Eduardo González
In 1668, the Court of the unfortunate Charles II received in Madrid Piotr Ivánovich Potemkin, who thus had the honor of leading the first official Russian embassy to Spain in history.
Piotr Ivanovich Potemkin, boyar, military man, butler of the Czar and governor of the region of Belev (and whom we should not confuse with Gregory Potemkin, the favorite of Catherine the Great who gave his name to the famous battleship of the Revolution), was sent to Spain by Czar Alexis I to obtain the support of the Hispanic Monarchy for Russia’s peace negotiations with Poland and its confrontations with the Ottoman Empire, whose troops were threatening the Russian borders from Constantinople.
The mission was part of the new strategy of Tsar Alexis to diplomatically approach the great Western Courts, in anticipation of the reformism of his successor Peter I, and to expand Russia’s commercial expansion throughout Asia and Europe. The result was the sending of numerous embassies to Venice, France, the Vatican, Austria, England and, of course, Habsburg Spain.
In this context, Alexis I was so interested in making this trip a success that the departure order (dated June 1667) contained all kinds of recommendations on how the Turkish delegation should act at the Madrid Court, including the need to “learn by heart the full title of the King of Spain” and to “make known in Spain the full title of the Tsar”. In addition, the ambassador had to learn by heart “the relations of Spain with the Holy See, the Roman Empire, Turkey, England, Denmark, Venice, Sweden and Holland”.
After boarding an Italian merchant ship that traded in Armenian caviar, the delegation arrived in December 1667 at Puerto de Santa María, in Cádiz, where it was greeted with cannon salutes by Spanish ships and lodged in the house of a Dutch merchant. On the departure for Madrid a first incident occurred, when the Russian retinue refused to pay for the lodging because their rules of protocol demanded that the Czar’s representatives be entertained free of charge by the host country. The Spanish authorities had no real instructions in this regard, and the Russians finally opted to pay to avoid further problems.
“No drunkard in the street”
In the following days, the Russians toured Andalusia and New Castile bound for the Court. On the way, they admired the beauties of Seville, were surprised by the frugal customs of the Spaniards (“no one from our embassy during the six months never saw a drunk fallen down in the street or walking with drunken cries”) and, after visiting, among other places, Cordoba, Andujar, Linares and Toledo (“a very large, famous and populated city”), at the end of February 1668 they arrived in Madrid, where they were to stay for almost three and a half months.
In the capital they were received by the ambassadors’ driver, Manuel Francisco de Lira Castillo, and were surrounded by a crowd of Madrilenians who were admired by the exotic appearance of the Tsar’s mission. The Russians were also surprised in Madrid by the absence of a guard of honor, but were reassured by De Lira, who explained to them that this custom “was never practiced in the kingdom”. During their first meetings with the conductor of ambassadors, the Russians were especially interested in Spain’s Arab past and, above all, whether this could affect their pretensions with respect to Turkey, but they were also very calm in this aspect.
The following days had everything, such as the visit and admiration of the Scurial monastery (El Escorial) or the theft of a precious stone and other jewels belonging to Potemkin by a thief from Madrid, who was condemned to death by garrotte and pardoned and sent “only” to the galleys at the request of the Russian ambassador himself.
On March 7 the royal audience took place. Curiously, the ambassadors did not learn until after entering Spain that Philip IV had died (in September 1665) and that power rested with a minor, Charles II, and his mother, Regent Mariana of Austria. In fact, the letters signed by the Czar that carried the retinue were addressed to the deceased monarch, a slip of the tongue that apparently did not bother his Spanish interlocutors, aware of the “enormous distance” between the two countries. During the reception, the child King forgot to unveil himself to the ambassadors, who admitted as a mitigating factor the young age of Charles II.
During this audience and in subsequent meetings, the Russian ambassador gave the Queen Mother the Tsar’s personal letter, in which he informed of the armistice between Russia and Poland, urged the Christian countries to unite to fight against Turkey and advocated the improvement of bilateral trade relations. On March 16, Potemkin received the affirmative response of the Regent and the Royal Council in favor of Russian pretensions and, in April, the ambassador obtained the consent of the Spanish Court to the desire of Russian merchants to trade in Spain.
On May 18, the Queen hand-delivered the letter with her replies to the Czar (in which the title of the Russian emperor was incorrectly written, which led to a small diplomatic incident that was hastily settled) and, after the exchange of royal portraits and other presents, on June 7 they left Madrid for their country.
On June 25, in Irun, the Russians experienced a last unexpected anecdote, when a customs officer, taking the retinue for merchants, demanded the delivery of money to let them pass the border. “We are envoys of our great prince, His Majesty the Tsar, to your great sovereign, His Majesty the King, for his great state affairs, friendship and brotherly love,” they replied.
Potemkin was to lead a second mission to Spain in the summer of 1681, during the reign of Tsar Theodore III. It was during this second embassy that he was portrayed in Madrid by the court painter José Carreño de Miranda. The portrait is exhibited in the Prado Museum.
