Nicholas and Alexandra

saying instead, “This time it is for you to bless me, not I you.”

According to Simanovich, Rasputin’s secretary and confidant, it was during these last weeks of December 1916 that Rasputin produced the mystically prophetic letter which has become part of the legend of this extraordinary man. Headed “The Spirit of Gregory Efimovich Rasputin-Novykh of the village of Pokrovskoe,” its message of warning is directed mainly at Nicholas:

I write and leave behind me this letter at St. Petersburg. I feel that I shall leave life before January 1. I wish to make known to the Russian people, to Papa, to the Russian Mother and to the Children, to the land of Russia, what they must understand. If I am killed by common assassins, and especially by my brothers the Russian peasants, you, Tsar of Russia, have nothing to fear, remain on your throne and govern, and you, Russian Tsar, will have nothing to fear for your children, they will reign for hundreds of years in Russia. But if I am murdered by boyars, nobles, and if they shed my blood, their hands will remain soiled with my blood, for twenty-five years they will not wash their hands from my blood. They will leave Russia. Brothers will kill brothers, and they will kill each other and hate each other, and for twenty-five years there will be no nobles in the country. Tsar of the land of Russia, if you hear the sound of the bell which will tell you that Gregory has been killed, you must know this: if it was your relations who have wrought my death then no one of your family, that is to say, none of your children or relations will remain alive for more than two years. They will be killed by the Russian people.… I shall be killed. I am no longer among the living. Pray, pray, be strong, think of your blessed family.

Gregory

Because the plot hinged on Yussoupov being able to bring Rasputin to the cellar of the Moika Palace, the young Prince intensified his approaches to Rasputin. “My intimacy with Rasputin—so indispensable to our plan— increased each day,” he wrote. When near the end of the month Yussoupov invited him “to spend an evening with me soon,” Rasputin readily accepted.

But there was more to Rasputin’s acceptance than friendship for a charming dilettante and a taste for midnight tea. Yussoupov deliberately encouraged Rasputin’s belief that Princess Irina, widely known for her beauty but a stranger to Rasputin, would be present. “He [Rasputin] had long wished to meet my wife,” wrote Yussoupov. “Believing her to be in St. Petersburg, and knowing that my parents were in the Crimea, he accepted my invitation. The truth was that Irina was also in the Crimea, but I thought Rasputin would be more likely to accept my invitation if he thought he had a chance of meeting her.”

The bait was attractive and Rasputin swallowed it. Both Simanovich and Anna Vyrubova, hearing of the forthcoming supper, tried to dissuade Rasputin from going. Anna Vyrubova visited him in his flat that afternoon, bringing him an icon as a gift from the Empress. “I heard Rasputin say that he expected to pay a late evening visit to the Yussoupov palace to meet Princess Irina, wife of Prince Felix Yussoupov,” wrote Anna. “I knew that Felix often visited Rasputin, but it struck me as odd that he should go to their house at such an unseemly hour.… I mentioned this proposed midnight visit that night in the Empress’s boudoir, and the Empress said in some surprise, ‘But there must be some mistake, Irina is in the Crimea.’ … Once again she repeated thoughtfully, ‘There must be some mistake.’ ”

By evening, the cellar room had been prepared. Yussoupov described the scene: “A low vaulted ceiling … walls of gray stone, the flooring of granite … carved wooden chairs of oak … small tables covered with ancient embroideries … a cabinet of inlaid ebony which was a mass of little mirrors, tiny bronze columns and secret drawers. On it stood a crucifix of rock crystal and silver, a beautiful specimen of sixteenth century Italian workmanship.… A large Persian carpet covered the floor and, in a corner, in front of the ebony cabinet, lay a white bear skin rug.… In the middle of the room stood the table at which Rasputin was to drink his last cup of tea.

“On the table the samovar smoked, surrounded by plates filled with the cakes and dainties that Rasputin liked so much. An array of bottles and glasses sat on a sideboard.… On the granite hearth a log fire crackled and scattered sparks on the hearthstones.… I took from the ebony cabinet a box containing the poison and laid it on the table. Doctor Lazovert put on rubber gloves and ground the cyanide of potassium crystals to powder. Then, lifting the top of each cake, he sprinkled the inside with a dose of poison which, according to him, was sufficient to kill several men instantly,” When he finished, Lazovert convulsively tossed the contaminated gloves into the fire. It was a mistake; within a few moments the fireplace was smoking heavily and the air became temporarily unbreathable.

Rasputin also prepared himself carefully for the rendezvous. When Yussoupov went alone at midnight to Rasputin’s flat, he found the starets smelling of cheap soap and dressed in his best embroidered silk blouse, black velvet trousers and shiny new boots. Yussoupov promised, as he took his victim away and led him down into the cellar, that Princess Irina was upstairs at a party but would be down shortly. From overhead came the sounds of “Yankee Doodle” played on a phonograph by the other conspirators, simulating the Princess’s party.

Alone in the cellar with his victim, Yussoupov nervously offered Rasputin the poisoned cakes. Rasputin refused. Then, changing his mind, he gobbled two. Yussoupov watched, expecting to see him crumple in agony, but nothing happened. Then, Rasputin asked for the Madeira, which had also been poisoned. He swallowed two glasses, still with no effect. Seeing this, wrote Yussoupov, “my head swam.” Rasputin took some tea to clear his head and, while sipping it, asked Yussoupov to sing for him with his guitar. Through one song after another, the terrified murderer sang on while the happy “corpse” sat nodding and grinning with pleasure. Huddled at the top of the stairs, scarcely daring to breathe, Purishkevich, Dmitry and the others could hear only the quavering sound of Yussoupov’s singing and the indistinguishable murmur of the two voices.

After this game had gone on for two and a half hours, Yussoupov could stand it no longer. In desperation, he rushed upstairs to ask what he should do. Lazovert had no answer: his nerves had failed and he had already fainted once. Grand Duke Dmitry suggested giving up and going home. It was Purishkevich, the oldest and steadiest of the group, who kept his head and declared that Rasputin could not be allowed to leave half dead. Steeling himself, Yussoupov volunteered to return to the cellar and complete the murder. Holding Dmitry’s Browning revolver behind his back, he went back down the stairs and found Rasputin seated, breathing heavily and calling for more wine. Reviving, Rasputin suggested a visit to the gypsies. “With God in thought, but mankind in the flesh,” he said with a heavy wink. Yussoupov then led Rasputin to the mirrored cabinet and showed him the ornate crucifix. Rasputin stared at the crucifix and declared that he liked the cabinet better. “Gregory Efimovich,” said Yussoupov, “you’d far better look at the crucifix and say a prayer.” Rasputin glared at the Prince, then turned briefly to look again at the cross. As he did so, Yussoupov fired. The bullet plunged into the broad back. With a scream, Rasputin fell backward onto the white bearskin.

Hearing the shot, Yussoupov’s friends rushed into the cellar. They found Yussoupov, revolver in hand, calmly staring down at the dying man with a look of inexpressible disgust in his eyes. Although there was not a trace of blood, Dr. Lazovert, clutching Rasputin’s pulse, quickly pronounced him dead. The diagnosis was premature. A moment later, when Yussoupov, having surrendered the revolver, was temporarily alone with the “corpse,” Rasputin’s face twitched and his left eye fluttered open. A few seconds later, his right eye also rolled open, “I then saw both eyes—the green eyes of a viper—staring at me with an expression of diabolical hatred,” Yussoupov wrote. Suddenly, while Yussoupov stood rooted to the floor, Rasputin, foaming at the mouth, leaped to his feet, grabbed his murderer by the throat and tore an epaulet off his shoulder. In terror, Yussoupov broke away and fled up the stairs. Behind him, clambering on all fours, roaring with fury, came Rasputin.

Purishkevich, upstairs, heard “a savage, inhuman cry.” It was Yussoupov: “Purishkevich, fire, fire! He’s alive! He’s getting away!” Purishkevich ran to the stairs and almost collided with the frantic Prince, whose eyes were “bulging out of their sockets. Without seeing me … he hurled himself towards the door … [and into] his parents’ apartment.”

Recovering, Purishkevich dashed outside into the courtyard. “What I saw would have been a dream if it hadn’t been a terrible reality. Rasputin, who half an hour before lay dying in the cellar, was running quickly across the snow-covered courtyard towards the iron gate which led to the street.… I couldn’t believe my eyes. But a harsh cry which broke the silence of the night persuaded me. ‘Felix! Felix! I will tell everything to the Empress!’ It was him, all right, Rasputin. In a few seconds, he would reach the iron gate.… I fired. The night echoed with the shot. I missed. I fired again. Again I missed. I raged at myself. Rasputin neared the gate. I bit with all my force the end of my left hand to force myself to concentrate and I fired a third time. The bullet hit him in the shoulders. He stopped. I fired a fourth time and hit him probably in the head. I ran up and kicked him as hard as I could with my boot in the temple. He fell into the snow, tried to rise, but he could only grind his teeth.”

With Rasputin prostrate once again, Yussoupov reappeared and struck hysterically at the bleeding man with a