The Russian Countess by Edith Sollohub

Author:Edith Sollohub [Edith Sollohub]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781907605086
Publisher: Impress Books
Published: 2011-07-23T16:00:00+00:00

13

GOODBYE TO THE PAST

After the hungry winter of 1919, the spring and summer brought little relief to those of us still unable to get away.

It was the only complete summer I ever spent in Petersburg, and I think it must have been the drabbest summer that city ever had. The weather was bad: plenty of rain and fog, very little sunshine. The government had transferred its seat to Moscow, the port was closed to foreign trade, the city was cut off from the outside world, and the majority of industrial and commercial enterprises had closed down. Houses were closed, abandoned, the smashed windows open to rain and wind. The wooden paving blocks of the streets had been partly taken up in winter and used as fuel for heating, and the blocks that were left were now loose and swam about in the middle of the streets after it had rained, or served as toys to the skinny street children playing listlessly in the pale sunshine. And the main worry on all faces was – food, where to find food.

The “wandering milk-queues” were a specialty of Petrograd at the time – at least they cropped up in great numbers then, and I never came across any in other places. They roamed about often until noon through drizzly rain in empty streets. They roamed in search of a milkman who was supposed to come sometimes to this or that street corner. These “wandering queues” were a quaint sight and would have made one laugh if it had not been so tragic and sad to see haggard people, often holding children by the hand, wandering in this way.

Such a queue would often form at dawn, at some spot in the street where, to a casual observer, there would be no reason to start one. Why should the queue start here and not twenty yards further on? But the reason was always the same: a milkman had stopped his cart here yesterday – and so there was a chance that he would return today. Soon enough, more and more people would join the queue, and discussions would begin about a better spot for waiting. If the more enterprising element of the queue took the upper hand, the first person in the line was forced to move and to lead the crowd as directed towards a supposedly better place. With shouts of “left, left, the corner opposite the post office … ” or “stop here, I saw him here two days ago … ” the queue would make its ragged way forward, accompanied as a rule by a number of uncomplimentary remarks about the “leader”. If the leader had a strong character he would not stand for these remarks, he would reply and lose his temper, but he would stick to his rightful prerogatives as head of the queue. Often arguments grew very hot, and the shouting finally drew the attention of patrolling soldiers – either militia or Cheka – and the whole queue was then dispersed, its members scampering away like rabbits.

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