Deconstructing Dashkova

born March 17, 1743

Yekaterina Romanovna Dashkova had a talent for misfortune. Her life was constantly being knocked off course, took many dramatic twists and turns, and left her in the dirt more than once. But every time, she would get up, dust herself off, and journey on, head held high. As a result, a marvelous mythology grew up around her, fed by the energetic efforts of this exceptional woman and her many sincere admirers.

What do we know about Dashkova? We know that she helped Catherine the Great attain the throne through her active involvement in the conspiracy to overthrow Peter III, only to suffer the Empress’ cruel ingratitude. She left the court for many years, traveled, dazzled Europe with her charm and erudition, and then returned and became the first (and to this day, the only) woman to head the Russian Academy of Sciences and the St. Petersburg Academy of Arts and Sciences.

“She was born for greatness and demonstrated this by standing at the forefront of revolution at the tender age of 18; later, over the course of 20 years, she headed two Academies,” gushed one of her contemporaries.

But here we should pause for just a moment. We know of the tremendous, almost decisive role Dashkova played in Catherine’s ascension to power from an extremely detailed but questionable source – Dashkova’s own memoirs. Catherine has a different version of events. She rather mockingly describes how she provided her young friend an outlet for her abundant energy by allowing Dashkova to agitate on her behalf in high society salons. When it came to actually persuading the Imperial Guards to ally themselves with Catherine and organizing the coup, the inexperienced teenager was kept at arm’s length. Dashkova’s own admission that she was amazed to learn after the coup that Grigory Orlov was Catherine’s favorite serves as indirect evidence of this. She could not have been much of an insider if she did not even know about her close friend’s infatuation.

Dashkova became head of the Russian Academy only when she was an older and wiser woman, with a great deal more knowledge and experience. The historian Nikolai Pavlenko writes, “The scholarly achievement of Dashkova and the collective under her direction consisted in the fact that in a short period of time – six years – they produced the Dictionary of the Russian Academy. It should be noted that it took the French Academy six decades to produce an analogous work.” Reluctant as we are to argue with one of the foremost authorities on eighteenth century Russia, the question nevertheless arises – if one dictionary is put together in six years and another in 60, what does that say about the one that was produced so quickly? And even if it is a scholarly achievement, can it truly be credited to Yekaterina Romanovna? Perhaps the scholars who actually compiled the dictionary are the ones who deserve our admiration.

Dashkova herself describes how intimidated she was when she was asked to head the Academy and claims she tried to refuse, citing her lack of qualifications. In her memoirs she said she was taught four languages, drawing and dancing, and “we had elegant and courteous manners, and therefore it is not surprising that we were considered excellently brought up young ladies.” But was this enough to head the Academy of Sciences?

True, there are also stories about the impression Dashkova made on Western Europeans, Diderot in particular. But the great philosopher was famous for singing the praises of anyone who might be capable of enhancing his financial well-being. As far as her appearance was concerned, his assessment was rather devastating: “The Princess Dashkova is not at all good looking; she is short; her forehead is large and high; her cheeks are fat and puffy; her eyes are neither large nor small and are rather deeply set; her nose is rather flat; her mouth is large; her lips are fat; her teeth are bad. She has no waist whatsoever and lacks all grace and nobility, but she is extremely amiable.” We have to assume that these infelicities were compensated for by her exceptional mind. Nevertheless, it is unlikely that Dashkova would have appreciated Diderot’s description.

What else do we know about her life? That she married young and adored her husband. Here too, it appears, things were not as ideal as Yekaterina Romanovna made them out to be. Rumor had it that the brilliant officer Mikhail Dashkov went a bit overboard showering flattering pleasantries on the young Katya Vorontsova (Dashkova’s maiden name), the niece of Russia’s powerful chancellor. The young lady took him at his word and informed her uncle that she had just been asked for her hand in marriage. Dashkov did not dare to object, and thus the “happy” union came about. The husband would go long stretches without seeing his wife and almost bankrupted her with his extravagance and carousing.

There were two children. The son, Pavel, was an object of particular affection and Dashkova spent years doting on him. She accompanied him on his travels through Europe and even attended class with him at Edinburgh University, where he was a student. She hints at concerns she had about returning to Russia, since Pavel was so handsome and was in danger of winding up in the shameful position of becoming one in the series of the Empress’ favorites. It is not inconceivable that young Dashkov himself would not have objected to such an arrangement. He was just as inclined toward carousing and dissipation as his father, and found his mother’s relentless tutelage oppressive. Dashkova was constantly forced to pay her son’s enormous debts. As a reward, he did not even tell her when he married a girl from the merchant class – she heard about it from third parties.

The discerning and enlightened Yekaterina Romanovna schemed to marry her daughter off to a man who was virtually insane, in hopes that his melancholic temperament would calm the girl’s wild nature. As a result, Anastasia Dashkova divorced her husband and exhibited such wild behavior that her mother disowned her. Dashkova’s last will and testament even forbade Anastasia from approaching her coffin.

One gets the impression that decades of Dashkova’s life were consumed by sorrow. Both during and after her husband’s lifetime, she paid his debts; she traveled through Europe after the Empress turned against her; she stayed on her estate after losing the political influence she once enjoyed, where, to the Empress’ great satisfaction, her energies were consumed by battles with her neighbor, whose pigs were eating Dashkova’s flowers. Later, she was forced into exile by Emperor Paul, who, like many, believed that Dashkova was at the heart of the conspiracy against his father (Peter III). In her final years, depressed by reports of her children’s behavior, she consoled herself with money lending, bargaining over every kopek, and reminiscences of her encounters with great people, whom she described as she saw fit.

“She helps the masons erect walls, clears the roads and feeds the cows herself, composes musical plays, writes articles for the press, and loudly corrects the priest in church if he deviates from the rules, and in the theater she interrupts the actors and teaches them how they should perform their roles. The princess is doctor, apothecary, feldscher, merchant, carpenter, judge, and administrator all rolled into one,” is how one of Dashkova’s contemporaries described her in her later years. You can admire the energy of this woman who staunchly refused to recognize defeat, but can someone who corrects the priest and interrupts actors really inspire affection?

But in the end, Yekaterina Romanovna got what she wanted – the self-portrait she left for posterity lives on.

READ ON: Dashkova’s memoirs, written in French, have been translated into English 

and published by Duke University Press (1995)