The die was cast. They had better move quickly. Ignoring protocol, an impromptu meeting was held clandestinely, right in the palace, in the tsarevna’s apartments. The principal conspirators were all there, surrounding Elizabeth Petrovna, who was more dead than alive. At her side, Alexis Razumovsky gave his opinion on the question, for the first time. Summarizing the general opinion, he declared in his beautiful, deep voice, “If we drag
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Terrible Tsarinas our feet now, we will only bring about a great misfortune. I feel it in my soul - we are on the verge of great chaos, destruction, perhaps even the ruin of the fatherland!” La Chetardie and Lestocq agreed, vociferously. There was no way out, now. Her back to the wall, Elizabeth Petrovna sighed and reluctantly acquiesced: “Alright, since if you push me to do it.” And, not even completing her sentence, she made vague gesture and left it to fate to decide the rest.
Without a moment’s hesitation, now, Lestocq and La Chetardie assigned roles; Her Highness would have to go to the gvardeitsy in person to enlist them in her aid. And just then, a delegation of grenadiers from the Guard, led by Sergeant Grunstein, had just turned up at the Summer Palace to request an audience with the tsarevna: these men confirmed that they, too, had just received orders to leave for the Finnish border. In extremis, the insurrectionists were condemned to succeed. Every minute lost would decrease their chances. Faced with the most crucial decision in her life, Elizabeth withdrew to her own room.
Before jumping into the breach, she knelt down before the icons and swore to revoke the death penalty all across Russia, should they succeed in their enterprise. In the next room her partisans, gathered around Alexis Razumovsky, fretted over these delays. She wasn’t going to change her mind again, was she? At the end of his patience, La Chetardie returned to his embassy.
When Elizabeth reappeared, standing tall, radiant and proud, Armand Lestocq placed a cross of silver in her hands, pronounced a few more words of encouragement, draped around her neck the cord of the Order of Saint Catherine, and pushed her out the door. A sleigh was waiting. Elizabeth took her seat, with Lestocq; Razumovsky and Saltykov settled into a second sleigh, while Vorontsov and Shuvalov rode along on horseback. Behind them came Grunstein and ten grenadiers. The entire group set
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One Anna after Another out, in the night, toward the barracks of the Preobrazhensky Regiment. They halted briefly in front of the French embassy, where Elizabeth sought to inform her “accomplice” La Chetardie that the denouement was at hand; but a secretary affirmed that His Excellence was not in. Understanding that this absence was essentially diplomatic, intended to clear the ambassador in case of failure, the tsarevna did not insist. She merely relayed the message, via an embassy attache, that she was “dashing to glory under the aegis of France.” And to her merit she affirmed, loud and clear, that the French government had just refused her the 2,000 rubles that she had asked for, as a last resort, from La Chetardie.
Arriving at the barracks, the plotters ran into a sentinel whom no one had had time to forewarn; doing his duty, he pounded out an alarm on his drum. Quick as lightning, Lestocq slashed the drum with his sword, while Grunstein’s grenadiers hurried to inform their comrades of the patriotic act that was expected of them. The officers, who lodged in the city, nearby, were also alerted. Within minutes, several hundred men formed up, ready for action. Gathering her courage, Elizabeth stepped down from the sleigh and addressed them in a tone of affectionate command. She had prepared her speech well.
“Do you recognize me? Do you know whose daughter I am?”
“Da, matushka!” the soldiers answered in unison.
“They plan to send me to a monastery. Will you follow me, to prevent that?”
“We are ready, matushka! We will kill them all! “If you speak of killing, I must withdraw! I do not want anyone killed!”
This magnanimous answer disconcerted the gvardeitsy. How could anyone ask them to fight, while sparing the enemy? Was the tsarevna less sure of her rights than they had thought? Understanding that she had disappointed them with her tolerance, she
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Terrible Tsarinas held up the silver cross that she had received from Lestocq and exclaimed: “I swear to die for you! Swear to do as much for me, but without spilling any blood unnecessarily!” That was a promise the gvardeitsy could give without reserve. They swore their fealty in a thunder of enthusiasm and advanced, in turn, to kiss the cross that she held out to them like the priests do in church. Seeing that the final obstacle had just come down, Elizabeth embraced with her gaze the regiment lined up before her, its officers and its men, took a deep breath and declares in a prophetic voice: “Let us go forth and bring joy to our fatherland!” Then she mounted the sleigh once more and the horses sprang forward.
Three hundred silent men followed the matushka along the still-deserted Nevsky Prospect, heading for the Winter Palace.
Passing by the Admiralty, she thought that the great sound of marching feet and the neighing of the horses must surely catch the attention of a sentinel or some townsman who suffered from insomnia. Descending from her sleigh, she thought of making it the rest of the way on foot. But her ankle boots sank deep in the snow. She faltered. Two grenadiers dashed forward to help, picked her up in their arms and carried her all the way to the entrance of the palace. Having arrived at the guard post, eight men from the escort, detached by Lestocq, advanced with grim faces and gave the password that had been communicated to them by an accomplice, disarming the four sentries planted in front of the gate. The officer who commanded the guard shouted, “Na Karaul! (“To arms!”). One of the grenadiers pointed his bayonet at the fellow’s chest, ready to slit him open at the first sign of resistance.
But Elizabeth set aside the weapon with a sweep of her hand.
This gesture of leniency completely won over the detachment charged with ensuring palace security.
Meanwhile, a few of the conspirators had reached the “private apartments.” Coming to the regent’s room, Elizabeth sur«114»
One Anna after Another prised her in bed. Her lover still being away, Anna Leopoldovna was sleeping beside her husband. She opened her frightened eyes to find the tsarevna staring down at her with a disconcerting gentleness. Without raising her voice, Elizabeth said to her, “It’s time to get up, little sister!” Stupefied, the regent did not move. But Anthony Ulrich, having awakened in his turn, protested loudly and called for the Guard with all his might. Nobody came running. While he continued to holler, Anna Leopoldovna was first to realize that she had been defeated; she accepted this with the docility of a sleepwalker, and only asked that she not be separated from Julie Mengden.
While the couple self-consciously dressed, under the suspicious eye of the conspirators, Elizabeth went into the child’s room. There lay the baby tsar, resting in his cradle all draped with voile and lace. A moment later, disturbed by the commotion, he opened his eyes and let out an inarticulate wail. Leaning over him, Elizabeth cooed with feigned affection - or was she truly touched? Then she picked up the infant in her arms, took it over toward the guards (all melting at this tender sight), and said in a tone that was distinct enough to be heard by one and all, “Poor little dear, you are innocent! Your parents alone are guilty!”