The Family of John III – Imprisonment in Riga Castle

General-in-chief Saltykov, who became the general-police master under Elizabeth. On November 28–29, he received three instructions one after another. According to the first, the ex-emperor was to be transported as quickly as possible through Narva, Dorpat, Riga to Mitau, showing “due respect, deference, and courtesy” to “their highnesses” and providing everything necessary on the road. Outside Russia, in Mitau, it was planned to leave the Brunswick family to their fate. According to the second, “secret” instruction, signed on November 29, Saltykov was to transport the prisoners to Mitau with all possible speed, bypassing large cities or passing through them at night, without stopping even for a minute. The convoy was strictly ordered to “observe and watch vigilantly” to prevent any meetings or conversations between members of the Brunswick family and outsiders or attempts to start correspondence. On the same day, Saltykov received a third, “most secret” instruction, also signed by the empress, but with the exact opposite meaning. It stated that the secret instruction about fast travel was canceled “due to certain circumstances,” and that the prisoners should be transported as slowly as possible, with long stops, staying in Narva for no less than 8–10 days, and stopping in Riga in the fortress to await a special order about moving to Mitau. To anticipate, Saltykov never received this special order. Leaving St. Petersburg on November 30, the escort arrived in Narva on December 4, in Dorpat on December 19, and finally in Riga.

What were the “certain circumstances” that made Elizabeth immediately after the “secret” instruction sign a new, “most secret” one? Marquis Chetardi, who after the stunning event of November 25, 1741, became a trusted man at the new court, reported that the empress decided to detain the Brunswick family in Riga until Duke Charles Peter Ulrich of Holstein-Gottorp, Elizabeth’s own nephew, urgently summoned from Kiel, arrived in Russia. The matter was not only the empress’s passionate desire to meet her only relative, the 13-year-old son of her late sister Anna Petrovna. This was the very “little devil” who, as a rival to Ivan Antonovich, was never forgotten at the courts of Anna Ioannovna and the regent. Many were itching to use the orphaned boy (his mother died in 1728, and his father in 1739) in political games around Russia. The thing was that this boy, who became Emperor Peter III after Elizabeth Petrovna’s death, was gifted by fate with an extraordinary combination of royal blood. He was the grandson of Peter the Great and simultaneously the grandson of Peter’s eternal enemy, the Viking king Charles XII. Both great names were reflected in his name. At the beginning of the Russo-Swedish war, persistent rumors circulated that the Swedes would call the duke to themselves and that he would be in the advancing army of Lewenhaupt toward St. Petersburg, thus “inspiring” the Russians to surrender to the Swedes. Indeed, according to the 1727 Testament, which Elizabeth so cherished in justifying her rights, the nephew had an undeniable advantage over her in the line of succession to the throne.

It is not surprising that in this situation the empress began to fear that what she had previously welcomed might come true, and her nephew might end up in Sweden—not as commander-in-chief, then as heir to the Swedish throne, to which he had indisputable rights, as well as to the Russian imperial throne. From this, Russia’s enemies could gain many “benefits” and political dividends. Therefore, the duke was urgently summoned to Russia, sending Barons Korf after him, and in St. Petersburg, if one may say so, they “cleaned the golden cage” for him: they prepared to rename him Peter Fedorovich and proclaim him heir to the Russian throne so that no one else would think of this and so that the “blood of Peter” would be under vigilant supervision in St. Petersburg. Later, indeed, the Swedes asked to release Peter Fedorovich to the Swedish throne, and Elizabeth gladly refused them. She could be pleased with her first and such a calculated international action: the bird sat in the cage, was safe and isolated, and fed from the hand.

Possibly, immediately after signing the “secret” instruction, according to which Saltykov was to rush with the prisoners to Mitau as quickly as possible, fears arose that during this time the empress’s nephew might be detained in these states that overnight became hostile. Therefore, it was decided to hold the Brunswick family in Riga as hostages, to release them as soon as the Duke of Holstein crossed the Russian-Courland border. This is exactly how Chetardi explained what was happening: “…for the safety of the duke’s person on the way, to detain the prince and princess of Brunswick with children in Riga until he reaches Russian borders.” Moreover, he himself advised slowing the train’s movement to Riga by increasing the convoy of prisoners from one hundred to four hundred people. As a result, there were not enough relay horses, and they had to be waited for a long time at all the stations along the way. This became a convenient formal explanation (“under the pretext of the lack of carts and other malfunctions”) for the deliberately slow movement of the convoy with prisoners. The author of the book about the fate of the Brunswick family, Korf, who did not trust Chetardi exclusively because of the “frivolous self-confidence distinguishing his nation,” relied more on the information from the Saxon envoy Petsold, who reported to Dresden that in March or April 1742, Lestock told him: the promise to release the Brunswick family abroad “happened solely because the matter was not thoroughly discussed at first, but now, of course, no one wishing the empress well will advise her to do this, and it will never happen while he, Lestock, is alive and means anything. Russia is Russia, and since it is not the first time in the world that what is publicly announced is not fulfilled later, the empress will be absolutely indifferent to what the public thinks about it.” Helbig is right: Lestock was an extremely smart and cynical man, like every politician. He composed a “program” for the Brunswick family for 30 years. For a long time, everything was, as they said then, “on the balance,” meaning it wavered one way or another. This was reflected in the letters of Prince Anton Ulrich, who was imprisoned in the Riga castle and secretly sent messages to Brunswick. Sometimes he informed relatives that their fate was decided—they would be exiled to Kazan; other times he wrote that they would be released and soon sent further to Memel. Petsold reported to Dresden that the new vice-chancellor Bestuzhev-Ryumin told him how a dispute flared up at the council of Elizabethan dignitaries about the fate of the prisoners. Most members of the meeting spoke in favor of expelling the Brunswicks from Russia, although some believed that an investigation should be launched into the ruler’s plans and that the maid of honor Julia Mengden should be interrogated “as one who knew all the secret plans of the grand duchess.”

The name of Anna Leopoldovna’s favorite surfaced at this time not by chance. From early December 1741, the “diamond case” of the Brunswick family began, which could not but affect the timing of sending the prisoners abroad. Apparently, having gained access to all the ruler’s jewels, inherited from the late aunt and regent Biron, Elizabeth Petrovna suddenly discovered the disappearance of many items.

It is unlikely that the ruler, her maid of honor, or Anton Ulrich could have taken them with them—the described circumstances of their arrest excluded this. One can assume that in the confusion, some of the diamonds were stolen by servants or guards (such cases happened), and some of the old and broken jewelry was given for remodeling to the court jeweler.

In spring and summer 1742, after a long break explained by the preparation and conduct of Elizabeth’s coronation, the authorities decided to resume dealing with the fate of the Brunswick family, and political cases began to be added to the “diamond case.” In fact, even earlier, the behavior and statements of the prisoners were monitored (the restriction of their contacts was already mentioned in the secret instruction of November 28, 1741), and attempts were made to link the investigation of Julia Mengden’s testimony with the work of the Commission on the Osterman case and others.

Elizabeth realized that the Brunswick family was not just the family of a foreign prince exiled abroad but a banner for all those dissatisfied with her regime. As soon as Elizabeth realized the danger threatening her from this side, the fate of Anna Leopoldovna and her family was finally decided: not to release them from Russia, to keep them in prison indefinitely, forever.

Supervision over the prisoners was strict. At first, the general ordered the spouses to be kept separately, but on February 1, the sovereign mercifully allowed them to be “brought together”: “We have been informed that you still keep Princess Anna and her husband not in one place, but separately, each in separate chambers. But since this is not written in the instructions and orders given to you by us, we hereby command you to keep them together, only to act in their maintenance as described in the aforementioned orders and instructions.” Saltykov reported militarily on the execution: “Most humbly to your imperial majesty I report that I received your imperial majesty’s order of this February 5th, according to which Princess Anna was brought together with her husband into one chamber.” The imprisoned princess’s fortunate rival occasionally sent her food from her table, wine, and a piece of fabric for a dress. Saltykov reported that on warm days the princess amused herself on swings hung in the castle’s inner courtyard, while the prince played skittles with the maidens. And also: “Anton Ulrich has now taken to dressing up and curling his hair, and dull curling tongs were bought at his request.”

Every step of the family was vigilantly monitored. Any cry of the infant Ivan Antonovich was described in detail in reports: “Playing with a dog, he hits it on the forehead, and when asked: ‘Whose head will you cut off, father?’ he answers that of Vasily Fedorovich Saltykov.” Guards also reported on each other. For example, Ober-Krigskommissar Apushkin, passing by Anna Leopoldovna with Ivan in his arms, bowed to them. The empress immediately sent a dispatch. Apushkin justified himself at the interrogation only by saying: “...Remembers nothing, as he was very drunk and even fell in front of the porch of his apartment.” But not everyone was so lucky. Petsold wrote: “Many, among whom was the Italian doctor Azaretti, who accompanied Princess Anna to Riga and was sent here in chains, were secretly executed.” For Anna, the consequence of the tsar’s permission to live together with her husband was another pregnancy. But on the night of September 15, 1742, she had a miscarriage, which doctors concluded was “about three months, male sex.”

Sources:

Igor Vladimirovich Kurukin: Anna Leopoldovna

Evgeny Viktorovich Anisimov: Secrets of the Forbidden Emperor