Catherine the Great - Potemkin, Catherine's General, Advisor, and Lover - Extra

At a young age, Catherine had been married to an emotionally stunted young man who never loved her. For years she had remained trapped, until she was won over by a callous rake, who later abandoned her. She then met a man of whom she was very fond, and whom she would eventually make the king of Poland. But none of these men had truly won her heart. No, the man to be her first great love turned out to be the same man who had helped her ascend the throne years before. Grigory Orlov. For 13 years she was faithful to him, but that was soon to end. Grigory Orlov was brave and bold, never flinching at danger or personal risk. But he was also boorish, rude, and impertinent. He was ill-educated, with no interest in any of the enlightenment ideas that Catherine so fancied. Catherine would once write that, despite it all, she would have stayed with him for a lifetime, if only he stayed with her. But Grigory sought danger. He was restless, unfaithful, and, worst of all to Catherine, he had grown distant. She sent him off on a diplomatic mission. There he failed, displaying the same arrogance that he had displayed at court, the same uncouth rudeness and sense of superiority that had gotten him hated by her nobles. But it didn't really matter at this point. Catherine had sent him away because she was already done with him. Too long had she suffered his infidelity, his harsh words, his sense that he was superior to the Empress herself. As his replacement, Catherine picked up a safe, pretty, dull young man, who she would rapidly come to call the most boring man in all of Russia. She found her time with him interminable. Not because he didn't try, and not because he was unrefined like Orlov, but because he never had anything interesting to say. But then, she found Potemkin. He had first caught her attention by giving her his sword knot on the day she took the throne. He had performed numerous services for Catherine. He'd been her envoy to Sweden, bringing word of the palace coup. He had been her lay representative on the Most Holy Synod. He'd been paymaster of the army, and he'd even been appointed as Guardian of Exotic Peoples at Catherine's Great Assembly on Laws. He had served valiantly in the Turkish War, and won himself renown at every turn. He was a cultured man, not only well-studied, but intellectually eager and curious. He had won the top honors at university, and then dropped out. He loved theology, but always, especially after being appointed Guardian of Exotic Peoples, kept the company not only of Orthodox ministers, but also rabbis, old believers, Cossacks, and even members of the tribal religions still alive in the more remote parts of Russia. He was a great wit, known for impressions and being able to mimic people's voices, which I guess was considered high comedy in those days. He could make Catherine laugh, and through humor, he could say to her what others couldn't say. He was bold, decisive, and highly competent, and soon, Catherine fell in love with him. He was the love of her life. She probably married him. It's one of history's great mysteries, as the wedding would have had to have been a secret, and no documents of the event survive, but in her correspondence, she starts referring to him all the time as her husband, and to herself as his wife. He was the first man who she felt was her equal, at least in everything but rank, and he was active in all aspects of court and governance, helping her to execute her will. But, and tragically for Catherine, there is always a but, he was deeply insecure about their difference in power. For all his qualities, Potemkin could never get over the fact that all the power in their relationship was firmly on her side. Every day, he required assurances that she wasn't going to leave him. When she paid attention to any of her former lovers, his jealousy flared. So certain he was that she was about to cast him aside for an old favorite, he alternated between melancholy and anger, and nothing she could ever do could convince him that he wasn't just a passing fancy, that he really was what she wanted. And in time, the strain of this broke them. Things got miserable. She spent days in tears, and he hiding in work or in another part of the palace. Passion and love were still there, but they were translated into recriminations and bitterness. At last, she finally decided to see other people. But rather than this destroying what they had, it strengthened them. While their physical relationship was done, they maintained an incredibly strong bond that simply grew as Potemkin came into his own. Not as her lover, but as her minister. Catherine would abandon lovers if they spoke ill of Potemkin, or were jealous of the space he had in her heart. And Potemkin would serve her loyally all his life, even introducing her to young men with whom he thought she might fall in love. Their loyalty to each other would overrule any other relationship and any other concern. And from here, they could turn to external affairs. Catherine dispatched Potemkin to deliver one of the largest series of territorial gains in Russian history. As part of the Treaty of Kachuk-Kainarja that ended the First Ottoman War, the Crimean Khanate was guaranteed independence from the Ottomans, a guarantee that was backed by the might of Russia. But Catherine and Potemkin saw an opportunity. The great powers of Europe were embroiled in other wars. No one would be able to raise more than a meek protest if far away Russia expanded her empire. And so they struck while the iron was hot and annexed the Crimean Khanate, an action whose consequences reverberate through to today. Soon after, they moved to annex the Kingdom of Georgia. And, as no one had raised an objection to the bloodless takeover of Crimea, Catherine and Potemkin were sure that there would be even less objection to this expansion into a little-thought-of territory to Russia's south. And they were almost right. No one in Europe really did much about it. But there was one group that cared. And that was the Chechens. And so, this action too would have consequences that would echo into today. Potemkin was then set to rule the south of Russia, to build cities and bring colonists into these new areas, to pacify hostile tribes and create a new and mighty Black Sea Fleet. And though all of these expansions brought Russia back into conflict with the Ottoman Empire, where Potemkin had previously been but one of a myriad of generals in the First Conflict, here he was supreme commander. He led with aplomb, delivering a number of smashing victories to Catherine. But, shortly thereafter, he fell ill and passed, dictating only one last letter to Catherine before death took him. He was a man of luxury and debauchery, of unswerving faithfulness on utter profligacy, of towering ego and absolute insecurity, with appetites to match his intellect and his ability. But perhaps the Austrian Field Marshal Linia put it best. I here behold a commander-in-chief who looks idle and is always busy, who has no other desk than his knees, no other comb than his fingers, constantly reclined on his couch, yet sleeping neither in night nor in daytime. A cannon shot, to which he himself is not exposed, disturbs him with the idea that it costs the life of some of his soldiers. Trembling for others, brave himself, alarmed at the approach of danger, Dull in the midst of pleasure, surfeited with everything, easily disgusted, morose, inconstant. A profound philosopher, an able minister, a sublime politician, not revengeful, asking pardon for a pain he has inflicted, quickly repairing an injustice. Thinking he loves God when he fears the devil, waving one hand to the females that please him, and, with the other, making the sign of the cross. Receiving numberless presents from his sovereign, and distributing them immediately to others. Preferring prodigality in giving to regularity in paying, prodigiously rich and not worth a farthing. Easily prejudiced in favor of or against anything, talking divinity to his generals and tactics to his bishops. Never reading, but pumping everyone with whom he converses. Uncommonly affable or extremely savage, the most attractive or repulsive of manners. Concealing under the appearance of harshness, the greatest benevolence of heart. Like a child wanting to have everything, or like a great man knowing how to do without. Gnawing his fingers, or apples, or turnips, scolding or laughing, engaged in wantonness or in prayers. Summoning twenty aides to camp, and saying nothing to any of them. Not caring for cold, though he appears unable to exist without furs. Always in his shirt without pants, or in rich regimentals. Barefoot, or in slippers. Almost bent double when he's at home, and tall, erect, proud, handsome, noble and majestic when he shows himself to his army, like Agamemnon in the midst of the monarchs of Greece. What then is his magic? Genius, natural abilities, an excellent memory, artifice without craft, the art of conquering every heart, much generosity, graciousness and justice in his rewards, and a consummate knowledge of mankind. However you view him, he served Catherine to the end, and in the end, he was the love of her life. Before his death though, there was one thing that Potemkin didn't get to resolve, and that was the matter of Poland. Join us next time as we delve into the disappearance of Poland from the map of Europe until 1918, the shifting alliances of Austria, Prussia and Russia, and the last days of Catherine, and the succession to her throne.