method is utterly contrary to your way of thinking in which no evil dwells.
Not only jealousy, but also Potemkin’s sensitivity to the possible impermanence of his new position provided a subject for argument. He refused to be treated as merely the empress’s favorite. There is a letter from him, annotated in the margins by Catherine and returned to him, which exhibits one of their arguments and its reconciliation:
IN POTEMKIN’S HAND:
Allow me, my precious dear, to say these final words that I think will end our quarrel. Do not be surprised that I am uneasy about our love. Beyond the innumerable gifts you have bestowed on me, you have placed me in your heart. I want to be there alone, preferred to all former ones, since no one has so loved you as I. And since I am the work of your hands. So I desire that you should secure my place, that you should find joy in doing me good, that you should devise everything for my comfort and find therein repose from the great labors that occupy your lofty station. Amen.
IN CATHERINE’S HAND:
I permit you.
The sooner the better.
Be calm.
One hand washes the other.
Firmly and solidly.
You are and will be.
I see it and believe it.
I am happy with all my soul.
My foremost pleasure. It will come by itself. Let your thoughts be calm. Your feelings are tender and will find the best way.
End of quarrel. Amen.
Thus began the period in Catherine’s life when she had a lover and partner who gave her almost everything she wanted. Their intimacy permitted Potemkin to walk into her bedroom in the morning with only a dressing gown over his naked body, although the room was crowded with visitors and court officials. He scarcely noticed because his thoughts were on the fascinating conversation interrupted a few hours before when Catherine, declaring that she must have some sleep, had left his apartment below and returned to her room.
Because they worked in different parts of the palace during the day, they wrote notes to each other; continuations of their conversations. These were protestations of love mingled with affairs of state, court gossip, reproachful chiding, and discussions of mutual health. Catherine’s names for him were “My golden pheasant,” “Dearest Pigeon,” “Kitten,” “Little dog,” “Papa,” “Twin Soul,” “Little parrot,” “Grisha,” and “Grishenka.” Also: “Cossack,” “Muscovite,” “Lion in the Jungle,” “Tiger,” “Giaour (Infidel),” “My good sir,” “Prince,” “Your Excellency,” “Your Serene Highness,” “General,” and “My sweet beauty to whom no king can compare.” Potemkin’s forms of address to her were more formal, emphasizing the difference in station:
For a person with an orderly German mind who exercised strict self-control, the emotional intensity Catherine experienced with Potemkin was both liberating and distracting. She had to choose between drawn-out, draining sexual pleasure and her duties as a ruler. She tried to have both, and both ran concurrently in her mind. She was not free to be with him whenever she wanted; she compensated by secretly surrounding herself with thoughts of him; she did this while reading papers or listening to officials delivering reports, hour after hour. Because she was not free to spend these honeymoon days alone with him, Catherine poured her love onto these little scribbled slips of paper.
Potemkin, too, was immersed in passion, but he was uneasy about something else. He realized that he owed his new preeminence exclusively to the empress, and that just as she had summoned and then dismissed Vasilchikov, so, too, she could, at any moment, replace him. There was, of course, a climactic step that would change his status. His plan was extravagant, impracticable—perhaps only a daydream: he wanted to legalize their union by marriage. He spoke to her about it soon after he became the official favorite, and it was a measure of his power over her that she considered it. For Catherine, it would not have been easy; she was wary of surrendering power. This time, because of her love for Potemkin, she may have agreed.
If there was a marriage, this is a widely believed version of how it happened:
No one was to know. But to be a proper Orthodox ceremony, it had to include a chuch, a priest, and witnesses. These arrangements were made. On June 8, 1774, after a dinner in honor of the Izmailovsky Guards, Catherine, wearing the uniform of the regiment, and accompanied only by a favorite maid, set out in a boat from the Fontanka Canal, crossed the Neva River to the Vyborg side, and entered an unmarked carriage, which took her to the St. Sampsonovsky Church. There, Potemkin, wearing his general’s uniform, was waiting. Only five people were present: Catherine, Potemkin, her maid, her chamberlain, and Potemkin’s nephew Alexander Samoilov. The marriage was performed.
Is this story true? No documents have ever been seen, but there are other forms of evidence. In 1782, Sir Robert Keith, the British ambassador to Austria, walking with Emperor Joseph II, asked about the rumors. “Does it appear, sir, that Prince Potemkin’s weight and influence is diminished?” “Not at all,” the emperor replied, “but they have never been what the world imagined. The empress of Russia does not wish to part with him, and for a thousand reasons, and as [with] many connections of every sort, she could not easily get rid of him even if she wished to.” Why, if Potemkin were merely a favorite, could Catherine not get rid of him? She had gotten rid of Orlov, who, with his brothers, had put her on the throne, and who was also the father of her son, Bobrinsky. A marriage, however, had created a different situation. Perhaps this was what the emperor was saying.
Ambassadors, as well as emperors, like to pose as having inside knowledge. Philippe de Segur, the French ambassador in St. Petersburg, told Versailles in 1788 that Potemkin had “certain sacred and inalienable rights which secure the continuance of his privilege.… A lucky chance enabled me to discover it, and when I have thoroughly researched it, I shall on the first occasion inform the king.” No such occasion presented itself. The French Revolution broke out a year later, Segur returned home, and five years later the king, Louis XVI, was guillotined.
The strongest written evidence appears in the language of Catherine’s daily messages to Potemkin beginning in
