Terrible Tsarinas

councilors: Loewenwolde, Ostermann and Münnich. They were

soon joined in their palace plot by Cherkassky and Bestuzhev.

After hours of secret discussions, they agreed that the greatest

danger ahead was by no means their compatriot Bühren, but the

clique of Russian aristocrats, who still had not accepted being

brushed aside. In the final analysis, they reckoned, given the dan-

ger that some champion of the old-stock nobility would make an

attempt to seize power, it would be preferable, for the German

clan, to support their dear old accomplice Bühren. Thus, these

five confederates (three of whom were of Germanic origin while

the two others had ties to foreign courts) decided to place the

destiny of the empire in the hands of a character who had never

shown any concern for the traditions of Russia and who had not

even taken the trouble to learn the language of the country that he

claimed to govern. Having come to this resolve, they so advised

Bühren — who had never doubted that they would see things his

way.

Now they were all reconciled, united around a common in-

terest, and they strove to convince the empress. Rocked between

bouts of pain and delusion, she never left her bed anymore. She

must hardly have been able to hear Bühren as he tried to explain

to her what he wanted: a simple signature at the bottom of a

page. Since she seemed too tired to answer him, he slipped the

document under her pillow. Surprised by this gesture, she whis-

pered, “Do you need that?” Then she turned her head and refused

to speak anymore.

A few days later, Bestuzhev drafted another declaration, by

which the Senate and the Generalité implored Her Majesty to en-

trust the regency to Bühren, in order to ensure the continuation of

< 93 >

Terrible Tsarinas

the empire “under whatever circumstance may arise.” Once more,

the patient left the paper under her pillow without deigning to

initial it — nor even to read it. Bühren and “his men” were dis-

mayed by this inertia — which was likely to be final. Would they

have to resort again to forgery to avoid trouble? What had hap-

pened on January 1730 when the young tsar Peter II had died was

not encouraging.* Considering the ill will of the nobility, it would

be dangerous to repeat that game with every change of reign.

However, on October 16, 1740, the tsarina took a turn for the

better. She called in her old favorite and, with a trembling hand,

gave him the signed document. Finally, Bühren could breathe

again — and with him, all those in the close band who had con-

tributed to this victory in extremis. The new regent’s partisans

hoped that their efforts, more or less spontaneous, would be re-

paid before long, While Her Majesty was on her death bed, they

counted the days and calculated the coming rewards. The priest

was called in, and the prayer for the dying was said. Lulled by the

chanting, she cast her eye about and, in her distress, recognized

through her fog the tall silhouette of Münnich among those in at-

tendance. She smiled to him as if beseeching his protection for the

one who would one day be taking her place on the throne of Rus-

sia, and murmured, “Good-bye, Field Marshal!” Later, she added,

“Good-bye, everyone!” These were her last words. She slipped

into a coma on October 28, 1740.

At the announcement of her death, Russia shook off a night-

mare. But around the palace, the expectation was that the nation

might be falling into an even blacker horror. The imperial court

was unanimous in its opinion that, with a nine-month-old tsar

still in his crib and a regent of German origin (who could express

himself in Russian only reluctantly and whose principal concern

*Vasily Lukich Dolgoruky, for one, was executed in the wake of that

event.

< 94 >

The Extravagant Anna

was to destroy the country’s noblest families), the empire was

heading straight for a catastrophe.

The day after Anna Ivanovna’s death, Bühren became regent

by the grace of the recently departed, with a baby as his mascot

and as the living guarantee of his rights. He immediately set him-

self to clearing the ground around him. In his view, the first es-

sential move would be to get rid of Anna Leopoldovna and An-

thony Ulrich, little Ivan’s parents. If he could send them far

enough from the capital — and why not abroad? — he would have

his free hands until the imperial brat attained his majority. Study-

ing the new political aspect of Russia, Baron Axel of Mardefeld,

Prussian Minister to St. Petersburg, summarized his opinion on

the future of the country in a dispatch to his sovereign Frederick

II, saying: “Seventeen years of despotism [the legal duration of the

minority of the tsar] and a nine-month-old child who, by the way,

could die, yielding the throne to the regent.”8

Mardefeld’s letter is dated October 29, 1740, the day follow-

ing the death of the tsarina. Less than a week later, events sud-

denly took a turn in a direction that the diplomat had not fore-

seen. Despite the future tsar Ivan VI’s being transferred to the