Nicholas and Alexandra

arm. I moved away at once, saying nothing. I just got up and joined the others.…”

Not many days afterward, Anna Vyrubova arrived, flushed and disheveled, at Olga’s palace in town. She begged the Grand Duchess to receive Rasputin again, pleading, “Oh please, he wants to see you so much.” “I refused very curtly.… To the best of my knowledge Nicky put up with the man solely on account of the help he gave to Alexis and that, as I happen to know very well, was genuine enough.”

Although the moments were wholly innocent, Rasputin’s visits to the palace nurseries touched the Tsar’s young daughters with rumors of scandal. On the pretext of saying prayers with the Tsarevich and his sisters, Rasputin sometimes hung about their upstairs bedrooms after the girls had changed into their long white nightgowns. The girls’ governess, Mlle. Tiutcheva, was horrified to see a peasant staring at her charges and demanded that he be barred. As a result, Alexandra became angy not at Rasputin, but at Tiutcheva, who dared to question the saintliness of the “Man of God.” Nicholas, seeing the impropriety of Rasputin’s presence, intervened in the quarrel and instructed Rasputin to avoid his daughters’ rooms. Later, Tiutcheva was dismissed, and blamed her downfall on Rasputin’s hold over the Empress. Tiutcheva returned to Moscow, where her family had important connections and were especially close to Alexandra’s sister Grand Duchess Elizabeth. Busily spreading her story across Moscow, Tiutcheva at the same time implored the Grand Duchess to speak bluntly to her younger sister the Empress. Ella was more than willing; having herself entered into religious retreat, she regarded Rasputin as a blasphemous and lascivious impostor. At every opportunity she spoke, sometimes gently, sometimes bitterly, to Alexandra about the starets. Her efforts had no effect except to open a breach between the two sisters which, as time went on, became so wide that neither could touch the other.

   By 1911, St. Petersburg was in an uproar over Rasputin. Not all the husbands were complaisant, nor did all the ladies of St. Petersburg enjoy having their buttons undone. The Montenegrin princesses, Grand Duchess Militsa and Grand Duchess Anastasia, closed their doors to their former protege. Anastasia’s soldier-husband, Grand Duke Nicholas, swore “never to see the devil again.” The two Montenegrins even went to Tsarskoe Selo to report to the Empress their “sad discovery” about Gregory, but Alexandra received them coolly.

It was the Church which initiated the first formal investigation of Rasputin’s activities and carried the first official complaints to the Tsar. Bishop Theophan, the saintly Inspector of the Theological Academy, who had been impressed by Rasputin’s faith and had recommended him to the Empress, was the first to entertain doubts. When women who had given in to Rasputin began coming to him with their confessions, Theophan went to the Empress. Once he had been Alexandra’s confessor; now he advised her that something was fearfully wrong about the “Holy Man” he had recommended to her. Alexandra sent for the starets and questioned him. Rasputin affected surprise, innocence and humility. The result was that Theophan, a distinguished theologian, was transferred from the Theological Academy to become Bishop of the Crimea. “I have shut his trap,” gloated Rasputin in private.

Next, the Metropolitan Anthony called on the Tsar to discuss Rasputin. Nicholas replied that the private affairs of the Imperial family were no concern of the Church. “No, Sire,” the Metropolitan replied, “this is not merely a family affair, but the affair of all Russia. The Tsarevich is not only your son, but our future sovereign and belongs to all Russia.” Nicholas nodded and quietly ended the interview. But soon afterward, Anthony fell ill and died.

The single most damaging attack on Rasputin came from a flamboyant young zealot of a monk named Iliodor. Iliodor was even younger than Rasputin, but he had built a reputation as a fiery orator and crowds flocked to hear him whenever he spoke. Simply by telling the multitude that he wanted to build a great monastery (“Let one man bring a plank, let another bring a rusty nail”), he attracted thousands of volunteers who erected a vast spiritual retreat near Tsaritsyn [later Stalingrad, now Volgograd] on the banks of the Volga.

Austere in his behavior, Iliodor was fanatical in his beliefs. He preached strict adherence to the Orthodox faith and the absolute autocracy of the tsar. Yet alongside his extreme monarchism, he advocated a vague peasant communism. The tsar should rule, he said, but beneath the autocrat all other men should be brothers with equal rights and no distinctions of rank or class. As a result, Iliodor was as unpopular with government officials, local governors, aristocrats and the hierarchy of the Church as he was popular with the masses.

In Rasputin, Iliodor saw an ally. When Rasputin was first brought to him by Theophan, Iliodor welcomed the primitive religious fervor manifested by the starets. In 1909, Iliodor discovered Rasputin’s other face. He invited Rasputin to come with him to his spiritual retreat near Tsaritsyn. There, to Iliodor’s surprise, Rasputin responded to the respect and humility of the women they met by grabbing the prettiest and smacking their lips with kisses. From Tsaritsyn, the monk and the starets set out for Pokrovskoe, Rasputin’s home. On the train, Iliodor was even more dismayed when Rasputin, bragging about his past, boasted openly of his sexual exploits and jibed at Iliodor’s innocence. He gave a swaggering account of his relations with the Imperial family. The Tsar, said Rasputin, knelt before him and told him, “Gregory, you are Christ.” He boasted that he had kissed the Empress in her daughters’ rooms.

Once they had reached Pokrovskoe, Rasputin supported his boasts by showing Iliodor a collection of letters he had received from Alexandra and her children. He even gave several of these letters to Iliodor—or so Iliodor said—saying, “Take your choice. Only leave the Tsarevich’s letter. It’s the only one I have.” Three years later, portions of these letters from the Empress to Rasputin began appearing in public. They became the basic incriminating documents for the lurid charge that the Empress was Rasputin’s lover. Of them, the most damning was this:

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