unsupported, with all eyes upon her, and it required no slight amount of
skill and self-possession to cross the hall, bow, and carry her superb
train to the opposite side, without turning her back on the Imperial
presence. At the end of an hour the dazzling group gathered on the right
equalled in numbers the long line marching up on the left,--and still
they came. It was a luxury of color, scarcely to be described,--all
flowery and dewy tints, in a setting of white and gold. There were
crimson, maroon, blue, lilac, salmon, peach-blossom, mauve, Magenta,
silver-gray, pearl-rose, daffodil, pale orange, purple, pea-green,
sea-green, scarlet, violet, drab, and pink,--and, whether by accident or
design, the succession of colors never shocked by too violent contrast.
This was the perfection of scenic effect; and we lingered, enjoying it
exquisitely, until the the last of several hundred ladies closed the
wonderful spectacle.
The festival of Epiphany is celebrated by the blessing of the waters of
the Neva, followed by a grand military review on the Admiralty Square.
We were invited to witness both ceremonies from the windows of the
Winter Palace, where, through the kindness of Prince Dolgorouki, we
obtained favorable points of view. As the ceremonies last two or three
hours, an elegant breakfast was served to the guests in the Moorish
Hall. The blessing of the Neva is a religious festival, with the
accompaniment of tapers, incense, and chanting choirs, and we could only
see that the Emperor performed his part uncloaked and bare-headed in the
freezing air, finishing by descending the steps of an improvised chapel
and well, (the building answered both purposes,) and drinking the water
from a hole in the ice. Far and wide over the frozen surface similar
holes were cut, where, during the remainder of the day, priests
officiated, and thousands of the common people were baptized by
immersion. As they generally came out covered with ice, warm booths were
provided for them on the banks, where they thawed themselves out,
rejoicing that they would now escape sickness or misfortune for a year
to come.
The review requires a practised military pen to do it justice, and I
fear I must give up the attempt. It was a "small review," only about
twenty-five thousand troops being under arms. In the uniformity of size
and build of the men, exactness of equipment, and precision of movement,
it would be difficult to imagine anything more perfect. All sense of the
individual soldier was lost in the grand sweep and wheel and march of
the columns. The Circassian chiefs, in their steel skull-caps and shirts
of chain mail, seemed to have ridden into their places direct from the
Crusades. The Cossacks of the Don, the Ukraine, and the Ural managed
their little brown or black horses (each regiment having its own color)
so wonderfully, that, as we looked down upon them, each line resembled a
giant caterpillar, moving sidewise with its thousand legs creeping as
one. These novel and picturesque elements constituted the principal
charm of the spectacle.
The passing away of winter was signalized by an increase of daylight
rather than a decrease of cold. The rivers were still locked, the
ice-hills frequented, the landscape dull and dead; but by the beginning
of February we could detect signs of the returning sun. When the sky was
clear, (a thing of rarest occurrence,) there was _white_ light at
noonday, instead of the mournful yellow or orange gloom of the previous
two months. After the change had fairly set in, it proceeded more and
more rapidly, until our sunshine was increased at the rate of seven or
eight minutes per day. When the vernal equinox came, and we could sit
down to dinner at sunset, the spell of death seemed to be at last
broken. The fashionable drive, of an afternoon, changed from the Nevskoi
Prospekt to the Palace Quay on the Neva; the Summer Garden was cleared
of snow, and its statues one by one unboxed; in fine days we could walk
there, and there coax back the faded color to a child's face. There,
too, walked Alexander II., one of the crowd, leading his little daughter
by the hand; and thither, in a plain little _caleche_, drove the
Empress, with her youngest baby on her lap.
But when the first ten days of April had passed and there was still no
sign of spring, we began to grow impatient. How often I watched the
hedges around the Michailoffsky Palace, knowing that the buds would
there first swell! How we longed for a shimmer of green under the brown
grass, an alder tassel, a flush of yellow on the willow wands, a sight
of rushing green water! One day, a week or so later, we were engaged to
dine on Vassili Ostrow. I had been busily occupied until late in the
afternoon, and when we drove out upon the square, I glanced, as usual,
towards Peter the Great. Lo! behind him flashed and glittered the free,
the rejoicing Neva! Here and there floated a cake of sullen ice, but the
great river had bared his breast to the sun, which welcomed him after
six months of absence. The upper pontoon-bridges were already spanned
and crowded with travel, but the lower one, carried away before it could
be secured, had been borne down by the stream and jammed against and
under the solid granite and iron of the Nikolai Bridge. There was a
terrible crowd and confusion at the latter place; all travel was
stopped, and we could get neither forward nor backward. Presently,
however, the Emperor appeared upon the scene; order was the instant
result; the slow officials worked with a will; and we finally reached
our host's residence half an hour behind the time. As we returned, at
night, there was twilight along the northern sky, and the stars sparkled
on the crystal bosom of the river.
This was the snapping of winter's toughest fetter, but it was not yet
spring. Before I could detect any sign of returning life in Nature, May
had come. Then, little by little, the twigs in the marshy thickets began
to show yellow and purple and brown, the lilac-buds to swell, and some
blades of fresh grass to peep forth in sheltered places. This, although
we had sixteen hours of sunshine, with an evening twilight which shifted
into dusky dawn under the North Star! I think it was on the 13th of May
that I first realized that the season had changed, and for the last time
saw the noble-hearted Ruler who is the central figure of these memories.
The People's Festival--a sort of Russian May-day--took place at
Catharinenhof, a park and palace of the famous Empress, near the shore
of the Finnish Gulf. The festival, that year, had an unusual
significance. On the 3d of March the edict of Emancipation was finally
consummated, and twenty-two millions of serfs became forever free: the
Polish troubles and the menace of the Western powers had consolidated
the restless nobles, the patient people, and the plotting
revolutionists, the orthodox and dissenting sects, into one great
national party, resolved to support the Emperor and maintain the
integrity of the Russian territory: and thus the nation was marvellously
strengthened by the very blow intended to cripple it.
At least a hundred thousand of the common people (possibly, twice that
number) were gathered together in the park of Catharinenhof. There were
booths, shows, flying-horses, refreshment saloons, jugglers, circuses,
balloons, and exhibitions of all kinds: the sky was fair, the turf green
and elastic, and the swelling birch-buds scented the air. I wandered
about for hours, watching the lazy, contented people, as they leaped and
ran, rolled on the grass, pulled off their big boots and aired their
naked legs, or laughed and sang in jolly chorus. About three in the
afternoon there was a movement in the main avenue of the park. Hundreds
of young _mujiks_ appeared, running at full speed, shouting out, tossing
their caps high in the air, and giving their long blonde locks to the
wind. Instantly the crowd collected on each side, many springing like
cats into the trees; booths and shows were deserted, and an immense
multitude hedged the avenue. Behind the leaping, shouting, cap-tossing
_avant-garde_ came the Emperor, with three sons and a dozen generals, on
horseback, cantering lightly. One cheer went up from scores of
thousands; hats darkened the air; eyes blazing with filial veneration
followed the stately figure of the monarch, as he passed by, gratefully
smiling and greeting on either hand. I stood among the people and
watched their faces. I saw the phlegmatic Slavonic features transformed
with a sudden and powerful expression of love, of devotion, of
gratitude, and then I knew that the throne of Alexander II. rested on a
better basis than tradition or force. I saw therein another side of this
shrewd, cunning, patient, and childlike race, whom no other European
race yet understands and appreciates,--a race yet in the germ, but with
qualities out of which a people, in the best sense of the word, may be
developed.
The month of May was dark, rainy, and cold; and when I left St.
Petersburg, at its close, everybody said that a few days would bring the
summer. The leaves were opening, almost visibly, from hour to hour.
Winter was really over, and summer was just at the door; but I found,
upon reflection, that I had not had the slightest experience of spring.
NEEDLE AND GARDEN.
THE STORY OF A SEAMSTRESS WHO LAID DOWN HER NEEDLE AND BECAME A
STRAWBERRY-GIRL.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
CHAPTER VII.
I have already mentioned that the little holding of forty acres, which
my progenitor took up when he came to Philadelphia, had in process of
time been subdivided into many smaller ones. These had been successively
improved as the new owners entered upon them, some very indifferently,
some quite respectably,--many of them being devoted to gardening for the
city markets. The occupants were not much of neighbors to us, though
friendly enough in their way; among them, however, was a family by the
name of Tetchy who claimed to have some acquaintance with us. This name,
Tetchy, always struck me as a singular one; and I have often thought it
must have been a corruption of _Touchy_, as a constitutional tendency to
the infirmity thereby signified was continually apparent in their
conduct toward all who came in contact with them. The whole family,
comprising the parents, two daughters, and a son, were a jealous,
envious set, rarely saying a kind word to any one, and never, as my
mother often remarked, doing a kind thing even to us, who were more
sociable with them than any other of the neighbors. Of course they had
abundance of ridiculous pride, though having nothing to be proud of; and
one of the daughters, Miss Belinda, was remarkable for holding up her
head as if she had been the finest lady in the land, besides having a
curt, snappish way of speaking, that made me habitually afraid of her.
These people had a piece of ground of the same size as ours, which the
father worked as a garden. He was very skilful at gardening, and kept
everything in such complete order that I would many times have gone in
to admire his fruits and flowers, had it not been for the crisp
reception that one was sure to get from Miss Belinda Tetchy and her
mother. They never invited us inside the gate, and seemed jealous of our
learning any particulars of what they were doing. The father had some
grains of good-nature in his disposition, and would have been glad to
have me come in occasionally: I am sure of this, as he often came into
our garden and gave me very useful advice and instruction about what I
was cultivating. But his wife's temper was a bar to all hospitality, and
our intercourse with the family was accordingly as limited as possible,
except with the son, Arthur, who made himself quite intimate at our
house, and was disposed to set up for a beau to my sister, though I
never could discover that she had any particular liking for him. Even
he, however, was habitually taciturn about what was done in their
garden, as if he had been well drilled in the art of concealment.
We never could tell with certainty how this family contrived to live as
well as they did. The father had no other employment than that afforded
by his garden, at least that we ever knew. There was a sort of mystery
about what he did with his most valuable fruit. We saw him taking it
away in a wheelbarrow, but it was always carefully covered, and none but
his family knew whether he took it to market, or disposed of it to the
fruit stores in the city. The family never boasted of how much they
raised; and though we were often curious to know more than we did,
myself especially, yet the fear of being snubbed by Miss Belinda
prevented us from making any inquiries. The daughters did nothing,
unless it were to dress well, a great deal better than any of us, and
to be often in the street. It is true that Arthur was an apprentice, and
was no expense to the family; but beyond what he received from his
employer we could not learn that they had any income but what was
produced from the garden.
Still, all the neighborhood knew that old Tetchy had an immense bed of
strawberries; they could see that through the cracks in the fence. Then
he had fixed up a large number of seats in different parts of the
garden, and there, during the season, was a constant throng of visitors,
who came to eat strawberries and cream. He had carried on this business
for a great many years. I had never noticed these things very
particularly, until my mother and I began debating how it was that the
Tetchy family contrived to live and dress so well without apparently
doing anything except looking after a garden no larger than our own. But
when my curiosity had been awakened, I started out on a course of
inquiry that resulted in throwing more light on the subject than the
Tetchys supposed. I watched the crowd of visitors who entered the
garden-gate every evening in June to eat strawberries, and found it so
large that toward the last of the season I began to count them. The
number was so great that it amazed us, and my mother was sure I must
have been mistaken. I regretted not having begun the enumeration when
the season first opened, as that would have given us some idea of what
we had vainly tried to ascertain from the family,--the number of pints
of strawberries they raised in a season. My sister had entered heartily
into the spirit of inquiry which now moved me, and became extremely
accessible to Arthur Tetchy, even consenting to walk out with him
several evenings, in the hope of being invited into the garden, or of
getting some information out of him, in aid of the common cause. But the
fellow had been so well tutored on the subject that he proved a regular
know-nothing,--he had no idea what quantity they raised,--in short, he
refused to tell. But in addition to what was consumed in the garden, we
saw, during the day, numerous callers with baskets, and we knew that
their errand was to buy strawberries. Then old Tetchy was seen carrying
away other baskets into the city, so that during the season the demand
was evidently unintermitted.
We had often heard these strawberries spoken of as being of superior
size and quality. Indeed, we one day read a notice of them in our penny
paper, representing them as being nearly as large as eggs, and
describing the garden. It also spoke in very extraordinary terms of the
richness of the cream. But I never could understand how this could be,
as we knew that old Tetchy kept only one cow, and it was impossible for
one cow to make cream enough--real cream--for even a quarter of the
people who came to eat his strawberries. I thought so strange of this
piece that I ventured to show it to Miss Belinda, and inquired very
innocently how they could get so much cream, and if it were not wrong in
the newspapers to publish such mistakes. But, what was very unusual with
her, she was wonderfully pleased with the matter, and said they had two
cows,--one that they kept in the stable, and another in the kitchen.
"How?" I inquired, in amazement,--"keep a cow in the kitchen? Why, is it
not very inconvenient?"
"Not at all," she replied. "The greatest convenience possible. But the
kitchen cow has an iron tail!"
"But did the newspaper man know this?" I asked, not being familiar with
the tricks of trade, and utterly ignorant how such things were managed.
"No, indeed!" she replied,--adding, with what I considered great
superciliousness, "we sent him a basket of strawberries, and invited him
down last week to take some with cream, and when he came it _was_ cream
that _he_ got,--our best. That was well done; and ever since he
published that piece we have been so crowded that the new cow in the
kitchen supplies more milk than the old one in the stable."
I had never known either her or any of the family to be so
communicative before. It was an entirely new idea to me, and rather
shook my confidence in the newspapers, not supposing they were ever
deceived.
But Tetchy's berries were unquestionably very superior ones. We had
frequently seen them, and on one occasion my sister and I had gone in
with the evening throng and called for saucers of them, merely to learn
for ourselves how the business was carried on and what prices were
obtained. I am sure that not near so much civility was shown to us as to
the other customers. No doubt, as we were neighbors, and had been very
inquisitive, they suspected our object in coming.
We both remarked on the deplorable weakness of the cream, and had a good
laugh over the method of its manufacture. Jane thought of calling for a
second saucer, and of asking the fair Tetchy who served us if she would
not do us the favor to let the watery portion be put into a separate
vessel. I was really frightened for fear she would do as she proposed,
as I knew her fondness for pleasantries of this sort, and also, that so
far from being taken as a joke, it would bring down upon us a storm of
wrath. We were surprised at the smallness of the saucers containing the
fruit. Certainly the contents of as many as four or five could have been
put into a pint. Then the sugar was supplied in meagre quantity, though
at that time cheaper than ever before known. There were common tin
spoons, so valueless as to make it no object for a thief to steal them,
and of no consequence if they were bent up or thrown away by roystering
visitors. The supply of cheap sugar was not sufficient to overcome the
sharp acid of the fruit, showing that the demand was so urgent as to
compel the picking of the berries before the sun had imparted to them
the luscious sweetness of complete ripeness. As at all popular summer
resorts, the price charged was provokingly disproportioned to the fare;
but then we remembered that we had come in pursuit of knowledge, that
knowledge always has in some way to be paid for, and that the
strawberry-season is very short.
Though thus ascertaining the prices at which Tetchy disposed of the
fruit in his popular strawberry-garden, we were unable to learn what he
obtained for that which he carried away in little baskets to his private
customers. But we supposed it must go to families who paid the highest
figures, as the fruit was carefully selected, the smaller berries being
served up to the evening customers, who, viewing them by an indifferent
light, were unable to form a judgment as to their size and appearance,
and with whom the mere strawberry-flavor was sufficient. My mother
called our attention to one circumstance,--that all the fruit was sold
at retail prices, and that, if there was any profit in the business,
these people got the whole of it. At the rates they were selling, they
must be receiving at least a dollar a quart, and that clear of the cost
of the cream from their two cows. I suppose it might have been
considered impertinent in us to be thus prying into our neighbors'
concerns, wondering how they contrived to live and how much money they
made by their business. But we had no idea of doing them any injury; I
was only desirous of doing something better for myself than working all
my life on a sewing-machine. And besides, I have no doubt there were
folks around us who were quite as inquisitive as to how we managed to
get along, and that, too, from mere idle curiosity, without any view to
bettering themselves by imitating us.
In addition to these little diplomatic efforts to obtain information as
to how much money our neighbors were making, many others were tried. I
had already suggested to my mother and sister the idea of my undertaking
the business of raising strawberries; and hence, as they both fell in
with the project, our common effort to learn whether our neighbors
really did support themselves by an employment so apparently
insignificant. There was one point about which we were greatly
perplexed. The strawberry-season lasted only fifteen to twenty days,
and we could not understand how the Tetchys could make enough in that
short period to keep them a whole year. It is true we knew that they
could sell at enormous retail prices all that they were able to produce,
and hence we became satisfied that it was simply a question of quantity.
If they could produce enough, even within the short period of twenty
days, they could do all that they appeared to be doing during the
remainder of the year,--that is, comparatively nothing.
Now not one of us had any knowledge of the strawberry-culture. My
father, strangely enough, had never introduced it into our garden,
though he knew what our neighbors had for many years been doing. We had
no agricultural publications to instruct us, and we could not form the
remotest idea of how much fruit an acre could be made to yield. We did
not even know the size of our neighbor's strawberry-bed. But one day,
when the fruit season was over, my sister was bold enough to invite
herself into Tetchy's garden. She and Arthur had been taking a walk, and
he was about parting with her at the garden-gate, when she pushed in
with him, and obliged him to go all round the strawberry-ground. It lay
in one piece, and, though quite large, she managed to count the number
of steps as they strolled round it. Arthur had not the faintest idea of
what she was after, but flattered himself that she was desirous of
having a little more of his society. When Fred came home that evening,
Jane reported to him the number of steps she had taken in her
strawberry-circuit, and Fred ciphered it out for us that the plot
contained exactly an acre. This was an important item of information for
us. We knew that old Tetchy's lot was of precisely the same size as
ours,--an acre and a half,--and we felt that we could spare an acre for
a strawberry-bed as well as he. We were firmly impressed with the belief
that their acre of strawberries kept the whole family; and I felt sure,
that, if I could only learn the mode of culture, we could in some way
find a market for all we could produce,--although I did not contemplate
inviting customers to our house to eat sour strawberries and such
terribly diluted cream as they were selling. I often saw the Tetchy
girls hoeing and weeding, and have no doubt they performed a very large
part of that important labor. It was light work, as well as home-work,
such as I was extremely anxious to obtain. The wholesome out-door
exercise, I was confident, would give robustness to my health,--and, if
the summer sun did change me from a blonde into a brunette, the winter
intermission would bring that all right again.
We saw there were difficulties in the way of making a beginning, because
of our total ignorance of the business. But among us there was a good
deal of resolution. There was also a strong desire to learn; and a
willingness to do so, coupled with persevering energy of purpose, rarely
fails of its object. We were also prompt to act, whenever we found
action desirable. While others would be deliberating, we would be
pushing on; and I have always found that going forward with spirit and
confidence is one of the surest pledges of success; for it is he who
hesitates and doubts, and so does nothing, that unfits himself for doing
anything.