her last buffoons, thought it would be funny to show her a porcu-
pine in his hat — he had just captured it, alive; Elizabeth shrieked
with horror, fled to her tent, and gave orders for the insolent en-
tertainer to be tortured to death for the crime of “having fright-
ened 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 lim-
its 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 sur-
prised, 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 well
the impression of being an old-fashioned housewife whose taste
for French frills had not stifled her healthy Slavic rusticity.
In Peter the Great’s day, the courtiers had had to suffer
< 151 >
through “assemblies” convoked by the tsar in order to introduce
his subjects to Western customs. They were more like tedious
meetings of poorly-groomed aristocrats, condemned by the Re-
former to obey, to dissimulate and to show obeisance. Under
Anna Ivanovna, these assemblies had deteriorated into nests of
intrigue and worry. Unspoken fear was rampant, under the mask
of courtesy. The shadow of the devilish Bühren was on the prowl.
And now a princess who loved dressing up, dancing, and playing
games was insisting that they come to her palace purely for enjoy-
ment’s sake. Certainly, the Empress was known to have fits of
anger sometimes, or to come up with strange innovations, but all
her guests had to admit that, for the first time, the palace was suf-
fused with a blend of Russian good-naturedness and Parisian ele-
gance. Instead of being a chore, these visits to the temple of mon-
archy finally seemed to offer an occasion to enjoy oneself socially.
Not satisfied with organizing “new style” events at her own
many residences, Elizabeth obliged the greatest families of the
empire to host masked balls, in turn, under their own roofs. The
French ballet master de Landet taught everyone at court the
graceful moves of the minuet. He soon made the claim that, under
his direction, gallantry and civility were more in evidence along
the Neva than anywhere else in the world. The parties would
start at one mansion or another at 6:00 in the evening; dancing
and card-playing would go on until ten o’clock. Then the Em-
press, surrounded by certain favored individuals, would sit down
at table for supper; the other guests would eat standing up, elbow
to elbow, struggling to avoid dropping anything on their fancy
clothes. Once Her Majesty had downed her last mouthful, the
dancing would begin again; and it would go on until 2:00 in the
morning. To please in the leading lady, the menu would be both
abundant and refined. Her Majesty liked French cuisine and her
chefs (first Fornay, and then Füchs, an Alsatian) were paid 800
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rubles per annum to make it a success at these great suppers.
Elizabeth’s admiration for Peter the Great stopped short of imitat-
ing his enthusiasm for enormous feasts and drink-to-death binges;
however, she did inherit his appreciation for the robust national
gastronomy. Her favorite dishes, aside from gala feasts, were
regiment, she would give the signal to drink by emptying large
glasses of vodka in one draught.
This penchant for rich food and strong drink conferred upon
Her Majesty a premature plumpness and annoying red blotches
on the cheeks. After eating and drinking her fill, she would allow
herself to nap for an hour or two. To facilitate this rest, a kind of
sleepy meditation, she employed the services of a few women who
would take turns sitting by her side, speaking softly and scratch-
ing the bottoms of her feet. Elizabeth Ivanovna Shuvalov, the sis-
ter of Her Majesty’s new lover Ivan Shuvalov, was a specialist in
this soporific tickling. She would hear all the tsarina’s confidences
during these foot-rubbing sessions, so that she began to be known
at the court as “the real Minister of Foreign Affairs.” When the
tsarina had finished resting, the foot-scratchers would give way to
the favorite of the moment. Sometimes that was Ivan Shuvalov,
