Alexander II_ The Last Great Tsar - Edvard Radzinsky [55]
“A present to my dear Mama”—these are his oral teachings, painstakingly recorded in Alix’s elegant hand.
She took them with her to Tobolsk and Ekaterinburg. She would keep rereading them until the day she died.
Here are some of them:
“Whosoever cares only for himself, he is a fool or a torturer of the Light, the ministers we have in general care only for themselves—Ach! That is not the way! Our homeland is broad, we must make room for people to work, but not the leftists or the rightists; the leftists are stupid and the rightists are fools. Why? Because they want to teach with the stick. I have lived fifty years already, my sixth decade is beginning, and I can say: Whosoever thinks he is learned and has studied—wise men speak the truth—he is a fool.
“The Mother of God was intelligent, though she never wrote about herself.… But her life is known to our spirit….
“Never fear releasing prisoners or resurrecting sinners to a just life. Through their suffering prisoners … come to stand above us before God….
“Love heaven, it comes from love, wheresoever the spirit, there are we. Love the clouds—for that is where we live….”
The inordinate influence of a semiliterate muzhik on the mistress of all Russia. Because he ministered not only to the unfortunate son’s body but also to the tormented empress’s soul.
From his lips poured a stream of great Christian truths, with which she cleansed herself from the day’s trials. An aficionado of religious books and, of course, a hypnotist, he was able to become the longed-for “holy man” of whom she had dreamed in the Sarov wilderness. Saint Serafim resurrected. To Grigory she entrusted her soul.
In the beginning when he first entered the palace, Rasputin was meek and radiant. Later, when he was already settling into his role of holy man, he would be by turns familiar, ferocious, mocking, and threatening with the tsarist couple. There was no pose in this. He was stupefyingly simple and natural.
THE MYSTERY OF RASPUTIN
Rasputin’s mystery lay not in his power of miracle working. That power is indisputable, and it saved Alix’s son repeatedly. He did not even necessarily have to be physically close to Alexei. A twentieth-century sorcerer, he was already using the telephone and telegraph.
The stories have been told a multitude of times.
A call from Tsarskoe Selo to Rasputin’s apartment: the boy is suffering. His ear hurts; he cannot sleep.
“Have him come here,” the holy man addresses the empress over the phone. And very tenderly to the boy who has come to the phone: “What is it, Alyoshenka, burning the midnight oil? Nothing hurts, your ear does not hurt anymore, I’m telling you. Sleep.”
Fifteen minutes later, a call comes from Tsarskoe Selo: his ear does not hurt, he is sleeping.
In 1912 the heir is dying at Spala. He has a bruise, and he is getting a blood infection. But Alix, her face racked by night vigils, triumphantly shows the doctors Rasputin’s telegram: “God has gazed on your tears and accepted your prayers. Be not sad. Your son shall live.” The distinguished doctors can only shake their heads sadly: the terrible finale is inevitable.
But the boy … the boy soon recovers.
During the war Nicholas takes the heir with him to Headquarters at Mogilev. Alexei gets chilled and catches an ordinary cold. But the boy is not ordinary: as he is blowing his nose the blood vessels burst and the blood begins to gush—and this blood the doctors can no longer stop. Alexei is sent to Tsarskoe Selo on the imperial train along with Gilliard and the powerless Dr. Derevenko. The tsaritsa awaits him at the platform in Tsarskoe Selo.
“The blood has stopped!” Gilliard announces triumphantly.
“I know,” Alix replies calmly. “When did this happen?”
“Somewhere around six-thirty.”
Alix holds