Feast in Time of Plague
When Germany declared war on Russia on August 1, 1914, a surge of patriotism swept through society. Writers shifted toward military-patriotic journalism, students joined cadet schools, and noblewomen cared for the wounded. Yet within six months, the toll of long conflict and hardship became undeniable, and hopes for a quick end faded. Still, distinct moods and sounds—present since the war’s dawn—continued to surface throughout the city.
The destruction of the German embassy in St. Petersburg, followed by the shift of the city’s name to Petrograd, left a strong, uneasy impression. The era prompted reflections on unity among people, regardless of race, language, or past histories. An avant-garde artist remarked that humanity could be seen as a large, shared orchestra, a sentiment echoed in diary accounts of those years.
Many chose not true pacifism but a carefree disregard for the war, with some advocating simply to ignore the conflict to stay alive. The easiest escape was lavish social gatherings, especially for those with means, as the war raged on around them.
With the crisis, Emperor Nicholas II imposed strict prohibitions on alcohol, yet the number of eateries and their patrons rose. Liquor often appeared in disguise, passing as other drinks. When a celebrated Belgian poet arrived in the capital in 1915, the bohemian crowd gave him a grand welcome. The Stray Dog cabaret became a focal point of decadence for a time, symbolizing a feast in the face of plague, until its closure in March 1915. A famed poet delivered a pointed, provocative recital, drawing mixed reactions from the guests who attended.
Evening gatherings often turned boisterous. Guests toasted the foreign visitor, exchanged jokes, and sometimes shared intimate moments that surprised the poet himself, who felt the reception was less about the guest and more about the crowd’s mood.
During those years, an artist collaborated at the table on a fairy-tale ballet project, partly distracted by news of battles and uprisings. Russian ballet enjoyed international fame and did not waver with the war’s onset. Yet some observers, including influential patrons, questioned whether such artistic activity could continue amid disorder and uncertainty.
The Stray Dog cabaret, once a symbol of royal excess, gradually lost its audience as the era of privilege waned. The controversy over the bohemian scene underscored a wider disconnect between the elite and the broader public, with the poet’s sharp voice reflecting a clash between art and reality.
You who lived amid excess often found themselves at odds with the grim realities of life for many. Some observed how leisure and luxury coexisted with the brutal costs of war, while others questioned the morality of indulgence during such times.
Mayakovsky, unable to reach the front, spent much of the war years in Finland, surrounded by fellow poets and writers, working through the era’s tensions in their own circles.
The prohibition era also coincided with a rise in cocaine use, seen by many as a medical aid rather than a drug. By the time of revolution, the substance circulated freely behind the front and in the rear, signaling a broader decay among the upper strata.
most profitable business
The First World War split Russian society into two unequal camps: those prospering from the war economy and those not. Banks adjusted their lending to military orders, with profits soaring. By 1916, profits surged significantly, driven by commissions on loans that were larger than typical international rates. It would be bold to call them ordinary gains, especially when compared with practices elsewhere in the world during later conflicts.
The margins earned by industrialists supplying the military were also substantial, with estimates ranging widely but consistently showing strong returns. During the two-year war, Moscow’s entrepreneurs notably increased their wealth, dwarfing the cost of major state projects like contemporary battleship construction.
Exorbitant profits allowed the military-industrial elite to live in lavish fashion, spending on high-end amenities, exotic delicacies, and a refined entourage. At the New Year celebrations of 1916–1917, some venues boasted extraordinary prices for wine, specialty dishes, and chauffeured tours, far exceeding wages earned by many skilled workers just a few years earlier. A comparison helps highlight the gulf: janitors earned modest sums, mechanics earned more, and even well-paid professionals lived with tight budgets. The sum totals were difficult to translate into modern terms, but the contrast was obvious to any observer of the capital’s social scene.
As a result, an ultra-luxury market blossomed in major cities. Bohemian glass and imported goods flowed into the capital at steep prices, and newspapers overflowed with advertisements for luxury cars, expensive furniture, perfumes, and jewelry.
At the start of 1917, a prominent ballerina hosted a reception near the imperial residence where extravagant displays of lilies of the valley and gilded serviceware captivated guests. The memory of such dinners, plated on fine Limoges and served with ornate cutlery, lingered as a symbol of opulence in a time of turmoil. A personal recollection describes the meticulous arrangements and the sense of impending change that hovered over social life.
Some nobles and even the imperial family sought to curb this excess. In late 1915, the Tsar’s daughters appeared in public in modest attire, a gesture that did not please many elites and was interpreted as a misstep. This tension contributed to the 1916 decision to curb luxury imports, though earlier attempts to enforce such limits had failed.
Of course, it was not difficult for the wealthy to dodge conscription. Even high-level officials enjoyed a comfortable reserve, while foreign observers entered Petrograd and noted the atmosphere growing stifling. Champagne flowed freely among civil servants who should have stood at the front lines, a sign of the widening gap between power and the rest of society.
Historians often argue that Russia bore the least obligation among the nations involved in the war. The lavish life of a select group, including poets and artists who profited from wartime orders, did not by itself spark revolution. Yet the alienation of the elite, coupled with a pervasive sense of decay, helped erode the social fabric and accelerate the collapse that followed.