The Rasputin File (64 page)

The File, from Filippov’s testimony: ‘Reshetnikov was a point of contact for every kind of petitioning and special pleading, for which the petitioners also gave him money as if for the needs of the empress’s institutions, although a significant part of it remained in Reshetnikov’s and Vyrubova’s hands … And a certain part … although not a very great one, was given to Rasputin himself.’ The resourceful Reshetnikov had thus devised a distinctive tax on Rasputin’s petitioners for the benefit of the infirmary. And from the apartment on Gorokhovaya Street to Anya’s little house a river of money flowed.

But the money from Rasputin’s clients was not only intended for Anya. And here something quite incredible follows.

The File, from Filippov’s testimony: ‘The most odious thing about the recent time was that all the intermediaries [the ‘secretaries’] who were openly offering to plead through Rasputin for definite advantages were maintaining that a part of the allocated funds would go to Madame Vyrubova and sometimes directly to the empress herself, as if for philanthropic causes.’

The very idea seems bizarre. It makes perfect sense in regard to Vyrubova. But the Empress of all Russia taking money from the peasant? Money that he had received for arranging high-ranking positions and for obtaining audiences with ministers? What rubbish! What nonsense!

But we shall let Alix speak for herself: ‘3 Nov. 1915 … One thing our Friend said, that if people offer great sums (so as to get a
decoration)
, now one must accept, as money is needed & and one helps them doing good by giving in to their weaknesses, & 1000 profit by it — it’s true, but again against all moral feelings. But in time of war all becomes different.’

The war had devoured both the annual allocation of funds from the treasury for the maintenance of the royal family and the family’s own private resources. So in the name of helping the wounded, it had been necessary to take money in secret from Our Friend! ‘In time of war all becomes different.’ Which means that the peasant not only did not receive money from the tsarina, but that he himself may in some measure have become the provider for the tsarina and her Friend! And Alix had perforce to shut her eyes to the constant petitions that the peasant was generously bringing to the palace.

Khvostov and Beletsky’s first test took place at that time. The tsarina demanded that the Duma be placated in order to avoid further resolutions of inquiry about Our Friend, which she regarded as tantamount to attacks against herself. But neither official knew how to do it. However, Rasputin proved a worthy partner. He suggested that they send the tsar to the Duma. As Khvostov testified, Rasputin ‘said that he had already spoken to the tsar many times about the need to make peace with the Duma, about going to it and saying, “I am yours, and you are mine. What is there for us to quarrel about?”’

While the tsar was pondering the peasant’s suggestion, Khvostov and Beletsky began to make preparations for that meeting of tsar and Duma. They both understood that the first thing was to butter up the Speaker of the Duma, Rodzyanko. But how were they to do that in view of the tsarina’s hatred of him? Beletsky, who already grasped a great deal about the peasant, decided to consult him. And no sooner had Beletsky started talking about Rodzyanko’s need for a sign of royal favour than Rasputin
instantly reacted and ‘said he would do everything to see that Rodzyanko got a decoration’.

And soon afterwards Alix wrote to Nicky, ‘3 Nov…. Khvostov finds he [Rodzyanko] ought to receive a decoration now, that wld. flatter him & he wld. sink in the eyes of the left party, for having accepted a reward from you. Our Friend says also that it would be a good thing to do. Certainly it’s most unsympathetic, but, alas, times are such just now, that one is obliged out of wisdom sake to do many a thing one wld. rather not have.’

On 6 December the detested Rodzyanko received the decoration.

Fat Belly’s Dreams

Meanwhile, Khvostov had set about bringing his own plans to fruition. ‘At the time Khvostov had already sown the first seeds of doubt in Tsarskoe Selo about the rightness of Goremykin’s Duma policy,’ Beletsky testified. For ‘Fat Belly’ had had a clear goal from the very beginning: to take the old man Goremykin’s place as prime minister.

And the cultivating of Rasputin now proceeded apace over dinners at the secret apartment. It was done candidly and openly. ‘During …the dinners Khvostov … would try to convince Rasputin that he, Khvostov, would be the best chair for the Council of Ministers,’ Komissarov testified. But Khvostov did not merely want power. He wanted unlimited power, the kind the great Stolypin had enjoyed. ‘Khvostov tried to convince Rasputin that the post of prime minister should be combined with the internal affairs portfolio … for without that portfolio, the prime minister was nothing — a cat without his balls. As was his custom, Rasputin avoided giving a definite answer to any of this … being a shrewd person, he limited himself to monosyllabic replies.’

The peasant understood that the ‘old man’ Goremykin was finished. And he forewarned ‘Mama’.

‘6 Nov. 1915 … Well Lovy, He thinks I better now see the old Gentleman & gently tell it him, as if the Duma hisses him, what can one do…better he goes by yr. Wish than forced by a scandal.’

But whom to appoint? She had absolutely no idea. And once again it was time for Our Friend. No, he had no intention at all of appointing Khvostov. The latter was too tricky and stupid. A completely new person was required. One who would be acceptable to the Duma, yet who would agree to be ‘ours’. The absence of Prince Andronikov, who knew everyone and everything, was telling. Rasputin was evidently obliged to discuss the candidacies for prime minister with his ‘Brain Trust’ — with Simanovich, Rubinstein, and Manasevich-Manuilov.

Meanwhile, the new Duma session was impending. And until a new prime minister could be found, it was necessary to rescue the old one. But to do that, the tsar first had to take a step towards reconciliation with the Duma. And the peasant proposed implementing the great move that he had suggested — that of the tsar appearing before the Duma. A move that appealed to Nicholas, although the proud tsarina regarded it coolly. But she too had learned to compromise. And on 13 November she surprised Nicky by writing, ‘Of course if you could have turned up for a few words, quite unexpected at the Duma (as you had thought to) that might change everything & be a splendid deed & it wld. later be easier for the old man.’

But Rasputin understood that things would not continue that way for long. A new prime minister was needed. He and his ‘Brain Trust’ had to keep thinking.

The Salon And Its Last Days

While the search for a new prime minister was going on, Alix was forced to deal with the church again. Samarin’s replacement, the portly, phlegmatic Baron Volzhin, had disappointed her. He was behaving independently. He had tried to bring about what the previous chief procurator had broken his neck on — the retirement of Varnava, a man hated by the Synod and already the subject of discussion in the Duma. But she would not hand ‘ours’ over: ‘10 Nov….Volzhin will need a good deal of ‘picking up’ from you, he is weak & frightened … so when you see him, make him understand that he serves you first of all & the Church — & that it does not concern society nor Duma.’

It was then that the idea occurred to the ‘Tsarskoe Selo cabinet’ to make the notorious Pitirim metropolitan of Petrograd.

Alix put her usual pressure on Nicky.

‘12 Nov…. Darling, I forgot to speak about Pitirim, the metropolitan of Georgia … he is a worthy man, and a great
Worshipper
, as our Friend says. He foresees Volzhin’s fright…but begs you to be firm, as he is the only suitable man…it would be good you did it as soon as you come, to prevent talks & beggings fr. Ella etc.’ One other idea completed Our Friend’s bouquet of state proposals. ‘Then Zh[e]vakhov he begs you straight to nominate as help to Volzhin…age means nothing & knows the Church affairs to perfection — it’s your will & you are master.’

Prince Zhevakhov was the dark-haired young man shown standing at the back in the photograph of Rasputin’s devotees. Nothing had been simple for him, either. He had been a minor official of the Council of State.
But Rasputin had noticed him at once. Rumour had it that Zhevakhov, too, was a person of non-traditional sexual proclivities, which could ruin a church career. But Rasputin started to promote him, and brought him to the palace. And soon afterwards, the modest official went to Belgorod at the empress’s command to arrange a shrine for the relics of the Prelate Iosaf.

Volzhin refused to accept him as his deputy. A post of second deputy chief procurator was then created for Zhevakhov. After which the first deputy was driven out, leaving Zhevakhov alone.

At the end of 1915 it came to pass that Pitirim was appointed metropolitan of Petrograd and Ladoga. Thereby becoming one of the leading members of the church hierarchy and ‘pre-eminent in the Synod’. He would take up residence in the metropolitan’s chambers at the famous Alexander Nevsky Abbey, the chief monastery of the capital.

The refractory Volzhin was removed at the beginning of 1916. His place as chief procurator was taken over by the silent and submissive Nikolai Raev, the modest director of higher education courses for women.

The coup was over. Alix now had an obedient Synod. And later she would be able to write to the tsar: ‘21 Sept. 1916 … Fancy, the Synod wants to present me with a
Testimonial
& Image (because of my work with the wounded, I think) — you see poor me receiving them all? Since Catherine no Empress has personally received them alone, Gregory is delighted (I less so) — but strange, is it not, I, whom they feared & disapproved of always.’

She was entitled to the award. She and the peasant Grigory Rasputin had created a new Synod with obedient hierarchs.

‘A Grand Duke? Higher!’

The year 1915 was drawing to an end. At the time, rumours of Rasputin’s power over the ‘tsars’ had taken the shape of every conceivable myth. He had long since turned into a cult figure in the eyes of the capital’s residents. It was then that the yearning rich woman Lydia Bazilevskaya turned up by his side. This tall brunette, the divorced twenty-eight-year-old daughter of a lieutenant general, immediately found her way into the agents’ reports: ‘He came home drunk at one in the morning… [with] an unknown officer and lad … And then Bazilevskaya arrived…They remained until 4:00 a.m.’

The singer Belling would afterwards recall:

It was in November 1915 at six in the evening. An acquaintance of mine,
L. P. B-aya [Lydia Platonovna Bazilevskaya] … of whom I knew only that she did ‘charity work’, although mostly for the sake of show … called me up on the phone: ‘Sweetie, come over right away!’

‘Why, what’s the matter?’ I asked, quite surprised by her request.

‘I have a very important person here who is taken with your picture and demands that you come at once.’ L. P. B-aya’s voice was extremely urgent and agitated.

‘Demands?’ I repeated. ‘Who is it, then? Some minister?’ ‘Higher!’ I received in answer. ‘What, a grand duke?’

‘Higher,’ I heard L. P. B-aya moan, obviously exasperated by my slowness. I was seized with indescribable curiosity. Just what sort of person was it? He ‘demanded’, and was higher than everything ‘highly placed’ as it then existed in our understanding…I went and, I must admit, urged the driver on from impatience. When I entered the vestibule, an agitated, flushed L. P. B-aya came out to me and herself quickly began helping me off with my fur coat and even my galoshes.

‘Don’t forget to kiss his hand. He likes that,’ L. P. B-aya informed me in a whisper.

‘What a nasty trick!’ I thought, crestfallen. ‘A priest!’ L. P. B-aya pushed me into the next room, which turned out to be an elegant, bright bedroom with red mirrors, small chairs, and lace pillows. Several ladies and two or three men were sitting in it. I squirmed uncomfortably under the inquisitive stare of a pair of grey, deep-set, small, ugly eyes … Dishevelled, in a lovely lilac silk shirt, high boots, and an untidy beard, he seemed familiar to me, and subconsciously I realized it was Rasputin.

Thus did Alexandra Belling make Rasputin’s acquaintance. And become a member of his salon.

The Salon On The Eve Of The End

While those political squabbles were taking place, the Rasputiniad continued, by then already smacking of madness. Zhukovskaya described the peasant’s salon at the end of 1915 with its now familiar membership:

Sitting at the table by a boiling samovar that never ever seemed to go away was a now pudgy Akilina in her grey dress of a sister of mercy: she worked at the royal hospital. Taking refuge next to her was Munya, who was gazing in meek adoration at Rasputin, who had squeezed me into a corner of the
sofa. The doorbell rang. Munya went to open it … The princess had arrived. Shakhovskaya, a tall, plump brunette with slow, lazy, alluring movements. She too was dressed a sister of mercy and worked in the Tsarskoe Selo hospital. ‘I’m so tired, all I can think about is getting some sleep, but, as you see, I’ve come to you.’

‘Well, let me have a look at you,’ Rasputin said. ‘You know how sweet you are. Oh, you are such a tasty dish,’ he said, fondling her breasts and sticking his fingers inside her collar … And squeezing her knee, he added, squinting, ‘Do you know … where the spirit is? You think it’s here,’ and he indicated his heart, ‘but it’s here,’ and Rasputin rapidly and imperceptibly raised and lowered the hem of her dress…’Oh, it’s hard with you! Look at me, hypocrite,’ he threatened her, ‘or else… I’ll strangle you. Here’s the cross for you.’

‘I’m going to go home now,’ Shakhovskaya said, resting her head on his shoulder and snuggling up to him. ‘I’ll take a bath and sleep … Father, don’t be cross now,’ Shakhovskaya sweetly pleaded, presenting her face for a kiss. ‘After all, you know, Father!’

‘Come, come, my tasty one,’ Rasputin benignly replied, squeezing her breast. ‘She wanted to.’