once, when she blacked out, she had considerable difficulty pull-
ing together her thoughts again after she regained consciousness.
Her fatigue was so profound that she would have liked to give up;
but circumstances obliged her to go on.
She knew that behind her back they were already murmur-
ing about the question of her successor. If she were suddenly to
die the next day, who would receive the crown? According to tra-
dition, her successor could be only her nephew, Peter. But she
rankled at the idea that Russia should go to pieces in the hands of
that half-mad, malicious maniac, who paraded around from morn-
ing to night in a Holstein uniform. It would be better to declare
him incompetent, right now, and to designate the grand duke’s
two-year-old son, Paul Petrovich, as sole heir. However, that
would mean offering the role of regent to Catherine, whom Eliza-
beth hated as much for her good looks as for her youth, intelli-
gence and many intrigues. Moreover, the grand duchess had lately
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teamed up with Alexis Bestuzhev. Those two would soon make a
mess of all her carefully-laid plans.
This prospect profoundly aggravated the tsarina — then,
suddenly, she stopped caring. What difference did it make for her
to be concerned with the events of the future, since she presuma-
bly would not be there anymore to suffer from them? She was un-
able to make decisions even concerning the immediate future, and
put off the tiresome burden of deciding whether to depose her
nephew and hand over the reins of power to her grandson and
daughter-in-law, or to allow Peter to accede to the highest seat in
the land, at great risk to Russia. She rather hoped that events
would take care of themselves.
Precisely at that time, Field Marshal Apraxin fortuitously
made up his mind (after she had begged him many times to take
action) to launch a vast offensive against the Prussians. In July
1757, Russian troops captured Memel and Tilsitt; in August of the
same year, they crushed the enemy at Gross Jaegersdorff. These
victories reinvigorated Elizabeth and she celebrated with a
gardens of Oranienbaum. The only sad face in this rejoicing na-
tion was the Grand Duke Peter’s. Never mind that he was heir to
the throne of Russia and that this series of Russian successes
should delight him; he could not get over the defeat of his idol,
Frederick II.
The devil must have heard his recriminations — at the very
moment when the jubilant crowds in St. Petersburg were shout-
ing “On, to Berlin! On, to Berlin!” and demanding that Apraxin
continue his conquest until the very destruction of Prussia, news
came that transformed the unanimous enthusiasm into utter
amazement. Couriers dispatched by the command affirmed that,
after a brilliant beginning, the Field Marshal was beating a retreat
and that his regiments had abandoned the occupied terrain on the
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spot, leaving behind equipment, ammunition and weapons. This
flight seemed so inexplicable that Elizabeth suspected a plot. The
Marquis de l’Hôpital, who (at the request of Louis XV) was as-
sisting the tsarina to formulate her opinions in these difficult mo-
ments, was not far from thinking that the surprising defection of
the Field Marshal might not be news to Alexis Bestuzhev and the
Grand Duchess Catherine, both in the pay of England and favor-
able to Prussia.
The ambassador made comments to that effect, and his re-
marks were reported at once to the tsarina. In a burst of energy,
she set out to punish the culprits. To begin with, she recalled
Apraxin and assigned him to house arrest, naming his second lieu-
tenant, Count Fermor, to head the army. However, she reserved
her principal resentment for Catherine. She would like to prevail,
once and for all, against that woman whose marital infidelities she
once had tolerated but whose political scheming was beyond the
pale. Elizabeth should put an end to her meddling and to all the
nonsense kicked up by the comical Prussian clique that was gath-
ered around the grand-ducal couple at Oranienbaum.
Too bad — this was not the time to strike. Catherine was
pregnant again, and therefore “sacred” in the eyes of the nation.
She was off limits, for the time being. Whatever her flaws, it was
better to leave her in peace until she gave birth. And again, who
was the father? Surely not the grand duke who, since his little
operation, had reserved all his attentions for Elizabeth Vorontsov,
the niece of the Vice Chancellor. This mistress, who was neither
beautiful nor spiritual, but whose vulgarity was reassuring to him,
completely took his mind off his wife. And he didn’t care one bit
that his wife had a lover, and that it was he who had made her
pregnant. He even joked about it, in public. Catherine was noth-
ing to him now but an annoying woman who brought him dis-
honor, to whom he had been married in his youth, without anyone
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