Oh yeah, the obsession with idolizing DT wasn't. Nothing like willful ignorance.
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Donald Trump: Criticism & Debate Thread
- Thread starter Caduceus
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Watching Trump on Hannity right now and it's pretty hard to watch. Trump is still in denial about Covid and gloating about "Operatilon Warp Speed." He also can't seem to completely understand the nuance in Hannity's questions and never really answers them and just veers off topic into repetitive talking points that we've all heard a million times. His age is really showing tonight. Sad.
To hell with Trump, not that it even matters as that is just deflection but any obsession goes both ways brother......
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Trump was a Democrat for most of his younger life. To me, this info is unreliable. Trump doesn't know what's in those ghost written books, most likely he hasn't read them. The writers probably sat down for an interview with him to get some bullet points, and built upon that fleshing out his ideas and thoughts liberally. How much time did he spend with that "teacher"? Does anybody know, did he pay him? A short paragraph isn't enough to rely on. Maybe the guy who wrote the book wanted to give his Kabbalist friend some free publicity and strengthen his market value.
Trump defended Michael Jackson from accusations.
Epstein was always trying to get close to anybody with some influence. If anything, he's protecting other people he knows, who might get tainted by the sticky mud while innocent. I don't care, the age of consent was lowered to 15 in Poland, if anything you should just be embarrassed for trying to relive your tender years. This is what should be done to neuter any blackmail attempts, and then the files should be released.
All of this is bigger than Trump, he doesn't have the support of the deep state the way Putin does. No chance he had sex with an underage girl, he's not that stupid, not his thing. Furthermore, he put the female expiration date at 35, he's much more generous than me, I'm more conservative giving the age of 24-25 as the inflection point when attractiveness begins to fade. He had kissed all the young girls he ever wanted when he was their age. Every american kid above 18 knows not to mess with girls who ain't, some risk it anyway. Trump's smarter than that.
It's a joke. So many girls and their families, and nobody will make a peep. There are so many outlets to use, the dark net, investigative journalists in different countries. The hospital staff who told Giuffre she wouldn't live, who told/threatened them into it. The Manhattan prison guards', cooks', and cleaners' unions- everybody knows what happened to Epstein, but what does anybody care- they get their paychecks as lowly deep state minions and they're happy. Why bother. I wouldn't have banged Victoria Roberts, or any underage girl, had I been a guest there- how stupid and naive does one have to be. I would be careful with food and drinks too. She wasn't even that attractive, looked more like those skinny fashion models with small boobs:
A photograph with Epstein doesn't prove anything, it means just as little as the photo of the Tsar blessing the troops with an icon.
Before WWI, Russia used a gay honey trap on colonel Redl of the Austrian army, they took compromising photographs of them, and forced him to keep turning over critically important classified info. There were gay clubs in Russia, Tsar Nicholas' uncle, the mayor of Moscow Sergei Alexandrovich, killed in a bomb attack was gay.
There is no comparing Trump to the Tsar. Trump doesn't have one tenth the power or state apparatus backing that Nicholas II had.
How much guidance did Trump seek from that Jew? Is he still into that, I doubt it, he changed.
The Tsar was the head of the Russian Orthodox Church, yet Nicholas II had many world famous occultists visit his court and offer their services to his family. One of them was Gerard Encausse. If a father brings a satanist home his whole family/domain is vulnerable- the Tsar had spiritual and political authority over Russia.
Gérard Encausse - Wikipedia
The palace of Tsarskoye Selo, the abode of the stricken Tsaritsa Alexandra of Hesse, the palaces of Princess Yuryevska, Count Sumarokov-Elston, Prince Orlov, Countess Ignatieva, Prince Putiatin, Countess Kleinmichel, Prince Golitzin, Prince Bielosielski-Bielozierski, even those of some of the Grand Dukes, concealed behind their thick walls and magnificent crystal windows interesting and somewhat uncommon happenings.
Crowds of unknown individuals, some with a doubtful past, had a free entrance within their gates. Vagrant monks and nuns from distant monasteries and convents, brought for show to the curious and for prayer to the pious, wonderful relics, similar to the "piece of the ladder" which Jacob saw in his sleep, according to an anecdote from the time of Paul I, or the "legs of the holy martyrs Boris and Gleb." They kept telling of wonderful miracles on the graves of many, not yet canonised, saints, they celebrated masses accojding to an unknown rite, perhaps of some nonexistent monasteries and churches. There were epileptics and hysterical women who, during the attacks of illness, foretold future events and tendered political advice. Just like the famous "klikusha"[1] Daryushka, an agent of Rasputin, Prince Putiatin, and the Commander of Imperial Headquarters, General Woyeykov, warned the Tsaritsa against the Minister of Education, Count Ignatiev, who was an opponent of German policy, and against the famous lady-in-waiting, Mrs. Wasilchikova, the author of the notorious letter to the Tsaritsa, reminding the Princess of Hesse that she was Empress of all Russia.
The well-fed, white-bearded, bald monk, "Ivanushka the Barefooted," with his red legs and his toes always carefully pedicured, amazed and piqued the educated public of Petersburg, when seen bare-footed, in a black cassock, with a distaff adorned with a gold ball set with precious stones, walking slowly and majestically along the Nevski Prospect, topping the crow r d by a head and evoking general amazement by his athletic shoulders and bull's neck.
But when the news spread that Ivanushka was a frequent visitor of the Tsaritsa, and that he was very intimate with the house of Countess Kleinmichel, where mysterious nocturnal services were held, during which "Christ appeared," the indignation in the capital was so intense that the gluttonous monk was obliged to disappear from the hospitable banks of the Neva.
In the year 1910 there appeared in the capital an old wanton who, with skilful impudence, advertised herself as "the incarnate mother of God," claiming a husband, Joseph, and a son, Jesus. Crowds flocked to the Madonna, who healed the sick and comforted the distressed, sprinkling them with the water of the Neva or merely touching them with her hand. People kissed her feet and her robes, and contributed rich offerings, which the thrifty old woman saved up to buy land and houses in the provinces.
A campaign which the clergy and some organs of the press launched against her was suddenly stopped. The police, the censor, and the Holy Synod explained to the zealous popes and editors that an attack on the "Mother of God" is unseemly because … she was honoured with an audience of the Empress in a private house!
For several years afterwards the "Madonna" continued her activity unhindered, till one of her visitors, a person of some standing, was robbed. Police inquiries proved that "the hand lifted up to bless" had taken an active part in the theft, together with that of the husband, Joseph. The case was not brought before Court, but the religious adventuress was obliged to withdraw from the capital.
Another illuminating instance was furnished by the Prior of the Orthodox cathedral of Kronstadt, Ivan Siergieyewich Kiyin, known as Ivan of Kronstadt I met him several times.
He was a cunning, nervous, and clever priest, who knew how to enthral the masses with his prayers and preachings, to sway those who turned to him for advice with his word or a glance of his eyes. He was a master of hypnotism, of suggestion, and could submit to his will single individuals as well as whole multitudes.
He would have remained a goodly spiritual father and a zealous priest, but for a bigoted and crafty old woman, the wife of a wealthy merchant, Gulayeva, the friend of Pobedonoscev and of several officials of the Imperial Court.
She succeeded in rousing the interest of powerful members of the Court camarilla in the young priest, and soon she proposed to Ivan a deal. Gulayeva was to become the manager, Ivan—perhaps unconsciously—the actor; he was to employ his talents as a priest and preacher; she was to exploit the gullible public.
The enterprise was launched successfully. After a year had passed people were talking everywhere of the "Miraculous healings," revelations, prophecies, and "resurrections" of the dead wrought by Ivan of Kronstadt.
Money, honours, high connections and influence were the reward of these mighty deeds.
"The Holy Man—the Prophet of God," was proclaimed aloud.
The objections and jealousy of the clergy were overruled by Tsar Alexander III, who worshipped Ivan, and on his death-bed sent for him to receive the blessings and to kiss the hands of the wonder-worker in pious ecstasy.
When, after the Tsar's death, Gulayeva tried to enlarge her business by raising the rank of her client and spread abroad that Ivan was the "Messiah," who for the second time had descended upon the earth, the clergy rose against such blasphemy, and it was only the protection of the Dowager-Empress that saved him from any other punishment than being relegated to Kronstadt, and enjoined to mind the business of the cathedral, not to work miracles, and not to claim kinship with God.
Soon afterwards he died, and the untiring Gulayeva began to advertise the miracles wrought upon the grave of the saint. This new enterprise was carried on until October 1917, when the Bolsheviks put an end to her trade by destroying his grave and casting his remains into the sea.
Numbers of the nobility had considered it a great honour to receive the "holy father" in their palaces. For this privilege they paid Gulayeva a fee of five hundred roubles, and waited sometimes months for their turn to enjoy the blessing of his presence.
Such was the Russian fashion of "Christian mysticism," while at the same time close by was celebrated the "feast of the fiends."
It was an obsession of secret worship, a diseased enthusiasm for "black and white thaumaturgy," and neither an innocent diversion nor a scientific investigation.
The most realistic political game or the most vital intrigue on a grand scale was often played behind the scene. There was nothing of pagan rite in it.
I mentioned once before that I was coaching the son of an official of the house of Prince Leuchtenberg, a cousin of the Tsar.
I met there many high dignitaries of the Imperial Court, and one of them invited me to his home. A newly-arrived Paris celebrity was to be there—the famous king of occultists, "Professor" Papus.
The seance was not a success. Some vague glimmers of light, some murmurs and noises, some cold touches—that was all that this "Mahatma" could achieve. I saw many much more interesting phenomena in the occult and spiritist circles in Paris, and later on in Central Asia.
But after a few days I learned many sensational things.
In the palace of one of the most influential of the Grand Dukes, and in the presence of the Tsar and the Tsaritsa, Papus conjured up the apparition of the spirit of one of the dead Tsars, who called upon his successor to embark on a policy hostile to Berlin, to make war on Germany, and to be on his guard against the policy of Count Witte and the influence of an "unknown" but powerful and beautiful woman, In whom all the people present saw … the Princess of Hesse, Empress of Russia.
After this bold, and even for Russia too obvious, intrigue, Papus was obliged to leave the country in great haste, never to return. After him came other Buddhist and masonic agents, and continued the policy of their master on a smaller scale, in a more cautious manner.
Equally mysterious, though less influential, was one Onore, for some time an obscure Siberian official, who had studied several years the shamanism of the Altay natives, and finally started his own practice, which consisted of nothing but personal and collective hypnotism.
Soon the fame of his miraculous cures of nervous diseases reached the larger Siberian towns, and numerous parties of patients came to consult Onore, The latter grasped quickly that Siberia was too small for him, and he went to Petersburg. Here at first he healed the poor from charity, as it seemed, and he made himself a great name. After a time he received wealthy people who paid him high fees. Then the Medical Council interfered, and prohibited his practice on the ground that the hypnotist had no medical education. However, this intervention had little effect, and he exercised his remunerative gifts among ever increasing circles without fear of the authorities, although several accidents dangerous to the health and even the life of patients occurred in his consulting-rooms.
For the usual thing happened. Some personages of the Imperial Court, who were always quick to exploit the Tsaritsa's interest in mysticism and the secret sciences, engaged him just as they had Rasputin, Papus, Daryushka, "Klikushka," Ivan the Barefooted, and other "godly men,"
Onore was introduced into the Rasputin group, the leader of which was Countess Ignatieva, and the guide into the apartments of the Tsarskoye Selo Palace was the untiring "specialist on saints and fiends," the Prince Putiatin.
From this moment Onore became the welcome guest of the most reactionary drawing-room sets in Tsarskoye Selo, where he hypnotised the Tsaritsa, and attended to her during her nervous attacks.
In Petersburg and Moscow several people were known as priests and priestesses of the "devil worship" (Diabolism). Amongst them were two Orthodox priests, several men of letters, three variety artistes, and a General Shuman. Strange tales were told of the abomination of the "black mass" and of the diabolic orgies of the Satanists, similar to those recounted about the "Club of Sixty-nine Ladies," the intimate rendezvous of ladies and gentlemen on Odd Thursdays or "innocent Mondays," about a whole series of psychological and psychic groups, clubs, societies, and gatherings.
Opium, hashish, cocaine, alcohol were all indulged in; religion was the worship of spiritual disease, as it is before the downfall of nations and empires.
The mad "feast during pest" was held secretly in magnificent palaces, and with each year it became ever more obvious that a tremendous catastrophe must ensue, with all its terrors. The crash came on October 17, 1917, when the people, the soldiers, and alien agents fell upon the nobles. The mad hatred of the mob then turned against the intelligentsia, which passed away without a trace, leaving the Russian people deprived of its moral leaders.
Crowds of unknown individuals, some with a doubtful past, had a free entrance within their gates. Vagrant monks and nuns from distant monasteries and convents, brought for show to the curious and for prayer to the pious, wonderful relics, similar to the "piece of the ladder" which Jacob saw in his sleep, according to an anecdote from the time of Paul I, or the "legs of the holy martyrs Boris and Gleb." They kept telling of wonderful miracles on the graves of many, not yet canonised, saints, they celebrated masses accojding to an unknown rite, perhaps of some nonexistent monasteries and churches. There were epileptics and hysterical women who, during the attacks of illness, foretold future events and tendered political advice. Just like the famous "klikusha"[1] Daryushka, an agent of Rasputin, Prince Putiatin, and the Commander of Imperial Headquarters, General Woyeykov, warned the Tsaritsa against the Minister of Education, Count Ignatiev, who was an opponent of German policy, and against the famous lady-in-waiting, Mrs. Wasilchikova, the author of the notorious letter to the Tsaritsa, reminding the Princess of Hesse that she was Empress of all Russia.
The well-fed, white-bearded, bald monk, "Ivanushka the Barefooted," with his red legs and his toes always carefully pedicured, amazed and piqued the educated public of Petersburg, when seen bare-footed, in a black cassock, with a distaff adorned with a gold ball set with precious stones, walking slowly and majestically along the Nevski Prospect, topping the crow r d by a head and evoking general amazement by his athletic shoulders and bull's neck.
But when the news spread that Ivanushka was a frequent visitor of the Tsaritsa, and that he was very intimate with the house of Countess Kleinmichel, where mysterious nocturnal services were held, during which "Christ appeared," the indignation in the capital was so intense that the gluttonous monk was obliged to disappear from the hospitable banks of the Neva.
In the year 1910 there appeared in the capital an old wanton who, with skilful impudence, advertised herself as "the incarnate mother of God," claiming a husband, Joseph, and a son, Jesus. Crowds flocked to the Madonna, who healed the sick and comforted the distressed, sprinkling them with the water of the Neva or merely touching them with her hand. People kissed her feet and her robes, and contributed rich offerings, which the thrifty old woman saved up to buy land and houses in the provinces.
A campaign which the clergy and some organs of the press launched against her was suddenly stopped. The police, the censor, and the Holy Synod explained to the zealous popes and editors that an attack on the "Mother of God" is unseemly because … she was honoured with an audience of the Empress in a private house!
For several years afterwards the "Madonna" continued her activity unhindered, till one of her visitors, a person of some standing, was robbed. Police inquiries proved that "the hand lifted up to bless" had taken an active part in the theft, together with that of the husband, Joseph. The case was not brought before Court, but the religious adventuress was obliged to withdraw from the capital.
Another illuminating instance was furnished by the Prior of the Orthodox cathedral of Kronstadt, Ivan Siergieyewich Kiyin, known as Ivan of Kronstadt I met him several times.
He was a cunning, nervous, and clever priest, who knew how to enthral the masses with his prayers and preachings, to sway those who turned to him for advice with his word or a glance of his eyes. He was a master of hypnotism, of suggestion, and could submit to his will single individuals as well as whole multitudes.
He would have remained a goodly spiritual father and a zealous priest, but for a bigoted and crafty old woman, the wife of a wealthy merchant, Gulayeva, the friend of Pobedonoscev and of several officials of the Imperial Court.
She succeeded in rousing the interest of powerful members of the Court camarilla in the young priest, and soon she proposed to Ivan a deal. Gulayeva was to become the manager, Ivan—perhaps unconsciously—the actor; he was to employ his talents as a priest and preacher; she was to exploit the gullible public.
The enterprise was launched successfully. After a year had passed people were talking everywhere of the "Miraculous healings," revelations, prophecies, and "resurrections" of the dead wrought by Ivan of Kronstadt.
Money, honours, high connections and influence were the reward of these mighty deeds.
"The Holy Man—the Prophet of God," was proclaimed aloud.
The objections and jealousy of the clergy were overruled by Tsar Alexander III, who worshipped Ivan, and on his death-bed sent for him to receive the blessings and to kiss the hands of the wonder-worker in pious ecstasy.
When, after the Tsar's death, Gulayeva tried to enlarge her business by raising the rank of her client and spread abroad that Ivan was the "Messiah," who for the second time had descended upon the earth, the clergy rose against such blasphemy, and it was only the protection of the Dowager-Empress that saved him from any other punishment than being relegated to Kronstadt, and enjoined to mind the business of the cathedral, not to work miracles, and not to claim kinship with God.
Soon afterwards he died, and the untiring Gulayeva began to advertise the miracles wrought upon the grave of the saint. This new enterprise was carried on until October 1917, when the Bolsheviks put an end to her trade by destroying his grave and casting his remains into the sea.
Numbers of the nobility had considered it a great honour to receive the "holy father" in their palaces. For this privilege they paid Gulayeva a fee of five hundred roubles, and waited sometimes months for their turn to enjoy the blessing of his presence.
Such was the Russian fashion of "Christian mysticism," while at the same time close by was celebrated the "feast of the fiends."
It was an obsession of secret worship, a diseased enthusiasm for "black and white thaumaturgy," and neither an innocent diversion nor a scientific investigation.
The most realistic political game or the most vital intrigue on a grand scale was often played behind the scene. There was nothing of pagan rite in it.
I mentioned once before that I was coaching the son of an official of the house of Prince Leuchtenberg, a cousin of the Tsar.
I met there many high dignitaries of the Imperial Court, and one of them invited me to his home. A newly-arrived Paris celebrity was to be there—the famous king of occultists, "Professor" Papus.
The seance was not a success. Some vague glimmers of light, some murmurs and noises, some cold touches—that was all that this "Mahatma" could achieve. I saw many much more interesting phenomena in the occult and spiritist circles in Paris, and later on in Central Asia.
But after a few days I learned many sensational things.
In the palace of one of the most influential of the Grand Dukes, and in the presence of the Tsar and the Tsaritsa, Papus conjured up the apparition of the spirit of one of the dead Tsars, who called upon his successor to embark on a policy hostile to Berlin, to make war on Germany, and to be on his guard against the policy of Count Witte and the influence of an "unknown" but powerful and beautiful woman, In whom all the people present saw … the Princess of Hesse, Empress of Russia.
After this bold, and even for Russia too obvious, intrigue, Papus was obliged to leave the country in great haste, never to return. After him came other Buddhist and masonic agents, and continued the policy of their master on a smaller scale, in a more cautious manner.
Equally mysterious, though less influential, was one Onore, for some time an obscure Siberian official, who had studied several years the shamanism of the Altay natives, and finally started his own practice, which consisted of nothing but personal and collective hypnotism.
Soon the fame of his miraculous cures of nervous diseases reached the larger Siberian towns, and numerous parties of patients came to consult Onore, The latter grasped quickly that Siberia was too small for him, and he went to Petersburg. Here at first he healed the poor from charity, as it seemed, and he made himself a great name. After a time he received wealthy people who paid him high fees. Then the Medical Council interfered, and prohibited his practice on the ground that the hypnotist had no medical education. However, this intervention had little effect, and he exercised his remunerative gifts among ever increasing circles without fear of the authorities, although several accidents dangerous to the health and even the life of patients occurred in his consulting-rooms.
For the usual thing happened. Some personages of the Imperial Court, who were always quick to exploit the Tsaritsa's interest in mysticism and the secret sciences, engaged him just as they had Rasputin, Papus, Daryushka, "Klikushka," Ivan the Barefooted, and other "godly men,"
Onore was introduced into the Rasputin group, the leader of which was Countess Ignatieva, and the guide into the apartments of the Tsarskoye Selo Palace was the untiring "specialist on saints and fiends," the Prince Putiatin.
From this moment Onore became the welcome guest of the most reactionary drawing-room sets in Tsarskoye Selo, where he hypnotised the Tsaritsa, and attended to her during her nervous attacks.
In Petersburg and Moscow several people were known as priests and priestesses of the "devil worship" (Diabolism). Amongst them were two Orthodox priests, several men of letters, three variety artistes, and a General Shuman. Strange tales were told of the abomination of the "black mass" and of the diabolic orgies of the Satanists, similar to those recounted about the "Club of Sixty-nine Ladies," the intimate rendezvous of ladies and gentlemen on Odd Thursdays or "innocent Mondays," about a whole series of psychological and psychic groups, clubs, societies, and gatherings.
Opium, hashish, cocaine, alcohol were all indulged in; religion was the worship of spiritual disease, as it is before the downfall of nations and empires.
The mad "feast during pest" was held secretly in magnificent palaces, and with each year it became ever more obvious that a tremendous catastrophe must ensue, with all its terrors. The crash came on October 17, 1917, when the people, the soldiers, and alien agents fell upon the nobles. The mad hatred of the mob then turned against the intelligentsia, which passed away without a trace, leaving the Russian people deprived of its moral leaders.
Everybody knows about Rasputin, a former petty criminal and fornicator, who pushed his daughter Maria to marry the son of the treasurer of the Holy Synod of the Russian Orthodox Church- Boris Soloviev, a practitioner of dark arts, who studied the writings of Madame Blavatsky, and dabbled in spiritism.
Rasputin's ill reputation was corroborated by initially unconvinced Pierre Gilliard, the tutor of tsarevich Alexei. Rasputin is a nickname derived from the word rasputnik- meaning loose or debauched. Some Orthodox consider him a saint. He was brought to the court by close friends of tsarina Alexandra with a personal recommendation from Archimandrite Theophanes. Rasputin confident of his position returned to his old ways of womanizing. In time, his old supporter bishop Hermogenes became his nemesis, but was exiled to a monastery. Archimandrite Theophanes, now also an enemy of Rasputin, was sent away to the Taurida Oblast. Rasputin had to go to Jerusalem, disappear for a while to calm down the storm around him, but remained in contact with the imperial family, and retained his influence.
The Tsar was canonized by the schismatic (as viewed from Russia) Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia in 1981, and by the Moscow Patriarch on Putin's insistence in 2000. There were fears of an internal schism- the God Emperor faction who saw the Tsar as a sacrificial victim could break away if no action was taken.
During the fiery, obstinate struggles of the reactionary forces with those of the revolution, in which both reaction and revolution overlooked the arrival of a new common foe—Communism—there appeared on the political horizon of Russia phantoms which one would think could be born only in the imagination of the creator of the Apocalypse.
One of the first was the former horse-thief, drunkard and profligate, Grishka Rasputin. The very name of Rasputin, which means "profligate," seemed, however, to contradict the part which the mysterious adventurer played and with the by-names which he soon acquired, such as "the holy old man," "spiritual father," "wonder-worker," "giver of bliss," etc.
An illiterate peasant from the province of Tobolsk, a habitual drunkard, Rasputin engaged with a band of gipsies in horse-stealing, and was many a time pursued by the peasants and police. At last one day, after an unsuccessful expedition, he was nearly captured, but escaping at the last moment, he hid in a secluded monastery, whose Prior was the severe ascetic, but psychically abnormal Pimen.
While in the monastery Brother Gregor learnt a little curing and writing, but was not admitted to priesthood because of his lack of all education, and also because of his unrestrained habits.
Veritable legends were told of the romantic excursions Rasputin undertook into the neighbouring villages, of his success with women, and of his genius in addressing different people in a different and most impressive manner.
When the Prior Pimen felt the need of monetary succour he usually sent Rasputin to the rich and Godfearing Tobolsk and Tartar merchants. Rasputin always knew how to persuade them into munificence, and this made the profligate "little brother" highly esteemed with the claustral community, who employed him as their diplomatic envoy to the world without.
However, stories of Grishka's ebriety, gambling, and profligacy arrived from all quarters. People spoke of unheard-of orgies arranged by the "little brother" after every successful diplomatic enterprise for money for the monastery; people spoke of his share in the bold incursions of burglars beyond the Urals.
One day the news came that during one of his love excursions in a village a fight ensued, and that Grishka knifed one of the peasants. After this he did not return to the monastery, but in the disguise of a monk wandered a long time in Siberia, till he reached the Volga. Here he soon acquired fame as a "saint," "God's man," among the elderly women devotees of the rich merchant class.
Of course, it was impossible to deny that this man possessed some extraordinary powers, his wild, catlike, glowing eyes seemed to pierce into the brains of men, to enter into their very souls.
He could size up every man at the first glance. He had an intuitive insight into human beings, their characters, psychology, and desires. Besides, he was a powerful hypnotiser, had an irresistible power of suggestion, and exercised his influence equally upon individual persons as upon great assemblies. He had the force of authority and conviction in his voice, a dull-sounding, threatening voice resembling the gloomy murmur of a virgin Siberian forest, in which he spent his romantic and stormy youth.
I remember boarding a tramcar in Petersburg. It was early in the morning, and there were only few people about. I was immersed in my newspaper, when all of a sudden I felt almost physically something like a strange blow on my head. I looked up quickly, and I met the eyes of a tall, lean man with an ascetic, immovable face. He was richly dressed in a magnificent sable fur coat and cap, but the fashion of his dress was strange, and looked like a cassock. I was at a loss as to his identity, seeing that he had top-boots, and under the fur coat I noticed, when he opened it to draw out a handkerchief, an ordinary Russian shirt of red silk. Again I felt compelled to look into the eyes of the strange man. Suddenly I noticed with a beating heart that those eyes vanished, and in their stead crossed and shot forth radiant beams, concealing his eyes and a part of his face.
Suddenly his eyes appeared again, and round his lips played a disdainful, scoffing smile. I understood that he tested his hypnotic power on me. I decided not to look at him any more, and I succeeded in my resolve. Leaving the car, I had to pass the stranger. He touched my arm and said:
"I know you're a journalist. And you don't want to look at me? Why? I am Rasputin, Gregor Rasputin, the 'man of God.'"
Such was my first encounter. The second was semimystical. There was an exhibition at the Academy of Fine Arts in Petersburg, where crowds were thronging and pressing in front of a sad, unfinished picture of the well-known Russian painter, Nicolai Rayevski. The picture represented the portrait of a tall, lean man in a black, semi-ecclesiastical habit, a thin, emaciated face, with long black hair falling down the forehead, and a dishevelled black beard. The picture was marked in the catalogue: "No. 144. The Portrait of an Unknown Man."
But the attention of the crowd was riveted, not by the habit, the face and the black hair, not even by the undefined mysteriousness of the portrait. One and all were looking into the black, piercing eyes, vivid and watchful, like the eyes of an animal preparing for a sudden and dangerous assault. When in turn I looked, approaching the portrait, the eyes vanished behind the radiant veil which emerged from the mysterious black profundity of those piercing pupils.
"It's not a man, it's the devil," said someone among the spectators.
"It's Rasputin!" explained another. "What do you want?"
"The impure power," whispered a pious lady.
"The powerful, holy man of God!" protested immediately several voices.
The crowd dispersed. New visitors took their place.
My third encounter with Rasputin was amidst fatal circumstances.
A reporter of the paper which I edited telephoned through to me that Rasputin had been killed, and that the authorities were searching for his body. After a few hours I learned that the body was found. I went to the spot at once. Just before I arrived the corpse was lifted through a hole cut In the ice on the Little Neva River. He was dressed in a magnificent fur coat and a black silk shirt; on one leg I noticed a high jute snow-shoe upon a patent leather boot His head was bare. His face was smashed, one eye injured, and his throat bore signs of strangling fingers. He was the victim of political, perhaps personal vengeance, sprung on him by the Grand Duke Dimitri, Count Sumarokov-Elston, and the Deputy to the Duma Vladimir Purishkevich.
The artist Rayevski, who painted Rasputin—at the request of the Empress Alexandra, his portrait was removed from the exhibition on the first day—was very interested in the mysterious personality, and told me a great deal about the "man of God." It was clear from what he said that Rasputin must have exercised an irresistible charm on women. That ruthless man managed to penetrate into the boudoirs of the most distinguished titled ladies in Petersburg with the same facility with which he philandered in the modest apartments of the elderly widows of the merchant class, or with the variety stars in the Villa Rode. He could be enrapturing, fiery, overwhelming. He used often to say:
"Woman is created for the pleasure and glory of man!"
Pious people asserted that Rasputin had an unmatched talent for prayers. He said his prayers in simple, uncultured words, but with burning passion, poetry, and inspiration. It seemed as if he would behold the very face of God, to Whom he was speaking in human, simple, and comprehensible words. The nervous shivering of his shoulders, the spasmodic voice, the facial mimicry full of pain and penetrating imploration, the fire, and the tears of his eyes made a terrifying impression on the pious, mystically moved spectators. The dull, threatening voice of the old thief rose to such a power of tune, resounded with such passionate force that it seemed as if by the lips of this man somebody else, pure and full of bliss, was uttering life-saving words of Eternal Grace.
He turned from time to time towards the Holy Picture, outstretched his hands, and spoke in tones imploring and commanding:
"Turn Thine eyes upon us and give a sign that Thou hearest me!"
And the man praying seemed to perceive the eyes of the Holy Image moving and gazing upon the crowd.
Rayevski told me that one afternoon when Rasputin was sitting for his portrait, a well-known nobleman drove up in his car to the painter's studio, and rushing in, fell on his knees in front of Rasputin with the words:
"Father! My brother is dying! Help!"
Rasputin got up at once, and forgetting his fur coat, ran down the staircase murmuring:
"Lord! Oh Lord! Creator of all life, grant me to arrive in time!"
Arrived at the palace, Rasputin found an elderly man in a terrible state of asthma, which was still further endangered by a heart attack. The sick man had already lost consciousness. Rasputin looked a long time into his face, and then exclaimed, or rather howled like a terrified dog in a winter's night:
"Why dost thou not call for help to our Lord? Why dost thou not ask Him: 'Deliver me from my disease, and give me, O Creator, the strength to praise Thy name in glory?' Awake, and repeat these words of my prayer! Awake!"
"Can you imagine," said Rayevski, "the Count actually moved, opened his amazed eyes, pressed his hand to his heart, and repeated the short and not quite common prayer word for word. I was really astonished!"
Another of my Russian friends, the well-known poet and critic, A. A. Izmailov, told me his own experience once.
"I succeeded with great difficulty in getting at Rasputin; I wanted to interview him, but I was careful to tell him through the servant that I wanted to speak to him about our mutual friends from the Volga. When I entered his room he was seated in a comfortable chair. He measured me with an inquiring eye and with a forbearing smile, said:
"'A journalist! Why do you try to deceive me?'
"He stopped short I kept silent, knowing his hatred of journalists, who had annoyed him much in the past. Besides, his words had embarrassed me strongly and I could not say anything.
"'I shall not talk about any of my affairs to you,' said Rasputin after a long while, 'but I want to speak of you. Death passed over your head when you were eleven years old. I can see it plainly. Tell me how it happened.'
"Of course" related Izmailov, "when I was eleven I went with my brother to try to shoot a hare. My brother was to do the shooting and I was to do the beating. I had scarcely entered the garden-bed when I tumbled over a root and fell to the ground. This saved my life, for at the very moment the hare jumped tip; my brother fired, and the shot went over my head, which was protected by the high bed.
"When I finished my story, Rasputin said:
"'Beware of a narrow street in which stands a house of red brick and two turrets. Remember it and go now.'"
I don't know if Izmailov heeded the warning or not. I lost sight of him when he remained in Soviet Russia, and it is quite possible that he perished in its bloody whirl.
Alfred Rodé, the owner of the notorious villa, and some officers of the late Imperial Guard told me of the orgies arranged by Rasputin, of their lasciviousness, cynicism, and vulgarity. He often let himself go, offending his guests, laughing at their opinions and their manners. Once, whilst boasting of his intimate relations with the Imperial Court, he showed his richly embroidered silk shirt, and chuckling with laughter, said swaggering:
"It's Shashka's work." Shashka being the Empress's pet name.
There followed a great scandal. One of the officers jumped at the "man of God," and in the free fight which ensued wounded him with a bottle.
Rasputin was reputed to be aware of the attempts contrived against him; he escaped several of them, and he knew that a sudden end awaited him, and he lived in mortal fright. Once, in an attack of that terrible longing which befell him in the expectancy o death, while sitting at the bedside of the Empress, who, surrounded by her daughters, was writhing in pain, he called out in ecstasy:
"Not a hair of yours shall fall to the ground as long as my pictures and dress shall be with you!"
It must have been true, because about the middle of 1916, after an attempt on Rasputin, the photographer Ocup received the order to call on him and to make seven large portraits of the "Old Man"—the Tsar's family consisted of seven members—to perform all the operations in the presence of Rasputin's secretary to whom the plates were also to be handed over.
At the same time news spread from the Tsarskoye Selo Palace which amazed everybody. One learnt that after a long conversation with the Empress and her daughters, Rasputin left the apartments of Alexandra in tears, and went into his room, where he changed his dress, to return afterwards carrying his black silk shirt torn into seven pieces.
His power rested upon mysticism, the exploitation of momentary moods, forebodings of an impending debacle, and the skilful handling of situations as they arose.
In Siberia, where Grishka was hated, to-day already, during the Bolshevist regime, people whisper:
"Rasputin was a dog, but. a strong, supernatural man. He foretold the Emperor Nicholas's black days that should follow his own death, and so it happened. He foretold that the Romanovs would live as long as they should have with them his pictures and bits of his shirt—and they lived until the Commissar Yurovsky took all this away from them, when they were murdered. Strong, uncanny was Grishka! Antichrist! The servant of the devil!"
Several attempts were made on Rasputin's life, but without success. Two of them were most dangerous. One in Siberia, when the monk, Heliodor, sent a half-demented peasant woman, who inflicted several wounds on him with her knife. The wounds were rather serious, but Rasputin lived.
Another time, when he travelled in sledges from Petersburg to Tsarskoye Selo together with Madame Wyrubova, the Empress's lady-in-waiting, the sledges were upset by an unknown motor-car, which succeeded in effecting its escape. Madame Wyrubova was seriously hurt, but Rasputin only slightly bruised.
At the head of the organisation which combated Rasputin were the Moscow Metropolitan Makar, the Bishop of Samara Pimen, and the monk Heliodor, supported by a band of influential and rich men belonging to the Nationalist circles.
After the last and successful attempt on the life of the spiritual director, the despondency of the Empress and her daughters was limitless. They even went into mourning for him. The body was buried in a magnificent chapel erected for the purpose In the Park of Tsarskoye Selo. Daily pilgrimages of the Tsar's family to the "Old Man's" grave proved the genuine and profound sorrow for the "holy father," whose life was so mysteriously bound up with the fate of the dynasty.
Speaking of the mysterious ties which existed between the Romanov dynasty and Gregor Rasputin, I remember a legend which was very popular in old Moscow and particularly alive during the war of 1812, after Napoleon's conquest of the Kremlin.
When the Romanov dynasty, in the person of the youthful Tsar Nicolai Teodorovich, was elected to the Russian throne, the solemnity was held in the Ipatiev Monastery, built by the Ipatiev, a rich family of traders in Kostroma. During the procession one of the epileptics of the name Grishka became mad and started to shout prognostications:
"The house of Romanovs will reign long centuries over us. It will attain glory and power. It will perish tinder the Ipatiev roof after 'Grishka'!"
The history of the dynasty corresponds with this augury, which was at first incomprehensible to its contemporaries.
The dynasty reigned for more than three hundred years, achieved glory and power, and perished after Grishka (Rasputin) under the roof of the Ipatiev's in Yekaterinburg, where the descendants of the founders of the Ipatiev Monastery were removed from Kostroma.
In 1812 there appeared in Moscow a "prophet" Grishka, who foretold the fall of Russia and the Imperial dynasty. It was then that people remembered the legend, all the more as Russian troops retreated in the presence of the Tsar in part towards Kostroma. The Police Commissioner of Moscow, hearing of Grishka's prophecies, had him captured and flogged to death.
Grishka's prophecy of a "God's man" and "epileptic," pronounced two centuries earlier, were revived for more than a hundred years, only to become true in a more terrible and sinister manner after Grishka, a "God's man" according to the beliefs of the Court and some Russian aristocrats of the twentieth century.
One of the first was the former horse-thief, drunkard and profligate, Grishka Rasputin. The very name of Rasputin, which means "profligate," seemed, however, to contradict the part which the mysterious adventurer played and with the by-names which he soon acquired, such as "the holy old man," "spiritual father," "wonder-worker," "giver of bliss," etc.
An illiterate peasant from the province of Tobolsk, a habitual drunkard, Rasputin engaged with a band of gipsies in horse-stealing, and was many a time pursued by the peasants and police. At last one day, after an unsuccessful expedition, he was nearly captured, but escaping at the last moment, he hid in a secluded monastery, whose Prior was the severe ascetic, but psychically abnormal Pimen.
While in the monastery Brother Gregor learnt a little curing and writing, but was not admitted to priesthood because of his lack of all education, and also because of his unrestrained habits.
Veritable legends were told of the romantic excursions Rasputin undertook into the neighbouring villages, of his success with women, and of his genius in addressing different people in a different and most impressive manner.
When the Prior Pimen felt the need of monetary succour he usually sent Rasputin to the rich and Godfearing Tobolsk and Tartar merchants. Rasputin always knew how to persuade them into munificence, and this made the profligate "little brother" highly esteemed with the claustral community, who employed him as their diplomatic envoy to the world without.
However, stories of Grishka's ebriety, gambling, and profligacy arrived from all quarters. People spoke of unheard-of orgies arranged by the "little brother" after every successful diplomatic enterprise for money for the monastery; people spoke of his share in the bold incursions of burglars beyond the Urals.
One day the news came that during one of his love excursions in a village a fight ensued, and that Grishka knifed one of the peasants. After this he did not return to the monastery, but in the disguise of a monk wandered a long time in Siberia, till he reached the Volga. Here he soon acquired fame as a "saint," "God's man," among the elderly women devotees of the rich merchant class.
Of course, it was impossible to deny that this man possessed some extraordinary powers, his wild, catlike, glowing eyes seemed to pierce into the brains of men, to enter into their very souls.
He could size up every man at the first glance. He had an intuitive insight into human beings, their characters, psychology, and desires. Besides, he was a powerful hypnotiser, had an irresistible power of suggestion, and exercised his influence equally upon individual persons as upon great assemblies. He had the force of authority and conviction in his voice, a dull-sounding, threatening voice resembling the gloomy murmur of a virgin Siberian forest, in which he spent his romantic and stormy youth.
I remember boarding a tramcar in Petersburg. It was early in the morning, and there were only few people about. I was immersed in my newspaper, when all of a sudden I felt almost physically something like a strange blow on my head. I looked up quickly, and I met the eyes of a tall, lean man with an ascetic, immovable face. He was richly dressed in a magnificent sable fur coat and cap, but the fashion of his dress was strange, and looked like a cassock. I was at a loss as to his identity, seeing that he had top-boots, and under the fur coat I noticed, when he opened it to draw out a handkerchief, an ordinary Russian shirt of red silk. Again I felt compelled to look into the eyes of the strange man. Suddenly I noticed with a beating heart that those eyes vanished, and in their stead crossed and shot forth radiant beams, concealing his eyes and a part of his face.
Suddenly his eyes appeared again, and round his lips played a disdainful, scoffing smile. I understood that he tested his hypnotic power on me. I decided not to look at him any more, and I succeeded in my resolve. Leaving the car, I had to pass the stranger. He touched my arm and said:
"I know you're a journalist. And you don't want to look at me? Why? I am Rasputin, Gregor Rasputin, the 'man of God.'"
Such was my first encounter. The second was semimystical. There was an exhibition at the Academy of Fine Arts in Petersburg, where crowds were thronging and pressing in front of a sad, unfinished picture of the well-known Russian painter, Nicolai Rayevski. The picture represented the portrait of a tall, lean man in a black, semi-ecclesiastical habit, a thin, emaciated face, with long black hair falling down the forehead, and a dishevelled black beard. The picture was marked in the catalogue: "No. 144. The Portrait of an Unknown Man."
But the attention of the crowd was riveted, not by the habit, the face and the black hair, not even by the undefined mysteriousness of the portrait. One and all were looking into the black, piercing eyes, vivid and watchful, like the eyes of an animal preparing for a sudden and dangerous assault. When in turn I looked, approaching the portrait, the eyes vanished behind the radiant veil which emerged from the mysterious black profundity of those piercing pupils.
"It's not a man, it's the devil," said someone among the spectators.
"It's Rasputin!" explained another. "What do you want?"
"The impure power," whispered a pious lady.
"The powerful, holy man of God!" protested immediately several voices.
The crowd dispersed. New visitors took their place.
My third encounter with Rasputin was amidst fatal circumstances.
A reporter of the paper which I edited telephoned through to me that Rasputin had been killed, and that the authorities were searching for his body. After a few hours I learned that the body was found. I went to the spot at once. Just before I arrived the corpse was lifted through a hole cut In the ice on the Little Neva River. He was dressed in a magnificent fur coat and a black silk shirt; on one leg I noticed a high jute snow-shoe upon a patent leather boot His head was bare. His face was smashed, one eye injured, and his throat bore signs of strangling fingers. He was the victim of political, perhaps personal vengeance, sprung on him by the Grand Duke Dimitri, Count Sumarokov-Elston, and the Deputy to the Duma Vladimir Purishkevich.
The artist Rayevski, who painted Rasputin—at the request of the Empress Alexandra, his portrait was removed from the exhibition on the first day—was very interested in the mysterious personality, and told me a great deal about the "man of God." It was clear from what he said that Rasputin must have exercised an irresistible charm on women. That ruthless man managed to penetrate into the boudoirs of the most distinguished titled ladies in Petersburg with the same facility with which he philandered in the modest apartments of the elderly widows of the merchant class, or with the variety stars in the Villa Rode. He could be enrapturing, fiery, overwhelming. He used often to say:
"Woman is created for the pleasure and glory of man!"
Pious people asserted that Rasputin had an unmatched talent for prayers. He said his prayers in simple, uncultured words, but with burning passion, poetry, and inspiration. It seemed as if he would behold the very face of God, to Whom he was speaking in human, simple, and comprehensible words. The nervous shivering of his shoulders, the spasmodic voice, the facial mimicry full of pain and penetrating imploration, the fire, and the tears of his eyes made a terrifying impression on the pious, mystically moved spectators. The dull, threatening voice of the old thief rose to such a power of tune, resounded with such passionate force that it seemed as if by the lips of this man somebody else, pure and full of bliss, was uttering life-saving words of Eternal Grace.
He turned from time to time towards the Holy Picture, outstretched his hands, and spoke in tones imploring and commanding:
"Turn Thine eyes upon us and give a sign that Thou hearest me!"
And the man praying seemed to perceive the eyes of the Holy Image moving and gazing upon the crowd.
Rayevski told me that one afternoon when Rasputin was sitting for his portrait, a well-known nobleman drove up in his car to the painter's studio, and rushing in, fell on his knees in front of Rasputin with the words:
"Father! My brother is dying! Help!"
Rasputin got up at once, and forgetting his fur coat, ran down the staircase murmuring:
"Lord! Oh Lord! Creator of all life, grant me to arrive in time!"
Arrived at the palace, Rasputin found an elderly man in a terrible state of asthma, which was still further endangered by a heart attack. The sick man had already lost consciousness. Rasputin looked a long time into his face, and then exclaimed, or rather howled like a terrified dog in a winter's night:
"Why dost thou not call for help to our Lord? Why dost thou not ask Him: 'Deliver me from my disease, and give me, O Creator, the strength to praise Thy name in glory?' Awake, and repeat these words of my prayer! Awake!"
"Can you imagine," said Rayevski, "the Count actually moved, opened his amazed eyes, pressed his hand to his heart, and repeated the short and not quite common prayer word for word. I was really astonished!"
Another of my Russian friends, the well-known poet and critic, A. A. Izmailov, told me his own experience once.
"I succeeded with great difficulty in getting at Rasputin; I wanted to interview him, but I was careful to tell him through the servant that I wanted to speak to him about our mutual friends from the Volga. When I entered his room he was seated in a comfortable chair. He measured me with an inquiring eye and with a forbearing smile, said:
"'A journalist! Why do you try to deceive me?'
"He stopped short I kept silent, knowing his hatred of journalists, who had annoyed him much in the past. Besides, his words had embarrassed me strongly and I could not say anything.
"'I shall not talk about any of my affairs to you,' said Rasputin after a long while, 'but I want to speak of you. Death passed over your head when you were eleven years old. I can see it plainly. Tell me how it happened.'
"Of course" related Izmailov, "when I was eleven I went with my brother to try to shoot a hare. My brother was to do the shooting and I was to do the beating. I had scarcely entered the garden-bed when I tumbled over a root and fell to the ground. This saved my life, for at the very moment the hare jumped tip; my brother fired, and the shot went over my head, which was protected by the high bed.
"When I finished my story, Rasputin said:
"'Beware of a narrow street in which stands a house of red brick and two turrets. Remember it and go now.'"
I don't know if Izmailov heeded the warning or not. I lost sight of him when he remained in Soviet Russia, and it is quite possible that he perished in its bloody whirl.
Alfred Rodé, the owner of the notorious villa, and some officers of the late Imperial Guard told me of the orgies arranged by Rasputin, of their lasciviousness, cynicism, and vulgarity. He often let himself go, offending his guests, laughing at their opinions and their manners. Once, whilst boasting of his intimate relations with the Imperial Court, he showed his richly embroidered silk shirt, and chuckling with laughter, said swaggering:
"It's Shashka's work." Shashka being the Empress's pet name.
There followed a great scandal. One of the officers jumped at the "man of God," and in the free fight which ensued wounded him with a bottle.
Rasputin was reputed to be aware of the attempts contrived against him; he escaped several of them, and he knew that a sudden end awaited him, and he lived in mortal fright. Once, in an attack of that terrible longing which befell him in the expectancy o death, while sitting at the bedside of the Empress, who, surrounded by her daughters, was writhing in pain, he called out in ecstasy:
"Not a hair of yours shall fall to the ground as long as my pictures and dress shall be with you!"
It must have been true, because about the middle of 1916, after an attempt on Rasputin, the photographer Ocup received the order to call on him and to make seven large portraits of the "Old Man"—the Tsar's family consisted of seven members—to perform all the operations in the presence of Rasputin's secretary to whom the plates were also to be handed over.
At the same time news spread from the Tsarskoye Selo Palace which amazed everybody. One learnt that after a long conversation with the Empress and her daughters, Rasputin left the apartments of Alexandra in tears, and went into his room, where he changed his dress, to return afterwards carrying his black silk shirt torn into seven pieces.
His power rested upon mysticism, the exploitation of momentary moods, forebodings of an impending debacle, and the skilful handling of situations as they arose.
In Siberia, where Grishka was hated, to-day already, during the Bolshevist regime, people whisper:
"Rasputin was a dog, but. a strong, supernatural man. He foretold the Emperor Nicholas's black days that should follow his own death, and so it happened. He foretold that the Romanovs would live as long as they should have with them his pictures and bits of his shirt—and they lived until the Commissar Yurovsky took all this away from them, when they were murdered. Strong, uncanny was Grishka! Antichrist! The servant of the devil!"
Several attempts were made on Rasputin's life, but without success. Two of them were most dangerous. One in Siberia, when the monk, Heliodor, sent a half-demented peasant woman, who inflicted several wounds on him with her knife. The wounds were rather serious, but Rasputin lived.
Another time, when he travelled in sledges from Petersburg to Tsarskoye Selo together with Madame Wyrubova, the Empress's lady-in-waiting, the sledges were upset by an unknown motor-car, which succeeded in effecting its escape. Madame Wyrubova was seriously hurt, but Rasputin only slightly bruised.
At the head of the organisation which combated Rasputin were the Moscow Metropolitan Makar, the Bishop of Samara Pimen, and the monk Heliodor, supported by a band of influential and rich men belonging to the Nationalist circles.
After the last and successful attempt on the life of the spiritual director, the despondency of the Empress and her daughters was limitless. They even went into mourning for him. The body was buried in a magnificent chapel erected for the purpose In the Park of Tsarskoye Selo. Daily pilgrimages of the Tsar's family to the "Old Man's" grave proved the genuine and profound sorrow for the "holy father," whose life was so mysteriously bound up with the fate of the dynasty.
Speaking of the mysterious ties which existed between the Romanov dynasty and Gregor Rasputin, I remember a legend which was very popular in old Moscow and particularly alive during the war of 1812, after Napoleon's conquest of the Kremlin.
When the Romanov dynasty, in the person of the youthful Tsar Nicolai Teodorovich, was elected to the Russian throne, the solemnity was held in the Ipatiev Monastery, built by the Ipatiev, a rich family of traders in Kostroma. During the procession one of the epileptics of the name Grishka became mad and started to shout prognostications:
"The house of Romanovs will reign long centuries over us. It will attain glory and power. It will perish tinder the Ipatiev roof after 'Grishka'!"
The history of the dynasty corresponds with this augury, which was at first incomprehensible to its contemporaries.
The dynasty reigned for more than three hundred years, achieved glory and power, and perished after Grishka (Rasputin) under the roof of the Ipatiev's in Yekaterinburg, where the descendants of the founders of the Ipatiev Monastery were removed from Kostroma.
In 1812 there appeared in Moscow a "prophet" Grishka, who foretold the fall of Russia and the Imperial dynasty. It was then that people remembered the legend, all the more as Russian troops retreated in the presence of the Tsar in part towards Kostroma. The Police Commissioner of Moscow, hearing of Grishka's prophecies, had him captured and flogged to death.
Grishka's prophecy of a "God's man" and "epileptic," pronounced two centuries earlier, were revived for more than a hundred years, only to become true in a more terrible and sinister manner after Grishka, a "God's man" according to the beliefs of the Court and some Russian aristocrats of the twentieth century.
President Donald J. Trump and First Lady Melania Trump kneel in prayer at the altar in the Luminous Mysteries Chapel on June 2, 2020, at the Saint John Paul II National Shrine in Washington, D.C.:
www.worthpoint.com
DONALD TRUMP & MELANIA KNEEL IN PRAYER @ JOHN PAUL II SHRINE 8X10 PHOTO (BT353) | #4759632766
DONALD TRUMP AND MELANIA KNEEL IN PRAYER AT JOHN PAUL II SHRINE(BT-353)President Donald J. Trump and First Lady Melania Trump kneel in prayer at the altar in the Luminous Mysteries Chapel on June 2, 2
www.worthpoint.com
Shaquilleoatmeal
Protestant
Attachments
Same pattern of abuse around Sam Hyde who just did a talk with Nick Fuentes.
Apparently they're all secretly jayish, homosexual and sexual crime criminals whilst there being zero proof of any of it.
Shaquilleoatmeal
Protestant
Jayish?
