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.