Nicholas and Alexandra (36 page)

My beloved, unforgettable teacher, redeemer and mentor! How tiresome it is without you! My soul is quiet and I relax only when you, my teacher, are sitting beside me. I kiss your hands and lean my head on your blessed shoulder. Oh how light, how light do I feel then. I only wish one thing: to fall asleep, to fall asleep, forever on your shoulders and in your arms. What happiness to feel your presence near me. Where are you? Where have you gone? Oh, I am so sad and my heart is longing. . . . Will you soon be again close to me? Come quickly, I am waiting for you and I am tormenting myself for you. I am asking for your holy blessing and I am kissing your blessed hands. I love you forever.

Yours,

M. [Mama]

Assuming for a moment that Alexandra wrote this letter to Rasputin, did it, as their enemies charged, prove that they were lovers? No responsible participant in the events of these years and no serious historian who subsequently has chronicled these events has accepted

this charge. Sir Bernard Pares says of this letter, "Alexandra, it appears, had inadvisedly used some expressions which a cynical reader might interpret into an admission of personal attraction." Pares was putting it too carefully. The fact is that Alexandra wrote to all of her intimate friends in this florid, emotional style. Almost all of these sentences could have been addressed to Anna Vyrubova or any one of a number of friends. It is equally possible that the letters were faked. Only Iliodor saw them, and his credentials as an objective source were thoroughly undermined by subsequent events.

Despite Iliodor's surprise and disgust at what he saw and read in 1909, he and Rasputin remained friendly for another two years. He continued to urge Rasputin to change his ways. At the same time, Iliodor stoutly defended Rasputin when others attacked him. Then, in 1911, Rasputin attempted to seduce—and when that failed, to rape—a nun.

Hearing about it, Iliodor was sickened and enraged. Along with Bishop Hermogen of Saratov, he invited Rasputin into his room and confronted him with the story. "Is it true?" thundered Hermogen. Rasputin looked around and then mumbled, "It's true, it's true, it's all true." Hermogen, a powerful man, was beside himself. He hit Rasputin in the head with his fist and then beat him with a heavy wooden cross. "You are smashing our sacred vessels," bellowed the outraged Bishop. Subdued, Rasputin was dragged into a little chapel, where Hermogen and Iliodor made him swear on an icon that he would leave women alone and that he would stay away from the Imperial family. Rasputin swore enthusiastically. The following day, Rasputin appeared before Iliodor, begging, "Save me! Save me!" Iliodor softened and took Rasputin with him to Hermogen. But the Bishop turned his back on the humbled
starets,
rejecting his pleas with the haughty words, "Never and nowhere."

Rasputin recovered quickly from his beating and from his brush with abstinence. Within a few days, he was back at the palace, giving his version of the episode. Soon afterward, by Imperial order, Hermogen was sent to seclusion in a monastery. Iliodor was ordered into seclusion also, but he refused to submit. Instead, he wandered from place to place, bitterly and ever more hysterically denouncing Rasputin. The peasant "Holy Man" to whom he had extended his friendship, whom he had meant to use as a tool in purifying the Church and in steering the Russian people back to their historic values—this same unwashed, lewd, immoral peasant—had shattered his own bright dreams. The great career as an orator and prophet had tumbled into the dust. And the knave who had destroyed him walked freely in and

out of the palace, had the ear of the Empress and could move bishops and prophets around like pieces on a chessboard. It was at this point, when Iliodor was in this mood, that the letters from Alexandra allegedly taken from Rasputin's desk first appeared.

Iliodor surrendered himself and was imprisoned for several months in a monastery to await a trial. From his cell, Iliodor scribbled feverish letters to the Holy Synod: "You have bowed down to the Devil. My whole being is for holy vengeance against you. You have sold the glory of God, forgotten the friendship of Christ. . . . Oh, cheats, serpents, murderers of Christ ... I will tear off your cloaks. . . . Traitors and renegades . . . You are all careerists; you despise the poor; you ride in carriages, proud and arrogant . . . you are not servants of the people, you put present-day prophets to the stake. . . . Godless anti-Christs, I will not be in spiritual communion with you. . . . You are animals fed with the people's blood."

The addressees retaliated by unfrocking Iliodor. Raging, he screamed, "I will not allow myself ever to be pardoned," and renounced Orthodoxy. Uncertain what to do with himself, he considered becoming a shepherd and "borrowed sufficient money to buy a flock of fifty sheep." But this idea seemed tame, and, instead, he decided to start a revolution. "It was my intention to start a revolution on October 6, 1913. I planned the assassination on that day of sixty lieutenant governors and forty bishops throughout Russia. ... I chose a hundred men to execute this plan." But the plan was uncovered by the police and Iliodor went into hiding. As a fugitive, he gave his blessing to the formation of an organization of women and girls, most of them wronged by Rasputin, which had as its sole purpose Father Gregory's castration. One of the women, a pretty twenty-six-year-old former prostitute named Khina Gusseva whom Rasputin had used and then spurned, wished to go further and kill the
starets.
Iliodor pondered the thought, agreed, opened her blouse and hung a knife on a chain around her neck, instructing her, "With this knife, kill Grishka."

Eventually, Iliodor slipped across the frontier into Finland disguised as a woman and began writing a book about himself and Rasputin. When his book was finished, Iliodor first offered it to the Empress for sixty thousand roubles. This piece of blackmail was rejected and the vengeful former monk then took his manuscript to an American publisher. Later, even he admitted that into the book he had put "a bit extra."

*
* *

Although he wielded great influence, Rasputin was not a frequent visitor at the Alexander Palace. He lived in St. Petersburg, and when he came to Tsarskoe Selo, it was usually to the little house of Anna Vyrubova. Avoiding the palace was not Rasputin's idea. Rather, it represented a decision by the Imperial couple to observe a certain circumspection in their interviews with the controversial
starets.
The palace police saw everything. It was impossible even to creep up a back staircase without the event being noted and recorded; the following day, the news was all over St. Petersburg. In the later years, so rarely did Rasputin come that Gilliard never met him inside the palace. Baroness Buxhoeveden, who lived just down the hall from the young Grand Duchesses, never met him at all.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that she saw Rasputin infrequently and then under circumstances ideal for him, Alexandra refused to consider that there might be another side to her Man of God. "Saints are always calumniated," she told Dr. Botkin. "He is hated because we love him." The family despised the police who surrounded them day and night; they took it for granted that the police reports of Rasputin's activities were fabrications. The Empress flatly refused to accept any hint of Rasputin's debauchery. "They accuse Rasputin of kissing women, etc.," she later wrote to the Tsar. "Read the apostles; they kissed everybody as a form of greeting." Alexandra's opinion was confirmed by the faithful Anna Vyrubova. "I went often to Rasputin's lodging," said Anna, "bringing messages from the Empress, usually referring to the health of Alexis." But Anna saw nothing of which she did not devotedly approve. "Rasputin had no harem," she insisted. "In fact, I cannot remotely imagine a woman of education and refinement being attracted to him in a personal way. I never knew of one being so attracted."

Neither by temperament nor by experience was Anna Vyrubova equipped to judge the matter of physical attraction. Nevertheless, her innocent reports of Rasputin's behavior were not the result of blindness or stupidity. When Anna was present—and her visits were always announced in advance—Rasputin's behavior was rigidly correct. The ladies of his circle, knowing Anna's importance to their hero, followed suit.

After the Revolution, Basil Shulgin, an intensely monarchist member of the Duma and one of the two men who, trying to preserve the monarchy, obtained the abdication of Nicholas II, analyzed Rasputin's role: "Rasputin was a Janus. . . . To the Imperial family he had turned his face as a humble
starets
and, looking at it, the Empress cannot but be convinced that the spirit of God rests upon this man.

And to the country he has turned the beastly, drunken unclean face of a bald satyr from Tobolsk. Here we have the key to it all. The country is indignant that such a man should be received under the Tsar's roof. And under the roof there is bewilderment and a sense of bitter hurt. Why should they all be enraged? That a saintly man came to pray over the unhappy Heir, a desperately sick child whose least imprudent movement may end in death? So the Tsar and the Empress are hurt and indignant. Why should there be such a storm? The man has done nothing but good. Thus a messenger of death has placed himself between the throne and the nation. . . . And because of the man's fateful duality, understood by neither [Tsar nor people], neither side can understand the other. So the Tsar and his people, however apart, are leading each other to the edge of the abyss."

Pierre Gilliard was more succinct. "The fatal influence of that man [Rasputin] was the principal cause of death of those who thought to find in him their salvation."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"We Want a Great Russia"

If any man outside of the Imperial Family could have saved Imperial Russia, it was the burly, bearded country squire who served as prime minister from 1906 to 1911, Peter Arkadyevich Stolypin. A man of the country with roots in the rural nobility, Stolypin had little in common with either the great figures of the princely aristocracy or the dry, professional civil servants who scrambled diligently up the ladders of promotion to the seats of power in the St. Petersburg bureaucracy. Stolypin brought to the Imperial government a clean, strong breath of youth and fresh country air. Direct, outspoken, brimming with impassioned patriotism and overwhelming in his physical energy, Stolypin grappled with the fundamental causes of Russia's troubles. A passionate monarchist, he hated the revolutionaries and ruthlessly crushed the last outbursts of the 1905 Revolution. But Stolypin was also a realist who sensed that the monarchy would survive only if the government and the structure of society itself could adapt to the times. Accordingly, he reconstructed the system of peasant land ownership and began the transformation of an absolute autocracy into a form of government more responsive to the popular will.

No Russian statesman of the day was more admired. In the Duma, Stolypin's big, bearlike figure attracted every eye. Dressed in a frock coat with a watch chain across his chest, he spoke with such eloquence and such evident sincerity that even his adversaries respected him. "We are not frightened," he boomed at his enemies on the Left in the Second Duma. "You want great upheavals, but we want a great Russia." His ministerial colleagues were unanimous in their praise. "His capacity for work and his moral power of endurance were prodigious," wrote Alexander Izvolsky, the Foreign Minister. Vladimir Kokovtsov, the Finance Minister, declared that Stolypin's "nobility, courage and devotion to the State were indisputable." Sir George

Buchanan, the British Ambassador, called him "an ideal man to transact business with ... his promises were always kept." Most important of all, Stolypin pleased the Tsar. In October 1906, after Stolypin had been in office for only three months, Nicholas wrote to his mother, "I cannot tell you how much I have come to like and respect this man."

Peter Stolypin was born in 1863 while his mother rested at the Rhineland spa of Baden-Baden. He was educated in St. Petersburg, where his father had a position at court and his mother was in society. Stolypin himself preferred the country, and most of his career was spent away from the capital. In 1905, at the height of the first revolution, he was governor of Saratov province, charged with suppressing local peasant uprisings that were among the most violent in Russia. Stolypin accomplished his task with a minimum loss of life. Often, rather than ordering government troops to bombard an insurgent village, Stolypin himself would walk into the village alone to talk to the rebel leader and persuade him to have his men lay down their arms.

Because of his success in Saratov province, Stolypin was brought to St. Petersburg in 1906 to become Minister of Interior. He arrived as Witte was departing and took office under Witte's successor, an elderly bureaucratic relic named Ivan Logginovich Goremykin. Goremykin conducted his office on the simple, undeviating principle that ministers were servants of the tsar, appointed to execute, not initiate, policy. Sir Arthur Nicolson, who preceded Buchanan as British Ambassador, called on Goremykin at this time, expecting to find a harried, overworked statesman. Instead, he found himself confronting "an elderly man with a sleepy face and Piccadilly whiskers" reclining on a sofa surrounded by French novels. Goremykin foundered after only three months in office, and before departing, he recommended to the Tsar that Stolypin be appointed in his place.

On the evening of July 7, 1906, Stolypin was summoned to Nicholas's study at Tsarskoe Selo and asked to become Prime Minister. Kokovtsov wrote later: "Stolypin told us that he had attempted to point out his lack of experience and his unfamiliarity with the crosscurrents of St. Petersburg society, but the Tsar had not let him finish: 'No, Peter Arkadyevich, here is the icon before which I often pray. Let us make the sign of the Cross over ourselves and let us ask the Lord to help us both in this difficult, perhaps historic, moment.' Then the Tsar made the sign of the cross over Stolypin, embraced him and kissed him, and asked him on what day it would be best to dissolve the Duma."