December 18 is the 300th anniversary of Elizabeth’s birth. Lev Berdnikov looks back on the empress’ infamous obsession with fashion...
the iron-fisted fashionista
how in the world did the extremely spartan Peter the Great produce a daughter with a passion for fashion so legendary it verged on the maniacal? Elizabeth constantly spoke of her unwavering devotion to her father’s reforms, and promptly reinstated his bans on growing beards and wearing ugly, old-fashioned clothes, but there the similarities ended.
Although Elizabeth occasionally took scissors to the hair of her ladies-in-waiting, one should hesitate before drawing any parallels to Peter the Great’s personally shaving off the beards of his noblemen. Their motives were profoundly different. Peter was determined to transform his countrymen into “civilized” Europeans, while Elizabeth was intent on answering one of life’s persistent questions: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who is the fairest one of all?” As one can imagine, there was only one satisfactory response. She outlawed extravagant clothing, strictly prohibiting dresses made of fabric costing more than about five rubles a yard. (Of course almost all Russian rulers were fond of edicts of this type.) But to no avail.
According to the 18th century historian Mikhail Shcherbatov, Elizabeth’s court was “arrayed in cloth of gold, her nobles satisfied with only the most luxuriant garments, the most expensive foods, the rarest drinks, the largest number of servants, and they applied this standard of lavishness to their dress as well. … Imitating the upper classes became popular, and a man commanded respect only in accordance with the magnificence of his home and attire.” Elizabeth herself was known as “the Russian lady in French heels” and she insisted on an exclusively French wardrobe. In fact, she could not bear the sight of Russian peasant clothes on anyone. Here, at least, she and her father were in full agreement.
Nineteenth century historian Leonid Trefolev published an entire article on the topic: “The Foppery of Empress Elizabeth,” and included as evidence a copy of a bill from one of her majesty’s shopping sprees. Trefolev questioned whether the average Russian would recognize anything of Peter (famous for being badly dressed) in his daughter and her court, prancing about in their finery.
an obsession with fashion does not materialize on its own. Children develop a taste for luxury by watching the examples set by others. Peter the Great was too preoccupied with the expansion of his empire to pay much attention to his daughter’s upbringing. Therefore, the blame for Elizabeth’s infatuation with her appearance must be laid at the feet of her mother, Catherine I, Peter’s beloved “Katerinushka,” who, as she grew older, forbade her ladies-in-waiting from wearing jewelry, or dresses made of golden cloth. It is easy to see in her mother’s actions a foreshadowing of Elizabeth’s later manifestos on dress.
Elizabeth’s main interest, even as a child, was her appearance. In 1717, as an eight-year-old, she greeted her father’s return from abroad wearing an opulent Spanish costume. The French envoy noted, for the historical record, that she looked fantastic. She was fond of appearing at her father’s assemblies in multicolored, embroidered dresses, with diamonds sparkling in her hair. A famous portrait of her as a child shows Elizabeth dressed to the nines and wearing a pair of wings (popular in children’s fashion of the time) attached to her back.
“Her youth passed by and taught her nothing,” commented one historian about Elizabeth. It is true that the academic and moral education of the tsar’s daughter was quite uneven. It succeeded, however, in teaching her to dance, to have lovely manners, and to speak and read perfect French. Her father, of course, complained that modern children had it too easy. Why, in his day, he hadn’t had such nice books to read; he hadn’t even had teachers!
Linguistically and culturally, Elizabeth was groomed from childhood to marry into French high society. After visiting the court of the young Louis XV in 1717, her father became particularly fixated on acquiring the boy-king as a son-in-law. But this match fell through despite Peter’s best diplomatic efforts. So he cast about for one French nobleman after another. At various times, Elizabeth was offered to the Duke of Chartes; the French ambassador in Russia, Jacques de Campredon; and the Duke of Bourbon, among others. All these marriage plans came to naught, but the fervor for all things French never left her, and explained much of the Gaullic mania that gripped her court throughout her life.
But despite her education, Elizabeth Petrovna was not French. She was Russian, and according to the eminent Russian historian Vasily Klyuchevsky, she possessed a remarkable ability to synthesize European and Russian cultures. Sometimes she managed this in the same day. A devout churchgoer, she might squeeze in a glittering ball in the evening, after an Orthodox vespers service, and still make it to matins the next morning (before presumably collapsing into bed). She demanded to be informed about every detail of Parisian court dinners and galas, but was also an expert on traditional Russian dishes. An avid dancer, no one was her equal at either the minuet or the Russian folk dances she loved.
after peter the great’s death, his successors, Peter II and Empress Anna, continued the search for a suitable husband for Elizabeth. And with her reputation for strikingly good looks, there was no shortage of eager, potential beaus. One contemporary described her as “blond, not too tall … with a tendency toward plumpness, but with a fine figure, a sweet, round face, a wonderful complexion, languishing blue eyes, and marvelous décolleté. … She has a very playful mind … and a liveliness that makes her seem silly. … She speaks superb French and passable German. Her love for all things brilliant makes her seem very French.” In addition, she was wonderfully well-dressed, a nimble and entertaining conversationalist, and an elegant dancer. When the Chinese ambassador was asked, at one of Elizabeth’s receptions, what lady there he found most charming, he of course named the empress. Interestingly, he then criticized her eyes as being too large, a slight imperfection which, of course, Occidentals counted as an asset.
Surely no other spinster ever had her hand promised to so many men. Catherine I arranged for her daughter to marry Karl Augustus, the brother of Duke Karl Friedrich of Holstein, but the intended groom suddenly passed away in the summer of 1727. Aspirants to Elizabeth’s heart also included Prince George of England, the Infant Manuel of Portugal, the Infant Don Carlos of Spain, Duke Ernst Ludwig von Braunschweig, the well-known dandy Maurice de Saxe, Prince Ferdinand of Courland, and Nadir Shah of Persia. Elizabeth was wooed by Ivan Dolgorukov; and Ernst Johann von Biron, the Duke of Courland, had a strong desire to wed her to his son Peter. The wily Russian chancellor Andrei Osterman devised a plan to marry Elizabeth to her own nephew, Emperor Peter II, but dropped the scheme after encountering opposition from the Orthodox Church, which considered the proposed union to be consanguineous.
Fortunately for the security of Elizabeth’s position in court, Peter II remained infatuated with the aunt he had almost married, and for a long time he protected her from the intrigues and schemes of the powerful Dolgorukov family. However, he took offense when the flirtatious Elizabeth began collecting favorites. (The term “favorite” is usually used to describe paramours of the powerful, but Elizabeth was, in fact, quite weak politically.) Her first, Alexander Buturlin, Peter II removed from court. Elizabeth next chose Semyon Naryshkin. Adding insult to injury, Naryshkin was a close relative, just like the rejected monarch.
History has provided us with an interesting record of young Elizabeth’s tastes in men. A letter from her close friend and confidante, Mavra Shepeleva, paints a picture of one potential swain: “Oh Ma’am, is Prince Ordov cute! I really didn’t think he would be so good-looking. He’s tall and skinny like Buturlin. He’s got big eyes the same color as yours and dark eyebrows and eyelashes. He’s got hair like Naryshkin’s got. … His face is real pink, with nice white teeth and red lips… He walks around like he’s a king and he ain’t fat yet cuz he’s only 19 and he’s still got lots of long hair. I think his hands look kinda like Buturlin’s.” Historian Yevgeny Anisimov assures us that this letter is a reliable indicator of “the kinds of things Elizabeth and her friends spent their time thinking about,” and that their heads were “full of nothing but entertainment, fashion trends, and amorous adventures.” To paraphrase the old adage by Ivan Krylov (the famous writer of fables) about the superficiality of physical attraction—beauty may be only skin deep, but these women had no interest in looking any further.
Elizabeth chose another favorite during the reign of Empress Anna, a personal page named Alexei Shubin, whom Anna promptly exiled to Siberia, seemingly for no purpose other than to upset her very attractive cousin. Elizabeth poured out her grief in verse:
I have no power to end this pain.
My heart is broken, all help’s in vain.
Cruelly parted, my love’s departed,
Our love – doomed, alas, this ache will never pass.
Forever in my heart
The writer and historian Kazimir Valishevsky had a disparaging term for this sort of amateurish scribbling. He called it “imperial poetry,” emphasizing the lack of talent required to write it. And although the historian Yevgeny Pchelov assures us that this is a true expression of “the depth of her sincere emotions” most of us are likely to remain unmoved by this artificial merger of French and Russian literary styles.
After Shubin’s exile, Elizabeth quickly fell in love again. This time the object of her desire was a Ukrainian choirboy, the son of a shepherd. His name was Alexei Razumovsky, and Elizabeth freely admitted that his looks attracted her more than his voice. Their dalliance went on for quite a while, and there were rumors that the quixotic Elizabeth may actually have married him in a secret ceremony. However, as the historian Anatoly Madorsky notes, “married or not, she saw no obstacles to her other infatuations.” Other favorites of hers from that time included Ivan Shuvalov (see Russian Life, Nov/Dec 2007) and Nikita Beketov.
Elizabeth was remarkably generous to her boyfriends, even former ones. She seemed genuinely grateful for the moments of happiness they had given her. Once she ascended the throne, she made Alexander Buturlin a count and promoted him to field marshal, lieutenant colonel of the Preobrazhensky Regiment, and awarded him Russia’s highest civilian and military honor, the Order of St. Andrew. Semyon Naryshkin became a chamberlain, marshal of the court, grand master of the hunt, and was awarded the Order of St. Andrew. Alexei Shubin became a major general upon his return from Siberia. But Alexei Razumovsky was spoiled more than any of the others. He became a count, grand master of the hunt, holder of the Order of St. Andrew, lieutenant colonel of the Life Guards, lieutenant captain of the Life Guards, field marshal, and much more.
elizabeth’s appetite for all the trappings of the good life had been held in check by the disapproval of Empress Anna during her reign, and then during the regency of Grand Duchess Anna Leopoldovna (ruling in the name of her infant son, Emperor Ivan VI). But once Elizabeth assumed power in 1741, she made up for lost time.
“Women at her court thought about nothing but their clothes,” remembered Catherine II, wife of Elizabeth’s nephew, the future Emperor Peter III. “They changed their clothes at least twice a day, and the rest of their time was spent playing games and grooming themselves.”
Elizabeth led the way, owning 15,000 dresses, 1,000 pairs of shoes, and hundreds of bolts of the most expensive fabric. The empress changed her clothes seven times a day, and none of her court was permitted to appear at official balls or receptions in the same outfit twice. Guards at these events went so far as to stamp guests’ clothes with special ink to ensure that what the attendees were wearing would never make a second appearance. Every time the latest Parisian imports arrived in Russia, they were required to make their first stop in Elizabeth’s court. After choosing what she wanted (and paying the merchants surprisingly little for all their trouble) she then permitted the vendors to go and sell the remainder of their goods to everyone else in the country. Penalties for violating this ordinance were quite severe; at least one woman was arrested for cutting in line before the tsarina, as it were. Empress Elizabeth was not a woman to be trifled with.
The blessing of great beauty led to the inescapable curse of narcissism. As Vasily Klyuchevsky put it, “Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off herself.” But others fell under her spell as well. “She was mesmerizing to look at,” raved Catherine II about her regal “auntie.” “It was hard to tear yourself away. She was truly unique.”
Elizabeth loved to stage what she called “metamorphoses,” at which cross-dressing was mandatory for all attendees. Men were put in gowns with enormous hoop skirts, and women dressed in suits. Not coincidentally, men’s suits were wonderfully flattering to Elizabeth’s figure, but most of the other guests looked ridiculous, ugly, or both.
Elizabeth’s tyranny over her social circle was quite heavy-handed at times. Once, she forced all the ladies of her court to shave their heads and wear ugly black wigs, all because some ink in Elizabeth’s blonde hair could not be removed and had to be cut out. The empress’s attendants all submitted to this humiliation, but sobbed openly while enduring it. Another time, she forced these women to put on short, pink skirts on top of mini-hoopskirts, and then to wear even shorter pleated coats made of white taffeta, and to top everything off with white hats, lined in pink taffeta, which were raised up on the sides and pushed down over their eyes. Catherine II concluded, “Trussed up like this we looked like lunatics, but we had no choice.”
as she grew older, Elizabeth found it unbearable to hear compliments about any other woman’s physical appearance, and out of pure spite would persecute any court attendants who were even remotely pretty. Heaven help the lady who dared appear in Elizabeth’s court dressed attractively or wearing some eye-catching bauble. Many gowns, ribbons, and hairdos were simply attacked with scissors.
Catherine II recalled an instance concerning the wife of the empress’s old beau, Semyon Naryshkin, a woman whom the empress particularly loathed for her beauty, lovely figure, and the general air of grace and refinement with which she carried herself. The little ribbon ornament Maria Naryshkina was wearing was subjected to Elizabeth’s scissors that day, in front of everyone at court. Another time, the empress took it upon herself to relieve two ladies-in-waiting of some of their curls, on the pretext that she disliked that particular hairdo. Both victims claimed that a fair amount of skin was taken along with the hair. Naturally, it was unthinkable to make an appearance in the same dress or accessory as Elizabeth. A certain Natalya Lopukhina who made that mistake suffered a variety of corporal punishments, including being publicly lashed across her face.
Elizabeth considered herself to be the most elegantly dressed woman in Europe, and any perceived slight about her wardrobe was particularly galling to her. Especially upsetting were comments by foreigners, usually patronizing Frenchmen, to the effect that even great wealth and splendor could not make up for the absence of taste and refinement in the Russian court. Most offensive of all was Ludwig XV, who insulted one lady of Elizabeth’s court by saying, “Your outfit is so ridiculous today you might as well be a Russian tsarina!” These venomous words soon reached Elizabeth’s ears and resulted in a cooling of Russo-French relations.
Toward the end of her reign, the health of the iron-fisted fashionista began to decline. She suffered from frequent fainting spells, and no remedies dreamed up by her perfumers and beauticians seemed to help. The devotee of grand galas and balls now appeared more and more rarely at social events. Foreign envoys in the capital reported that she hated to be reminded of business affairs, and that it could take her six months to get around to signing her government orders and correspondence. A superstitious woman by nature, she was terrified of death, and forbade the use of the word in her presence. When a raging thunderstorm opened up above Tsarskoe Selo in the fall of 1761, Elizabeth saw it as a very bad omen. And in perhaps a fitting show of symbolism, this “happy tsarina” (as the poet Alexei Tolstoy described her) departed this world on the most festive of holidays, Christmas Day, 1761.
Yevgeny Anisimov described for us her final regalia. At her funeral she lay “in a magnificent silver robe with lace sleeves and with a gold crown on her head. She left this world for the next truly dressed to kill.” RL
7 YEAR BATTLE: Shortly before the outbreak of the Seven Years War in August 1756, Elizabeth suffered a stroke. For the next six years, court politics were dominated by her declining health (she sufferd a second, debilitating stroke in 1757), and Russia’s participation in the war alongside France and Austria, against Prussia.
Russian Life is a publication of a 30-year-young, award-winning publishing house that creates a bimonthly magazine, books, maps, and other products for Russophiles the world over.
Russian Life 73 Main Street, Suite 402 Montpelier VT 05602
802-223-4955
[email protected]
