However, the practical application of the arrangement was delayed to enable Lynar to go to Germany, where he intended to settle some urgent family matters. Actually, he took out a large quantity of precious stones in his baggage, the sale of which would be used to build up a “war chest” in case the regent should think of having herself proclaimed empress. During his absence, Anna Leopoldovna exchanged an encrypted correspondence with him, using the pretext to swear their reciprocal love and to determine what role the future countess of Lynar would play in the trio. Above each line, the regent’s letters contain various annotations indicating the true meaning of the message, duly transcribed by a secretary. “As regards Juliette [Julie Mengden], how can you doubt her [my] love and her [my] fondness, after all the signs that I have given you. If you like her [me], do not go on with such reproaches, if her [my] health is of any concern to you… Let me know when you are coming back, and enjoy the certainty that you have all of my affection, [I kiss you and I am very much yours] Anna.”1 Separated from Lynar, Anna Leopoldovna found it more and more difficult to put up with her husband’s reproaches. Never«101»
Terrible Tsarinas theless, needing comfort in the desert of her solitude, she allowed him to visit her in bed from time to time. But he would have to be satisfied with that - just an interim, before the return of the regent’s authentic bed-partner. The Prussian minister, Axel of Mardefeld, observer of the morals of the court of Rus sia, wrote to his sovereign on October 17, 1741, “She [the regent] has entrusted all matters to [her husband, Anthony Ulrich] so that she can devote her time more freely to leisure and entertainment, which renders him necessary, in a way. It remains to be seen whether she will rely on him the same way when she has a declared favorite.
Basically, she does not love him; thus he has had permission to sleep with her only since the departure of Narcissus [Lynar].”2 While she was struggling in this sentimental imbroglio, the men around her were only thinking about politics. After Buhren’s downfall, Munnich was given the title of Prime Minister, a reward of 170,000 rubles for services rendered, and the rank of second man in the empire after Anthony Ulrich, father of the child tsar.
However, this avalanche of benefices began to irritate Anthony Ulrich. He found that his wife had exaggerated in the display of gratitude towards a servant of the State who was very effective, certainly, but lowly of birth. He was joined in his criticism by other figures whose sensibilities had been wounded by this distribution of emoluments. Among those who felt they had been overlooked by those in power were Loewenwolde, Ostermann, and Mikhail Golovkin. They complained that they were being treated like subalterns, when in fact the regent and her husband were deeply indebted to them.
Obviously, the all-powerful Munnich was at the head of this gang. However, the field marshal suddenly took ill, and had to be confined to bed. Taking advantage of this timely indisposition, Ostermann was quick to move in, seeking to take over various portfolios and shunt aside his principal rival, giving orders in his
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One Anna after Another stead. Barely out of sickbed, Munnich tried to take control again - but it was too late. Ostermann was well-entrenched. He was not about to let go of anything, and Anna Leopoldovna, advised by Julie Mengden, decided that the moment had come for her to assert all her rights, with Ostermann standing behind her like a guardian angel. He proposed looking for international backing and even subsidies to support a “cleansing of the monarchy.” Confused negotiations were initiated in St. Petersburg with England, Austria, and Saxony for alliances that would go nowhere. But let’s admit it: nobody among the European diplomats had faith in Russia any more, caught as it was in cross currents.
The ship had no captain. Even in Constantinople, an unforeseen collusion between France and Turkey hinted at the possible recrudescence of bellicose inclinations.
Although they had been kept ignorant of developments in the sphere of foreign relations, the army officers suffered nonetheless from their fatherland’s obliteration and even humiliation, in international confrontations. The insolence and the whims of the Count of Lynar, who allowed himself every license since his marriage with Julie Mengden was concocted in the back rooms of the palace, finished off any little sympathy the regent might have preserved among the people and the middle nobility. The gvardeitsy (the men of the imperial guard) reproached her for scorning the military, and her humblest subjects were astonished that she was never seen walking freely about the city as all the other tsarinas had done. She was said to dislike the barracks as much as the street, and that she only had time for the salons. She was also said to have such an appetite for pleasure that she never bothered to fasten her clothes unless she was attending a reception; that way, she could get out of them more quickly when her lover came to visit her.
On the other hand, her aunt Elizabeth Petrovna, although
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Terrible Tsarinas most of the time confined in a kind of semi-voluntary, semiimposed exile far from the capital, had more taste for human interactions, simple and direct relations, and even reached out to the masses. Taking full advantage of her rare visits to St. Petersburg, this true daughter of Peter the Great was quick to show herself in public, traveling about on horseback or in an open carriage in the city; and she would respond to the public’s greetings with a gracious wave of the hand and an angelic smile. Her approach was so natural that, when she was passing by, everyone felt authorized to shout out his joy or his sorrow to her, as if she were a sister of charity. It was said that soldiers on leave would go up to the sides of her sleigh to murmur a compliment in her ear. Among themselves, they called her Matushka, “little mother”; she knew that, and was proud to consider it an additional title of nobility.
One of the first to have detected the tsarevna’s discreetly rising star among the ordinary people and the middle aristocracy was the French ambassador, the marquis de La Chetardie. He very quickly understood the advantages he could derive for his country and himself by winning Elizabeth Petrovna’s confidence, and even friendship.
He was assisted in this campaign of diplomatic seduction by the princess’s designated doctor, a Hanoverian of French origin, Armand Lestocq, whose ancestors had settled in Germany after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. This man, about 50 years old, skilled in his art and absolutely amoral in his private conduct, had been introduced to Elizabeth Petrovna when she was only an obscure young girl, flirtatious and sensual. The marquis de La Chetardie often called upon him to try to penetrate the tsarevna’s varying moods and the shifting public opinion in Russia. What stood out, in Lestocq’s comments, was that unlike the women who had preceded her at the head of the country, this one found France very attractive. She had learned French and even “danced
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One Anna after Another the minuet” in her childhood. Although she read very little, she appreciated the spirit of that nation that was supposed to be courageous, and at the same time, rebellious and frivolous. She surely could get over the fact that, in her early youth, she had been offered in marriage to Louis XV, before being offered (without any greater success), to the prince-bishop of Lubeck and finally to Peter II, who had died prematurely. The mirage of Versailles continued to dazzle her, despite the many disappointments in love that she had suffered. Those who admired her grace and her expansive exuberance, as she entered her thirtieth year, claimed that in spite of her plumpness she “made men hot,” that she her skirt was very light and that, in her vicinity, one had the sensation of being surrounded by French music. The Saxon agent Lefort wrote, with a mixture of respect and impertinence, “It seems that she was, indeed, born for France, as she likes only superficial glitter.”3 For his part, the English ambassador Edward Finch, while recognizing that the tsarevna was very spirited, judged her “too fat to conspire.”4 However, Elizabeth Petrovna’s penchant for the French refinements of fashion and culture did not keep her from reveling in Russian rusticity when it came to her nightly pleasures. Even before she held an official position at her niece’s court, she took as her lover a Ukrainian peasant who had been named cantor in the choir of the palace
