fines; she raised the octroi taxes and encouraged settlement by foreign colonists to populate the uninhabited regions of southern Russia. But these strictly administrative measures did not ease her main worry.
How could she ensure the future of the dynasty? What would become of the country if, for one reason or another, she had to “pass on the torch”?
Since she did not have a child of her own, she was deeply afraid that after she died - or as a result of some conspiracy - the young ex-tsar Ivan VI, now dethroned, would succeed her. For the moment, the baby and his parents were safely tucked away in Riga. But they were liable to come back into favor some day, through one of those political upheavals that had become so common in Russia. To preclude any such possibility, Elizabeth could
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Elizabeth’s Triumph only think of one possible course of action: she would have to name an heir now, and have him be accepted. However, the candidates were few and the choice seemed apparent: the only appropriate recipient of this supreme burden was the son of her deceased sister Anna Petrovna, the young prince Charles Peter Ulrich of Holstein-Gottorp.
The boy’s father, Charles Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp, had died in 1739; now the orphan, who was about 14 years old, had been placed under the guardianship of his uncle, Adolf Frederick of Holstein, Bishop of Lubeck. After making initial inquiries about the child’s fate, Elizabeth had never really dealt with him.
She suddenly felt obliged to make a sacrifice to the family spirit and to make up for lost time. As for the uncle-bishop, there could be no problem. But what would she say to the Russians? Oh well, this would hardly be the first time that a sovereign who was three-fourths a foreigner would be offered for their veneration! As soon as Elizabeth set her mind to this plan, committing the entire country to support her, secret negotiations began between Russia and Germany.
Despite the usual precautions, rumors of these talks quickly spread through the foreign ministries all across Europe. La Chetardie panicked and hunted around desperately for a way to head off this new Germanic invasion. Surmising that certain portions of the public would be hostile to her plan, Elizabeth decided to burn her bridges: without informing Bestuzhev or the Senate, she dispatched Baron Nicholas Korf to Kiel in order to bring back the “heir to the crown.” She did not even bother to make inquiries beforehand to find out how the youth had turned out. As the son of her beloved sister, he would have to have inherited the most delightful personality and visual characteristics. She looked forward to this meeting with all the emotion of an expectant mother, impatient to lay eyes on the son that Heaven was about to pres ent
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Terrible Tsarinas to her after a long gestation.
Baron Korf conducted his mission with such discretion that Peter Ulrich’s arrival in St. Petersburg on February 5, 1742, almost went unnoticed by the hangers-on at the imperial Court. Seeing her nephew for the first time, Elizabeth, who had been prepared to feel a lightning bolt of maternal admiration, froze in consternation. In place of the charming adolescent Adonis that she had expected, here stood a skinny, scowling, runty fool who only spoke German, could not put two thoughts together, had a habit of laughing in an insinuating way and walked about with the look of a cornered fox. Was this the gift that she was about to spring upon an unsuspecting Russia?
Stifling her dismay, Elizabeth showed a good face to the newcomer, awarded him with the medal of St. Andrew, and appointed tutors to teach him Russian; and she asked Father Simon Todorsky to instruct him in the basics of the Orthodox religion, which would be his from now on.
Russia’s Francophiles were already concerned that the admission of the crown prince to the palace would strengthen Germany’s hand against France in the contest for influence. The Russophiles, clearly xenophobic, were disturbed that the tsarina still retained certain prestigious military leaders of foreign origin like the prince of Hesse-Homburg and the English generals Peter de Lascy and James Keith. Now, such high level emigres, who had clearly demonstrated their loyalty in the past, should have been above suspicion. One had to hope that sooner or later, in Russia as elsewhere, common sense would prevail over the proponents of extremism. Unfortunately, this viewpoint was not very widespread.
La Chetardie’s minister, Amelot de Chailloux, was certain that Russia was “sliding from their grasp;” to reassure him, La Chetardie reaffirmed that despite appearances “France enjoys a
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Elizabeth’s Triumph warm welcome here.”5 But Amelot did not have La Chetardie’s reasons for succumbing to Elizabeth’s charms. He did not see Russia as a power to be treated as an equal anymore; and he considered that it would be dangerous to count on the promises of a ruler as fickle as the empress. His hands tied by his recent commitments to Sweden, he preferred not to have to choose between the two and sought to stay out of their dispute, thus compromising his future neither with St. Petersburg nor with Stockholm.
France prayed that the situation would resolve itself, and in the meantime played both sides of the game, making plans to bolster Sweden by arming Turkey and by supporting the Tatars against Ukraine; and all the while, Louis XV was assuring Elizabeth, via his ambassador, that he entertained feelings of fraternal understanding towards the “daughter of Peter the Great.” Despite the disappointing history of her relationship with Paris and Versailles, the tsarina gave in one more time to the seduction of that strange nation whose language and spirit were so alluring. Never forgetting that she had just missed being wed to this partner with whom she now wanted to sign a formal treaty of alliance, she refused to believe that France, ever so ready with a smile and ever so slick in getting away, could be playing a double game.
Her confidence in the promises of the French did not, however, prevent her from proclaiming that no threat, from any quarter, would ever force her to yield an inch of Russian soil for, she said, her father’s conquests were “more precious to her than her own life.” Having convinced her compatriots to accept her, she was now anxious to persuade the nearby states that she was firmly enthroned; and she believed that a formal coronation ceremony would do more for her international reputation than any gossip among diplomats. Once the religious solemnities in the Kremlin were over, no one would dare to dispute her legitimacy nor to confront her power. To lend further weight to the cere«137»
Terrible Tsarinas mony, she decided to bring along her nephew so that, in his role as recognized heir, he could attend the coronation of his aunt Elizabeth I. Peter Ulrich had just turned 14; he was old enough to understand the importance of the event that was so carefully being prepared.
More than a month before the beginning of the festivities in Moscow, all the palaces and embassies in St. Petersburg emptied out (as was the custom in such instances), flowing like a tide to the tsars’ old capital. An army of carriages took to the road, which was already threatening to soften in the waning winter. Some say there were 20,000 horses and 30,000 passengers at the very least, accompanied by a caravan of wagons transporting dishes, bed linens, furniture, mirrors, food and clothing - enough to furnish men and women alike for several weeks of receptions and official balls.
On March 11, Elizabeth departed from her residence at Tsarskoye Selo, having taken a few days’ rest before tackling the wearying tasks that come with triumph. A special carriage was built to enable her to enjoy every conceivable convenience during the journey - which was expected to last nearly a month, taking into account the frequent stops. The vehicle was upholstered in green and was bright and airy, with broad picture windows on both sides. It was so spacious that a card table and chairs could be set up, along with a sofa and a heating stove. This traveling house was pulled by a team of twelve horses; twelve more trotted along behind, to facilitate the changes
