Terrible Tsarinas

Lopukhin?,” he cried. “It is a lovely piece, and I am selling it

cheap! One ruble for the tongue of the beautiful Mrs. Lopukhin!”4

This was a common type of joke from executioners in those days,

but this time the public paid more attention than usual, for Nata-

lya Lopukhin had just fainted from pain and horror. The torturer

revived her with a large knout. When she came to her senses, she

was thrown into a carriage and shipped off to Siberia! Her hus-

band would soon join her in Seleguinsky, after being severely

< 158 >

An Autocrat at Work and Play

whipped, himself. He died there a few years later in a state of to-

tal abandonment. As for the Bestuzhevs, Madame lingered on for

many miserable years in Yakutsk, suffering a life of hunger, cold

and the indifference of her neighbors (who were reluctant to com-

promise themselves by looking after someone who had been re-

jected) while, in St. Petersburg, her husband Mikhail Bestuzhev

(brother of Chancellor Alexis Bestuzhev) went on with his diplo-

matic career, and their daughter was a reigning beauty at Her

Majesty’s court.

In settling the Botta matter, Elizabeth thought she had

gained control over the volatile situation within her empire.

Alexis Bestuzhev, having preserved his ministerial prerogatives in

spite of the disgrace that had befallen most of his kin, had reason

to think that his prestige had even been enhanced. However, in

Versailles, Louis XV persisted in his intention to send La Chétar-

die on a reconnaissance mission to the tsarina, who (according to

his advisors) would not mind engaging in a playful new fencing

bout with a Frenchman whose gallantries she had once found

amusing. But she was so flighty that, according to the same

“experts on the Slavic soul,” she was liable to be upset over a trifle

and to over-react to any misstep. To spare the sensitivities of this

sovereign so susceptible to changing humors, the king gave La

Chétardie two letters of introduction to Her Majesty. In one, Ver-

sailles’s emissary was presented as an ordinary person interested

in everything that related to Russia, and in the other, as a plenipo-

tentiary delegated to represent the king to “our very dear sister

and absolutely perfect friend Elizabeth, empress and autocrat of

all the Russias.”5 La Chétardie could decide on the spot which

formula was best suited to the circumstances. With this double

recommendation in his pocket, how could he help but succeed?

Traveling as quickly as possible, he arrived in St. Petersburg

on the very same day when the empress was celebrating the tenth

< 159 >

Terrible Tsarinas

anniversary of her coup d’état. Amused by La Chétardie’s eager-

ness to congratulate her, Elizabeth granted him a part-friendly,

part-protocol interview in the evening. She found him tired, fat-

ter, but so well-spoken that he thought he had charmed her com-

pletely, making her forget her past complaints against France.

But, just as he was preparing to deploy every seductive wile in his

possession, in came the titular Ambassador of France, Monsieur

d’Allion. Mortified by what he considered unfair competition,

d’Allion was anxious to stick an umbrella in his spokes. After a

series of harsh statements, Louis XV’s two representatives ex-

changed insults, slapped each other, and drew their swords. Al-

though he was wounded in the hand, La Chétardie kept his dig-

nity. Finally, realizing how silly it was for two Frenchmen in for-

eign territory to quarrel, the adversaries reluctantly reconciled.

This took place just before Christmas. As it happens, it was

precisely then, at the end of 1743, that the news Elizabeth had so

much hoped for arrived from Berlin. The King of Prussia, solicited

by various emissaries to find a bride for the heir to the Russian

throne, finally presented a pearl: a princess of adequate birth,

pleasant appearance and good education, who would be a credit

to her husband without trying to eclipse him.

That was exactly the kind of daughter-in-law the empress

had dreamed of finding. The candidate, just 15 years old, was born

in Stettin; her name was Sophia of Anhalt-Zerbst ( Figchen

, to her

family). Her father, Christian Augustus of Anhalt-Zerbst, was not

even a reigning prince; he merely ruled over his small hereditary

prerogative under the condescending protection of Frederick II.

Sophia’s mother, Johanna of Holstein-Gottorp, was a German

cousin of the late Charles Frederick, father of the Grand Duke Pe-

ter, whom Elizabeth had made her heir. Johanna was 27 years

younger than her husband and had great ambitions for her daugh-

< 160 >

An Autocrat at Work and Play

ter. Elizabeth considered this all very good for the family, very

German, and very promising. Just going over the genealogy of the

fiancée, branch by branch, Elizabeth felt herself back on familiar

ground.

While she was predisposed in favor of the young lady, she

was very disappointed in her nephew, whom she had come to

know all too well. Why wasn’t he more interested to learn the