La Chétardie’s minister, Amelot de Chailloux, was certain
that Russia was “sliding from their grasp;” to reassure him, La
Chétardie reaffirmed that despite appearances “France enjoys a
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warm welcome here.”5 But Amelot did not have La Chétardie’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 con-
sidered that it would be dangerous to count on the promises of a
ruler as fickle as the empress. His hands tied by his recent com-
mitments to Sweden, he preferred not to have to choose between
the two and sought to stay out of their dispute, thus compromis-
ing 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 under-
standing towards the “daughter of Peter the Great.” Despite the
disappointing history of her relationship with Paris and Ver-
sailles, 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 re-
fused 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, how-
ever, prevent her from proclaiming that no threat, from any quar-
ter, 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 cere-
mony 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-
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mony, she decided to bring along her nephew so that, in his role as
recognized heir, he could attend the coronation of his aunt Eliza-
beth I. Peter Ulrich had just turned 14; he was old enough to un-
derstand 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 lin-
ens, 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 Tsar-
skoye Selo, having taken a few days’ rest before tackling the wea-
rying 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 at every stage. By night, the road
was lit by hundreds of resin torches placed at intervals along the
route. The entrance of every insignificant village was marked by a
festive gateway decorated with greenery. As the imperial carriage
approached, the inhabitants, who were lined up in their holiday
garb (men on one side, women on the other), bowed down to the
ground, blessing the appearance of Her Majesty by making the
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sign of the cross and cheering Her with wishes for a long life.
Whenever the cavalcade came within sight of a monastery, the
bells would ring and the monks and nuns would come out of their
sanctuaries in a procession to display their most prized icons be-
fore the daughter of Peter the Great.
Elizabeth never tired of the repetition of this folksy homage;
to her, it already seemed like just a pleasant routine. Still, she did
permit herself a few days’ respite at Vsesvyatskoye before com-
pleting the trip. At dawn on April 17, 1741 she made her entrance
into Moscow, with every bell in the city chiming a greeting. On
April 23, heralds proclaimed at the crossroads the news of the up-
coming coronation. Two days later, announced by a salvo of artil-
