The Mysterious Alexandra Tarasova-Yusupov

by Carl Douglass

  “I know all of that, Father,” Alexandra said, “but, the holy church, in its wisdom, has taken no action against the man. I presume they look at his differences as eccentricities and not substantial. I like him and want to have the spice he can add to our gathering and to my marriage. Boris says he could care less about any of the strangeness as long as Father John remains in good standing with the church and our marriage is valid.”

  Alexandra’s statement was not entirely true. Boris had raised questions that were important to him about the Kronstadt Father’s well-known anti-Semitism, his constant talk of humility which should be practiced by the clergy and the aristocracy, and his regular articles in the far right-wing conservative newspaper Novoe Vremya [New Time] which had not met with the approval of the Most Holy Synod because it is seen as interfering with affairs of the true church. However–since the hierarchs decided there was nothing they could do–he was willing to accept Father John as well—something well short of a ringing endorsement.

  Since a wide-open invitation had been sent out to the entire oblast and well beyond, Irina planned for garden party gourmet food for several thousand people. It was well that she did because as the populace, the intelligentsia, the aristocracy, Boris’s prison officers and Balagansk city officials, the local Buryat indigenous people, Abram’s customers, and his and Alexandra’s widespread shipping commercial acquaintances, streamed through the gates of the estate. The servants and security officers soon lost count.

  A jazz orchestra brought in from Moscow played discordant notes–that none of the family recognized as music–while the people gathered. The local symphony octet played Tchaikovsky while the wedding party took their seats. The affect of the unusual music and that the wedding was more like a garden party than a real marriage in a church caused a low hum of commentary to buzz around the seated and standing guests.

  Boris, Abram, and Father John took their places at the front of the party. A wedding march of sorts—it was, strictly speaking, an old Russian wedding night song–was played by a Balalaika trio. Whether or not the conservative aristocrats, determined old ecclesiastics, and stodgy mustachioed business grandees, approved, all the young people and the majority of the crowded onlookers clapped and hooted their approval. Alexandra reveled in her success.

  She was radiant in person and dress. The wedding gown was made in Saint Petersburg by seamstresses vouched for by none other than Princess Tatiana Alexandrovna de Ribeaupierre Yusupov, a lady-in-waiting to the Empress (and mother to Prince Boris)—which was to remain a secret to the rest of the Yusupov family as long as Tati lived. The gown was gorgeous and splendid: pale gold silk overlain with bobbin tape Russian lace curving back on itself and joined using a crochet hook. The designs of the gown were abstract in form. She had puff sleeves and a scoop neck which were just coming into fashion in Saint Petersburg; the scoop showed too much in Irina’s opinion; but this was Alexandra’s day. The sleeves, collar, and hem had ruffled lace trim. The train was rather short by usual standards in Vladivostok—only two feet long, but Tatiana had insisted that this was the coming style in western Russia.

  Alexandra began her stately march down the grassy aisle accompanied by her mother and her two grand-mothers. She curtseyed to her father, her groom, and her priest, then turned and made a small bow to the assembled guests, which provoked another unseemly boisterous outburst from the young.

  Alexandra had asked Boris who he wanted as his best man. He made a most diplomatic…and genuine…choice.

  “Let it be James Matheson II,” he said without hesitation and thereby secured the good will of the taipan and the entire Jardine-Matheson conglomerate.

  Father John called out in his stentorian voice, “What man will stand here as the koumbaros, the man who will be the best friend in the wedding and one of the most important men in this young couple’s life?”

  Jamie took his place beside the groom. His father, mother, and younger brothers beamed at the wedding company and Jamie’s part in it.

  Father John explained, “The Eastern Orthodox wedding ceremony is a centuries old rite full of profound symbolism and meaning for the church, for the bridal couple, and for the families. Most rituals are performed three times to represent the Holy Trinity. Because of the sacred significance of the sacraments, Brother Matheson and I will lead Boris and Alexandra through all of them three times.

  “We will begin with the betrothal ceremony and the blessing of the rings,” Jamie said, having made a quick study of his role in the Russian Orthodox wedding ritual over the past two weeks.

  Father John recited a litany of blessings and a substantial list of passages from the Bible. He held out the two rings in his hands, declared the betrothal, and pressed the bride’s and the groom’s foreheads three times each with the rings. Jamie, the koumbaros, placed the rings on the right-hand ring fingers–third finger–three times each.

  As Jamie finished the ring ceremony, Father John handed Alexandra and Boris lit candles to be held in their left hands throughout the rest of the ceremony.

  He said, “This symbolizes your spiritual willingness to receive God’s blessings on your lives and your marriage.”

  He then had Alexandra and Boris join their right hands, symbolizing unity and gave a lengthy prayer for their oneness. As he finished praying, Jamie, as koumbaros, presented Alexandra and Boris with two floral crowns studded with semiprecious stones, shining metals, and gold threads. As they held the crowns, he tied the ends of a white ribbon to each crown and placed them on the couple’s heads signifying their unity, then switched the crowns back and forth three times as they faced the altar signifying that neither could be sure which crown was hers or his; they were the same.

  Father John intoned a serious requirement of the acceptance of the crowns, “These crowns are to remain with you as long as each of you lives. When you die, you are to be buried with your crown to show your lasting faithfulness.”

  Jamie handed Father John a gold cup two-thirds filled with red wine.

  “Drink thrice each from this common cup, my children. Hereafter, you will share everything—joys, successes, riches, sorrows, failures, and times of want. Know that you are not alone: view this as symbolic of your unity giving you double the joys and half the sorrows.”

  Father John took hold of their hands, and they circled the table three times, their first steps as a married couple. A small chorus sang three hymns. Father John blessed each of them separately and together.

  Then, in his most solemn voice, he intoned the ancient and most important phrase, “Na zisete!”, and the entire wedding assemblage echoed and exclaimed, “Na zisete!” “Na zisete!” [May you live!].

  Before Father John could say the words, Alexandra pulled Boris to her and kissed him with all her might. The entire wedding party burst out in joyful laughter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ANOTHER DISCOVERY

  And I also command you that ye keep a record of this people, according as I have done, upon the plates of Nephi, and keep all these things sacred which I have kept, even as I have kept them; for it is for a wise purpose that they are kept.

  —Book of Mormon, Book of Alma 37:32

  National Archives of Australia, Victorian Archives Centre, 99 Shiel Street, North Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, February 12, 2014

  Elder and Sister Smith had two months left on their eighteen-month mission; the Taylors had four and a half; the Clydes had six; and Elder and Sister Durrell had eight more months. They were beginning to feel something akin to separation anxiety with the deep bonds they had developed with each other. As often as it could be expressed appropriately, they each promised to keep up their friendships when they left the mission field and returned to the U.S.; but they all had some doubts about being able to keep the contacts viable, having had similar attachments on previous missions, on cruises, or when the boundaries of their local wards and stakes were changed. That bit of concern made all of them redouble their efforts to find enough more verifia
ble information about their favorite shadow from the past–Alexandra Tarasova–to establish her firmly as a once living and vibrant person.

  Close as they were with their co-religionists—people who shared like political views; they were all conservative Republicans, people whose lifestyles above and beyond their religious activities and traditions were rooted in the western United States, their inbred biases against people not like them such as the movers and shakers of Motown, Hollywood, and the gay marriage crowd—they all had a quiet longing to be back home. Moroni Clyde made an announcement that enlivened and enhanced their enthusiasm for the work they were doing.

  “Elders and Sisters, it has been a while since we found out anything really new about our Alexandra. But, yesterday, I was thinking about what we know, which isn’t all that much. She was born in Russia. Somehow and for some reason, she had to get from Russia to Australia. She got established and eventually married there, had children, then disappeared.

  “I decided to check the one area we know had to have happened. So, I began to dig into the ships’ passenger lists from 1890 to 1927. I have to admit that I lost track of time and didn’t do my part in our digitalization efforts for Victoria Province. Anyhow, I did find something–actually two things—related to our girl that we can verify.

  “Here is a copy of a maritime business contract registered in Vladivostok, Seoul, Tokyo, Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Moscow:

  “To all who shall see these presents, greetings: A maritime contract has been entered into and duly and legally registered by Abram Timurovich Tarasova and his daughter, a married woman, Alexandra Abramona Tarasova-Yusupov, her husband, Boris Nikolaiovich Yusupov of Moscow, James Matheson II of Shanghai, Junji Shimazaki of Tokyo, and Yi Chin-Mae of Seoul. The business title is the Far Eastern Maritime Commerce Corporation, and the business shall include the production, warehousing, and shipping of goods throughout the China Seas, the Indian Ocean, and the Pacific Ocean ports which honor this registry.

  Entered this eighth day of March, in the year of our Lord, 1879 By the office of the Lord of the Admiralty, Admiral Douglas Mortimorency Cotswold, Hong Kong.”

  The finding solidified the fact of Alexandra’s first marriage, her involvement in oceangoing business on an equal footing with her father and her husband, and was presumptive evidence of her and her family being solidly affluent. Further—reading between the lines—Alexandra became an undoubtedly strong person during a time when women were supposed to be at home, barefoot, pregnant, and quiet. It was obvious that she was none of those.

  “Any luck finding passage from any port in the far east to any port en route to Melbourne, Australia, Elder Clyde?” Elder Durrell asked.

  “’Fraid not, but in all honesty, I haven’t had enough free time to look into that aspect of her life that had to be some time into the future, and as yet unknown circumstances,” Elder Clyde said, musing.

  “That has to be one of the key elements in her history that needs to be discovered, I think we will all agree. I will offer to investigate that thorny question,” Elder Durrell offered.

  “He’ll never be able to do it alone. He can’t even find his glasses. So, I’ll help the man keep on track,” Sister Durrell said jokingly.

  “Hmmf,” Elder Durrell snorted, and all the missionaries had a good laugh.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  HIGH SEAS COMMERCE

  “All of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea – whether it is to sail or to watch it – we are going back from whence we came.”

  —John F. Kennedy

  Golden Horn Wharf, Vladivostok, Far Eastern Russia, March 14, 1879

  Prince Boris sometimes felt that he was dizzy from the frenetic life he had begun by marrying the small tornado of the Tarasova family. He had made a verbal and written contract with Alexandra and her father, Abram, and contributed two million roubles to establish the Tarasova and Yusupov Far Eastern Fur Trading Company. He, Alexandra, Abram, and half a dozen men he did not really know had made a complicated maritime contract to establish the Far Eastern Maritime Commerce Corporation which required a great deal of his time and effort to be expended at sea, where he was not altogether comfortable. His duties and commandant of the Balagansk Prison continued, and he had to spend at least a portion of each week signing papers, attending to personnel problems, and dealing with the admission and release of political prisoners—many of whom were nearly his social equals, and who were in the Irkutsk oblast for no more crimes than what had gotten him sent to the hinterlands. The most taxing and time consuming of his efforts were to keep up with his seemingly indefatigable young wife.

  The wedding night started before the sun went down and the guests allowed the ardent young couple to leave the party with a cacophony of cat calls, lewd suggestions, and unsought after advice. Alexandra was anything but a shy retiring virgin. By morning, Boris had to throw up his arms in defeat and to collapse into a dreamless sleep until noon. From then on, they conducted business: signing contracts, inspecting properties, and planning their first commercial voyage together. Before sundown, in the privacy of their boudoir, Alexandra sapped his energy again…and again. By week’s end, he felt as if he had lost twenty pounds, and almost his ability to walk or to lift anything heavier than a pillow. All in all, it was the best time of his life.

  Two days before setting sail on Alexandra’s ship, the Far East Transporter, more than a hundred stevedores, coolies, clerks, gruzchiki and other cargo handlers, swarmed aboard carrying heavy boxes, machinery, furs, and the officers’ baggage. They worked around the clock until both holds were packed so tightly floor to ceiling that only a narrow aisle allowed passage by a man.

  Alexandra, the captain, and Dimitri Polikov, the pilot, moved the heavily laden ship out to sea through the Golden Horn Bay. The ocean was calm, the sky cloudless azure blue, and the sun was warm and inviting. The previous night, the sky had been a deep bright red—not a hint of the usual darkness.

  Alexandra leaned over to Boris and asked, “Do you know the importance of “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning?”

  “Not really.”

  “Red sky at night—really at dusk–is the sun hitting dust and water particles in the high clouds, which means that a storm is moving away from west to east. But red sky in the morning means that the dust and rain are still hanging in the sky and portends a big storm.”

  “So, it should be smooth sailing for this our honeymoon voyage, then, Alexandra?”

  “Oh, not necessarily. Maybe the whole ditty is just an old wives’ tale. Never can tell.”

  “Well, I am going to look on the side of the old wives to start with at least,” Boris said.

  He was obviously buoyed up and excited for a new adventure. He had never been on a significant ocean voyage before, and the plans were for the Far East Transporter to be at sea for two or three months with visits to more than a dozen exotic ports. Alexandra was, as always, excited for any adventure.

  The Far East Transporter sailed out of Golden Horn Bay with a favorable wind and unfurled all sails once outside the break water. The wind was at the ship’s back for the entire first day at sea. The second day was grey and cloudy; but the waves were no more than two feet high; and the good ship–heavily loaded as she was—fairly skimmed along the surface, making between twenty-five and thirty knots an hour. Alexandra and Boris were wrapped in each others’ arms when the ship’s bells sounded eight bells–2 bells, then a pause, followed by 2 more bells and another pause, then the clanging of the bells repeated the same patter—indicating that it was 0800, the end of the morning watch. They made first port–Naha in the Ryukyu Islands in the East China Sea—to unload a cargo of beaver skins and ermine which was taken to Shuri Castle, and dozens of coolies refilled the ship’s coal bins during the mid-forenoon watch.

/>   Alexandra was first to observe that many of the coolies wore locked metal neck bands, and some had hobbles on their ankles which made their working progress slow, painful, and inefficient.

  She pointed them out to Boris, “Look, slaves. I thought the slave trade pretty much died out when the American slave states lost their civil war.”

  She was angry and disturbed, demonstrating even to herself for the first time her genuine concern for poor and defenseless people.

  “They may be criminals serving out their terms, much like we see in Balagansk,” Boris said.

  “I certainly hope I never hear of any Russian being treated like that in your prison, Boris. It is unacceptable for our civilized nation. I am more inclined to think that these poor people were abducted. Promise me that you will never treat people like animals.”

  “I promise. You know me, I am a member of the aristocracy; and we treat our workers and servants quite decently and have done for centuries. They are like our children.”