The Princess Tarakanova. G. P. Danilevskii
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 manœuvres. He himself, with her suite, accompanied her on board the man-o’-war. The manœuvres 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