FULL TEXT (Article 1 of 2): A few
weeks since we reported a sensational murder in Venice, in which a young
Russian of good birth, named Naumofi, was arrested for the murder of Count
Kamarovsky, and a notorious Russian beauty of good birth but ill repute,
Countess Tarnowsky, and a lawyer named Prilukoff were also arrested as
accessories to a most diabolical murder plot.
The “New York World” gives a most
sensational history of the countess and of this particular crime. It says: –
The fatal woman, with her usual train of infatuated men, has reappeared. As in
all such cases, she is beautiful, selfish, ruthless, and cruel.
At least six men have ruined
themselves for her. Two of these met tragic deaths on her account; two are in
prison; and four of them deserted wives and children. She is now in prison,
awaiting trial on a charge of murder, and has confessed, recklessly, even
nonchalantly.
All the characters in this tragedy
are Russian, except one Pole, who appears upon the stage for a moment, just
long enough to be kissed once – and shot.
The woman in the case – the real
vampire, she cannot he called a “heroine,” except in the sense in which that
much abused word is applied to the chief female role in a tragedy – the woman
is the Countess Maria Nicolalevna Tarnowsky, beautiful, slender, blonde,
perfumed. Her adventures began early in life. She was born at Poltava, of a
noble family called Oruk, which, it is said, was founded by an Irishman named O’Rourke.
She was educated at Kieff, in a college for noble girls which has turned out
more than one female bomb-thrower. In her goings and comings from to and from
school, Miss Oruk was seen by Count Tarnowsky, who fell desperately in love
with her. At the age of seventeen he kidnapped her from the college, which was
exactly what she most desired. The Count, however, made amends by marrying her.
They had two sons.
One evening in their home at Kieff,
the Countess Tarnowsky, in the presence of the Count, threw her arms around the
neck of a handsome young Pole who had been paying assiduous court to her, and
kissed him passionately upon the lips. Count Tarnowsky did what every Russian
nobleman is expected to do under such circumstances – drew a. revolver from his
pocket and blew out the young man’s brains. He was tried for homicide and, of
course, acquitted, he obtained a divorce; and the court gave him custody of the
children. Here, Count Tarnowsky disappears from the stage.
The divorced Countess plunged at once
into the vortex of unrestrained passion. She left Kieff for a time, but
reappeared there with a banker as protector, and immediately became the queen
of a little salon, in which rich men risked their money over the green baize
tables, when they were not risking their hearts. What a fascinating woman the
Countess Tarnowsky is may be gathered from the way she led Prilukoff, a Moscow
lawyer, astray. Prilukoff had a splendid practice, a loving wife, and a son 13
years old; he was making from $12,000 to $15,000 a year, and was looked upon as
a highly respectable and happy member of society. One day the Countess
Tarnowsky appeared in his office, and engaged him as counsel. From that day,
wife, son, home, clients, were forgotten, swallowed up in the ardent passion of is Russian
blood, now ablaze for the first time. He became madly in love with his new
client, and sacrificed everything in the world for her. The inevitable divorce
followed. Prilukoff’s practice was neglected and he sank deeper and deeper into
the whirlpool of debt. His personal fortune exhausted, he appropriated the
funds of his client. In despair he decided to kill himself. At that time he was
60,000 roubles short in his accounts.
The doctors saved the ruined
attorney, and he left the hospital to begin a life of wandering about the world
with the Countess. Berlin, Vienna, Monaco, Paris, Budapest, and Venice knew the
precious pair of adventurers. Prilukoff travelled under different names, now
calling himself Zelser, now Jean de Roussie, now Derugie, then Seilak, and
again Neirson. But under whatever name he was
travelling Prilukoff was ready to do anything for the woman who had ruined him.
And at her feet fell almost all the men who met her.
During their wanderings, the fugitive
lawyer and his Countess ran across a youth named Naumoff, a son of the ex
Governor of Permile was good looking, of a noble family, and married; but he
fell in love with the implacable Countess. He, too, had his divorce, and became
Madame Tarnowsky’s willing slave. Whether she played him and Prilukoff against
each other, or whether she and Prilukoff conspired together to use him as their
tool is uncertain, but the latter supposition is the more probable, and is
substantiated by the confessions of the woman and of Prilukoff. to the Viennese police.
Naumoff, at any rate, believed the Countess loved him, and he fully expected to
marry her. She wrote to him and telegraphed to him whenever he was awn sending
him many assurances of her ardent devotion.
This strange trio were joined by a
fourth character in the summer just passed. This was Count Kamafoysky, a Russian nobleman by
ancient lineage, a colonel of the National Guard, a Councillor of State, a
widower with one young sons tall, slender, distinguished looking, .and most
important of all a millionaire. He, like the
others, fell in love with the Countess; but he was a gentleman, and thought of
nothing but an honourable marriage. With truly Machiavellian coyness she
temporised, until the Count’s desire was so piqued that he was ready to consent
to any conditions she might impose. And she planned with diabolical skill to
turn this nobleman’s infatuation into cash. At her request he made a will in
her favour, leaving her everything but his estates, which were to go to his
son, and insured his life in her favour, taking out a policy for 500,000
roubles. This done, she promised to marry him he took her to his aged mother, and
introduced her as his affianced bride. But Countess Tarnowsky had no idea of
marrying him, as the sequel will show.
The Count was living last summer in a
fine apartment on the floor of the Hotel Bristol, in Vienna. He had another
suite on the third floor for his little boy Edgar, the latter’s governess, and
the Countess Tarnowsky. The boy’s governess acted as maid to the Countess, and
in gossiping with the hotel servants told them that her master and mistress
were soon to be married.
Prilukoff was also living at the
hotel. His room adjoined that of the Countess, and they were in the habit of
taking long automobile rides together. It was a delicate situation, but the
Countess handled it skilfully, driving her little flock to the shambles with a
bewitching smile, and smoking innumerable perfumed cigarettes. Kumarovsky did
not know Prilukoff, and the latter avoided letting Kamarovsky or his little boy
see that he knew the Countess. The elaborate care that Prilukoff took in this
direction had much to do with his implication in the murder that resulted, for
the hotel people noticed it with wonder, and afterwards told the police about
it. The Count was careful of the lady’s reputation, never went to her room, and
was never seen alone with her in short, he behaved in every respect like a
gentleman.
Naumoff was living in another hotel
in Vienna. He was a frequent caller upon the Countess, and she visited him on
at least one occasion. He was wild with jealousy of Kamarovsky. Upon this,
jealousy Prilukoff and Madame Tarnowsky played, with great skill. That they
deliberately planned to use the infatuated young Naumoff to pull their
chestnuts out of the fire subsequent events, seems to make certain.
Countess Tarnowsky left Vienna for
Kieff on October 26, taking with her Count Katnarovsky’s little boy and the
governess. The Count left for Venice the next day.
Naumoff had gone for a visit to
Russia, where he was plied with love-letters and telegrams from the
Countess. There came an insulting,
telegram, purporting to come from Kamarovsky, his hated rival, in which the
Countess’s character was besmirched and Naumoff was sneered at contemptuously.
Of course, Kamarovsky did not send this telegram, for he scarcely knew Naumoff.
The despatch had been carefully framed to; influence the youth’s mind to the
point of desperation. It had the desired effect; and Naumoff started post haste
for Venice, which he reached on September 4. He went straight to Count
Kamarovsky’s house, was shown to his room, where he found him dressing for
dinner, and shot him. The rest of the story has already been told how Naumoff
was followed and arrested, and how the Countess and Prilukoff were also
subsequently taken into custody as accessories before the fact, and as
conspirator’s for the commission of the crime.
Countess Tarnowsky took it very
calmly, said it was all a terrible mistake, and that she had simply been trying
to protect the man she loved from A mad-man who was in love with her. When told
that the Count was dead she turned on the tears like a great actress. But the
Chief of Police showed her the evidence, her telegrams and letters, and those
of Prilukoff. Then she collapsed, and made a full confession. She said she did
not love Kamarovsky, and had sought to get his money without having to marry
him. At the same time; she said, she wanted to get rid of young Naumoff, of
whom she had tired. But, she insisted, the plot to get rid of both of them with
one blow .by egging Naumoff on and exciting his jealousy to such a point that
he would kill his rival was Prilukoff’s and not hers, her only guilt being that
she took no steps to prevent Prilukoff from accomplishing his designs.
“Do with me what you will,” she said,
“but let me have a Russian priest. I must make my peace with God. And let me
have my child’s photograph.”
She closed by demanding that, her
meals be sent in from Sacher’s, and that her mail and her clothes be sent to
her Prilukoff took his arrest quietly, and asked only that cold beer be
supplied to him in prison. The refusal of this favour seemed to worry him more
than anything else. And so the vampire and her willing victims will pass from the stage probably
into life imprisonment, for there is no death penalty in Italy.
[“A Terrible Woman Countess
Tarnowtky’s Amazing Career.” Clarence and Richmond Examiner (Grafton,
NSW, Australia), Dec. 28, 1907, p. 8]
***
FULL TEXT (Article 2 of 2): Early in 1910
the Assize Court at Venice was the centre of interest for the entire
newspaper-reading world, for the trial was proceeding there of the ravishingly
beautiful Countess Tarnowski, “the woman whom it was death to love.”
Others were on trial there with her, her lovers and accomplices,
but it was the wonderful, strange personality of the siren Countess herself
that held everybody in thrall. Her mere physical beauty was such that the judge ordered her at one point to lower her
veil, as he noticed her marvellously seductive glances were being used to try
to favourably influence certain of the jurymen, and he evidently feared that
she might succeed in her design.
The crime for which she and the
others were being tried was murder, the murder of her betrothed husband, who had, at her instigation, insured his
life in her
favour for £20,000. And as the evidence proceeded, a story of love and passion
was unfolded of so romantic and extraordinary a character as surely never
before was heard in a court of justice.
The Countess Tarnowski was thirty at
the time of her
trial, and the opening scenes of the drama began some fourteen years
previously, when she was sixteen. Beautiful as a dream even then, she was
scarcely out of the schoolroom ere she attracted the attention of Count
Tarnowski, a Russian official.
He married her, but her married life was a far
from happy one. Her husband turned out to be a dissolute brute, who ill-treated her, arid also introduced her into some very doubtful
society.
This was the beginning of her downfall. Seeing her unhappy, other men made
love to her. She
resisted their overtures, she alleged, until one of them, a certain M.
Borgewski, in order to prove his devotion to her, allowed her to fire a loaded rifle at his right hand at close range,
shattering it horribly. “Then,” said the Countess, “I knew that he really loved
me, and I gave myself to him.”
News of the affair, however, came to
the ears of her
husband, who shot Borgewski, wounding him mortally. This was not done in a
duel, but openly in a public place.
Borgewski was actually in the company
of the Countess at the time, and the bullet, after piercing his body, passed
through the brim of the hat she was wearing. Borgowski died in the arms of his
mistress, protesting his love to the last. Count Tarnowski divorced his, wife,
and thence onwards. her descent was rapid. Lover after lover basked for more or less
brief periods in the sunshine of her affections, giving up all for her, and ruin and death was
their reward.
One of her victims was her own brother in-law, a mere
boy of sixteen, who, for love of her, and because she betrayed him, blew, out his brains. Another
was a gallant young officer, Lieutenant Vladimir Stahl, who fought with
distinction throughout the Russo-Japanese war. Re turning when peace was
proclaimed, he met the enchantress. She persuaded him to leave his young and
pretty wife, who adored him, and follow her.
Death also claimed him. He shot
himself on finding out that his mistress was a wanton. Yet even in death he forgave
her. The letter
he wrote to her a
few minutes before he committed suicide concluded as follows: “All is finished,
I kiss you and die.”
Ghosts ought to have haunted her by
this time, but apparently they did not. She pursued unchecked her reckless career, flitting
from one gay capital to another, Paris, Vienna, St. Petersburg, Berlin. Lover
succeeded lover, for her extravagance knew no bounds, and not even the wealthiest
could stand her
for long, Prince Trubetzoki lavished £80,000 upon her, and was dismissed with a
wave of the hand when financial ruin stared him in the face. The same thing
happened as regards Paul Tolstoi, a relation of the novelist.
Two of her wealthy admirers were
named Zolatareff and Zodo. Alluding to the initial letter of their names, she
said when dismissing them.
“I have come to the end of the
alphabet, I must begin over again.” And sure enough the next to become enmeshed
in her net was a
certain Count Azeff.
The begging of the end came when she
prevailed upon M. Prilukoff to run away with her. He was a lawyer practising in Moscow, middle-aged, with a
wife and family, and not too rich. But he held money on trust for clients.
Tarnowski knew of this. She used her wiles upon him. And he fled with her to Berlin, his pockets
bulging with stolen gold.
One lover at a time, However, was not
enough now. She must have others. She extended her favours to Nicola Naumoff, a youth of twenty, and to Colonel
Count Paul Kamarowski, a wealthy Russian. The latter she appears to have
regarded in reality with feelings akin to loathing, but she tolerated his
caresses because of his money.
“When Kamarowski fondles me,” she
once remarked to Prilukoff, “I feel as if toads were crawling over my body.”
The man and the woman looked into one
another’s eyes. “If that is so,” said Prilukoff gravely, after a pause, ‘he
must be suppressed.’
The Countess clapped her hands glee fully. “Yes,
yes,” she cried, “of course and I will prevail upon Naumoff to do the deed.”
So lightly and unconcernedly was the murder planned.
There was only one drawback to the
arrangement. If the Countess caused Kamaowski to be assassinated, she would
lose the money he was allowing her. So she told him that if
he would consent to insure his life for £20,000 she would marry him. The poor,
lovesick fool readily consented, thereby signing his own death warrant. Just at
first, though j there was a hitch. Naumoff was altogether under his mistress’s
influence in ordinary matters, yet he shrank from committing murder at her bidding.
A plot within a plot was, therefore,
concocted, with a view to induce Naumoff to kill Kamarowski. A forged telegram,
dictated by the Countess, was sent as if from Kamarowski to herself. It
contained gross insults levelled jointly against the Countess and Naumoff, and
the latter, completely hoodwinked, and mad with jealous rage, journeyed
post-haste to Venice, where Kamarowski was then residing, and shot him dead.
Before the murderer set out on his
dreadful errand, the Countess handed him a packet of chloroformed cigarettes,
where with to lull Kamarowski into insensibility.
She also gave him a poisoned dagger,
and a revolver. This latter weapon she charged with expanding bullets, and she
gave Naumoff a practical illustration how, after drugging Kamarowski, he was to
hold the barrel upwards inside his mouth so that face and forehead might in the
explosion be shattered beyond identification, as had happened in the case of her former lover, Stahl.
The trial lasted over two months, but
much of the evidence was unprintable, and had to be suppressed. Amongst the
published facts, that which most impressed people was the extraordinary hold
the siren Countess obtained upon her victims.
Not only were they constrained to
commit the most horrible crimes at her bid ding, but they did not even shrink from actual physical
torture, inflicted upon their own bodies, provided it was her hand that caused the
agony.
Thus, both Naumoff and Prilukoff told
in the witness-box how she used to cut them with knives, burn the backs of
their hands with lighted cigarettes, and tattoo various parts of their bodies,
with her long hat
pins, afterwards spraying the wounds with eau-de-Cologne. The sight of the
blood, combined with the infliction of pain, seemed to afford her delight.
“love you more the more I see you
suffer,” he would exclaim, rapturously as she threw herself panting into the
arms or the victim of the ordeal.
In the end Prilukoff was sentenced to
ten years’ solitary confinement, the Countess got eight years, while Naumoff,
the actual assassin, escaped with only three.
[“The Countess Who Tortured Her Lovers.” Albury
Banner and Wodonga Express (NSW, Australia), Dec. 1, 1911, p. 48]
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
