Betrayal of Russia
When I first saw this book was published I asked the question ‘what else is there to say about the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II?’ I have found that Tsuyoshi Hasegawa’s book has brought something new to the table and I appreciate that. The Last Tsar is in fact a meticulously researched and richly detailed account of the final days of the Romanov dynasty, with a particular focus on the abdication crisis of March 1917. This book stands out for its hour-by-hour breakdown of the events leading up to Nicholas II’s abdication, offering a level of precision and depth that surpasses prior scholarship from noted historians such as Robert Service, Philip K. Massie, and Dominic Lieven.
I would say that Hasegawa’s biggest achievement is how he has been able to disentangle the web of political maneuverings in Petrograd during the crisis. Rather than presenting a simplified narrative, he lays bare the conflicting aims of various actors, from conservative monarchists to revolutionary socialists, all of whom were working at cross-purposes. This mosaic of misaligned ambitions, combined with a lack of coordination, led to the unintended but complete collapse of the Romanov regime.
Hasegawa’s analysis of Nicholas II is both compelling and frustrating. He places the Tsar squarely at the centre of the collapse, not as a passive victim of history but as its principal architect. Nicholas, in this telling, made every possible misstep: from stubbornly resisting reform to mishandling the Duma and ignoring the shifting political realities around him. Hasegawa is especially effective in showing how Nicholas’ abdication for both himself and his son Alexei sealed the monarchy’s fate. Here, the author diverges sharply from historians like Orlando Figes, who argue that the monarchy was already doomed by 1917. Hasegawa instead posits that a regency for the boy Tsar could have appeased revolutionary demands without dismantling the monarchy altogether.
The supporting cast is equally well drawn. Figures like Alexander Guchkov and Vasily Shulgin, the latter a monarchist who hoped abdication would lead to a constitutional monarchy, are portrayed as both tragic and consequential. Alexander Kerensky emerges as a figure inflated by personal ambition, dreaming of Napoleonic glory, only to be unceremoniously outmaneuvered by Lenin. Grand Dukes Kirill and Nikolai Nikolaevich are shown as would-be reformers who, while lacking faith in Nicholas, still harbored hope for a reformed monarchy. Another strength is Hasegawa’s exploration of the brutal mechanics of realpolitik. The narrative makes clear that the Tsar was not so much overthrown by an uprising from below as eliminated from above, through a calculated and often duplicitous process of political maneuvering. This aspect draws a striking parallel to the fall of Paul I, reinforcing the idea that Romanov emperors often fell more by palace intrigue than mass revolt.
That said, The Last Tsar is not without its limitations. Hasegawa’s portrayal of Nicholas and Alexandra verges at times on hostile. While Nicholas was undoubtedly culpable in his own downfall, the book offers little sympathy for the broader constraints of his position, such as the deteriorating war effort or the structural failings of the Russian state which were, to some extent, beyond his control. Moreover, while the build-up to the abdication is exhaustively detailed, the narrative drops off significantly once Nicholas leaves the stage. The descent into Bolshevik rule, culminating in the murders at Ekaterinburg in July 1918, is mentioned only in passing. This may disappoint those who are looking for a more comprehensive account of the revolution’s aftermath, especially those who believe that the Bolshevik regime’s crimes deserve equal weight in the story of the Romanov downfall. Lastly, while The Last Tsar’s detail is a major asset for specialists and well-informed readers, newcomers to the Russian Revolution may find the dense chronology and sheer volume of names, dates, and factions overwhelming. This is not an entry-level history, it is best approached with a solid grounding in the broader context of early 20th Century Russian politics.
If I am honest I have struggled to rate The Last Tsar. It is difficult to say where it sits. It is a solid but demanding study of the Romanov dynasty’s final days. Hasegawa offers a nuanced and often devastating portrait of Nicholas II, while illuminating the murky political world that surrounded him. It is definitely a definitive work on the abdication crisis, even if its focus leaves some parts of the revolutionary narrative underexplored. For serious students of Russian history, it has something to offer in understanding how monarchy met its end; not with a popular revolt, but with a whisper of betrayal.