I enjoyed The Cavalry Maiden, a memoir of a woman who disguised herself as a man and fought for the tsar as a cavalry officer in the Napoleonic Wars. It was nicely written and had insights into the position of women in Russian society of the early 19th Century and into the lives of cavalry officers that was different from the usual story of boredom and drudgery punctuated by drinking, gambling and duels at remote military outposts. I was hoping to repeat that experience with this book, which is another Russian woman's memoir from around the same time period, but it was largely a failure.
Natalia Durova, the Cavalry Maiden, had a trump card that Anna Labzina lacked. She had Pushkin as a mentor whereas Labzina was writing before Pushkin invented the literary language of Russia. So Labzina's memoir is the worst kind of moralistic and sentimental slop, modeled on the devotional writing that was most familiar to her. She portrays herself as a persecuted angel and her husband as a tormenting devil, though in most ways her life at the top of Russian society isn't so bad, and though the husband is sometimes extremely overbearing, he also frequently says that he cares for her and sometimes treats her nicely. Anna and her husband were within the circle of Potemkin and were favored by Catherine the Great. They received a house and garden in Petersburg as gifts from grateful proteges. It's true that her husband has a gambling and drinking problem and remains a sex addict even when he manages to abstain from cards and vodka, but his greatest offense is in suggesting that Anna should take a lover. I get why that was offensive to her, but this was a problem of the .01%. The image that she paints of herself throughout struck me as insipid. It was a like a consciously constructed saint's life, but it lacks the power the life of Avvakum, whose wife comes off in his saintly autobiography as a person of greater interest and personality than Anna does here.
Anna was almost redeemed for me by the diary that makes up the second part of this book and which covers a much later part of her life. The diary, unlike the memoir, discloses a real person living a real life. In the diary she concerns herself with the problems arising from a schism within her husband's Masonic Lodge and with the possibly ill-advised marriage plans of her proteges. She was still a captive of the ideas of her class and times, but she is no longer the insipid sock puppet that we find in the Memoir.