And such refractory conduct toward a Russian master, had it not in all
times been a terrible and execrable crime--a crime for which banishment
to Siberia had always been considered a mild punishment?
Poor Anna! called to rule over Russia, she lacked only the first and
most necessary qualification for her position--a Russian heart! There
was, in this German woman's disposition, too much gentleness and
mildness, too much confiding goodness. To a less barbarous people she
might have been a blessing, a merciful ruler and gracious benefactor!
But her arm was too weak to wield the knout instead of the sceptre
over this people of slaves, her heart too soft to judge with inexorable
severity according to the barbarous Russian laws which, never pardoning,
always condemn and flay.
It was this which gradually estranged from her the hearts of the
Russians. They felt that it was no Russian who reigned over them; and
because they had no occasion to tremble and creep in the dust before
her, they almost despised her, and derided the idyllic sentiments of
this good German princess who wished to realize her fantastic dreams by
treating a horde of barbarians as a civilized people!
The slaves longed for their former yoke; they looked around them with a
feeling of strangeness, and to them it seemed unnatural not
everywhere to see the brandished knout, the avenging scaffold, and the
transport-carriages departing for Siberia!
Much as Ostermann importuned her, often as her own husband warned her,
Anna nevertheless refused; she would not banish Field-Marshal Munnich
to Siberia, but remained firm in her determination to leave him in
possession of his liberty and his dignities.
But when Munnich himself, excited and fatigued with these never-ending
annoyances, and moreover believing that Anna could not do without
him, and therefore would not grant his request, finally demanded his
dismission, Anna granted it with joy; and Munnich, deceived in all
his ambitious plans and expectations, angrily left the court to betake
himself to his palace beyond the Neva.
Anna now breathed easier; she now felt herself powerful and free, for
Munnich was as least removed farther from her; his residence was no
longer separated from hers only by a wall, she had no longer to fear his
breaking through in the night--ah, Munnich dwelt beyond the Neva, and a
whole regiment guarded its banks and bridges by night! Munnich could no
longer fall upon her by surprise, as she could have him always watched.
Anna no longer trembled with fear; she could yield to her natural
indolence, and if she sometimes, from fear of Munnich, troubled herself
about state affairs and labored with her ministers, she now felt it to
be an oppressive burden, to which she could no longer consent to subject
herself.
Satiated and exhausted, she in some measure left the wielding of the
sceptre to her first and confidential minister, Count Golopkin. He ruled
in her name, as Count Ostermann was generalissimo in the name of her
husband the Prince of Brunswick. Why trouble themselves with the pains
and cares of governing, when it was permitted them to only enjoy the
pleasures of their all-powerful position?