Elizabeth, to revive the allies’ flagging energies.
In parallel to all this official business, she conducted (with an almost youthful delight) a friendly correspondence with the king of France. The letters between the two monarchs were written by their respective secretaries, but the tsarina liked to think that those from Louis XV were really dictated by him and that the solicitude expressed in the letters was the sign of a genuine autumnal flirtation. Elizabeth was suffering from open wounds on her legs, and Louis XV stretched his compassion as far as to send her his personal surgeon, Dr. Poissonier. Certainly, it was not his skill with the scalpel and his ability to prescribe medications, but his capacity to collect information and to weave intrigues that had earned Poissonier the king’s high regard. Having been invested with this secret mission, he was welcomed as an intelligence specialist by the Marquis de l’Hopital. The ambassador counted on him to relieve the tsarina of her scruples, after having relieved her of her ulcers. One doctor is as good as another; why not provide Her Majesty with a second Lestocq?
However, as much as she trusted in Dr. Poissonier’s curative science, Elizabeth resisted allowing him to guide her in her political decisions. The French were now proposing to land a Russian expeditionary force in Scotland in order to attack the English on
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Terrible Tsarinas their home territory, while the French fleet would meet the enemy in a naval action; Elizabeth considered the plan too hazardous and preferred to restrict her troops to land-based actions against Prussia.
Unfortunately, General Fermor had even less fight in him than the late Field Marshal Apraxin. Instead of leading the charge, he was marching in place, waiting at the borders of Bohemia for the arrival of hypothetical Austrian reinforcements. Annoyed by these delays, the Empress relieved Fermor and replaced him with Peter Saltykov, an old general who had spent his entire career in the Ukrainian militia. Known for his timidity, his weak appearance and his white militiaman’s uniform (of which he was very proud), Peter Saltykov made a poor impression on the troops, who called him Kurochka (the Pullet) behind his back. However, from the very first engagement, the “pullet” turned out to be more combative than a cock. Taking advantage of a tactical error by Frederick II, Saltykov boldly moved toward Frankfurt. He had given notice to the Austrian regiment under General Gedeon de Laudon to meet him at the Oder. As soon as they met up, the road to Berlin would be open.
Frederick II, alerted to this threat against his capital, hastily returned from the depths of Saxony. Learning from his spies that his adversary’s commanders, the Russian Saltykov and the Austrian Laudon, had fallen into dispute, he decided to take advantage of this dissension to launch a final attack. During the night of August 10, he crossed the Oder and advanced on the Russians, who were cut off in Kunersdorf. However, the Prussians’ slow maneuvering deprived them of any benefit of surprise, and Laudon and Saltykov had time to reorganize their troops. Nonetheless, the battle was so violent and confused that Saltykov, in a flourish of theatricality, threw himself to his knees before his soldiers and beseeched “the god of Armies” to give them victory.
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Another Catherine!
In fact, the decision was dictated by the Russian artillery, which had remained intact despite repeated attacks. On August 13, the Prussian infantry and then the cavalry were crushed by cannon shot. The survivors were overcome by panic. Of the 48,000 men originally commanded by Frederick II, only 3000 remained. This horde, exhausted and demoralized, was barely able to keep together a rearguard during its retreat. Overwhelmed by this defeat, Frederick II wrote to his brother: “The downstream effects of the matter are worse than the matter itself. I have no more resources. All is lost. I will not survive the loss of the fatherland!”
In giving his account of this victory to the tsarina, Saltykov showed himself more circumspect: “Your Imperial Majesty should not be surprised by our losses,” he wrote, “for she is not unaware that the king of Prussia sells his defeats dearly. Another victory like this one, Majesty, and I will see myself constrained to walk to St. Petersburg, staff in hand, to bring you the news myself - for I will have no one else left to serve as courier.”3 Thoroughly reassured as to the outcome of the war, Elizabeth ordered “a real Te Deum” to be celebrated this time, and she declared to the Marquis de l’Hopital: “Every good Russian must be a good Frenchman, and every good Frenchman must be a good Russian.”4 As a reward for this great feat of arms, old Saltykov, “the Pullet,” received the title of Field Marshal. Did this honor go to his head? Instead of pursuing the enemy in his retreat, he fell asleep on his laurels. All of Russia seemed to fall into a happy torpor at the idea of having demolished a leader as prestigious as Frederick
II.
After a brief moment of despair, the Grand Duke Peter went back to believing in the German miracle. As for Elizabeth, dazed by the hymns, the artillery salvos, the ringing bells and the diplomatic congratulations, finally was delighted to be able to pause
Terrible Tsarinas and reflect. Her bellicose temper was followed by a gradual return to reason: what harm would it do to allow Frederick II, having been taught a good lesson, to stay on his throne for a while?
The main objective, surely, was to conclude an arrangement that was acceptable to all parties. But alas! it seems that France, at one time disposed to listen to the tsarina’s concerns, returned to its old protectionist ways and recoiled at the thought of leaving her with a free hand in Eastern Prussia and Poland. One would almost think that Louis XV and his advisers, who had so ardently sought her assistance against Prussia and England, now feared that she would take too large a role in the European game, should victory be theirs.
To back up the Marquis de l’Hopital, who was getting a bit old and tired, Versailles appointed the young baron of Breteuil. He arrived in St. Petersburg, all full of life. He was charged by the duke of Choiseul with convincing the Empress to delay further military operations in order not to “increase the embarrassments of the king of Prussia,” since that could compromise the signing of a peace accord. At least, that is what the French envoy in Elizabeth’s entourage was told. She was shocked by this call for moderation at the very hour when the spoils were to be divided. In front of Ambassador Esterhazy who, in the name of the AustroRussian alliance, accused General Peter Saltykov of foot-dragging and thus helping England (whom he hinted might be paying for this indirect assistance), she flushed red with indignation and exclaimed: “We have never made a promise that we did not endeavor to hold ourselves to!… I will never allow that glory, bought at the price of the precious blood of our subjects, to be sullied by suspicions of insincerity!” And, in fact, at the end of the third year of a senseless war, she could say that Russia was the only power in the coalition that seemed ready to make every sacrifice to obtain the capitulation of Prussia.
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Another Catherine!
Alexis Razumovsky supported her in her intransigence. He too had never ceased believing in the military and moral supremacy of the fatherland. However, when it came time to make the decisions to commit her troops in merciless combat, she consulted not her old lover, Alexis Razumovsky, not her current favorite, Ivan Shuvalov (so
