In that same week another incident occurred which caused the Saint no little apprehension. His Majesty had appointed Samarin as Procurator of the Holy Synod, an appointment which Rasputin knew might easily result in his own downfall. Samarin, an honest, upright man, was one of his most bitter enemies, for he knew the disgraceful past of both him and Teofan, and further he had gained accurate knowledge of which appointments of Bishops in the Pravoslavny Church had been the outcome of the ex-horse stealer’s influence. Therefore, the arch-adventurer saw that at all hazards this new Procurator must not be allowed to remain in office, for already he had announced his intention to clear the Pravoslavny Church of its malign influences and filthy practices.
Three days later Rasputin went out to Tsarskoe-Selo, where the Emperor happened to be, and entering His Majesty’s private cabinet said in a confidential tone:
“Listen, Friend. I have a secret to whisper to thee! Last night I was with Stürmer, and he revealed that a great revolutionary plot is afoot for thy deposition from the Throne!”
“What!” cried the Emperor, pale with alarm as he sprang from his chair. “Another plot! By whom?”
“Its chief mover is the man Samarin, whom thou hast appointed Procurator of the Holy Synod,” replied the crafty adventurer. “Stürmer urged me to come at once and to tell thee in private.”
“Are you quite certain of this, Holy Father?” asked the Emperor, looking straight into his bearded face.
The monk’s grey steely eyes, those hypnotic eyes which few women could resist, met the Tsar’s unwaveringly.
“Thou knowest me!” was the “Saint’s” grave reply. “When I speak to thee, I speak but only the truth.”
That same day Samarin was removed from office and disgraced. Everyone wondered why his appointment had been of such brief duration, but that same night, the Prime Minister Stürmer and Rasputin drank champagne and rejoiced together at the house in the Gorokhovaya, while Anna Vyrubova, the favourite lady-in-waiting, was also with them, laughing at their great triumph.
Not a person in all the great Empire could withstand Rasputin’s influence. Honest men feared him just as honest women regarded him with awe. From dozens, nay hundreds, of place-hunters and favour-seekers he took bribes on every hand, but woe betide those who fell beneath the blackguard’s displeasure. It meant death to them. He was certainly the most powerful and fearless secret agent of all that the Huns possessed, scattered as they were in every corner of the globe. Yet it must not be supposed that there were none who did not suspect him. Indeed, a certain committee of revolutionaries, to whose action Russia is to be indebted, were watching the fellow’s career very closely, and some of the secret reports concerning him here as I write form intensely interesting reading, astounding even for the unfathomable land of Russia.