GREGORY ALEXANDROVICH, a famous Russian statesman, was born of a noble though poor family at Smolensk in 1736. He was an ensign in the Horse Guards when an incident occurred which set him upon the road to eminence. Happening to be in St Petersburg on the day of the revolution of 1762, and seeing that Catherine II., as she rode through among the ranks, had no tassel upon her sword, he presented her with the missing badge from his own weapon. This act of gallantry caught the queen's attention; the manly beauty and noble bearing of the young soldier affected her susceptible heart; and the ardent manner in which he responded to her amorous advances completed the impression. In no long time he was installed as favourite, and occupied a suite of apartments in the palace. It is true that the fickle royal heart soon transferred its affections to another. But by that time his grotesque and extraordinary character had begun to command attention in the political world. Up from among his sluggishness, sensuality, extravagance, and whimsicality, there had sprung into action, as if spontaneously, a strong intellect, which easily rendered him the prince of tuft-hunters. The other votaries of civil power soon began to feel that they could not stand before him. Their hearts lay open to the gaze of his instinctive insight; their intrigues could not escape his ready observation; and their downfall was speedily effected by his dexterous policy. Ministers, generals, and favourites he raised like puppets before the public, used them for a while, and when he was tired threw them aside. Catherine herself, with all her decision and force of character, could not escape from his influence. With delicate tact he laid his hand upon the springs of her conduct, and controlled them to his own advantage. He gained her ear by flattery; he earned her gratitude by the invincible energy with which he fulfilled her behests; and he won her admiration by the striking projects which he formed for extending the bounds of the empire. His very faults were not without their effect. It was interesting to the queen to see the giant put off his intellectual armour, and lounge in undress for several successive weeks, playing at chess or cards from morning till night. Potemkin having thus attained to the virtual possession of the supreme power, began to use it with the most unbounded license. He drew upon the public treasury for money to gratify his extravagant epicurean taste. He insulted, bullied, and cuffed the nobility upon the slightest provocation. He even murmured, chafed, and resisted when his royal mistress attempted to cross his wishes. His condition, in fact, was more like the state of an Asiatic potentate than the position of a European subject. The Taurian palace, a superb edifice embodying the very highest ideas of luxury and magnificence, was erected for his residence. There he was wont to dream away his existence, surrounded by every circumstance of wealth, and pomp, and power. Diamonds were his playthings, which he threw aside as soon as he was tired. The revenues of vast estates were his pocket-money, which he recklessly squandered on the gratification of his meanest desire. Crowds of attendants stood by, ready to carry into execution his every passing whim. Aristocratic courtiers truckled before him, craving his interest for some high appointment. There was scarcely an honour in Europe which was not lavished upon him. Crowned potentates in different countries ennobled him with every kind of dignity and honour. His own sovereign often paid him a visit, adding new lustre to his gorgeous halls by the beauty and effulgence of her court. He was, in fine, the possessor of every gift that the world could bestow, when Fate, as if envious of such an unclouded prosperity, interposed to lure him on to his destruction. It was in 1787 that Prince Potemkin, bent upon achieving some military feat, and thus winning the ribbon of St George, undertook the command of an unfortunate war against the Turks. Success, it is true, attended him at first. His energy was as restless in battle as it had been in politics; Oczakow was taken by a terrific storming; in 1788; and in 1791 he returned to St Petersburg to be honoured, enricbed, and feted in a manner worthy of an emperor. But after his return to the scene of war, a deadly epidemic seized upon him at Jassy in 1792. In vain did the robust giant laugh at it, eat and drink more voraciously to show his contempt for it, and think to shake it off by setting out to Nicolaiaff. The disease only fixed its fangs the deeper. On the road he became alarmingly sensible that it was mastering him. He aighted in terror, fell down upon the grass by the wayside, and immediately expired. (See Biog. Univ.; Tooke's Reign of Catherine II., 3 vols., 1799; and Mémoires de Catherine II., écrits par elle-même, 1859.)