'Little Mother, Varenka, my soul, my life,' wrote Potemkin to Varvara. 'You slept, little fool, and didn't remember anything. I, leaving you, kissed you and covered you with the quilt and with a gown and crossed you.' It is just possible to claim that this was the letter of an uncle who has simply kissed his niece good night and tucked her in, though it really reads as if he is leaving in the morning after spending the night with her.
'My angel, your caress is so pleasurable so lovable, count my love to you and you'll see you are my life, my joy, my angel; I'm kissing you innumerable times and I think about you even more ...'. Even in the age of sensibilit6 and written by an emotional and uninhibited Prince, these sentiments were not those of a conventional uncle. Often he called her 'my honey' or 'my treasure', 'my soul, my tender lover', 'my sweetheart goddess' and 'lovable lips' and frequently signed off. 'I am kissing you from head to foot.' The letters are shamelessly sensual - and yet familial too: 'My honey, Varenka, my soul ... Goodbye, sweet lips, come over to dinner. I have invited your sisters ...'. In one letter, he told her: 'Tomorrow I'm going to the banya.' Recalling his rendezvous in the Winter Palace banya with Catherine, was he arranging to meet his niece there too?
The Prince was now thirty-seven, seventeen years older than Varvara, so, in age at least, there was nothing remarkable in their love affair. The sisters and their hulking brother, Vasily, were now at Court every day and in Potemkin's homes - the Shepilev house, the Anichkov - every evening. They attended his dinners and watched him playing cards with the Empress in her Little Hermitage. They were his most precious ornaments as well as his friends, family, entourage. As far as we know, he had no children: they were his heirs too. It was no coincidence that it was Varvara who became his mistress, for she was the family flirt, he the family hero.
The letters are clearly those of an older man and a younger woman; for example, when Potemkin told her that the Empress had invited her to a dinner, he added, 'My dear, dress yourself very well and try to be kind and beautiful,' telling to watch her 'ps and qs'. From outside town, possibly Tsarskoe Selo, he asked: 'I'm planning to come into town tomorrow ... Write to me where you plan to visit me - at the Anichkov or the Palace?' Varenka frequently saw the Empress and Serenissimus together. 'The Empress was bled today so there's no need to bother her,' he told her. 'I'm off to the Empress and then I'll come and see you.'
Varenka was in love with him too - she often called him 'my life' and worried, like all his women, about his illnesses while basking in his luxury: 'Father, my life, thank you so much for the present and the letter ... I'm kissing you a million times in my mind.' However, she began to suffer and make trouble. 'It's useless caressing me,' she said. 'Listen, I'm telling you seriously now ... if you loved me once, I ask you to forget me for ever, I've decided to leave you. I wish you to be loved by another ... though no one will love you as I've loved you ...'. Was this minx of the Engelhardt sisters jealous of another woman, for there were indeed others, or simply pretending to be?
'Varenka, you are a fool and an ungrateful rascal,' Potemkin wrote, perhaps at that moment. 'Can I say - Varenka feels bad and Grishenka feels nothing? When I come, I'll tear your ears off for it!' Was it when he arrived in a temper after this that she told him: 'Good my friend, then if it is me who has angered you, then go!' But then she said she had slept too much and perhaps that was why she was in a bad mood. So Varenka sulked and postured while Potemkin suffered the tortures of every older man who falls in love with a spoilt girl. The Empress, who invited Varvara to everything and knew of their relationship, did not mind when Potemkin was happy. Indeed she did everything she could to make sure that the niece was close to both of them. When one of the courtiers moved out of the palace, Potemkin asked the Empress to 'order Madame Maltiz [Mistress of the Empress's maids-of-honour] to give Princess Ekaterina's apartments to my Varvara Vasilievna'. Catherine replied: 'I'll order it...'.7
News of the scandalous affair reached Daria Potemkina in Moscow. The Prince's appalled mother tried to stop it. A furious Serenissimus tossed her unread letters into the fireplace. Daria also wrote to Varvara to reprimand her. 'I've received grandmother's letters,' Varvara told Potemkin, 'which made me very angry. Was this the reason for you going?' Then the girl offered herself again: 'My darling little michant, my angel, don't you want me, my adored treasure?'
When Potemkin started to spend more time in his southern provinces, Varvara sulked at Court. Catherine decided to intervene. Harris got wind of this: 'Her Majesty reproached Prince XXX with the irregularity of his conduct with his niece and the dishonour it brought...'. Harris was projecting English priggishness on to a relationship he did not understand. Catherine's indulgent teasing of Potemkin about his niece-mistress revealed their open relationship: 'Listen, my little Varenka is not well at all; it's your departure that is the cause. It's very wrong of you. It will kill her and I am getting very fond of her. They want to bleed her.'8
Was Varenka wasting away out of love for her uncle? Or was there another reason? The wily girl may have been playing a double game with the Prince. At the beginning, love pervaded her letters to him. Later, their tone changed. Potemkin was still in love with her - but he knew she would soon have to marry: 'Your victory over me is strong and eternal. If you love me, I'm happy, if you know how I love, you would never wish for anything else.' Now she was a woman, she did wish for more. She had already met Prince Sergei
Fyodorovich Golitsyn, another of that populous and powerful family, and had fallen in love with him.
We do not know if Potemkin was heartbroken for long, but he had resolved that the girls should make magnificent marriages, settling fortunes on them to ease the way. The end of the affair was required by family duty. 'Now all is finished,' she wrote to him. 'I waited for it every moment for a month when I began to notice your changes towards me. What have I done now when I'm so unhappy? I'm returning all your letters to you.' So it was a two-way street. 'If I behaved badly,' she wrote, 'you have to remember who was the cause of it.'
Potemkin behaved generously. In September 1778, 'he prevailed on a Prince XXX to marry her'. Prince XXX - Sergei Golitsyn - agreed. 'They were betrothed with great pomp at the Palace the day before yesterday,' observed Harris. In January 1779 as with all the Engelhardt marriages, the Empress was present when Varvara married. Varvara and Potemkin remained close for the rest of his life, and she continued to write him affectionate, flirtatious letters: 'I'm kissing your hands and asking you to remember me, father. I don't know why but it seems to me that you forget me ...', and then, like everyone else who knew him, she wrote: 'Come, my friend, as soon as possible, it's so dull without you.' She still signed herself 'Grishenkin's pussycat'.9
Varvara and Sergei Golitsyn were happily married and had ten children. The Empress and Serenissimus stood as godparents to the eldest, named Grigory and born that year: contemporaries suggested he was Potemkin's son. This was certainly possible. Child and man, Grigory Golitsyn bore an uncanny resemblance to his great-uncle - another mystery of consanguinity.
Following Varvara's marriage, Harris saw that 'Alexandra Engelhardt seems to have still greater power over' Potemkin. It seemed that the Prince had moved on to the niece with whom he had most in common. We do not have their love letters and no one knows what happens behind bedroom doors, but contemporaries were convinced they were lovers (though that does not mean they were). Alexandra, or 'Sashenka', 'is a young lady of a very pleasing person, of good parts and a very superior aptitude in conducting a Court intrigue', added Harris with admiration tinged with envy, for he was an avid if unsuccessful intriguer himself. He was sure Alexandra had nudged Catherine towards the room where she found Countess Bruce and Korsakov together.