<SPAN name="chap27"></SPAN>
<h3> CHARLOTTE, PRINCESS OF RUSSIA. </h3>
<h4>
A.D. 1752.
</h4>
<p>The Czarovitch Alexis, son of Peter the Great of Russia, was married in
October 1711, at Torgau, to the Princess Charlotte of Brunswick. In
July of the following year, being then only eighteen years of age, the
young bride made her public entry into St. Petersburg. She is always
described as an amiable and beautiful girl, and was, so it is averred,
the choice of Alexis himself. Be this as it may, there can be no doubt
that the Czarovitch treated his youthful consort with neglect, even if
he did not brutally ill-use her; some authorities, indeed, asserting
that he frequently struck her, although, as she was liked and protected
by the Czar, his father, of whom he stood in considerable dread, this
scarcely seems probable. Alexis gave up his time to the society of a
favourite girl of the lowest extraction, and amid various kinds of
debauchery forgot or ignored the existence of his wife, and the two
children she bore him, one of whom, a daughter, died in childhood;
whilst the other, a son, ultimately became Peter the Second. Some
ascribe the intense antipathy Alexis appeared to entertain for his
unfortunate wife to a belief he entertained that she complained of him
to the Czar, who frequently, and in no very measured terms, took
occasion to expostulate with him on his conduct to his wife.</p>
<p>Soon after the birth of her second child the Princess grew dangerously
ill, and her malady was heightened by the deep melancholia which had
for some time past preyed upon her. It was soon seen that her case was
hopeless; and every one, save the Princess herself, and her abandoned
husband, appeared to be deeply affected. Alexis never came near his
dying wife, whilst the poor Princess herself appeared to be only too
willing to escape from the miseries of life. She seemed to anticipate
death as a merciful release from her troubles, and implored the
physicians not to torment her any longer, as she was resolved to die.</p>
<p>On the day before her death she dictated a document addressed to the
Czar, in which she left all the funeral arrangements to him, and
recommended both her children to his care and affection, so that they
"might be educated according to their birth and position." Her jewels
and valuables she left to her children; her dresses to her cousin and
dear companion, the Princess of Courland; requested that her debts
might be discharged, and the expenses of those who had accompanied her
to Russia defrayed home. She thanked the Czar and his wife Catherine
for their kindness to her, and, in fact, left arrangements for all her
worldly matters. On the following day, November 1st, 1715, she died,
and, despite the fact that she died in the Lutheran faith, although she
had been strongly solicited to abjure it for the Greek Church, out of
respect for her memory the Czar had her remains interred with regal
pomp in the Cathedral Church of St. Peter and St. Paul at St.
Petersburg.</p>
<p>The foregoing particulars have been thus minutely given in order that
the great improbability of the story told by the adventuress who
subsequently assumed her name and rank might be rendered the more
manifest. According to the story told by a woman who appeared in
France about the middle of the last century, and claimed to be the
deceased Princess Charlotte, the Princess, soon after the birth of her
son, taking advantage of the Czar's absence from his capital, caused a
report of her death to be circulated. The Czarovitch, who not having
paid any attention to her when alive, was scarcely likely to give
himself much trouble about her dead, was averred to have ordered the
body to be buried without delay; whereupon, according to the claimant's
statement, a piece of wood was substituted for the supposed corpse, and
was interred within the Cathedral, whilst the Princess made good her
escape into France.</p>
<p>A woman who had resigned her home and infant children in order to avoid
the worry of a husband's neglect or brutality, would be expected to
return to her father's home; but this princess, it is alleged, first
made good her retreat to France, and then, still apprehensive of
discovery, notwithstanding the fact of the burial of her supposed
remains, embarked for the United States, and settled in Louisiana.
There she met a French sergeant who had formerly been in St.
Petersburg, and all unregardful of her royal birth, married him, and
bore him a daughter. In 1752, this <i>ci devant</i> princess, accompanied
by her French husband, visited Paris, and as she was walking in the
Tuileries was seen and recognized, after all those years of change, by
Marshal Saxe, who, however, gallantly promised not to betray her
secret, and kindly procured a commission for her husband in the Isle of
Bourbon, whither the strangely assorted couple went. Having lost her
second husband and her child, the doubly bereaved princess returned to
Paris in 1754, in the company of a negress. Getting into difficulties,
in consequence of the East India Company refusing the bills she had
brought with her in her husband's name, through her inability to prove
herself to have been his wife, she took the opportunity of revealing
her real rank to a gentleman who had known her in the Isle of Bourbon
and, consequently, was induced to offer her his assistance. Soon after
this wonderful revelation the <i>soi disant</i> princess disappeared, but it
was supposed that she had retired to the court of her nephew, the Duke
of Brunswick. The King of France, it was averred, had long known the
whole circumstances, and had even enjoined the Governor of the Isle of
Bourbon to pay her the honours due to her rank. He also, it is said,
sent an account of the discovery in his own handwriting to Maria
Theresa, the Empress, who immediately wrote to the supposed princess,
her aunt, and, doubtless, thinking a woman who had abandoned one
husband and family would not be more particular over the next, advised
her to quit her present husband and child, whom the King of France
promised to provide for, and come and reside in Vienna. This female
claimant seems to have utterly disappeared after the bill transaction
in Paris, but her story, told in a dozen different ways, may be read in
the histories and memoirs of the last century.</p>
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