Rasputin: The Downfall of the Romanovs by Antony Beevor

Mystic guide or heretic? Unsung hero, or the villain who changed the history of the twentieth century? Many descriptions, conflicting ones at that, but all are focused on a single man.

Talented military historian Antony Beevor turns his attention to one of the most overlooked and mysterious players in Russian history and focuses not only on Grigory Rasputin, but on the world into which he was born, in which he lived, and in which he was killed: the world of Orthodox Russia before the Bolshevik coup and the abdication of Nicholas II, which marked the end of the Romanov dynasty. Rasputin was born into humble origins, but he would eventually rise to the top and be introduced into the most powerful and elite circle in czarist Russia. His supposed mystical powers would win him a reputation which, when it came to the ears of the Tsarina Alexandra, would mark the beginning of his rise to the top and the beginning of the Romanovs' fall to the bottom.

For a military historian, Beevor is certainly an interesting writer. Many historians specializing in the history of warfare tend to get bogged down in the details while missing the overall picture. Not so with Beevor, who, with a wealth of sources, manages to encapsulate both the particulars and the universals: both Rasputin the man and the men and women around that man.

Interestingly, this is one of Beevor's shorter works, coming in at around 350 pages of substantive writing, plus footnotes and bibliography. The fact that Rasputin, like all men, lived a full life, and further, the fact that his life was by no means dull, will of course mean that many details which may interest the reader will inevitably be left out. Certainly, this is one of the impressions that will be received when reading the book. Beevor's biography of Rasputin is not a typical biography. Only a couple of pages are given to the first decades of Rasputin's life, while a full three chapters are focused on his assassination. While many biographies will only briefly mention the players who figure prominently in the life of their protagonist, Beevor goes deeper. Not only does he introduce the characters in their relationship with the mystic, but he also presents them as dynamic characters themselves, showing the reader their world as well as Rasputin's, even when the two do not necessarily intersect. At times this makes the overall thrust of the work feel vague, but on the flip side, it adds much depth, both cultural and political, that is not normally found in a simple biography.

While this style may, to some, seem distracting, this unconventional structure ultimately works to the book's advantage. Instead of focusing on Rasputin's birth, early decades, and formation, which would in most cases be desirable, the author's emphasis on the world of late imperial Russia helps underscore the fact that although Rasputin may have been the catalyst for the downfall of the Romanovs, he was not the only, or even the principal, figure. Beevor does not make this explicit, though I wish he did, but this underlines an interesting historical point: everyone should ultimately bear responsibility for his or her own actions. Blame for the fate of a nation may hinge on a particular person, but that hinge should not be mistaken for the door. The author demonstrates that the collapse of the dynasty cannot and should not be attributed to Rasputin alone, despite the enduring popular myth that he single-handedly brought down the entire empire.

Although not in depth, several philosophical and theological questions are tossed around by the author through the people in this story. Rasputin's perverted behavior can be seen, in part, as the consequence of his belief that, to be forgiven much, it is necessary to sin much. Obviously, this is dangerously unorthodox, not in the denominational sense, teaching, as it places a strong emphasis on sinning instead of any attempt to avoid illicit behaviors and acts. The consequences of this mistaken belief may become obvious at once to those more versed in biblical theology and will add a layer of depth to this book which could very easily be missed by those who are not as well versed. Indeed, the opportunity to engage not only with the political philosophy of Nicholas and Alexandra, as well as that of the moderates and those on the right and left of the political spectrum, but also with the theological and philosophical questions which played such a role in the Russia of the early twentieth century, is one of the most enjoyable and commendable parts of this work.

Two areas of weakness in this book are of note. Firstly, with a subject as complex as Rasputin, and with contrasts so stark between the "man of God" that the Czar and the Czarina saw him to be and the "man of the world," the carnal Rasputin accused and likely guilty of rape, the facts alone cannot suffice. Most readers, upon concluding the read, will be left confused as to Rasputin's legacy. Certainly, history is full of shades of gray, but the shades of gray do not negate the black and the white which, when summed, the grays produce. Beevor's attempt at objectivity, while commendable and understandable, is unsatisfactory because it leaves the reader with little sense of historical judgment. Was he good or bad? Perhaps the author intends to leave this question unanswered; perhaps he believes the question is unanswerable; or perhaps he wishes to leave it up to the reader to decide, to weigh the evidence in the balance of history and make the decision for himself. Yet the brevity of the work, coupled with the conflicting facts, makes such a task nearly impossible. Beevor is a master at narrating facts; he is less successful at drawing conclusions from them. Consequently, the central question of who Rasputin truly was remains frustratingly unresolved.

The second area of criticism is less universal and will likely not be shared by all readers. Once more it centers on the author's attempt at objectivity. The way in which he deals with Rasputin, who was after all a primarily religious figure, is almost entirely secular. He narrates what those around him, in a highly superstitious culture fed by Eastern Orthodox mysticism, thought about Rasputin's actions and whether they came from a divine origin, but notably, Beevor never attempts either to debunk any claims of spiritualism or to confirm them. The conflict within the Russian Church is also of note here; not everyone inside the church hierarchy agreed on Rasputin and how the church should deal with him. Beevor also shows that the Tsar's attempts to interfere with ecclesial authority were not welcome, yet no contrast is shown between the orthodoxy of the Orthodox and the orthodoxy of Rasputin. To those readers unfamiliar with the teachings, practices, and liturgy of Orthodoxy, this may be a problem.

Despite these criticisms, Rasputin is a highly worthwhile work and a welcome contribution to the study of late imperial Russia. Readers will emerge with their interest in this period not satisfied, but decidedly piqued. It is a good starting point, a good beginning to a road that will lead deeper into the struggles of history and the struggles of the soul.

Review Written by Caleb A. Gerber

May 31st, 2026

1917: Lenin, Wilson, and the Birth of the New World Disorder by Arthur Herman

Idealism is not necessarily a virtue, for both tyrants and heroes have been and are idealists. In 1917, two men, different in many ways but similar in one underlying theme, were about to be catapulted to the forefront of the world. Their choices would be choices that would shape the world for the next century.

Author Arthur Herman argues that both Woodrow Wilson, the President of the United States, and Vladimir Lenin, the revolutionary Marxist who would soon be deified as the founder of the Soviet Union, were not only alike in their fervent belief that history could be bent toward a grand design, but also in their confidence that they themselves understood that design. From a distinctly Hegelian lens, one which saw progress as an inevitable force that would lead to harmony, both believed that they could use government, or, in a Bismarckian sense, “the state,” to further their ends. The state was a means to an end for both men, and as a means it was applied in every possible way.

1917 explores how the visions of these two men collided in a colossal way during the terminus of the Great War. Wilson entered the war reluctantly, despite the clamor from those in the Republican Party, such as Theodore Roosevelt, who urged him to stand with their European allies from the start. Yet when he entered, he applied his vision of liberal democracy and an international order to every aspect of the conflict. It would be the mission of the United States Expeditionary Force, under the talented command of “Black Jack” Pershing, to secure a peace, but it would be, Wilson urged, a peace without victory.

Herman argues that that is exactly what he got.

On the other hand was the Russian exile living in Switzerland, the avowed Marxist Vladimir Lenin. Unlike today’s perception of Lenin as a fundamentally different man from his successor, Joseph Stalin, Herman points out that it was Lenin, and not Stalin, who was in command of the purges following the Bolsheviks’ triumph in the Revolution of ’17. It was Lenin, though this applied as well to Stalin or to Stalin’s nemesis Trotsky, who was the brutal warlord who murdered his political opponents, no matter their innocence. Yet Lenin too was an idealist, and Lenin also was willing to use the state to achieve progress. While Wilson viewed progress as that which could be achieved by peaceful coexistence, Lenin saw it in starkly different terms. Well might Mao Zedong’s motto, “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun,” have served as the unofficial motto of Vladimir Lenin’s revolution. Where Woodrow Wilson spoke the language of diplomacy, congresses, and international law, Lenin spoke the language of force, class war, and revolutionary necessity. Yet both men believed they were accelerating the march of history. The difference lay not in their certainty, but in the methods which they believed history required.

The irony is that Lenin need not have succeeded. The Soviet Union was an experiment, and like all experiments, was not bound to succeed. By its very nature, communism, argues Herman, eats its own creation, and indeed, following the stories of the leaders of the Revolution, such as Trotsky, such a proposition is historically evident as well. Rather than being bound to an inevitable victory of the proletariat, as Lenin firmly believed, the Russian Revolution nearly ended in failure many times. Alexander Kerensky and the fragile Provisional Government might well have crushed the Bolshevik movement had events taken only a slightly different course. The Whites, under the command of Alexander Denikin, could have stood up to Lenin had not inner turmoil and distrust between Denikin and Kerensky bloomed. Indeed, had Woodrow Wilson himself not intervened on behalf of the Bolsheviks, it is likely that the experiment in communism would have ended not in 1991 with the quiet dissolution of the Soviet Union, but in 1919 amid the smoke and confusion of the Russian Civil War. Ironically, it was the Hegelian idealism of Wilson that preserved the Soviet Union from destruction.

Wilson himself would fail, his idealism running aground when the Republican Senate, under the leadership of Henry Cabot Lodge, blocked Wilson’s pet project, the League of Nations. It was idealism that prevented Wilson from acceding to the demands made by the Republican Congress. It was idealism that made Wilson see the entire conflict over the League as a conflict for the future of humanity rather than an opportunity for compromise, which could have led to a fundamentally better League, one backed by both parties. It was idealism that drove Wilson mad with fury and would lead to several massive strokes that would leave him incapacitated for the remainder of his term and that would sink all hopes of running for a third term in 1920.

In clear prose, Herman successfully defends his central thesis: that the idealism of both Wilson and Lenin led to the disorder of the next century. The naivety of Wilson’s Fourteen Points and his belief that World War I was “the war to end all wars” would lead to the appeasement of Nazi Germany. The desperate, Machiavellian, yet at heart idealistic policies of Vladimir Lenin would lead to the deaths not only of Russians during the fifty-plus years of Soviet rule, but would also, albeit indirectly, cause the surge of bloody communist revolutions across the globe, from Mao’s China, where seventy million people died, to Pol Pot’s Cambodia and Kim’s North Korea. Although Herman makes no attempt to disguise his contempt for Wilson, and his hatred of Lenin, from beginning to end, the facts are neatly ordered, the thesis is well defended, and the writing is masterfully articulated.

Review Written by C. A. Gerber

March 8th, 2026