The well-known slanderer of the elder Grigory Rasputin and the holy Tsar-martyr, writer-false historian Valentin Pikul, finishing his novel “Evil Spirits”, wrote “According to V.I. Lenin’s definition, “the counter-revolutionary era (1907-1914) revealed the whole essence of the tsarist monarchy, brought it to the “last line”, revealed all its rottenness, vileness, all the cynicism and depravity of the royal gang with the monstrous Rasputin at its head...” That’s exactly what I wrote about!”
Oh, how the slanderer Pikul tried to please the then communist government. Why! After all, against the backdrop of the “royal lawlessness” described in the book, she looked like just a lamb! But the famous spiteful critic did not take something into account. The authorities turned out to be not as vile as the writer himself. By 1979, by the time the abridged version of Pikul’s novel was published in the magazine “Our Contemporary,” something had changed in the communist government. It is no coincidence that after the publication, L.I. Brezhnev’s inner circle fell into confusion. Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee M.V. Zimyanin even called the presumptuous writer “on the carpet.”
Then, at the All-Union Ideological Conference, M.A. Suslov, a member of the CPSU Politburo and the main ideologist of the USSR, spoke critically of Pikul. And after that in the newspaper " Literary Russia“A devastating article appeared by a senior researcher at the USSR Academy of Sciences, Candidate of Historical Sciences I.M. Pushkareva, directed against the novel in “The Last Line” (author’s title “Evil Spirit”). The learned historian Pushkareva directly stated Valentin Pikul’s poor knowledge of history and noted that “the literature that was “on the table” of the author of the novel (judging by the list that he attached to the manuscript) is small... the novel... is nothing more than a simple retelling ... the writings of white emigrants - the anti-Soviet B. Almazov, the monarchist Purishkevich, the adventurer A. Simanovich, etc.”
The same was stated in the editorial conclusion signed by the head of the editorial office fiction E.N. Gabis and senior editor L.A. Plotnikova: “V. Pikul’s manuscript cannot be published. It cannot be considered a Soviet historical novel...”
So, the end of the 1970s. The era of stagnation. And the communist government is nevertheless revising its views on history. And therefore, Pushkareva, in Lenizdat’s editorial conclusion on Pikul’s manuscript, writes quite patriotically: “The manuscript of V. Pikul’s novel “Evil Spirit” cannot be accepted for publication, because ... it is a detailed argument for the notorious thesis: the people have the kind of rulers they deserve. And this is insulting to a great people, to great country…»
When Lenizdat terminated the contract, Pikul transferred his manuscript to “Our Contemporary” and the novel “Evil Spirit,” although with large cuts, and was still published under the title “At the Last Line.” The famous critic Valentin Oskotsky responded to the publication in “Our Contemporary”: “The novel clearly reflected the non-historicity of the author’s view, which replaced the social-class approach to the events of the pre-revolutionary period with the idea of the self-destruction of tsarism.”
Communist? Yes. But that’s not what’s important. The important thing is that all critics agree on one thing - Pikul’s novel is not historical. Distortion of history and (according to Pushkareva) “an insult to a great people, a great country”—these are the reasons why Pikul’s work was not accepted by Soviet censorship.
For the same reasons, a meeting of the secretariat of the board of the RSFSR SP determined the publication of the novel in the magazine “Our Contemporary” as erroneous. Valentin Savvich, of course, fell into depression. In one of his letters he wrote: “I live in stress. They stopped printing me. I don’t know how to live. I didn't write any worse. I just don't like you Soviet power…»
But it was not only the Soviet authorities who did not like the zealous communist Pikul. Anti-communists did not like him either. Thus, the son of Tsarist Prime Minister P.A. Stolypin, Arkady Stolypin, wrote an article about the novel with the title “Crumbs of truth in a barrel of lies” (first published in the foreign magazine “Posev” No. 8, 1980). In it, he stated: “The book contains many passages that are not only incorrect, but also low-grade and slanderous, for which in a rule-of-law state the author would be responsible not to critics, but to the court.”
Valentin Pikul did not like his fellow writers either. For example, prose writer V. Kurbatov wrote to V. Astafiev after the publication of the novel “At the Last Line” in “Our Sovremennik”: “Yesterday I finished reading Pikulev’s “Rasputin” and I think with anger that the magazine has very dirty itself with this publication, because it is so “Rasputin “Literature has not yet been seen in Russia even in the most silent and shameful times. AND Russian word There has never been such neglect, and, of course, Russian history has never been exposed to such disgrace... Now they seem to write more neatly in the restrooms.” And Yuri Nagibin, as a sign of protest after the publication of the novel, even resigned from the editorial board of the magazine “Our Contemporary”.
But different times have come. The so-called perestroika struck (before nightfall). Conservative patriotic communists were replaced by liberal communists, Westerners who did not care about historical Russia. Censorship weakened and since 1989, Valentin Pikul’s novel began to be published in various publishing houses, exposing Russian history, according to Kurbatov’s definition, “to shame.” It’s unfortunate to talk about this, but the current chairman of the Union of Writers of Russia, V.N. Ganichev, personally wrote a preface to one of the books. And in 1991, he published Pikul’s novel “Evil Spirits” in his “Roman-Gazeta” with a circulation of more than three million. Thus began the large-scale replication of historical lies.
But we must pay tribute to the extreme interest of our people in history. Especially during the perestroika years. And especially to the novels of Valentin Pikul, which were read by millions of readers. To be fair, we note that they were written really talentedly. Critics and readers agree that Pikul’s novels are captivating with their plots and read with great interest. Maybe it is so... Maybe the drunkenness and debauchery of the Kings and Queens are really interesting for those who are trying to justify themselves. Probably for millions Soviet people, "gray scoops", it was important to understand that great person as vile and vile as “every man”? At one time, Alexander Pushkin wrote about such “interest” as follows: “The crowd greedily reads confessions and notes, because in their meanness they rejoice at the humiliation of the high, the weaknesses of the mighty. At the discovery of any abomination, she is delighted. He is small like us, he is vile like us! You are lying, scoundrels: he is both small and vile - not like you - otherwise! ... It is not difficult to despise the judgment of people; it is impossible to despise your own court.”
It can be assumed that Pikul lied about the abomination of the great ones intentionally. After all, he knew, for example, about the positive historical view of Grigory Rasputin. L.N. Voskresenskaya, who knew Valentin Savvich well, recalled: “What kind of “evil spirit” is this? This, in his /Pikul/ opinion, was Rasputin. Here I completely disagreed with him. And although he personally showed me the documents on which he relied in his book, that Rasputin was a libertine, I still told him that this was not true. Then someone, as if to spite him, gave me the day before a small book by Nikolai Kozlov about Rasputin. And in it the author wondered: how could Rasputin be a libertine if the Holy Couple chose him? And he answered that the slander was provoked by the Freemasons. And Rasputin for them was only a small pawn, since the goal was to compromise the Tsar and His Family... This book by Kozlov contained memories of Rasputin’s meetings with priests, elders, and even with the archbishop. Such spiritual meetings, such conversations and suddenly - debauchery? There was no way this could have happened. Well, it didn't add up. And I immediately thought: “Oh, what enemies our Tsar had - they went through Rasputin.” And I told Pikul all this then.”
In our time, the replication of Valentin Pikul’s historical lies continues. But it should be understood that his works for Orthodox Christians are blasphemous works. Lies about the Orthodox Russian Tsars and Queens, lies about the Orthodox Russian monarchy, slander against the holy Martyr Tsar and the person closest to him among the people - the man of God Grigory Rasputin, this cannot be called anything other than blasphemy. And therefore it is very regrettable when Orthodox Christians refer to Pikul’s books when defending their point of view (in particular) on Grigory Rasputin. Although, of course, commemorating Pikul’s works is inappropriate not only for the Orthodox, but also for everyone who tries to defend their views on history with references to him. In conclusion, I would like to once again recall the words of Arkady Stolypin that in Pikul’s work there are “many passages that are not only incorrect, but also base and slanderous, for which in a rule-of-law state the author would be responsible not to critics, but to the court.”
In memory of my grandmother, the Pskov peasant woman Vasilisa Minaevna Karenina, who throughout her entire life long life I lived not for myself, but for people - I dedicate it.
which could be an epilogue
The old Russian history was ending and a new one was beginning. Creeping through the alleys with their wings, the loudly hooting owls of reaction darted through their caves... The first to disappear somewhere was the overly perceptive Matilda Kshesinskaya, a unique prima weighing 2 pounds and 36 pounds (the fluff of the Russian stage!); a brutal crowd of deserters was already destroying her palace, smashing into smithereens the fabulous gardens of Babylon, where overseas birds sang in the captivating bushes. The ubiquitous newsboys stole notebook ballerinas, and the Russian man in the street could now find out how this amazing woman’s daily budget worked out:
For a hat – 115 rubles.
A person's tip is 7 kopecks.
For a suit – 600 rubles.
Boric acid – 15 kopecks.
Vovochka as a gift - 3 kopecks.
The imperial couple were temporarily kept under arrest in Tsarskoe Selo; at workers' rallies there were already calls to execute "Nikolashka the Bloody", and from England they promised to send a cruiser for the Romanovs, and Kerensky expressed a desire to personally carry out royal family to Murmansk. Under the windows of the palace the students sang:
Alice needs to go back
Address for letters – Hesse – Darmstadt,
Frau Alice rides "nach Rhine"
Frau Alice – aufwiederzein!
Who would believe that just recently they were arguing:
– We will call the monastery over the grave of the unforgettable martyr: Rasputin! - stated the empress.
“Dear Alix,” the husband answered respectfully, “but such a name will be misinterpreted by the people, because the surname sounds obscene.” It is better to call the monastery Grigorievskaya.
- No, Rasputinskaya! - the queen insisted. – There are hundreds of thousands of Grigorievs in Rus', but there is only one Rasputin...
They made peace on the fact that the monastery would be called Tsarskoselsko-Rasputinsky; In front of the architect Zverev, the Empress revealed the “ideological” plan of the future temple: “Gregory was killed in damned Petersburg, and therefore you will turn the Rasputin Monastery towards the capital as a blank wall without a single window. Turn the facade of the monastery, bright and joyful, towards my palace...” On March 21, 1917, precisely on Rasputin’s birthday, they were going to found the monastery. But in February, ahead of the tsar’s schedule, the revolution broke out, and it seemed that Grishka’s long-standing threat to the tsars had come true:
“That's it! I won’t exist, and you won’t exist either.” It is true that after the assassination of Rasputin, the Tsar lasted only 74 days on the throne. When an army is defeated, it buries its banners so that they do not fall to the winner. Rasputin lay in the ground, like the banner of a fallen monarchy, and no one knew where his grave was. The Romanovs hid the place of his burial...
Staff Captain Klimov, who served on the anti-aircraft batteries of Tsarskoye Selo, once walked along the outskirts of the parks; By chance he wandered to stacks of boards and bricks, an unfinished chapel lay frozen in the snow. The officer illuminated its arches with a flashlight and noticed a blackened hole under the altar. Having squeezed into its recess, he found himself in the dungeon of the chapel. There stood a coffin - large and black, almost square; there was a hole in the lid, like a ship's porthole. The staff captain directed the flashlight beam directly into this hole, and then Rasputin himself looked at him from the depths of oblivion, eerie and ghostly...
Klimov appeared at the Council of Soldiers' Deputies.
“There are a lot of fools in Rus',” he said. – Aren’t there already enough experiments on Russian psychology? Can we guarantee that the obscurantists will not find out where Grishka lies, as I did? We must stop all pilgrimages of the Rasputinites from the beginning...
Bolshevik G.V. Elin, a soldier of the armored car division (soon the first chief of the armored forces of the young Soviet Republic), took up this matter. Covered in black leather, creaking angrily, he decided to put Rasputin to death - execution after death!
Today security duty royal family there was Lieutenant Kiselev; in the kitchen he was handed a lunch menu for “Romanov citizens.”
“Chowder soup,” Kiselyov read, marching along long corridors, “smelt risotto pies and cutlets, vegetable chops, porridge and currant pancakes... Well, not bad!”
The doors leading to the royal chambers opened.
“Citizen Emperor,” said the lieutenant, handing over the menu, “allow me to draw your highest attention...
Nicholas II put aside the tabloid Blue Magazine (in which only his ministers were presented against the background prison bars, and the heads of others were wrapped in ropes) and answered the lieutenant dimly:
– Don’t you find it difficult to use the awkward combination of the words “citizen” and “emperor”? Why don't you call me simpler...
He wanted to advise that they address him by his first name and patronymic, but Lieutenant Kiselev understood the hint differently.
– Your Majesty,- he whispered, looking towards the door, - the soldiers of the garrison became aware of Rasputin’s grave, now they are holding a meeting, deciding what to do with his ashes...
The Empress, all in keen attention, quickly spoke with her husband in English, then suddenly, without even feeling pain, she tore off a precious ring from her finger, a gift from the British Queen Victoria, and almost forcibly put it on the lieutenant’s little finger.
“I beg you,” she muttered, “you will get whatever you want, just save me!” God will punish us for this crime...
The empress's condition "was truly terrible, and even more terrible - the nervous twitching of her face and her entire body during a conversation with Kiselyov, which ended in a strong hysterical attack." The lieutenant reached the chapel when the soldiers were already working with spades, angrily opening the stone floor to get to the coffin. Kiselev began to protest:
“Are there really no believers in God among you?”
There were also such among the soldiers of the revolution.
“We believe in God,” they said. - But what does Grishka have to do with it? We are not robbing a cemetery to make money. But we don’t want to walk on the ground in which this bastard lies, and that’s all!
Kiselyov rushed to the office phone, calling the Tauride Palace, where the Provisional Government was meeting. Commissar Voitinsky was on the other end of the line:
- Thank you! I will report to Minister of Justice Kerensky...
And the soldiers were already carrying Rasputin’s coffin through the streets. Among the local inhabitants, who came running from everywhere, wandered “material evidence” taken from the grave. It was the Gospel in expensive morocco and a modest icon tied with a silk bow, like a box of chocolates for a name day. From the underside of the image, with a chemical pencil, the Empress wrote her name with the names of her daughters; Vyrubova signed below; around the list of names the words are placed in a frame: YOURS – SAVE – US – AND HAVE MERCY. The rally began again. The speakers climbed onto the lid of the coffin, as if onto a podium, and talked about what a terrible animal power lies here, trampled by them, but now they, citizens of free Russia, boldly trample on this evil spirit that will never rise...
And the ministers conferred in the Tauride Palace.
- This is unthinkable! – Rodzianko snorted. – If the workers of the capital find out that the soldiers have dragged Rasputin, unwanted excesses may occur. Alexander Fedorych, what is your opinion?
“It is necessary,” answered Kerensky, “to stop the demonstration with the corpse on Zabalkansky Avenue.” I propose: take the coffin by force and secretly bury it in the cemetery of the Novodevichy Convent...
In the evening, near the Tsarskoye Selo station, G.V. Elin stopped a truck hurrying to Petrograd, the soldiers hoisted Rasputin into the back of the car - and off they went, just hold on to your hats!
“That’s what I didn’t drive,” the driver admitted. – And Chinese furniture, and Brazilian cocoa, and even Christmas decorations, but to carry a dead man... and even Rasputin! – this has never happened to me before. By the way, where do you guys go?
- We don’t even know ourselves. Where are you going, my dear?
Valentin Pikul
Devilry
I dedicate this to the memory of my grandmother, the Pskov peasant woman Vasilisa Minaevna Karenina, who lived her entire long life not for herself, but for people.
which could be an epilogue
The old Russian history was ending and a new one was beginning. Creeping through the alleys with their wings, the loudly hooting owls of reaction darted through their caves... The first to disappear somewhere was the overly perceptive Matilda Kshesinskaya, a unique prima weighing 2 pounds and 36 pounds (the fluff of the Russian stage!); a brutal crowd of deserters was already destroying her palace, smashing into smithereens the fabulous gardens of Babylon, where overseas birds sang in the captivating bushes. The ubiquitous newspaper men stole the ballerina’s notebook, and the Russian man in the street could now find out how this amazing woman’s daily budget worked out:
For a hat – 115 rubles.
A person's tip is 7 kopecks.
For a suit – 600 rubles.
Boric acid – 15 kopecks.
Vovochka as a gift - 3 kopecks.
The imperial couple were temporarily kept under arrest in Tsarskoe Selo; At workers’ rallies, there were already calls to execute “Nikolashka the Bloody,” and from England they promised to send a cruiser for the Romanovs, and Kerensky expressed a desire to personally escort the royal family to Murmansk. Under the windows of the palace the students sang:
Alice needs to go back
Address for letters – Hesse – Darmstadt,
Frau Alice rides "nach Rhine"
Frau Alice – aufwiederzein!
Who would believe that just recently they were arguing:
– We will call the monastery over the grave of the unforgettable martyr: Rasputin! - stated the empress.
“Dear Alix,” the husband answered respectfully, “but such a name will be misinterpreted by the people, because the surname sounds obscene.” It is better to call the monastery Grigorievskaya.
- No, Rasputinskaya! - the queen insisted. – There are hundreds of thousands of Grigorievs in Rus', but there is only one Rasputin...
They made peace on the fact that the monastery would be called Tsarskoselsko-Rasputinsky; In front of the architect Zverev, the Empress revealed the “ideological” plan of the future temple: “Gregory was killed in damned Petersburg, and therefore you will turn the Rasputin Monastery towards the capital as a blank wall without a single window. Turn the facade of the monastery, bright and joyful, towards my palace...” On March 21, 1917, precisely on Rasputin’s birthday, they were going to found the monastery. But in February, ahead of the tsar’s schedule, the revolution broke out, and it seemed that Grishka’s long-standing threat to the tsars had come true:
“That's it! I won’t exist, and you won’t exist either.” It is true that after the assassination of Rasputin, the Tsar lasted only 74 days on the throne. When an army is defeated, it buries its banners so that they do not fall to the winner. Rasputin lay in the ground, like the banner of a fallen monarchy, and no one knew where his grave was. The Romanovs hid the place of his burial...
Staff Captain Klimov, who served on the anti-aircraft batteries of Tsarskoye Selo, once walked along the outskirts of the parks; By chance he wandered to stacks of boards and bricks, an unfinished chapel lay frozen in the snow. The officer illuminated its arches with a flashlight and noticed a blackened hole under the altar. Having squeezed into its recess, he found himself in the dungeon of the chapel. There stood a coffin - large and black, almost square; there was a hole in the lid, like a ship's porthole. The staff captain directed the flashlight beam directly into this hole, and then Rasputin himself looked at him from the depths of oblivion, eerie and ghostly...
Klimov appeared at the Council of Soldiers' Deputies.
“There are a lot of fools in Rus',” he said. – Aren’t there already enough experiments on Russian psychology? Can we guarantee that the obscurantists will not find out where Grishka lies, as I did? We must stop all pilgrimages of the Rasputinites from the beginning...
Bolshevik G.V. Elin, a soldier of the armored car division (soon the first chief of the armored forces of the young Soviet Republic), took up this matter. Covered in black leather, creaking angrily, he decided to put Rasputin to death - execution after death!
Today, Lieutenant Kiselev was on duty guarding the royal family; in the kitchen he was handed a lunch menu for “Romanov citizens.”
“Chowder soup,” Kiselyov read, marching along long corridors, “smelt risotto pies and cutlets, vegetable chops, porridge and currant pancakes... Well, not bad!”
The doors leading to the royal chambers opened.
“Citizen Emperor,” said the lieutenant, handing over the menu, “allow me to draw your highest attention...
Nicholas II put aside the tabloid Blue Magazine (in which some of his ministers were presented against the backdrop of prison bars, while others had ropes wrapped around their heads) and answered the lieutenant dimly:
– Don’t you find it difficult to use the awkward combination of the words “citizen” and “emperor”? Why don't you call me simpler...
"Devilry". A book that Valentin Pikul himself called “the main success in his literary biography.”
The story of the life and death of one of the most controversial figures Russian history- Grigory Rasputin - develops under the pen of Pikul into a large-scale and fascinating story about the most paradoxical period, probably for our country - the short break between the February and October revolutions...
Valentin Pikul
Devilry
I dedicate this to the memory of my grandmother, the Pskov peasant woman Vasilisa Minaevna Karenina, who lived her entire long life not for herself, but for people.
Prologue,
which could be an epilogue
The old Russian history was ending and a new one was beginning. Creeping through the alleys with their wings, the loudly hooting owls of reaction darted through their caves... The first to disappear somewhere was the overly perceptive Matilda Kshesinskaya, a unique prima weighing 2 pounds and 36 pounds (the fluff of the Russian stage!); a brutal crowd of deserters was already destroying her palace, smashing into smithereens the fabulous gardens of Babylon, where overseas birds sang in the captivating bushes. The ubiquitous newspaper men stole the ballerina’s notebook, and the Russian man in the street could now find out how this amazing woman’s daily budget worked out:
For a hat – 115 rubles.
A person's tip is 7 kopecks.
For a suit – 600 rubles.
Boric acid – 15 kopecks.
Vovochka as a gift - 3 kopecks.
The imperial couple were temporarily kept under arrest in Tsarskoe Selo; at workers' rallies there were already calls to execute "Nikolashka the Bloody", and from England they promised to send a cruiser for the Romanovs, and Kerensky expressed a desire to personally escort the royal family to Murmansk. Under the windows of the palace the students sang:
Alice needs to go back
Address for letters – Hesse – Darmstadt,
Frau Alice rides "nach Rhine"
Frau Alice – aufwiederzein!
Who would believe that just recently they were arguing:
– We will call the monastery over the grave of the unforgettable martyr: Rasputin! - stated the empress.
“Dear Alix,” the husband answered respectfully, “but such a name will be misinterpreted by the people, because the surname sounds obscene.” It is better to call the monastery Grigorievskaya.
- No, Rasputinskaya! - the queen insisted. – There are hundreds of thousands of Grigorievs in Rus', but there is only one Rasputin...
They made peace on the fact that the monastery would be called Tsarskoselsko-Rasputinsky; In front of the architect Zverev, the Empress revealed the “ideological” plan of the future temple: “Gregory was killed in damned Petersburg, and therefore you will turn the Rasputin Monastery towards the capital with a blank wall without a single window. The façade of the monastery, bright and joyful, turn towards my palace...” March 21, 1917 year, precisely on Rasputin’s birthday, they were going to found a monastery. But in February, ahead of the tsar’s schedule, the revolution broke out, and it seemed that Grishka’s long-standing threat to the tsars had come true:
“That’s it! I’ll be gone – and you won’t be either.” It is true that after the assassination of Rasputin, the Tsar lasted only 74 days on the throne. When an army is defeated, it buries its banners so that they do not fall to the winner. Rasputin lay in the ground, like the banner of a fallen monarchy, and no one knew where his grave was. The Romanovs hid the place of his burial...
Staff Captain Klimov, who served on the anti-aircraft batteries of Tsarskoye Selo, once walked along the outskirts of the parks; By chance he wandered to stacks of boards and bricks, an unfinished chapel lay frozen in the snow. The officer illuminated its arches with a flashlight and noticed a blackened hole under the altar. Having squeezed into its recess, he found himself in the dungeon of the chapel. There stood a coffin - large and black, almost square; there was a hole in the lid, like a ship's porthole. The staff captain directed the flashlight beam directly into this hole, and then Rasputin himself looked at him from the depths of oblivion, eerie and ghostly...
Klimov appeared at the Council of Soldiers' Deputies.
“There are a lot of fools in Rus',” he said. – Aren’t there already enough experiments on Russian psychology? Can we guarantee that the obscurantists will not find out where Grishka lies, as I did? We must stop all pilgrimages of the Rasputinites from the beginning...
Bolshevik G.V. Elin, a soldier of the armored car division (soon the first chief of the armored forces of the young Soviet Republic), took up this matter. Covered in black leather, creaking angrily, he decided to put Rasputin to death - execution after death!
Today, Lieutenant Kiselev was on duty guarding the royal family; in the kitchen he was handed a lunch menu for “Romanov citizens.”
“Chowder soup,” Kiselyov read, marching along long corridors, “smelt risotto pies and cutlets, vegetable chops, porridge and currant pancakes... Well, not bad!”
The doors leading to the royal chambers opened.
“Citizen Emperor,” said the lieutenant, handing over the menu, “allow me to draw your highest attention...
Nicholas II put aside the tabloid Blue Magazine (in which some of his ministers were presented against the backdrop of prison bars, while others had ropes around their heads) and answered the lieutenant dimly:
– Don’t you find it difficult to use the awkward combination of the words “citizen” and “emperor”? Why don't you call me simpler...
He wanted to advise that they address him by his first name and patronymic, but Lieutenant Kiselev understood the hint differently.
– Your Majesty,- he whispered, looking towards the door, - the soldiers of the garrison became aware of Rasputin’s grave, now they are holding a meeting, deciding what to do with his ashes...
The Empress, all in keen attention, quickly spoke with her husband in English, then suddenly, without even feeling pain, she tore off a precious ring from her finger, a gift from the British Queen Victoria, and almost forcibly put it on the lieutenant’s little finger.
“I beg you,” she muttered, “you will get whatever you want, just save me!” God will punish us for this crime...
The empress's condition "was truly terrible, and even more terrible - the nervous twitching of her face and her entire body during a conversation with Kiselyov, which ended in a strong hysterical attack." The lieutenant reached the chapel when the soldiers were already working with spades, angrily opening the stone floor to get to the coffin. Kiselev began to protest:
“Are there really no believers in God among you?”
There were also such among the soldiers of the revolution.
Kiselyov rushed to the office phone, calling the Tauride Palace, where the Provisional Government was meeting. Commissar Voitinsky was on the other end of the line:
- Thank you! I will report to Minister of Justice Kerensky...
And the soldiers were already carrying Rasputin’s coffin through the streets. Among the local inhabitants, who came running from everywhere, wandered “material evidence” taken from the grave. It was the Gospel in expensive morocco and a modest icon tied with a silk bow, like a box of chocolates for a name day. From the underside of the image, with a chemical pencil, the Empress wrote her name with the names of her daughters; Vyrubova signed below; around the list of names the words are placed in a frame: YOURS – SAVE – US – AND HAVE MERCY. The rally began again. The speakers climbed onto the lid of the coffin, as if onto a podium, and talked about what a terrible animal power lies here, trampled by them, but now they, citizens of free Russia, boldly trample on this evil spirit that will never rise...
And the ministers conferred in the Tauride Palace.
- This is unthinkable! – Rodzianko snorted. – If the workers of the capital find out that the soldiers have dragged Rasputin, unwanted excesses may occur. Alexander Fedorych, what is your opinion?
“It is necessary,” answered Kerensky, “to stop the demonstration with the corpse on Zabalkansky Avenue.” I propose: take the coffin by force and secretly bury it in the cemetery of the Novodevichy Convent...
In the evening, near the Tsarskoye Selo station, G.V. Elin stopped a truck hurrying to Petrograd, the soldiers hoisted Rasputin into the back of the car - and off they went, just hold on to your hats!
“That’s what I didn’t drive,” the driver admitted. - And Chinese furniture, and Brazilian cocoa, and even Christmas tree decorations, but to carry a dead person... and even Rasputin! – this has never happened to me before. By the way, where do you guys go?
- We don’t even know ourselves. Where are you going, my dear?
- To the garage. My Benz of the court department.
- Take us there too. The morning is wiser than the evening…
The old Russian history was ending and a new one was beginning. Creeping through the alleys with their wings, the loudly hooting owls of reaction darted through their caves... The first to disappear somewhere was the overly perceptive Matilda Kshesinskaya, a unique prima weighing 2 pounds and 36 pounds (the fluff of the Russian stage!); a brutal crowd of deserters was already destroying her palace, smashing into smithereens the fabulous gardens of Babylon, where overseas birds sang in the captivating bushes. The ubiquitous newspaper men stole the ballerina’s notebook, and the Russian man in the street could now find out how this amazing woman’s daily budget worked out:
For a hat - 115 rubles.
A person's tip is 7 kopecks.
For a suit - 600 rubles.
Boric acid - 15 kopecks.
Vovochka as a gift - 3 kopecks.
The imperial couple were temporarily kept under arrest in Tsarskoe Selo; At workers’ rallies, there were already calls to execute “Nikolashka the Bloody,” and from England they promised to send a cruiser for the Romanovs, and Kerensky expressed a desire to personally escort the royal family to Murmansk. Under the windows of the palace the students sang:
Alice needs to go back, Address for letters - Hesse - Darmstadt, Frau Alice is going “nach Rhine”, Frau Alice is aufwiederzein!
Who would believe that just recently they were arguing:
- We will call the monastery over the grave of the unforgettable martyr:
Rasputinsky! - stated the empress.
“Dear Alix,” the husband answered respectfully, “but such a name will be misinterpreted by the people, because the surname sounds obscene.” It is better to call the monastery Grigorievskaya.
- No, Rasputinskaya! - the queen insisted. - There are hundreds of thousands of Grigorievs in Rus', but there is only one Rasputin...
They made peace on the fact that the monastery would be called Tsarskoselsko-Rasputinsky; In front of the architect Zverev, the Empress revealed the “ideological” plan of the future temple: “Gregory was killed in damned Petersburg, and therefore you will turn the Rasputin Monastery towards the capital as a blank wall without a single window. Turn the facade of the monastery, bright and joyful, towards my palace...” On March 21, 1917, precisely on Rasputin’s birthday, they were going to found the monastery. But in February, ahead of the tsar’s schedule, the revolution broke out, and it seemed that Grishka’s long-standing threat to the tsars had come true:
“That's it! I will be gone - and you will not be.” It is true that after the assassination of Rasputin, the Tsar lasted only 74 days on the throne. When an army is defeated, it buries its banners so that they do not fall to the winner.
Rasputin lay in the ground, like the banner of a fallen monarchy, and no one knew where his grave was. The Romanovs hid the place of his burial...
Staff Captain Klimov, who served on the anti-aircraft batteries of Tsarskoye Selo, once walked along the outskirts of the parks; By chance he wandered to stacks of boards and bricks, an unfinished chapel lay frozen in the snow. The officer illuminated its arches with a flashlight and noticed a blackened hole under the altar. Having squeezed into its recess, he found himself in the dungeon of the chapel. There stood a coffin - large and black, almost square; there was a hole in the lid, like a ship's porthole. The staff captain directed the flashlight beam directly into this hole, and then Rasputin himself looked at him from the depths of oblivion, eerie and ghostly...
