The Final Day Of The Romanov Family
- U I Team
- Jul 17, 2019
- 10 min read
When Tsar Nicholas II was forced to abdicate in March 1917, it marked not only the end of the Romanov dynasty but the close of centuries of autocratic rule in Russia. The Romanovs had ruled since 1613, maintaining control over a vast and diverse empire through an often harsh and centralised authority. Yet by the dawn of the 20th century, the contradictions at the heart of their rule were becoming unsustainable. Industrialisation had brought a new working class, while peasants remained mired in poverty and landlessness. Reforms were inconsistent, and repression remained the main tool of governance.
Strained beyond repair by the colossal demands of the First World War, the imperial system crumbled under the weight of military defeats, food shortages, and growing unrest. Russia’s involvement in the war had led to enormous casualties, estimated at over two million by early 1917, while the home front suffered under rationing and economic dislocation. The Provisional Government that replaced the tsar aimed to maintain Russia’s commitment to the war effort, hoping to honour its alliance with Britain and France. However, their resolve only deepened public disillusionment. Soldiers deserted en masse, and the Russian populace grew increasingly hostile to the endless sacrifice.
Mounting casualties, poor logistics, and fear of a German push towards Moscow rapidly undermined the Provisional Government’s authority. Taking advantage of the chaos, Germany facilitated the return of Vladimir Lenin, exiled in Switzerland, in a sealed train, hoping he would intensify the disorder. Lenin did not disappoint. On the night of 6–7 November 1917 (by the Julian calendar), Lenin led the Bolsheviks in seizing control of Petrograd. This Bolshevik seizure of power was not universally welcomed and marked the beginning of a protracted and bloody civil conflict between Bolshevik Reds and the various White factions—including monarchists, republicans, and foreign interventionists—who rejected the new regime’s legitimacy.
The Romanovs in Captivity
In the turbulent months that followed the Bolsheviks’ rise, the question of what to do with the former imperial family became increasingly urgent. While some within the new regime favoured exile or a public trial, others feared that the Romanovs would become symbols of resistance and a rallying point for the counter-revolution. Their continued existence posed a political dilemma. International monarchist sentiment, particularly from Britain and Germany, complicated matters further. While King George V initially offered asylum, political pressure in Britain led him to withdraw the offer, leaving the Romanovs stranded.
The family was initially moved to the imperial residence at Tsarskoye Selo, under guard but with relative comfort. Soon, they were transported to Tobolsk in Siberia. Conditions at Tobolsk were far from luxurious but were not harsh. Nicholas, no longer burdened with affairs of state, found solace in the quiet routines of rural life. He tended to his son Alexei, whose haemophilia continued to plague the family, and resumed a semblance of family life. The family retained a household staff of nearly 40, maintained correspondence, and observed religious rituals. Their possessions, including treasured family photo albums and books, were left largely intact.
There was, at first, hope. The family entertained the possibility of asylum in Britain or perhaps neutral Sweden. Others speculated that they might be allowed to retire to the Crimea, the site of many cherished family holidays. But gradually, as the civil war intensified and the Bolsheviks’ control became more severe, one by one, these escape routes closed. By the spring of 1918, the family’s fate had become entangled with the shifting tides of the revolution.
Ipatiev House: The Final Prison
Yekaterinburg, deep in the Urals, was a stronghold of radical Bolshevism. It had seen intense revolutionary activity during 1917 and harboured a profound hostility to the former aristocracy. The city’s revolutionary fervour made it a logical place for the Romanovs’ final confinement. They arrived in April 1918 and were housed in a merchant’s house requisitioned by the Bolsheviks and dubbed “The House of Special Purpose.”
The building, previously owned by Nikolai Ipatiev, was fortified with high wooden palisades to prevent public view or escape. Initially, their captor Alexander Avdeev was corrupt and inefficient. He allowed fraternisation between guards and prisoners, and minor thefts of possessions were common. However, the family was still able to spend time in the garden and maintain some semblance of routine.
Yakov Yurovsky’s arrival marked a turning point. A committed Bolshevik and former Cheka officer, Yurovsky imposed strict discipline. He banned all interaction between guards and prisoners, ceased petty theft, and ensured constant surveillance. Despite his stern approach, he maintained a respectful distance. Nicholas, as had often been the case in his political dealings, misread the situation and viewed Yurovsky as reasonable, even decent. Meanwhile, preparations for their execution were quietly set in motion.
Despite their confinement, the family remained closely bonded. The grand duchesses—Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia—wrote letters, staged amateur plays, and assisted with daily chores. Their lives retained a rhythm shaped by faith and familial affection. Townswomen brought in as cleaners later recalled the family’s quiet dignity, with even the most hardened Bolshevik guards initially taken aback by their modesty and humanity.
Execution in the Cellar
By July 1918, as the White Army advanced toward Yekaterinburg, the local Bolsheviks feared that the Romanovs might be rescued and restored to power. With Lenin’s implicit approval, they resolved to eliminate the family. On the night of 16 July, Yurovsky received orders to proceed.
At 1:30 a.m., under the pretext of an emergency relocation, Yurovsky woke the family and their servants. Nicholas carried the frail Alexei down to the basement; Alexandra, the daughters, and loyal attendants—Dr Eugene Botkin, maid Anna Demidova, cook Ivan Kharitonov, and footman Alexei Trupp—followed.
In a small, dimly lit cellar room, Alexandra and Alexei were offered chairs. The rest stood. Yurovsky then entered with a squad of executioners and read a brief prepared statement: “The presidium of the Regional Soviet... has decreed that the former Tsar Nicholas Romanov, guilty of countless bloody crimes against the people, should be shot.”
Gunfire erupted immediately. Nicholas was killed first. Alexandra, likely bewildered, was shot in the head. Smoke and panic filled the room. Bullets ricocheted off the daughters, who had sewn precious jewels into their corsets. Executioners resorted to bayonets. The carnage was chaotic. One guard, Ermakov, reportedly drunken, stabbed wildly. The ordeal lasted nearly 20 minutes.
Pavel Medvedev was a member of the squad of soldiers guarding the royal family. He describes what happened:
"In the evening of 16 July, between seven and eight p.m., when the time or my duty 'had just begun; Commandant Yurovsky, [the head of the execution squad]ordered me to take all the Nagan revolvers from the guards and to bring them to him. I took twelve revolvers from the sentries as well as from some other of the guards and brought them to the commandant's office.
Yurovsky said to me, 'We must shoot them all tonight; so notify the guards not to be alarmed if they hear shots.' I understood, therefore, that Yurovsky had it in his mind to shoot the whole of the Tsar's family, as well as the doctor and the servants who lived with them, but I did not ask him where or by whom the decision had been made... At about ten o'clock in the evening in accordance with Yurovsky's order I informed the guards not to be alarmed if they should hear firing.
About midnight Yurovsky woke up the Tsar's family. I do not know if he told them the reason they had been awakened and where they were to be taken, but I positively affirm that it was Yurovsky who entered the room occupied by the Tsar's family. In about an hour the whole of the family, the doctor, the maid and the waiters got up, washed and dressed themselves.
Just before Yurovsky went to awaken the family, two members of the Extraordinary Commission [of the Ekaterinburg Soviet] arrived at Ipatiev's house. Shortly after one o'clock a.m., the Tsar, the Tsaritsa, their four daughters, the maid, the doctor, the cook and the waiters left their rooms. The Tsar carried the heir in his arms. The Emperor and the heir were dressed in gimnasterkas [soldiers' shirts] and wore caps. The Empress, her daughters and the others followed him. Yurovsky, his assistant and the two above-mentioned members of the Extraordinary Commission accompanied them. I was also present.
During my presence none of the Tsar's family asked any questions. They did not weep or cry. Having descended the stairs to the first floor, we went out into the court, and from there to the second door (counting from the gate) we entered the ground floor of the house. When the room (which adjoins the store room with a sealed door) was reached, Yurovsky ordered chairs to be brought, and his assistant brought three chairs. One chair was given to the Emperor, one to the Empress, and the third to the heir.
The Empress sat by the wall by the window, near the black pillar of the arch. Behind her stood three of her daughters (I knew their faces very well, because I had seen them every day when they walked in the garden, but I didn't know their names). The heir and the Emperor sat side by side almost in the middle of the room. Doctor Botkin stood behind the heir. The maid, a very tall woman, stood at the left of the door leading to the store room; by her side stood one of the Tsar's daughters (the fourth). Two servants stood against the wall on the left from the entrance of the room.
The maid carried a pillow. The Tsar's daughters also brought small pillows with them. One pillow was put on the Empress's chair; another on the heir's chair. It seemed as if all of them guessed their fate, but not one of them uttered a single sound. At this moment eleven men entered the room: Yurovsky, his assistant, two members of the Extraordinary Commission, and seven Letts (operatives of the infamous Cheka or Secret Police)..
Yurovsky ordered me to leave, saying, 'Go on to the street, see if there is anybody there, and wait to see whether the shots have been heard.' I went out to the court, which was enclosed by a fence, but before I got to the street I heard the firing. I returned to the house immediately (only two or three minutes having elapsed) and upon entering the room where the execution had taken place, I saw that all the members of the Tsar's family were lying on the floor with many wounds in their bodies. The blood was running in streams. The doctor, the maid and two waiters had also been shot. When I entered the heir was still alive and moaned a little. Yurovsky went up and fired two or three more times at him. Then the heir was still."
Aftermath and Cover-Up
The disposal of the Romanovs' remains was as chaotic and brutal as their execution. Their bloodied bodies were hauled into a truck under cover of darkness and driven to the Four Brothers mine at Ganina Yama, a remote forest location. The Bolsheviks' first plan was to dispose of the corpses by lowering them into the mine shaft and destroying the evidence with grenades and sulphuric acid. However, the shaft proved too shallow and visible. Realising this, Yurovsky ordered the bodies to be removed.
During transport to a second site, the truck became mired in thick mud. In the confusion, two bodies—those believed to be Alexei and Maria—were separated and buried in a shallow pit a few miles away. The remaining nine bodies were taken to a clearing, dismembered, set alight, doused with acid to obscure identification, and buried in a concealed grave.
The Bolsheviks immediately began sowing confusion. On 18 July 1918, only Nicholas’s death was officially acknowledged. The regime claimed the rest of the family was alive and being safeguarded elsewhere. The tactic had dual aims: deflecting international condemnation and forestalling monarchist revolt. For years, Soviet authorities refused to confirm the full truth. Even when the Civil War ended and the Bolsheviks solidified their power, the events of Yekaterinburg remained shrouded in silence.
The obfuscation was institutionalised under Stalin. In 1938, all discussion of the Romanovs’ fate was formally suppressed. Yekaterinburg itself was renamed Sverdlovsk after Bolshevik leader Yakov Sverdlov, and in 1977, just ahead of the 60th anniversary of the October Revolution, the Ipatiev House was demolished on the orders of Boris Yeltsin, then a regional party official. The official justification was that the site had “no historical significance,” though most understood it as an attempt to erase an uncomfortable legacy.
Despite this, rumours, speculation, and mythologies flourished in Russia and abroad. Imposters emerged—most famously Anna Anderson in Germany, who claimed to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia. Her story, widely believed for decades, became the basis for books and films, further fuelling global fascination with the Romanov tragedy.
Rediscovery and Remembrance
Despite official silence, the Romanov story refused to die. Claimants emerged, purporting to be surviving members. The most famous was Anna Anderson, who insisted she was Anastasia. Her story captured the imagination of millions and was widely circulated in the West. Meanwhile, the true burial site remained secret until 1979 when two amateur researchers, Alexander Avdonin and Geli Ryabov, discovered the mass grave. They kept their findings hidden until the late 1980s.
In 1991, amid the collapse of the Soviet Union, the site was excavated. DNA analysis identified Nicholas, Alexandra, and three of their daughters: Olga, Tatiana, and Anastasia. The remains were reinterred in 1998 with full state honours in the Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral in St. Petersburg. President Boris Yeltsin, who presided over the ceremony, described the murders as “one of the darkest pages of our history.”
In 2000, the Russian Orthodox Church canonised the family as “passion-bearers,” martyrs who had met death with Christian humility. In 2007, the separate remains of Alexei and Maria were discovered and identified using modern forensic methods. A monastery was established at Ganina Yama, and in 2003 the Church on the Blood was consecrated on the site of the demolished Ipatiev House. Both sites have become important places of pilgrimage.
Epitaph of an Empire
The Romanovs’ downfall was not merely a personal tragedy but a symbol of epochal change. Their end marked the demise of imperial Russia and the birth of a Soviet state built on ideological revolution. The family, once aloof and distant, became figures of human suffering and lost grandeur.
Cut off from the world by their own privilege and blind to the currents of history, they failed to grasp the magnitude of the forces arrayed against them. But their closeness in captivity, their evident affection for one another, and their tragic deaths have left an enduring legacy. Their story is one of love and delusion, grandeur and fragility. United in life and death, the Romanovs remain, even now, figures of fascination and symbols of a vanished world.
Sources:
Massie, Robert K. Nicholas and Alexandra. New York: Ballantine Books, 2000.
Rappaport, Helen. The Last Days of the Romanovs. London: Hutchinson, 2008.
King, Greg and Penny Wilson. The Fate of the Romanovs. New York: Wiley, 2003.
Sebestyen, Victor. Lenin the Dictator. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2017.
Montefiore, Simon Sebag. The Romanovs 1613–1918. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2016.
Yurovsky, Yakov. The Shooting of the Romanovs: The Eyewitness Account by the Executioner. (Edited and translated)
Smithsonian Magazine: www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-last-days-of-the-romanovs-7877984/
Russian State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF)
Romanov Memorial Site: www.romanov-memorial.com
