Gregory Petrovitch Danilevski was born at Danilovki, an estate in the government of Kharkov, on April 14th, 1829. He died last winter at St. Petersburg, on December 6th. His childhood over—it was spent partly on the estate of his grandfather, near Dontsov, partly on the estate of Petrovski—he became a student first of the Muscovite Institute for the nobility, afterwards of the University of St. Petersburg, leaving the latter, in 1850, as graduate in jurisprudence. In 1848, during his studentship, he was presented with a silver medal at the meeting of the Philological Institute for his composition on Poushkin and Kriloff.

From 1850 to 1857 he served in the ministry of public instruction, at first under Noroff, afterwards under Prince Viazimski. During this period he visited Finland and the Crimea, and worked, by commission from the ArchÆological Society, on the archives of the monasteries of the governments of Kharkov, Koursk, and Poltava, and, at the suggestion of the historian Oustrialoff, wrote a description of the famous battlefield of the last-named place. In 1856, at the instance of the Imperial admiral, Constantine Nicolaievitch, he was sent to the south of Russia to write a description of the Sea of Azov, the Dnieper, and the Don. In the following year he resigned his official appointment. Thereafter, for twelve years, he lived at Petrovski, his own favourite estate in Kharkov, from time to time, however, paying visits to Poland, White Russia, Volhynie, and Podolia, and sailing down the Volga, Don, and Dnieper. Made in 1859 deputy of the committee of Kharkov for improving the condition of the peasantry, he was instructed four years later, by Golovinin, the minister of public instruction, to inspect and to report on the condition of 200 national schools in the government of Kharkov. During the first three years of the establishment of the rural police courts he served by election. Despatched to St. Petersburg in 1868 as a deputy by the government of Kharkov, he had the honour of being presented to the emperor. From 1867 to 1870 he held the post of honorary justice of the peace. Finally, in 1869, on the institution of the official organ, “The Government Herald,” he was appointed senior assistant to the chief editor. This post he occupied eleven years.

His historical novels have created quite a sensation in Russia by reason of their originality, their fascination, and their truthfulness to history and to nature. Among the more celebrated of his numerous works, besides the novel of which a translation is here presented, are “Merovitch” and “Freedom.” As Danilevski has, hitherto, been unknown in England, some remarks on his writings will be of interest.

With regard to the sad history contained in this book, it is evident that the author had exceptional information on the subject of his narrative, for he is not over-careful to conceal his opinion of the strong probability of the Princess Tarakanova’s claims being legitimate as well as bonÂ-fide, and of Orloff’s real character being greatly different from the popular estimate of it as expressed in the lines under the count’s portrait. It is not known how the remarkable diary which constitutes Part I. of this work came into Danilevski’s hands; but there is ground for the conjecture that it came to him, with other papers, from his grandmother. A curious fact, too, is the circumstance that Danilevski’s governess was a lady of the name of Pchelkina. However this may be, my husband, Colonel de GÉnie de Mouchanoff, was informed by Danilevski himself that the diary as published is almost word for word as written by Konsov, and that the details concerning the subsequent history of the captive were obtained by him from authentic official documents.

Nevertheless, Danilevski’s view is not the popular one. SchÉbalski and Solovieff in dealing with this subject write as follows:—

“When Russia was involved in the war with Turkey some evil-minded persons availed themselves of the opportunity to bring forward pretenders to the throne. They set rumours afloat to the effect that Elizabeth, after her secret marriage with Count Razoumovski, had a daughter, and that this child was she who was known by the name of Princess Tarakanova.

“The adventures of this Pretender form a very interesting page in Russian history, and have given rise to many novels and tales. They have now, however, lost much of their mysterious interest, thanks to the extracts printed from the procÉs of Princess Tarakanova, not long since published in one of our historical reviews. Still, it is an ascertained fact that the Princess spent several of the years of her youth abroad, and that she led a luxurious though retired life. Very likely the tie between this person and the Russian Empress may have been known to political intriguers, and have suggested to them the idea of using this Pretender as an instrument for raising a revolution in Russia. There is every reason to believe that Prince Radzivill, the leader of the confederation of Radomski, educated a young girl with this object in view; but whether this girl became the future Tarakanova, or some other person, is to this day, and most probably will remain eternally, unknown.

“What is really ascertained is that a young girl of very humble origin, a native of Prague or Nuremburg, endowed with the most marvellous beauty, clever and enterprising, but of extremely equivocal conduct, shone from the end of the year 1760 till the beginning of 1770 at Berlin, London, and Paris, lavishly spending on her dress and pleasures the money which she had levied on her admirers. With every new residence she changed her name. In Paris she was the “Princess Wladimirskaya,” a native of Russia, but brought up, it was said, in Persia, as mischief was feared at the hands of her enemies in Russia, where, so she alleged, she had great possessions. We are bound, indeed, to believe that her charms were extraordinary; for notwithstanding her conduct, several highly placed personages, in both France and Germany, sought her hand. One of these was actually a reigning Prince of the German Empire. In 1773, the mysterious adventuress was on the point of accepting the hand of this prince, but postponed the matter under pretence of starting for Russia to arrange her affairs, and then suddenly disappeared. In the spring of 1774 she turned up at the other side of Europe—at Venice.

“It was then that her political rÔle really began. As early as 1773 she had had relations with several Poles, who had left their native land shortly after the conspiracy of Baski, and it is not unlikely that it was at this time that the programme of her future actions was arranged. The Princess Wladimirskaya was to take the name of the “Princess Tarakanova,” set sail for Constantinople on a ship which Radzivill had offered to equip, and there explain to the Sultan her pretensions to the Russian throne. It was evidently the opinion of her advisers that her appearance on the Danube at the very moment when Pougachoff was raising a rebellion on the Volga would increase the difficulties of Ekaterina’s position, and would be taken advantage of by Turkish politicians. As a matter of fact, in the summer of 1774, the Princess Tarakanova and Prince Radzivill, accompanied by a numerous suite, did set sail for Constantinople. But they stopped at Ragusa, wishing to ascertain beforehand what kind of reception they were likely to meet with at the hands of the Sultan. Unfortunately for them, great changes had taken place. The overtures of the Princess were not only declined: she was even invited to give up all thought of her visit.

“Separated from Radzivill, but not from her political rÔle, the Princess went first to Naples and then to Rome. At the latter city she tried to bring to her side all the most influential cardinals, and even the Pope himself, promising that in the event of her accession to the throne she would do all in her power to establish the Catholic faith in Russia.

“During all these pÉripÉties Count Orloff Chesmenski was, as we all know, in Italy. Of course he lost no time in writing full particulars concerning the false Tarakanova to Ekaterina, from whom he received orders to steal the Pretender, and so cut off the intrigue at the very outset. Orloff surrounded the Princess with spies, and, through his emissaries, tried to inspire her with confidence in himself. The words of the emissaries seemed very credible to the Princess. Gregory Orloff was then in disgrace, and it would be no very unlikely circumstance if his brother turned into a secret enemy of the empress, and joined in the intrigue. Orloff placed boundless credit at her disposition; and by giving himself out as a man deeply outraged by the government, persuaded the “Countess Selinski,” as the Princess then called herself, to come to a rendezvous with him at Pisa. Here he surrounded her with all possible homage. Balls and fÊtes succeeded each other in swift succession. He made believe to fall in with her plans, and eventually offered her his hand. Nevertheless, he was only awaiting an opportunity to arrest her, without causing any scandal. He had not long to wait. One day the Countess Selinski expressed a wish to visit the Russian squadron, then stationed at Livorno. Orloff gave orders for preparations to be made for a magnificent reception of the countess, and arranged splendid naval manoeuvres. He himself, with her suite, accompanied her on board the man-o’-war. The manoeuvres began; the cannon fired; sails were unfurled; the ships sailed out into the open sea; and the unfortunate Pretender, at the end of a journey, found herself shut up in the fortress of Petersburg. Here, it is said, she languished till 1776, when she was drowned by the rushing of the waters into her prison. But this is not true. Historical documents prove that she died of the same illness from which she was suffering when she came to Russia, and which, of course, made rapid strides during her confinement in the damp dungeon.”

Remarkable as is “The Princess Tarakanova,” it is not regarded in Russia as so fine a work as “Merovitch.” This work has attracted universal attention, for it describes one of the most interesting epochs of Russian history. The mysterious and melancholy account of the unfortunate prince-martyr, the victim of troublous times, is all the more interesting as it is founded on historical documents. Written with great entrain and truthfulness, the novel on its publication created quite a sensation. It originally appeared in 1875, under the title, “The Imperial Prisoner” but its sale was prohibited. In 1879 it was again printed, by order of the emperor.

“The whole canvas of the novel,” says Danilevski, “such as the life and infatuation of Merovitch, the customs and manners of the period, many details of the reign of Ekaterina and the attempt of Merovitch, are taken from the diary and reminiscences of my great-grandmother, and of my grandmother, who was FrÄulein at the court of Peter III. Many things I took down from the lips of my uncle, the eldest son of my father’s mother,—a born Rosslavleff, who, together with Orloff, as every one knows, played so conspicuous a part in the Coup-d’État which placed Ekaterina on the throne. But in all that belongs to history, I have, of course, strictly adhered to authentic documents from the Imperial archives. I have also had access to the archives of the citadel of Schlusselburg, to the official documents of the council of Archangel, and I have visited the celebrated dungeon of the unfortunate Prince Johann Antonovitch, and the birthplace of ‘Merovitch.’”

“Merovitch” is thus a detailed account of the Coup-d’État which placed Ekaterina on the throne of Russia, and of the conspiracy and attempt to put Johann Antonovitch on the throne, which was his by right.

An officer named Merovitch penetrated into the citadel above referred to, and hoping to surprise the sentinels and throw them off their guard, read a proclamation, trusting to be able in the confusion to facilitate the escape of the unfortunate prince. But long before strict orders had been given (it is supposed by Ekaterina) that at the first attempt at escape on the part of the prince he was to be killed on the spot. This command was strictly carried out. When Merovitch entered the prince’s cell, he found only the dead body of the unfortunate martyr.

Ekaterina II. plays so important a part in the events described in these novels that some particulars of her life and character may not be out of place.

She was born in the year 1729, at Stettin. Her father, a general in the Prussian service, and the governor of this town, inherited by the death of his cousin, the Prince of Zerbst, a small principality, situated on the borders of the Elbe, between Prussia and Saxony.

Her mother came of the house of Holstein. Princess Sophie Augusta of Anhalt-Zerbst was therefore distantly related to her future husband. She came over to Russia in her fourteenth year with her mother, and was at once instructed in the Russian faith and tongue. The following year, 1745, having been baptized into the Greek faith under the name of Ekaterina AlexÉevna, she was united to the heir of the Russian empire.

Her husband on his accession to the throne excited the discontent of the nation by publishing a great number of ukases, which, although in themselves most humane and wise, yet, owing to the uncivilized state of Russia, were in their nature far too premature. Above all, he outraged the national feeling by the treaty which he concluded with Prussia on April 24th, 1762, by which Russia returned to Prussia all forts, citadels, and towns taken in the last war. His Imperial Highness wished, it was said, to give to the world an example of abnegation and generosity. It was a marvellous event; but although nations like to see in their sovereigns high moral qualities, they also desire that advantages for which they have worked hard and shed their blood should not be wholly thrown away. By this one act Peter III. raised the whole nation against him.

Ekaterina, his consort, had won a great many adherents by her beauty, grace, and accomplishments, and many true friends among the nobility. Exceedingly ambitious, she had—with the view, as we may suppose, of one day ascending the throne—made herself thoroughly well acquainted with Russian legislation and European politics; and being as deeply devoted as her husband was profoundly indifferent to the Greek Church and its ceremonies and symbols, and having in this way established herself in the affections of the Russian peasantry—so superstitiously reverential to their Church,—she found it no difficult matter to supplant her less capable and unpopular partner. He, as is well known, not only ill-used her, but was unfaithful to her. Indeed, it was rumoured that the fate of the unfortunate Princess Eudoxie (who had been forced to take the veil) was awaiting her. Her successor was even named—viz., the niece of the chancellor Vorontzoff, a woman who, as all contemporary writers say, was not only ugly and deformed, but also most insignificant and illiterate. Meanwhile, Ekaterina’s conduct had been wholly irreproachable. She was then at Peterhoff, leading a most retired life, but sometimes meeting her adherents, especially the two Orloffs, and the Princess Dashkoff.

The Coup-d’État was to have taken place on June 29th, at the patronal fÊte of the emperor; but the arrest of Passek, captain of the regiment of PrÉobrajenski, together with the order given to the army to march against Denmark, brought about the crisis. Rumours had been set afloat that the empress was in danger. The guards, who were all devoted to the empress—40 officers and about 10,000 privates—noisily demanded to be sent to Oranienbaum, to the defence of their beloved empress. One of the privates rushed to Captain Passek, exclaiming that the empress was in danger, that an ukase ordering her arrest had been issued. Passek answered that it was all nonsense. The private, horrified, rushed to another officer, who on hearing the news, and learning that he had been to Passek, then on duty, arrested him and led him to VoyeÏkoff. And the latter, in his turn, arrested Passek, and sent a report to Oranienbaum. Of course the arrest of Passek threw the whole regiment, as well as the conspirators in other regiments, into a panic. It was decided to send Orloff to Peterhoff to escort the empress to Petersburg.

It was six o’clock in the morning when Orloff reached Peterhoff. He knocked at the empress’s door, walked in, and very coolly said, “It is time to get up; all is ready!” “What! how?” exclaimed Ekaterina. “Passek is arrested” answered Orloff. Ekaterina asked no more questions, but, hastily dressing, took her seat inside the carriage. Orloff sat by the coachman; another officer, Bibikoff, rode at the door. They made straight for the barracks of IsmaÏloff. The alarm was given. Soldiers ran out, surrounded the empress, kissing her hands, her garments, calling her their “saviour.” Two soldiers led a priest up, and all crowded to her to take the oath of allegiance. The empress was invited to take her place in the carriage again. The priest, with the cross, went on ahead. Soon they all arrived at the barracks of Simeon, followed by the two regiments. These accompanied her to the cathedral of Kazan, where the Archbishop Dimitri met her. The Te Deum was sung, and Ekaterina AlexÉevna was proclaimed Empress of Russia, and Pavel Petrovitch, her son, heir to the throne, 28th June, 1762.

On leaving the cathedral the empress was driven to the Winter Palace, where she took up her residence.

Meanwhile, Peter III. was quite ignorant of these events. At the very time when Ekaterina was being proclaimed empress, he was preparing to start with a large and brilliant suite for Peterhoff, where, as had been before decided, his fÊte was to be celebrated. An officer, Goodovitch, who had gone on before, suddenly returned with all haste and whispered softly to Peter that the empress had left the palace long ago, and was now nowhere to be found. The emperor, in a passion, jumped out of his carriage and walked rapidly to the pavilion “Mon-Plaisir,” but found nothing save his consort’s ball-dress, ready for the fÊte. “Did I not tell you she was bold enough for anything?” was Peter’s first exclamation. Originally, it was the intention of Peter to assert his rights; but the representations of his friends, the small number of his followers, and the fervour shown to the new empress, all combined to shake his resolution, and the same day he signed his abdication.

Seven days later he died in the palace of Ropshoe—poisoned, as it is supposed.

Ekaterina died on November 6th, 1796, at the age of 67.

In estimating the character of this famous woman, we must not judge her actions as we should those of a private person. Indeed, in reflecting on the lives of those who have, it may be said, to answer for the welfare and prosperity of nations, we should never forget the fact that these high personages have often, sometimes against their own feelings, to sacrifice the life of one for the well-being of thousands. Nor should we fail to take into account the character of the times in which Ekaterina ascended the throne. When her reign is compared with the reigns of those who preceded her, it appears in any but an unpleasant light. Indeed, it is impossible not to admire the empress for the humanity of her laws, and for the example she set to all her court in frugality, industry, and simplicity.

The poet Derjavin wrote an ode in her honour, in which he contrasted her manner of living with that of her courtiers. She rose very early, was always occupied, devoted several hours every day to new projects, laws, etc., for different institutions, more often she went on foot than she drove. Her table was most frugal, although of course she had every luxury at her command. Cards were all the rage then, especially the most hazardous game of “Faro,” which as grand-duchess she had been made to play at court. But after she ascended the throne she never played at games of chance again. She did not care very much for masquerade balls, only taking part in them on solemn occasions.

On her accession she found all legislation, all administration of justice in most frightful chaos, but reduced everything to order. “Of darkness she made light.” Justice could no longer be bought or sold.

She was never proud: to the meanest of her subjects always easy of access. Nor was she ever offended at hearing the unvarnished truth—witness her polemic with Von Viesing. She did not resent the most bitter criticism.

By an ukase she put down a most horrible institution called Slovo-i-diÉlo,[1] which somewhat resembled the Star Chamber. So strict had the laws been that people could be brought to the torture for having whispered at their own tables one to another; for not having drunk the health of the reigning Sovereign; for having scratched out the Imperial name and rewritten it; for having dropped money on which was stamped the Imperial effigy. Very differently from one of her predecessors, Anna Johannovna, she did not exact that her courtiers should be sitting on baskets in rows along the rooms through which she had to pass from the chapel to her own rooms, and cackle like hens. Nor used she to slap her courtiers’ faces. She built no ice palace to marry her jester and jestress in; she allowed none of her favourites to blacken with soot the faces of the proud old aristocracy, “to make an empress laugh.” She was the first to teach her subjects self-respect. She wrote an excellent moral tale for her grandson, in which, admonishing him to shun flatterers, she told him that to be invulnerable to slander, “Do no ill, and the bitterest traducer will stand before the world a convicted liar.” She abolished torture on reading the interrogation of Volhynski, a Russian boyar, brought to torture for supposed treason, and in her testament she willed that her descendants should read that piece of conviction to stifle in them any inclination to cruelty.

She was the first to divide the Russian Empire into provinces, and to give each province self-government. She opened the first national schools, cadet-corps, and two splendid half-school, half-convent-like institutions for the education of the daughters of the nobility. She promulgated an ukase allowing landlords to work the mines of gold and silver found on their own properties, which before had been strictly forbidden; and made all the rivers and seas free of access to every one—i.e., every one might sail on them, use them for mills, etc. She tried to encourage weaving, spinning and sewing, science and commerce, and gave permission to all her subjects to travel—then an unknown liberty. It is the boast of Russians that in her reign no beggars were to be found, owing, no doubt, to her humane laws regarding the serfs. Every landlord was compelled to keep on his estate, and to provide for, every serf, whether the serf were able to work or not. It would, in fact, take too long to enumerate all the numerous acts of clemency, justice, and wisdom of this wise, prudent, and far-seeing empress. If her frailty as a woman calls for the world’s censure, no one, on reading her history, can forbear bringing to her feet the tribute she so well deserves as an empress.

In the present translation I have tried to preserve, as far as possible, the quaintness and piquancy of the original Russian, but I fear that in thus endeavouring to produce a faithful copy of the author’s work I have often sacrificed elegant and correct English. Only those who know how terse and vigorous a language the Russian is will be able to appreciate the translator’s difficulties, which are greater than those of an author of a new work, so far as the mere writing of it is concerned. Whilst it is often impossible to adhere strictly to the author’s words without producing obscurities, the use of lengthy phrases and even whole sentences to express the full sense of the original, means, on the other hand, the annihilation of the author’s style. As a rule, translators of Russian works, in their endeavour to make their renderings readable, only succeed in producing a tale in common-place English, with a foreign plot, long drawn out, devoid of colour, and wearisome to read,—barely recognisable sometimes by those who are conversant with the original.

To assist those who are not familiar with Russia and Russian history, I have explained various references in the text by means of footnotes; and to excite a more lively interest in the characters, I have included portraits. The frontispiece is a reproduction of an engraving taken from a celebrated painting which embodies the popular legend concerning the Princess Tarakanova’s last hours.[2] The portraits of Orloff and Ekaterina are reproduced from old and rare engravings. Danilevski’s likeness is from a photograph taken some years ago.

In conclusion, conscious of many faults and oversights in a translation originally not intended for publication, I have to acknowledge that I am most indebted to Mr. F. Dillon Woon, of Wallington, England, for his kind aid and criticism, and to accord him my best thanks.

IDA DE MOUCHANOFF.

Pskov.

PRINCESS TARAKANOVA.