without question any accusations against members of that caste.
The more highly placed the culprit, the more the “Favorite” en-
joyed precipitating his downfall. Under his reign, the torture
rooms were seldom vacant and not a week went by in which he
did not sign orders exiling someone to Siberia or relegating some-
one to a remote province, for life. In the specialized administra-
tive department of the
whelmed by the burgeoning files, often expedited defendants to
the ends of the earth without taking the time to verify their guilt,
or even their identity.
To prevent any protest against this blind rigor on the part of
the legal authorities, Bühren created a new regiment of the Guard,
the Ismailovsky Regiment, and gave the command not to a Rus-
< 85 >
sian soldier (they were wary of them, at the top!), but to a Baltic
nobleman, Karl Gustav Loewenwolde, the brother of the Grand
Master of the court, Reinhold Loewenwolde. This elite unit
joined the Semyonovsky and Preobrazhensky regiments in order
to supplement the forces available for maintaining law and order.
Their instructions were simple: every living person within the
country must be rendered incapable of doing harm. The most fa-
mous dignitaries were, on the basis of their prominence in itself,
the most highly suspect in the view of the chancellery’s hench-
men. It was practically a crime not to have German or Baltic an-
cestors in one’s lineage.
Frightened and indignant, Anna Ivanovna’s subjects cer-
tainly considered Bühren responsible for these evils, but they also
blamed the tsarina. The boldest dared to mutter among them-
selves that a woman is congenitally unable to govern an empire
and that the curse inherent in her gender had been communicated
to the Russian nation, guilty of imprudently entrusting its destiny
to her.
Even the errors of international politics were blamed on her;
of course, that was actually Ostermann’s area of responsibility.
This character of such limited capability and such unlimited am-
bition was cocksure of his diplomatic genius. His initiatives in
this field cost the country dearly. For one thing, in order to please
Austria, he intervened in Poland — thus making trouble with
France, favored the candidature of Stanislaw Leszczynski. Then,
after the crowning of Augustus III, he thought it would be an as-
tute maneuver to swear never to partition the country; this did
not convince anyone and did not earn him any gratitude. More-
over, counting on support from Austria — which as usual would
let him down — he went to war with Turkey. Münnich achieved
a series of successes on the battlefield, but the losses were so
heavy that Ostermann was constrained to sign a peace accord. At
< 86 >
the Congress of Belgrade, in 1739, he even asked France to medi-
ate — meanwhile trying to bribe the envoy from Versailles — but
the results he obtained were contemptible: he managed to hang
onto Russia’s rights in the Azov peninsula, with the proviso that
the area not be fortified, and he gained a few acres of steppe be-
tween the Dniepr and the southernmost Bug. In exchange, Russia
promised to demolish the fortifications at Taganrog and to give up
its merchant fleet and warships in the Black Sea, leaving all free
navigation to the Turkish fleet. Russia’s only territorial gain dur-
ing Anna’s reign was the effective annexation of Ukraine, which
was placed under Russian control in 1734.
Internationally, Russia was seen as a weak and disoriented
nation, but inside the country new and absurd aspirants to the
throne were cropping up everywhere. This phenomenon was
nothing new. Since the epidemic of false Dmitris appeared at the
death of Ivan the Terrible, the obsession with miraculously resur-
rected tsareviches had become an endemic and national disease.
Nevertheless, this turmoil in public opinion, however ludicrous it
might be, was starting to disturb Anna Ivanovna. She saw the
trend as an increasingly specific threat to her legitimacy, and
Bühren encouraged that view.
She feared above all that her aunt Elizabeth Petrovna might
have a belated renewal of popularity, since she was the sole living
daughter of Peter the Great. There was a chance that among the
nobility the same specious arguments that (thankfully) had failed
to compromise her own coronation might enjoy a resurgence, and
not so innocuously this time. Moreover, she found her rival’s
beauty and natural grace intolerable. It was not enough for her to
eject the tsarevna from the palace in the hope that the court, and
everyone else, would end up forgetting all about this spoilsport.
To forestall any attempt to transfer power to another lineage, she
even thought, in 1731, of an authoritative modification of the fam-
< 87 >
ily rights in the house of Romanov. Having no child of her own
and being extremely concerned over the future of the monarchy,
she adopted her young niece, the only daughter of her elder sister