The Regent Anna Leopoldowna

She, before whom these millions of Russian subjects humbled themselves
in the dust, trembled every night in her bed at the slightest rustling,
at the whisperings of the wind, at every breath of air that beat her
closed and bolted doors.

She might, it is true, have released herself from these torments with
the utterance of only one word of command; it required only a wave of
her hand to send this haughty and dangerous Munnich to Siberia! Nor
was an excuse for such a proceeding wanting. Count Munnich's pride and
presumption daily gave occasion for anger; he daily gave offence by
his reckless disregard and disrespect for his chief, the generalissimo,
Prince Ulrich; daily was it necessary to correct him and to confine him
within his own proper official boundaries.

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.