Empire on fire. First year of war 1914. Alexey Glazyrin
Purtales turns and the shuffling gait of a weak person leaves.
August 1
Saturday’s official day of official St. Petersburg was already ending, but there was no German note drawing a line under the ultimatum presented yesterday. According to the Russian Foreign Ministry, rumors spread that Wilhelm had changed his mind that there could still be a pacification of Austria and negotiations with Berlin. Many of the officials of the diplomatic department went to their summer cottages with this.
Only in the evening Sazonov was informed that Count Purtales again required a meeting. The Minister realized that the decisive hour had come. Sergey Dmitrievich crossed himself into a small picture before moving from the apartment to the official office.
Having removed the glove, the ambassador takes out an envelope from thick white paper with seals decorated with the German emblem from the inside pocket of his gold-embroidered uniform, and solemnly, as if making a salute with a sword, hands it to Sazonov.
Both understand that the moment of transfer of the envelope with the declaration of war in itself will not open the river of blood. It will begin to pour only when two military vehicles collide, when the troops come into contact. Two old people understand that a lot of them connected personally and will continue to connect, no matter what, on any fronts that will lie between them. But the symbolism of the act is such that both startle, as if from an electric shock, when a white envelope passes from the ambassador’s hand to the minister’s.
Sazonov – this is necessary for the story – utters his phrase again:
“You are committing a criminal case!”
– We defend our honor! – the ambassador speaks with trembling voice. He is extremely upset and barely standing on his feet.
Sazonov opens the envelope and reads the text of the declaration of war. The note is short. The last, most significant phrase strikes him first:
“His Majesty the German Emperor, my august monarch, on behalf of the empire accepts the challenge and considers himself at war with Russia!”
Turning to the introductory part, Sazonov suddenly sees in brackets two versions of the wording. To the amazement of the minister there is no limit. Indeed, the negligence of the scribes makes the note not a document creating history, but a laughing stock, at the same time, of embassy officials who issued it in this form.
Sazonov read aloud these two options.
Then the minister stares at the ambassador point-blank and raises one eyebrow in surprise.
Purtales himself is amazed and cannot say a word. He blushes, then turns pale, tears begin to shine in his eyes.
Sazonov finishes reading and solemnly utters:
“The curse of the nations will fall upon you!”
“We only defend our honor!” – Again, but already in a whisper, repeats Count Purtales.
“Your honor was not affected,” Sazonov continues with pathos.“You could have averted war in one word, but you do not want it!” Remember that divine providence exists and it will punish you!
“It is true, there is divine justice!.. And it will punish you!.. Divine justice!” – mutters the confused and depressed ambassador.
With almost no control over himself, poor Purtales heads for the open window and stops, buried in the curtain. The old weak man cries quietly, hiding his face from the minister.
– Could I know that this will end my stay in Russia?! – heard through sobs.
Sazonov walks up to him, puts a little hug on his shoulders and tries to calm an old friend who has now become an enemy.
“Dear Count, I will never forget you… Let us now say goodbye as good friends…” Sazonov offers.
“Goodbye, goodbye!..” Purtales hugs him.
No one in Petersburg knows that from now on Russia is at war with the German Empire.
August 2
On the eve of Saturday night, all of Petersburg already knew that Germany had declared war on Russia. By three o’clock on Sunday afternoon, officers of the St. Petersburg Military District Guard and senior dignitaries of the empire were convened at the Winter Palace for a solemn prayer service and the declaration of war on Germany. It is ordered to appear in marching uniforms, to statesmen – in ceremonial uniforms.
The morning began with a bell ringing in all the churches, crowds of purely dressed people gathered from all parts of the city to Nevsky, Millionnaya, Palace Square and the Neva embankments.
On the morning of August 2, 1914, the king issued a decree on the outbreak of hostilities. It was a sparkling, hot summer day. The Palace Square, one of the largest in Europe, was crowded with thousands of onlookers languishing from the heat, crowds of excited people carrying flags, icons, awaiting the appearance of the monarch in order to express his patriotic feelings in his presence. On the other side of the Neva where the king was supposed to arrive from Peterhof, thousands of people crowded on bridges and river embankments, singing and shouting greetings. Neva was covered with yachts, steamboats, sailboats, fishing boats, boats with raised flags and with many spectators on board.
When the emperor and the empress descended to the Neva embankment, waves of welcoming cries swept: “Father, father, lead us to victory!” Nikolai was dressed in the full uniform of the infantry regiment, Alexandra Fedorovna in a white dress. She raised the brim of her elegant hat so that people could see her face. Four great princesses followed the king and the empress. Tsarevich, still not recovering from the accident at the “Standard”, remained in Peterhof.
Entering the palace, the king and the empress slowly proceeded along the large stairs and wide corridors of the palace, filled with people. Nikolai Alexandrovich walked through the crowd, bowing and nodding. Men and women fell to their knees and enthusiastically tried to kiss his hand. The service took place in the huge white marble hall of Nikolaev, where 5 thousand people gathered in the flickering of candles. The altar erected in the center of the hall was decorated with a significant shrine – the icon of the Mother of God of Vladimir…
After the ceremony, the king and the empress went to the people gathered outside the walls of the palace. When they appeared on the high balcony draped with red cloths, a huge crowd knelt. Nikolai raised his hand and tried to speak. The front ranks were quiet, but in the latter the excitement and movement of people were too great, and the king’s words were drowned in noise. Shocked Nikolai bowed his head.In response, people, under the influence of their overwhelming feelings, sang a national anthem, the melody of which was used by Tchaikovsky in the finale of the “Solemn Overture of 1812” – “God Save the Tsar.”
Clutching each other’s hands, a man in uniform Emperor Autocrat, and a woman in a white dress, the Russian Empress stood on the balcony and cried with the people. “For those who were on their knees then,” said Paleolog, “the tsar was a real autocrat – military, political and religious dictator, the absolute master of the soul and body of the people.” And so it was throughout the empire: an explosion of inspiration, crowds of people on the streets, laughter, tears, singing, exclamations, kisses. A wave of patriotism swept Russia. Workers left red revolutionary flags and took up icons and portraits of the king. Students left universities and voluntarily left the army. The officers who met on the streets were enthusiastically shaking in their arms.
In St. Petersburg, demonstrations were held every day in support of the tsar and allies. From the window of the French Embassy, Paleolog observed a mass procession of people with flags, icons and exclamations “Long live France!” Noting the growing anti-German union, the Paleologist, with his inherent Gallic attention to external details, notes that “the flags of the three nations merged into one. Consisting of the same colors – blue, red and white – they are a picturesque and impressive evidence of the allied coalition”.
An