"The Pearl": a nobleman defies social conventions

"The Pearl: A True Tale

of Forbidden Love in Catherine the Great's Russia"

by Douglas Smith

Yale University Press, 284 pp., $35

A love story between the richest nobleman in Imperial Russia and a young serf with a spellbinding operatic voice — the scribbler of a bodice-ripper romance novel could not ask for better stuff. Now, imagine the same story undertaken with meticulous historical research of thousands of archival documents, crafted by a scholar who moves with impressive agility between the past and present, among English, Russian and German.

Author Douglas Smith, a resident scholar at the University of Washington, is one of a small circle of people on the planet who could think up this book — and have the gray matter to do it well. Smith is not a showy writer, but he is anything but distant from his subject. He's caught up in the romance of his story, yet stays tethered to facts and moves us through a complex society with ease.

Reading about Russians of the 18th and early 19th centuries usually feels like wandering through one of those garden mazes made of high, dense hedges. One has the sense of being somewhere very interesting but in peril of being hopelessly lost every few minutes. "The Pearl's" clear narrative (and the author's blessed decision to keep those endless derivatives of Russian names to a minimum) keeps things humming along.

The rarity of a marriage like that between Count Nicholas Sheremetev and Praskovia Kovalyova in 1801, three years after he granted her freedom, is hard to overstate. An affair between an aristocrat and his slave — which is precisely what a serf was — wasn't unusual, particularly if she was one of the popular actors and singers who performed in elaborate estate troupes of the day. Yet this couple's long relationship, beginning as mature patron and promising young singer and continuing until her death at 34 shortly after bearing their lawful son, was completely unprecedented.

Praskovia, a folk heroine in Russian poetry and song, had by all accounts a captivating voice and commanding presence while still a girl. The historical clues to this diva's life are thin, and Smith's detective work is impressive. His ability to convey what he knows versus what he supposes is particularly skilled.

The Count's lifelong defiant rejection of the rigid class structure of Catherine the Great's era is intriguing, but more so is the picture Smith creates of the serfs' insular world:

"If the hundreds of house serfs that served in Nicholas's homes saw themselves as a cut above the poor ignorant peasants, then the theater troupe was a rung higher still. They formed a quasi-aristocracy among the hundreds of thousands of Sheremetev serfs."

Performers in the troupe lived lives considerably more demanding than those who toiled only in the kitchens and fields. Every minute of the performers' days was scheduled and controlled by their master, an exhausting sort of artistic house arrest. Capturing this world plays to Smith's tireless researching abilities and good touch with detail:

"Each performer's place within the hierarchy of the troupe was immediately and unavoidably evident by what she wore, by where she slept, by the strength of her cup of tea, by the color of her bread."

"The Pearl," with its come-hither subtitle, will lure many a reader seeking breathless romance. The lovers' story is a remarkable tale to be sure, but what most surprises and lingers is the revelation of this world of enslaved artists who served virtually every need of their country's ruling class, and until now remained largely hidden to most of us.