To judge by press accounts of the funeral itself, efforts to mobilize a big crowd for the occasion were highly successful. Golos soldata reported that by early morning Nevsky Prospect had already taken on "a very special appearance." Although few shops opened for business, people were everywhere about. The crowds were packed tightest in the area near St. Isaac's, Petrograd's largest cathedral, where the main services were to take place. Crowds also lined the route along which the cortege was to travel, from the cathedral to the Alexander Nevsky monastery where the dead cossacks were to be interred.
Throughout the previous night townspeople, along with relatives and
friends of the slain cossacks, had waited in long lines outside St. Isaac's for their turn to pay their last respects. Inside the vast candle-lit cathedral the dead cossacks lay in state in open, white caskets, while stern-faced cossacks stood guard over their fallen comrades. Once admitted to the cathedral, many of the mourners remained there for the rest of the night, so that by early morning the church was filled to capacity and further entry was barred except to invited dignitaries. These began to arrive well before the requiem service was scheduled to start. Representatives of the various diplomatic missions in Russia, among them David Francis of the United States, Joseph Noulens of France, and George Buchanan of England, each accompanied by a military attache in dress uniform, took their places alongside members of the Russian cabinet, the majority socialist leadership of the Soviet, officials of the zemstvo and city administrations, representatives of the merchant and industrial estates, emissaries from each cossack force in Russia and from every unit in the Petrograd garrison, and delegations from major factories in the capital as well as from a host of lesser groups and organizations.
Shortly before 10:00 a.m., Kerensky appeared in the cathedral. Reportedly looking pale and nervous (he was just then at a most difficult juncture in his efforts to form a government), he watched as the former court cap- pella, the combined St. Isaac's and Kazan cathedral choirs, and the personal choir of the metropolitan filed to places reserved for them. The cathedral became hushed as the archbishop of Petrograd, followed by the exarch of the Georgian Orthodox Church and the members of the Holy Synod, ascended the platform before the altar to begin the requiem. At the start of the service, a procession of dignitaries laid wreaths of bright summer flowers at the foot of the caskets. Among the first to come forward was a delegation of cossacks bearing a floral tribute inscribed: "To those who loyally did their duty and died at the hands of German agents." They were followed by the Kadet leaders Fedor Rodichev, Pavel Miliukov, and Vasilii Maklakov, who carried a large wreath beribboned in green and bearing the legend: "To the loyal sons of free Russia who fell in the struggle against traitors to their country." An approving observer from Zhivoe slovo reported that when the hundreds of voices of the combined choirs broke the silence to entone a solemn hymn, the entire congregation dropped to its knees. In this moving service the prominent Kadet Ariadna Tyrkova professed to have heard the voice of Russia itself.
The requiem lasted nearly three hours. At its close, guards replaced and screwed down the casket lids. The caskets were then carried by selected high officials to the square outside the cathedral, where cossack and dragoon units, regiments of the Petrograd garrison, several military bands, and a detachment of trumpeters were massed for the procession to the Alexander Nevsky Monastery. As the first of the caskets, borne by cabinet ministers led by Kerensky, appeared from inside the cathedral, the commander of the Petrograd Military District ordered: "Present arms!" Regimental banners fluttered in a soft breeze from the Neva while a single trumpeter played taps. Then the air was rent by the loud boom of ceremonial cannon at the Peter and Paul Fortress. The polished sabers of the cossacks gleamed in the bright sun, and at an officer's command a forest of bayonets rose and sprang back in salute. Kerensky stepped forward. "Citizens!" he thundered,
Citizens, we are sharing a rare, sad, historical moment. . . . Every one of us must bow before the heroes who fell on the streets of the capital in the struggle for our homeland, for freedom, and for the honest name of a Russian citizen. On behalf of the government, I say to you that the Russian state is going through a terrible moment. It is closer to destruction than ever before in its history. . . . Before all of you I openly declare that all attempts to foment anarchy and disorder regardless of where they come from will be dealt with mercilessly. . . . Before the bodies of the fallen, I beseech you to swear that along with us you will work to save the state and freedom.
Raising his right hand, Kerensky shouted, "I pledge this!" There was a brief silence, then thousands of hands shot into the air and a roar erupted from the crowd: "We swear it!" Those nearest Kerensky lifted him on to their shoulders and carried him to a waiting automobile.
The cortege started forward. The bells of St. Isaac's tolled as the bands played the majestic anthem "How Glorious Is Our God in Zion." Leading
The funeral of seven cossacks killed in Petrograd during the July days. Government ministers and State Duma deputies follow the caskets.
the procession were the trumpeters, who were followed by a cossack squadron carrying pikes tied with black bunting; priests in flowing black robes bearing tall crosses, church banners, and incense burners; several rows of choirboys; high dignitaries of the church; and the St. Isaac's and metropolitan's choirs. The remains of the slain cossacks were borne on seven horse-drawn gun carriages. A riderless horse ambled behind each of the first six carriages. Seated in the saddle of the mount behind the last carriage was a thin-faced boy of about ten—the son of the slain cossack —wearing the distinctive dark blue uniform trimmed with maroon of the Don Cossacks. Bringing up the rear of the long cortege were government and Soviet officials, followed by the delegations that had attended the ceremony and seemingly endless ranks of military troops.
As the head of the procession turned from Morskaia Street into Nevsky Prospect, bells at several neighboring churches began to toll, adding their peals to those from St. Isaac's. When the procession reached the Kazan Cathedral itself, it halted for a brief service, a procedure that was repeated in front of the Znamensky Church. With these interruptions, the cortege did not reach its destination until late afternoon. Remarkably, the time passed without incident.
Observers of the cossacks' funeral could not but have contrasted that occasion with the antigovernment demonstrations of the preceding months. On July 15 there were few workers to be seen, and, as one reporter noted, "the military bands did not play the 'Marseillaise' once all the way to the cemetery." A commentator in RecF on July 16 expressed great pleasure at what this outpouring of public sympathy for the slain cossacks suggested about the apparent transformation in the popular mood. "The days July 3-5 had thrust all the stench stored up over many months into the streets and revealed in all its horror and repulsiveness w7here the unrestricted sway of 'insurgent lackeys' and 'drunk helots' led," he wrote. "July 15 demonstrated what a healthy core had made its appearance, once the logic of the revolution caused this shady scum to be expelled." The cossacks' funeral was thus both a sad and a joyous occasion, the writer in RecV concluded—sad for the losses mourned and joyous because Russia could now embark on a period of "national rejuvenation."