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 Chetardie 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 Chetardie two letters of introduction to Her Majesty. In one, Versailles’s emissary was presented as an ordinary person interested in everything that related to Russia, and in the other, as a plenipotentiary delegated to represent the king to “our very dear sister and absolutely perfect friend Elizabeth, empress and autocrat of all the Russias.”5 La Chetardie 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
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Terrible Tsarinas anniversary of her coup d’etat. Amused by La Chetardie’s eagerness to congratulate her, Elizabeth granted him a part-friendly, part-protocol interview in the evening. She found him tired, fatter, but so well-spoken that he thought he had charmed her completely, 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 exchanged insults, slapped each other, and drew their swords. Although he was wounded in the hand, La Chetardie kept his dignity. Finally, realizing how silly it was for two Frenchmen in foreign 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 pearclass="underline" 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 empres s 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 Peter, 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 fiancee, 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 results of the matrimonial maneuvers that had been conducted in his behalf? The principal interested party, too, was kept out of the negotiations of which she was the object. Everything was agreed through confidential correspondence between Zerbst (where Sophia’s parents resided), Berlin (where Frederick II was headquartered), and St. Petersburg (where the empress was anxiously awaiting the news from Prussia).
All the information she was able to obtain concurred: according to the few people who had met the girl, she was gracious, cultivated and reasonable, spoke French as well as German, and, despite her tender years, conducted herself well under any circumstance. Too good to be true? Seeing Figchen’s portrait, sent by Frederick II, Elizabeth was even more convinced. The little princess was truly delicious, with a sweet face and an innocent look.
Fearing any last-minute disappointment, the tsarina kept secret from her entourage the imminence of the great event that she was preparing for the happiness of Russia. But, while Alexis Bestuzhev may have been in the dark, diplomats close to Prussia were well aware of what was going on, and they found it hard to keep the news to themselves. Mardefeld kept La Chetardie and Lestocq informed as the talks progressed day by day. Here and there, rumors began to circulate. The Francophile clan was guardedly optimistic to hear that this princess, educated by a French teacher, was coming to join the court. She might be Prus«161»
Terrible Tsarinas sian by blood, but she could not help but serve the cause of France if she had been well-instructed by her governess - even if the marriage plans fell through.
Elizabeth received news of Sophia’s progress en route to the capital, with her mother. They presented themselves in Berlin, where they received Frederick II’s blessing and bankrupted themselves buying a suitable trousseau. Sophia’s father stayed behind in Zerbst. Was it to save money or to save face that he refused to accompany his daughter on this quest for a prestigious fiance?
Elizabeth didn’t care: the fewer Prussian relations surrounding the girl, the better it would be. She sent the ladies an allowance to help defray their travel expenses, and suggested that they remain incognito at least until they arrived in Russia. When they crossed the border, they were to say that they were on their way to St. Petersburg to pay Her Majesty a courtesy call. The tsarina had a comfortable carriage, drawn by six horses, waiting for them when they got to Riga. They gratefully wrapped themselves in the sable shawls that Elizabeth had thoughtfully provided against the chill, and continued their journey north.
However, upon their arrival in St. Petersburg,, they were disconcerted to learn that the Empress and all the court had removed to Moscow in order to celebrate Grand Duke Peter’s 17th birthday on February 10, 1744. In Elizabeth’s absence, La Chetardie and the Prussian ambassador, Mardefeld, had been left to welcome the ladies and introduce them to the capital city.
Sophia was enchanted by the beauty of this enormous city built at the water’s edge, admired the regiments’ changing of the guard and clapped her hands with pleasure at the sight of fourteen elephants, a gift to Peter the Great from the shah of Persia.
Her shrewd mother, however, was miffed that they had not yet been presented to the Empress. She was also worried by Chancel«162»
An Autocrat at Work and Play lor Alexis Bestuzhev’s frosty attitude toward the intended match.
She knew he was “more Russian than Russia itself,” and violently opposed to any concession to the interests of Prussia. Furthermore, s he had heard rumors that he intended to induce the Holy Synod to oppose the marriage on the basis that the two fiances were too closely related. Elizabeth was unfazed by Johanna’s worries: she knew that at the first hint from her, Bestuzhev would drop his objections and fall into line, for fear of setting off another wave of punishment against his clan, and she knew that the high prelates, mumbling in their beards, would bite their tongues and go ahead to give the couple their blessing.