CHAPTER I.

A YOUNG GIRL'S LETTER.

Moscow, July 28, 1744. MY COUSIN: That you are young, handsome, the heir to the empire of Russia, and aware of all your advantages, is entirely too much for a poor girl like me. Allow me to return to the obscurity whence the goodness of the Empress Elisabeth has brought me. Let me retire to Stettin, and take back my old name of Sophia Augusta, the name given me by my mother, while you give to the happy woman who is to be your choice, the name of Catherine Alexiowna, which is to belong to the future empress of Russia.

Believe me, cousin, this is no childish caprice, nor the result of pique, caused by your behaviour. No! Remember our first interview, and you will understand my motive for this determination; for in the midst of the ceremony of our betrothment, had I, the future companion of your life, a thought, a word, a look, from you? Let me tell you, then, what, as a witness and party concerned, you are perhaps ignorant of.

Brought up by my mother, Jane Elisabeth of Holstein, my only amusements have been the study of languages, and long walks and rides in the neighbourhood of Stettin. My horizon, as you know, was limited; and I wished for nothing beyond.

A command from the empress suddenly changed my destiny. One morning the Prince Christian Augustus, of Anhaltzerbt, my honoured father, sent for me, and announced to me that I was to be sent to Moscow with my mother, there to be betrothed to Peter the Third, son of Charles Frederic, Duke of Holstein, Gottorp, and of Anne, eldest daughter of the Czar, Peter the First. I bowed my head in submission; and my mother and I set out the next day. When one is but fifteen years old, change of place is always agreeable. I was going to see the court, a fine city, and curiosity held my mind open and apt to receive with eagerness all the pleasures which were offered to it.

The day of our betrothment came. I was to see, for the first time, the man who was to be my master, my husband; and believe me, cousin, it was not merely curiosity which agitated my heart, it was a fear a presentiment which I had never

before known. I was in fact struck with a sort of terror, when the empress placed my hand in yours, saying, "Catherine Alexiowna, I betroth you to my heir, Peter the Third." I did not dare for some time to raise my eyes to your face. I expected to find in my future husband the terrible majesty of a king united to the gracious indulgence of a husband. Judge of my astonishment, when my mother whispered in my ear, "Don't be so pale; look at him!" I obeyed, and saw, forgive me, cousin-I saw a child-not one like myself, full of timidity and frankness, but a child, already an emperor in his arrogance, and not taking any notice of me, except by doing all he could to make me feel my own inferiority. It was too much for my heart; that evening I felt my first sorrow.

Cousin, I know not whether feelings of pride and ambition may ever come in future to choke my resolution, but now, when I am still nothing but a young girl-now, I refuse the hand of Peter the Third and the empire of Russia.

It is in literature and the study of the arts, that she who was lately baptized under the name of Catherine, will seek her future glory and happiness. Be happy, cousin.

CATHERINE ALEXIOWNA.

This letter was given to an officer of the imperial palace, to be immediately delivered to the prince; and the girl who, with the carelessness of a child, had refused an empire, went, with a very serious air, to seek her mother.

"I am in great trouble," said she to her; "do you remember the poor Frenchman, Mr. Marcel, who taught me my first French lesson, six years ago, at Stettin! Mr. Brasdorf informs me that the poor man is living behind the Kremlin in the greatest poverty, with his daughter; and he him. self has had a paralysis in his limbs. I sent him money by Mr. Brasdorf; but he refused to accept it, saying he was not a beggar. What am I to do! I have been thinking that if you have no objection, madam, I will resume my French lessons with him to-morrow."

"But, my dear Catherine, you would be obliged to go to him for your lessons; and I have no doubt but that you must pay him very high."

"I do not mind that. I should like to begin today."

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"Well, do so. Let Madame Brasdorf go with you. But how is it that you ask me nothing of the prince, your betrothed husband?"

"Why should I trouble myself about him, when he will not trouble himself about me?" replied Catherine, blushing to her ears.

"My daughter," answered the princess mildly, "you must not judge too hastily. It is true, you have not heard from Peter for a month. But you know he is not his own master, and perhaps ·

"I know how it is, exactly; but let us leave the subject of Peter and his empire, before they leave me, in their turn."

"Catherine, Catherine!" added her mother, laughing, "you will be very much surprised in a few days, when you will hear something that you have no idea of now. But go; I see you are impatient to be gone. Go and see what you can do for your old master."

Catherine did not wait to be told a second time; and any who had met a little girl, very plainly dressed, and her face entirely covered with a brown hood, in company with an old woman, in the streets of Moscow, would never have taken her for the future empress of all the Russias-she whom Voltaire afterwards called the great Catherine..

CHAPTER II.

THE FRENCH MASTER.

Mr. Marcel was one of those unfortunate men who neither know how to make money, nor to keep it when it is made. He was a man of great scientific attainments, and had been left a widower, with an only daughter. He was now very poor, and on account of his sickness, unable to go out to give lessons.

That morning, on which Catherine wrote the above-mentioned letter, the following discussion had arisen between the father and daughter. "I am cold," said the father.

"We have no more wood or charcoal," replied the daughter.

"Could you not go buy some?"
"I have no money."

"Then we must do without it."
"My poor father."

"It is not for myself that I grieve; but for you, my poor Angelique. But it is the will of God, and I submit."

At this moment a knock was heard at the door. Angelique opened it, and a young girl appeared, and ran up to the old man, throwing her arms round his neck, and exclaiming, "My old master!"

"Mademoiselle Sophia Augusta! at Moscow!" And the little girl sat down on the offered chair, saying, "I will tell you bye-and-bye how I came here. All I want now is for you to give me some more French lessons; for I have forgotten everything you taught me."

"Everything, Mademoiselle! what a pity, for you learned so well."

"But you know I have a very bad memory. Let us begin now, if you please."

"Now! let us talk a little while first." "And the French lessons, Mr. Marcel!" "We can begin to-morrow."

"No, no, I must begin to-day, or I should lose an hour of French, and you some money."

"The pleasure of talking with you is worth all the roubles in the world."

"You are the same good old master as you ever were. Well, we will wait until to-morrow, but in the mean time here are some roubles," and she placed a purse in Angelique's hand, saying, "Give me some French in exchange."

"Ah, you should not pay in advance, M'selle Sophie," said Mr. Marcel.

"Masters always want money."

"I cannot contradict that, my dear scholar, but I am old, and if I should die before" "To work, to work," exclaimed Catherine gaily.

"Madame, forgive our ignorance, but my father and I, living in great solitude, never hear anything at all, and the Empire of Russia might change a thousand times, and we might never hear of it; but, father, you do not know that the young lady who comes here every day, and whom we call Sophia Augusta, is no less a personage than Catherine Alexiowna, the betrothed of Peter the Third, the future Empress of all the Russias."

"You are mistaken, my dear Angelique," said Catherine, laughing, "for I refused the hand of Peter the Third and the Empire of Russia a week ago."

"How is that?"

"I should have accepted the Empire of Russia, if I could have had it without the hand of Peter the Third."

"He is said to be very handsome," said Mr. Marcel.

"Too handsome; that is the reason I will have nothing to do with him."

"Nobody will ever refuse me for that reason," said a strange voice, and a youth of about sixteen years of age, entered the room. His figure was good and majestic; but his face was dreadfully disfigured by marks of the smallpox.

"You are certainly not handsome, my new scholar," said Mr. Marcel, "but do not be downcast; if you are rich and of a good family, that will not prevent you from marrying."

"That is precisely what I am afraid of, my dear master. I am betrothed to a young lady whom I love very much; but she does not know that I have had the smallpox, and when she sees me-she will be frightened!"

"Frightened, oh no! What do you think, Catherine?"

"The gentleman's ugliness would not frighten me."

"Oh, say that over again, Mademoiselle, I entreat you, for the one I am to marry resembles you in her beauty and the noble traits of her character. She is born for a throne. She is no less than Catherine Alexiowna."

"And you are then!" exclaimed Catherine, so astonished that she was unable to finish her sentence.

"Peter the Third, who did not answer your letter, because no letter can destroy a proceeding legitimated by my actions. You have not been told of my sickness; but I shall rejoice in the ugliness it has given me, if you will retract your letter."

"With all my heart," exclaimed Catherine,

eagerly; for her letter had been written to the Peter the Third of a month ago, not the one she saw before her.

During this conversation, the poor French master was in a condition which it is impossible to describe. He wanted to get up to render homage to the two august personages before him, but his paralysed limbs refused him this service. Catherine was the first who observed his embarrassment.

"Sit still, dear master, I am going back to the palace, and will leave you to give your new scholar a lesson;" and, wrapping her cloak round her, she prepared to depart, saying in a low voice as she passed by Peter,

"We are still betrothed."

"A thousand thanks!" replied Peter, with the deepest emotion.

And the Princess kept her word, and a year afterwards, on the first of September, 1745, their marriage was celebrated with great pomp.

Catherine ranked among the greatest sovereigns of Europe; and she deserved this by the monuments and useful institutions which distinguished her reign, and by her wise edicts. She favoured commerce and reformed legislation, founded hospitals, built cities, constructed canals, and caused the arts to flourish in her kingdom.

At the time of the burning of Moscow, Napoleon betrayed his high opinion of her, by not allowing any injury to happen to the school founded by her for the education of orphans, where 6,000 girls were brought up gratuitously.

Catherine intended to re-establish the Empire of the Moguls, and destroy the dominion of the English in Bengal, when she was carried off by an apoplexy, in 1796, at the age of 67, after a reign of 33 years, which did not begin until the death of Peter the Third, who was assassinated on the 9th of July, 1762.

As wont the morn with varied hue,
Announc'd the god of day,
While pure and pearly drops of dew,

Hung trembling on each spray.
And 'neath his light they took a glow,
Like beam of angel's eye;

But as they glow'd, they waned too,
And pass'd into the sky.

Thus Julia in life's early dawn,

As pure, as bland, as bright,

As e'en those pearly drops of morn,-
Reflects her Maker's light.

But ah! like sun with scorching ray,
He illness too has given,
And she must pine and waste away,
Like dew-drop into heaven.