The Prince and the Empress

For her time – or indeed for any time, Catherine the Great was a remarkable woman, able to juggle statesmanship, diplomacy and 21 known lovers. Among these favorites, Grigory Alexandrovich Potemkin (1739-1791) has a special place, for he went on to make a career as a prominent state figure and military leader after leaving Catherine’s bed. This blue-eyed giant from the Smolensk region, whose name would become synonymous with “window-dressing,” attracted the empress’ attention as early as July 1762, when she came to the throne. From that time on, Catherine followed Potemkin’s career closely.

In 1769, at the height of the Russian-Turkish War, Potemkin sent the Empress a letter requesting to be sent to the war, to spill blood for her “on the field of battle.”  His wish was granted and he spent three years fighting in the war, attaining the rank of lieutenant-general. Then, in December of 1773, he received a long-awaited letter summoning him to court, where he arrived in February of 1774.

Potemkin’s subsequent “service” as a favorite of Catherine deserves detailed attention, first of all because his short appearance at court left a permanent mark both on the life of the Empress and on the history of the country, and second, because historians have at their disposal an invaluable source – the correspondence between the Empress and her lover or rather, her letters and notes to him. Hardly any of Potemkin’s letters to Catherine survived, as she burned them. All the same, even the Empress’ letters taken alone shed light on their relationship and make it possible to establish the stages of this relationship from the intimate and tender to the cold and semi-official.

Terms of Endearment

Both correspondents had common traits. They had strong characters, remarkable ambition,  a mutual desire to bend the other to their will. But there were also essential differences, which had an enormous influence on their relationship. The Empress, although she could appear temperamental, was also a steady and reasonable woman. Her admission that she “did not want to be willingly without love even for an hour,” did not turn her into a victim of love. Remarkably self-contained, she wrongfully accused herself when she wrote that she was becoming stupid from love: “it’s shameful, it’s stupid, this sin of Catherine II to allow senseless passion to rule over her,” she bemoaned. She would write in another letter  “ ... how bad it is to push love to the extreme.” Her beloved, on the other hand, had an explosive character and was prone to unpredictable acts in moments of rage. Potemkin’s fits of anger alternated with bouts of depression and apathy, which would suddenly be replaced by frenzied bursts of energy.

These character traits caused a constant tension in the lovers’ relationship. There would be tenderness followed by small tiffs and even relatively long quarrels, then by passionate vows of love and faithfulness. The Empress’ intimate letters and notes from the second half of 1774 give the impression that she had exhausted the entire vocabulary of tender words. Her inventiveness knew no bounds: “My darling Grishenka,” she called him [Grishenka is an affectionate diminutive of Grigory], “My sweet darling, “ Sweet dove,” “Darling, my soul, my loved one,” “My heart,” and so on.

In June of 1774, the word “husband” appeared for the first time in Catherine’s letters  (according to some historians, Catherine and Potemkin married secretly at some point prior to 1774). After that, the Empress’ correspondence usually ended thus: “husband dear,” “tender husband,” “dear spouse,” “my dear friend and spouse,” “I remain your faithful wife,” “my dearest spouse.” Several letters ended with other words, expressing her displeasure. But these too are filled not with the usual type of abuse or humiliating nicknames, as it may seem at first glance, but rather with the same tenderness colored by her displeasure.

On the other hand, the oaths of eternal faithfulness are so numerous in the letters and notes that they raise some suspicion about the true constancy of these feelings – most likely, some of them were prompted by reproaches that her interest in “dear, sweet Grishenka” had weakened. This theory is confirmed by one of the Empress’ letters from April 1774 aimed at pacifying the jealous lover: “It must be admitted that you have no reason for your fear. There is no one besides you.”

Here are just a few examples of the Empress’ assurances to Potemkin: “I love you more than you love me,” “I love you to the extreme,” “Priceless Grishenok [an even more tender nickname], beyond compare and the kindest in the world, I love you to the extreme and without memory, I kiss and embrace you with soul and body, dear husband,” “I love you with my heart, mind, soul and body ... and will love eternally.”

Many of her notes reflect Catherine’s sensual love and burning desire to see her beloved: “I am waiting for you in the bedroom, my soul, I want to see you greedily,” “Dear Sir, may I come to you and when,” “I am dying of boredom, when will I see you again?”

If historians had only the letters of Catherine and Potemkin to go by, they would have good reason to admire the Empress’s high moral qualities and believe her solemn promises of true love. But in fact, the very same promises can be found in the letters to the favorite who replaced Potemkin – Pyotr Zavodovsky: “I love you with all my soul,” “Truly I do not deceive you,” “I promise you gladly that while I live, I will not part with you,” and so on.

Cooling Passions

From the Empress’ letters, it is plain that the lovers often had quarrels, which were initiated by Potemkin and smoothed over by Catherine, who tried to extinguish his fits of rage and convince him of the groundlessness of his suspicions. (“I am not angry and ask you also not to be angry or sad,” “I am ready to live soul to soul.”). But these attempts grew weaker as time went on, and gradually, persuasion was replaced by reproofs.

On one occasion, Catherine wrote: “We are fighting about power, not about love.” These words suggest that Potemkin was laying claim to greater power than the Empress had agreed to yield him. In another letter, she wrote: “It is time to live soul to soul. Don’t torment me with an unbearable manner and you won’t see coldness.” And then the threat: “I will not repay rudeness with kindness.”

Catherine believed with some basis that the tension that Potemkin created in their relationship was a normal state for him. She wrote: “calmness is for you an extreme and intolerable condition.” On another occasion, the Empress complained: “I want caresses, and tender ones ... And stupid coldness with stupid spleen doesn’t produce anything but rage and annoyance.”

In these letters (from February and March 1776), the former warmth and endless vows to be true are already gone.

A new stage in the relationship between Catherine and Potemkin began in the spring and summer of 1776. As early as February 1776, The Empress sent Potemkin this note: “I received your dry letter ... I am sorry, when will you do me the honor of coming to see me.” In February-March, there was yet another note testifying to the lovers’ cooling relationship: “I ask you to be sure that my sincere friendship and purehearted attachment to you will remain constantly.” In May, the Empress sent Potemkin a note breaking off their intimate relationship.

The Empress wrote of her past love for her favorite in a letter dated February-March 1776: “Now, darling, let me tell you the last thing, on which I think our story will end. Don’t be surprised that I am worried about the way our love is going. Here, I want to be the only one, above those before, so that nobody could love you so much.” In another message, Potemkin expressed his ardent desire to serve the Empress. “Oh, you, my invaluable soul, do you know that I’m all yours and that I have only you. I will be faithful to you until I die, and I want you to stay interested in me.”

Upon reading Catherine’s letters to her lover, there is some basis for asserting that not she but Potemkin was guilty of breaking off their relationship. In Potemkin’s letter to Catherine of June 1776, when the crisis ended in the formal retirement of one favorite and his replacement with another, he wrote: “... If in the end I must be exiled from you, then let it not be before a large audience. I will not wait to retire, although for me strength is on the level of life.” From this letter, it follows that Potemkin in some manner chose to be “exiled” by the Empress and that it was her impassioned decision and his rational acceptance that set the course of the break-up.

In fact, the break-up thoroughly suited both sides. Over the 34 years of her rule, the amorous Empress had no less than 21 known favorites. Doctors now presume that Catherine suffered from nymphomania. This was indirectly confirmed by then court doctor Melhior-Adam Veikard, who acknowledged the Empress’ intellect and talent but noted: “By the way, marrying her would require extreme bravery.” The testimony of the Empress herself also supports this diagnosis. In December of 1775, she wrote to Potemkin: “I am extremely pleased with your caresses ... my bottomless sensitivity is abated of its own accord.”

Her “bottomless sensitivity” did not in fact abate, and Potemkin, who was ambitious and endowed with organizational talents, grew tired of his role as the Empress’ love slave. It is plain from the Empress’ notes that Potemkin sometimes balked at carrying out his “husbandly duties.” And the Prince must have realized that he would soon become an ex-favorite.

A New Kind of Love

The correspondence between Catherine and Potemkin only became more intense over the following 15 years. The former intimacy disappeared, to be replaced by an affectionate but business-like tone. In place of “my own darling,” “my sweet and priceless soul,” the Empress used such forms of address as “My friend, Prince Grigory Alexandrovich” and “My amiable friend.” In turn, Potemkin signed himself as a normal subject: “Your most faithful slave Prince Potemkin” or “Your truest and most grateful subject Prince Potemkin Tavrichesky.” But these letters differed from the usual correspondence between dignitaries and the Empress in their familiarity and confidentiality.

At times, the Empress even used some long-forgotten words: “I love you, Prince, and I will not forget you,” “Your Highness, I love you very, very, very much.” These words of love, however, belonged to a new stage in their relations, as was hinted in Catherine’s letter of August 13, 1788: “I love you with all my heart, as a sincere friend.” The Prince replied: “My own mother, I love you beyond compare.” This was another kind of love, grown out of satisfaction in the activities of a student and comrade in arms, an acknowledgment of the service of a faithful subject. Potemkin’s love, in turn, was the love of an outstanding statesman for his monarch.

In Catherine’s letters can be found a high regard for Potemkin’s talents and the results of his efforts as governor general of Novorossiya [the territory won from the Ottoman Empire in 1774, including Crimea and the north shore of the Black Sea]: “I know the soul and spiritual strengths of my student and know that he will achieve everything,” Catherine wrote to Potemkin.

The Empress called Potemkin a bogatyr (a hero in Russian folklore). But the bogatyr had far from a hero’s bill of health. Maybe his position as a favorite undermined him, maybe he was exhausted by his cares in managing the borderlands, maybe both, but Grigory Alexandrovich was often ill for long periods of time. He covered hundreds of kilometers without roads in the heat and in bad weather, checked that his orders were being carried out, developed and oversaw projects. Each time she heard that her “spouse” had fallen ill, Catherine was struck by fear over his fate. Her letters are full of touching worry about his health and orders to take care of himself, along with motherly advice not to overtax his strength. She expressed the reason for her cares in a letter of September 24, 1787: “You must and I order you to look after your health. I must do this because you are entrusted with assuring the well-being, defense and glory of the empire and because one must be healthy in body and soul in order to carry out what you have in your hands.” The Empress called her recommendations “a mother’s injunction.”

Potemkin, however, failed to heed the Empress’ rational advice and continued to lead his former hectic lifestyle, in which periods of apathy and rage were interspersed with periods of manic energy. The Austrian diplomat De Lin, who was closely acquainted with the Prince, wrote of Potemkin’s last years:

“Giving the appearance of a lazybones, he works incessantly; he has no table besides his own knees, no comb except his fingernails; he is always lying down, but doesn’t give himself to sleep day or night; he is worried before the onset of danger and cheerful when it comes; he is bored with pleasures; unhappy with being happy; he is impatient, he desires, and soon he gets bored with everything; a deep-thinking philosopher, an artful minister, a subtle politician and at the same time a spoiled nine-year old child; he loves God and fears Satan, whom he venerates much more strongly than he does himself; he crosses himself with one hand and greets women with the other, accepts countless awards and immediately gives them away; is extremely rich, but never has any money; speaks of religion with generals and of military affairs with bishops; by turns has the appearance of an Oriental satrap and a polite courtier from the age of Louis XIV and at the same time of a coddled Sybarite.

“What is his magic? A genius, and then again a genius; a natural intellect, a superior memory, an elevated soul, perfidy without maliciousness, cleverness without cunning, a fortunate mix of whimsy, great generosity in giving out rewards, extreme subtlety, the gift to take into account that which he does not know himself and the greatest knowledge of people.”

The Tauride Prince

De Lin’s portrait of Potemkin was such a contradictory mosaic of characteristics that it allowed his contemporaries to make of it what they would, depending on their intentions. Some enemies painted Potemkin as a pervert who kept a harem of young girls, others as a passionate lover of the opposite sex who did not hesitate to send a courier to Paris to buy ballroom slippers for a beloved lady. Others found in him an uncommon ability to make evil out of good and to harbor hate, still others considered him a pillager of the country, who spent state money carelessly. From the secretary of the Saxon embassy Gelbig, who hated Russia, Potemkin and Catherine (and did not accompany Catherine), came the legend of the “Potemkin Villages” – fake towns containing warehouses filled with bags of sand instead of grain, creating the illusion of prosperity.

On the other hand, admirers pointed to Potemkin’s unusual mind, amazing memory, outstanding organizational skills and ability to pick talented staff, and saw him as the man who, over the course of 15 years, was able to turn an empty desert territory into a flourishing region.

As governor general of Novorossiya, Grigory Potemkin made important contributions in the spheres of diplomacy, administration and the military.

Potemkin’s name is connected with Russia’s acquisition of the Crimea (now actually Ukrainian territory) – formerly a vassal territory of the Ottoman empire, from which Crimean Tatars made raids on the southern regions of Russia and Ukraine. Under the Treaty of Kuchuk Kainarji (1774), dictated by Russia to the Ottoman Empire, the north shore of the Black Sea was annexed by Russia, and the Crimean khanate received independence from the Ottoman Empire, This, however, did not prevent Russia and the Ottoman Empire from waging a bitter battle to appoint a khan that suited one of them or the other.

Potemkin’s contribution consisted in his ability to convince the last Crimean khan to refuse the throne and become a subject of the Russian Empress. Thus, Crimea became a part of Russia. For this achievement, the Empress bestowed on Potemkin the title of Tavrichesky (or Tauride, as Crimea was renamed).

It would be difficult to overemphasize Potemkin’s contribution in administering the land that Russia gained through the peace of 1774. Before the Kuchuk Kainarji peace, the region’s population amounted to approximately 100,000 people – Zaporozhian Cossacks and their families. Two decades later, the population had increased more to 800,000. An intense influx of people was ensured by the offering of various privileges to resettlers.

To Potemkin, Novorossiya owes the appearance of several cities that became important trading and industrial centers in southern Russia. Among these are Yekaterinoslav (present-day Dnepropetrovsk), which became the capital of the region, Nikolaev, Kherson with its famous wharf that equipped the Black Sea fleet with warships, and the naval base of Sevastopol, which Potemkin called “the best harbor in the world” and where the Black Sea fleet is based to this day. In fact, many Russian politicians, in the first place Yuri Luzhkov, maintain that Sevastopol is and will remain a Russian city, even though it is located on the territory of Ukraine.

Catherine’s Journey

In 1787, Catherine made her famous journey to Crimea. She found well-constructed towns with administrative buildings, industrial enterprises and a successful population. She was particularly impressed by Herson, where she witnessed the launching of a ship, and by Sevastopol, in whose bay sat 16 battleships at anchor. Catherine could hardly contain her delight.

One of the aims of her trip was to check on accusations that Potemkin was spending state money irresponsibly. The Empress, however, was convinced with her own eyes that the region’s success was real and not illusory.

She expressed her complete satisfaction with what Potemkin had accomplished in these words: “You serve me, and I am grateful. That is all there is to it. You have slapped your enemies’ hands by your diligence to me and your caring for the affairs of the empire.” The Empress pledged herself to protect the Prince from the attacks of his enemies: “And be sure that I intend to defend and protect you.”

In traveling to Crimea, Catherine did not intend to make a show of Russia’s strength. But her trip nonetheless caused irritation in Istambul and gave the Ottoman Empire a pretext to declare war against Russia in 1787. And so, Potemkin was forced to show his colors in yet another sphere – military administration. He served as president of the Military Collegium (1784) and commander in chief of the army fighting the Ottoman Empire. It must be admitted that Potemkin’s talents in this respect were more modest than in other areas, but he made some valuable contributions nonetheless.

Potemkin’s main success in managing the Military Collegium lay in his innovations in the training of soldiers and in updating equipment. “It seemed to them [foreign officers],” reasoned a field marshal in a report to the Empress, “that regularity consists in braids, hats, cuffs, the manual of the rifle and so on. In busying themselves with such crap, they [the soldiers] do not know the most important things.” Potemkin spoke out decisively against the use of flour and fat for taming curls and braids and criticized “harmful foppishness, exhausting the body,” by which he implied clothing that restricted movement.

As for Potemkin’s gifts as a field commander, they were surpassed by the talents of Suvorov, Ushakov and others. Weighed down by his responsibility for the lives of subordinate soldiers and officers, Potemkin was often plagued by indecisiveness. Catherine tried to encourage the field marshal by convincing him that he was “not just a private individual who lives and does everything as he pleases; you belong to the state and to me.” Specifically, Potemkin’s indecisiveness was expressed during the long siege of Ochakovo, which he directly commanded. He was finally forced into storming the fortress by the oncoming cold and by sickness among his troops. Potemkin also seemed at a loss at the beginning of the war when the terrible force of a storm virtually destroyed his beloved Black Sea fleet. It took Catherine no small effort to convince Potemkin not to retire after the destruction of the Black Sea ships.

One of Potemkin’s indisputable merits was his lack of envy for the successes of his subordinates on the field of battle. He praised their talents and gave them initiative. It was with Potemkin’s help that the commanding gifts of Suvorov and the talents of naval commander Ushakov were discovered (Suvorov, under Potemkin’s nominal command, managed to storm the Turkish fortress of Izmail in 1790). Potemkin valued their skills highly and more than once solicited the Empress to reward them for victorious battles.

In the spring of 1791, Potemkin visited St. Petersburg for the last time. Foreseeing his imminent death, he organized a splendid celebration in honor of the Empress in the Tauride Palace {Russian Life, September 1997}, which Catherine had given him. On his knees, he thanked Catherine with tears in his eyes for all her kindness and signs of attention. The Empress herself could not hold back her tears.

Having returned to the south, where peace was soon expected, Potemkin continued to work in spite of illness. “I am dog tired,” he wrote in one of his letters. He died on October 5, 1791 (by the standards of our time a young man – he had barely turned 50) on the steppes, on the way from Yassy to Nikolaev.

The Empress shared her grief with the French enlightener Grimm: “ ... my pupil, my friend, you could say my idol, Prince Potemkin Tavrichesky, died in Moldavia of an illness that lasted almost a month.” Upon hearing the news, the Empress fell ill and could not reconcile herself with this loss for several weeks.