"WHITE NIGHTS."

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 211, 22 September 1916, Page 4 (Supplement)

"WHITE NIGHTS."

WHAT RUSSIAN COUNTRY LIFE IS LIKE. By HAMILTON FYFE (Special corespondent in Russia for the London " Daily Mail.") Petrograd, June. I suppose it will surprise many people to learn that Russia has a hot summer, hotter than our usual summer in England, more sunshine, bluer skies. It ii this which explains the rush of townsfolk everv end of May to the country. They will not stay in the towns. They say it is unhealthy. They speak as it all the plagues raged during the not weather, which is not, you understand so hot as all that! Still, Moscow is detestably dusty, and the Petrograd canals smell worse than usual, and for all reasons it is pleasanter in the country. So off go all who can to their "datchas" (summer homos) to enjoy the sunshine and the clear sky and the soft, warm airs that are blown from the sun-baked south. It takes a long time to get rid of Winter. Well into April, sometimes into May, he keeps his grip on the rivers the earth is still under snow. Grad ually the snow melts, the ice breaks up and' floats away. The dark earth appears and very quickly looks as :f it had been lightly dusted over with a green powder. It recovers quickly, lor the snow has kept it warm. The trees are not so soon themselves again. They have been exposed to the cruel winds, the savage, silent, paralysing frosts For a month after winter has gone they are black and bare. Life, comes bacK to them only when they have been we", warmed by the sun. Last year they were not in leaf until June. This year a few hot May days turned them green, but then back came th° north-east winds, and for three weeks thev stood still. Now they are :n the r full glory. The lilacs are just frothing into flower, the chestnut candles almost ready for lighting. There is no hawthorn h«re, but a blossom which both looks and smells like it is filling the warm air «rith a drowsy delight. In the meadows great double kingcups I:fl proud heads of gold, daisies two inches across grow everywhere, violets are hi 1ing in the fresh forest grass. We are inlhe full tide of spring or earjy summer. But we have had a long time to wait for it. This week is what in tinold life used to be Ascot week. AA e re in the middle of June.

There is a passion in the summc,here. One only feels this in counties which have a long, hard winter. Thv earth seems to rejoice m its freedom. There is a luxuriance of growth whij.i we scarcely know in England, a sudde'i rush of life, a glory of light anJ warmth and splendour. Ask any Russian living abroad what he lliost misses It is a happy life that of the Russian and he will tell you "The White Nights.'' All through June, with a lit. tla overlapping on either side of it, sunset and sunrise are so near together that there is no darkness. Last night I was sitting out of doors reading at eleven o'clock. We dine at half-past, eight, and after strolling about the garden, or watching the after-glow flame in the sky and reflect its glory in the Gulf of Finland, we say, "It must be getting late." Someone looks at a watch. It is, midnight! Who could have guessed it ? We go reluctantly to ted, our rooms quite light still, unti' *ith hesitating hand we draw curtains over the windows. It seems a shame, to shut out these wonderful "Whits Nights." It is a happy life, that of the Russian "datchnik" (datcha"-dweller). Vorv simple and primitive, utterly different from English country-house life. To begin with, "date-has"' as a rule are wooden houses, only meani» for summer habitation. All winter most of them stand empty. When they are to he occupied again servants go down, l'ght fires, clean them up. Then the furniture is sent by road, p : led up on carts Not too much of it. Just enough tor comfort. Appearances are not considered. There is no state or ceremony. One lives out of doors as much as possible, or on glassed-in balconies, which are but one slight remove from the open air. Outside every "datcha" are set benches, bflth in the garden, if there is one, and in the road. Upon these it ia customary to sit and talk for hours. D»e«s is skletchy, and often scanty. Meals are at odd times, and can be prolonged or cut short at will. For example, a Russian hostess will say to the parlourmaid, "See if the cook has anything else to give us," or it may be. "Never mind about the chickens and the souffle, Masha. Just bring s baa.. We have had enough to cat." Most English people, accustomed to the formality and statp of countrv houses (delightful also in their way), would be revolted by the please life of the "datcha." But it is of a piece with everything else. With the wild gardens, growing as they please, letting Nature bo their gardener. With the servants so smiling and Iriendly and cheerful, but_ judged by our standards, so incompetent. With tine free-and-easy manners of th) "datchniki," determined to makio thtisummer as complete a contrast as possible to their winter existence in town. From September to May they live n almost hermetically sealed houses. They wrap themselves up to go out as ir they were at the North Pole. They take no exercise, breathe as little ires,'! nir as they can. Their complexion i grow wax-like, t'iier eyes dull From May til August they get as near Nature as they can. Instantly their appearance alters. They look healthy and strong. They feel vigorous and normal. Ail 111• ■ r.eau'k of frei\ air!

No wonder that all, Iroin tin poorest, who go to tiny cottages, travelling backwards and forward*, if the." must, jn trains crowded beyond belie!', to the high oilicials and rich merchant's, who own small palaces and have moto.cars to meet them at the railway station —no wonder everybody looks forward to "datcha''-time with longing No wonder all Russians, 'accustomed from childhood to spend the ''White Nights "in the country, think with delight of tins. 1 never-ending cv.emngs. when one day blends into anotlier >u imporcoptbly. without a break. They are strangely fascinating. I began by disliking them. It seemed an outrage upon the settled order of life that I should have, like the child in Stevenson's verses, "to go to bed by day "' Now I love the colours in the midnight sky, the clear, magical twilight before. dawn, tlie golden after-glow, with the fishing borts on the shinv water, th.i donve of Cronstadt Cathedral, the dis tant forts in the gulf, all dead-lilmi: against it.

In tho city the effects are sometimes even more enchanting. The churches stand so sharply cut against the whiteness of the night. The lines of ugiv palaces ilong the Neva have an otherworldly look about them ; become dignl- - d and almost beautiful. There : s a tremendous lovel ness oven in tho Jincet spires of the Admiralty and tii. 1 Fortress of Peter and Paul. Those who must stny in Petrograd solace themselves by driving to the Islands and walking to the Point, where t' v o arms

of the Neva flow into the gulf, and talking poetry as all Russians love to talk it, with the scents of summer heavy in the air; then crowd into a hot, expensive restaurant, as all Russians iove to crowd, to eat and drink rich foods and liquors until the sun is up at half-past two o' the morning, and in broad daylight they drive home to l>ed.

But for me the "datcha"', the quiet, dove-like evening, with a 'nightingale not far away, and the lap of the water on the rocks. That is where the " White Nights" are best of all.