Mothers & Daughters: New Winter

NEW WINTER

Late Winter 1840

“Wake up, girls! It is snowing!” said Nanny Nastya. “Quickly, now. Let’s go sledding!”

“Really Nanny?” said Vera, joyfully. “But how? There was so much mud yesterday?”

“Well, yes,” said Baba Lena, walking out of her office. “Yesterday there was mud, and at night the wind blew, drove up snow clouds, frost gripped the ground, and by morning everything was covered with snow.” She always got up at 6 a.m., summer or winter. “Look how nice everything looks in the yard,” she said, opening the curtains. “Light and white!”

And it was true. Everything outside the window was dazzlingly light from the bright whiteness of the first snow, fluffily covering the roofs, trees, and everything that was before their eyes. Large, furry flakes speckled the air and fell softly to the ground. Everything was quiet, as if both people and animals were hiding. There was no noise from the street, no clattering of carriages, no barking or chirping of birds. No movement was visible except for the falling white flakes, tumbling over one another.

Lelya, who was still lying in a ball under a warm blanket, suddenly jumped up and ran barefoot to the window. “SNOW!”

“Lelya!” shouted Baba Lena. “Lelya!” You’ll catch a cold! Go put on your stockings and shoes, then run as much as you like.”

Nanny Nastya was already dressing Vera, who was shaking. Her shivers were not at all from the cold, rather it was the thought of being cold when looking out the window. The light was in her eyes, so she turned away, covering her face with her hands. “Baba Lena,” she asked, “Why is it so quiet? Where are all the people and birds?”

“The people are sitting at home, and the birds are also hiding. Look, under the canopy of the roof, along the eaves, how many pigeons are sitting, ruffled. They huddle against the wall, hiding from the snow; and as soon as it stops, they will all fly off for food. Then the sparrows will fly out, chirp, jump around the yard, and perhaps even fight with joy that winter has come—”

“Look! There’s a crow over there!” Vera interrupted, pointing to a blackbird flying heavily from the cathedral dome to the bell tower. “Look, how she croaks! “Is she not afraid of the snow?”

“Crows are winter birds,” said Baba Lena. “They are not afraid of the cold. Look how many of them there are in the bell tower! The cathedral crosses are all covered with black beads.”

“Crows are birds,” said Lelya. “I don’t like them,” said Lelya.

“Why are they disgusting?” asked Verochka.

“Ugly, clumsy, black, and fat! When they sing, they croak so awfully!”

“How are they to blame that God created them like this?” asked Baba Lena. “So, you don’t like any ugly people? Well, I’m also fat and clumsy, and I can’t sing. You must not love me either?”

“What are you talking about,” Lelya muttered in embarrassment and blushing all over. She then burst out laughing. “Are you a bird? Why does a person need to sing? You play the piano perfectly, and you draw, and you know how many different things work! You embroider with silks, knit lace, and glue different things from cardboard and shells! You make such lovely flowers! Lord! You know so much! You can teach everything—history and geography! And you speak so many languages…”

“Ok, ok,” said Baba Lena, “that’s enough, now.”

Lelya continued chatting away. “…You collect antiquities, coins…My God, What don’t you know?”

“It is you, it seems, who thinks that I’m like a crow—a crow from the fable that is charmed by the fox’s singing. Alright “Lisa Patrikeevna,” stop flattering me with how much I know, and stick with your lessons, so that you can know more than me!” Baba Lena hugged Lelya tightly and kissed her curly head.[1]

Vera rushed to Baba Lena, assuring her that one couldn’t find anyone else so kind and smart in the whole world!

It could not be denied. Lelya was dulcimer with her flattery, but she was being sincere. Baba Lena was a wonderful woman, like few in the world. She loved serious studies, and was such an esteemed scholar, that everyone was amazed at her depth of knowledge. But even more than science (and the things of the world) she dearly loved her family—especially her grandchildren. She taught them well and knew how to amuse them like no one else could. The children loved nothing more than listening to her wonderful stories, and they could listen to them for hours. At five or six years old, children had few lessons. Vera usually finished hers before breakfast, and then walked, played, and could do whatever she wanted. More often than not, she wanted to sneak quietly upstairs to Baba Lena’s rooms. If she didn’t find her in the bedroom doing some kind of needlework, then Vera knew that she was in the office, painting flowers or doing something “serious.” In addition to all kinds of embroidery, knitting, and weaving, Baba Lena knew how to do many interesting works. She made flowers from satin, velvet, and various materials; she glued such wonderful things from cardboard, shells, colored and gold paper from broken mirror glass and beads and colorful seeds. She could bind books; sometimes she would write something herself, draw something herself, and bind it into a book herself. But of all the things she excelled in, it was drawing at which she was best—especially drawings of flowers. But these activities were all considered trifles to Baba Lena, “just a rest from a serious matter,” that she was researching in her study. This laboratory of ideas, where she read and wrote in the several languages she knew, was quite mysterious to the children. Here Baba Lena sorted out her collections of rarities, relics of fauna, flora, historical antiquities, antediluvian bones, stuffed animals, and monstrous birds. She cataloged all these things herself, labeling them and arranging them beautifully in cabinets and drawers under glass, on shelves, and along the walls of her study.[2] She was engaged in archaeology, numismatics, and botany; and she did not study them as a “lady-amateur,” but positively, in practice, was in scientific correspondence, and actively exchanged her research and drawings with famous European naturalists like R. I. Murchison (President of the London Geographical Society,) G. S. Karelin, and Xavier Hommaire de Hell.

Lelya was fond of Baba Lena’s adventure stories. There was Lady Esther Stanhope, a famous English adventurer (who traveled the whole world in a man’s suit,) and who once said that Baba Lena “would have been famous in Europe, but who is completely underestimated due to her misfortune of being born on the shores of the Volga River.”^[3] Then there were stories about J. L. Stephens and his thrilling new work about the Americas. As Stephens noted, questions were now being asked about the “first peopling of America.” Some said the Native Americans were a separate race, “not descended from the same common father with the rest of mankind.” Others ascribed their origin to “some remnant of the antediluvian inhabitants of the earth who survived the deluge which swept away the greatest part of the human species in the days of Noah.” He even mentioned Joseph Smith, “an enterprising American” who “turned the tables on the Old World and planted the ark itself within the State of New York.”[4] This man Smith was the prophet of the Mormons it was said. Most captivating of all was Stephens’s story of a mysterious lost Maya city that was recounted to him by a Spanish Padre, who swore to him that he had seen it with his own two eyes.[5]

← Previous

SOURCES:

[1] “Lisa Patrikeevna,” or “Kupa Lisa,” is a fox character in Slavic folklore who is a trickster archetype.

[2] Sinnett, Alfred Percy. Incidents In The Life Of Madame Blavatsky. G. Redway. London, England. (1886): 34-35; Zhelihovskaya, Vera Petrovna. How I Was Little. A. F. Devrien. St. Petersburg, Russia. (1898): 127-132.

[3] Zhelikhovskaya, Vera Petrovna. “Helena Andreyevna Hahn (1835-1842.)” Russkaia Starina. Vol. LII, No. 3 (March 1887): 733-766.

[4] Stephens, John L. Incidents Of Travel In Central America, Chiapas, And Yucatan: Vol. I. Harper & Brothers. New York, New York. (1841): 96.

[5] Stephens writes: “He had heard of it many years before at the village of Chajul and was told by the villagers that from the topmost ridge of the sierra this city was distinctly visible. He was then young, and with much labor climbed to the naked summit of the sierra, from which at a height of ten or twelve thousand feet, he looked over an immense plain extending to Yucatan and the Gulf of Mexico and saw at a great distance a large city spread over a great space, and with turrets white and glittering in the sun. The traditionary account of the Indians of Chajul is, that no white man has ever reached this city; that the inhabitants speak the Maya language, are aware that a race of strangers has conquered the whole country around and murder any white man who attempts to enter their territory. They have no coin or other circulating medium; no horses, cattle, mules, or other domestic animals except fowls, and the cocks they keep underground to prevent their crowing being heard.” [Stephens, John L. Incidents Of Travel In Central America, Chiapas, And Yucatan: Vol. II. Harper & Brothers. New York, New York. (1841): 195-1996.]