Poushkin was the boy's ideal from his earliest days, and it was this love for the great poet and his works that gave him the desire to enter the same Lyceum (College) at which Poushkin had been educated. This desire was realised, the completion of his course happening to coincide with the centenary celebrations of Poushkin's birth. On leaving, Prince Oleg presented to the Institution {254} a personally executed facsimile of all the Poushkin manuscripts, carefully treasured in the Poushkin museum, which were written while the poet was a student at the college. The young enthusiast afterwards conceived the idea of editing the whole of Poushkin's works in this fashion, bringing them out in loose sheets and unbound folios, and distributing them among museums and book-lovers. The work was carried out mostly by means of the most detailed and perfect photographic reproduction, not even omitting the smallest line, point, or blemish in the paper. Unhappily this labour of love was not destined to be completed, but as much as has been done is a wonder of execution and a real literary treasure. For the general reader, perhaps the most attractive pages of the biography are those that deal with the Prince's early years, recent as they are. "I sometimes try to imagine," he writes in one of the diaries of his childhood, "what would happen in my own immediate circle if I were to die. What would my friend do? I suppose he would grow pale and thin, and would fret terribly. I see him in imagination, mounting the steps of my catafalque to bid me a last good-bye, and I see mama's expression as she follows him with her eyes. "And then, suddenly, it seems curiously pleasant to have all these people thinking of me so regretfully! There flashes across my mental vision a copy of the _Novoye Vremya_, and I see on the first page, in large letters, the announcement of my death. I notice also that there is a reproduction of my photograph--and for a moment, I stop to wonder which {255} photograph they will publish. All this gives me extraordinary satisfaction. "But the pleasantest thought of all is that the _Novoye Vremya_ will print an obituary notice saying that I took my Degree at the Lyceum, that I won the Poushkin medal, and that they liked me there. Perhaps even Radloff himself may write a memoir of his late pupil. At this point, I stop ... really, I was going too far, it is very ridiculous, and I am ashamed of myself! I wrinkle my brow, and try to decide seriously whether I should really be willing to die just now. My inner consciousness tells me that actually, it would be stupid to die before having accomplished anything. No, not for the world ... I don't want to die without fame, without having done anything, without deserving to be remembered by anybody." How touching this is--especially now, when one can regard it as something like a presentiment.