Russia. St. Petersburg, Moscow, Kharkoff, Riga, Odessa, the German provinces on the Baltic, the Steppes, the Crimea, and the interior of the Empire / By J.G. Kohl.

  • Johann Georg Kohl
Date:
1844
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: Russia. St. Petersburg, Moscow, Kharkoff, Riga, Odessa, the German provinces on the Baltic, the Steppes, the Crimea, and the interior of the Empire / By J.G. Kohl. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    ing]y participates in all the severity of a Russian winter, but enjoys few of the advantages which to the northern Russian go far to redeem the intensity of the cold. In northern Russia, and even in the Ukraine, the snow remains on the ground during the greater part of the winter, and the sledges quickly wear the surface of the road into a smooth mass of ice, over which the heaviest goods may be transported with a speed and facility surpassed only by a railroad. The Russian, therefore, usually prefers the winter months, not only for travelling, but also for the con¬ veyance of heavy goods from one place to another. To the denizen of the steppe tliis natural railroad is unknown. The storms that prevail throughout the greater part of the winter keep the snow in a constant state of agitation, and prevent it from “ caking” on the ground. The snow, in consequence, never covers the steppe, hut seems to lie scattered over it in patches according as the wind may have drifted it about. When the snow melts on the steppe, the spring may be said to com¬ mence. This usually takes place in April, but May is sometimes far advanced before the mass of water has had time to find its way into the rivers. During this melting season, the whole surface of the steppe is converted into a sea of mud, through which neither man nor beast can wade without positive danger. Through every ravine rushes a torrent of the dirtiest water that can well be imagined, and about the dwellings of men the accumulated filth of the wdnter is at once exposed to view, by the disappearance of the snowy mantle that, for a season, had chaiitably covered a multitude of sins. This operation is frequently interrupted by the return of frost, and the descent of fresh masses of snow, for there is no country, perhaps, where Winter makes a harder fight foi it, befoie lie allows himself to be beaten out of the field. For a few days, per¬ haps, a delightful south wind will diversify the plain with tulips, crocuses, and hyacinths ; then all at once a rude north-easter will come scorning from the Ural mountains, making the flowers vanish in a trice, and enve¬ loping the whole scene anew in one white shroud; another shift of the wind, and a gale from the north-west, will come sweeping along, dis¬ charging its heavy clouds, and washing the face of the steppe from the Ural to the Carpathians. When at last boisterous old Hyems has really been forced to beat his retreat, a most delightful period of the year succeeds, and the steppe, covered with a beautiful and luxuriant herbage, smiles like a lovely oasis between the parched desolation ol the summer and the dreary waste of the winter. The whole earth now seems clad m the colour of Hope, while the sky assumes that of Truth; and though it is certainly monotonous enough to behold nothing but blue above and green below, yet the recollection of past hardships, and the consciousness of present abundance, make the season one of rejoicing to the native, and even excite for a while the admiration of the stranger. The latter how¬ ever, is certain, before long, to grow weary of a spring unadorned by a single flowering shrub, unvaried by a single bubbling brook. Not a lull to break the tedium of the landscape, through which a well-mounted rider may gallop for hundreds of leagues, and scarcely meet an object to make him conscious that he has quitted the spot whence lie started . From Hungary he may urge his steed to the borders of Circassia with¬ out passing one grove of trees; from the Carpathians to the cap.tnl ot Mongolia he will not once be gladdened by the sound of a streamlet murmuring over its pebbly bed. Grass, grass, grass—and nothing but