But, in spite of all this, he was not quite so successful as he had hoped, because owing to the ignorance which prevailed as to the real state of things in the army, few people believed him, and fewer still would own that they did so. Once more Rasputin’s star was beginning to wane, and even the Empress began to think him very wearisome with his perpetual forebodings concerning misfortunes which seemed to be far away from the limits of possibility.
Then suddenly things changed. Mackensen began his march forward, and the Grand Duke, with his heart full of rage and despair, was compelled, owing to the mistakes, the negligence and the crimes of others, to make the best out of a very bad job, and to try at least to save the army confided to his care. Even if he had to sacrifice towns and fortresses, he had declared he would never, and under no conditions whatever, surrender to the enemy. The great retreat began, and proved to be one of the most glorious pages in the history of Russian warfare, a deed the gallantry of which will live in the military annals of the world as almost as grand a one as the famous retreat of Xenophon and his 10,000 warriors. Russia appreciated its importance; the world admired it; the Czar, though he may have shed bitter tears over its necessity, felt grateful for the talent which was displayed in such a terrible emergency; but people in Petrograd began looking for those upon whom they could fix the responsibility for this awful disappointment which had overtaken them. This was the moment for which Rasputin had been waiting with the patience of the serpent watching for its prey, and of which he hastened to make use with the infernal cunning he usually displayed in all the evil deeds with which he was familiar.
The secret police agents, who were working with him, and thanks to whom he had been enabled to make the enormous profits that had added so many millions to his fortune since the war had started, began to spread the rumour that the Grand Duke was plotting against the Czar, and wanted to usurp the latter’s throne and crown, out of fear of being called upon to render an account of his activity during the nine months of the campaign. Though it was quite evident that the responsibility for the lamentable want of organisation which had culminated in the momentary defeat of the Russian troops lay upon the War Office and the Artillery and Commissariat Departments, and though the War Minister, General Soukhomlinoff, had been dismissed in disgrace before being sent to the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul to await there his trial; though strenuous efforts had been made to punish those to whose carelessness this mass of misfortunes had been due, yet Rasputin and his friends applied themselves to the task of representing the Grand Duke as being more guilty than any one else, and of having on purpose kept secret the real state of things, out of fear that he would be called upon, if he revealed the truth, to surrender his command. There was not one word of truth in these accusations, because Nicholas Nicholaievitsch had, on the contrary, worked harder than any one to repair the blunders of others, and had never shared the blind confidence in victory which so many people who knew nothing about the real condition of affairs professed to nurse. He had done all that it was humanly possible to do, in order to save a situation which had been doomed from the first day that it had begun to develop. If he had failed, this had been in no way his fault, but that of circumstances and of fate which had proved too strong for him.
The public, however, thought differently, and Rasputin’s numerous supporters helped it to come to the conclusion that the Grand Duke ought to be deprived of his command by some means or other. This, however, was not such an easy thing to do, because the Emperor had a sincere esteem and respect for his uncle, and understood better than all those who criticised the latter the extent of the difficulties against which he had had to fight. He refused to listen to those who tried to shake his confidence in the commander-in-chief. He might have gone on for a long time doing so had not Rasputin succeeded in winning over to his point of view several high ecclesiastical dignitaries, who took it upon themselves to speak to the Sovereign of the desire and wishes of the nation to see him assume himself the supreme command over his armies. They assured him that it was quite certain that the armies would fight ever so much better under the personal leadership of their Czar than under any other commander-in-chief, no matter how high might be his military reputation, or how elevated might be his rank. This was quite a new point of view, and Nicholas II. had to examine it with attention, the more so as the Empress, too, had been won over to the idea, and was pressing him to give to his subjects this satisfaction for which they craved.
The military situation was then recognised, even by the most optimistically inclined people, to be very serious, and it was generally felt that something had to be done to excite the enthusiasm of the troops, which had lately begun to wane. The assumption by the Czar of the supreme command seemed to present itself almost in the light of an absolute necessity. Perhaps from some points of view Rasputin was not so very wrong to urge it, as it most certainly produced a salutary effect on the whole situation. But it is to be doubted whether the “Prophet” had ever looked at it in that light. It is far more likely that his only aim had been the displacing of the Grand Duke Nicholas, who had begun to look too closely into all that was going on around Rasputin, and to watch the different intrigues in which the latter was taking part with an attention that did not promise anything good for him, or for the further development of his career as an adventurer.
When the Grand Duke had been appointed Viceroy of the Caucasus, and had left for his new residence, Rasputin breathed freely once more. For one thing, this incident had given him a greater confidence in his own strength than he had even possessed before. Now that he had been able to remove the commander-in-chief of the Russian armies from his post, it seemed to him that it would be a relatively easy thing to push forward, and to appoint to the most important functions in the State people indoctrinated with his view and ready to help him in keeping undisturbed and unchallenged the position into which he had glided so naturally, and as now appeared to him, so simply—a position which he was absolutely determined not to lose. With a Prime Minister at his command, he would become the real master of Russia, and the Czar himself would be compelled to take him into account, a thing which up to then he had refused to do, much to the distress of the “Prophet.” Though he repeated everywhere, and to whomsoever wished to listen to him, that he could do all he liked at Tsarskoie Selo, he knew very well in his inmost heart that such was not the case, and that in the Imperial Palace Rasputin was nothing but Rasputin, an ignorant peasant, endowed sometimes with gifts of second sight and always with religious fervour, but a peasant all the same, with whom one might pray, but whom one would never dream of appointing to any responsible position.
The knowledge that such was the case, and that his so-called influence existed mostly in the imagination of the people who spoke about it, worried Rasputin. Though he dictated to ministers his will, though he decided together with them more than one important matter, yet he felt that there was a flaw in the edifice of his fortune, and that this flaw consisted in the fact that the Sovereign did not share the feeling of reverence with which the Russian nation, as the “Prophet” flattered himself was the case, experienced for his person and for his teachings. This was what tormented him, and he spent the whole time thinking how it might become possible to put in the place of Mr. Goremykine another Prime Minister more ready to enter into his views, and to follow his advice in regard to matters of state. This the then President of Council, in spite of his deference for Rasputin, had refused to do, preferring to discuss the affairs of the Government alone with the Emperor, without any interference of the former.
Rasputin spoke of his wishes to some of his confidants, and even mentioned the subject to several of the high-born ladies who formed the great bulk of his “clientele.” These entered into his views with alacrity, the more so as he developed them in a pathetic tone, which appealed to their feelings of “patriotism.” They would have given much to be able to help him, but they did not very well know how this was to be done. This was due to the sad fact that there seemed to be no one available. The unexpected and sudden death of Count Witte, which had occurred in the meanwhile, removed the only person whom they could suggest as a candidate for the functions of Prime Minister. All those whose names might have been mentioned as fit individuals for the post, such as Mr. Krivoscheine for instance, were people who would, with a greater energy even than Mr. Goremykine had ever displayed, oppose any interference of Rasputin into the conduct of the Government. Their perplexity might have lasted a long time if Providence, in the shape of Mr. Manassevitsch-Maniuloff, had not interfered in their favour, and had the latter not suggested the advisability of entering into negotiations with Mr. Sturmer.