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Catherine the Great & Potemkin: The Imperial Love Affair

Wicked uncle Potemkin has been crucified by historians for his behaviour, but his nieces themselves were willing partners – Varvara was in love with him – and adored him throughout their lives. Far from being abused and damaged, Alexandra and Varvara enjoyed unusually happy marriages, while continuing to be close to their uncle. Ekaterina, occasional mistress for the rest of his life, was said to have merely ‘tolerated’ his embraces but she was a sleepy girl who ‘tolerated’ her husband, diamonds and everything else: that was her nature. They would surely have worshipped the protector of the family. In their letters, they always wanted to see him. Like Catherine, they found life was dull without him. No abuse is required to explain this peccadillo: in that place and time, it must have seemed natural.

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The nieces were not his only mistresses after his withdrawal from Catherine’s boudoir: Potemkin’s archives are heavy with literally hundreds of unsigned love letters from unknown women who were obviously wildly in love with the one-eyed giant. There are two sorts of womanizer – the mechanical fornicator who despises his conquests, and the genuine lover of women for whom seduction is a foundation for love and friendship. Potemkin was very much the latter – he adored the companionship of women. Later, his Court was so crowded with foreigners that it was impossible to miss the identity of his paramours. But in the 1770s all we have left are yearning letters in curling feminine hands asking: ‘How have you spent the night, my darling: better than me. I haven’t slept for a second.’ They were never satisfied with the time he gave them. ‘I am not happy with you,’ this one wrote. ‘You have such a distracted air. There must be something on your mind…’. His mistresses had to wait in their husband’s palaces, hearing from their friends and servants exactly what Potemkin was doing: ‘I know you were at the Empress’s in the evening and you fell ill. Tell me how you are, it worries me and I don’t know your news. Adieu, my angel, I can’t tell you more, everything prevents it…’. It ends abruptly – the lady’s husband had surely arrived, so she sent off the unfinished letter with her trusted maid.

These women fussed about his health, travelling, gambling, eating. His ability to attract such attention was perhaps the result of growing up surrounded by so many loving sisters: ‘My dear Prince, can you make me this sacrifice and not give so much time to gaming? It can only destroy your health.’ The mistresses ached to see him properly: ‘Tomorrow there’s a ball at the Grand Duke’s: I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you there.’ Around the same time, another woman was writing:

It’s such a pity that I only saw you at a distance when I wanted so much to kiss you, my dear friend…My God, it’s a shame and I can’t endure it! Tell me at least if you love me, my dear. It’s the only thing that can reconcile me to myself…I’d kiss you all the time but you’d get bored of me soon; I write to you before a mirror and it seems as if I’m chatting with you and I tell you everything that comes into my head…

In the billets-doux of these unknown women sitting in front of mirrors and pots of rouge, rolls of silk, puffs of powder, with a quill in their hands 200 years ago, we see Potemkin alive and reflected: ‘I kiss you a million times before you go…You work too much…I kiss you thirty million times and with a tenderness that grows all the time…Kiss me in your thoughts. Adieu, my life.’²²

Yet they masked a poignant dilemma in Potemkin’s unique position. No one else could ever really possess him. His affairs with his nieces made sense because he could never marry and have a normal family life. If he was unable to have children, this made it doubly suitable. He loved many – but he was married to Empress and Empire.

Skip Notes

*1 This Georg-Ludwig was also the uncle of her husband Peter III, who brought him to Petersburg during his short reign. Ironically, his orderly was young Potemkin.

*2 On her death, Orléans’ enemies sang: ‘La pleures-tu comme mari / Comme ta fille ou ta maîtresse?’ – Do you weep for her as a husband, for your daughter or your mistress?