherited, largely the legacy of a ruler whose force of personality enabled the state to operate as it had. Louis XIV had ruled France as the “Sun King”; Peter the Great had recreated Russia as a European power. However, neither Louis XIV’s successors nor those of Peter the Great had the will nor the wisdom to bear the mantle which had been thrust upon them. Indeed, like Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, Catherine found herself in charge of a government teetering on the edge of bankruptcy on account of the Seven

Years’ War (Massie 291). Further, eerily similarly to the factors that would contribute to

France’s Revolution, Russia’s reality was not only that was the treasury empty, but also that a grain shortage had caused the price of grain to double. Catherine responded by turning her personal allowance over to the needs of the state, proclaiming that her interests and those of the state were the same. She further prohibited the exporting of grain, a policy that resolved the grain price crisis inside of two months (292). Catherine’s ability to respond quickly and effectively to the same problems that would later drive the

French Revolution speaks to some important differences between the governments of

France and Russia as well as their rulers. Though Catherine, like Louis XVI and Marie

Antoinette, was utterly lacking in administrative experience, unlike them, Catherine was ambitious and eager to learn how to govern (292). With regard to administrative culture,

France and Russia were very different places. France had coalesced from a series of treaties between feudal princes (Beik 4), which meant that the relationship between the monarch and the nobles involved a certain amount of compromise on both sides—tax exemptions and special privileges being obvious examples. By way of contrast, Russia was culturally far more autocratic. Following the years under Mongol power, Muscovy rose to power over other Russian cities. Perhaps the most important defining moment of this ascent was Muscovy’s subordination of Novgorod, a city that had never succumbed to Mongol power and that had cultural links to the West, which its representative checks on monarchical power suggests (Billington 82). Whereas Novgorod was far more aligned to Western values in its commercialism and rationalism, Muscovy owed its formation to the East and to Platonic idealism. As such, its concept of kingly authority was far more authoritarian, fusing the semi-divine image of Eastern kings with Plato’s philosopher- king, the latter colored by Muscovy’s highly religious culture (62). Thus, the crown held an absolute authority in Russia that the crown in France simply did not possess. Ergo, while Catherine recognized and rewarded the nobles and the military for their support of her coup d’etat, there was never any question of their role as subordinate. An examination of Catherine’s Nakaz and Legislative Commission later will highlight this point.

Nevertheless, the French monarchy’s relatively limited power created a situation that ultimately crippled its ability to correct systemic flaws. Of course, Louis XVI’s and

Marie Antoinette’s political incompetence only aggravated the problem.

Finally, Russia’s historical acceptance not only of female rulers but also of rulers of questionable pedigree allowed for Catherine’s coup d’etat. While France was ruled by

Salic Law, distrusting the influence of foreign queens and permitting them only an illusory power as a regent under the influence of a ministerial cabinet, Russia had been governed by several women prior to Catherine, both before and after the Mongol invasion. In fact, when Peter III ascended the throne, he was the first male ruler Russia had had in over a century (Dixon 118). Further, while France was particular about the social class of both parents—the woman who would become Empress Elizabeth of Russia was rejected from marital alliance considerations in part because of Peter the Great’s (her father’s) marriage to a peasant woman (Massie 30)—Russians accepted Peter the Great’s marriage without much difficulty. Russia’s relative open-mindedness with regard to its royalty (no doubt influenced by its autocratic power structure) permitted a wise, German princess to rule the Empire in favor of her incompetent Romanov husband. Thus, for all its perceived “backwardness,” when it came to royal succession, Russia was far more progressive than France.

French Context

The France that Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette inherited was a realm of immense political importance: “Until the unification of Germany in the nineteenth century, France was the richest and most densely populated kingdom in Europe” (Beik

1). However, France’s power was more apparent than real.1 Centuries of wars, from the

1 It is, nevertheless, worth remembering that the false appearance was not only an illusion of the French government but also of “foreign observers.” These illusions were rooted in mistaken metrics: population size and state income (Connelly 10 11). In fact, the rapid population growth that took place from 1730–1789 would strain France’s resources (Beik 13).

16 religious wars of the 1500s to the battle for dominance in the New World, had wreaked havoc on France’s economy. Louis XIV—arguably the one monarch in France’s history between 1650 and 1750 who would have had the force of personality to initiate reform— rather than reforming the economy, simply borrowed money from the nobility and sold political offices at a remarkable rate. Of course, this merely vested the nobility in preserving the status quo of a broken economy, since political offices became family investments (Beik 144). To compound the looming economic disaster, unlike the English, the French nobility saw engaging in business as being beneath them (Connelly 22).

Therefore, as the French economy was further challenged by competition from English and Dutch markets, the French were culturally unable to meet the challenge.

Additionally, while the English had had their Industrial Revolution and had rejected mercantilist theory, France clung to traditional artisan manufacturing and to mercantilism, thus undercutting their economy’s ability to recover: England was producing cheap but popular textiles that it exported freely while France had limited itself to its own luxury market. However, the precipitous situation of the French economy and thus of the French government was not apparent at the time of the French and Austrian alliance that was sealed by the marriage of Louis XVI and Maria Marie Antoinette of

Austria.

The balance of power in Europe prior to the ascension of Louis XVI and Marie

Antoinette had been a dance between Spain, France, England, Prussia, and Austria, with each monarch preventing rivals from gaining too much power. While France and Austria had long been rivals, France’s alliance with Prussia—embodied in the person of

Frederick the Great, who had stripped Maria Theresa of part of her realm, made the enmity all the more bitter. However, when Prussia began to court alliance with England, a fierce rival of France both in the Old World and in the New, the way was clear for

France and Austria to reconsider their relationship with each other. This was an especially attractive consideration for Austria because Maria Theresa believed that an alliance with France would enable her to regain Silesia (Fraser 10), and because the tie would increase her influence at the expense of Louis XV’s (Lever 12). However, despite an accord between leaders, many in the courts of both countries were opposed to the alliance. This would have disastrous consequences for Marie Antoinette. On the one hand, Austrians denigrated the French as being frivolous and inconstant, an attitude that likely influenced Marie Antoinette’s own attitudes later (Fraser 11). On the other hand, the French court worried that Austria would try to use France for her own ends, as history would later prove right. The sentiment was so strong that Louis XVI’s parents spoke to him about their disapproval before their deaths (Lever 15). Not only would the unfavorable view of the Franco-Austrian alliance affect Marie Antoinette’s marriage, it would also magnify the distrust of the French nobility when she foolishly advocated for her mother’s agenda out of her own ignorance of European politics. In short, for many reasons outside of her control, Marie Antoinette was placed in a marital and political situation that was likely to make her exceedingly unpopular, though she did not realize it at the time. Her own lack of focus and resulting ignorance of European history and politics doomed her to be the stooge of her mother and brother for many of her years as queen. Thus fate colluded with her own faults in her ultimate destruction.

CHAPTER 4

EARLY LIVES OF THE SUBJECTS

Catherine’s Early Years

The woman known to history as Catherine the Great was born Sophia Augusta

Fredericka to Prince Christian Augustus of Anhalt-Zerbst and Princess Johanna Elizabeth of Holstein-Gottorp. Both parents amounted to rather minor German nobility, but

Johanna had dreams of greatness. Those dreams stemmed from a childhood spent in

Brunswick, a court described as “the most sumptuously magnificent court in north

Germany” (Massie 4). Brought up by a childless godmother, Johanna’s childhood was spent in a luxurious environment that belied the reality of her birth family’s situation.

While a member of the nobility, her family’s position as a “minor branch . . . of the

Holsteins” (4) suggests that despite Johanna’s delusions of grandeur, she was not likely to achieve greatness. Nevertheless, her marriage to Prince Christian was a source of disappointment in her life, as he was able to provide only a modest life, especially when compared to the court life to which Johanna was accustomed. Indeed, Dixon writes,

“Dwarfed by their Saxon and Prussian neighbours, the princes of the House of Anhalt were among the poorest and most insignificant in Germany” (32).

Besides her adjustment to a lesser life than the one she had envisioned, Johanna was not well prepared for the responsibilities of family life. She was, furthermore, immature, seeing her unborn firstborn as “[an] extensio[n] of herself . . . [who] would supply the broad avenue on which she would travel to achieve her own ambitions”

(Massie 4–5) rather than as an individual with a destiny of his or her own. As a result of her lack of preparation and her immaturity, Johanna never bonded with Sophia (5).

Nevertheless, as a member of the aristocracy, Sophia was trained in the social graces of the time (i.e., music, dancing, court culture) as well as learning to speak French, the language of European upper classes. Fortunately for Sophia, she was gifted with a gentle governess who taught her early the pleasure of reading and being read to (Dixon 26), but as the daughter of a minor German prince, she was not trained in diplomacy. Indeed, as a woman, why would she be? Western Europe had a long history of not taking women seriously as rulers, from French Salic Law, to the papal bull published against Elizabeth I of England, to the Holy Roman Empire’s denial of the title “Empress” to Maria Theresa, despite the reality of her administration. Rather, aristocratic women were generally seen as a means to increase a family’s influence. Indeed, it is telling that Johanna had fantasized that her firstborn—the unborn person onto whom she had pinned all of her ambitions—was a male (Massie 5). Her disappointment in Sophia as frustration to her plans, however misguided, was not without social basis.

Nevertheless, although Sophia was not taught to rule, her own inquisitive mind opened the door for her to forge her own education beyond that which had been provided for her. Massie references Sophia’s infuriating questions to her religious teacher— questions beyond her years that were clearly philosophical in scope (7). Her habit of mind would later drive her to read works of history and Enlightened philosophy that would inform her rule. Unlike Marie Antoinette, whose only interests were in the social

20 graces, Sophia cared little for music2 but was gifted with prodigious curiosity. In fact,

Sophia’s strength of mind and character frightened Johanna, who tried to make her daughter more malleable with marriage in mind as her “only destiny” (9). Johanna’s attempts to curb her daughter’s spirit only resulted in teaching Sophia how to use meekness as a diplomatic tactic (9). Therefore, while Sophia’s planned curriculum was of limited direct use in preparing her to rule, fate seemingly had other plans. For one,

Sophia’s education ingrained in her a strong work ethic that stayed with her throughout her life (Dixon 8). In addition to gracing Sophia with a natural curiosity and, as she put it in her Memoirs, “[the ability] to please” (97), Johanna’s harshness equipped Sophia with the skill to survive the volatile court of Empress Elizabeth. Later, after her arrival in

Russia, fate would further assist Catherine by providing Praskovia Vladislavova as her lady-in-waiting. Catherine wrote of Madame Vladislavova: “she . . . knew all the anecdotes of past and present times by heart, knew four or five generations of all the families . . . and no one informed me more about what had happened in Russia over the past hundred years than she” (63). In short, by happenstance, Catherine was granted a tutor in Russia court life as her lady-in-waiting. Moreover, Catherine had the wisdom to value this woman’s knowledge for the precious resource it was.

The hidden curriculum of her parents’ marriage also prepared Sophia for the realities of an aristocratic marriage. Noble matches were largely alliances of rank and influence, not love. Indeed, Prince Christian married Johanna when he was thirty-seven

2 Massie quotes Catherine’s words in her Memoirs: “I long to hear and enjoy music, but I try in vain. It is noise to my ears and that is all” (qtd. in Massie 8).

21 years old and she was fifteen. While his motivation was to please his family by marrying and producing an heir, Johanna was shepherded into marriage because the prince’s family ranked above them (Massie 3). Besides the incompatibility suggested by the age span between spouses, Prince Christian embodied values antithetical to those Johanna held: while he was economical, she was lavish; while he was reserved, she was vivacious (3).

Nevertheless, regardless of her disappointment, she fulfilled her duties (4). Thus, because of her home life, Sophia did not consider marriage as a path to personal fulfillment. In one thing, Sophia was Johanna’s child: she was ambitious (Memoirs 31).3 Sophia’s lack of expectation of marital happiness and her search for fulfillment in power and philosophy would sustain her through the years of her marriage to Peter.

Although the man who would become Peter III of Russia is not the focus of this study, his response to education so starkly contrasts with Sophia’s and so closely mirrors that of Marie Antoinette’s that it is worth mentioning. Whereas Sophia not only mastered her lessons but also posed questions of her own to her tutors (Massie 7–8), Peter’s math and history tutor despaired of his task, ultimately choosing to entertain rather than teach him anything (Memoirs 6). Similarly, Marie Antoinette was never made to focus on her lessons because her tutor allowed herself to be charmed by her charge. Thus both Peter and Marie Antoinette were sorely lacking in their preparation for government, though for

3 Catherine noted in her Memoirs: “As [my wedding] day approached, I grew more deeply melancholic. My heart did not foresee great happiness; ambition alone sustained me. At the bottom of my soul I had something, I know not what, that never for a single moment let me doubt that sooner or later I would succeed in becoming the sovereign of Russia in my own right.”

22 very different reasons: Peter on account of his intransigence, and Maria Antoinette on account of her teacher’s weakness. In both cases, the lack of education and its discipline was directly related to the behavior that would ultimately condemn them politically.

Indeed, to the extent that the murder of either person can be defended, it is precisely on the grounds of political incompetence in the time of crisis.

Marie Antoinette’s Early Years

Perhaps the fatal details of Marie Antoinette’s life are that she was a Hapsburg princess and that she was the daughter of Maria Theresa. The Hapsburgs prided themselves on marrying into alliances and thereby increasing power; thus, Maria

Theresa’s view of her children—particularly her daughters—as pawns in a game of power is unsurprising. Nevertheless, Maria Theresa’s callous attitude toward her daughters’ potential happiness sheds an unflattering light on Maria Theresa’s character.

While it is universally acknowledged that Maria Theresa was a remarkable woman whose political prowess and quasi-maniacal time management skills (Lever 3)4 make her a model in many ways worth following, her lack of compassion with regard to her children’s marital arrangements mars the record of an otherwise great woman. This is not to say, however, that Maria Theresa did not care for her children; on the contrary, Maria

Theresa took great pride in her children and great interest in their education. Indeed,

4 Lever opens her biography of Marie Antoinette by describing Maria Theresa as being so opposed to wasting time that she used her time in labor to have a tooth extracted, since she could not concentrate on matters of state during contractions (3).

Bernier points out that Maria Theresa’s involvement in her young children’s lives was atypical for the time (Bernier 4).

Marie Antoinette was born at the apogee of her mother’s reign (Fraser 10).

However, the circumstances surrounding Maria Theresa’s statecraft were complex and doubtless influenced her political behavior. Although she was willed by her father to inherit the Empire, all of his efforts went to naught at his death, and Frederick the Great seized the opportunity to snatch Silesia, the Hapsburg empire’s most prosperous region

(9). Maria Theresa was never able to regain the region, and the bitterness that Frederick’s behavior engendered resulted in a political enmity that, together with Prussia’s joining forces with England (France’s longstanding rival), drove Austria and France to ally themselves against Prussia in 1756. That alliance would be sealed in the Hapsburg way— by marriage—and Fraser claims, “No single event in Marie Antoinette’s childhood was to have a more profound influence on the course of her life than this alliance, forged while she was still in her cradle” (10). Nevertheless, at the time of Marie Antoinette’s birth in 1755, Maria Theresa reigned triumphant: she was celebrating her twentieth anniversary of marriage to the love of her life;5 and she had won the confidence not only of other princes in Europe but also of her own subjects. The latter is a great victory on

Maria Theresa’s part. According to Lever, her subjects were “deeply troubled to be

5 It is worth noting that for all of Maria Theresa’s talk of filial obligations and the beneficence of a family culture that furthered its interests by strategic marriages, she “married down” for love. She rejected the heir to the Spanish throne in favor of Francis of Lorraine, who was obligated to surrender his Lorraine duchy to marry Maria Theresa (Fraser 7).

24 governed by a woman” (4). Maria Theresa solved this problem by having Francis crowned Emperor and then ruling in his stead—an arrangement that suited him, as he did not share her ambition (Fraser 21).

Prior to her ascension, the Viennese court had been a place of stiff manners.

Fraser credits Francis with the change (15), and certainly given Francis’s even temper and love of life, that he would influence the court to ease its historically strict protocol makes sense. However, in his lecture series European History and European Lives: 1715 to 1914, Professor Jonathan Steinberg relates the story of Maria Theresa interrupting a show at the Royal Theater in 1768 to bound onto the stage and announce the birth of her grandson. Such impulsive behavior suggests a court life that is not bound to unbending rules of etiquette. Indeed, the fact that the royal family was on display occasionally rather than constantly (Dixon 33) indicates that Marie Antoinette’s upbringing was far less stifling than the court into which she would marry. Moreover, Steinberg claims that

Maria Theresa’s perceived naturalness worked in her favor; her subjects came to love her for it. Bernier discusses the rather “bourgeois life” Maria Theresa led as well, noting that the Austrian court’s relative informality and privacy compared to the rest of Europe was quite odd for the time (Bernier 6). The relaxed atmosphere of the Viennese court would later prove a disadvantage to Marie Antoinette when she was faced with the stiff court of

Versailles.

Steinberg also claims that Maria Theresa had had little formal education. While it is obvious that she possessed a natural ability for leadership, Maria Theresa’s lack of proper education herself likely influenced the education her children received. The girls

25 were trained in courtly social graces, music, dance, and submission. Maria Theresa expected nothing less than absolute obedience from her daughters (Fraser 20–1). This expectation would later put Marie Antoinette in danger, when the values of her upbringing—German superiority and filial obedience—clashed with the role her mother hand chosen for her: Queen of France. In fact, according to Bernier, Maria Theresa explicitly taught her daughters that their first duty was to the Austrian State, regardless of the role their marriages would later confer on them. The girls were told that by way of their feminine charms, they were to assure their husbands’—preferably subservient— allegiance to Austria (7). Clearly, from the perspective of the girls’ new subjects, such education was treasonous. However, with regard to the more rigorous parts of her education, Marie Antoinette had been largely able to circumvent them. Maria Theresa had entrusted Marie Antoinette’s literacy to Countess Brandeis, a woman Fraser describes as “not very bright” but a teacher who loved her charge and perhaps made up for the maternal affection that was lacking in Maria Theresa (Fraser 32), who by this point in her reign was busy waging war against Prussia. In any event, because Marie

Antoinette was charming and beloved by her teacher, she was spoiled and not required to read well, write at a reasonable pace, or concentrate (32-3). When Maria Theresa began actively preparing Marie Antoinette for marriage, it was discovered that not only did

Marie Antoinette not know France’s history; she did not know Austria’s (38). Equally damning, Marie Antoinette was barely literate in German, Italian, or French (Lever 13), the language read by nearly all educated people in Europe at the time (Davies 590).

Although Maria Theresa tried to remedy all of these faults as best she could when she

26 learned of them, by this point, Marie Antoinette’s character had been formed. Her ignorance of history and of politics would ruin her in her role as Queen of France.

Finally, Marie Antoinette was formed in part by her father’s influence and by his early death. Marie Antoinette’s preference for informality is a trait Fraser credits to her father. However, his early death had a more direct impact on Marie Antoinette’s character formation in ways that would harm her navigation of the French court. Clearly,

Maria Theresa was devastated by the unexpected death of her husband. In fact, Lever reveals that she briefly thought of giving up the Empire and retiring to a convent (9).

Though she ultimately chose to share power with her oldest son, the woman who had once given a surprise children’s party (10) was gone. In her place ruled a woman who wore black for the rest of her life and who spent less time intimately with her family. In fact, her children would now perceive her as distant and disapproving of them (9). Maria

Theresa’s behavior as a widow toward her children, combined with Marie Antoinette’s lack of training in focus and wit, would contribute to her unease around intelligent, self- confident older women (Fraser 23) like her mother had been at this time without the buffer of Francis Stephen. Unfortunately, women of this kind would rule the court of

Versailles. Once again, the double stroke of fate and the fruit of unwise youthful choices would conspire against Marie Antoinette.

CHAPTER 5

ROYAL MARRIAGES AND TRANSITIONS

Sophia Becomes Catherine

Unlike Marie Antoinette’s experience in which she did not leave her home country until she was to become betrothed and shortly thereafter married, Sophia traveled to Russia at Elizabeth’s request to be considered for Peter, Elizabeth’s nephew and declared heir. Although Elizabeth was a daughter of Peter the Great, she had usurped the throne from Anna Leopoldovna, who was acting as regent for Ivan VI. Ironically, the contest between Elizabeth and Anna Leopoldovna would be nearly repeated later between Peter III and Catherine: while Anna was German and had surrounded herself only with foreigners, Elizabeth was a Russian, body and soul (Massie 38). While

Elizabeth charmed the Russian army, rumors swirled that Anna planned to send Elizabeth to a convent to ensure Ivan’s succession (38). However, although Elizabeth won the popularity contest against Anna in the short term, she was an unmarried—or perhaps secretly married—woman without an heir while a tsar waited in the wings to be championed at any point in the future by malcontents (39). Elizabeth needed an heir, and she needed a dynasty. Elizabeth thus adopted Peter, the son of her sister, and made him her heir to the throne. However, despite his being the progeny of Peter the Great, it was with his German relations that he identified, idolizing Frederick II rather than Peter (47).

When Elizabeth realized the irony of her situation, she tried to amend Peter’s tastes but to no avail. Then Peter became ill in October 1743, and Elizabeth realized the precarious

28 ground upon which her throne rested. She wrote to Johanna to rush her and Sophia to

Russia. She hoped that marriage might help to mature Peter. Unfortunately, her hope would prove fruitless.

In some significant ways, Sophia’s arrival in Russia mirrored Marie Antoinette’s in France: Vice Chancellor Bestuzhev was opposed to the match (Memoirs 8), and her future husband had been taught by Sophia’s uncle—who hoped to gain the administration of Holstein upon Peter’s majority—as well as by his chamber valet, to treat Sophia with harshness because they feared her influence on him (25). However, unlike Louis, Peter was incapable of keeping his own counsel and told Sophia about her uncle’s treachery shortly thereafter (26). Thus, unlike Marie Antoinette, Sophia understood her political position with regard to Peter prior to marriage. She wisely cultivated Peter’s confidence for her own ends and worked to make friends and reduce the hatred of enemies from the start of her Russian life (26). Unlike Marie Antoinette, Sophia stayed out of court politics—at least early on—and set about winning public acclaim for her dutiful behavior toward the Empress, her mother, and the Grand Duke. Moreover, she “made it a rule to believe that she needed everyone and . . . to act in such a way as to win their goodwill” (30), a policy quite different from Marie Antoinette’s allowing herself to be drawn into petty court factions like siding with the king’s sisters against his mistress. While Marie Antoinette seems to have been genuinely unaware that a royal court can be a politically dangerous place, Sophia’s political awareness appears to have been a native trait. Like Marie Antoinette, Sophia’s mother had political ambitions that endangered the future of her daughter. While Prince Christian had reservations about his daughter marrying into the ruling family of a country with a history of political instability (Massie 17), there is nothing to suggest that Johanna shared her husband’s concerns. Indeed, like

Maria Theresa, Johanna planned to intrude on foreign policy in her daughter’s new home. However, unlike Maria Theresa, Johanna’s plans were to increase her own political importance rather than to accomplish her country’s political agenda. Frederick II of Prussia had read Johanna’s lust for power correctly, pressing her to try to get Bestuzhev dismissed on account of his pro-Austrian stance because the diplomat opposed Peter’s marriage to Sophia (24). What Frederick did not count on was Johanna’s overweening self-importance. Because Johanna now saw herself as being the lynchpin of a diplomatic mission, she continued to intrigue against Bestuzhev, even after her daughter’s betrothal quelled concerns about the diplomat’s ability to prevent the marriage (57). Letters between her and the French and Prussian ambassadors were intercepted and copied by Bestuzhev and presented to the empress—another mark of political stupidity given the time. Insofar as Maria Theresa’s first instruction to Marie Antoinette details precautions to be taken in their correspondence, Johanna’s assumption that her correspondence was private seems all the more reckless. Elizabeth was understandably infuriated that a minor princess to whom she had extended the magnificence of Russian hospitality would presume to meddle in court affairs (60). It was a matter of luck and perhaps fate that Elizabeth did not hold Sophia in any way responsible for her mother’s folly. In a stroke of poetic justice, all that Johanna’s ambitions awarded her was a rushed timeline for her daughter’s marriage to the Grand Duke so as to remove Johanna from Russia (62). Given Johanna’s neglect of her daughter, her detachment, and her endangering of Catherine’s future, Catherine can only have been relieved at her mother’s departure, though in her Memoirs, she claims to have been distressed (32). With her mother gone, Catherine could now focus on navigating her new marriage and the Russian court. She recognized early on that her husband was essentially a child (30) and that he had little love for her (36). Nevertheless, as she had not married

30 for love but rather for ambition (31), she made the requisite adjustments to maintain her own happiness: “I endeavored to conquer my pride, to not be jealous at all of a man who did not love me, but the only way to not be jealous was not to love him” (36). Instead, Catherine focused on working to gain the love and esteem of everyone, regardless of their position (30). Despite the fact that Catherine was often the victim of court intrigues in her early years, losing beloved companions and servants to political maneuvers, she proved herself adept at turning erstwhile enemies into faithful friends. Indeed, Bestuzhev would eventually become part of Catherine’s government (Dixon 133), and Madame Choglokova became complicit in Catherine’s affair with Sergei Saltykov, recognizing that Catherine was never going to produce an heir through Peter (Massie 156; Memoirs 117).

In addition to the bitter disappointment her husband became with regard to their married life,6 when Catherine did conceive and give birth to an heir (arguably Saltykov’s child), Elizabeth whisked the child away, insisting on acting as mother herself (Dixon 92; Massie 167). Not only was Catherine left to fend for herself in recovering from childbirth; she also found herself unable to inquire openly about her own child, since doing so would be interpreted by Elizabeth as a lack of faith in his caretaker (Dixon 92). Although it was common for aristocratic women to assign the tedious part of childcare to hired women, even noble women were permitted time to cuddle with and bond to their babies (Massie 167). Catherine’s being denied time with her son—indeed, Dixon claims the Elizabeth was almost exclusively Paul’s caregiver for the first eight years of his life (Dixon 92)—prevented her from bonding with Paul (Massie 167). While Catherine was denied domestic fulfillment, her status as mother of a future emperor changed the

6 Massie refers to Catherine’s reputed virginity after years of marriage (152); Dixon makes reference to Peter’s open pursuit of other women (86).

31 dynamics of the court. Accordingly, so did her behavior: she chose “to make those who had caused me so much suffering understand that I could not be offended and mistreated with impunity” (Memoirs 141). Although Catherine portrays herself (and her biographers agree) as charming and even-tempered, her measured retaliation against political nemeses doubtlessly enhanced her reputation. While the court groaned under the weight of

Elizabeth’s (and later Peter’s) volatile natures, Catherine’s calculated anger reminded her inferiors that her amiable nature was not to be trifled with. Beyond the world of the Russian court, Catherine made a point of ingratiating herself with the Russian people. In addition to recognizing the importance of learning Russian—insofar as French was the lingua franca of Europe and Catherine already spoke French, she could have gotten on well enough without Russian,7 practically speaking—

Catherine not only converted to Russian Orthodoxy but made public displays of her “piety.”8 In fact, when Elizabeth eventually died, Catherine made a point of kneeling beside Elizabeth’s coffin for hours, dressed in black, stripped of her finery, and apparently lost in grief (Massie 241). Of course, Catherine’s humble, religious expression endeared her the more to the hearts of her subjects. Her wisdom in embracing her adopted country’s culture would pay astronomical political capital in the days ahead.

7 Indeed, Frederick II of Prussia never spoke German; he spoke only French (Steinberg; Fraser 8). 8 Though Catherine believed in God, she was not particularly enthralled with organized religion.

Marie Antonia Becomes Marie Antoinette

Marie Antoinette’s transition from Austrian archduchess to French dauphine was marked by continuing themes already introduced. As Marie Antoinette was about to leave

Austria, Maria Theresa seems to have perceived her unfinished work, and she wrote to

Louis XV to beg his indulgence with her daughter’s youthful lack of sobriety (Lever 17;

Fraser 39). Nevertheless, despite her disadvantages, Marie Antoinette was not without charm, dignity, and the ability to please people (Fraser 69). Following her handing over to the French, her entourage stopped in Strasbourg. When the town’s dignitary addressed her in German, she told him, “Don’t speak to me in German. From now on I want to hear no other language but French” (Fraser 63). Her apparently wholehearted adoption of her new country made an impression on those who witnessed it. Further, she made a winning impression on the King when, upon alighting from her carriage, she looked upon him flatteringly, ran to him with the unrestrained excitement of a child, and then dropped to a curtsy before him (Lever 20; Fraser 64). In keeping with her parents’ court, she had disregarded noble formality, and it worked to her advantage—this time.

The formality of the court of Versailles was, in fact, a deliberately orchestrated one: Louis XIV, brought up during civil wars that resulted from his regent-mother’s marriage to her chief minister as well as Louis’s infancy, recognized the importance of checking the nobles’ power and established etiquette as his means of doing so (Barzun

285–6; Lever 27–8). His method was conquest by division, creating an environment in which power-hungry nobles watched for evidence of royal favoritism rather than busying

33 themselves with disrupting the king’s exercise of power (Barzun 287; Bernier 10).

Nevertheless, Louis XIV was a good ruler in one important sense: he took the responsibility of ruling seriously and acted as a civil servant, sitting in council with his secretaries of state daily (Barzun 285). Still, he was very much a creature of the ancient regime: in his court, position was asserted and defended, in part, by opulence (Lever 29).9

Marie Antoinette would scorn the formality but embrace the opulence of the Versailles court, to her peril.

The French court of Louis XV was dominated by a complex network of nobles who took court etiquette seriously (Lever 30) despite the fact that Louis XV himself found the system tiresome. This world was very different from the world in which Marie

Antoinette had grown up: Austria’s court was dictated by strict morality rather than strict manners. As such, Marie Antoinette was scandalized by her father-in-law’s affair with a woman much younger than he and reputed to be low class (Lever 33)—an attitude applauded by the king’s spinster sisters who treated Antoinette kindly while undermining her relationship with Louis XVI because of her Austrian heritage (Lever 33; Bernier 13).

At the same time, Marie Antoinette ignored Madame de Noailles, her appointed lady-in- waiting, who tried to impress on her young charge the rules and importance of the French court system (Lever 30). Indeed, in her “instruction” to Marie Antoinette at the time of their parting, Maria Theresa explicitly directed Marie Antoinette not only to ask Madame de Noailles constantly what to do but how to do it, reminding Marie Antoinette that she

9 As part of larger European culture of the time, Steinberg discusses expenditure as a display of power in his lecture on Augustus II of Saxony/Poland.

34 was a foreigner in a new country (qtd. in Bernier 32–3). Ignorant of the workings of the

French court, Marie Antoinette behaved rudely toward Madame du Barry, and she acted disrespectfully toward the elderly, whom she found boring (Lever 39). In so doing, she had made a terrible impression on people whose goodwill she would later need.

To make matters worse, as seen above, Marie Antoine’s lack of seriousness and weak education contributed to her inability to fit in well at the French court. As also noted above, many in the French court were distrustful of an Austrian alliance.10 Maria

Theresa’s impositions further complicated Marie Antoinette’s transition. Despite leaving

Austria, Marie Antoinette was still largely under her mother’s thumb. She often received directives from her mother, including an admonition to adopt French traditions while remaining a “good German.” Moreover, she was not to read any French books that her confessor did not explicitly permit, since Maria Theresa saw the French as irreverent people and did not want her daughter’s piety tainted (Fraser 48). Of course, being denied immersion into French culture by way of her mother’s censorship kept Marie Antoinette an outsider with regard to the country and culture over which she was one day to rule.

Marie Antoinette’s compliant nature—the fact that she would even countenance her mother’s advice on this matter—is certainly a contributing factor in her ultimate demise.

Nevertheless, Maria Theresa’s willingness to exploit her daughter’s nature for her own political ends suggests that Marie Antoinette’s own mother acted as an agent of fate in her daughter’s life. Lever writes:

10 Interestingly, Fraser includes a footnote pointing out that Marie Antoinette actually had more French blood in her than her husband did (69).

Vienna had grasped that the Princess would become a true ally so long as she was

threatened with losing her mother’s love. Austrian Chancellor Kaunitz was no

more troubled by this emotional blackmail than Maria Theresa. They took no

account of the young woman’s feelings or real interests. They viewed her as a

pawn for Austria in the diplomatic game of chess. Maria Theresa was extremely

cold-blooded in judging her daughter. (39)

Indeed, Mercy, who was supposed to be Marie Antoinette’s trusted advisor from home, helping her adjust to the ways of her new life and culture, in fact acted as Maria

Theresa’s proxy, feeding Marie Antoinette “advice” that served Austria’s ends rather than

France’s or Marie Antoinette’s (80). Several of Mercy’s early letters to Maria Theresa brag about Marie Antoinette’s dominance over Louis.11

The irony in all of this was that Marie Antoinette was not, by nature, a political intriguer (Fraser 100). In fact, because she did not follow political developments, she was surprised when her father-in-law dismissed Choiseul (Lever 35), France’s foreign minister, as a result of his siding with the Parlements rather than the king and urging war with Britain at a time when France could not afford further conflict. While Marie

Antoinette’s political obliviousness was in part her own fault, Lever makes it clear that

Mercy set himself up as Marie Antoinette’s “sole intellectual guide” with the intention of later ruling France through her (48). Unfortunately for him—and for her—Marie

Antoinette was absolutely lacking in political ambition, preferring pleasure to power. Had

11 Mercy’s letters to Maria Theresa of 14 July 1770 and 20 August 1770 (qtd. in Bernier 43, 45.)

Marie Antoinette been born to a bourgeois life, she quite possibly would have been safe and happy. Her royal birth and lack of political interest condemned her to be unequal to the task for which fate had assigned her.

Nevertheless, compared to Catherine, Marie Antoinette was, at least, fortunate in the domestic sphere of her marriage. Although Louis and Marie Antoinette did not consummate their marriage for several years—Marie Antoinette’s brother would later blame this on both of them being “blunderers” (Fraser 157)—Louis in fact loved Marie

Antoinette, and he loved her exclusively (Lever 114). Moreover, when she did conceive, she had the luxury of mothering her own child, even though her choice to do so was atypical in the context of the French court (116). Unfortunately, Louis’s fidelity would become a matter of concern to the court: in France, a king’s (native) mistress was expected to balance the influence of his (foreign) wife (Fraser 457). Though Louis would ultimately reject Marie Antoinette’s attempts to influence French foreign policy (Lever

115), his unswerving love for his wife would contribute to making her a scapegoat for

France’s problems.

CHAPTER 6

SEXUAL POLITICS AND POWER

Catherine’s Lovers and Political Success

There has long been a double standard between men and women with regard to sexuality. Men are allowed—and sometimes even expected—to behave promiscuously while women’s value is tied to their modesty and chastity. Or so it would seem. In reality, women have often wielded a great deal of power precisely by exploiting their own charms. In ancient Greece, for example, “respectable” women stayed home and managed the household; meanwhile, their husbands spent their time exchanging thoughts and other favors with hetairai, who were far more exciting on account of their brains and education than the dutiful wives at home. Similarly, Cleopatra reasserted her right to rule Egypt by way of her affair with Julius Caesar. Later, in Old Regime France, the influence of the

King’s mistress was something to be reckoned with, even if courtiers complained about it

(Lever 55). Indeed, women’s history has often unfolded as the link between sexual and political power.

From a woman’s perspective, sexual politics is a dangerous game. For every

Aspasia, there are many Messalinas and Monica Lewinskys. Given the limitations placed on the appropriate use of femininity (i.e., purity and a nurturing personality), a woman’s choice to deviate from social expectations makes her vulnerable to accusations of manipulative monstrosity on the one hand and light-minded loose morals on the other.

Striking the balance between prurient and prudish while controlling for public image is a challenge met successfully only by the most daring, focused, and intelligent women.

Catherine was such a woman. Although Peter initially befriended her on her arrival in Russia, he was incapable of being a husband to her, physically at least in the early days of their marriage, and intellectually and emotionally thereafter. Catherine came to Russia a budding fourteen-year-old intellectual who was recognized as such by the Swedish diplomat Count Gyllenborg. In her Memoirs, Catherine credits Gyllenborg with helping to “for[m] and fortif[y] the mettle of [her] mind and [her] soul” (22).

Meanwhile, Peter, who was a year older, was making his servants perform military exercises to fulfill his own fantasies (7). Nevertheless, when Elizabeth perceived that

Peter and Catherine were not doing their duty—namely, producing an heir—she blamed

Catherine for “not loving [her] husband” (41). The irony of the accusation was that Peter was constantly chasing other women (11); nevertheless, even five years into the marriage,

Catherine’s governess Madame Choglokova would report to the Empress that the marriage still had not been consummated. At this point, Elizabeth lashed out at

Choglokova as well (112).

Of course, royal couples were expected to produce children. Indeed, a bride’s position in her new country was a precarious one until and unless she gave birth to a son.

Both Catherine and Marie Antoinette would face tremendous pressure on this count, albeit for very different reasons and with vastly different outcomes.

Ultimately, Madame Choglokova chose to act pragmatically. Recognizing that

Catherine was unlikely ever to bear Peter’s child, she promised Catherine—for the sake

39 of love of country—not to interfere if she took Sergei Saltykov as a lover (Memoirs 117).

In September 1754, Catherine bore Saltykov’s son. The child was recognized as Peter’s

(i.e., referred to as Paul Petrovich), but it was common knowledge that Paul was

Saltykov’s child (footnote in Memoirs 133). Although in the days immediately following

Paul’s birth, Catherine was ignored, her position in Russia was secure because she had produced an heir (Massie 171).

That Peter never impregnated any of the women he had affairs with suggests that he was impotent. Nevertheless, regardless of the extent of his relationships (or the limitations thereof) with other women, it is clear that Catherine intimidated him by her charm, intellect, and self-possession. There is no indication that Peter and Catherine ever became husband and wife physically; however, given Peter’s obvious immaturity and generally foolish behavior, the blame for the failed relationship fell on him. Doubtless,

Catherine’s charm and deliberate fostering of friendships within the Russian court helped to protect her image. Indeed, those friendships and other relationships would not only give Catherine additional children (with Stanislaw Poniatowski and Grigory Orlov), they would ultimately put her on the throne (which Orlov did in conjunction with Nikita

Panin) and assist her in governing Russia (Grigory Potemkin). Still, that Catherine was able to get away with widely recognized infidelity in providing an heir for the Russian throne underscores a profound difference in culture between Russia in the 1750s and

France in the 1770s.

Sexual Awkwardness in France

Like Catherine, Marie Antoinette did not fully consummate her marriage for several years. The degree of and reasons for Louis’ sexual failure early on were quite different from Peter’s. As discussed in Chapter 5, one reason for Louis’ failure was naivety. Another reason—and here Louis arguably bears a similarity to Peter—was a brutal tutor. Lever accuses the Duc de La Vauguyon of “castrating” Louis’ personality, causing him to believe himself unworthy of love and further teaching him that women were “the cause of all public and private evil” (15). Doubtless, when confronted with his charming and beautiful new wife, Louis’ cruel upbringing left him feeling inadequate in her presence and distrustful of her feminine charms, not to mention her heritage. When he did later fall in love with her, his fidelity would become as much a weapon in the hands of the pamphleteers as his grandfather’s profligacy did. Unlike in his grandfather’s time, however, the work of the pamphleteers would destroy the monarchy.

At Louis’ ascension, the French saw him as being emblematic of a new age on account of his youth and the purity of his marriage. They expected peace, tax relief, and—at least for the more intellectually qualified—inclusion in government (Lever 56).

However, Louis was as entirely unprepared for the role he was expected to play in government (55) as he was in the bedroom. As Joseph II would later write to his brother,

“He is badly brought up; . . . he is weak to those who know how to intimidate him . . . He has ideas, judgment, but is apathetic in body and mind” (qtd. in Lever 109). Joseph’s assessment of his brother-in-law would be echoed by the pamphleteers who initially latched onto Louis’ inability to produce an heir quickly and who linked his sexual

41 shortcomings to his political ones (Mason 241–2). Ultimately, Louis’ sexual inadequacies early in his marriage would become problematic for Marie Antoinette’s public image.

When Louis was portrayed as incapable sexually and politically, Marie Antoinette was cast as a frustrated sex fiend who was determined to ruin France (Thomas 110–1). As with Louis’ portrayal, the image of Marie Antoinette was based on a whiff of truth distorted for political ends.

Unlike Louis, Marie Antoinette was not crowned because unlike French kings,

French queens did not participate in government (Lever 72). Nevertheless, similar to

Louis, Marie Antoinette’s physical appearance would be given political meaning: her youth and beauty held the promise of reform. Still, the foundation of public approval on which Marie Antoinette stood was as shaky as the ancient regime. By the time of Louis’ ascension, Louis’ social and sexual awkwardness combined with Marie Antoinette’s failure to assimilate to the French court caused this lovely and graceful woman to withdraw more and more from public life (65). Her absence from the King’s side would leave her behavior open to misrepresentation.

In reality, Marie Antoinette’s private behavior was relatively innocent and certainly no worse than the behavior of the rest of the French court. While Marie

Antoinette was guilty of overspending, her expenses were consistent with life at

Versailles. Lever points out that life at court was costly: a person was expected to follow fashion, living luxuriously in accordance with one’s rank (29).12 And while it is true that

12 Steinberg references the assertion of power via display of wealth in his lectures as well.

42 in the early years of her marriage, Marie Antoinette was guilty of spending too much time with handsome noblemen rather than the King (68), biographers agree that her only actual affair was with Count Axel von Fersen—ironically, the one man with whom the pamphleteers never linked her. Still, Davies related that the period as a whole was “an age of easy scruples” (595), and Lever claims that the Versailles court was “the most corrupt court in Europe” (16). Therefore, even if Marie Antoinette had been involved in more romantic liaisons than she, in fact, was, the nobles who gossiped about her were engaging in rank hypocrisy to say anything about her sex life at all. As things stood,

Louis’ fidelity to Antoinette would ultimately be used against her. Because Louis did not take lovers whose influence would mitigate that of the queen (and thus spare her public criticism), Marie Antoinette—in the mind of the public—played the traditional role of the

King’s mistress, wielding exclusive influence over his decisions (Sheriff 52). The irony of this perception is that there is nothing in Marie Antoinette’s life that suggests she knew how to wield sexual power, much less that she ever attempted to do so. Rather, she preferred to avoid Louis’ clumsy advances when she could (Lever 113) and wished he would take a lover to gain some experience (94). Surely Catherine in a similar situation would have taken the opportunity to teach an eager lover how to please her; indeed, by the end of her life, she caused scandal by taking very young lovers whom she hoped to train in statecraft—and presumably less lofty arts as well.

Nevertheless, the fact remains that while Catherine had absolutely used her sexuality to attain power, Marie Antoinette absolutely had not. History would seem to indicate that Marie Antoinette’s scruples cost her more than a few evenings of pleasure.

CHAPTER 7

INTERLUDE: THE ENLIGHTENMENT AND THE PAMPHLETEERS

While the majority of this analysis has focused on the subjects from a Great

(Wo)Man perspective, it would be remiss to neglect the influence of the Enlightenment and its corruption into Revolution as a developing context on the lives and reigns of both

Catherine and Marie Antoinette. Catherine would benefit from the Enlightenment and its values of rational inquiry, hierarchy based on talent, literal co-educational friendship, and

“fidelity to truth” (Goodman The Republic of Letters 23); Marie Antoinette, however, would be tried by the Revolutionary tribunal, an institution whose corrupt values found their beginning in the writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau.

Dena Goodman’s The Republic of Letters: A Cultural History of the French

Enlightenment describes the Republic of Letters as a society that rose and was closely entwined with the modern political state—a society that values friendship based on reciprocal exchanges of ideas (2). In essence, the Republic of Letters became an alternative aristocracy, one which had not lost its sense of noblesse oblige. Indeed, while the Enlightenment began with the aristocracy, its society was open to social mobility. Its members challenged the notion of superiority based on the accident of birth, seeing themselves as the equals if not the superiors of those members of the nobility who saw their privileges as unquestionable while denying any responsibility toward society because of those privileges (37). Thus, in place of a hereditary aristocracy that disdained

44 work and obligation to society, the Republic of Letters implicitly proposed an aristocracy of thinkers who embraced work for the improvement of society.

Given its French context, perhaps the most striking feature of the Enlightenment is its inclusion of women. French thinkers of the eighteenth century took pride in their culture because of its sociability and politeness—the latter a value inherited from the nobility, whom Louis XIV had controlled through the imposition of a strict code of etiquette (Goodman 95). Most importantly, women were central to these men’s understanding of what it meant to be civilized (4). Indeed, Voltaire credited women with transforming France from barbarism to civilization in the years following the Wars of

Religion, and Montesquieu—whose work would so profoundly influence Catherine— also claimed that women were good governors because they lacked the martial spirit that many of the philosophes ascribed to men (7). In fact, the salons “substitut[ed] a female salonniére for a male king as the governor of its discourse” (5). Given the longstanding tradition of Salic law, this substitution was a cultural revolution of sorts. The role of the salonniére was precisely to keep the men focused on the work at hand—the exchange of ideas and the exercise of the critical spirit—rather than devolving into quarrels, as they were wont to do because of French educational culture (91). In other words, in the parallel society of the Republic of Letters, the divisions and jealousies that plagued the court were kept at bay by the salonniére, exactly in opposition to Louis XIV’s imposition of court etiquette. Already, then, the Republic of Letters became a practice ground for an alternative form of society—one that would function productively, unlike the court at

Versailles.

Women’s place in society was a matter of earnest discussion in the

Enlightenment. Blum quotes Otis Fellows in arguing, “The eighteenth century in Europe should be designated as a feminist age” (121). Because the Enlightenment rejected hierarchy based on tradition, the question of the role of women logically followed.

Moreover, thinkers criticized the frivolous lifestyles of upper-class women, and many blamed women’s upbringing and education for the frivolity and called for reform (121).

Montesquieu went so far as to denounce the “dominance” of men over women as “a real tyranny,” claiming that men’s unreasonableness with regard to their treatment of women was responsible for women’s lack of courage (qtd. in Blum 121–2). Similarly, Choderlos de Laclos called on women to throw off the oppression of men and thus to free themselves from “debasing . . . vices” (qtd. in Blum 122). Indeed, the salonniéres did just that: Goodman makes clear that these women were “intelligent, self-educated, and educating women who adopted the values of the Enlightenment Republic of Letters” to meet their own needs (76). However, as Marso writes, “The work of J. J. Rousseau . . . set in motion changing conceptions of the roles of women” (46).

Although he is often considered a member of the Enlightenment, Rousseau seems like a misfit. Voltaire thought little enough of him that he wanted to rescue France from his influence (The Republic of Letters 51). Further, Rousseau’s misogynistic view of women contradicts the central institution of the Republic of Letters. Rousseau argued that the salons were “voluntary prisons” that threatened to emasculate men while making the salonniéres manly (qtd. in Marso 46). Oddly, Rousseau’s Confessions, which detail his sexual liaisons, idealize domineering women (qtd. in Steinberg 35; Blum 120). Thus,

46 there is a clear contradiction between Rousseau’s philosophical claims about the nature of women and his early relationships with them. Although Rousseau came to the

Enlightenment in middle age as a middle class man (Davies 6–7), his published hypocrisy and his betrayal of the salon institution that made his career connects him in spirit with the disingenuous nobles who patronized libelous pamphlets.

Rousseau’s insistence that women were truly inferior to men flew in the face of

Enlightenment thinking that had preceded him by one hundred years (Blum 122–3). His prescriptions that women be given no education other than in the practice of submission are radically backward, even for his own time. What is more, he implied that moral disorder at the societal level was due to women not doing their duty as he defined it: “Let mothers deign to nurse their children, [and] morals will reform themselves” [emphasis mine] (qtd.in Marso 46). In short, Rousseau’s attitudes toward women—that they have no purpose other than to serve, that they are by nature frivolous and incapable of serious thought, and that their “misbehavior” (i.e., doing anything other than serving their husbands and children within the home) threatened the moral fabric of society— rhetorically created an object upon which men’s fantasies could be imposed.

Rousseau’s betrayal of the Republic of Letters, however, was not limited to disagreement over the Woman Question. Davies reveals that in his Discours sur l’inégalité Rousseau “painted an idyllic vision of primitive man and blamed prosperity for all the ills of political and social relations” (607). Rousseau’s claims that civilization and women acting in the public sphere were corrupting forces that, in essence, caused man to fall from a state of grace, began “to create [the Rousseauean] myth of the solitary

47 seeker of truth, the lone man of virtue in a corrupt world” (Goodman 39). To a disturbing degree, Robespierre would later take up Rousseau’s mantle in his Republic of Virtue

Speech. Thus it is in Rousseau that the misogynistic, mythmaking aspects of what would become the Terror have their roots. Of course, however, Rousseau was not the only chauvinistic mythmaker of the period. Those most directly responsible for the murder of

Marie Antoinette were the pamphleteers of the late monarchy and early Revolution.

In The Literary Underground of the Old Regime, Robert Darnton argues that many of the publishers of trash at the end of the monarchical age were embittered, unsuccessful writers who saw the Republic of Letters as being primarily an arm of the monarchy, and as such, as being an empty promise of upward social mobility (23).

However, this portrayal of the Enlightenment ignores several important points in the history of the Republic of Letters. While it is true that at the beginning of its history, many scholars were co-opted by the state in the latter’s formation of academies (The

Republic of Letters 20), they ultimately recognized that serving the state via the academy compromised their intellectual independence; hence, the project of the Encyclopédie (32).

Further, while it was true that “by the seventeenth century, printers had been incorporated into the guild system of the Old Regime” (Darnton 19), because the Republic of Letters wanted to maintain its integrity, most of the publishers of the Enlightenment were located just outside of France (22). A willingness to embrace such expense and inconvenience is odd behavior for a society beholden to the monarchy. Darnton claims, “Grub Street had no principles . . . It was a world of free-floating individuals . . . Hobbesian brutes struggling to survive” (22). Thus Darnton excuses the writers and publishers of the

48 libelous trash that would drive the radical elements of the Revolution: frustrated by their failure to achieve upward social mobility, the publishers of the anti-monarchical pamphlets looked to avenge themselves on the system of privilege that had failed to recognize their talents. However, Darnton’s argument takes into account neither individuals like Rousseau, who turned down government writing jobs and attacked his former friends in writing on more than one occasion (Goodman 35, 41), nor Mary

Wollstonecraft, who was a part of the Enlightenment, despite being a woman and despite being a member of the middle class.

Many of the pamphleteers came from the ranks of the nobility, whether of the sword or of the robe: they were the only members of French society who would have been privy to court gossip, literate, and connected to clandestine publishers. Indeed, one of the most notorious pamphleteers was Louis XVI’s cousin, the Duc d’Orléans Louis

Philippe Joseph.13 Chafing under resentment of an old perceived slight as well as any limit on his autonomy, this foolish man became caught up in the discontent that led to the

13 His venom was initially inspired by a perceived insult: he believed himself to be a great hero of the French navy while in actuality his incompetence had put the navy in danger. When he did not receive the honors he believed he deserved—instead, Marie Antoinette made fun of him for his vainglorious display of self after the battle in question—he attempted to undermine those who did not support him (Lever 194). His attempts made for thorny relations between the monarchs and his family, and he began to slander the Queen in retaliation. It is one of history’s great ironies that the man who did so much to contribute to the libel of Marie Antoinette and the downfall of the monarchy was, like Marie Antoinette, not motivated by political ambitions. In fact, like her, he was an intellectual and ontological lightweight: he enjoyed flouting public opinion for the mere sake of doing so, and when the Parisian magistrates flattered him to win his support as a prestigious supporter of their cause, he accepted their flattery as sincere and denounced his own cousin (195). In a stroke of poetic justice, Philippe Egalité, as he later styled himself, was guillotined on charges that were, in fact, untrue.

Revolution.14 For his own petty ends, he used his money to hire writers and speakers to influence the volatile French masses (Kelly 670). The true Revolutionaries who used his influence, however, had no illusions about his commitment to meaningful political change. Brissot wrote of him, “The prince was rather fond of conspiracies that lasted only twenty-four hours—any longer and he grew frightened” (qtd. in Kelly 671). The example of the Duc d’Orléans suggests that the noble patrons of the libelous pamphlets were often useful idiots in the hands of the frustrated bourgeoisie. Apparently, many of those involved in the publication of libel never dreamed that their own irresponsible disregard for the truth could be turned against them.

Clearly, those who urged reform from the Republic of Letters and those who drove the Revolution were diametrically opposed. Indeed, the pamphleteers and their noble patrons operated like an inversion of the Republic of Letters. Rather than working together to discover truth and then to reform society by way of knowledge, the pamphlet industry peddled malicious myths of its own making to destroy their political enemies.

Whereas the men of the Enlightenment embraced a civilized meeting of the minds and submitted to the influence of women to prevent their disagreements from destroying their society, Rousseau and others like him rejected society because society, by its nature, imposes limitations. Further, where the Republic of Letters sought to discover and disseminate truth for the good of society, Rousseau and the pamphleteers created their

14 He is quoted as having said, “I don’t give a damn what the Estates-General accomplish . . . I wanted . . . to give my vote to a law that would assure me . . . that whenever I wanted to leave for London, Rome, or Peking, nothing could get in my way. I couldn’t care less about the rest” (qtd. in Kelly 668).

50 own myths to soothe their own wounded vanity. That Catherine benefitted from the

Enlightenment while Marie Antoinette was victimized by its detractors was the result of whether or not each woman embraced or rejected the reforms it recommended.

CHAPTER 8

THE POWER OF PUBLIC OPINION

Peter’s Iconoclasm and Catherine’s Iconography

History has largely been discourteous to Marie Antoinette, a lovely, culturally

Austrian woman with little political power or influence. It is therefore ironic that history has largely exonerated the German princess Catherine II for seizing the Russian throne at the expense of her Romanov husband. Nevertheless, the judgment of history is not unreasoned: while Marie Antoinette and her husband did little to solve the problems

France faced, Catherine—seemingly single-handedly—not only retrieved Russia from the edge of bankruptcy, but also expanded Russian influence in Europe and began to actualize the dreams of Peter the Great. Still, in order to achieve what she did, Catherine had to succeed in the court of public opinion. Fortunately for her, her husband Peter III made this easier for her.

Both Peter and Catherine were German imports to give Elizabeth a dynasty.

However, Peter was a Romanov: his mother had been Peter the Great’s daughter and thus

Elizabeth’s sister. As noted in Chapter 4, despite the legacy of his grandfather, Peter III embraced his father’s Holstein heritage entirely, idolizing Frederick the Great rather than his own grandfather. To be fair to Peter, his conscription to the Russian court was carried out rather like an abduction (Massie 130). Moreover, when Elizabeth uprooted him, she also brought to the court the man who had been responsible for his care, a bestial man by the name of Otto von Brümmer. Therefore, from Peter’s perspective, he had had the

52 misfortune of never knowing his mother, of losing his father, of being brought up by a brute, and then of being removed from his home without the benefit of losing his cruel caregiver. While Peter’s behavior suggests that his personality was warped and that he was possibly mentally ill,15 it is worth recalling that his life had been horrible up to his relocation, and that his continued dependence upon Brümmer as well as upon Elizabeth’s volatile moods were unlikely to allow time for healing, to the extent that emotional healing was even possible. Nevertheless, regardless of the reasons for Peter’s behavior, his misbehavior—like that of Marie Antoinette—would cost him dearly.

As mentioned in Chapter 3, Peter arrived in Russia quite ignorant for his age and immature to boot (Massie 45). When Elizabeth made him a lieutenant colonel in the

Preobrazhensky Guards, Peter sneered at the honor, criticizing the style of the Russian uniforms as being inferior to those of Holstein and Prussia. This response was but a harbinger of Peter’s obsession with and preference for the Prussian forces above those who were bound to serve and protect him. From the early days of his life in Russia, Peter despised and as much as possible avoided everything Russian, from the language to the religion to the culture (47). Thus, much as Marie Antoinette’s open preference for the culture of her homeland over her adopted realm resulted in distrust and rejection, so

Peter’s disdain for the country he was one day to rule made him an easy target for political displacement.

15 I refer here to his hanging a rat as a war criminal that Catherine describes in her Memoirs (120).

Peter never did outgrow his preference for Prussian culture; his prejudice ultimately cost him the support of the Russian army. At the time of Elizabeth’s death,

Russia and Prussia were at war. Frederick was weakened, a third of his lands in enemy hands, and his army reduced to young recruits. Desperately wanting peace, he offered

Russia East Prussia in exchange for peace. Peter, however, relinquished all the conquests made by the Russian forces and tried to pressure Russia’s allies into doing the same. To make matters worse, rather than negotiating with Frederick regarding the terms of the alliance both men wanted, Peter allowed Frederick to set the terms (Massie 247–8). Thus, from the perspective of the Russians, men had fought and died for several years in vain.

Moreover, Peter’s sudden alliance with Prussia amounted to a betrayal of Russia’s allies

(250). Then, Peter ordered the Russian forces to begin an assault on Denmark, a war that served Holstein’s interests rather than Russia’s. It is not difficult to see why the army was ready to support Catherine when she chose to challenge Peter’s rule.

Peter not only offended the army, he also offended the leaders of the Russian

Orthodox Church (de Madariaga 25). Basing his decisions on those of Frederick II, an irreligious man, Peter secularized all church property and made church hierarchs employees of the state. Moreover, he demanded that all icons except those of Christ be removed from churches and that the clergy style their appearance after Prussia’s

Protestant pastors. The clergy protested that if they obeyed such commands, they would be murdered by their parishioners. In turn, Peter outlawed the Easter procession, leading to rumors that Peter was a pagan or a Protestant (Massie 244–5). Thus, Peter’s policies not only alienated the religious arm of Russian culture but also many of his subjects.

Although the clergy and the people were relatively powerless to defy Peter’s dictates, the army was not.

Still, Peter’s brief reign was not all disastrous. Indeed, like Marie Antoinette, he began with some political capital: as Marie Antoinette and her husband had been embraced for their youth, so Peter won instant acclaim as the first adult male to ascend to the throne in over a century (Dixon 118). Further, Peter excused nobles from mandatory state service, a policy that benefited both the nobility and the state (119). However, he more than spent his political capital by replacing Elizabeth’s Life Guards with Holstein officers and by forcing the Russians to parade in front of the Winter Palace daily. In short, his errors were iconoclastic in nature: he tried to make Russia over in Prussia’s image, and his iconoclasm was unforgivable in the eyes of the people. He worsened his image by removing the power of patronage over small government offices from the

Senate (121).

In addition to all of these strictly political mistakes, Peter had to contend with the

Russian economy, which had been destroyed by the Seven Years’ War. Indeed, Russian troops were owed more than 1.5 million roubles. Again, to be fair to Peter, he and his government had begun planning financial reform; however, most of their ideas would not make an impact immediately. Dixon reports that the reforms were effective, and that

Catherine actually reaped the benefit for decisions made by her estranged husband.

However, while Peter’s wise decisions were often not obvious, his foolish ones were on display for all to see. When Peter went ahead with plans to attack Denmark despite

Russia’s looming debt to her own troops, Nikita Panin began planning to remove Peter from the throne (Dixon 121).

As Peter acted like a man drunk on his own power, making foolish demands and openly disdaining his own wife in favor of a courtier lacking in sophistication, Catherine was carrying on a quiet affair with Grigory Orlov. The Orlov family culture was tied to the military: Grigory’s grandfather had been one of the streltsy condemned by Peter I, but he had been pardoned when he kicked a former colleague’s head off the executioner’s block, claiming that he needed to make room for himself (Massie 230). There were five young Orlov brothers, all of them influential in the army. Although there is nothing to prove that Catherine’s affair was calculated, her choice of lovers could hardly have been more suitable to the position in which she now found herself. Like Elizabeth before her,

Catherine found herself threatened with being sent away16 (Massie 254). While Elizabeth had appealed directly to the Russian troops herself—rousing them with a reminder of

“whose daughter [she was]” (38)—it was Grigory’s brother Aleksey who had recruited fellow Guards to help Catherine seize the throne17 (Dixon 122). Of course, given Peter’s treatment of the Russian forces, it is likely that the Orlovs’ task was not difficult. Still, the plotters involved in the coup were not entirely in agreement: Panin expected

Catherine to rule as regent for her son until he came of age. However, the Orlovs’

16 While Elizabeth was threatened with Holy Orders, Catherine was threatened with imprisonment. It was only the pleas of her uncle that spared her Peter’s drunken rage (Massie 254). 17 Dixon notes that Grigory was not directly involved in the plotting because he was concerned that Peter was having him watched.

56 management of the actual coup effectively prevented Panin’s plans of limiting

Catherine’s power (123). Once the event was underway, Catherine donned the uniform of the Guards and rode out ahead of the troops to arrest her husband, who, having heard that he had been deposed, fainted into the arms of his lover (124). Catherine’s coup—like her coronation ceremony—was a well-managed theatrical production for the benefit of her audience. A beautiful and courageous woman who identified with the Russian troops enough to wear their attire was a stark contrast to her husband whose words and policies had continuously insulted his own army. Nevertheless, Peter’s subsequent murder posed a serious political threat to Catherine’s regime.

Peter’s death at the hands of his wardens has often been attributed to Catherine’s orders, but as Dixon points out, Catherine’s involvement is unlikely. Firstly, Panin—the man who had begun orchestrating the coup—had wished to avoid violence altogether in the transfer of power; it is thus unlikely that he would suddenly become involved in an assassination plot, even if he had hoped to force Catherine into the position of regent rather than ruler (125). For Catherine, as inconvenient as Peter’s life may have been (His imprisonment still constituted a figure around whom discontents could rally as they had around other deposed rulers under previous regimes.), his death was far worse. Catherine was a usurper of the throne in no uncertain terms. Neither of the previous rulers had named her heir to the throne; thus, her assuming power was a daring move in the first place. However, deposing a legitimate ruler—no matter how unpopular that ruler may be—is one thing; assassinating a ruler is quite another. While Catherine could reasonably

57 hope to finesse public opinion as a ruler in place of her husband given his unwise behavior, his murder cast her as a monster, thus further undermining her already illegitimate claims to power. Indeed, many in Europe expected her to be overthrown in short order (12). Nevertheless, her coronation, a theatrical production that cast

Catherine—an adulteress and a usurper as well as a popularly suspected murderer—as a virgin queen was nothing short of audacious iconography. That she successfully carried off such a performance earned her the respect even of her foreign rivals18 (18). Thus from the beginning of her reign, Catherine proved herself an adept manipulator of public opinion. Her skill at creating political fiction for the perpetuation and preservation of her own power starkly contrast with Marie Antoinette’s political naivety. Indeed, Catherine would arguably have been a worthy rival of the pamphleteers who did so much to bring down the French monarchy.

Marie Antoinette as Profaned Icon

While Catherine seized the Romanov throne with no legitimate claim and got away with it, Marie Antoinette made no real attempt to gain power and was blamed for crimes ranging from treason to spendthrift behavior to lesbianism to incest. To be sure, time and culture played a hand: Catherine ascended the throne in 1762, and the Russian crown had far more control over publication than did the French in the days of the

Revolution. Indeed, as Goodman points out in her introduction to Marie Antoinette:

18 Dixon credits Catherine with winning the respect of Louis XV of France who acclaimed Catherine’s powers of dissimulation as evidence that she was “a princess capable of planning and executing great deeds” (18).

Writings on the Body of a Queen, “Marie-Anoinette was the first in France to live at a time when pamphlets and newspapers . . . were ready . . . to manufacture news if necessary to satisfy an avid reading public . . . .” (3). The fact is that Marie Antoinette, like her husband, was executed for crimes that never happened.

As detailed in Chapter 6, Marie Antoinette’s actual behavior was no worse than that of the corrupt nobility that surrounded her. Indeed, her behavior became emblematic of the corruption of the aristocracy. As discussed in Chapter 7, the aristocracy was not entirely corrupt. There were members within its ranks that recognized and rejected the entitled behavior of their class and who worked to reform the dysfunction inherent in the

Old Regime. To achieve this end, the Republic of Letters—that blended society of nobility and bourgeoisie—embraced bourgeois values of the dignity of work and education to challenge the corrupt values engendered by the belief in the divine right of kings and the divine right of the nobility which implicitly followed. While Catherine embraced and embodied these values and thus won political acclaim in France, Marie

Antoinette incarnated the corrupt values of the Old Regime and thus left herself vulnerable to the libels of the equally corrupt pamphleteers.

Given the role of a queen, especially in France, a frequent theme in Marie

Theresa’s letters is that of conjugal duty.19 Given the youth and the disregard of spontaneous attraction implied in the institution of royal European arranged marriage, it

19 See Maria Theresa to Marie Antoinette, 8 May 1771 (Bernier 62); Maria Theresa to Marie Antoinette, 2 June 1775 (163); Maria Theresa to Marie Antoinette, 17 January 1777 (210).

59 was not uncommon for young couples to struggle with intimacy early in marriage. Louis

XVI’s own parents did not consummate their marriage for six months (Lever 31). The problems the couple experienced are detailed in Chapter 6; however, from the perspective of wifely duty, Marie Antoinette failed Louis terribly. Her attitude toward him was condescending (92). Louis was not a stupid man, and he likely perceived her attitude, particularly after the incident of the clocks20 (Bernier 167). Considering the emotional baggage Louis brought to the marriage (detailed in Chapter 6), his wife’s disregard doubtless worsened the low sex drive multiple sources reference. Indeed, the Abbé de

Véri, a man deeply involved in the French court, recorded in his journal, “The King fears her rather than loves her, for he is never more . . . at ease than . . . [when] she is absent”

(qtd. in Lever 91). Marie Antoinette’s coolness toward her husband was chided repeatedly by both Mercy and Maria Theresa, but to no avail. Marie Antoinette chose to party rather than to behave as an enchanting young bride (93–4). Though Louis and

Marie Antoinette ultimately developed genuine affection for each other (Fraser 170),

Marie Antoinette had shirked her first duty as consort to the future king: she had failed to approach him as the tender, gracious bride her mother so desperately tried to make her.

Far more damaging to Marie Antoinette’s reputation was the negative feminine stereotype her lifestyle gave credence to: that of the empty-headed, noble, spendthrift floozy. As discussed in Chapter 7, the members of the Enlightenment were well aware of

20 One night, Marie Antoinette was particularly anxious to be alone with her friends, so she had all of the clocks in her rooms advanced by one hour so that the King would leave early. He did, and was quite astounded to find his attendants absent. Although Marie Antoinette and her friends found the story entertaining, many others did not.

60 the problems caused by women’s not being valued and thus educated as equals, and they were working to rectify the inequality. However, as Catherine’s life as well as the existence of the salonniéres demonstrates, noble women were not without recourse: indeed, Catherine models the Enlightenment ideal of an intellectually engaged woman who worked with Enlightened people to reform society. Marie Antoinette’s choice to avoid improving her mind and character is especially inexcusable in light of her mother’s and later her brother’s insistence that she stop behaving like the King’s mistress and start reading (Lever 105, 110–1). Unfortunately, Marie Antoinette blithely ignored their advice and in so doing provided support for Rousseau’s claim—later taken up by the pamphleteers and Revolutionaries—that women were frivolous creatures, entirely unsuited to either education or participation in society. In this, Marie Antoinette failed not only the monarchy, but French women as a whole. While the pamphleteers were irresponsible, inveterate liars, the queen foolishly gave them the ammunition they would use to bring down the monarchy.

CHAPTER 9

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

In some ways, Catherine was privileged by fate. Her homeland posed no threat to the realm into which she married; the tutor who provided her with maternal affection also conferred upon her a love of reading and learning; and she was a natural politician, able to make friends of former enemies. She was also, by her own admission, naturally charming and capable of bending men to her will. Catherine also benefitted from Russia’s more open-minded attitude toward female rulers. Nevertheless, a careful reading of her life—especially when contrasted with that of Marie Antoinette—reveals that Catherine’s good fortune was largely of her own making. This is not to say that Catherine never benefitted from circumstances she could not control; Elizabeth’s sentimental attachment to her family in memory of the suitor of her youth is a case in point. Still, the defining motifs of Catherine’s life would be hard work and maximizing opportunities.

Catherine was undoubtedly ambitious, and her ambition was the result of both nature and nurture. Catherine’s curiosity beyond the curriculum prescribed for her seems to be an innate trait, but the loving influence of her governess certainly developed a natural tendency. Catherine took seriously the value of improving her own mind and character from an early age. This task, originally undertaken for her own enjoyment, would pay dividends, winning her respect from others but also teaching her the art of statecraft.

Though at first Catherine’s political ambition could be misread as a trait inculcated by her mother, Catherine’s fidelity to principles marks a distinction between her ambition and her mother’s. Whereas Johanna had delusions of grandeur and betrayed the hospitality of Empress Elizabeth for the sake of attaining personal recognition,

Catherine’s ambition involved her subjects as well. Like her mother, Catherine intended to make a name for herself in history, but unlike her mother, she had a vision that included improving the lives of those for whom she was responsible.

Indeed, responsibility was one of Catherine’s defining traits. Like other effective rulers, Catherine saw herself as the first servant of the state. She put her own extensive study of philosophy at the service of Russia in her Nakaz and in her Enlightened policies such as providing an education for the nobility and loosening their obligations to enable them to pursue it. As a result, Russian culture flourished under Catherine and in the years following.

Still, for all Catherine’s ambition and sense of duty, she always remained entirely feminine in the best sense of the word. She made a point of putting others at ease even as she maintained absolute sovereignty. She valued laughter and conversation and art.

Moreover, she valued her sexuality and was not afraid to use her charms to her advantage. That said, there is nothing in her biographies that suggests that she used men; rather, even in the scandalous affairs of her old age, she tried to share with her young lovers some of the statecraft she had learned.

By way of contrast, initially, Marie Antoinette seems condemned by her own fate.

Despite her lack of political ambition, her Austrian heritage made her a person of

63 suspicion long before her arrival in France. Denied the attention of her mother, she received the affection she craved from a beloved governess; what she did not receive was a love of learning or the ability to concentrate. Her educational deficiencies as well as the rather casual but morally strict protocol of the Austrian court ill prepared her for the worldly court of Versailles that was her destiny. However, as in Catherine’s case, Marie

Antoinette’s life was largely the result of her own decisions. While she doubtless faced challenges that Catherine did not—the malicious underground publishing industry, for example—she was also given opportunities that she squandered.

Marie Antoinette, unlike Catherine, had no political ambition. Given France’s

Salic law, her lack of interest in wielding power should have been an advantage.

However, Marie Antoinette not only lacked ambition, she also lacked a sense of duty.

Even if she was expected not to participate in governing, a sensitive queen consort would take an interest in her husband’s concerns and at the very least try to understand them.

Moreover, Louis’ weakness of personality would have benefitted from a wife who treated him with compassion and respect and who was wise enough to support him as he learned to govern. While it is true that Louis was hardly material for romantic fantasies, he was a genuinely good man, and he loved his wife truly. That is more than many queens of the age could say of their husbands.

Surely Marie Antoinette’s initial problems stemmed from immaturity. She was, after all, only fourteen years old at the time of her wedding. However, another theme that runs through Marie Antoinette’s life is ignored advice. Repeatedly, her mother, her brother, Mercy, and the Comtesse de Noailles warned Marie Antoinette about the

64 importance of duty and the folly of her behavior. In return, Marie Antoinette dubbed de

Noailles “Madame Etiquette” and made her the butt of sarcastic jokes, and she simply ignored the rest. Even the libelous pamphlets, distorted as they were in their portrayal of her behavior should have given her pause. However, in Marie Antoinette’s mind, her position as queen gave her license to do as she pleased. She realized the consequences for her obstinacy too late.

None of the foregoing excuses the pamphleteers for their calumny. While Marie

Antoinette is certainly guilty of shirking her duty toward her husband and toward her new country, her behavior in no way justified the self-promoting libel of the pamphleteers.

Both parties bear responsibility for the horror that France would become: she for providing the unscrupulous malcontents with fodder, and they for the dehumanizing rhetoric that incited the bloodlust of the masses.

The lives of Catherine the Great and Marie Antoinette demonstrate the power of women for good or for ill. Though many of Marie Antoinette’s biographers claim that had the circumstances of her birth been bourgeois rather than imperial, she could have lived out her life in peace, they miss the point. Had Marie Antoinette not been a

Hapsburg, her life may not have been one of purposeless splendor, but it still would have been purposeless. Because she never developed her mind and her character, her life still would have been ruled by her whims. While the consequences for such ontological lightness would have been far less for her and for France, the fact remains that Marie

Antoinette would have wasted her life in pursuit of pleasure. Nevertheless, even her lack of substance had power—power enough to help radicalize the masses.

As women continue to move into positions of power, they would benefit from the deliberate study, not just of political philosophy or of business administration, but of the feminine exercise of authority. In the past, feminism consisted of demonstrating equality with a touch of competitiveness: anything men can do, women can do, and maybe even a little better. However, equality and competition dilute the effectiveness of true feminism.

Instead of letting men control the leadership narrative, women need to study other, successful women to learn how to wield power like women. The most successful women—from the hetairai to Cleopatra to Elizabeth to Catherine—have achieved their ends without every allowing anyone to forget that they were women. Indeed, humanity would benefit from the complementarity, as the members of the Enlightenment well knew.

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