inquiries made by that patriotic little band of Russians who united at
the end of 1916 to rid the Empire of its most dangerous enemy, and have
placed their secret reports in my hands. The Emperor, though
exceedingly rancorous, and though in appearance a quiet, inoffensive
little man, was yet capable of the utmost cruelty and hardness. He has
been responsible for some terrible miscarriages of justice. His
callousness is well-known. After the catastrophe of Khodinska, which
cost the lives of nearly two thousand of his subjects, he danced the
whole night at a ball given by the French Ambassador, while on reading
the telegram which told him of the disaster of Tsushima, which cost
Russia her whole fleet and the loss of so many precious lives, he made
no remark, but continued his game of tennis in the park of
Tsarskoe-Selo.
Those of his personal entourage wondered. They asked themselves whether
it was stoicism, indifference, or a strength of mind abnormal. It was
neither. Throughout the whole career of Nicholas II his only thought
had been to flee from danger, and to leave to others the task of pulling
the chestnuts from the fire.
Rasputin and his shrewd and clever fellow-traitors knew all this, and
were acting upon the Emperor's weaknesses, more especially upon His
Majesty's belief in spiritualism and his fear to thwart the imperious
declarations of his German-born wife. Alexandra Feodorovna, the complex
neurotic woman who had begun her career as Empress by determining to
exclude from Court all ladies with blemished reputations, and all those
black sheep who creep by back-stair influence into every Court of
Europe, had now under Rasputin's influence welcomed any of the monk's
lady friends, however tarnished their reputations.
There can be no doubt that the Empress's nerves were not in a sound
condition. True, she was in constant communication with Germany, and
her actions showed her readiness to betray Russia into the hands of her
own people. This fact the world ought to take into consideration. The
Empress is the most interesting character-study in the world to-day. We
can have no sympathy with those who are traitors, yet it has been
clearly proved that the horrors of the Revolution had left a deep
impression on her mind. She had no fatalism in her character, and she
lived in daily dread of seeing her children and husband murdered. She
had no courage. Her highly-strung nature took more seriously to the
soothing effect of the evil monk Rasputin's teaching than would the mind
of a woman of normal calibre; hence, while "Nikki" her husband believed
implicitly in "dear Gregory's" advice, she also believed him to be the
heaven-sent deliverer of Russia, to wrest it from disaster, and to give
to the poor little Tsarevitch good health as Heir to the Romanoff
dynasty.
Those latter days of 1916 were truly strenuous ones in the Imperial
household. On December 8th the Emperor had left for Moscow, and to him
the Tsaritza telegraphed in their private code, as follows:
"Tsarskoe-Selo, December 8th, 11:30 a.m.
"Gregory says that Zakomelsky is proposing a resolution denouncing him
at the Council of the Empire to-morrow. At all costs this must be
prevented. Boris and Fredericks agree. You must stop it.--Alec."
To this there was sent a reply, the copy being on record:
"Moscow, December 8th, 10 p.m.
"Quite agree with undesirability of allowing Z. to criticise, but cannot
see how I can prevent it, unless by arrest. I am communicating with a
certain quarter. Shall return to-morrow.--Nikki."
Apparently the Emperor, whatever steps he took, was unable to secure the
arrest of the Leader of the Centre, for on the following day, at the
meeting of the Council, the resolution was moved by the Baron Meller
Zakomelsky, who recognised M. Trepoff's honest and sincere desire to
combat the so-called "dark forces," but warned the Prime Minister that
the method chosen by him was wrong. The only effective weapon, he said,
was light, and the Duma and the Council called on the Government to join
them in revealing and denouncing the notorious sinister influence. The
whole of Russia awaited the eradication of the plague which was
corroding the State organism.
This resolution apparently stirred into action the forces gradually
arising to combat the camarilla, for on December 13th, Baroness
Mesentzoff, wife of Baron Paul Mesentzoff, chamberlain and councillor of
State, and a fair-haired "sister-disciple" of Rasputin's, sent him a
letter of warning which is in existence, and of which I here give an
English translation.
It was handed to him late at night at his home in the Gorokhovaya.
Seated with him in that little sanctum into which his neophytes were
admitted by his discreet body-servant, and drinking heavily as usual,
were Sturmer, the ex-Premier, and a man named Kartchevsky, a renegade,
who was actually at that moment secretary to General von Beseler, the
German Governor-General of Warsaw.
The letter read as follows:
"Holy Father,--I have been with Anna (Madame Vyrubova) and Olga (the
Tsar's daughter) an hour ago. I have told them to warn Her Majesty the
Empress of a desperate plot against you. Do beware, I pray you, of
Youssoupoff, and of the Grand Duke Dmitri. There is a conspiracy to
kill you!
"Your pretended friend Pourichkevitch dined with me to-night, and he,
too, intends that you shall be removed. We all pray that no harm shall
befall you. But I send this at once in warning. I shall be at the
seance tomorrow, when I hope to have an opportunity of speaking with you
alone. A young friend of mine, Nadjezda Boldyieff, daughter of the
General at Kiev, is anxious to enter our circle. So I shall bring her
with me. But do, I beg of you, heed this warning, and avoid all contact
with the persons herein named.--Your sister, Feo."
The monk, who was in his cups, as he usually was after midnight--
according to his servant's statement--handed the letter to Sturmer with
an inane laugh. And stroking his beard, said with his extraordinary
egotism:
"Enemies! Why do these silly impetuous women warn me? I am careful
enough to look after myself. I rule Russia--at the orders of the
Emperor William! The Tsar is only Tsar in name. The Emperor is myself,
Gregory the monk!"
"But Pourichkevitch is dangerous," declared the traitorous ex-Prime
Minister. "He is the fiercest member of the Extreme Right, and our
friend Protopopoff has lately received many reports concerning him
through the Secret Police."
"If so, then why is he not imprisoned?" asked Rasputin. "Protopopoff is
far too hesitating. A few compromising documents introduced into his
house, a police search, an arrest, a word to the Emperor--and he would
have an uncomfortable little room beneath the lake in the Fortress of
Schusselburg. No, our friend Protopopoff is far too weak. He dallies
too much for the public favour. What is it worth? Personally, I prefer
their hatred."
"And yet you are the great healer--the idol of the working-class, just
as Gapon was long ago!" laughed the ex-Premier.
"Yes, I am their Grichka," laughed Rasputin in his drunken humour. "It
is true, my dear Boris. There is but one Tsar, and it is myself--eh?"
And he chuckled as he drained his glass of champagne, and laughed at the
warning sent him by the woman who had sat at his knee and who had given
over her whole private fortune to him, just as a dozen other society
women in Petrograd had done. If his "sister-disciples" failed him in
funds, then he simply held their letters and blackmailed them till he
drove them to desperation, and in six known cases to suicide. The fears
of the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna for the safety of her pet monk in
whom she believed so devoutly, seem to have been aroused by the warning
given by the Baroness Mesentzoff, for next day there came to him an
urgent telegram from Gatchina, where the Tsaritza had gone on a visit to
the Dowager Empress. It read:
"You are in grave danger. Mother Superior Paula, of the Novo-Devitsky
Nunnery, has disclosed something to me. Come to Tsarskoe-Selo at once.
Nikki is eager to consult you.--A."
The monk was quick to realise by this telegram his true position in the
Imperial household. Only a few weeks before Anna Vyrubova, the
high-priestess of his disgraceful cult, had warned him of his waning
influence. But he had not cared one jot, because, in his safe, he had
stowed hundreds of letters and telegrams from society women compromising
themselves. By the sale of these he could obtain sufficient money to
establish a fortune for the rest of his life.
Here, however, a new phase had arisen.
He was in active communication with Germany, he had already wrecked
Russia's splendid offensive, and was gradually bringing the Empire into
bad odour with neutrals. For this he had, in secret, received the
heartfelt thanks of his Imperial paymaster the Kaiser. German money was
flowing to him from all quarters, and German agents were swarming in
Petrograd, as well as across the Russian front. Brusiloff was doing his
best, but having gauged the position, had realised that it was becoming
hopeless. German influence was eating the heart out of Russia as a
canker-worm--and that canker-worm was Gregory Rasputin himself.
In consequence of the telegram from the Empress, followed by a letter
sent by Imperial messenger by the Grand Duchess Olga, the monk hastened
to the Palace and had a long interview with Her Majesty.
He left with Anna Vyrubova soon after noon in one of the Imperial cars
which were always at his disposal, in consequence of the seance arranged
at his house in Petrograd, and more especially because the Baroness
Mesentzoff had sent him a photograph of Nadjezda Boldyieff, who was
anxious to join the "disciples."
Notwithstanding the critical situation, the seance was held, and the
handsome Nadjezda was admitted to the "sisterhood."
Truly those were critical days in Russia. The rascal had been warned,
but did not heed. The Allies, fighting for the just cause, were in
ignorance of the fierce resentment now aroused in the hearts of the
Russian people by the denunciation in the Duma by those who were bold
enough to speak their minds and defy the camarilla. The news allowed
out of Russia during the last month of the year was most meagre.
Protopopoff, the Kaiser's silk-hatted creature, controlled it, and only
allowed intelligence of the most optimistic character to filter through
to us. Hence while the British, American, and French Press were
publishing wholly fictitious accounts of Russia's gains, the
"miracle-worker" was daily driving the Imperial House of Romanoff
towards the abyss of oblivion.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE TRUE STORY OF RASPUTIN'S END.
Events were now proceeding apace.
The Grand Duke Nicholas Michailovitch had dared to seek audience of the
Tsar, at which he had handed him a memorandum of protest. In this
letter, which is still upon record, the Grand Duke wrote:
"Where is the root of the evil? Let me explain it in a few words.
"So long as your manner of choosing Ministers was known to narrow
circles, things could muddle along, but when it became a matter of
public knowledge and all classes in Russia talked about it, it was
senseless to attempt to continue to govern Russia in this fashion.
Often did you tell me that you could put faith in no one, and that you
were being deceived.
"If this is so, then it applies particularly to your wife, who loves you
and yet led you into error, being surrounded by evil-minded intimates.
You believe in Alexandra Feodorovna. This is natural. But the words
she utters are the product of skilful machinations, not of truth. If
you are powerless to liberate her from these influences, then at all
events be on your guard against constant and systematic influence of
intriguers who are using your wife as their instrument... If you could
remove the persistent interference of dark forces in all matters, the
regeneration of Russia would instantly be advanced, and you would regain
the confidence of the enormous majority of your subjects, which you have
forfeited."
This was pretty outspoken. But further, during the course of the
conversation, the Grand Duke spoke of Protopopoff and asked Nicholas II
whether he was aware that this politician had been palmed off on him by
the agency of Rasputin, whom Protopopoff had first met at the home of
the charlatan Badmayeff, the man who secretly practised so-called
"Thibetan" medicine and who supplied the "Saint" with his drugs.
The Emperor smiled and declared that he was already acquainted with the
facts.
The Emperor took the memorandum to the Empress and read it aloud to her.
When he came to the passage dealing with the evil influences
surrounding her, she flew into a rage, seized the document, and tore it
up in the Tsar's face!
Meanwhile the camarilla were still plotting further the downfall of
Russia, and endeavouring to implicate Sturmer's successor.
Suddenly, on December 26th, the greatest consternation was caused both
in society circles in Petrograd and at the Palace of Tsarskoe-Selo,
owing to rumours that Rasputin was missing.
He had been absent from the capital on many occasions, travelling upon
his supposed pilgrimages, but there was persistent gossip on the Nevski
that something had happened.
After the _debacle_ three telegrams in English were found in the
Department of Posts and Telegraphs. They had been sent by the Empress
from Tsarskoe-Selo to the Emperor, and read as follows:
"Tsarskoe-Selo, December 26th.
"I am worried by the awful rumours. No details. Remember what I wrote
to you.--Alec."
Four days later Her Majesty telegraphed again to the Tsar:
"Tsarskoe-Selo, December 30th, 4:37 p.m.
"Can you send Voyeipoff to me at once? I want his help and advice. We
still hope for the best. Dmitri and Felix are implicated.--Alec."
Six hours later she again telegraphed frantically:
"Tsarskoe-Selo, December 30th, 10:24 p.m.
"Nothing discovered yet. Felix stopped on his way to Crimea. How I
wish you were here.--Alec."
And again at midnight she sent two further telegrams. The first read:
"Tsarskoe-Selo, December 30th, 11:47 p.m.
"Father (Rasputin) is no more. Punish the enemies of Russia and of our
House. Come back at once. I can bear it no longer.--Alec."
The second was addressed:
"To Father Makarius, Verkhotursky Monastery, Perm.
"December 30th, midnight.
"Great misfortune. Something happened to Father (Rasputin). Pray for
him and for us. Those responsible will be punished. Come at once to
us.--Alexandra."
For days the sensational affair was hushed-up from the public by order
of the Tsar, and with the connivance of Protopopoff. Many fictitious
accounts have appeared in the Press regarding the final hours of the
amazing rascal who, as tool of the Emperor William, brought to an end
the Imperial House of Romanoff.
I am here enabled, however, to explain the truth from an authentic
source, namely, from the statement of a lady--a Russian nursing-sister--
who was an eye-witness and who is in London at the moment when I write.
The lady in question is well known in London, and I have begged her to
allow me to disclose her name, but for certain reasons she has held me
to my promise of secrecy. There are, one must remember, still
influential friends of Rasputin in Russia, and as she is returning
there, her objection is obvious.
It seems that on December 15th (Russian style) the "Saint" had been
invited to the elegant house of Prince Youssoupoff to a merry supper.
The _penchant_ of the monk for a pretty face and a mysterious adventure
being well-known, it had been hinted to him that a certain lady who
desired to remain incognito, wished to meet him.
Now the house of Prince Youssoupoff in Petrograd--who, by the way, had a
house in London before the war and was well-known in Mayfair--runs from
the Moskaya to the Offitzerskaya, where at a back entrance, the wine
from the famous estate in the Crimea is sold, just as wine is sold at
the mediaeval palaces of Florence.
The Prince was supposed to be alone to meet his guest and this
mysterious young and pretty lady who desired to enter the cult of the
"Sister-Disciples." As a matter of fact, however, there were assembled
in a room on the first floor several persons determined to rid Russia of
this erotic traitor who was daily betraying her into the hands of the
Huns.
They were the Prince Youssoupoff, the Grand Duke Dmitri (who was
suspected by the Empress), the Deputy of the Extreme Right,
Pourichkevitch, a man named Stepanoff, a well-known _danseuse_ (the
mysterious lady who acted as decoy, named Mademoiselle C--), and the
lady who has described the scene to me.
Eleven o'clock struck. It was a dramatic scene. All were anxious for
Rasputin's arrival, but he did not come.
The Prince went to the telephone and asked for the monk at his house.
The reply was that the Father had gone out to dine somewhere early in
the evening.
Would he come? Would he walk into the trap so cunningly baited for him?
The moments seemed hours as the little assembly sat waiting and
discussing whether any one could have given him warning, for it was
known that the "miracle-worker" had, through his catspaw Protopopoff,
spies set everywhere.
At twenty minutes past eleven a car was heard at the back-door in the
Offitzerskaya, and his host, rushing down, admitted him mysteriously.
The monk removed his big sable-lined coat, disclosing his black clerical
garb and big bejewelled cross suspended around his neck. Then he
removed his galoshes, for it was snowing hard outside.
"You need not be afraid, Father," said his host. "We are alone, except
for my friend Stepanoff. He is one of us," he laughed merrily.
Then he conducted the "Saint" into the large handsome dining-room, where
a tall, fair-bearded man, Paul Stepanoff, came forward to meet him.
Upon the table were two bottles of wine. Into one cyanide of potassium
had been introduced, and its potency had an hour before been tried upon
a dog, which at the moment was lying dead in the yard outside.
After Stepanoff had been introduced, the Prince said in a confidential
tone:
"The lady I mentioned has not yet arrived. I shall go to the door to
await her so that the servants are not disturbed."
Thus the Father was left with his merry, easy-going fellow-guest, who at
a glance he saw was a _bon viveur_ like himself.
The two men began to talk of spiritualism, in which Stepanoff declared
himself to be much interested, and a few minutes later he poured out
some wine, filling the Father's glass from the poisoned bottle while he
attracted his attention to a picture at the end of the room.
They raised their glasses, and drank. Some dry biscuits were in a
silver box, and after Rasputin had drained his glass, he took a biscuit
and munched it.
But to Stepanoff's amazement the poison took no effect! Was the monk
after all under some divine or mysterious protection? Stepanoff was
expecting him to be seized by paroxysms of agony every moment.
On the contrary, he was still calm and expectant regarding the
mysterious lady whom he was to meet.
Suddenly, however, Rasputin, slightly paler than usual, exclaimed:
"Curious! I do not feel very well!"
And he crossed the room to examine an ancient crucifix, beautifully
jewelled, which was standing upon a side table.
Stepanoff rose and followed him, remarking on the beauty of the sacred
emblem, yet aghast that the "Saint" could take such a dose of poison and
yet remain unharmed.
Prince Youssoupoff with the others, was standing silent in the upstairs
room eagerly awaiting Stepanoff's announcement that the traitor was no
more. Those moments were breathless ones. What, they wondered, was
happening below! They listened, and could hear the voices of the pair
below still in conversation.
"Ah! That spasm has passed!" Rasputin was heard to declare.
Passed! Was he immune from the effects of that most deadly poison?
They looked at each other astounded. The fact was that he had only
sipped the wine, and having had sufficient already to drink he had
contrived to empty his glass into a dark porcelain flower-bowl.
The monk had taken the big crucifix in his hand to examine it the more
closely, when Stepanoff, seeing that Rasputin was still unharmed
suddenly drew a big Browning pistol, and, placing it under the monk's
arm and against his breast, fired.
The others above, hearing the shot, rushed out upon the wide balcony,
while Stepanoff dashed up the stairs to meet them, crying:
"The Saint is dead at last! Russia is freed of the scoundrel!"
The others shouted joy, and re-entering the room, toasted the liberation
and regeneration of Russia. Suddenly, they heard a noise and went out
upon the balcony again, when, to their horror, they saw the door of the
dining-room opened, and Rasputin, haggard and blood-stained, staggering
forth, with an imprecation upon his lips, to the door opening to the
street, in an effort to escape!
The attempt at poisoning him had failed, and he had only been wounded.
The tension was breathless. Was he after all endowed with some
supernatural power?
"You have tried to kill me!" shrieked the monk, his hands stained with
blood. "But I still live--I live!--and God will give me my revenge!"
With his hands clasped over the spot where he had been wounded, he gave
vent to a peal of demoniacal laughter, which held the little knot of
witnesses on the balcony utterly dumbfounded and appalled.
Only one man seemed to have courage to stir.
According to the lady who was present and who gives me the description
which I here reproduce--the only true and authentic account of the
affair--Stepanoff, his revolver still in his hand, again dashed down the
stairs, and preventing the monk from opening the outer door, sprang upon
him and emptied the contents of his weapon, barrel after barrel, into
the monk's head.
At last the spy and traitor was dead!
Ten minutes later a closed car arrived containing Doctor Stanislas L--,
and driven by a soldier in uniform named Ivan F--. In the car the body
of the monk was placed by the doctor, the soldier, and the patriotic
executioner Stepanoff.
Leaving the Prince and those who had assembled to witness the death of
the hated agent of the Kaiser who had so misled the Russian Imperial
family and the Russian people, and who had been directly and indirectly
responsible for the death of thousands of brave men, British and French,
on the various battle-fronts, the men drove with the fellow's body, the
great golden cross still dangling around its neck, to the Petrovsky
Bridge.
It was very dark and snowy. Nobody was about, therefore the doctor, the
soldier, and the man who had that night lopped off the tentacle of the
German octopus in Russia, carried the body to a point between the second
and third arches of the bridge. Here it had been ascertained earlier in
the night that the ice was broken, and a large hole existed.
They raised the body to cast it over when, horror! The dead hand caught
in the soldier's shoulder-strap!
"Is this a curse upon me?" gasped Ivan.
"Curse or not, he goes!" cried Stepanoff, and all three hurled him over
the parapet.
There was a loud splash. Then all was silent again, and the trio,
re-entering the car, drove hurriedly away.
For six days there were rumours everywhere in Petrograd that "something"
had happened. Fredericks, Sturmer, and Protopopoff were frantic. The
Secret Police, at orders of the Emperor, were making every inquiry, for
the Holy Father was missing!
On December 31st, at 3 p.m., the Tsaritza despatched the following
telegram to Nicholas II.
"Order Maksimovitch arrest Dmitri (the Grand Duke) in your name. Dmitri
waited to see me to-day. I refused. The body has not yet been found.--
Alec."
To this His Majesty replied that he was taking every measure, and that
he had ordered the Grand Duke Nicholas into exile to his estates.
Then, on the following day, the distracted Empress, who was
grief-stricken and inconsolable at the tragedy, telegraphed "Thanks for
your wire. Body found in the river."