The country from Piatisbanskaia is dreary, and void of vegetation. The stanitzas are few and far between, the land lies waste, and the sand-hills and hot winds betoken the approach to the deserts of the Caspian. Nothing is more saddening to the imagination, than the lifeless aspect and uniform hues of these endless plains. One is surprised to meet in them, from time to time, some miserable Cossack villages, and cannot tell how the inhabitants can exist amidst such desolation. This sad sterility is the work of men, rather than of nature. The present system of government of the Don Cossacks is an insuperable bar to agricultural improvement; and so long as it exists, the land must remain uncultivated.
But, as we have already remarked, all is contrast in Russia. Extremes of all kinds meet there without any transition: from a desert you pass into a populous town, from a cabin to a palace, from a Tatar mosque into an ancient Christian cathedral, from an arid plain into the cheerful German colonies. Surprises follow one upon the other without end, and give a peculiar zest to travelling, scarcely to be experienced in any other part of Europe.
It is particularly in approaching Sarepta that one feels the force of these reflections: the novel impressions that there await the traveller who arrives benumbed in soul from the dreary wilderness, come upon him with the bewildering effect of a marvellous dream. Even were Sarepta whisked away, and set down in the middle of Switzerland, one could not fail to be delighted with so charming a place; but to feel all its real excellence, one should come to it weary and worn as we were, one should have known what it was to long for a little shade and water, as for manna from the skies, and have plodded on for many days through a country like that we have described, under the unmitigating rays of a roasting sun.
Picture to yourself a pretty little German town, with its high gabled houses, its fruit trees, fountains, and promenades, its scrupulous neatness, and its comfortable and happy people, and you will have an idea of Sarepta: industry, the fine arts, morality, sociability, commerce, are all combined in that favoured spot.
The Moravian colony, shut in within a bend of the Volga, in the midst of the Kalmuck hordes, eloquently demonstrates what miracles decision and perseverance can effect. It is the first shoot planted by Europe in that remote region, amidst those pastoral tribes so jealous of their independence; and the changes wrought by the Moravian brethren on the rude soil they have fertilised, and on the still ruder character of the inhabitants, give striking evidence of the benefits of our civilisation.
Every thing breathes of peace and contentment in this little town, on which rests the blessing of God. It is the only place I know in Russia in which the eye is never saddened by the sight of miserable penury. No bitter thought mingles there with the interesting observations gleaned by curiosity. Every house is a workshop, every individual a workman. During the day every one is busy; but in the evening the thriving and cheerful population throng the walks and the square, and give a most pleasing air of animation to the town.
Like most Germans, the Moravian brethren are passionately fond of music. The piano, heard at evening in almost every house, reminds them of their fatherland, and consoles them for the vicinity of the Kalmucks.
We visited the establishments of the Moravian sisters, where, by a fortunate chance, we met a German lady who spoke French very well. The life of the sisters is tranquil, humble, and accordant with the purest principles of morality and religion. They are forty in number, and appear happy, as much so at least as it is possible to be in a perfectly monastic state of existence. Consummate order, commodious apartments, and a handsome garden, make the current of their lives flow with unruffled smoothness, as far as outward things are concerned. Music, too, is a great resource for them. We observed in the prayer-room three pianos, with which they accompany the hymns they sing in chorus. They execute very pretty work in pearls and tapestry, which they sell for the benefit of the community. There would be nothing very extraordinary in these details, if any other country were in question; we are afraid they will even be thought too commonplace; but if the reader will only reflect for a moment on the position of this oasis of civilisation on the far verge of Europe, in the midst of the Kalmucks and on the confines of the country of the Khirghis, he will think our enthusiasm very natural and excusable.