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Premonitions: A leap in to the future – Herbert Greenhouse [1971]

The man with the cold, deep-set eyes looked penetratingly into the eyes of the prophet. It was a battle of wills-or rather a battle between a man of great will and hypnotic power and one who was quietly confident that his prophecies would be borne out.

The psychic repeated what he had said: "I foresee for you a violent end within the palace. You will be menaced by poison, by knife, and by bullet. Finally, I see the icy waters of the Neva closing above you."

The other man glared at the psychic.

"I shall laugh at the prediction," said the man in strong, measured tones. "I am called the Savior of Russia. I am the Maker of Destiny."

This scene took place in January, 1905. The psychic was Count Louis Hamon, and he was "reading" the future of Grigori Rasputin, the Mad Monk of Russia. There has been no more bizarre character in history than the Mad Monk.

Winning the confidence of the Czarina, Alexandra, and later the Czar, Nicholas II, he fascinated almost everyone he met with the sheer force of his personality and mesmeric eyes. How could a mere palm-reader predict such an ignominious end for the great Rasputin?

The end almost came two years before the time predicted, when a peasant girl, Guseva, stabbed him in the stomach.

"Menaced by knife," he recovered after being near death for several weeks. A year later, in 1915, Rasputin was the behind-the-scenes ruler of Russia, with the Czar and Czarina his willing subjects. But his list of enemies was growing, particularly among the nobility.

Prince Youssoupoff, who later wrote a book about the Mad Monk, plotted with one Pourkievitch and other nobles to kill him. Several attempts to trap Rasputin went awry, but finally a plan was worked out. Youssoupoff invited Rasputin to dinner at his palace, while the other conspirators waited on the floor above the dining room.

The food that was laid before the Mad Monk had been doctored with poison. On the table were decanters filled with red Crimean wine, and beside them were goblets containing powdered crystals of potassium cyanide. At first Rasputin refused to eat, and Prince Youssoupoff wondered uneasily if he was suspicious. Finally the Mad Monk picked up a chocolate cake and bit into it. The Prince sat back and waited.

Nothing happened. The Mad Monk seemed to enjoy the cake, and he ate another . . . then another. . . . Youssoupoff stared in dismay as Rasputin finished the last cake and smacked his lips in appreciation. They had had no visible effect on him.

Perhaps, asked the prince in a trembling voice, he would like to try some of that excellent red wine? Rasputin nodded assent, and Youssoupoff poured the wine into a goblet.

Rasputin downed it in one gulp, and. the prince filled up another glass . . . then another. . . . The Mad Monk’s expression never changed. What manner of man was this who would be unaffected by enough poison to kill ten men?

Youssoupoff excused himself and went into another room, where he fetched a pistol. Coming back into the dining room, he aimed for Rasputin's heart and fired. The bullet was true to its mark. The evil genius fell to the floor, bleeding, and lay still. Surely he must now be dead.

Youssoupoff switched off the lights, locked the door, and went upstairs to join the other conspirators. For two hours they discussed what would be the best way to get rid of the body without drawing the attention of the police. A plan was finally worked out, and the Prince went back downstairs and turned on the light. Rasputin still lay where he had fallen.

As Youssoupoff bent down to look at the body, the "dead man" suddenly leaped up and grabbed him by the throat. The Prince struggled, but the strength of the Mad Monk was prodigious. Finally Youssoupoff broke away but not before Rasputin had torn loose an epaulet from the shoulder of his uniform. Clutching the epaulet in his right hand, Rasputin staggered up the stairs, but the other conspirators came down and fired four bullets into his body.

He rolled down the stairs and lay still.

This time he must be dead. They wrapped the body in cloth, got into the Prince's car and drove to Petrovitch Island. Four men held him over their heads, then threw him into the river. His body hit a stone buttress, bounced into the air, smashed against a block of ice, and rolled into the river. The waters closed over Grigori Rasputin.

When Rasputin's body was examined later, there were signs that he had still been alive when thrown into the river. "Menaced by poison, by knife, and by bullet," only the "icy waters of the Neva" could finally kill him.

The story of Rasputin and the fulfillment of the prophecy comes from several biographies of the Mad Monk and from Count Hamon's autobiography, Confessions of a Seer.