Felix Yusupov nationality. The last of the Yusupovs. The secret love of a beautiful great-grandmother

If you believe astrologers, in the famous family of Russian princes Yusupov, everyone was born and died in strict accordance with the inevitable laws of Space and Earth, which were in force at the moment when the Voice sounded, placing a curse on their family...

Family coat of arms of the Yusupovs

Deep roots

For a long time, according to some legend, it was believed that the Yusupov family originated from the famous prophet Ali, that is, from Muhammad himself. However, having thoroughly researched the roots of the surname N.B. Yusupov Jr. made significant adjustments in 1866–1867. It turned out that its ancestor Bakr ibn Raik did not live during the time of Muhammad, but three centuries later and was the supreme commander of the Arab caliph Ar-Radi billah Abu-l-Abbas Ahmad ibn Jafar (907–940). Twelve generations of the descendants of the warlike Ibn Raik lived in the Middle East. They were sultans and emirs in Damascus, Egypt, Antioch, Medina, Constantinople, and Mecca. But in the 13th century, the son of Sultan Termes, who ruled in Mecca, and a group of people devoted to him decided to move to the shores of Azov and the Caspian Sea. His famous descendant Edigei (1352–1419) is considered the founder of the Crimean (Nogai) Horde. Under the great-great-grandson of Edigei - Khan Yusuf (1480s - 1555) - the Nogai Khanate reached its greatest prosperity.

Khan Yusuf was killed by his brother Ishmael in February 1555. In order not to take on the sin of killing Yusuf’s sons, Ishmael sent them to the court of Ivan the Terrible. The Russian Tsar graciously met the orphans - Il-Murza and Ibrahim-Murza, generously giving them lands.

The line of descendants of Ibrahim-Murza soon ended. But Il-Murza left five sons after his death in 1611. One of them was Seyush-Murza Yusupov-Knyazhevo. He was a brave warrior, faithfully served the Russian throne both under Mikhail Fedorovich Romanov and under Alexei Mikhailovich. The estates and title of the clan were inherited by his son from his first wife Abdullah (Abdul-Murza). Just like his father, he fought bravely in military campaigns against the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the Ottoman Empire and the Crimean Khanate.

What have you done, roast goose!

The baptism of this Russified descendant of Khan Yusuf took place under rather curious circumstances. Once Abdul-Murza hosted Patriarch Joachim and, with the best intentions, treated the Orthodox high priest to roast goose. And the dinner party was during Lent. The Patriarch, not suspecting anything, tasted the modest one, and also praised: “You have a nice fish, prince!” Abdul-Murza remained silent in response. But there was a well-wisher who whispered to the patriarch what kind of fish the infidel Nogai had fed him. Joachim, mortally offended, complained to the king. The pious sovereign, angry, deprived Murza of almost all his estates.

The descendant of Yusuf was in deep thought for a long time and finally decided, by converting to Orthodoxy, to earn the sovereign’s forgiveness and return the taken lands. According to family legend, he made this decision on the third day after the story with the goose, that is, on Easter itself. And that same night he had a vision, or maybe a prophetic dream. In short, he heard a voice: “From now on, for betraying the faith of your ancestors, out of all the children, there will be only one heir left. The rest will die before they reach 26 years of age.”

In 1681, Abdul-Murza was baptized with the name Dmitry Seyushevich. And, as predicted, all his children did die. Except for the youngest son Grigory Dmitrievich. He was five years old when his father changed his faith.

Portrait of Zinaida Yusupova with the family pearl “Pelegrina”.
Artist Francois Flameng. 1894

Whether the family legend is true or not, this story is reflected even in the interiors of Yusupov’s palaces: the lush exterior decorations often contain an image of a goose. True, the legend lives in two versions. According to the second, the clan was cursed by a Nogai sorceress after the Horde learned that the sons of Murza had converted to Christianity. It is interesting that the curse came true in almost every generation and also affected the fate of the bearers of the Yusupov surname and even illegitimate children born from representatives of the princely family.

The secret love of a beautiful great-grandmother

Zinaida Yusupova (nee Naryshkina, 1809–1893) learned about the curse after her marriage and bluntly told her husband, Boris Nikolaevich Yusupov (1794–1849), that she was not going to give birth to dead people, and therefore he was free to “satisfy his lust with the courtyard girls.” But you can’t fool nature, and the young princess herself went into all sorts of troubles. The whole of St. Petersburg was gossiping about her stormy romances. But they especially talked a lot about adultery with the young revolutionary Narodnaya Volya. When her lover ended up in the casemate of the Shlisselburg fortress, Princess Zinaida did the almost impossible: using connections at court, she ensured that the prisoner was released to her on parole.

It is difficult to say how long this fantastic romance lasted. Only years later, after three revolutions, looking for Yusupov’s treasures, representatives of the Soviet authorities knocked on all the walls and searched all the secluded places of the luxurious Naryshkina-Yusupova palace on Liteiny Prospekt in Leningrad. No treasures were found. But in a secret room connected to the princess’s bedroom, the skeleton of a man, wrapped in a shroud, suddenly fell on the security officers.

There were rumors among St. Petersburg old-timers that Yusupova had managed to rescue her lover from captivity (perhaps she simply ransomed him). But the beautiful young man suffered from consumption and did not last long...

Felix Feliksovich Yusupov Jr. (1887–1967) recalled in his memoirs that, while sorting out old papers in her bedroom after the death of his great-grandmother, he experienced inexplicable horror and immediately called a footman, hoping that an evil force - a ghost or spirit - would not appear to the two of them . What was it? The energy of unburied and unbroken ashes, forever hidden in a secret room?..

By the way, according to the Yusupov family legends, the shadows of their deceased ancestors were supposed to be invisibly present in their family nests. It is no coincidence that one of the bearers of an ancient surname, going to a ball or reception, left her caskets and boxes unlocked. She explained it this way: “Let our family spirits admire our family jewels.”

Alexander Pronin

Read the continuation in the February issue (No. 02, 2014) of the magazine “Miracles and Adventures”

Zinaida Nikolaevna and Felix Feliksovich Yusupov

The ancestors of the Yusupovs are from Abubekir, the father-in-law of the prophet, who ruled after Muhammad (about 570-632) over the entire Muslim family. Three centuries after him, his namesake Abubekir ben Rayok also ruled all the Muslims of the world and bore the title of Emir el-Omr, prince of princes and sultan of sultans, uniting in his person governmental and spiritual power. Prince N.B. Yusupov Jr. notes: “This was the supreme dignitary of the Caliph Radi-Billag, who disappeared in the ecstasy of bliss and luxury, who granted him all power in spiritual and secular meaning.”

During the era of the fall of the caliphate, the direct ancestors of the Russian princes Yusupov were rulers in Damascus, Antioch, Iraq, Persia, Egypt... Some of them were buried in Mecca, on Mount Hira, where Muhammad discovered the text of the Koran; in the Kaaba itself, sacred to Muslims, or near it - this is Baba-Tukles and his two sons, Abbas and Abdurahman. Sultan Termes, the third son of Baba-Tukles (16th tribe from Abubekir ben Rayok), driven by hostile circumstances, moved north from Arabia, to the shores of the Azov and Caspian Seas, dragging with him many tribes of Muslims loyal to him. The Nogai Horde, which emerged as a state between the Volga and the Urals, was a consequence of the resettlement of the Sultan of Termes.

Now it becomes clear the complete equality of the marriage concluded in 1914 between Prince Felix Feliksovich Yusupov and Grand Duchess Irina Alexandrovna Romanova, niece of the reigning Emperor Nicholas II: both spouses were of royal origin.

A direct descendant of Termes named Edigei was in closest and close friendship with Tamerlane himself, or Timur, the “Iron Lame” and the great conqueror. Edigei was appointed Timur's chief commander. The Mongol hordes of Tokhtamysh burned Moscow and arrogantly moved towards Tamerlane. Edigei went out to meet Tokhtamysh and killed him in single combat in front of the army. The Lithuanian prince Vytautas suffered a crushing defeat from Edigei on the Vorskla River in 1339. Tamerlan's friend imposed a tribute on the son of Dmitry Donskoy, Prince Vasily Dmitrievich. Finally, Edigei conquered Crimea and founded the Crimean Horde there.

Edigei's great-grandson was called Musa-Murza (Prince Moses, in Russian) and, according to custom, had five wives. The first, beloved, was called Kondaza. From her was born Yusuf, the ancestor of the Yusupov family. For twenty years Yusuf Murza was friends with Ivan the Terrible himself, the Russian Tsar. The descendant of the emirs considered it necessary to make friends and become related to their Muslim neighbors, “splinters” of the Mongol-Tatar invasion of Rus'. Yusuf's four daughters became the wives of the kings of Crimea, Astrakhan, Kazan and Siberia. The latter was the same Kuchum whom Ermak Timofeevich conquered at the head of his Don Cossacks.

Here is the second portrait in the gallery of Twelve Portraits of the Moscow Yusupov Palace - the beautiful Suyumbek, Queen of Kazan, beloved daughter of Yusuf Murza. She was born in 1520 and at the age of 14 became the wife of the Tsar of Kazan, Enalei. In the same year, Enalei was killed by his subjects and the Kazan people returned the formerly exiled Crimean king Saf-Girey to the kingdom.

The beauty marries a second time, this time to Saf-Girey; soon her only son, Utemish-Girey, was born. Saf-Girey introduced executions in Kazan. The Kazan people were indignant. Yunus, the son of Yusuf, decided to stand up for Saf-Girey and went to Kazan. But Saf-Girey deceived Yunus. And then both Yusuf and Yunus took the side of Ivan the Terrible. Saf-Girey started drinking and fell to his death on the steps of his own palace.

Suyumbek became a widow and queen of Kazan for the second time. Her two-year-old son Utemish-Girey was proclaimed king by the Kazan people. When the Russian Tsar approached the walls of Kazan with his army, the beautiful Suyumbek put on armor and a helmet, remembering that she was the ruler of Kazan, and became the head of the city’s defenders. At first she tried to call her father and brother for help, but they remained faithful to the agreement with John IV.

Suyumbek led the defense of Kazan so brilliantly that the famous Russian commander Prince Andrei Kurbsky was unable to take the city by storm, and the matter was decided by a secret undermining and explosion of the city walls. The Queen of Kazan was taken with honor to Moscow along with her son. And in Kazan, repeated in the architecture of the Moscow Kazan Station, the seven-tier Suyumbekin Tower, about 35 fathoms high, has remained forever, adorning the Kazan Kremlin.

The beauty's story does not end there. Ivan the Terrible installed Shikh-alley as king in Kazan. But he was soon forced to flee to Moscow, where he married Suyumbek. The daughter of Yusuf Murza is getting married for the third time. Shikh-alei takes possession of the city of Kasimov (Gorodets) and the title of Tsar of Kasimov. He moves to Kasimov with his beautiful wife.

And Utemish-Girey, the son of Suyumbeki, was baptized in Moscow. Shikh-alei died in Kasimov and was buried in 1567 in the local tomb. The beautiful queen died before him, in 1557, having lived only 37 years. Probably, her grave is also located in Kasimov. In any case, her descendant, Russian Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov Jr., thinks so when he writes in his book: “Scarlet rose hips and milk cherry trees shower the forgotten tomb with flowers!”

In Rus', the charm of Suyumbeki’s charming image lived on for a very long time. The Russians called her a sorceress. And Russian poets made her image one of the most poetic in world literature.
The poet Kheraskov, the author of the famous “Rossiyada,” made the Kazan queen the main character of his poem, one of the best in the Russian 18th century. At the beginning of the 19th century, plays by Gruzintsov “The Conquered Kazan” and Glinka “Sumbek, or the Fall of Kazan” were performed on stages in Moscow and St. Petersburg. Finally, in 1832, the stage saw Count Kutaisov’s ballet “Sumbek, or the Conquest of the Kazan Kingdom.” Pushkin was at a performance in which the role of Suyumbeki was performed by the ballerina Istomina, whom he praised in Onegin.

The sons of Yusuf Murza, the Suyumbek brothers, came to the court of Ivan the Terrible, and from then on they and their descendants began to serve the Russian sovereigns, without betraying the Muslim faith and receiving awards for their service. Thus, Tsar Fyodor Ioannovich Il-Murza was granted the entire city of Romanov with a settlement on the banks of the Volga near Yaroslavl (now the city of Tutaev). In this beautiful city, which before the revolution bore the name Romanov-Borisoglebsk, there are an abundance of churches on both banks of the Volga and also the ruins of an ancient mosque. It was in this city that an event occurred that radically changed the fate and history of the Yusupov family.

It was during the reign of Fyodor Alekseevich. The great-grandson of Yusuf-Murza, named Abdul-Murza, received Patriarch Joachim in Romanov. Historian M.I. Pylyaev recalled: “Once upon a time, the brilliant nobleman Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov was the chamber cadet on duty during dinner with Catherine the Great. The goose was served on the table.

- Do you, prince, know how to cut a goose? - Ekaterina asked Yusupov.

- Oh, the goose must be very mindful of my last name! - answered the prince. “My ancestor ate one on Good Friday and for that he was deprived of several thousand peasants granted to him.

“I would have taken away his entire estate, because it was given to him on the condition that he would not eat fast food on fasting days,” the empress remarked jokingly about this story.”

So, the great-grandfather of Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov treated the patriarch and, out of ignorance of Orthodox fasts, fed him a goose. The Patriarch mistook the goose for fish, tasted it and praised it, and the owner said: this is not a fish, but a goose, and my cook is so skilled that he can cook a goose like a fish. The Patriarch was angry and upon returning to Moscow he told the whole story to Tsar Fyodor Alekseevich. The Tsar deprived Abdul-Murza of all his awards, and the rich man suddenly became a beggar. He thought hard for three days and decided to be baptized in the Orthodox faith. Abdul-Murza, the son of Seyush-Murza, was baptized under the name Dmitry and came up with a surname in memory of his ancestor Yusuf: Yusupovo-Knyazhevo. This is how Prince Dmitry Seyushevich Yusupovo-Knyazhevo appeared in Rus'.

But that same night he had a vision. A clear voice said: “From now on, for betrayal of faith, there will not be more than one male heir in your family in each generation, and if there are more, then all but one will not live longer than 26 years.”

Dmitry Seyushevich married Princess Tatiana Fedorovna Korkodinova, and according to the prediction, only one son succeeded his father. This was Grigory Dmitrievich, who served Peter the Great, a lieutenant general, whom Peter ordered to be simply called Prince Yusupov. Grigory Dmitrievich also had only one son who lived to adulthood - Prince Boris Grigorievich Yusupov, who was the governor of Moscow. It is curious that at different times two representatives of the illustrious family held this post: in addition to Boris Grigorievich, the Governor-General of Moscow in 1915 was Felix Feliksovich Prince Yusupov, Count Sumarokov-Elston.

Boris Grigorievich Yusupov

The son of B. G. Yusupov is perhaps the most famous of the glorious family. Prince Nikolai Borisovich (1750-1831) is one of the richest nobles of Russia: there was not only a province, but even a district where he did not have a village or estate. This year marks the 250th anniversary of the birth of this wonderful man. Nikolai Borisovich was the first director of the Hermitage, and the Russian envoy to Italy, and the chief manager of the Kremlin expedition and the Armory Chamber, as well as all theaters in Russia. He created the “Versailles near Moscow” - the Arkhangelskoye estate, amazingly beautiful and rich, where A. S. Pushkin visited him twice, in 1827 and 1830. The poetic message of the great poet to Prince Yusupov, written in Moscow in 1830, is known:

...I will appear to you; I'll see this palace

Where is the architect's compass, palette and chisel?

Your learned whim was obeyed

And the inspired ones competed in magic.

In his early childhood, Pushkin lived with his parents in the prince’s Moscow palace, on Bolshoi Kharitonyevsky Lane. Images of the outlandish oriental garden surrounding the palace were later reflected in the prologue of “Ruslan and Lyudmila”. The poet also brings his beloved heroine Tatyana Larina here in the seventh chapter of “Eugene Onegin” - “to Moscow for the brides’ fair”:

At Kharitonya's alley

Cart in front of the house at the gate

Has stopped…

And the poet simply connects Tatyana with the princely family of the Yusupovs: after all, they came to visit Tatyana’s aunt, Princess Alina, and in the 20s of the last century, Princess Alina, N.B. Yusupov’s sister Alexandra Borisovna, actually lived in Moscow in the Yusupov Palace. We find a number of reflections of the poet’s conversations with Prince Yusupov in the images of Pushkin’s famous Boldino autumn, and when the prince died, the poet wrote in a letter: “My Yusupov died.”

Zinaida Nikolaevna Yusupova

Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov

He was a talented musician and writer, vice-director of the St. Petersburg Public Library, married to Duchess Tatyana Alexandrovna de Ribopierre. Prince Nikolai Borisovich Jr. ended the male line of the ancient family.

Zinaida Nikolaevna Yusupova

Felix Feliksovich Yusupov Sr.

Yusupov family

Zinaida Nikolaevna Yusupova

And Emperor Alexander III, satisfying the request of Prince N.B. Yusupov Jr., so that the famous surname would not be suppressed, allows Count Sumarokov-Elston to also be called Prince Yusupov. This title was supposed to pass to the eldest of the sons.

Yusupov family

In a happy marriage, two sons were born and raised, both graduated from Oxford University.

Felix Yusupov

The eldest was called Prince Nikolai Feliksovich Yusupov (1883-1908).

Nikolai Yusupov, older brother of Felix Yusupov Jr.

Parents had already begun to forget about the terrible prediction when, on the eve of his 26th birthday, Nikolai Feliksovich fell in love with a woman whose husband challenged him to a duel and... killed him. The duel took place in St. Petersburg on Krestovsky Island in June 1908, on the estate of the Beloselsky-Belozersky princes. Nicholas fired into the air both times... “The body was placed in the chapel,” writes the younger brother Felix, to whom the title of Prince Yusupov passed. Prince Nikolai Feliksovich was buried in Arkhangelskoye near Moscow.

Shocked parents, having buried their eldest son, built a temple-tomb in Arkhangelsk where the Yusupov princes were supposed to find their final refuge. The temple was erected by the famous Moscow architect R.I. Klein until 1916. The revolution broke out, and the temple never accepted a single burial under its vaults. And so it stands to this day as a monument to a terrible curse on the family of the Yusupov princes, opening the wings of the colonnades towards fate...

“After all my meetings with Rasputin, everything I saw and heard, I was finally convinced that all the evil and the main cause of all the misfortunes of Russia are hidden in him: there will be no Rasputin, there will not be that satanic force into whose hands the Tsar and the Empress fell.”

Serov, Valentin Alexandrovich. Portrait of Prince F.F. Yusupova. 1903.

Felix Yusupov is one of the most controversial characters in Russian history. Despite his untold wealth, the last of the Yusupov family, Prince Felix Feliksovich, is remembered more as a participant in the conspiracy against the famous elder of the people, the Russian peasant Grigory Raputin. And even the fact that Felix Yusupov was one of the richest people in Russia at the beginning of the twentieth century, he remained in history not as a rich man, but as a murderer. Meanwhile, the personality was very interesting. Just look at the memoirs he left behind, in which he describes in detail both the “elimination” of Rasputin and the events preceding it.

But who really was Felix Yusupov? And how justified was the fact of killing the “elder” on the scale of a huge country - the Russian Empire, which supposedly stood on the threshold of the abyss with the arrival of Grigory Rasputin in the royal house? But first, a little about Felix Yusupov himself.

So, Felix Feliksovich Count Sumarokov-Elston, Prince Yusupov (1887-1967) is the great-great-grandson of M.I. Kutuzov and a collateral grandson of the Prussian king Frederick William IV.

“I was born on March 24, 1887 in our St. Petersburg house on the Moika. The day before, they assured me, my mother danced the night away at a ball in the Winter Palace, which means they said the child would be cheerful and inclined to dance. Indeed, by nature I am a merry fellow, but I am a bad dancer.

At baptism I received the name Felix. I was baptized by my maternal grandfather, Prince Nikolai Yusupov, and my great-grandmother, Countess de Chauveau. At the christening in my home church, the priest almost drowned me in the font, where he dipped me three times according to Orthodox custom. They say I forcibly came to my senses.

I was born so frail that the doctors gave me a day to live, and so ugly that my five-year-old brother Nikolai shouted when he saw me: “Throw him out the window!”

I was born the fourth boy. Two died in infancy. While carrying me, my mother was expecting her daughter, and they made a pink trousseau for the children. My mother was disappointed with me and, to console herself, she dressed me as a girl until I was five. I was not upset, on the contrary, I was proud. “Look,” I shouted to passers-by on the street, “how beautiful I am!” Mother’s whim subsequently left its mark on my character.” (Prince Felix Yusupov. Memoirs)

In adolescence, the prince suffered from sleepwalking, and throughout his life he was prone to mysticism. He was no stranger to oddities, quirks and shocking antics. “Sladu was not with me. I did not tolerate coercion. If I want something, take it out and put it in; indulged his whims and thirsted for freedom, and then there was a flood.”

A year before Valentin Serov painted the portrait of the “graphic artist” (as the artist ironically called young Felix behind his back), his parents sent their fifteen-year-old son on a trip to Italy “with the old art teacher Adrian Prakhov.” The famous art historian and archaeologist “taught me, however, not exactly what he should have,” Felix Yusupov later complained. The mentor and student visited Renaissance churches and museums during the day and brothels at night.

Young Yusupov very soon became a “socialite,” a transvestite and bisexual. At the Parisian Theater De Capucine, in a luxurious women's outfit, he even attracted the attention of King Edward VII himself. In his female guise, he will perform gypsy songs as a soprano at the Aquarium, the most luxurious cabaret in St. Petersburg, and the officers will invite him to dinner at the Bear’s. “The women submitted to me, but they didn’t stay with me for long. I was already used to being looked after, and I didn’t want to look after me. And most importantly, I loved only myself. I liked being the object of love and attention. And even this was not important, but it was important that all my whims were fulfilled.”

Years later, Felix Yusupov one day, in a difficult moment, will stop in front of Serov’s portrait hanging in Arkhangelskoye. This will happen when his older brother Nikolai dies in a duel, and he will become the sole heir to the entire Yusupov fortune. “An endless park with statues and hornbeam alleys. A palace with priceless treasures. And someday they will be mine, he thought at that moment. “But this is a small fraction of all the wealth destined for me by fate.” I am one of the richest people in Russia! This thought was intoxicating... Luxury, wealth and power - this seemed to be life to me. I hated the squalor... But what if a war or revolution ruins me?.. But this thought was unbearable. I rather returned to myself. On the way, I stopped in front of my own portrait by Serov. He looked at himself carefully. Serov is a genuine physiognomist; he captured character like no one else. The boy in the portrait before me was proud, vain and heartless. Therefore, the death of my brother did not change me: still the same selfish dreams? And I became so disgusted with myself that I almost committed suicide! And that’s to say: I felt sorry for my parents.”

Felix had a long and strange life ahead of him. He studied for three years at Oxford University College, but did not acquire much education or high culture. He studied in the Corps of Pages. Travel the length and breadth of Europe. He became related to the royal family, successfully marrying the niece of Emperor Nicholas II, Princess Irina Alexandrovna: her mother was the sovereign’s sister. And after 1919 he would leave his beloved Russia forever. In exile - in Paris, he will write extensive memoirs in French, as well as a separate book about the murder of Rasputin. In them, with his characteristic aristocracy and stubbornness, completely devoid of self-criticism, he will tell who the “evil genius Rasputin” really was.

"Rasputin must disappear"

“At the end of August 1915, it was officially announced that Grand Duke Nicholas was removed from the post of commander in chief and sent to the Caucasian front, and the emperor himself took command of the army. Society greeted the news with, in general, hostility. It was no secret to anyone that everything was done under the pressure of the “elder”. Rasputin, persuading the tsar, first intrigued, then finally appealed to his Christian conscience. The Emperor, no matter how slight a hindrance he may be, would still be better out of sight. No Nikolai - hands are untied. With the departure of the sovereign to the army, Rasputin began to visit Tsarskoe almost every day. His advice and opinions acquired the force of law and were immediately transferred to Headquarters. Not a single military decision was made without asking the “elder”. The queen trusted him blindly, and he solved pressing and sometimes secret state issues head-on. Through the empress, Rasputin ruled the state.

The grand dukes and nobles hatched a conspiracy to remove the empress from power and tonsure her hair. Rasputin was supposed to be exiled to Siberia, the Tsar to be deposed, and Tsarevich Alexei to be elevated to the throne. Everyone, right down to the generals, was in the conspiracy. The English ambassador, Sir George Buchanan, who had relations with left-wing parties, was suspected of assisting the revolutionaries.

In the imperial circle, many tried to explain to the sovereign how dangerous the influence of the “elder” was both for the dynasty and for Russia as a whole. But everyone had the same answer: “Everything is slander. Saints are always slandered." During one orgy, the “saint” was photographed and the photographs were shown to the queen. She became angry and ordered the police to find the scoundrel who supposedly dared to pretend to be an “old man” in order to discredit him. Empress Maria Feodorovna wrote to the Tsar, begging him to remove Rasputin and prohibit the Tsarina from interfering in state affairs. She was not the only one who prayed for this. The king told the queen, for he had told her everything. She ended relations with everyone who allegedly “put pressure” on the sovereign.

My mother was one of the first to speak out against the “elder”. One day she had a particularly long conversation with the queen and, it would seem, was able to open her eyes to the “Russian peasant.” But Rasputin and company did not sleep. They found a thousand excuses and removed Mother from the Empress. They didn't see each other for a long time. Finally, in the summer of 1916, my mother decided to try one last time and asked to be received at the Alexander Palace. The queen greeted her coldly and, having learned about the purpose of the visit, asked her to leave the palace. Mother replied that she would not leave until she said everything. And she really said everything. The Empress listened silently, stood up and, turning to leave, said goodbye: “I hope we won’t see each other again.”

Later, Grand Duchess Elizaveta Fedorovna, also almost never visiting Tsarskoe, came to talk with her sister. After that we waited for her at home. We sat on pins and needles, wondering how it would end. She came to us trembling and in tears. “My sister kicked me out like a dog! - she exclaimed. “Poor Niki, poor Russia!”

Germany, meanwhile, sent spies from Sweden and corrupt bankers to surround the “old man.” Rasputin, when drunk, became talkative and blurted out everything to them involuntarily, or even voluntarily. I think this is how Germany learned the day of Lord Kitchener’s arrival to us. Kitchener's ship, sailing to Russia to persuade the Emperor to expel Rasputin and remove the Empress from power, was destroyed on June 6, 1916.

In this year, 1916, when things were getting worse at the front, and the tsar was weakening from the narcotic potions with which he was doped every day at the instigation of Rasputin, the “old man” became omnipotent. Not only did he appoint and dismiss ministers and generals, push around bishops and archbishops, he set out to depose the sovereign, place the sick heir on the throne, declare the empress regent and conclude a separate peace with Germany.

There was no hope left for the sovereigns to open their eyes. How, in this case, can we rid Russia of its evil genius? Grand Duke Dmitry and Duma deputy Purishkevich asked the same question as me. Without talking yet, each one alone, we came to a single conclusion: Rasputin must be removed, even at the cost of murder.

“Rasputin - What he was like - Causes and consequences of his influence”

Our memory is woven from light and shadow, the memories left by a stormy life are sometimes sad, sometimes joyful, sometimes tragic, sometimes wonderful. There are beautiful ones, there are terrible ones, those that would have been better not to have existed at all.

In 1927, I wrote the book “The End of Rasputin” simply because it was necessary to tell the truth in response to the false stories that were published everywhere. Today I would not return to this truth if I could leave a gap in my memoirs. And only the importance and seriousness of the matter makes me fill the page. I will briefly retell the facts that I wrote about in detail in that first book.

Much has been said about Rasputin's political role. But the “old man” himself and his wild behavior, which may be the reason for his success, are less described. Therefore, I think, before telling about what happened in the basements on the Moika, we need to talk in more detail about the subject whom Grand Duke Dmitry and Deputy Purishkevich and I decided to destroy.

He was born in 1871 in Pokrovskaya Sloboda, Tobolsk province. Grigory Efimovich’s parent is a bitter drunkard, thief and profit dealer Efim Novykh. The son followed in his father’s footsteps - he bought horses and was a “varnak”. “Varnak” among the Siberians means an inveterate scoundrel. Growing up, Gregory was called “the libertine” in the village, hence his surname. The peasants beat him with sticks, the bailiff, on the orders of the police chief, was publicly punished with a whip, but he, no matter what, only became stronger.

The influence of the local priest awakened in him a craving for mysticism. This desire, however, was rather dubious: his rough, sensual temperament soon led him to the Khlysty sect. The Khlysty allegedly communicated with the Holy Spirit and embodied God through “Christs” through the most unbridled passions. There were pagan and completely primitive remnants and prejudices in this Khlyst heresy. For their nightly zeal, they gathered in a hut or in a clearing, burned hundreds of candles and brought themselves to religious ecstasy and erotic delirium. First there were prayers and chants, then round dances. They started circling slowly, sped up, and finally spun around like crazy. Vertigo was required for “God’s illumination.” Whoever is weak is whipped by the leader of the Round Dance. And now everyone fell to the ground in ecstatic writhing. The round dance ended with general copulation. However, the “Holy Spirit” has already moved into them, and they are not responsible for themselves: the Spirit speaks and acts through them, therefore, the sin committed at his direction lies on him.

Rasputin was a special master of “God’s insights.” He set up a log house without windows in his yard, a bathhouse, so to speak), where he staged performances with a Khlyst mystical-sadistic scent.

The priests informed him, and he had to leave the village. By that time he was thirty-three years old. And he started walking around Siberia, and further across Russia, to large monasteries. He went out of his way to seem like the holiest person. He tortured himself like a fakir, developing his will and the magnetic power of his gaze. I read Church Slavonic books in monastery libraries. Having no previous training and not burdened with knowledge, he immediately memorized texts, not understanding them, but putting them in Memory. In the future, they were useful to him in order to conquer not only the ignorant, but also knowledgeable people, and the queen herself, who completed a course in philosophy at Oxford.

In St. Petersburg, at the Alexander Nevsky Lavra, he was received by his father John of Kronstadt. At first, Father John bowed his soul to this “young Siberian oracle” and saw in him a “spark of God.”

Petersburg, therefore, was conquered. New opportunities have opened up for the scammer. And he returned to his village, having made his profits. First he makes friends with semi-literate sextons and clerks, then he wins over priests and abbots. These too see him as a “messenger of God.”

And that's what the devil wants. In Tsaritsyn, he deflowers a nun under the pretext of exorcizing demons. In Kazan, he was seen running out of a brothel with a naked girl in front of him, whom he whipped with a belt. In Tobolsk, he seduces his husband's wife, a pious lady, the wife of an engineer, and brings her to the point where she loudly shouts about her passion for him and boasts of her shame. So what? The whip is allowed to do everything! And the sinful connection with him is the grace of God.

The glory of the “saint” is growing by leaps and bounds. The people kneel down when they see him. “Our Christ; Our Savior, pray for us sinners! The Lord will listen to you!” And he said to them: “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I bless you, brothers. Believe! Christ will come soon. Endure the Honest Crucifixion for the sake of it! For his sake, mortify your flesh!..”

Such was the man who in 1906 introduced himself as a young chosen one of God, learned, but simple-minded; Archimandrite Feofan, rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy and personal confessor of the Empress. He, Feofan, an honest and pious shepherd, would become his patron in St. Petersburg church circles.

The St. Petersburg prophet quickly conquered the capital's occultists and necromancers. Some of the first, most ardent adherents of the “man of God” are the Montenegrin Grand Duchesses. It was they who brought the magician Philip to the court in 1900. It is they who will introduce Rasputin to the Emperor and Empress. Archimandrite Feofan’s review dispelled the sovereign’s last doubts:

“Grigory Efimovich is a simple peasant. It is useful for Your Majesties to listen to the voice of the Russian land itself. I know what they blame him for. All his sins are known to me. There are many of them, some serious ones. But such is the strength of his repentance and his simple-minded faith in the mercy of God that, I am sure, he is destined for eternal bliss. Having repented, he is as pure as a child, only taken out of the font. The Lord clearly marked him.”

Rasputin turned out to be cunning and far-sighted: he did not hide his peasant origin. “A man in greased boots is trampling the palace parquet,” he will say to himself. But he doesn’t make his career out of flattery, not at all. He speaks harshly to the sovereigns, almost rudely and stupidly - “in the voice of the Russian land.” Maurice Paleologue, at that time the French ambassador in St. Petersburg, said that, having asked one lady whether she was also interested in Rasputin, he heard in response:

"I? Not at all! Physically, he’s even disgusting to me! Hands are dirty, nails are black, beard is unkempt! Phew!.. But he’s still interesting! He is a passionate and artistic person. Sometimes very eloquent. He has imagination and a sense of the mysterious... He is sometimes simple, sometimes mocking, sometimes passionate, sometimes stupid, sometimes cheerful, sometimes poetic. But at the same time it is always natural. Moreover: shameless and cynical astonishingly..."

Anna Vyrubova, the queen's maid of honor and confidante, very soon became Rasputin's friend and ally. I have already told you about her, nee Taneyeva, one of my childhood friends, a fat and plain-looking young lady. In 1903, she became the Empress's maid of honor, and four years later she married naval officer Vyrubov. They were married with great pomp in the Tsarskoe Selo palace church. The Empress was a witness at the wedding ceremony. A few days later she wanted to introduce Anyuta to the “elder”. Blessing the newlywed, Rasputin said: “Your marriage will not be happy or long.” The prediction came true.

The young people settled in Tsarskoe near the Alexander Palace. One evening, returning home, Vyrubov discovered that the door was locked. They told him that the Empress and Rasputin were visiting his wife. He waited for them to leave, entered the house and created a stormy scene for his wife, because the day before he strictly forbade her to receive the “elder”. They say that he beat her. Anyuta ran out of the house and rushed to the empress, begging her to protect her from her husband, who, she screamed, would kill her. Soon the divorce took place.

The matter is sensational. Its participants turned out to be too significant. The consequences were fatal. The Empress defended Anna. Rasputin did not yawn and managed to subjugate the empress's friend. And henceforth she became his obedient instrument.

Vyrubova was not worthy of the empress's friendship. She loved to love the empress, but not at all disinterestedly. She loved as the master’s slave loves, she did not let anyone near the sick, anxious queen, and for this purpose she slandered everyone around her.

As Tsaritsyn's confidante, Anna Taneyeva-Vyrubova was in a special position, and with the appearance of Rasputin she received new opportunities. She was not smart enough to be involved in politics, but she could influence as a party, at least as a mediator. The thought intoxicated her. She will reveal to Rasputin all the secrets of the empress and help him take over state affairs.

And so it happened: the “elder” quickly came into power. Endless petitioners flocked to him. There were high officials, church hierarchs, high society ladies, and many others.

Rasputin acquired a valuable assistant - the therapist Badmaev, a man of Eastern origin, an ignorant doctor, who claimed that he had brought from Mongolia magical herbs and potions that he had obtained from Tibetan magicians by hook or by crook. But in fact, he himself brewed these potions from powders taken from a pharmacist friend. He served his dope and stimulants as “Tibetan Elixir”, “Nguyen-Chen Balm”, “Black Lotus Essence”, etc. The charlatan and the “elder” were worthy of each other and quickly found a common language.

As you know, trouble has come, open the gate. The defeat in the Russo-Japanese War, the revolutionary unrest of 1905, and the illness of the prince increased the need for God's help, and therefore for the “messenger of God.”

In truth, Rasputin’s main trump card was the blinding of the unfortunate Empress Alexandra Feodorovna. It is difficult to say what explains and, perhaps to some extent, excuses it.

Princess Alice of Hesse came to Russia in mourning. She became a queen without having time to either get used to it or make friends with the people over whom she was going to reign. But, immediately finding herself in the center of everyone’s attention, she, naturally shy and nervous, became completely embarrassed and stiff. And therefore she was known as cold and callous. And there is both arrogant and contemptuous. But she had faith in her special mission and a passionate desire to help her husband, shocked by the death of his father and the severity of his new role. She began to interfere in the affairs of the state. Then they decided that she was, in addition, power-hungry, and the sovereign was weak. The young queen realized that neither the court nor the people liked her, and completely withdrew into herself.

Conversion to Orthodoxy strengthened her natural inclination towards mysticism and exaltation. Hence her craving for the sorcerers Papus and Philip, then for the “elder”. But the main reason for her blind faith in the “man of God” is the terrible illness of the prince. The first person for a mother is the one in whom she sees the savior of her child. Moreover, the son, beloved and long-awaited, for whose life she trembles every minute, is the heir to the throne! Playing on the parental and royal feelings of the sovereigns, Rasputin took all of Russia into his hands.

Of course, Rasputin had hypnotic powers. Minister Stolypin, who openly fought with him, told how, having once called him to himself, he almost fell under his hypnosis himself:

“He fixed his colorless eyes on me and began spouting Bible verses, waving his arms strangely. I felt disgust for the rogue and at the same time his very strong psychological impact on me. However, I controlled myself, told him to shut up and said that he was entirely in my power.”

Stolypin, who miraculously survived the first attempt on his life in 1906, was killed shortly after this meeting.

The scandalous behavior of the “elder,” his behind-the-scenes influence on state affairs, and the unbridledness of his morals finally outraged far-sighted people. The press, regardless of censorship, has already taken up this issue.

Rasputin decided to disappear for a while. In March 1911, he took the pilgrim's staff and went to Jerusalem. Later he appeared in Tsaritsyn, where he spent the summer with his friend, Hieromonk Iliodor. In the winter he returned to St. Petersburg and again went into all serious troubles.

The “elder” seemed holy only from a distance. The cab drivers who took him and the girls to the baths, the waiters who served him at night orgies, the spies who followed him, knew the value of his “holiness.” This was, of course, to the benefit of the revolutionaries.

Others, initially his patrons, saw the light. Archimandrite Feofan, cursing himself for his blindness, could not forgive himself for introducing Rasputin to the court. He publicly spoke out against the “elder”. And all he achieved was that he was exiled to Taurida. At the same time, the Tobolsk diocese was given to a corrupt, ignorant monk, an old friend of his. This allowed the Chief Prosecutor of the Synod to present Rasputin for ordination. The Orthodox Church objected. Bishop Hermogenes of Saratov especially protested. He gathered priests and monks, including Rasputin's former comrade Iliodor, and called the "elder" to him. The meeting was stormy. The candidate for priests did not fare well. They shouted: “Damned! Blasphemer! Libertine! Dirty cattle! A tool of the devil!..” Finally, they simply spat in his face. Rasputin tried to respond with abuse. His Holiness, of gigantic stature, hit Rasputin on the top of the head with his pectoral cross: “On your knees, you wretch! Kneel before the holy icons!.. Ask the Lord for forgiveness for your indecencies! Swear that you will no longer desecrate the palace of our sovereign with your presence!..”

Rasputin, sweating and bleeding from his nose, began beating his chest, muttering prayers, swearing everything they demanded. But as soon as he left them, he rushed to Tsarskoye Selo to complain. Revenge followed immediately. A few days later, Hermogenes was removed from his bishopric, and Iliodor was captured and exiled to serve his sentence in a distant monastery. And yet Rasputin did not receive the priesthood.

Following the church, the Duma rose up. “I will sacrifice myself, I will kill the scoundrel myself!” – Deputy Purishkevich shouted. Vladimir Nikolaevich Kokovtsov, chairman of the Council of Ministers, went to the Tsar and begged him to send Rasputin to Siberia. On the same day, Rasputin called a close friend of Kokovtsov. “Your friend the chairman bullied the Pope,” he said. - He said nasty things to me, but what's the point? Mom and Dad still love me. So tell your Nikolaich Volodka.” Under pressure from Rasputin and his comrades in 1914, V.N. Kokovtsov was removed from the post of chairman of the council.

The Emperor, however, realized that he should give in to public opinion. Only once did he not heed the empress’s pleas and sent Rasputin to his village in Siberia.

For two years, the “elder” appeared in St. Petersburg only briefly, but people in the palace still danced to his tune. When leaving, he warned: “I know that they will blaspheme me. Don't listen to anyone! Leave me, and in six months you will lose both the throne and the boy.”

One friend of the “elder” received a letter from Papus to the empress, written at the end of 1915, which ended like this: “From a cabalistic point of view, Rasputin is like Pandora’s box. It contains all the sins, atrocities and abominations of the Russian people. If this box breaks, the contents will immediately scatter throughout Russia.”

In the fall of 1912, the royal family was in Spala, Poland. A minor bruise caused the prince to bleed severely. The child was dying. In the church there the priests prayed day and night. In Moscow, a prayer service was served in front of the miraculous icon of the Iveron Mother of God. In St. Petersburg, people constantly lit candles in the Kazan Cathedral. Rasputin was told everything. He telegraphed to the queen: “The Lord has seen your tears and heeded your prayers. Don’t crash, your son will live.” The next day the boy's fever subsided. Two days later, the prince recovered and became stronger. And the unfortunate empress’s faith in Rasputin strengthened.

In 1914, a certain peasant woman stabbed Rasputin with a knife. For more than a month his life hung in the balance. Contrary to all expectations, the “elder” recovered from the terrible knife wound. In September he returned to St. Petersburg. At first, he seemed to be somewhat distant. The Empress was busy with her hospital, workshops, and ambulance train. Those close to her said that she had never been so good. Rasputin did not appear at the palace without calling first. This was new. Everyone noticed and rejoiced. However, the “elder” was surrounded by influential people who associated their own success with him. Soon he became even stronger than before.

In July 15th, the new chief prosecutor of the Synod, Samarin, reported to the emperor that he would not be able to fulfill his duties if Rasputin continued to push around the church authorities. The Emperor ordered the expulsion of the “elder,” but a month later he returned to St. Petersburg.

Conspiracy – Hypnosis session – Confession of the “elder”

Confident that action was necessary, I opened up to Irina. She and I were like-minded people. I hoped that I would easily find determined people who were ready to act with me. I talked first with one, then with the other. And my hopes were dispelled. Those who were seething with hatred for the “old man” suddenly loved him as soon as I suggested moving from words to deeds. Your own peace of mind and safety turned out to be more valuable.

Duma Chairman Rodzianko answered, however, quite differently. “How can we act here,” he said, “if all the ministers and those close to His Majesty are Rasputin’s people? Yes, there is only one way out: kill the scoundrel. But in Russia there is not a single daredevil for this. If I weren't so old, I would have finished him off myself."

Rodzianka’s words strengthened me. But is it possible to calmly think about how exactly you will kill?

I have already said that I am not a warrior by nature. In the internal struggle that was taking place in me, a force that was not characteristic of me prevailed.

Dmitry was at Headquarters. In his absence, I often saw Lieutenant Sukhotin, who was wounded at the front and was undergoing treatment in St. Petersburg. He was a reliable friend. I trusted him and asked if he would help. Sukhotin promised without hesitating for a moment.

Our conversation took place on the day when I returned to. K. Dmitry. I met him the next morning. The Grand Duke admitted that he himself had long been thinking about murder, although he could not imagine a way to kill the “elder”. Dmitry shared with me the impressions he took from Headquarters. They were worried. It seemed to him that the sovereign was being deliberately doped with a potion, supposedly a medicine, in order to paralyze his will. Dmitry added that he had to return to Headquarters, but he would probably not stay there for long, because the palace commandant, General Voeikov, wanted to distance him from the sovereign.

In the evening Lieutenant Sukhotin came to see me. I recounted to him our conversation with the Grand Duke, and we immediately began to think about a plan of action. They decided that I would become friends with Rasputin and gain his trust in order to know exactly about his political steps.

We have not yet completely given up the hope of doing without bloodshed, for example, of paying him off with money. If bloodshed was inevitable, the last decision remained to be made. I suggested casting lots as to which of us would shoot at the “old man.”

Very soon, my friend, young lady G., from whom I met Rasputin in 1909, called me and invited me to come to her mother the next day to see the “old man.” Grigory Efimovich wanted to renew acquaintance.

The animal runs towards the catcher. But, I admit, it was painful to abuse the trust of Mlle G., who did not suspect anything. I had to drown out the voice of my conscience.

The next day, therefore, I arrived at G. Very soon the “old man” also arrived. He has changed a lot. He got fat, his face was swollen. He no longer wore a simple peasant caftan; he now sported a blue silk shirt with embroidery and velvet trousers. In his manner, it seemed to me, he was even ruder and more shameless.

When he noticed me, he winked and smiled. Then he came up and kissed me, and I had difficulty hiding my disgust. Rasputin seemed preoccupied and paced restlessly back and forth in the living room. He asked several times if they had called him on the phone. Finally he sat down next to me and began to ask what I was doing these days. I asked when I was leaving for the front. I tried to answer kindly, but his patronizing tone irritated me.

Having heard everything he wanted to know about me, Rasputin launched into lengthy, incoherent discussions about the Lord God and love for one's neighbor. In vain I searched for meaning in them or even a hint of the personal. The more I listened, the more convinced I became that he himself did not understand what he was talking about. He spilled, and his fans looked at him reverently and enthusiastically. They absorbed every word, seeing the deepest mystical meaning in everything.

Rasputin always boasted of his gift as a healer, and I decided that in order to get closer to him, I would ask him to heal me. I told him that I was sick. He said I was very tired and the doctors couldn’t do anything.

“I’ll cure you,” he replied. - Doctors don’t understand anything. But for me, my dear, everyone gets better, because I treat like the Lord, and my treatment is not human, but God’s. But you'll see for yourself.

Then the phone rang. “I must,” he said worriedly. “Go find out what’s the matter,” he ordered Mademoiselle G. The girl immediately left, not at all surprised by the boss’s tone.

They actually called Rasputin. After talking on the phone, he returned with an upset face, hastily said goodbye and left.

I decided not to seek a meeting with him until he himself showed up.

He showed up soon. That same evening they brought me a note from young lady G. In it, she conveyed an apology from Rasputin for his sudden departure and invited him to come the next day and bring a guitar with him, at the request of the “old man.” Having learned that I was singing, he wanted to listen to me. I immediately agreed.

And this time again I came to G. a little earlier than Rasputin. While he was gone, I asked the hostess why he left so suddenly the day before.

“He was informed that some important matter threatened to end badly. Fortunately,” the girl added, “everything worked out.” Grigory Efimovich became angry and shouted a lot, they got scared and gave in.

- Where exactly? – I asked.

Mll. G. stopped short.

“In Tsarskoe Selo,” she said reluctantly.

The “elder,” as it turned out, was worried about the appointment of Protopopov to the post of Minister of Internal Affairs. The Rasputinites were in favor, everyone else dissuaded the Tsar. As soon as Rasputin appeared in Tsarskoe, the appointment took place.

Rasputin arrived in excellent spirits and with a thirst for communication.

“Don’t be angry, my dear, about what happened yesterday,” he told me. - It's not my fault. It was necessary to punish the villains. Many of them are now divorced.

“I settled everything,” he continued, turning to Miss G., “I had to hurry to the palace myself.” Before I could enter, Annushka was right there. He whines and babbles: “Everything is lost, Grigory Efimych, only hope is for you. And here you are, thank God.” I was accepted immediately. I look - Mom is not in a good mood, and Dad is walking around the room back and forth, back and forth. As soon as I shouted, they immediately calmed down. And when he threatened that I would leave and well, they completely agreed to everything.

We went to the dining room. Mlle G. poured tea and treated the “old man” with sweets and cakes.

– Have you seen how kind and affectionate she is? - he said. - Always thinks about me. Did you bring your guitar?

- Yes, here she is.

- Well, come on, sing, we’ll listen.

I made an effort, took the guitar and sang a gypsy romance.

“Eat well,” he said. - You whine with your soul. Sing again.

I sang more, both sad and happy. Rasputin wanted a continuation.

“You seem to like the way I sing,” I said. - But if you knew how bad I feel. There seems to be enthusiasm and a desire, but it doesn’t turn out the way we would like. I'm getting tired soon. Doctors are treating me, but to no avail.

- Yes, I’ll correct you right away. Let's go together to the gypsies, all the ailments will go away as if by hand.

– I’ve already walked, I’ve walked more than once. And it didn’t help at all,” I answered with a laugh.

Rasputin also laughed.

- But with me, my dove, it’s a different matter. With me, darling, the fun is different. Let's go, you won't regret it.

And Rasputin told in detail how he played tricks with the gypsies, how he sang and danced with them.

Mother and daughter G. did not know where to put their eyes. The greasy manners of the “old man” confused them.

“Don’t believe anything,” the ladies said. - Grigory Efimovich is joking. This was not the case. He's talking about himself.

The owner's excuses infuriated Rasputin. He slammed his fist on the table and swore dirty. The ladies fell silent. The “elder” turned to me again.

“Well,” he said, “let’s go to the gypsies?” I'm telling you, I'll correct you. You will see. You'll say thank you later. And we’ll take the girl with us.

Mlle G. blushed, her mother turned pale.

“Grigory Efimovich,” she said, “what is this?” Why are you disgracing yourself? And what does my daughter have to do with it? She wants to pray with you, and you take her to the gypsies... It’s not good to say that...

- What else did you come up with? – Rasputin answered, looking at her angrily. “You don’t know what, if you’re with me, there’s no sin.” And what fly bit you today? And you, my dear,” he continued, turning to me again, “don’t listen to her, do what I say, and everything will be fine.”

I didn’t want to go to the gypsies at all. However, not wanting to refuse outright, I replied that I was enrolled in the page corps and did not have the right to attend entertainment establishments.

But Rasputin stood his ground. He assured me that he would dress me up so that no one would recognize me and everything would be quiet. I, however, did not promise him anything, but said that I would call him on the phone later.

At parting he told me:

- I want to see you often. Come and have tea with me. Just be ahead of time. – And unceremoniously patted me on the shoulder.

Our relationship, necessary for the implementation of my plan, grew stronger. But what effort it cost me! After every meeting with Rasputin, it seemed to me that I was covered in dirt. That evening I called him and flatly refused the gypsies, citing the tomorrow exam, for which I supposedly had to prepare. My studies actually took a lot of time, and my meetings with the “elder” had to be postponed.

Some time passed. I met young lady G.

- Aren’t you ashamed? - she said. – Grigory Efimovich is still waiting for us.

She asked me to go with her the next day to the “elder,” and I promised.

Arriving at Fontanka, we left the car at the corner of Gorokhovaya and walked to house No. 64, where Rasputin lived. Each of his guests did exactly this - as a precaution so as not to attract the attention of the police who were watching the house. Mll. G. reported that people from the “elder’s” guard were on duty on the main staircase, and we went up the side one. Rasputin himself revealed it to us.

- And here you are! - he told me. - And I was already angry with you. How many days have I been waiting for you?

He led us from the kitchen to the bedroom. It was small and simply furnished. In the corner along the wall stood a narrow bed covered with fox skin - a gift from Vyrubova. Next to the bed is a large painted wooden chest. In the corner opposite are icons and a lamp. On the walls are portraits of sovereigns and cheap engravings of biblical scenes. From the bedroom we went into the dining room, where tea was served.

A samovar was boiling on the table, there were pies, cookies, nuts and other delicacies in plates, jam and fruit in vases, and a basket of flowers in the middle.

There was oak furniture, chairs with high backs and a full-wall buffet with dishes. Poor painting and a bronze lamp with a shade above the table completed the decoration.

Everything breathed with philistinism and prosperity.

Rasputin sat us down for tea. At first the conversation didn't go well. The phone kept ringing and visitors appeared, to whom he went into the next room. Walking back and forth visibly angered him.

During one of his absences, a large basket of flowers was brought into the dining room. There was a note pinned to the bouquet.

- Grigory Yefimitch? - I asked Mlle G.

She nodded affirmatively.

Rasputin soon returned. He didn't even look at the flowers. He sat down next to me and poured himself some tea.

“Grigory Yefimitch,” I said, “they bring you flowers, like a prima donna.”

He laughed.

- These women are fools, they spoil me, fools. They send flowers every day. They know that I love you.

Then he turned to Mlle G.

- Go out for an hour. I need to talk to him.

G. obediently stood up and left.

As soon as we were alone, Rasputin moved forward and took my hand.

“What, dear,” he said, “are I doing well?” But come more often, it will be even better.

He looked into my eyes.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t eat you,” he continued affectionately. - Once you get to know me, you will see for yourself what kind of person I am. I can do everything. Dad and Mom listen to me anyway. And you listen. This evening I’ll be with them and tell them that I gave you tea. They'll love it.

I, however, did not at all want the sovereigns to know about my meeting with Rasputin. I understood that the empress would tell everything to Vyrubova, and she would sense something was wrong. And she will be right. My hatred for the “old man” was known to her. I once admitted this to her myself.

“You know, Grigory Yefimitch,” I said, “it would be better if you didn’t tell them about me.” If my father and mother find out that I was with you, there will be a scandal.

Rasputin agreed with me and promised to remain silent. After which he started talking about politics and began to vilify the Duma.

“They don’t have to worry about washing my bones.” The Emperor is upset. Ying okay. Soon I will disperse them and send them to the front. They will know how to wag their tongues. They will already remember me.

- But, Grigory Yefimich, even if you could disperse the Duma, how will you actually disperse it?

- Very simple, my dear. When you become my friend and comrade, you will know everything. And now I’ll say one thing: the queen is a real empress. She has both intelligence and strength. And whatever you want will allow me. Well, he himself is like a little child. Is this the king? He should sit at home in a dressing gown and smell flowers, and not edit. Power is too much for him. But we, God willing, will help him.

I restrained my indignation and, as if nothing had happened, asked if he was so confident in his people.

- How do you know, Grigory Efimitch, what they need from you and what’s on their mind? What if they are up to no good?

Rasputin smiled indulgently.

– Do you want to teach God some sense? And it was not in vain that He sent me to the anointed one to help. I tell you: they can’t live without me. I'm just with them. They start to fight, so I hit the table with my fist and leave the yard. And they run after me to beg, they say, wait, Grigory Efimovich, they say, don’t go, stay, everything will be your way, just don’t leave us. But they love and respect me. Three days ago I talked to myself, asked to appoint someone, and I said, “later and later.” I threatened to leave. I’ll go, I say, to Siberia, and you go to hell. You are turning away from the Lord! Well, your son will die, and for that you will burn in fiery hell! This is the conversation I have with them. But I still have a lot to do. They have a lot of villains there, and everyone whispers to them that Grigory Efimovich is an unkind man who wants to destroy you... It’s all nonsense. And why should I destroy them? They are good people, they pray to God.

“But, Grigory Efimich,” I objected, “the sovereign’s trust is not everything.” You know what they say about you. And not only in Russia. Foreign newspapers don’t praise you either. I think if you really love sovereigns, then you will leave and go to Siberia. You never know. You have many enemies. Anything can happen.

- No, honey. You are saying this out of ignorance. God won't allow that. If He sent me to them, then so be it. As for our and theirs’ idle lies, don’t give a damn about anyone. They chop their own branches.

Rasputin jumped up and nervously walked around the room.

I watched him closely. His appearance became alarming and gloomy. Suddenly he turned around, came up to me and stared at me for a long time.

A chill went through my skin. Rasputin's gaze was of extraordinary power. Without taking his eyes off me, the “elder” lightly stroked my neck, smiled slyly and sweetly and ingratiatingly offered me a drink of wine. I agreed. He went out and returned with a bottle of Madeira, poured it for himself and me, and drank to my health.

- When will you come again? - he asked.

Then young lady G. came in and said that it was time to go to Tsarskoe.

- And I got sick! I completely forgot that the enti are waiting! Well, it doesn’t matter... It’s not the first time for them. Sometimes they call me on the phone, send for me, but I don’t go. And then I’ll fall out of the blue... Well, you’re welcome! They love you even more... Goodbye for now, dear,” he added.

Then he turned to Mlle G. and said, nodding at me:

- And he’s a smart guy, hey, he’s smart. If only they wouldn't confuse him. He will listen to me, okay. Really, girl? So talk some sense into him, let him know. Well, goodbye, honey. Come quickly.

He kissed me and left, and G. and I went down the back stairs again.

– Isn’t it true that Grigory Efimovich feels like home? - said G. - With him you forget worldly sorrows! He has the gift of bringing peace and tranquility into the soul!

I didn't argue. I noticed, however:

“It would be better for Grigory Yefimitch to leave St. Petersburg as soon as possible.”

- Why? – she asked.

- Because sooner or later he will be killed. I am absolutely sure of this and I advise you to try to properly explain to him what danger he is exposing himself to. He must leave.

- No, what are you talking about! - G. cried out in horror. – Nothing like that will happen! The Lord will not allow it! Finally, understand that he is our only support and consolation. If he disappears, everything will perish. The Empress correctly says that as long as he is here, she is calm for her son. And Grigory Yefimitch himself said: “If they kill me, the prince will die too.” There have already been attempts on his life more than once, but only God protects us from him. And now he himself has become more careful, and security is with him day and night. Nothing will happen to him.

We approached G.'s house.

- When will I see you? – asked my companion.

- Call me when you see him.

I wondered with concern what impression our conversation had made on Rasputin. Still, it seems that bloodshed cannot be avoided. The “old man” thinks that he is omnipotent and feels safe. Besides, there’s no point in tempting him with money. By all appearances, he is not a poor man. And if it is true that he, albeit unwittingly, works for Germany, it means that he receives much more than we can offer.

Classes in the page corps took up a lot of time. I returned late, but even then there was no time for rest. Thoughts about Rasputin haunted me. I thought about the degree of his guilt and mentally saw what a colossal conspiracy had been launched against Russia, and yet the “old man” was his soul. Did he know what he was doing? This question tormented me. For hours I recalled everything I knew about him, trying to explain the contradictions of his soul and find excuses for his vileness. And then his debauchery, shamelessness and, most importantly, lack of conscience towards the royal family stood before me.

But little by little, from all this jumble of facts and arguments, the image of Rasputin emerged, quite definite and simple.

A Siberian peasant, ignorant, unprincipled, cynical and greedy, who by chance found himself close to the powers that be. Unlimited influence on the imperial family, the adoration of female fans, constant orgies and dangerous idleness, to which he was not accustomed, destroyed the remnants of conscience in him.

But what kind of people used and led him so skillfully - unknown to him? For it is doubtful that Rasputin understood all this. And he hardly knew who his drivers were. Besides, he never remembered names. He called everyone as he liked. In one of our future conversations with him, hinting at some secret friends, he called them “green.” It seems that he did not even see them, but communicated with them through intermediaries.

– The Greens live in Sweden. Visit them and get to know them.

– So they exist in Russia too?

– No, in Russia they are “greenies”. They are friends both to the “greens” and to us. People are smart.

A few days later, when I was still thinking about Rasputin, Mlle G. reported by telephone that the “old man” was again calling me to the gypsies. Again, citing exams, I refused, but said that if Grigory Efimitch wanted to see each other, I would come to him for tea.

I came to Rasputin the next day. He was all kindness. I reminded him that he had promised to cure me.

“I’ll cure you,” he answered, “I’ll cure you in three days.” Let's drink some tea first, and then go to my office so that we won't be disturbed. I will pray to God and take the pain out of you. Just listen to me, honey, and everything will be fine.

We drank tea, and Rasputin took me for the first time to his study - a small room with canapés, leather armchairs and a large table littered with papers.

The “elder” laid me down on the sofa. Then, looking soulfully into my eyes, he began to move his hand over my chest, head, and neck. He knelt down, put his hands on my forehead and whispered a prayer. Our faces were so close that I only saw his eyes. He stayed like that for a while. Suddenly he jumped up and began making passes over me.

Rasputin's hypnotic power was enormous. I felt like an unknown force was penetrating me and spreading warmth throughout my body. At the same time, numbness set in. I'm numb. I wanted to speak, but my tongue did not obey. Slowly I sank into oblivion, as if I had drunk a sleeping potion. All I saw before me was Rasputin’s burning gaze. Two phosphorescent rays merged into a fiery spot, and the spot came closer and then moved away.

I lay there, unable to scream or move. Only the thought remained free, and I realized that I was gradually finding myself in the power of the hypnotist. And with an effort of will I tried to resist hypnosis. His strength, however, grew, as if surrounding me with a dense shell. The impression of an unequal struggle between two personalities. Still, I realized, he didn’t completely break me. However, I could not move until he himself ordered me to stand up.

Soon I began to distinguish his silhouette, face and eyes. The terrible fiery spot disappeared.

“That’s enough this time, my dear,” he said.

But, although he looked at me intently, by all appearances he did not see everything: he did not notice any resistance to himself. The “elder” smiled with satisfaction, confident that from now on I was in his power.

Suddenly he sharply pulled my hand. I got up and sat down. My head was spinning, my whole body felt weak. With great effort I stood up and took a few steps. The legs were alien and did not obey.

Rasputin watched my every move.

“The grace of the Lord is upon you,” he finally said. “You’ll see, you’ll feel better in no time.”

As he said goodbye, he made me promise to come to him soon. Since then I began to visit Rasputin constantly. The “treatment” continued, and the “old man’s” confidence in the patient grew.

“You, my dear, really are a smart guy,” he declared one day. – You understand everything perfectly. If you want, I will appoint you as minister.

His proposal bothered me. I knew that the “elder” could do anything, and I imagined how they would ridicule and slander me for such patronage. I answered him with a laugh:

“I’ll help you in any way I can, just don’t make me a minister.”

- Why are you laughing? Do you think it's not in my power? Everything is in my power. I turn what I want. I say, to be the minister.

He spoke with such confidence that I was seriously scared. And everyone will be surprised when the newspapers write about such an appointment.

“Please, Grigory Yefimitch, leave it alone.” Well, what kind of minister am I? And why? It's better for us to be secretly friends.

“Maybe you’re right,” he replied. - As you wish.

– You know, not everyone thinks like you. Others come and say: “Do this for me, arrange that for me.” Everyone needs something.

- Well, what about you?

“I’ll send them to the minister or another boss and give them a note with them.” Otherwise I’ll send them straight to Tsarskoe. This is how I distribute positions.

– And the ministers listen?

- Otherwise, no! - Rasputin shouted. - I installed them myself. Why don't they listen to them? They know what’s what... Everyone is afraid of me, every single one,” he said after a pause. “All I need to do is hit the table with my fist.” That’s the only way it should be with you, I know. You don't like my shoe covers! You are all proud, my dear, and your sins have gone away. If you want to please the Lord, humble your pride.

And Rasputin laughed. He got drunk and wanted to confess.

He told me how he humbled “our” pride.

“You see, dove,” he said, smiling strangely, “women are the first proud people.” This is where we need to start. Well, I’ll take all these ladies to the bathhouse. And I tell them: “Now take off your clothes and wash the man.” The one that starts to break down, I have a short conversation with her... And all my pride, my dear, will be taken away as if by hand.

I listened with horror to dirty confessions, the details of which I cannot even convey. He was silent and did not interrupt him. And he talked and drank.

- Why don’t you help yourself? Are you afraid of wine? There is no better drug. It cures everything, and there is no need to run to the pharmacy. The Lord Himself gave us drink to strengthen our souls and bodies. So I am gaining strength in it. By the way, have you heard about Badmaev? Those doctors are just doctors. He brews the medicine himself. And their Botkin and Derevenkov are stupid. Nature gave Badmaevsky herbs. They grow in forests, fields, and mountains. And the Lord raises them, and that is why the power of God is in them.

“Tell me, Grigory Efimitch,” I interjected carefully, “is it true that these herbs are used to feed the sovereign and heir?”

- We know the deal, they’ll drink. She keeps an eye on it herself. And Anyutka looks. They're just afraid that Botkin won't get wind of it. I tell them: if the doctor finds out, the patient will feel worse. So they keep vigil.

– What kind of herbs do you give to the sovereign and heir?

- All sorts, dear, all sorts. I give myself tea of grace. He will calm his heart, and the king will immediately become kind and cheerful. And what kind of king is he? He is a child of God, not a king. Then you will see how we do everything. Grew, ours will take it.

- That is, what does it mean - yours will take it, Grigory Yefimych?

- Look, what a curious guy... Tell him everything... When the time comes, you’ll find out.

Never before had Rasputin spoken to me so openly. For everything that is on the sober mind, the drunk is on the tongue. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to learn about Rasputin’s machinations. I invited him to have another drink with me. We filled our glasses in silence. Rasputin poured it down his throat, and I took a sip. Having emptied a bottle of very strong Madeira, he walked on unsteady legs to the buffet and brought another bottle. I poured him a glass again, pretended to pour it for myself, and continued the questions.

“Do you remember, Grigory Yefimitch, you said just now that you wanted to take me on as your assistant?” I do with all my heart. Just explain your business first. Are you saying changes are coming again? And when? And what kind of changes are these?

Rasputin looked at me sharply, then closed his eyes, thought and said:

– Here’s what: enough war, enough blood, it’s time to stop the carnage. The Germans, I am tea, are also our brothers. What did the Lord say? The Lord said - love your enemy as if you were a brother... That is why the war must be ended. And he himself, they say, no, no. And not at all. Someone is clearly a bad adviser to them. What's the point? I’ll give you an order - they’ll have to listen... It’s still early, not everything is ready yet. Well, when we’re done, we’ll declare Lexandra regent for the young heir. We ourselves will be sent to rest in Livadia. He will be fine there. Tired, sick, let him rest. There on the flowers, and closer to God. You yourself have something to repent of. He will pray for a century, he will not pray for the war to the ent.

And the queen is smart, the second Katka. She already rules everything now. You'll see, the further you go with her, the better it will be. I will drive, he says, all the talkers out of the Duma. That's okay. Let them get the hell out. Otherwise they were planning to throw off God’s anointed one. And we will pick them ourselves! It's high time! And those who oppose me will not be happy either!

Rasputin became more and more animated. Drunk, he didn’t even think about hiding.

“I’m like a hunted animal,” he complained. - Lord nobles are looking for my death. I stood in their way. But the people respect that I teach sovereigns in boots and a caftan. This is the will of God. The Lord gave me strength. I read the secrets in the hearts of others. You, dear, smart, will help me. I'll teach you something... You'll make money from it. And you probably don’t need it. You will probably be richer than the king. Well, then you’ll give it to the poor. Everyone is happy with the profit.

Suddenly a sharp bell rang. Rasputin shuddered. Apparently, he was waiting for someone, but during the conversation he completely forgot about it. Having come to his senses, he seemed afraid that we would be caught together.

He quickly stood up and led me into his office, from which he immediately left. I heard him dragging himself into the hallway, on the way he bumped into a heavy object, dropped something, and swore: his legs couldn’t hold him up, but his tongue was sharp.

Then voices were heard in the dining room. I listened, but they spoke quietly, and I couldn’t understand the words. The dining room was separated from the office by a corridor. I opened the door slightly. There was a crack in the door to the dining room. I saw the “elder” sitting in the same place where he had sat with me minutes earlier. Now there were seven dubious-looking subjects with him. Four have distinctly Semitic faces. Three are blond and surprisingly similar to each other. Rasputin spoke with animation. The visitors wrote something down in little books, talked in low voices and chuckled from time to time. Exactly what conspirators.

Suddenly a hunch flashed through my mind. Aren't these the same Rasputin "greenies"? And the longer I looked, the more convinced I was that I was seeing real spies.

I walked away from the door in disgust. I wanted to get away from here, but there was no other door, I would have been noticed immediately.

What seemed like an eternity passed. Finally Rasputin returned.

He was cheerful and pleased with himself. Feeling unable to overcome my disgust for him, I hastily said goodbye and ran out.

Visiting Rasputin, each time I became more and more convinced that he was the cause of all the troubles of the fatherland and that if he disappeared, his witchcraft power over the royal family would disappear.

It seemed that fate itself had brought me to him to show me his destructive role. Why do I need more? To spare him is not to spare Russia. Is there at least one Russian who does not wish him to die in his soul?

Now the question is not whether to be or not to be, but who should carry out the sentence. We abandoned our initial intention to kill him at his home. The height of the war, preparations for an offensive are underway, the state of mind is heated to the limit. The open murder of Rasputin can be interpreted as an attack against the imperial family. It should be removed so that neither the names nor the circumstances of the case come out.

I hoped that deputies Purishkevich and Maklakov, who cursed the “old man” from the Duma rostrum, would help me with advice, or even deeds. I decided to see them. I thought it was important to attract different elements of society. Dmitry is from the royal family, I am a representative of the nobility, Sukhotin is an officer. I would like to get a Duma member as well.

First of all, I went to Maklakov. The conversation was brief. In a few words I recounted our plans and asked his opinion. Maklakov avoided a direct answer. Distrust and indecision were heard in the question that he asked instead of answering:

– Why did you turn to me?

– Because I went to the Duma and heard your speech.

I was sure that in his heart he approved of me. The command, however, disappointed me. Did you doubt me? Were you afraid of the danger of the matter? Be that as it may, I soon realized that I couldn’t count on him.

Not so with Purishkevich. Before I had time to tell him the essence of the matter, he, with his characteristic ardor and liveliness, promised to help. True, he warned that Rasputin was guarded day and night and it was not easy to get to him.

“They’ve already entered,” I said.

And he described to him his tea parties and conversations with the “elder.” In the end he mentioned Dmitry, Sukhotin and the explanation with Maklakov. Maklakov’s reaction did not surprise him. But he promised to talk to him again and try to involve him in the case.

Purishkevich agreed that Rasputin should be removed without leaving any traces. Dmitry and Sukhotin and I discussed and decided that poison is the surest way to hide the fact of murder.

My house on the Moika River was chosen as the place where the plan was to be executed.

The room I arranged in the basement was best suited.

At first everything in me rebelled: it was unbearable to think that my house would become a trap. No matter who he was, I could not decide to kill the guest.

Friends understood me. After much debate, however, they decided not to change anything. It was necessary to save the homeland at any cost, even at the cost of violence against one’s own conscience.

The fifth person to join the business, on the advice of Purishkevich, was Doctor Lazovert. The plan was this: Rasputin receives potassium cyanide; the dose is sufficient to cause death instantly; I sit with him as with a guest, face to face; the rest are nearby, ready if help is needed.

No matter how things turn out, we promised to remain silent about the participants.

A few days later, Dmitry and Purishkevich left for the front.

While waiting for their return, on the advice of Purishkevich, I again went to Maklakov. A pleasant surprise awaited me: Maklakov sang another song and warmly approved of everything. True, when I invited him to participate personally, he replied that he could not, since in mid-December he would have to leave for Moscow on an extremely important matter. Still, I filled him in on the details of the plan. He listened very carefully... but that’s all.

As I was leaving, he wished me good luck and gave me a rubber weight.

“Take it just in case,” he said, smiling.

Every time I came to Rasputin, I was disgusted with myself. I walked as if I was going to execution, so I began to walk less often.

Shortly before the return of Purishkevich and Dmitry, I nevertheless went to see him again.

He was in excellent spirits.

- Why are you so cheerful? – I asked.

- Yes, I screwed up the business. Now it won't be long to wait. Every dog has his day.

– What are we talking about? – I asked.

“What are we talking about, what are we talking about...” he mimicked. “You were afraid of me and stopped coming to see me.” And I, my dear, know a lot of anti-resistance things. So I won’t tell you if you’re afraid. Everything you are afraid of. If you were braver, I would open everything for you!

I answered that I studied a lot in the page corps and that was the only reason why I began to visit him less often. But it was impossible to fool him on the chaff.

- We know, we know... You’re afraid, and your dad and mom won’t let you in. And your mother and Lizaveta are friends, so what? They have one thing on their mind: to drive me away. But no, you’re being naughty: they won’t listen to them at Tsarskoye. In Tsarskoe they listen to me.

- In Tsarskoye, Grigory Yefimitch, you are completely different. There you only talk about God, that’s why they listen to you there.

- Why, my dear, should I not talk about the Lord? They are pious people, they love the divine... They understand everyone, they forgive everyone and they value me. And there is no point in slandering me. Slander is not slander; they won’t believe it all. That's what I told them. I say they will vilify me. Well then. Christ was also dishonored. He also suffered for the truth... Listen, they listen to everyone, but act according to the dictates of their hearts.

As for himself,” Rasputin continued to pour out, “as soon as he leaves Tsarskoe, he immediately believes all the scoundrels. And now he turns his nose up at me. I came to him: they say, we need to end the massacre, all people are brothers, I say. Either a Frenchman or a German, all the same... But he resisted. The know keeps repeating - “it’s a shame,” he says, to sign peace. Where is the shame when we are talking about saving one’s neighbor? And again, thousands of people will be driven to certain death. Isn't this embarrassing? The empress herself is kind and wise. And what about yourself? There is nothing in it from the autocrat. A blessed child, and that’s all. What am I afraid of? I’m afraid that Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaich will sense something and begin to put a spoke in our wheels. But he, praise the Lord, is far away, and until now his hands are too short to find a hotel. She herself understood the danger and sent him away so as not to interfere.

“And, in my opinion,” I said, “it was a big mistake to remove the Grand Duke from the post of commander in chief.” Russia idolizes him. In difficult times, one cannot deprive the army of a beloved military leader.

- Don't be afraid, darling. If they removed it, it must be so. So it must be, then.

Rasputin stood up and walked up and down the room, muttering something. Suddenly he stopped, jumped up to me and grabbed my hand. His eyes sparkled strangely.

“Come with me to the gypsies,” he asked. “If you go, I’ll tell you everything, everything is in good spirit.”

I agreed, but then the phone rang. Rasputin was summoned to Tsarskoe Selo. The trip to the gypsies was cancelled. Rasputin looked disappointed. I took advantage of the moment and invited him to join us at the Moika the following evening.

The “old man” had long wanted to meet my wife. Thinking that she was in St. Petersburg, and my parents were in Crimea, he accepted the invitation. In fact, Irina was also in Crimea. I, however, hoped that he would agree more readily if he hoped to see her.

A few days later, Dmitry and Purishkevich finally returned from their positions, and it was decided that I would invite Rasputin to come to the Moika on the evening of December 29.

The “elder” agreed on the condition that I would pick him up and then take him back home. He told me to go up the back stairs. He said he would warn the gatekeeper that he would be leaving for a friend’s place at midnight.

With amazement and horror I saw how he himself made the whole matter easier and simpler for us.

Felix Yusupov

I was then alone in St. Petersburg and lived with my brothers-in-law in the palace of Grand Duke Alexander. For almost the entire day of December 29, I was preparing for the exams scheduled for the next day. During the break I went to the Moika to make the necessary orders.

I was going to receive Rasputin in the semi-basement apartment, which I was decorating for that purpose. Arcades divided the basement hall into two parts. The larger one housed a dining room. In the smaller one, the spiral staircase, which I already wrote about, led to my apartment on the mezzanine. Halfway there was an exit to the courtyard. The dining room, with its low vaulted ceiling, received light from two small sidewalk-level windows overlooking the embankment. The walls and floor of the room were made of gray stone. In order not to arouse suspicion in Rasputin by the sight of a bare cellar, it was necessary to decorate the room and give it a residential appearance.

When I arrived, the craftsmen were laying carpets and hanging curtains. Chinese red porcelain vases have already been placed in the niches in the wall. From the storeroom they brought the furniture I had chosen: carved wooden chairs covered with old leather, massive oak armchairs with high backs, tables covered with antique cloth, bone goblets and many beautiful trinkets. To this day I remember in detail the furnishings of the dining room. The supply cabinet, for example, was ebony with inlay and many mirrors, bronze columns, and secret drawers inside. On the cabinet stood a rock crystal crucifix in silver filigree by a remarkable Italian master of the 16th century. The red granite fireplace was topped with gilded bowls, Renaissance majolica plates and ivory figurines. There was a Persian carpet on the floor, and in the corner near the cabinet with mirrors and drawers was a polar bear skin.

Our butler, Grigory Buzhinsky, and my valet Ivan helped arrange the furniture. I told them to prepare tea for six people, buy cakes and cookies and bring wine from the cellar. I said that I expected guests at eleven, and let them sit in their rooms until I called them.

Everything was OK. I went up to my room, where Colonel Vogel was waiting for me for the last check for tomorrow's exams. We were done by six o'clock in the evening. I went to the palace to Grand Duke Alexander to have dinner with the Shuryas. On the way I went to the Kazan Cathedral. I began to pray and forgot about time. Leaving the cathedral, as it seemed to me, very soon, I was surprised to discover that I had been praying for about two hours. A strange feeling of lightness, almost happiness, appeared. I hurried to the palace to my father-in-law. I had a thorough dinner before returning to the Moika.

By eleven, everything was ready in the basement on the Moika. The basement, comfortably furnished and illuminated, no longer seemed like a crypt. A samovar was boiling on the table and there were plates with Rasputin’s favorite delicacies. On the sideboard there is a tray with bottles and glasses. The room is lit by antique lamps with colored glass. The heavy red satin curtains are drawn down. Logs crackle in the fireplace, reflecting flashes on the granite mantel. It seems that you are cut off from the whole world here, and no matter what happens, the thick walls will hide the secret forever.

The call announced the arrival of Dmitry and the others. I led everyone to the dining room. They were silent for some time, examining the place where Rasputin was scheduled to die.

I took out a box of potassium cyanide from the supply and placed it on the table next to the cakes. Doctor Lazovert put on rubber gloves, took several crystals of poison from it, and ground it into powder. Then he removed the tops of the cakes and sprinkled the filling with enough powder, he said, to kill an elephant. There was silence in the room. We watched his actions excitedly. All that remains is to put the poison in the glasses. We decided to put it in at the last moment so that the poison would not evaporate. And also to give everything the appearance of a finished dinner, for I told Rasputin that I usually feast with guests in the basement, and sometimes I study or read alone while my friends go upstairs to smoke in my office. We mixed everything together on the table, pushed the chairs away, and poured tea into the cups. It was agreed that when I went to pick up the “old man,” Dmitry, Sukhotin and Purishkevich would go up to the mezzanine and start the gramophone, choosing more cheerful music. I wanted to keep Rasputin in a pleasant mood and not let him suspect anything.

The preparations are over. I put on my fur coat and pulled a fur hat over my eyes, completely covering my face. The car was waiting in the yard by the porch. The lazovert, disguised as a driver, started the engine. When we arrived at Rasputin’s, I had to argue with the gatekeeper, who did not immediately let me in. As agreed, I walked up the back stairs. There was no light, I walked by touch. I barely found the door to the apartment.

I called.

- Who's there? – the “elder” shouted outside the door. My heart began to beat.

- Grigory Efimitch, it’s me, I’ve come for you.

There was movement behind the door. The chain clinked. The bolt creaked. I felt terrible.

He opened it and I entered.

Pitch darkness. It seemed that someone was watching intently from the next room. I involuntarily raised my collar and pulled my hat even lower over my eyes.

– Why are you hiding? – asked Rasputin.

- Well, there was an agreement that no one should find out.

- And that’s true. So I didn’t say a word to anyone. He even released the secret ones. Well, okay, I'll get dressed right away.

I followed him into the bedroom, lit by one lamp near the icons. Rasputin lit a candle. The bed, as I noticed, was spread out.

That's right, he lay down waiting for me. A fur coat and a beaver hat lay on a chest by the bed. Next to them are felt boots and galoshes.

Rasputin put on a silk shirt embroidered with cornflowers. He girded himself with a crimson cord. The black velvet trousers and boots were brand new. The hair is slicked, the beard is combed with extraordinary care. As he approached, he smelled of cheap soap. It was obvious that by our evening he was trying, preening himself.

- Well, Grigory Efimitch, it’s time for us to go. It's already past midnight.

- And the gypsies? Shall we go to the gypsies?

“I don’t know, maybe,” I answered.

- Do you have anyone today? – he asked with some concern.

I reassured him, promising that he wouldn’t see any unpleasant people, but his mother was in Crimea.

- I don’t love your mother. I know she can't stand me.

Well, it’s clear, Lizaveta’s friend. Both are slandering me and plotting intrigues. The queen herself told me that they are my sworn enemies. Listen, Protopopov was with me this evening, he says, don’t go anywhere. They'll fucking kill you. Grit, the enemies are up to something bad... Pipes! My murderers have not yet been born... Okay, enough babbling... Let's go, shall we...

I took a fur coat from the chest and helped him put it on.

Inexpressible pity for this man suddenly overwhelmed me. The end did not justify such base means. I felt contempt for myself. How could I commit such vileness? How did you decide?

I looked at the victim in horror. The “elder” was trusting and calm. Where is his vaunted clairvoyance? And what’s the point of prophesying and reading in other people’s thoughts if you can’t see the traps for yourself? As if fate itself had blinded him... so that justice could be done...

And suddenly Rasputin’s life appeared before me in all its abomination. And my doubts and remorse were gone. The firm determination to finish what I started returned.

We went out onto a dark staircase. Rasputin closed the door.

The creak of the bolt was heard again. We found ourselves in pitch darkness.

His fingers convulsively grabbed my hand.

“It’s safer to go this way,” whispered the “old man,” dragging me down the steps.

His fingers squeezed my hand painfully. I wanted to scream and break out. My head went blank. I don't remember what he said, what I answered. I wanted only one thing at that moment: to go free as soon as possible, to see the light, to no longer feel this terrible hand in my own.

On the street my panic passed. I regained my composure.

We got into the car and drove off.

I looked around to see if there were any agents. No one. Everywhere is empty.

We took a roundabout route to Moika and drove into the courtyard, driving up to the same porch.

- What is this? - he asked. - What kind of holiday are you having?

- No, my wife has guests, they will leave soon. Let's go to the dining room and have some tea.

We went down. Before he could enter, Rasputin took off his fur coat and began to look around with curiosity. The one with the boxes was especially attractive to him. The “elder” amused himself like a child, opened and closed the doors, looked inside and out.

And for the last time I tried to persuade him to leave St. Petersburg. His refusal sealed his fate. I offered him mine and tea. Alas, he wanted neither one nor the other. “Did you smell anything?” – I thought. Whatever it is, he won't get out of here alive.

We sat down at the table and started talking.

We discussed mutual acquaintances and did not forget Vyrubova. They remembered, of course, Tsarskoye Selo.

“Why, Grigory Efimych,” he asked and, “did Protopopov come to you?” Do you suspect a conspiracy?

- Oh, yes, my dear. He says that my simple speech does not give many people peace. It is not to the taste of the nobles that the cloth snout climbs into the Kalash line. The envious people take them, so they get angry and scare me... But let them scare them, I’m not scared. They can't do anything for me. I'm charmed. They tried to kill me so many times, but the Lord didn’t let me. Whoever raises his hand against me will not be happy with himself.

The words of the “elder” sounded echoingly and terribly where he was about to die. But I was already calm. He spoke, and I thought one thing: make him drink wine and eat cakes.

Finally, having talked through his favorite conversations, Rasputin asked for tea. I quickly poured him a cup and pushed the cookies towards him. Why cookies, not poisoned?..

Only after that did I offer him eclairs with potassium cyanide. He refused at first.

“I don’t want it,” he said, “they’re too sweet.”

However, I took one, then another... I looked in horror. The poison should have taken effect immediately, but, to my amazement, Rasputin continued to talk as if nothing had happened.

Then I offered him our homemade Crimean wines. And again Rasputin refused. As time went. I started to get nervous. Despite the refusal, I poured us some wine. But just as I had just done with the cookies, I also unconsciously took the unpoisoned glasses. Rasputin changed his mind and accepted the glass. He drank with pleasure, licked his lips and asked how much of this wine we had. I was very surprised to learn that the cellars were full of bottles.

“Let’s pour some Madeira,” he said. I wanted to give him another glass, with poison, but he stopped:

- Yes, the same lei.

“That’s impossible, Grigory Yefimitch,” I objected. - Wines are not supposed to be mixed.

- There are few things that are not allowed. Lei, I say...

I had to give in.

Still, as if by accident, I dropped the glass and poured him a poisoned glass of Madeira. Rasputin did not argue anymore.

I stood next to him and watched his every move, expecting that he was about to collapse...

But he drank, smacked, savored the wine like real experts. Nothing changed in his face. At times he raised his hand to his throat, as if he had a spasm in his throat. Suddenly he stood up and took a few steps. When I asked what was wrong with him, he replied:

- Nothing. Tickling in the throat.

I was silent, neither alive nor dead.

“It’s a good Madeira, pour me some more,” he said.

The poison, however, had no effect. The “old man” calmly walked around the room.

I took another glass of poison, poured it and gave it to him.

He drank it. No impression.

The last, third glass remained on the tray.

In desperation, I poured a glass for myself, so as not to let Rasputin go away from the wine.

We sat opposite each other, were silent and drank.

He looked at me. His eyes narrowed slyly. They seemed to say: “You see, your efforts are in vain, you can’t do anything for me.”

Suddenly rage appeared on his face.

I had never seen the “old man” like this before.

He stared at me with a satanic gaze. At that moment I felt such hatred for him that I was ready to rush to strangle him.

We remained silent as before. The silence became ominous. It seemed that the “old man” understood why I brought him here and what I wanted to do with him. It was as if there was a struggle going on between us, silent but terrible. Another moment and I would have given up. Under his heavy gaze, I began to lose my cool. A strange numbness came... My head began to spin...

When I woke up, he was still sitting opposite me, covering his face with his hands. I didn't see his eyes.

I calmed down and offered him some tea.

“Lei,” he said dully. - I’m thirsty.

He raised his head. His eyes were dull. He seemed to avoid looking at me.

While I was pouring tea, he stood up and began pacing back and forth again. Noticing a guitar on a chair, he said:

- Play something funny. I love the way you sing.

At that moment I had no time for singing, much less joyful singing.

“The soul doesn’t lie,” I said.

However, he took the guitar and started playing something lyrical.

He sat down and began to listen. At first he looked carefully, then he lowered his head and closed his eyelids. He seemed to have dozed off.

When I finished my romance, he opened his eyes and looked at me with sadness.

- Sing some more. I like this. Eat with feeling.

As time went. The clock says half past three in the morning... This nightmare has already lasted for two hours. “What will happen,” I thought, “if my nerves give in?”

Those upstairs seemed to be starting to lose patience. The noise overhead intensified. It’s not even an hour, my comrades, they won’t be able to stand it, they’ll come running.

-What else is there? – Rasputin asked, raising his head.

“The guests must be leaving,” I answered. - I'll go see what's the matter.

Upstairs in my office, Dmitry, Sukhotin and Purishkevich, as soon as I entered, rushed towards me with questions.

- Well? Ready? Is it over?

“The poison didn’t work,” I said. All shock was silenced.

- Can't be! – Dmitry cried.

- Elephant dose! Did he swallow everything? – asked the others.

“That’s it,” I said.

We had a quick consultation and decided that we would go into the basement together, rush at Rasputin and strangle him. We began to descend, but then I thought that the idea was unsuccessful. Strangers will come in, Rasputin will be scared, and God knows what this devil is capable of...

It was with difficulty that I convinced my friends to let me act alone.

I took the revolver from Dmitry and went into the basement.

Rasputin was still sitting in the same position. He hung his head and breathed raggedly. I quietly walked up to him and sat down next to him. He didn't react. A few minutes of silence. He raised his head with difficulty and looked at me with an empty gaze.

-Are you feeling unwell? – I asked.

- Yes, my head is heavy and my stomach burns. Come on, pour a little. Maybe it will feel better.

I poured him some Madeira and he drank it in one gulp. And he immediately came to life and became cheerful. He was clearly fully conscious and in good memory. Suddenly he suggested going to the gypsies. I refused, saying it was too late.

“It’s not too late,” he objected. - They are familiar. Sometimes they wait for me until the morning. One day in Tsarskoe I was busy with business... or something, talking about God... Well, I waved to them in a car. The sinful flesh also needs rest... No, you say? The soul is God's, and the flesh is human. That's it! – Rasputin added with a mischievous wink.

And this is said to me by the one to whom I fed a huge dose of the strongest poison! But what especially shocked me was Rasputin’s trust. With all his instincts, he could not sense that he was about to die!

He, a clairvoyant, doesn’t see that I have a revolver behind my back, that I’m about to point it at him!

I automatically turned my head and looked at the crystal crucifix on the stand, then stood up and came closer.

-What are you looking for? – asked Rasputin.

“I like the crucifix,” I answered. - Great job.

“Indeed,” he agreed, “it’s a good thing.” The tea was expensive, it was worth it. How much did you give for it?

- And for me, the cupboard is more beautiful. “He came up, opened the doors and began to look.

“You, Grigory Efimich,” I said, “better look at the crucifix and pray to God.”

Rasputin looked at me in surprise, almost fear. In his eyes I saw a new, unfamiliar expression. There was humility and meekness in them. He came close to me and looked into my face. And it was as if he saw something in him that he himself did not expect. I realized that the decisive moment had come. "God help me!" – I said mentally.

Rasputin still stood in front of me, motionless, hunched over, his eyes fixed on the crucifix. I slowly raised the revolver.

“Where should I aim,” I thought, “at the temple or at the heart?”

A trembling shook me all over. The hand tensed. I aimed for the heart and pulled the trigger. Rasputin screamed and collapsed onto the bearskin.

For a moment I was horrified at how easy it is to kill a person. One of your movements - and what was just living and breathing lies on the floor like a rag doll.

Hearing the shot, friends came running. As they ran, they touched an electrical wire and the light went out. In the darkness, someone ran into me and screamed. I didn’t move from my spot, afraid of stepping on a corpse. The light has finally been restored.

Rasputin was lying on his back. At times his face twitched. His hands cramped. The eyes were closed. There is a red stain on the silk shirt. We bent over the body, examining it.

Several minutes passed, and the “old man” stopped twitching. The eyes did not open. The lazovert stated that the bullet passed through the heart area. There was no doubt: Rasputin was dead. Dmitry and Purishkevich dragged him from the skin to the bare stone floor. We turned off the light and, having locked the basement door, went up to me.

Our hearts were full of hope. We knew for sure: what happened now would save Russia and the dynasty from death and dishonor.

According to the plan, Dmitry, Sukhotin and Lazovert were supposed to pretend that they were taking Rasputin back to his home, in case we were still being followed. Sukhotin will become an “old man”, wearing his fur coat and hat. With two guides, the “elder” Sukhotin will leave in Purishkevich’s open car. They will return to the Moika in Dmitry’s closed motor, pick up the corpse and take it to the Petrovsky Bridge.

Purishkevich and I stayed at the Moika. While they were waiting for their own people, they talked about the future of Russia, forever freed from its evil genius. Could we have foreseen that those whose hands we had untied would, at this exceptionally favorable moment, not want or be able to lift a finger!

During the conversation, a vague uneasiness suddenly appeared in me. An irresistible force led me to the basement of the dead man.

Rasputin lay in the same place where we laid him. I felt my pulse. There is nothing. Dead, deader than ever.

I don’t know why I suddenly grabbed the corpse by the hands and pulled it towards me. He fell on his side and collapsed again.

I stood there for a few more moments and was just about to leave when I noticed that his left eyelid was trembling slightly. I leaned over and took a closer look. Weak convulsions passed through the dead face.

Suddenly his left eye opened... A moment - and it trembled, then his right eyelid lifted. And now both of Rasputin’s green viper eyes stared at me with inexpressible hatred. The blood froze in my veins. My muscles turned to stone. I want to run, call for help - my legs give way, I have a spasm in my throat.

So I froze in tetanus on the granite floor.

And something terrible happened. With a sharp movement, Rasputin jumped to his feet. He looked creepy. His mouth was foaming. He screamed in a bad voice, waved his arms and rushed at me. His fingers dug into my shoulders, trying to reach my throat. The eyes bulged out of their sockets, blood flowed from the mouth.

Rasputin repeated my name quietly and hoarsely.

I cannot describe the horror that gripped me! I tried to free myself from his embrace, but it was like I was in a vice. A fierce struggle ensued between us.

After all, he had already died from poison and a bullet in the heart, but it seemed that satanic forces had revived him in revenge, and something so monstrous and hellish appeared in him that I still can’t remember it without trembling.

At that moment I seemed to understand the essence of Rasputin even better. Satan himself, in the form of a man, had a death grip on me.

With superhuman effort I broke free.

He fell on his face, wheezing. My shoulder strap, torn off during the struggle, remained in his hand. The “elder” froze on the floor. A few moments - and he twitched again. I rushed upstairs to call Purishkevich, who was sitting in my office.

- Let's run! Hurry! Down! – I shouted. - He's still alive!

There was a noise in the basement. I grabbed the rubber weight that Maklakov gave me “just in case,” Purishkevich grabbed the revolver, and we jumped out onto the stairs.

Grunting and growling like a wounded animal, Rasputin quickly crawled up the steps. At the secret exit to the courtyard, he crept up and leaned on the door. I knew it was locked and stood on the top step, holding the weight in my hand.

To my amazement, the door opened and Rasputin disappeared into the darkness! Purishkevich rushed after him. Two shots were heard in the yard. Just don't miss it! I flew down the main staircase like a whirlwind and rushed along the embankment to intercept Rasputin at the gate if Purishkevich missed. There were three exits from the yard. The middle gate is not locked. Through the fence I saw that Rasputin was running towards them.

A third shot rang out, a fourth... Rasputin swayed and fell into the snow.

Purishkevich ran up, stood by the body for a few moments, was convinced that this time it was all over, and quickly went to the house.

I called out to him, but he didn’t hear.

There was not a soul on the embankment or nearby streets. Probably no one heard the shots. Having calmed down on this score, I entered the yard and approached the snowdrift, behind which Rasputin lay. The “old man” no longer showed signs of life.

Then two of my servants jumped out of the house, and a policeman appeared from the embankment. All three ran towards the shots.

I hurried to meet the policeman and called him, turning so that his back was to the snowdrift.

“Ah, your Excellency,” he said, recognizing me, “I heard shots.” What happened?

“No, no, nothing happened,” I assured. - Empty pampering. I had a party this evening. One got drunk and started shooting from a revolver. He woke people up. If someone asks, say that it’s nothing, that everything is fine.

As I spoke, I led him to the gate. Then he returned to the corpse, where both footmen stood. Rasputin lay still there, curled up, however, somehow differently.

“God,” I thought, “is he really still alive?”

It was terrible to imagine that he would get back to his feet. I ran to the house and called Purishkevich. But he disappeared. I felt bad, my legs didn’t obey me, Rasputin’s hoarse voice sounded in my ears, repeating my name. I staggered to the washroom and drank a glass of water. Then Purishkevich entered.

- Oh, there you are! And I'm running, looking for you! - he exclaimed.

I saw double. I swayed. Purishkevich supported me and took me to the office. As soon as we entered, the valet came to say that the policeman who had appeared minutes earlier had appeared again. The local police station heard the shots and sent him to find out what was going on. The police bailiff was not satisfied with the explanation. He demanded to know the details.

Seeing the policeman, Purishkevich said to him, minting the words:

– Have you heard about Rasputin? About the one who decided to destroy the tsar, and the fatherland, and your brothers soldiers, who sold us to Germany? Did you hear me ask?

The quarterly, not understanding what they wanted from him, was silent and blinked his eyes.

- Do you know who I am? – Purishkevich continued. – I am Vladimir Mitrofanovich Purishkevich, deputy of the State Duma. Yes, they shot and killed Rasputin. And you, if you love the Tsar and the Fatherland, will remain silent.

His words stunned me. He said them so quickly that I didn’t have time to stop him. In a state of extreme excitement, he himself did not remember what he said.

“You did the right thing,” the policeman finally said. “I will remain silent, but if they demand an oath, I will speak.” Lying is a sin.

With these words, shocked, he left.

Purishkevich ran after him.

At that moment the valet came to say that Rasputin’s body had been carried to the stairs. I still felt bad. My head was spinning, my legs were shaking. I stood up with difficulty, mechanically took the rubber weight and left the office.

Coming down the stairs, I saw Rasputin’s body at the bottom step. It looked like a bloody mess. A lamp shone from above, and the disfigured face was clearly visible. The sight is disgusting.

I wanted to close my eyes, run away, forget the nightmare, even for a moment. However, I was drawn to the dead man like a magnet. Everything was confused in my head. I suddenly went completely crazy. He ran up and began to frantically hit him with the weight. At that moment I did not remember either God's law or man's.

Purishkevich later said that he had never seen a more terrible scene in his life. When, with the help of Ivan, he pulled me away from the corpse, I lost consciousness.

Meanwhile, Dmitry, Sukhotin and Lazovert went to pick up the corpse in a closed car.

When Purishkevich told them what happened, they decided to leave me alone and go without me. They wrapped the corpse in canvas, loaded it into a car and drove off to Petrovsky Bridge. They threw the body from the bridge into the river.

When I woke up, it seemed that I either got up after an illness, or after a thunderstorm, I was breathing fresh air and could not get enough. It's like I'm resurrected.

The valet Ivan and I removed all evidence and traces of blood.

Having put the apartment in order, I went out into the yard. I had to think about something else: come up with an explanation for the shots. I decided to say that the tipsy guest killed the guard dog on a whim.

I called two footmen who were running out to hear the shots, and told them everything as it was. They listened and promised to remain silent.

At five in the morning I left the Moika for the palace of Grand Duke Alexander.

The thought that the first step towards saving the fatherland had been taken filled me with courage and hope.

Entering my room, I saw my brother-in-law Fyodor, who had not slept at night and was anxiously awaiting my return.

“Finally, glory to You, Lord,” he said. - Well?

“Rasputin was killed,” I answered, “but I can’t tell you now, I’m falling off my feet from fatigue.”

Anticipating that interrogations and searches would begin tomorrow, or worse, and that I would need strength, I lay down and fell asleep.”

And then there really were interrogations, searches, accusations and reproaches. Throughout St. Petersburg, the news of the murder of the hated old man spread at the speed of light. The Empress was beside herself with grief and anger. She insisted that the conspirators be shot immediately, but since Grand Duke Dmitry Romanov was among them, the punishment was limited to exile.

Society rejoiced in every possible way over the death of the evil genius of the dynasty. After the investigation, Felix Yusupov was sent into exile to the Rakitnoye estate.

However, the events of the new year, 1917, developed at incredible speed. In February there was a revolution, then the monarchy fell. The country plunged deeper and deeper into darkness.

Very soon Emperor Nicholas will abdicate, the Bolsheviks will come to power, and Prince Yusupov, who miraculously survived, will leave Russia forever. He will live his whole life in Paris on Rue Pierre Guerin, write two books, and win a lawsuit against the Hollywood studio MGM. In 1932, the film “Rasputin and the Empress” was released, where it was alleged that Prince Yusupov’s wife was Rasputin’s mistress. Yusupov managed to prove in court that such insinuations were slander. It was after this incident that it became common in Hollywood to print a notice at the beginning of films stating that all events shown on screen are fiction and any resemblance to real persons is not intentional.

Prince Felix Feliksovich and Princess Irina Alexandrovna Yusupov

In one of the last and probably only interviews with Felix Yusupov, the prince admits that he never regretted his action. Whether he was a patriot of Russia or a bloodthirsty killer of the “elder of the people”, about whom many films and programs are still being made, is up to each of you to decide...

In 1967, at the age of eighty, the last of the Yusupov family died in Paris. He was buried in the Russian cemetery in Sainte-Genevieve-des-Bois.

His wife Irina Yusupova died in 1970 and was buried next to him.

Today, the direct descendants of the Yusupov family are Yusupov’s granddaughter, Ksenia Sfiri (nee Sheremeteva) and her daughter Tatyana Sfiri.

The article was prepared on the basis of the personal memoirs of Prince Yusupov.

Georgy Blyumin, Doctor of Technical Sciences, Professor of Cultural Studies, President of the Yusupovo-Princely Charitable Foundation (Moscow)

Source of information: The Curse of the Yusupov Family, Traveler magazine No.3(23), 2000.

During the era of the fall of the caliphate, the direct ancestors of the Russian princes Yusupov were rulers in Damascus, Antioch, Iraq, Persia, Egypt... Some of them were buried in Mecca, on Mount Hira, where Muhammad discovered the text of the Koran; in the Kaaba itself, sacred to Muslims, or near it - these are Baba-Tukles and his two sons, Abbas and Abdurahman. Sultan Termes, the third son of Baba-Tukles (16th tribe from Abubekir ben Rayok), driven by hostile circumstances, moved north from Arabia, to the shores of the Azov and Caspian Seas, dragging with him many tribes of Muslims loyal to him. The Nogai Horde, which emerged as a state between the Volga and the Urals, was a consequence of the resettlement of the Sultan of Termes.

Edigei's great-grandson was called Musa-Murza (Prince Moses, in Russian) and, according to custom, had five wives. The first, beloved, was called Kondaza. From her Yusuf was born - the founder of the Yusupov family. For twenty years Yusuf Murza was friends with Ivan the Terrible himself, the Russian Tsar. The descendant of the emirs considered it necessary to make friends and become related to their Muslim neighbors, “splinters” of the Mongol-Tatar invasion of Rus'. Yusuf's four daughters became the wives of the kings of Crimea, Astrakhan, Kazan and Siberia. The latter was the same Kuchum whom Ermak Timofeevich conquered at the head of his Don Cossacks.

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The beauty's story does not end there. Ivan the Terrible installed Shikh-alley as king in Kazan. But he was soon forced to flee to Moscow, where he married... Suyumbek. The daughter of Yusuf Murza is getting married for the third time. Shikh-alei takes possession of the city of Kasimov (Gorodets) and the title of Tsar of Kasimov. He moves to Kasimov with his beautiful wife.

And Utemish-Girey, the son of Suyumbeki, was baptized in Moscow. Shikh-alei died in Kasimov and was buried in 1567 in the local tomb. The beautiful queen died before him, in 1557, having lived only 37 years. Probably, her grave is also located in Kasimov. In any case, her descendant, the Russian prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov Jr., thinks so when he writes in his book: “Scarlet rose hips and milk cherry trees shower the forgotten tomb with flowers!”

In Rus', the charm of Suyumbeki’s charming image lived on for a very long time. The Russians called her a sorceress. And Russian poets made her image one of the most poetic in world literature. I would attribute the presence of a six-rayed star in the princely coat of arms of the Yusupovs to the image of the beautiful Suyumbeki.

The poet Kheraskov, the author of the famous "Rossiyada", made the Kazan queen the main character of his poem, one of the best in the Russian 18th century. At the beginning of the 19th century, plays by Gruzintsov “The Conquered Kazan” and Glinka “Sumbek, or the Fall of Kazan” were performed on stages in Moscow and St. Petersburg. Finally, in 1832, the stage saw Count Kutaisov's ballet "Sumbek, or the Conquest of the Kazan Kingdom." Pushkin was at a performance in which the role of Suyumbeki was performed by the ballerina Istomina, whom he praised in Onegin.

It was during the reign of Fyodor Alekseevich. The great-grandson of Yusuf-Murza, named Abdul-Murza, received Patriarch Joachim in Romanov. Historian M.I. Pylyaev recalled: “Once upon a time, the brilliant nobleman Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov was the chamber cadet on duty during dinner at Catherine the Great’s. A goose was served on the table.

Do you, prince, know how to cut a goose? - Ekaterina asked Yusupov.

Oh, the goose must be very mindful of my last name! - answered the prince. - My ancestor ate one on Good Friday and for that he was deprived of several thousand peasants granted to him.

“I would have taken away his entire estate, because it was given to him on the condition that he would not eat fast food on fasting days,” the empress remarked jokingly about this story.”

I will appear to you; I'll see this palace

Where is the architect's compass, palette and chisel?

Your learned whim was obeyed

And the inspired ones competed in magic.

At Kharitonya's alley

Cart in front of the house at the gate

Has stopped...

However, let us turn to further links of the family and the fate that accompanies them. Boris Nikolaevich, chamberlain, son of N.B. Yusupov, lived mainly in St. Petersburg and also left his only heir - Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov Jr. He was a talented musician and writer, vice-director of the St. Petersburg Public Library, married to Duchess Tatyana Alexandrovna de Ribopierre. Prince Nikolai Borisovich Jr. ended the male line of the ancient family.

The only heiress - the beauty and richest bride of Russia Zinaida Nikolaevna Princess Yusupova, whose portraits were painted by the best artists of that time Serov and Makovsky - married the great-great-grandson of M.I. Kutuzov and the grandson of the Prussian king, Russian Count Felix Feliksovich Sumarokov-Elston, lieutenant general and Governor of Moscow. And Emperor Alexander III, satisfying the request of Prince N.B. Yusupov Jr., so that the famous surname would not be suppressed, allows Count Sumarokov-Elston to also be called Prince Yusupov. This title was supposed to pass to the eldest of the sons.

In a happy marriage, two sons were born and raised, both graduated from Oxford University. The eldest was called Prince Nikolai Feliksovich Yusupov (1883-1908). Parents had already begun to forget about the terrible prediction when, on the eve of his 26th birthday, Nikolai Feliksovich fell in love with a woman whose husband challenged him to a duel and... killed him. The duel took place in St. Petersburg on Krestovsky Island in June 1908, on the estate of the Beloselsky-Belozersky princes. Nikolai fired into the air both times... “The body was placed in the chapel,” writes the younger brother Felix, to whom the title of Prince Yusupov passed. Prince Nikolai Feliksovich was buried in Arkhangelskoye near Moscow.

Gratitude
Yusupova Diana 13.01.2006 03:57:11

Hello Georgy. Thank you very much for the detailed information about the Yusupov family. I am 21 years old, Yusupova on my father’s side, now I live in Moscow, I want to enter the Institute of Architecture. This year I visited the Yusupov Palace in St. Petersburg on the river for the first time. Moika. An irresistible desire arose to learn as much as possible about this mysterious family that is so close to art. I am very interested in your organization “Yusupov-Princely Charitable Foundation”, be so kind as to not let a person die of intellectual hunger. Help in any way you can... internet links, articles, books, libraries, etc. I will be very grateful to you, with respect, Diana Tamerlanovna.

Modern encyclopedia

Russian princes (from the 16th century) from the Nogai Murza family, large landowners. The most famous are:..1) Grigory Dmitrievich (1676 1730), participant in the Azov campaigns and the Northern War, general in chief (1730), headed the Military Collegium (1727 30);..2)… … Big Encyclopedic Dictionary

The OGDR (III, p. 2) records that the Russian counts descend from the Nogai Murza Yusuf, the son of Musa of Nogai, who entered Russian service no later than the 70s of the 16th century, for in 1580 Yusupov Il Murza was already commanding together with Boris Godunov... ... Russian surnames

YUSUPOV, princes (from the 16th century) from the Nogai Murza family, large landowners. The most famous are: Grigory Dmitrievich (1676-1730), participant in the Azov campaigns of 1695-96 and the Northern War of 1700-21, general in chief (1730), headed the Military Collegium (1727-30); ... Russian history

Or Yusupovo Princes, the extinct Russian princely family. The father of the commander, who was in the service of Tamerlane, and the sovereign Nogai prince (d. in the early 15th century) Edigei Mangit in the third generation was born Musa Murza, whose son Yusuf Murza (d. 1556) was... ... Encyclopedia of Brockhaus and Efron

Yusupovs- YUSUPOVS, Russian princes (from the 16th century) from a family of large Nogai landowners. The most famous are: Grigory Dmitrievich (1676-1730), participant in the Azov campaigns and the Northern War, general in chief (1730), headed the Military Collegium (1727-30); Nikolai... ... Illustrated Encyclopedic Dictionary

Russian princes (from the 16th century) from the Nogai Murza family, large landowners. The most famous are: Grigory Dmitrievich (1676-1730), participant in the Azov campaigns and the Northern War, general in chief (1730), headed the Military Collegium (1727-30); Nikolai... ... encyclopedic Dictionary

The family of the Yusupov princes dates back to the Nogai ruler Musa Murza. One of the sons of the latter, Yusuf, was the father of the Kazan queen Syuyunbeki (Sumbeki) and at first was on friendly terms with Russia, but he quarreled over the captivity of his daughter... Large biographical encyclopedia

Princely family in Russia 16th - early 20th centuries. The ancestor of the Nogai prince Yusuf (died 1555). His sons lived in Russia from 1563; The most famous statesmen are: Grigory Dmitrievich Yu. (1676 1730), senator from 1726, general chief (1730) ... Great Soviet Encyclopedia

Or the Yusupovo Princely family, the extinct Russian princely family. From the military leader who was in the service of Tamerlane, and the sovereign Nogai prince (died at the beginning of the 15th century) Edigei Mangit, Musa Murza was born in the third generation, whose son Yusuf Murza (died in 1556 ... Encyclopedic Dictionary F.A. Brockhaus and I.A. Efron

Books

Yusupov. An Incredible Story, Sarah Blake. The ancient Yusupov dynasty, their great deeds and achievements left an indelible mark on world history. The Yusupov princes were richer than the Russian Tsar in the 20th century, and in terms of nobility they were not inferior...
Yusupov. An Incredible Story, Sarah Blake. This married couple in Russian history is remembered as one of the most beautiful, richest and most scandalous. There was a lot of talk about them, almost every action they took was subject to...