fancy boy cyanide murder tea party
or, the seven and a half deaths of Grigori Rasputin
Friends!
It's February! Which means my brain is a hornets' nest of pre-book-launch activity and forming coherent sentences is a trial!
With that in mind, this installment of Dirtbags Through the Ages will be what we in the business call a Classic: one you've probably heard before, but which delights me no less for the retelling.
(The sudden profusion of TikTok dances also help.)
That's right, мои друзья, it's...
RASPUTIN O'CLOCK
You probably don't need much of an introduction to my boy Gregori Yefimovich, but just in case: Rasputin was the scandalous holy man who became the most trusted advisor of Tsarina Alexandra Romanov just before the Russian Revolution. The tsarina was all-in for Rasputin because he (allegedly) saved her hemophiliac son's life.
Now, a quick game of Rasputin True-or-False:
Was Rasputin really Alexandra's lover? No. (I say that with all the certainty of someone who has read several books and has loud opinions.) He definitely liked to get around, but the tsar and the tsarina were by all accounts devoted to each other. The Rasputin/Alex rumors were started by people mad at them for other, less-sexy reasons.
Was Rasputin a magic healer? I mean?? Historians speculate about the psychosomatic effect Rasputin's overall *vibes* had on the tsarevich. No one has a great explanation. But he probably didn't have a reliquary full of ancient winged demons, if that's what you're asking.
Was Rasputin impossible to kill? No! This man is dead. But the murder didn't go well, which is what we're gonna talk about in today's main feature...
The Seven and a Half Deaths of Grigori Rasputin
December, 1916. Tsar Nicholas II is increasingly unpopular with a restless populace. World War I is ravaging the Russian army. Rasputin is giving loud and pointed wartime advice to the tsarina, and the tsarina is listening. Now, if you're the traditional Russian nobility in 1916, the last thing you want is a wacky monk from Bass-Ackwards, Siberia telling the tsar and his wife what to do.
So a handful of fancy boys from Saint Petersburg decide now would be a great time to murder the Mad Monk.
The fanciest of all the fancy boys was Prince Felix Yusupov, a generally unpleasant waste of a person who thought a neat way to get in with the cool kids was to commit murder. (To be clear, Felix Yusupov is the dumbass dirtbag prince of my heart, and someday he'll get a newsletter all his own, but he is objectively a lousy person.)
So Felix rounds up some of his friends, including the tsar's cousin Grand Duke Dmitri, and invites Rasputin over to his palace for a tea party with a side of murder.
Now, to understand what happened next, it's important to know that Prince Felix Yusupov was extremely bad at murder.
He fed Rasputin a handful of poisoned tea cakes. Rasputin chows down and carries on, perfectly fine.
Felix, alarmed, then poisons Rasputin's wine. Rasputin swigs down three glasses, no problem.
Absolutely nothing is coming up Yusupov at this point, so after darting upstairs for a moment so his friends could hype him up, Felix shoots Rasputin in the chest.
This, perhaps unsurprisingly, starts to do the trick.
However, he's not dead yet!
He lunges at Felix, who flees out into the snow, pursued by a very nearly dead Rasputin. Between Felix and his Merry Band of Murder Friends, Rasputin is shot four more times. This at least stops the Walking Dead-esque pursuit.
Finally, Rasputin's body is flung over a bridge into the icy Neva. People telling this story usually end it by saying that the autopsy found water in Rasputin's lungs, proving that he died not from the five gunshot wounds or the two poisons, but from drowning.
OK, But Like...Really?
Eh. Remember what I said about the lack of magical reliquary?
The doctor who supposedly sold Felix Yusupov the potassium cyanide really sold him some crushed-up aspirin, having had some second thoughts about the whole "give cyanide to dirtbags with murder plans" thing.
The autopsy suggests Rasputin got shot in the side first, rather than straight through the chest, which makes his brief zombie-walk much more likely. (It also surprises me zero percent that Yusupov's story pretends his aim was better than it was.)
The autopsy reports no evidence of water in Rasputin's lungs, so he was dead before he hit the water.
Still. It's a darn good story for a wacky Siberian mystic, so no wonder the embellished bits have staying power. It's also a darn good song for chickens to dance to.
Book News Roundup
If you're reading this the day I sent it, it's exactly one week until A Tip for the Hangman is out on shelves and e-readers and audiobook platforms near you! I'm totally chill about this. Absolutely and totally chill.
There's still time to preorder at the usual suspects: Bookshop, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, or your local indie.
Virtual Book Tour
I also have a few events planned to celebrate the birth of my rectangular son! I'd love to see you at any and/or all of them.
February 9, 7CT: Instagram Live book launch with Genevieve Gornichec (author of The Witch's Heart) and Elizabeth Everett (author of A Lady's Formula for Love).
February 15, 7CT: Virtual launch party hosted by The Book Cellar in Chicago. In conversation with Alyssa Palombo (author of The Borgia Confessions). Register Here
February 17, 8CT: Virtual event hosted by The Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, AZ. In conversation with Susanna Calkins (author of The Sign of the Gallows). See Event Calendar
And, as ever, if you know a friend who wishes they owned Felix Yusupov's coat, toss em my subscribe page.
I leave you singing "ra ra Rasputin" to yourself until next time,
Allison