The December 1916 murder of Russian peasant
Gregory Rasputin by a group of disaffected aristocrats, politicians, and
hangers-on, has always been shrouded in myth.
Like the 1918 execution of the Russian Imperial Family or the
assassination of President John F. Kennedy, it has been endowed with layer upon
layer of hearsay, untruths, and outright lies masquerading as history. Getting at the truth of what may have
happened in the Yusupov Palace on the Moika Canal that December night nearly a
hundred years ago has often involved attempting to strip away these encircling
legends and rumors.
I have something of a vested interest in this
search. Not only have I long been
interested in Rasputin’s life but in 1996 my book “The Man Who Killed Rasputin”
(UK title: “The Murder of Rasputin”) was perhaps the first full historical
account to seriously and openly question the “accepted” versions of the murder
left by self-confessed assassin Prince Felix Yusupov and by ultra-right-wing
Duma member Vladimir Purishkevich. In
the decade following its publication, others have followed, adding to the
narrative. Some of what I included in my
book has now been shown to be less than reliable, while recent revelations have
substantiated other points calling into question the accuracy of the usual
story of Rasputin’s death. But the trend
itself has only grown. In short, it has
now become fashionable to question the veracity of the traditional account of
Rasputin’s murder.
Now comes “To Kill
Rasputin,” by British author Andrew Cook.
The book is less concerned with Rasputin’s story than with the manner of
his death-in this case, a hypothesis that members of British intelligence in
Cook’s credentials seem suited for the task he
has given himself. For many years, he
worked as a specialist in foreign affairs and defense operations, which gave
him both ties to those who guarded
“To Kill Rasputin” presents a rather quickly
sketched portrait of the main story’s mise en scene, presenting a faltering
Imperial Russia presided over by a thoroughly overwhelmed and often incompetent
Nicholas II. There are a few gems of
insight: Cook’s depiction of what he terms the “dysfunctional” marriage of
Nicholas and an extremely dominant Alexandra rings true, as does his rather
cynical take on Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, the “saintly” Ella who, he
notes, was not above “privately fomenting anger” and, even as a respected
religious figure, had no qualms about congratulating Yusupov and Grand Duke
Dimitri Pavlovich for their apparent cold-blooded murder of the peasant. He also points out a fascinating aspect of
the Rasputin story that has thus far largely been ignored: that much of the
money the peasant received in bribes was, in fact, channeled back to the
Empress for use in funding her charities during the First World War.
The relationship between Rasputin and the Empress, as their critics saw it
Alongside such interesting explorations,
however, Cook’s book includes a number of annoying errors when he discusses
people and events. Nicholas and
Alexandra, Cook writes, were married shortly before Alexander III’s death, when
in fact their wedding came a week after his funeral. He identifies the Empress’s friend Lili Dehn
several times as an actress-maybe, but certainly news to me. Alexandra’s brother Grand Duke Ernst Ludwig
of Hesse is erroneously referred to as “Prince Ernst of Hesse;” Kaiser Wilhelm
II, Alexandra’s cousin, is called her uncle; and Grand Duke Serge Alexandrovich
is said to have been shot by an assassin in 1905 when, in fact, he was blown
apart by a terrorist bomb.
Despite what was apparently extensive research
in
Cook’s book presents two main points of consideration: possible British involvement in Rasputin’s murder (and therefore, as a result, an automatic rejection as gospel of the accounts left by Yusupov and by Purishkevich), and the forensic analysis of the murder, which again conflicts with the “accepted” versions of the participants. Each of these two spheres deserves exploration.
There is substantial evidence that
The important point is not so much the fact that
we know Rasputin wasn’t a German spy or working for a separate peace, but
rather what the perception was amongst those who may have worried about the
possible consequences. In short, what
After some analysis, Cook declares that the
British Secret Service ordered the assassination, and
states that the man who was behind it all and who fired the fatal shot that
night was Oswald Rayner. Rayner had
befriended Yusupov when the latter was at
The evidence of British involvement, though, is
less concrete than Cook would have it.
It is certainly true that, after the murder of Rasputin, according to
the memoirs of Anna Vyrubova, both Nicholas and Alexandra harbored strong
suspicions against Ambassador Buchanan and his coterie. Buchanan himself recalled that, after the
peasant’s murder, Nicholas II received him-for the first time-coldly, standing,
in his formal audience room in the Alexander Palace at Tsarskoye Selo rather
than sitting in his private study, as had been usual before. Then there are deciphered cables that Cook quotes,
sent by Buchanan, which confirm that Nicholas II directly asked him if Rayner
had been involved in the peasant’s murder, an indication that such talk was
certainly current in Petrograd. With his
own Okhrana agents and police reports, the Emperor would certainly have been
well informed of any such developments.
On top of this, Cook quotes a memo written
This cable seems to support the idea of British
involvement. “Dark Forces” was a code
used for Rasputin, Cook argues. What
“thing” had not proceeded “entirely to plan” but the
murder, if the cable is accepted as discussing the peasant’s death? Use of the word “plan” indicates that the
British were involved, as does the line about “our objective.” And further, the line that “awkward
questions” and “wider involvement” were being asked and that Rayner was trying to
attend to “loose ends” again indicates a degree of British involvement that, if
Cook’s interpretation is correct, cannot be lightly dismissed. Why, one must ask, would the British be
worried about “awkward questions” as to “wider involvement” in Rasputin’s
murder if they themselves were not involved?
And what possible role would Rayner have had in tying up “loose ends” if
he himself was not involved somehow with all of this?
The problem is that the cable is subject to
interpretation. Rasputin is not
mentioned by name at all, although it does seem obvious that he is indeed the
subject of discussion. If the cable does
refer to Rasputin, as seems likely, then we have to accept that British
intelligence may have been involved somehow in events surrounding his
death. The cable does not provide
evidence, in and of itself, of precisely what that involvement may have
been. Cook includes some circumstantial
evidence-hearsay and second and third-hand statements-that support his
argument, but this is the bulk of his case.
Was Oswald Raynor really involved in the
murder? Perhaps. Cook’s evidence and theories are interesting,
and certainly call for further exploration, but cannot, as of now, be
considered definitive in this respect.
Taken together, what the evidence does certainly show is the possibility
of British involvement.
Cook’s second focus is on a re-examination of
the murder itself. Using the original
autopsy report and photographs, he manages to successfully tear hole after hole
in the “accepted” versions of the peasant’s death left to us by Yusupov and
Purishkevich. There is no evidence that
Rasputin was poisoned: the “brownish” liquid mass found in his stomach could
indicate that an attempt was made, but the evidence on the poison is very
contradictory.
Rasputin was shot three times. The first shot entered the left chest and
penetrated the stomach and the liver; a second entered the left back and
penetrated the kidneys; and the final shot was fired at close range into
Rasputin’s forehead. The 1917 autopsy
report says that the first two were fired when Rasputin was standing or
upright: if true, this completely undermines the Yusupov/Purishkevich version,
since Yusupov says he fired only once and Rasputin fell over onto a bearskin
rug. The third shot also contradicts
Purishkevich who says he shot Rasputin as the peasant was running away in the
courtyard; obviously, the shot to the head was in the form of a coup de grace
when Rasputin was lying prone on his back and was fired at close range directly
into his head. The alternative is that
Yusupov fired shot No. 1 when Rasputin was standing/sitting, and Purishkevich
fired No. 2 and No. 3-the first when Rasputin was fleeing (to the back) and
then shot No. 3 directly into the forehead.
The evidence indicates that shot No. 1 (entering
the left chest) was on a downward trajectory to penetrate the stomach and the
kidneys, though there is no angle given in the autopsy report, which makes it
difficult to determine how sharp the trajectory may have been; in any case,
this shot had to have been fired either while Rasputin was at a lower level
than the shooter, or else the shooter would have had to have angled the gun
somewhat unnaturally down at an angle to make the bullet pass from the upper
chest down to the stomach and the kidneys.
It is not impossible that this is correct as Yusupov says Rasputin was
examining the cabinet when he shot him, and the peasant could have been in a
slightly bent position; if Yusupov was above standing, his shot may have been
slightly angled down and could have caused this trajectory, though it
contradicts Yusupov’s account that he shot Rasputin while the peasant had his
back turned. To make this work Yusupov
would have had to have been standing to the left front of Rasputin, not behind
him.
The problem of the second shot to the left back
is complex. Assuming shot. No. 1 to have
been fired in the cellar by Yusupov, Rasputin would have been unlikely to have
been up on his feet running about; Kossorotov, in his original autopsy report,
concludes that shots No. 1 and No. 2 were fired roughly simultaneously when
Rasputin was upright, which certainly conflicts with the versions left by
Yusupov and Purishkevich and again raises questions as to their
reliability. It is, of course, possible,
that Rasputin had the wherewithal to run away having been shot in the stomach
and the kidneys from shot No. 1, though just how debilitating such a wound
would be is something that Cook should perhaps have explored in greater depth.
Cook offers several modern assessments of
Kossorotov’s original autopsy. Russian
Professor Zharov concludes that three different weapons may have been used,
which would mean a third shooter if we are to believe the Yusupov and
Purishkevich versions, since neither man changed guns according
to their own accounts. However, this is
analysis derived from study of the report and from photographs, which is not as
reliable as first hand observation.
Still, it is a view supported by the other forensic specialist, Derrick
Pounder, who also suggests three different caliber weapons were used. An additional point that somewhat undermines
their contention is that neither modern man had access to the actual bullet
recovered from the body, so their conclusions are speculative, though founded
in their scientific and forensic experience.
The issue of the one bullet recovered is also
problematic because the original autopsy report does not specify from which
wound this was recovered. Cook alleges
that there was an exit wound on the back of the head, but the autopsy report
makes no mention of this, and there are no photographs depicting the rear of
Rasputin’s head. It is probable,
therefore, that the bullet retrieved by Kossorotov was indeed from the head
shot, and that there was no exit wound to the head. Additionally, he mentions that there was a
large wound made by a blunt object observed on the occipital parietal area of
the head (the rear) which means he did note any damage to the rear of the
head-thus, no exit wound.
This, however, also raises questions about
Pounder, who suggests that the head wound was from an unjacketed bullet fired
from a British Webley; such an unjacketed bullet should have exited and left
significant trauma to the rear of the head.
Clearly there was no exit of the bullet fired to the head. An unjacketed bullet should have lacerated
the brain into a soupy mass, whereas Kossorotov makes specific mention of
examination of the lobes of the brain.
“To Kill Rasputin” is less conclusive proof of a
British plan to assassinate Rasputin than it is an important step in
deconstructing the myth of the peasant’s death based on the accounts of Yusupov
and Purishkevich. It thoroughly shows
that these versions are, at the very least, flawed and inaccurate in their
details and often unreliable; at worst, they may be fabrications to cover up
what really took place. Cook also shows
that the “diary” by Purishkevich is not a diary at all but a later memoir,
subject to manipulation. Substantial
evidence exists that Russian officials, with Nicholas II’s knowledge, were actively
discussing the idea of a separate peace while Nicholas II himself was assuring
his allies that such was not the case.
Cook shows through an examination of this evidence that
The forensic evidence surrounding the murder is
also important in undermining the accounts of Yusupov and Purishkevich. Some of Cook’s contentions based on modern
forensic re-analysis are certainly open to question, and should be investigated
at greater length; others-such as his statement that there was an exit wound in
the rear of Rasputin’s hand-are flatly contradicted by the original autopsy
report and not supported by any modern analysis.
In the end, Cook’s book is less definite than
his claims would make it. There is no
irrefutable proof that British intelligence ordered Rasputin’s assassination,
nor that Rayner was himself involved, and some of the modern forensic
interpretations contained in the book are certainly either open to debate or
are contradicted by the autopsy report itself.
But the basic premise presented in the book cannot simply be
ignored. The evidence offered at the
very least offers a tantalizing explanation of what may have happened at the
Moika Palace in December 1916; further investigation-and evidence-is needed
before the story of Rasputin’s death can be conclusively re-written, but Cook
is to be commended for opening a new avenue of exploration that may indeed one
day bear fruit.