: The Princess Tarakanova: A Dark Chapter of Russian History by Danilevskii G P Grigorii Petrovich Mouchanoff Ida De Translator - Tarakanova Elizaveta 1745-1775 Fiction

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INTRODUCTION ix-xxviii

CHAP. PAGE

INTRODUCTION.

PRINCESS TARAKANOVA.

It is night; the wind has fallen, and the sea is calmer. I am writing in my cabin. All that I have time to write of what I have seen and undergone, I will place in a bottle, and cast it upon the waters; and you who may chance to find it I entreat, by all that is sacred, to send it to its address. Ah! all-powerful God, grant me powers of memory; enlighten my poor soul, so torn with doubt!

Our victory was sung in odes by the celebrated poet Heraskov, and several lines were dedicated to my humble self, until then unknown to the world. This poem was in every one's mouth. The English in the Russian service--for instance, Mackenzie and Dugdale, who served on one of the fire-ships--took to themselves the credit for the greater part of the glory won at the battle of Chesma. But they did not really much surpass our own officers and men, who all distinguished themselves by their courage and gallantry. After this event I was found worthy of receiving the rank of lieutenant, and the Count Alexis Orloff, the hero of Chesma, having honoured me by his preference, I became his aide-de-camp. My career was thus, so far, very fortunate. Life, on the whole, smiled upon me. But sometimes a fatal destiny pursues man. Suddenly fortune ceased to favour me, angry maybe, at my abrupt, albeit forced, departure from my native land.

Resting on our laurels reaped at Chesma, we led joyous lives. We received flattering invitations from the French, Spanish, Venetians, and men of other nations. All at once, upon me, the alien, there fell a new, unexpected, and very terrible temptation.

The war continued, but Count Orloff, after many noisy battles, lived in luxurious ease with the fleet. He was wont to say, "I am as happy as Enoch, who was taken up to heaven." But these were mere words, for, since he had taken an active part in placing Ekaterina upon the throne, wild and bold ideas were ever coursing through his brain.

Once, when sailing in the Adriatic with the squadron, he despatched me on a secret mission to the brave, warlike Montenegros. This was in the year 1773. The scouts made all arrangements wisely and adroitly; and at night, taking with me what I required on shore, I landed with great caution, and speedily conducted my business. But on our return voyage we were sighted and pursued by the Turkish coastguards. We succeeded in defending ourselves for a considerable time; but in the end our sailors were all killed, while I, severely wounded in the shoulder, lay unconscious at the bottom of the boat, where I was found, and whence I was removed, a prisoner, to Stamboul.

I was disguised in a national Albanian costume. Nevertheless, my captors discovered that I belonged to the Russian navy, and, at first, thinking no doubt that they would receive a good ransom for me, paid me great attention. Ah! thought I, as soon as they find out that their prisoner is no other than Lieutenant Konsov, who threw the first fire-ball which caused the explosion and destruction of their staffship at Chesma, what will my lot be then?

My imprisonment lasted for about two years, coming to an end in the year 1775.

At first I was kept shut up in one of the wings of a seven-towered castle, but afterwards I was chained and confined in one of the three hundred mecheti of Stamboul. I don't know whether at last, by some means, the Turks learned that one of their prisoners was Konsov, or whether, having lost all hopes of a ransom, they resolved to take advantage of my knowledge and abilities; but this I know, they tried to convert me to Mohammedanism.

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