Terrible Tsarinas

theless, needing comfort in the desert of her solitude, she allowed

him to visit her in bed from time to time. But he would have to be

satisfied with that — just an interim, before the return of the re-

gent’s authentic bed-partner. The Prussian minister, Axel of

Mardefeld, observer of the morals of the court of Russia, wrote to

his sovereign on October 17, 1741, “She [the regent] has entrusted

all matters to [her husband, Anthony Ulrich] so that she can de-

vote her time more freely to leisure and entertainment, which ren-

ders him necessary, in a way. It remains to be seen whether she

will rely on him the same way when she has a declared favorite.

Basically, she does not love him; thus he has had permission to

sleep with her only since the departure of Narcissus [Lynar].”2

While she was struggling in this sentimental imbroglio, the

men around her were only thinking about politics. After Bühren’s

downfall, Münnich was given the title of Prime Minister, a reward

of 170,000 rubles for services rendered, and the rank of second

man in the empire after Anthony Ulrich, father of the child tsar.

However, this avalanche of benefices began to irritate Anthony

Ulrich. He found that his wife had exaggerated in the display of

gratitude towards a servant of the State who was very effective,

certainly, but lowly of birth. He was joined in his criticism by

other figures whose sensibilities had been wounded by this distri-

bution of emoluments. Among those who felt they had been over-

looked by those in power were Loewenwolde, Ostermann, and

Mikhail Golovkin. They complained that they were being treated

like subalterns, when in fact the regent and her husband were

deeply indebted to them.

Obviously, the all-powerful Münnich was at the head of this

gang. However, the field marshal suddenly took ill, and had to be

confined to bed. Taking advantage of this timely indisposition,

Ostermann was quick to move in, seeking to take over various

portfolios and shunt aside his principal rival, giving orders in his

< 102 >

One Anna after Another

stead. Barely out of sickbed, Münnich tried to take control

again — but it was too late. Ostermann was well-entrenched. He

was not about to let go of anything, and Anna Leopoldovna, ad-

vised by Julie Mengden, decided that the moment had come for

her to assert all her rights, with Ostermann standing behind her

like a guardian angel. He proposed looking for international

backing and even subsidies to support a “cleansing of the monar-

chy.” Confused negotiations were initiated in St. Petersburg with

England, Austria, and Saxony for alliances that would go no-

where. But let’s admit it: nobody among the European diplomats

had faith in Russia any more, caught as it was in cross currents.

The ship had no captain. Even in Constantinople, an unforeseen

collusion between France and Turkey hinted at the possible re-

crudescence of bellicose inclinations.

Although they had been kept ignorant of developments in

the sphere of foreign relations, the army officers suffered nonethe-

less from their fatherland’s obliteration and even humiliation, in

international confrontations. The insolence and the whims of the

Count of Lynar, who allowed himself every license since his mar-

riage with Julie Mengden was concocted in the back rooms of the

palace, finished off any little sympathy the regent might have pre-

served among the people and the middle nobility. The gvardeitsy

(the men of the imperial guard) reproached her for scorning the

military, and her humblest subjects were astonished that she was

never seen walking freely about the city as all the other tsarinas

had done. She was said to dislike the barracks as much as the

street, and that she only had time for the salons. She was also said

to have such an appetite for pleasure that she never bothered to

fasten her clothes unless she was attending a reception; that way,

she could get out of them more quickly when her lover came to

visit her.

On the other hand, her aunt Elizabeth Petrovna, although

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Terrible Tsarinas

most of the time confined in a kind of semi-voluntary, semi-

imposed exile far from the capital, had more taste for human inter-

actions, simple and direct relations, and even reached out to the

masses. Taking full advantage of her rare visits to St. Petersburg,

this true daughter of Peter the Great was quick to show herself in

public, traveling about on horseback or in an open carriage in the

city; and she would respond to the public’s greetings with a gra-

cious wave of the hand and an angelic smile. Her approach was so

natural that, when she was passing by, everyone felt authorized to

shout out his joy or his sorrow to her, as if she were a sister of

charity. It was said that soldiers on leave would go up to the sides

of her sleigh to murmur a compliment in her ear. Among them-

selves, they called her Matushka, “little mother”; she knew that, and

was proud to consider it an additional title of nobility.

One of the first to have detected the tsarevna’s discreetly