Elizabeth’s Triumph vated country.
Elizabeth looked on helplessly as this young man, whom she had sought to forcibly integrate into a nation where he felt completely out of place, developed an obsession. Apparently, a sovereign’s so-called absolute power has its limits. Believing she had acted for the good of all, she wondered whether she had not made the gravest error in her life in entrusting the future of Peter the Great’s empire to a prince who clearly hated both Russia and the Russians.
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Footnotes 1. Cited by Daria Olivier, op. cit.
2. Ibid.
3. Letter dated 27 February 1742; cf. Brian-Chaninov, op. cit.
4.
Letters from Mardefeld, dated 12 and 19 December 1741, quoted by Simievski: “Elisabeth Petrovna”, in Parole russe, 1859, cited by K. Waliszewski in La Derniere des Romanov, Elisabeth Ir e.
5. Letter dated 16 December 1741; cf. Daria Olivier, op. cit.
6. Cf. Daria Olivier, op. cit.
7. Ibid.
VIII
AN AUTOCRAT AT WORK AND PLAY
Elizabeth’s main challenge was to enjoy herself fully without neglecting the interests of Rus sia too much. That was a difficult balance to achieve in a world where temptations, romantic and otherwise, were rife. Given Louis XV’s obstinate refusal to extend a hand to her, should she not rather follow her nephew’s example and seek the friendship of Prussia, which was more favorably disposed to her? Although her adoptive son was just 15 years old, she felt it was time to give some thought to finding him a bride - a German bride, preferably - or at least one who had been born and raised on Frederick II’s territory. At the same time, she still preserved the hope that good relations could be restored with Versailles; she charged her ambassador, Prince Kantemir, with discreetly notifying the king that she regretted the marquis of La Chetardie’s departure and that she would be happy to receive him at her court again. He had been replaced in St. Petersburg by an ambassador plenipotentiary, Mr. d’Usson d’Allion, a strait-laced character whom the empress found neither attractive nor impressive.
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Terrible Tsarinas With the French continually letting her down, she comforted herself by imitating (in her own way) the fads and fashions of that country that she so admired. This fancy resulted in an unrestrained passion for clothing, jewels, bibelots and conversational tics that seemed to have a Parisian cachet. She never missed a chance to round out her wardrobe; indeed, since dancing made her perspire profusely, she would change her garb three times during a ball. As soon as a French ship arrived in the port of St.
Petersburg, she would have the cargo inspected; and the latest innovations of Parisian dressmakers were brought to her first, s o that none of her subjects might know the latest fashions before her. Her favorite gowns were of colorful silk, preferably overlaid with gold or silver embroidery; but she would also dress as a man to surprise her entourage by the pleasing contour of her calves and her trim ankles. Twice a week, a masquerade ball was held at the court. Her Majesty would participate, in the costume of a Cossack hetman, a Louis XIII musketeer, or a Dutch sailor. Judging that she was more attractive in male clothing than any of her usual female guests, she instituted masked balls where the women were required to dress in Parisian-style jackets and knee-breeches and the men in skirts with panniers.
She was overweaningly jealous of other women’s beauty and could not brook the slightest competition. Once, she arrived at a ball wearing a rose in her hair, only to notice with indignation that Madame Natalya Lopukhin, famous for her social successes, was also wearing one. No mere coincidence, thought Elizabeth; she considered it an obvious attack upon the imperial honor.
Stopping the orchestra in the middle of a minuet, she made Mrs.
Lopukhin kneel, called for a pair of scissors, furiously clipped the offending flower and the tresses that had been cleverly curled around the stem, slapped the unfortunate woman on both cheeks
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An Autocrat at Work and Play in front of a group of stunned courtiers, and signaled to the orchestra to go on with the dance. At the end of the piece, somebody whispered in her ear that Mrs. Lopukhin had fainted with shame. Shrugging, the tsarina muttered, “She only got what she deserved, the imbecile!” And immediately after taking this little revenge, she returned to her usual serene mood, as if it had been some other person who had been so upset just a moment before.
Similarly, during a trip through the countryside Aksakov, one of her last buffoons, thought it would be funny to show her a porcupine in his hat - he had just captured it, alive; Elizabeth shrieked with horror, fled to her tent, and gave orders for the insolent entertainer to be tortured to death for the crime of “having frightened Her Majesty.”1 These disproportionate reprisals were counterbalanced by sudden exercises of religious devotion; she could be easily enraged or spontaneously repentant. She would take it upon herself to make pilgrimages, on foot, to various holy places, testing the limits of her strength. She would stand for hours on end during church services, and she observed fasts scrupulously, to the point of sometimes fainting after leaving the table without having eaten anything. The following day she would suffer from indigestion while trying to make up for lost time. Her conduct was excessive and unpredictable. She enjoyed surprising others and being surprised, herself (only, not with porcupines). She was chaotic, odd, and only half-civilized. She scorned fixed schedules, was as quick to punish as to forget, fraternized with those of humble station and sneered at the great. She had a habit of dropping in at the kitchen to enjoy the smells of the simmering dishes. She would laugh or shout unexpectedly, and gave those who knew her
