RUSSIA: AuRevoir, Potemkin?

When the British first began searching for mercenary forces to put down the American Rebellion, they turned not to the German princelings of Hesse and Brunswick but to mighty Empress Catherine II of Russia. They even made a formal offer of £1 per man for 20,000 of her infantrymen, to set sail this spring. Catherine rejected the plan as “undignified.” Besides, said she, “I am just beginning to enjoy peace.”

She was hardly exaggerating. Only four years have passed since she joined the Prussians and Austrians in the forcible partition of Poland. Only two years ago, her troops wrested the Crimea from the Turks. Only 18 months ago, the rebel Cossack Yemelyan Pugachev, who had been ravaging one-third of all Russia, was brought to Moscow in an iron cage and beheaded.

So now that Catherine is just beginning to enjoy peace, at the age of 47, the absolute mistress of everything from Kiev to Kamchatka has found a new specimen of what the Russians call a vremenshchik (man of the moment). He is Pyotr Zavadovsky, 37, her private secretary, who has moved into the traditional consort’s suite just below the Empress’s own chambers (and connected to them by a green-carpeted circular stairway). Where does that leave His Serene Highness General Grigori Alexandrovich Potemkin, 36, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, Count of the Russian Empire, recipient of Prussia’s Black Eagle decoration, Denmark’s White Elephant and Sweden’s Holy Seraphim? It apparently leaves him maneuvering to retain his power by appealing solely to the Empress’s judgment rather than her emotions.

French Charge d’Affaires Marie-Daniel Bourree, Chevalier de Corberon, has already reported to Paris that “Potemkin’s reign is drawing to a close, even though he is smiled upon.” Swedish Envoy Baron Frederik Nolcken speaks of the prince’s “feigned or real disgrace.” British Charge Richard Oakes believes “his favor to be absolutely at an end,” and furthermore “it would not be surprising to see him end his career in a monastery.”

If these current predictions in St. Petersburg come true, which is by no means certain, it would mark the end of the most passionate of Catherine’s many passions. Tall, muscular but hardly handsome, sometimes witty, some-tunes morose, Prince Potemkin once studied theology but chose the army instead. He thus played a minor role in the 1762 coup by which Catherine and Guards Officer Grigori Orlov overthrew Catherine’s weakling husband Peter III. Orlov introduced young Potemkin into court circles, where he at once amused Catherine by imitating her German accent. Orlov soon became jealous, so he and his brother Aleksei picked a quarrel with Potemkin and severely beat him. This is one explanation, though unconfirmed, of how Potemkin lost an eye (hence his nickname, “Cyclops”).

Potemkin asked for and received permission to serve as a cavalry officer in the war against Turkey, but Catherine worried about his safety and recalled him to St. Petersburg two years ago. There he encountered fading Favorite Orlov on a stairway and asked him: “Any news?” Said Orlov: “Only that you are going up and I am coming down.”

Once Catherine had appointed Potemkin her adjutant general, the traditional title in such cases,* she was lavish hi her rewards. In addition to his regular monthly allowance of 12,000 rubles (.£2,200), he received special presents on festive occasions, often 100,000 rubles at a time, as well as jewels, furs and royal lands. Potemkin is now one of the largest landowners in Russia—yet he spends so prodigally that his debts are estimated at 200,000 rubles. Catherine has been equally lavish with her affections. Even though he lives near by, she has written him almost daily letters filled with phrases like “cheri … my pigeon … mon coeur … my little soul… my beloved husband.” (Though no marriage has ever been announced, there have been persistent rumors that Catherine and Potemkin were secretly wed in late 1774.)

Potemkin is no lap dog, however. As head of the ministry of war, he is involved in all major national decisions; as governor general of the southern provinces, he is directly responsible for administering the regions most severely affected by the Turkish war. The Empress has consulted him on almost everything, asking him to correct the grammar in her massive correspondence, requesting his views on new music and poetry. Neither Catherine nor Potemkin has any clear policy about the American Revolution, because their main concern at this time is their troublesome neighbor Turkey. If Potemkin remains in power, he will probably continue his aggressive policy toward the Turks, but if he falls, there would be a kind of interregnum while rival courtiers vie for his powers.

Is Catherine actually at the point of deposing Potemkin? With a cool display of indifference, the prince spent most of the past month in a leisurely tour of his southern dominions. He has no intention, however, of staying away from the capital indefinitely. On his return to St. Petersburg, he is planning to move out of the Winter Palace—but only to a hotel near the Hermitage, which is connected to the palace by a private passage. Indeed, some court sources suggest that it was Potemkin himself who actually selected Secretary Zavadovsky as Catherine’s new adjutant general because he knows the newcomer is unlikely to threaten the political power that Potemkin still holds.

*Catherine thought so highly of Potemkin that she exempted him from her standard practice of having a prospective new adjutant general first inspected by her Scottish physician, John Rogerson, for any signs of social diseases, and then “tried out” by her friend, Countess Praskovia Bruce, who is known in St. Petersburg as leprouveuse (literally, “the tester”).