Catherine Ivanovna and Charles Leopold, prince of Mecklenburg.
The little princess was brought to Russia in the twinkling of
an eye. The gamine was only 13 years old at the time. Lutheran by
confession, she was re-baptized as an Orthodox and had her first
name changed from Elizabeth to Anna Leopoldovna; she became
the second most eminent figure in the empire, after her aunt Anna
Ivanovna. She grew into an insipid teenager with a fair complex-
ion; there wasn’t much sparkle in her eye, but she had enough
brains to manage a conversation (provided that the subject was
not too serious). As soon as she reached the age of 19, her aunt,
the tsarina, who was a good judge of a woman’s physical and
moral resources, decreed that she was ready for marriage. Suit-
able prospects were hastily sought.
Of course, Anna Ivanovna turned her attention first toward
what she liked to think of as her homeland, Germany. That land
of discipline and virtue was the only place to find husbands and
wives worthy of reigning over barbarian Muscovy. Charged with
discovering a
Gustav Loewenwolde went out to see what he could see. Upon
his return, he recommended either Margrave Charles of Prussia or
Prince Anthony Ulrich of Bevern, of the house of Brunswick,
brother-in-law of the crown prince in Prussia. Personally, he was
inclined in favor of the second candidate, whereas Ostermann,
with his special interest in foreign relations, was inclined toward
the first. The advantages and disadvantages of the two champions
were debated before Anna Ivanovna, without consulting the inter-
ested party who would, however, have her word to say, for she
was already over the age of 20.
To tell the truth, the empress had only one goal in all this
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political-marital machination: to have her niece bring a child into
the world as soon as possible, in order to make it heir to the
crown, which would cut short any maneuvers by external parties.
But who would be more likely to impregnate sweet Anna Leo-
poldovna faster, Charles of Prussia or Prince Anthony Ulrich?
Hesitating, they had Anthony Ulrich brought in to be presented
to Her Majesty. One glance was enough for the Empress to evalu-
ate the applicant: a decent young man, polished, weak. Certainly
not appropriate for her niece — nor for the country, for that mat-
ter. But the omniscient Bühren was anxious to build him up. And
time was of the essence, for the girl was not sitting idle, herself.
She had recently fallen in love with Count Charles Maurice of Ly-
nar, Saxon minister at St. Petersburg. Fortunately, the king of
Saxony had recalled the diplomat and posted him to another sta-
tion. Heartbroken, Anna Leopoldovna immediately threw herself
into another passion. This time, it was a woman: Baroness Julie
Mengden. They quickly became inseparable. How far did they
take their intimacy? They were the chief butt of gossip at the
court and in the embassies; “a lover’s passion for a new mistress is
nothing, compared to this,” noted the English minister Edward
Finch.6 On the other hand, the Prussian minister Axel of Marde-
feld was more skeptical; he wrote to his king, in French: “Nobody
can understand the source of the Grand Duchess’s [Anna Leo-
poldovna] supernatural attraction to Juliette [Julie Mengden]; so I
am not surprised that the public accuses this girl of following the
tastes of the famous Sapho. . . . a black calumny, . . . for the late
empress, on similar charges, made this young lady undergo a rig-
orous examination, . . . and the commission’s report was favorable
in that they found that she is a girl in every part, without any ap-
pearance of maleness [sic].”7
Given the danger that this deviant love represented, Anna
Ivanovna decided that it was time to take action. A bad marriage
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would be better than a prolonged delay. As for the virgin’s tender
feelings, Her Majesty laughed them off. This little person, whose
grace and innocence had charmed her at first, had become annoy-
ing over the years; she had become demanding, and had a disap-
pointingly obstinate temperament. Certainly, she had adopted
Anna not to make her happy, as she had claimed hundreds of
times, but to put more distance between the throne and Tsarevna
Elizabeth Petrovna, whom she hated. Anna Leopoldovna’s only
value in her eyes was as a smokescreen, a last resort, or a conven-
ient womb to be used. So let her settle for someone like Anthony
Ulrich for husband! Even that was too good for an airhead like
her!
Despite the fiancée’s tears, the wedding took place on July
14, 1739. The majestic ball that followed the bridal blessing be-
dazzled even the most bilious diplomats. The bride wore a gown
of silver thread, heavily embroidered. A diamond crown shone
with the light of a thousand flames in her thick dark hair, with
luscious braids. However, she was not the star of the ball. In her
fairytale toilette, she looked out of place in this company. Among
