The Emperor was very much troubled over the attacks which were made on the Empress. But both he and the Empress possessed a mistaken sense of their responsibilities in connection with Rasputin, and this mistaken sense of responsibility was to prove the ultimate destruction of both Rasputin and themselves. The Imperial couple resolutely refused to throw him over. In this decision the Emperor was as one with the Empress; perhaps they “humanly” declined to admit the right of anyone to dictate to them ... but, be that as it may, Rasputin’s position remained undisturbed.
It is well known that Rasputin condemned hostilities, but it is not equally well known that he tried to stop the declaration of war. Nevertheless, when mobilization began, he wired to Anna, saying: “The war must be stopped—war must not be declared; it will be the end of all things.” No notice whatever was taken of this telegram, for the excellent reason that Rasputin’s political influence was nil; he had, in fact, no influence in material matters, although many have thought otherwise.
General Beletsky once asked Rasputin to speak to the Emperor and suggest his name as Governor-General of Finland. Rasputin promised to do so, and mentioned the matter to the Emperor, in the presence of the Empress. The Emperor listened, but made no comment. General Beletsky was never appointed.
It seems impossible to obtain a logical hearing on behalf of either the Empress or Rasputin. All kinds of reports have been circulated in connection with the latter’s excesses and debaucheries. There may have been some truth that Rasputin’s private life was not all that it should have been, but I assert most solemnly that we never saw the slightest trace of impropriety in word, manner or behaviour when he was with us at Tsarkoe Selo.
Prince Orloff, the head of the Chancellerie Militaire, never made any pretence of liking or even tolerating the Empress. He experienced a sort of nervous repugnance to meeting her, and it was common knowledge that he took quantities of valerian in order to steady his nerves, whenever it was necessary for him to see her. The Empress was aware of this.
“I saw Prince Orloff to-day,” she said to me, “he was reeking of valerian. Poor man, what an effort it must cost him to speak to me.”
The Prince exercised no discretion whatever in his statements about the Empress and Rasputin; he seemed impelled to disparage her—his hatred amounted almost to a ’phobia—and at last the Emperor lost patience with him and sent him to the Caucasus.
Princess Olga Orloff was received shortly afterwards by the Empress. The Empress was very fond of Olga, but it was a very unpleasant interview, as the Princess tried to explain that her husband had been grossly maligned. The Empress described the interview to me:
“I’ve had a dreadful time, Lili,” she said, “Olga Orloff has just been. I’m very, very sorry for her, she’s in a terrible state. When I rose, she began to speak most wildly, and to insist that her husband was devoted to me and to our interests. I knew that, if I were to sit down, I should burst into tears; so I kept standing. It was an awful moment.”
Rasputin always had a presentiment of a violent death. He often remarked, with an air of profound conviction: “Whilst I’m alive all will be well, but, after my death, rivers of blood will flow. Nothing, however, will happen to ‘Father’ and ‘Mother’”—this was his way of alluding to the Emperor and Empress. About this time an old woman, a disciple of Elidor’s, came to see Rasputin one night, wearing a white dress plentifully trimmed with scarlet ribbons.