Prince Feliks Yusupov is best known for his part in the plot to kill Rasputin. He and his accomplices were, after a number of attempts, successful in ridding Russia of the self-styled holy man who had wrought such evil influence on Tsar Nicholas II and Empress Alexandra.
He was also the heir to one of the richest families in imperial Russia and, as such, was a prime target for the Bolsheviks in the 1917 revolution and its aftermath. He escaped into exile and brought with him those valuable family heirlooms that were readily portable. Vast canvases such as Giambattista Tiepolo's Meeting Of Antony And Cleopatra were left behind in Russia, but others, including two important Rembrandts, were smuggled out.
The paintings and artefacts were part of a collection by his ancestor Prince Nikolai Yusupov (1751-1831), heir to the Tatar khans of Kazan and perhaps the richest Russian of all in an era of immense imperial wealth.
Nikolai's appetite for art in the course of his Grand Tour of Western Europe in 1808 was voracious and eclectic. It was also fortunate, for in the course of his travels he met Voltaire, Rousseau and Beaumarchais. He also struck up a friendship with Napoleon that ultimately saved his collection from looting when France invaded Russia in 1812.
The poet Pushkin described Yusupov's venture in his Ode To A Grandee as a "learned whim", and it is under this title that the collection has been brought together from various parts of the world, for the first time since the revolution, at, appropriately, the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts in Moscow.
There are more than 300 paintings on view, with Yusupov showing a preference for French artists such as David and GuΘrin, but also for the Dutch and Flemish schools, with works from Van Dyck and the striking Drunken Brawl At The Harbour by Jan Cossiers.
Sculpture and craftworks collected by Yusupov are also on view, including antique clocks, porcelain and part of the prince's vast library. There are letters from Yusupov and the artists he patronised, carefully placed in glass cases and shielded from light by muslin drapes that each visitor must individually lift with caution in order to view the contents.
Patrons were respected in those days, artists treating them with unqualified deference and, often, unadorned sycophancy. One letter, from Jacob Hackert on July 24th, 1779, expresses the artist's "deepest respect and honour that your magnificence should order my paintings".
Prince Nikolai, it should be added, had what is described in certain parts of Ireland as "a great welcome for himself", as can be gleaned from the numerous portraits of "his magnificence" commissioned during the Grand Tour and dotted around the colonnades and halls in which the exhibition is hung.
The Hermitage in St Petersburg has overshadowed the Pushkin Museum in European and American eyes, to a large extent because of Russia's recent isolation from the West. The Pushkin is, nevertheless, one of the great art museums of the world and the result of the obsession of one man.
Ivan Tsvetayev devoted his life to the establishment of the Moscow museum; his other great contribution to art was as father of the celebrated poet Marina Tsvetayeva.
In these straitened times it is a commendable venture by the Pushkin and its associates to have put on such a big exhibition at considerable expense. The collection has been assembled by the Pushkin, the Arkhangelskoye Museum near Moscow and the St Petersburg Hermitage, of which Yusupov was once director.
Rembrandt's Painting Of A Man (1658) and Painting Of A Woman With A Feather (1660), the most important pictures in the exhibition, were among those taken out of Russia by Feliks Yusupov. They now belong to the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC, and it is understood that their insurance alone for the Moscow exhibition cost $40,000, at a time in Russia when every cent counts.
The exhibition has been rewarded by an enthusiastic reception from the Moscow public. When I went to view it, the queues reached out on to the street; a policeman at the gate allowed people to enter in batches of 100 or so, having counted similar numbers leaving.
In Soviet style, there is discrimination between admission charges for Russians and for foreigners. Locals - and I admit to bluffing my way in as one - are charged 25 roubles (75p) while foreigners have to pay 160 roubles (£4.80).
It is worth the latter fee to see the museum itself, let alone the Yusupov collection. The exhibition runs until November 11th, and visiting culture vultures who concentrate on St Petersburg would be well advised to pay attention to the capital's attractions, too.
