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Updated: June 1, 2025
Count Potemkin, the leader of the Russian army, was one of the worst specimens of the old aristocracy, which now, in many parts of Europe, have gone down into a grave whence, it is to be hoped, there can be no resurrection. The Turkish town of Ismael was taken in September, 1790, after enormous slaughter.
And when the streets of Moscow were agog with the grotesque amazing adventure of the Potemkin mutineers, Prothero was in the full tide of the private romance that severed him from Benham and sent him back to Cambridge changed. Before they reached Moscow Benham was already becoming accustomed to disregard Prothero.
The next great exploit of Suwarrow was performed at Ismail, a Turkish town which Potemkin had been besieging for seven months. The prime minister at length grew impatient at the delay, and determined on more effective measures.
He was laid out in a meadow and covered with his cloak, and there Potemkin breathed his last sigh, on the 15th of October, 1791, in the arms of Countess Branicka, his niece. Plato Zouboff, a young lieutenant of the guard, succeeded Potemkin in the favour of the Empress, who showered honours and wealth upon him.
Potemkin took the etui and without opening it laid it on the table beside him. "Ah," said he, with a shrug, "his majesty sends me the Black Eagle. I am much obliged to him, but really I have so many orders that I have nowhere left to wear them, and how to dispose of this new one I scarcely know.
"Could I love you more if you were an emperor, Gregory? But, hush! He comes, and as soon as his visit is ended, return to me, for I must see you." Potemkin kissed her hand again and again, and vanished through the tapestry by a secret door, which led to a small corridor connected with the czarina's private apartments.
"Who are you, brother?" said he. "It is I," replied the courier, "who brought dispatches from Prince Potemkin yesterday evening." "What!" exclaimed Suwarrow, with affected passion, "what! you bring me news from my sovereign! you have been here since yesterday, and I have not yet received the dispatches!"
"If your king comes to me exclusively mark me well, EXCLUSIVELY for advice, I am willing to serve him." "Your highness may see that my sovereign addresses himself to you alone," replied the minister, handing him a letter in Frederick's own handwriting. Potemkin, without any appearance of surprise, took it and broke the seal.
"Nothing less than Voltaire's 'Death of Julius Caesar' would suit such an occasion; but God forbid that your highness should come to harm! I hasten to do your bidding." Potemkin, trembling with impatience, stood watching Count Cobenzl, as with his mincing gait he tripped out of the room, and turned again at the door to make his last bow.
"Pretty good," sneered Potemkin, "but unfortunately not original, for the little count received a similar compliment in Paris. Go on." "Then the emperor visited the Academy of Arts, and there he found a portfolio of engravings, among which was an excellent portrait of himself with this inscription: 'Multorum providus urbes et mores honaivum inspexit."
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