I must now make one remark which is absolutely necessary in order to
enable the foreign readers to understand how the numerous legends
which were connected with Rasputin and the influence of the latter on
the course of public affairs could come to be accepted by the nation
at large. One can seek its principal reason in the tendency which the
Russian government has cultivated since immemorial times to forbid the
open discussion of certain things and facts. At the time about which
I am writing present military censorship did not exist, and there was
no war which could have justified the control by the government of
the publication by the daily press of the current events of the day.
Yet the censors did not allow any mention of Rasputin to be made in
any organ of publicity. Thanks to this senseless interdict, it helped
the invention of the most unbelievable tales concerning him and the
attitude which he had adopted in regard to state affairs, with which
he had begun to occupy himself, much to the dismay of those who had by
that time learned to appreciate the fact that the “Prophet” was but
the plaything of men far cleverer than himself and 50,000 times more
dangerous.
St. Petersburg has always been famed for its gossiping propensities,
and in no place in the whole world do the most incomprehensible rumours
start and flourish with the rapidity that they do in the Russian
capital. What the newspapers are forbidden to mention is told by one
person to another, whispered from one ear to another and discussed
everywhere, in clubs, drawing rooms, restaurants, in the houses of
the proudest aristocrats as well as in the dwellings of the humblest
citizens. Nowhere does, or rather, did, because I believe this has
become impossible nowadays, the telephone contribute more to relate
all kind of gossip concerning both private people and public matters.
Of course, as there existed no possibility of controlling all that
was being related under the seal of secrecy all over St. Petersburg,
the most improbable rumours were put in circulation and were carried
about not only in the town itself, but in the provinces, where the
travellers returning from St. Petersburg were but too glad to repeat
with considerable additions all that they had heard in the capital.
The very secrecy which was enjoined by the authorities in regard to
Rasputin added to the latter’s importance and transformed him into
a kind of legendary personage, either too holy or too bad to be
mentioned. Soon all kinds of things in which he had had absolutely
no part began to be attributed to him, and many persons, earnestly
believing him to be all-powerful, took to asking his help not only in
the matter of their administrative careers, but also in questions where
their private life and private interests were involved. It happened
every day that a man who had a lawsuit of a doubtful character sought
out Rasputin, hoping that he might be able to put in a word capable
of influencing the judges before whom the case was to be tried. As
it was absolutely impossible for any one to approach him without
passing through an intermediary of some kind, it was generally this
intermediary who began the regular plundering of the pockets of all the
unfortunate petitioners who had hoped to retrieve their fortunes by an
appeal to the “Prophet’s” protection. This plundering went on as long
as the victim had a penny to spare and a hope to live upon.
On the other hand, the liberal parties in the country began to be
seriously alarmed at the importance which this uncouth peasant was
assuming, and they it was who helped by the anxiety which they openly
manifested to set the general public thinking about him more than it
ought to have done. In the Duma the name of Rasputin was mentioned
with something akin to horror, and allusions without number were made
concerning the “Dark Powers,” as they were called, who were grasping
in their hands the conduct of public affairs. The “Prophet” began to
be mentioned as the scourge of Russia long before he had become one.
His followers, on the contrary, made no secret of his ever-growing
importance, and invented on their side any number of tales absolutely
devoid of truth and tending to prove that nothing whatever was done
in regard to the management of state affairs without his having been
previously consulted. Who consulted him no one knows, and no one could
tell. Certainly it was not the Emperor, who had, when the “Prophet”
once or twice had attempted to touch upon this point in his presence,
rebuked him most sharply; certainly it was not the Empress, who at that
time had never yet cared for politics, whether foreign or domestic. It
was also not the ministers, and most certainly it was not the leaders
of any party in the Duma, because all parties there were agreed as to
one thing, and that was a thorough detestation of Rasputin and of the
whole crew which surrounded him and without which he could not exist.
Who consulted him, then? No one knew, and very probably no one cared to
know. But the fact that he was consulted was an established one, most
probably due to the efforts of those persons in whose interests it lay
to represent him as the deus ex machina without whom nothing could be
done in general, and upon whom everything more or less depended.
It was even related in St. Petersburg that one day, during an audience
which he had had with the Czar, Mr. Rodzianko, the President of the
Duma, had attempted a remonstrance on the subject of Rasputin for
which he had been severely reproved by the Sovereign. Personally,
I do not believe for one single instant that such an incident ever
took place. For one thing, no one, not even Mr. Rodzianko, would have
dared to talk to the Emperor about such an unsavoury subject as that
of the “Prophet,” even if he had been endowed with a moral courage
far superior to that of the President of the Duma. Then, again, the
well-informed were, at the time I am referring to, far too cognisant
of what was going on in the way of court intrigues not to understand
that all protestations against the constant presence of Rasputin
in the vicinity of the Imperial family would have led to nothing,
for the simple reason that those upon whom it depended did not and
could not even recognise the danger that it presented, because they
simply looked upon him as upon a holy man. He soothed the anxieties
of the Empress in regard to her small son, promising her that the day
would come when, thanks to his prayers, the child would outgrow his
delicacy. He amused the Emperor by talking to him in a rough but bright
language, describing bluntly all the incidents that had reached his
knowledge generally through the channel of those interested in having
them conveyed to the Sovereign in the way that best served their own
interests. But Nicholas II. never took him seriously into account, and
therefore could hardly have been brought to think that others were
doing so, and doing it with a vengeance into the bargain.
Rasputin, however, was of a different opinion, and in his desire that
others should share it he liked to boast in public of the things which
he had not done and of the words which he had not spoken. He was upon
excellent terms with some of the palace servants, in whom he had found
comrades and with whom he felt more at his ease than with any one else.
He got them to relate to him all that was going on in the family of
the Czar. He very cleverly made use of this knowledge later on. It is
well known in Russia that the Emperor himself was watched by the secret
police, not only in view of his personal safety, but also because it
was to the interest of the police to be thoroughly acquainted with all
that he did and with the remarks it pleased him to make. And the secret
police were working hand in hand with Rasputin. Their provocative
agents, of which there existed considerable numbers, were everywhere
talking about the “Prophet’s” influence and ever-growing importance,
as well as relating in all the restaurants and public places in the
capital wonderful and improbable tales concerning him and his doings.
From these they were spread among the public and penetrated to people
who otherwise would never have had the possibility of hearing anything
about them. Among those who showed themselves the most active and the
most eager to talk about Rasputin and about the influence which he
was acquiring were persons well known for their German sympathies and
others suspected of being German agents in disguise.
At that period the great aim of the German Foreign Office was to bring
about the collapse of the Franco-Russian alliance, and it set itself
most cleverly to try to bring it about. Among the persons whom it
employed for the purpose was Rasputin, perhaps unknown to himself, but
led by men like Count Witte, who had always been pro-German in sympathy
and who had almost engaged himself to bring about a rapprochement
between the St. Petersburg and the Berlin Court. Working with Witte was
Mr. Manusevitsch Maniuloff, one of the most abominable secret agents
the world has ever known, who in his unscrupulousness would have done
anything he was asked, provided he were paid high enough. For years
he had been in receipt of German subsidies. By dint of blackmailing
he had contrived to maintain himself in the capacity of one of the
editors of the _Novoie Vremia_, where he wrote all that was asked of
him for a consideration, the extent and nature of which depended
upon circumstances. He was also on the staff of the Russian political
Intelligence Department, to which he rendered such services as he
considered to be advantageous to himself without the least thought of
the use these might be to the State which employed him.
Mr. Maniuloff was a spendthrift who never could deny himself any of
the good things of life. These are always considered to be expensive
ones, and consequently he had expensive tastes. His capacity of police
agent had allowed him to blackmail to advantage people against whom
he had discovered, or thought he had discovered, something in the way
of dangerous political opinions. One of his favourite occupations
consisted in going about among these people and hinting to them that
unless they showed themselves willing to minister to his numerous wants
they might find themselves one day in a very tight corner. Generally
these tactics proved successful, until he was caught red-handed in
Paris, where he had been sent on a special mission, tampering with
the funds of which he had control. This accident caused him to be
dismissed. But the man knew far too much and had been far too advanced
in the confidence of his superiors for them to be able to do without
his services, so he was allowed to return to Russia and enroll himself
in journalism, thus to make himself useful again. He had a wonderful
intelligence and was an excellent worker and talked fluently in most of
the European languages. He therefore made his way up the ladder once
more, until at last he became the private secretary to Mr. Sturmer when
the latter was Prime Minister, an advancement that proved fatal to
him because it brought him to prison. But of this I shall speak later
on when touching upon the events which culminated in the murder of
Rasputin.
Such were the men who virtually controlled every action of the
“Prophet,” and it is no wonder if guided by them he sometimes contrived
to influence never the Czar himself, but the latter’s Ministers and
officials who had been told, they did not even know by whom, but
probably by the loud voice of the public, that to do anything to please
Rasputin was to secure for oneself the good graces of the highest
people in the land. As time went on the “Prophet” showed himself less
and less in public, remaining among a small circle of personal friends
whose interest it was to represent him as a kind of Indian idol,
unapproachable except to his worshippers.
And in the meanwhile the ladies who had been the first artisans of
Rasputin’s favour were still holding religious meetings under his
guidance and still seeking inspiration from his teachings. They
believed him to be a real saint, refused to admit that he could do
anything wrong and refused to accept as true the rumours which went
about and which, unfortunately for the “Prophet’s” reputation, were but
too exact, that he was fond of every kind of riotous living, that he
spent his nights in drunken revels and that he gave his best attention
to brandy mixed with champagne. His admirers persisted in seeing in him
the prophet of the Almighty and believed that they could never be saved
unless they conformed to all the directions which it might please him
to give them.
The Rasputin craze became more violent than ever during the few months
which immediately preceded the war, and it very nearly verged upon
complete fanaticism for his personality. Everything that he did was
considered to be holy. His insolence and arrogance, displayed with
increasing violence every day and hour, were almost incredible. This
illiterate peasant dared to send dirty little scraps of paper on which
he had scribbled a coarse message to ministers and public men ordering
them to do this or that according to his pleasure, and presuming to
give them advice, which was never his own, in matters of the utmost
public importance. At first people had laughed at him, but very soon
they had discovered that he could revenge himself on them quickly
and effectively, and this had led to the general determination not
to interfere with him any more, but to leave him severely alone, no
matter what extravagance he might commit or say. And when it came to
the extortion of large sums of money, those who were challenged to pay
them generally did so with alacrity, as happened in the case of several
banks to which Mr. Maniuloff applied for funds, with the help of these
illiterate scraps of paper upon which Rasputin had scribbled his desire
that the money should be put at the disposal of his “protégé.”
What I have been writing is fact, which has been proved publicly, and
never contradicted by so much as one single word of protestation. It
accounts for the hatred with which the “Prophet” came to be viewed.
As time went on it was felt that something ought to be attempted
against the imposter who had contrived to break through barriers one
could have believed to be absolutely impregnable. But no one knew how
this was to be done, and at the time I am referring to the idea of a
political assassination of Rasputin had not entered into the people’s
heads. It was a woman who was to bring it before the public in the
following circumstances:
During the spring of the year 1914, Rasputin, to the general surprise
of everybody, declared to his friends that he intended to leave the
capital and to return for a few months to his native village of
Pokrovskoie in Siberia to rest from his labours. Strenuous efforts were
made to detain him in Petrograd, but he remained inflexible and rudely
thrust aside those who would fain have kept him back. He declared that
he was tired and weary of the existence which he had been leading the
last year, and that the various annoyances and difficulties that had
been put in his way by his numerous enemies had quite sickened him.
Such, at least, was the explanation which he chose to give and to
which he stuck. Others, it is true, declared that the real reason for
his departure was that he had been given to understand that he would
do better to absent himself from St. Petersburg during the time when
the visit of the President of the French Republic was expected, as his
presence there might prove embarrassing from more than one point of
view. The hint had enraged him, and he had determined to go away for
a much longer time than he had been told to do. He had even declared
to a few of his closest friends that he was not going to return to the
capital any more, but that he would remain in Siberia, where, as he
graphically put it, “there was a great deal more money to be made than
anywhere else in the world.”
Whether the above is strictly true or not, I am not in a position to
say, but it does not sound improbable. The fact remains that Rasputin
left St. Petersburg for Pokrovskoie, where he arrived in the first days
of June, 1914, accompanied by the “Sisters,” who were his constant
companions. He was received with such honours that he might have been
the Sovereign himself instead of the simple peasant he was. A crowd
composed of several thousand men and women met him at the gates of
the village and threw themselves at his feet imploring his blessing
and calling upon him to pray with them, and to show them the real way
to God which he was supposed to be the only one in Russia capable of
indicating. For a few days this kind of thing continued, and Rasputin’s
house was literally besieged by crowds of people who had gathered at
Pokrovskoie from all parts of Siberia eager to pay homage to their
national hero, for such he was considered to be. Rasputin smiled and
chuckled and rubbed his hands, as was his wont in those moments when
he allowed his satisfaction at anything to overpower him. If in St.
Petersburg he had been considered as a prophet, here in this remote
corner of Siberia he was fast becoming a kind of small god at whose
shrine a whole nation was worshipping. This was just the sort of thing
to please him and to make him forget any small unpleasantnesses he
might have experienced before his departure from the capital.
One morning, it was the 13th of July, 1914, Rasputin was leaving his
house on his way to church, whither it was his custom to repair every
day. On the threshold of his dwelling a woman was awaiting him. She had
her face muffled in a shawl in spite of the warm weather. When she saw
him she threw herself on her knees before him, as persons of her kind
invariably did when they met him. The “Prophet” stopped and asked her
what it was she wanted from him. Her only reply was to plunge into his
stomach a large kitchen knife, which she had held the whole time hidden
under her shawl.
Rasputin uttered one cry and sank upon the ground. The crowd which was
always following him rushed toward him and lifted him up, while two
local policemen who had been set by the authorities to protect and
guard him threw themselves upon the woman and seized her violently by
both arms. She remained perfectly quiet, declaring that they need not
hold her as she had not the slightest intention of running away. She
knew very well what she had done, and she had meant to do it for a long
time. When asked what had been her motives, she declared that she would
speak before the magistrates, and only asked to be protected in the
meanwhile against the fury of the mob that was threatening to tear her
to pieces in its rage. She did not seem to be in the least disturbed
by what she had done and throughout she showed the most extraordinary
coolness and self-possession.
Very soon it was ascertained that she was a native of the government
of Saratoff, and that her name was Gousieva. When Rasputin had been
preaching in Saratoff she was among the women who had been taken in by
his speeches, and though married she had left her husband and family
to follow the “Prophet.” He very soon proceeded to “cleanse her from
her sins,” according to his favourite expression. We know, of course,
what this meant, and Gousieva, who at that time was young and pretty,
only shared the fate of so many other women, deluded by the mealy
mouthed utterances of the “new Saviour,” that it was only by means of
a complete union with himself that they could be saved and their sins
forgiven them. The unfortunate Gousieva had been only one of many.
When she had found it out an intense rage had taken hold of her, which
had been further enhanced and strengthened by the monk Illiodore, to
whom she had related her misfortune. He had already at the time she
sought him out become the deadly enemy of his former friend Rasputin.
The miserable woman had lost everything--home, children, husband,
relatives--on account of her mad infatuation for the deceiver who had
made her forget her duties by the fascination which he had exercised
over her weak mind. She swore that she would revenge herself and kill
the “Prophet,” so that at least other women could be saved from the
awful fate which had befallen her.
After Rasputin had dismissed her she had been compelled to lead a
dreadful kind of existence in order to obtain a piece of bread. At
last she had become attacked by an awful disease, which had already
eaten away a part of her nose and completely disfigured her face.
This, too, she attributed to the “Prophet.” In her despair she decided
that as she had nothing to lose the best and only thing left for her
to do was to try and rid the world from the awful impostor who had
caused so much misery, brought about such abominable misfortunes and
occasioned so much distress to such a number of innocent women. She
had followed Rasputin for a long time in St. Petersburg, but had never
been able to approach him near enough to execute her design. But when
it had come to her knowledge that he was returning to Pokrovskoie she
had taken it as an indication that the Almighty would be with her in
the deed which she was contemplating, and she, too, started for the
distant Siberian village. There she had spent three days waiting for a
favourable opportunity until the morning when she had at last succeeded
in getting close enough to him to plant in his body the knife which she
had carried about with her for more than two years.
This whole story was related by Gousieva with the utmost composure,
and without any hesitation at all. She considered Rasputin as the
incarnation of the devil, and she had thought it a good deed to put
him out of the way of committing any more evil. For the rest, she did
not care what was to become of her. As it was she knew that she had
not long to live, and with the illness with which she was afflicted
existence in itself was not so sweet that she should sacrifice her
revenge in order to retain it. She had had no accomplices, and she had
consulted no one. In spite of the efforts which were made to induce her
to say that she had acted under the directions and the inspiration of
Illiodore, she denied it absolutely, adding that had she spoken to him
about her intention she knew that he would have dissuaded her from it
and that he might even have warned the police so as to frustrate her
design.
In the meanwhile, Rasputin had been carried back to his room and
telegrams dispatched everywhere for a doctor. The wound, though deep,
was not a serious one and it had not attacked any vital organs. The man
was in no danger, but his disciples chose to say that it was a miracle
of Providence that he had not succumbed at once under the blow which
had been dealt at him. The “Prophet,” when he had felt himself stabbed,
had cried out that some one was to “arrest that b----h who had hit
him.” Then he caused several telegrams to be sent to his friends in
St. Petersburg in which he described the attempt against his life as
the work of the devil, who had inspired the woman Gousieva and induced
her to commit her abominable action. He added that at the moment when
her weapon had touched him he had seen an angel descend from Heaven,
stop her arm, and then put a hand on his wound so as to stop it from
bleeding, and that it was only due to this direct intervention of the
Almighty that he had escaped with his life. Of course, the story was
believed by the credulous people who accepted every one of his words as
a manifestation of the will of the Lord, and he became more than ever a
saint, to whom the people began to raise altars, and to regard in the
light of another Saviour come to redeem mankind from the terrors of sin.
In St. Petersburg the news of the attempted assassination of Rasputin
had produced an immense impression, and had been commented upon in
different ways. Some people saw in it an intervention of the secret
police, who had been told to get rid in some way or other of a man who
was fast becoming a public nuisance and embarrassment for everybody,
even for those who had benefited through their acquaintance with him.
Others declared that it was a just punishment for his evil deeds,
and that the woman Gousieva had not been badly inspired when she had
tried to revenge herself on him for the terrible wrong which he had
done to her. Every one was anxious to learn how the news would be
received in certain quarters and among the bevy of feminine worshippers
whose existence was wrapped up in that of Rasputin. Public curiosity,
however, was not destined to be satisfied, because nothing was heard
concerning the feelings of these adepts of his on this remarkable
occasion.
The only thing which one learned in regard to the whole affair was that
two ladies who figured among his most prominent supporters had started
at once for Pokrovskoie, and that a celebrated surgeon from Kazan had
also been requested to go to see him regardless of what his journey
might cost.
The care that was taken of Rasputin soon restored him to his usual
health, and he became at once a martyr. When the first moment
of fright--and, being a great coward, he had been thoroughly
frightened--had passed away, he felt rather satisfied at the fuss which
was made about him, and more grateful than anything else to the woman
Gousieva for having given him such a splendid opportunity to recover
some of his popularity, which he had feared might decrease during his
absence from St. Petersburg. The fact that his attempted assassination
had brought his name and his person once more prominently before the
public pleased him, and his natural cunning made him at once grasp
the whole importance of the event and the capital that might be made
out of it. He was the first to plead for indulgence for his would-be
murderess, perhaps out of fear of the scandal which a trial might
produce, a trial during which a lawyer might be found daring enough and
enterprising enough to speak openly of the reasons which had driven the
accused woman to this act of madness, and to disclose certain episodes
in the past existence of the “Prophet” which the latter would not have
cared at all to become the property of the public. On the other hand,
the authorities, too, felt that a public trial would only cause a most
painful sensation, by the mention of names which it was of the highest
importance to keep outside the question. The culprit herself insisted
upon being brought before a jury, declaring that she had sought
publicity and that she would not rest until she had it; that, moreover,
she did not intend to be cheated out of her revenge or prevented from
exposing the man in whom she saw the most flagrant and daring impostor,
a creature for whom nothing in the world was sacred and who would not
hesitate at anything in order to come to his ends. She insisted on the
fact that she would have rendered a public service to the country had
she killed him, and that, whatever happened to her personally, the
vengeance of God would one day overtake “Gricha” and his wickedness,
and that others would be found who would follow the example which she
had given to them and not fail as she had failed.
Gousieva told all this to the examining magistrate to whom had
been intrusted the preliminary inquest, and she persisted in her
allegations, notwithstanding all the efforts and even the threats which
were made to her to induce her to retract her first deposition. The
authorities found themselves in a dilemma from which they did not know
how to extricate themselves, when Rasputin himself came to their rescue.
“The woman is mad,” he said. “All that she relates is but the ravings
of a madwoman. Lock her up in an asylum, and let us hear nothing more
about her!”
This piece of advice was considered to be the best possible under
the circumstances, and Gousieva was placed first in a hospital for
observation and then a few months later adjudged insane by order.
She was removed to a madhouse, no one knows exactly where, and there
she probably is locked up to this day unless death in some shape or
form has overtaken her and removed her forever out of a world which
certainly had never proved a kind one for her.
In the meanwhile her victim was mending rapidly, and three weeks
after his accident he was removed first to Tobolsk and then to St.
Petersburg. His disciples were preparing a great reception for him, and
he himself was openly talking of all that he would do on his return
and of the revenge which he was going to take on the people to whose
influence he attributed the “mad” act of the woman who had attacked
him. He made the greatest efforts to connect Illiodore with the attempt
of Gousieva, and he was quite furious to see them fail, declaring that
when he was once more in the capital he would make it his business
to find out whether it was not possible to discover some points of
association between the unfrocked monk and the woman whose knife had
been raised against him. He further made no secret of his intention
to obtain the proofs which he needed, thanks to the intelligence and
with the help of his friend Mr. Manassevitsch-Maniuloff. Whether he
would have succeeded or not, it is difficult to say, because when
Rasputin returned to St. Petersburg and was enabled to visit his
friends at Tsarskoie Selo once more, there were other preoccupations
which were troubling the public more than anything connected with his
individuality. War had broken out with Germany.