Moreover we must not forget the difficulties of the climate. The fine

season barely lasts four months in Russia. The roads are impassable for

pedestrians in spring and autumn, and during the winter the cold is too

severe, the days too short, the snow-storms often too prolonged to allow

of putting regiments on the march, not to say sending them to the

Caucasus across the uncultivated and desert plains that stretch between

the Sea of Azof and the Caspian. The route by sea is equally

impracticable. No use can be made of the Caspian on account of the arid

and unproductive steppes that belt it on the Russian side. Astrakhan,

the only town situated on that part of the coast, is obliged to fetch

its provisions from a distance of 200 leagues. The Black Sea is, indeed,

more favourably circumstanced; but it only affords communication with

the forts on the Circassian side; and the mountaineers always wait to

make their attacks in the season of rough weather, during which

navigation is usually suspended, and it is exceedingly difficult to

reinforce and victual the garrisons. The tediousness and difficulty of

conveying stores is the same by land. With the exception of the forts of

Circassia, supplied directly from the ports of Odessa, Theodosia, and

Kertch, all the garrisons of the Caucasus receive their supplies from

the nearly central provinces of the empire. Thus the materials destined

for the army of the Terek and of Daghestan arrive first in Astrakhan,

after a voyage of more than 200 leagues down the Volga; and then they

are forwarded by sea for the most part to Koumskaia, on the mouth of the

Kouma, where they are taken up by the Turcomans on their little

ox-carts, impressed for the service, and reach their final destination

after fifteen or twenty days' travelling. The mode of proceeding is

still more tedious and expensive for the implements and _materiel_ of

war which arrive from Siberia only once a year, during the spring floods

of the Volga, the Don, and the Dniepr. Such obstacles render it

impossible to augment the forces employed on the Caucasus. France is

infinitely better circumstanced with regard to Algeria. We have nothing

to prevent our keeping up strong military stations on the Mediterranean

shore. We can at any moment command the means of rapidly transporting to

Africa whatever forces may be required by ordinary or unforeseen

circumstances. We will by and by return to the war in Algeria, as

compared with that which the Russians are carrying on in the Caucasus.

We have yet to speak of another cause of weakness to the Russian arms,

and one which is the more serious as it operates exclusively on the

_moral_ of the soldiers. Russia has made the Caucasus a place of

transportation, a regular Botany Bay for all the rogues in the empire,

and for those who by their acts or their political opinions, have

incurred the wrath of the tzar. In reference to this subject, we will

mention a fact which may seem hard to believe, but which I attest as an

eye-witness. In 1840, the fifteenth division, commanded by

Lieutenant-General S----, received orders to march to the Caucasus. On

leaving Taganrok, it was about 1200 short of its complement, and its

deficiency was supplied from the prisons of southern Russia. Robbers,

pickpockets, vagabonds, and soldiers that had been flogged and degraded,

were marched into Taganrok, and incorporated with the regiments which

were about to begin the campaign. These singular recruits were put under

the keeping of the soldiers, and each of them, according to his supposed

degree of rascality, was guarded by two, three, or four men. Surely the

_moral_ of the Russian troops is sufficiently jeopardised by the social

and military institutions of the empire, and it cannot be prudent so

deeply to debase the soldier by associating him with thieves and highway

robbers, and to change the toilsome wars of the Caucasus into a means of

punishment, I may say of destruction, for political offenders and real

criminals. Furthermore, a conflict so prolonged, so disastrous, and that

for so many years has been without any tangible result, must inevitably

have the worst effect on the minds of troops who are not actuated either

by the sense of glory or honour, or by the feeling that they are

defending the right. We have visited the Caucasus at various times, and

never did we meet one officer who was heartily attached to the service

in which he was engaged. Despondency is universal, and many expeditions

against the mountaineers have been marked by a total absence of

discipline. The soldiers have often refused to march, and have suffered

themselves to be massacred by their officers, rather than advance a

foot.

The Caucasus has also become a place of exile for a great number of

Poles. After the revolution of 1831, the Russian government committed

the blunder of sending to the Kouban most of the regiments compromised

in that ill-fated effort. The result was very easy to foresee; desertion

soon began in the ranks of the outlaws, and it is now known beyond a

doubt that the Tcherkesses have Poles among them, who instruct them in

the art of war, endeavour to create an artillery for them with the

pieces captured from the Russians, and labour actively to allay the

dissensions between the various tribes. General Grabe himself assured me

that he had seen in several places fortifications which he recognised as

quite modern. He had also in his campaign of 1840 remarked a more

compact and better concerted resistance on the part of the Circassians,

and often a remarkable degree of combined action in their attacks.

We have not much to say about the military tactics employed by Russia in

this war; in point of science it presents no very striking features, but

on the contrary, cannot but give a very low idea of the merit of the

imperial generals. At first it was expected that the conquest would be

effected by hemming in the mountaineers with military lines, and

gradually encroaching on their territory; but this very costly system

seems to me quite impracticable in a country in which the forts are

always solitary, and cannot protect each other, or cross their fires. I

do not know, however, whether it has been quite given up.

Attempts were made in 1837 to set fire to the forests of the Caucasus by

means of pitch. Three years afterwards it was hoped to effect their

destruction by arming the men of the 15th division with axes; but these

strange expedients only produced useless expenditure. I know a general

of the highest personal courage, who calls in the aid of natural

philosophy to beguile or awe the mountaineers. Whenever he receives a

visit from chiefs whose fidelity he is inclined to suspect, he sets an

electrical machine in play. His visitors feel violent shocks, they know

not how, their beards and hair stand on end, and in the bewilderment

caused by these mysterious visitations, they sometimes let out an

important secret, and betray themselves to their enemy.

An officer of engineers told me an anecdote of this same general which

is worth recording. A mosque which the Russian government had built at

its own expense for a tribe of Little Kabarda was to be inaugurated, and

as usual there was a grand military parade in honour of the occasion.

When the Kabardians had displayed all their address in horsemanship and

shooting, the Russian general proceeded to give a sample of what he

could do, and to strike the assembled tribes with amazement. He called

for his double-barrelled gun, and having himself charged one of the

barrels with ball, he ordered a pigeon to be let loose, which he

instantly brought down, to the astonishment of the beholders. "That is

not all," said he to the chiefs near him; "to shoot a pigeon flying is

no very extraordinary feat; but to cut off his head with the ball is

what I call good shooting." Then turning to his servant, he said

something to him in German. The man went and picked up the bird, and

when he held it out to view, it was seen to be beheaded just as the

general had said. Unbounded was the admiration of the simple

mountaineers; they looked on the general as a supernatural being, and

nothing was talked of for many a day in the aouls, but the beheaded

pigeon and the wonderful Russian marksman.

Now to explain the enigma. The inhabitants of the Caucasus are ignorant

of the use of small shot, and it was with this the general had

accomplished his surprising exploit, having previously loaded one barrel

with it. As for the pigeon's head, it was adroitly whipped off by the

servant, who had received his orders to that effect in German.

But it would be idle to expect that the shrewd good sense of the

mountaineers will long be imposed on by the scientific accomplishments

of the Russian generals; on the contrary, these curious expedients only

give them increased confidence in their own strength. Yermoloff appears

to us to have been the only governor who understood the nature of the

war in the Caucasus, and who conducted affairs with the dignified and

inflexible vigour which were fitted to make an impression on the tribes.

Several commanders-in-chief have succeeded him in turns: Rosen, Golovin,

Grabe, Raiefsky, Anrep, Neughart; but the government has gained nothing

by all these changes.

After the details we have given, comments and arguments would be almost

superfluous: it is easy to conceive how critical is the situation of the

Russians in the Caucasian regions. For twenty years the Emperor Nicholas

has expended all the military genius of his empire, shrinking from no

sacrifice of men or money, and employing generals of the highest

reputation, and yet the might of his sovereign will has broken down

before the difficulties we have pointed out. The tribes of the mountain

are, on the contrary, growing stronger every day. They are making

progress in the art of war; success fires their zeal; the old intestine

discords are gradually disappearing, and the various tribes seem to feel

the necessity of acting in concert, and uniting under one banner. Now

can Russia, under existing circumstances, increase her chances of

success? We think not, and the facts sufficiently corroborate our

opinion. With his system of war and absolute dominion, the tzar has

entangled himself in a hopeless maze, and the Caucasus will long remain

a running sore to the empire, a bottomless pit to swallow up many an

army and much treasure. It has often been proposed to renounce the

present system, but the emperor's vanity will not admit of any pacific

counsels. Besides, even if Russia were now willing to change the nature

of her relations with the independent tribes, she could not do so. Her

overtures would be regarded as tokens of weakness, and the mountaineers

would only become so much the more enterprising.

In Alexander's time, when warlike ideas were less in favour, it was

proposed to establish a commercial intercourse with the Tcherkesses, and

bring them gradually by pacific means to acknowledge the supremacy of

Russia. A Genoese, named Scassi, proposed in 1813 to the Duc de

Richelieu, governor of Odessa, a plan for a commercial settlement on the

coasts of Circassia. His scheme was adopted, and a merchant vessel

touched soon afterwards at Guelendchik and Pchiat, without meeting with

any hindrance on the part of the inhabitants. A trade was soon

established, but the disorderly conduct of the Russians aroused the

jealousy of the Circassians, who soon burned and destroyed the factory

at Pchiat, and the government, whether justly or not, treated Scassi as

a culprit. Since that time there has been no thought of commerce or

pacification, and the tribes of the Caucasus have been regarded only as

rebels to be put down, not as a free people justly jealous of their

privileges. Frequent conferences have taken place between the Russian

generals and the mountain chiefs; but as the one party talked only of

liberty and independence, and the other of nothing but submission and

implicit obedience, hostilities always broke out again with fresh

vehemence. It appears, however, from facts recently communicated to me,

that the emperor is at last disposed to give up his warlike system, and

that his generals have at last received orders to act only on the

defensive.[63] But as the government, whilst adopting these new

measures, still loudly proclaims its rights of sovereignty over the

Caucasus, it follows that this change of policy is quite illusory, and

cannot effect any kind of reconciliation between the Russians and the

mountaineers.

We now come to the point at which we may advert to a question which set

the whole English press in a blaze in 1837; namely, the blockade of the

Circassian coasts, and the pretensions of Russia as to that part of the

Caucasus. It is evident that the tzar's government being at open war

with the mountaineers, may at its pleasure intercept the foreign trade

with the enemy's country. This is an incontestible right recognised by

all nations, and the capture of the _Vixen_ was not worth the noise that

was made about it. As to the proprietary right to the country which

Russia affects to have received from Turkey, through the treaty of

Adrianople, it is totally fallacious, and is unsupported by any

historical document or positive fact. It is fully demonstrated that

Turkey never possessed any right over Circassia; she had merely erected

on the seaboard, with the consent of the inhabitants, the two fortresses

of Anapa and Soudjouk Kaleh, for the protection of the trade between the

two countries. Russia herself, in the beginning, publicly acknowledged

this state of things; and the evidence of her having done so is to be

found in the general depot of the maps of the empire. Chance threw into

my hands a map of the Caucasus, drawn up by the Russian engineers, long

prior to the treaty of Adrianople. The Turkish possessions are

distinctly marked on it, and defined by a red boundary line; they

consist solely, as we have just stated, of the two fortresses on the

coast. This map, the existence of which one day sorely surprised Count

Voronzof (governor-general of New Russia), was sent to England, and

deposited in the Foreign Office during Lord Palmerston's administration.

After all, I hardly know why Russia tries to avail herself of the treaty

of Adrianople as a justification in the eyes of Europe of her schemes of

conquest in the Caucasus. She is doing there only what we are doing in

Algeria, and the English in India, and indeed with still greater reason;

for, as we shall presently see, the possession of the Caucasus is a

question vitally affecting her interests in her trans-Caucasian

provinces, and her ulterior projects respecting the regions dependent on

Persia and Central Asia.

Here are the terms in which this subject is handled in a report printed

at St. Petersburg, and addressed to the emperor after the expedition of

General Emmanuel towards the Elbrouz, in 1829:

"The Tcherkesses bar out Russia from the South, and may at their

pleasure open or close the passage to the nations of Asia. At present

their intestine dissensions, fostered by Russia, hinder them from

uniting under one leader; but it must not be forgotten that according to

traditions religiously preserved among them, the sway of their ancestors

extended as far as to the Black Sea. They believe that a mighty people,

descended from their ancestors, and whose existence is corroborated by

the ruins of Madjar, has once already overrun the fine plains adjacent

to the Danube, and finally settled in Pannonia. Add to this

consideration their superiority in arms. Perfect horsemen, extremely

well armed, inured to war by the continual freebooting they exercise

against their neighbours, courageous, and disdaining the advantages of

our civilisation, the imagination is appalled at the consequences which

their union under one leader might have for Russia, which has no other

bulwark against their ravages than a military line, too extensive to be

very strong."

Reflections like these, printed in St. Petersburg, can leave no doubt as

to the dangers to which the southern provinces are exposed. They are not

to be mistaken, and the government sees them clearly: the aggressive

independence of the Caucasus is perilous to all Russia. Armed,

courageous, and enterprising as they are, the mountaineers need only

some degree of union among their chiefs, to carry the flames of revolt

over a vast portion of the tzar's dominions.

Let any one look fairly and impartially at the immense region comprised

between the Danube and the Caspian, and what will he behold? To the east

40,000 tents of Khirghis, Turcomans, and Kalmucks, robbed of all their

ancient rights, or threatened with the loss of the remnant yet left them

of their independence; in the centre 800,000 Cossacks bound to the most

onerous military service, tormented by the recollection of their

suppressed constitutions, and detesting a government whose efforts tend

to extinguish every trace of their nationality; in the south and west

the Tatars of the Crimea and the Sea of Azof, and the Bessarabians, who

are far from being favourable to Russia; and lastly, beyond the

Caucasus, in Asia, restless populations, ill-broken as yet to the

Russian yoke, and possessions with which there exists no overland

communication except that by way of Mozdok, a dangerous route, which

cannot be traversed without an escort of infantry and artillery, and

which the mountaineers may at any moment intercept.[64] Here, assuredly,

are causes enough of disorganisation and ruin, that want only a man of

genius to set them in action. What wonder is it that with such

contingencies to apprehend, the empire recoils from no sacrifice!

No one, we believe, will deny the schemes of conquest which the

Muscovite government entertains regarding Turkey, Persia, and even

certain regions of India: these schemes are incontestible, and have long

been matter of history. The fact being admitted, what is the position

most favourable for these vast plans of aggrandisement? We have but to

glance at the map to answer immediately: the regions beyond the

Caucasus. There it is that Russia is in contact at once with the Caspian

and the Black Sea, with Persia and Turkey; from thence she can with the

same army dictate laws to the Sultan of Constantinople, and to the Shah

of Teheran; and there her diplomacy finds an ample field to work, and

continual pretexts to justify fresh encroachments. But this formidable

position will never be truly and securely possessed by the tzars until

the tribes of the Caucasus shall have been subjugated.

When the empire acquired all those Asiatic provinces, its situation as

to the Caucasus was far from being so critical as it now is. It is, in

fact, only within the last fourteen or fifteen years that the fierce

struggle has raged between Muscovite domination and the freedom of the

mountain. I therefore much doubt that Russia would now venture to act

towards Persia as she did in the time of Catherine II., and her

successors. Her hostile attitude has been strikingly modified since she

has had in her rear a foe so active and dangerous as the Caucasians.

This is a consideration that may ease the minds of the English as to

their possessions in India, for the road by Herat and Affghanistan will

not be so very soon open to their rivals. There can be no question then

respecting the great importance of the Caucasus to Russia. The

independence of the mountaineers is perilous to her southern

governments, compromises the safety and the future destiny of the

trans-Caucasian provinces, and at the same time fetters and completely

paralyses the ambition of the tzar. It is in this sense the question is

likewise regarded by the court of Teheran, which now builds its whole

hope of safety on the entanglements of Russia in the Caucasus.

And now let us ask what is the work which Russia is doing beyond the

Caucasus for the advantage or detriment of mankind? What, independently

of her ambition and her tendencies, is the influence she is called to

exercise over the actual and future lot of the nations she has subjected

to her sway? It must be admitted that when the imperial armies appeared

for the first time on the confines of Asia, the trans-Caucasian

provinces were abandoned without defence or hope for the future to all

the sanguinary horrors of anarchy. Turkey, Persia, and the mountain

tribes rioted in the plunder of Georgia and the adjacent states. The

advent of the Russians put an end to this sad state of things, and

introduced a condition of peace and quiet unknown for many centuries

before. The imperial government, it is true, brought with it its vices,

its abuses, its vexations, and its hosts of greedy and plundering

functionaries; and then, when the first heyday of delight at the

enjoyment of personal safety was past, the inhabitants had other

hardships to deplore. Nevertheless, the depredations committed by its

functionaries will never prevent the inevitable tendency of the

Muscovite occupation to bring about an intellectual development, which,

soon or late, will act most favourably on the future condition of those

Asiatic regions. Christian populations, so active and enterprising as

are those of the trans-Caucasian provinces, will infallibly begin a

career of social improvement from the moment they find themselves

released from the engrossing care of defending their bodily existence.

Of course it will need many years to mature a movement which derives no

aid from the too superficial and corrupt civilisation of Russia; nor has

any thing worth mentioning been done as yet to promote the industry,

commerce, and agriculture of a country, which only needs some share of

freedom to be productive. Tiflis is far from having fulfilled the

prophecy of Count Gamba, in 1820, and become a second Palmyra or

Alexandria; on the contrary, every measure has been adopted that could

extinguish the very germs of the national wealth. But humanity,

mysterious in its ways, and slow in its progress, seldom keeps pace with

the impatience of nations; and notwithstanding the new evils that in our

day afflict the trans-Caucasian populations, we are convinced that it

was a grand step in advance for them to have been withdrawn from the

anarchical sway of Persia and Turkey, and to have had the personal

safety of their inhabitants secured by the intervention and authority of

Russia.[65]

The conquest of India by the Russians has often been the theme of long

discussions and elaborate hypotheses. England was very uneasy at the

attempts on Khiva, and never meets with a single difficulty in

Affghanistan without ascribing it to Muscovite agents. It is, therefore,

worth while to consider what are the means and facilities at the command

of Russia for the establishment of her dominion in the centre of

Turkistan and on the banks of the Indus and the Ganges.

Three points of departure and three routes present themselves to Russia

for the invasion of Central Asia. On the eastern coast of the Caspian

Sea, Manghishlak, Tuk Karakhan, and the Bay of Balkhan, communicate with

Khiva by caravan routes; Orenburg to the north is in pretty regular

communication with Khiva and Bokhara; and to the south the Caspian

provinces trade with Affghanistan either by way of Meshed, Bokhara, and

Balkh, or by Meshed, Bokhara, and Candahar.

The first line that was taken by a Russian expedition was that from Tuk

Kharakhan to Khiva. Prince Alexander Bekovitch was sent by Peter the

Great to explore certain regions of the Khanat of Khiva, which were

supposed to contain rich gold mines, and landed on the Caspian shore

with about 3,000 men. The result was disastrous; but the details are

too well known to need repetition here. No new demonstration has since

been made in that direction, and it appears to have been with good

reason abandoned entirely. The eastern shores of the Caspian have been

sufficiently explored to make it clear that they cannot be made the

starting point of military operations against Turkistan. From the mouth

of the Emba to the vicinity of Astrabad, the shore is without a river;

and the whole seaboard, as well as the regions between the Caspian and

Khiva, with the exception of a very small tract occupied by the Balkhan

mountains, presents only barren desert plains, without water, occupied

by nomade Turcomans, and affording no resources to an invading army.

"This country," says Mouravief, "exhibits the image of death, or rather

of the desolation left behind by a mighty convulsion of nature. Neither

birds nor quadrupeds are found in it; no verdure or vegetation cheers

the sight, except here and there at long intervals some spots on which

there grow a few sickly stunted shrubs." It is reckoned that on an

average a caravan employs from twenty-eight to thirty-five days of

camel-marching to complete the distance of about two hundred leagues

that divides Tuk Karakhan from Khiva. The journey is not quite so long

from the Bay of Balkhan. This was the route taken by Captain Mouravief

when he was sent by Yermolof to the Khan of Khiva, to propose to him an

alliance with Russia. It would certainly be hard to conceive any

conditions more unfavourable for an expedition towards the interior than

are presented by this part of the coast. On the one side is the Caspian

Sea, the navigation of which is at all times difficult, and in winter

impossible; on the other side more than a month's march through the

desert; and then on the coast itself there is a total impossibility of

cantoning a reserved force. Under these circumstances, all schemes of

conquest in this direction must be chimerical. The Russians no doubt

might, by a clever _coup-de-main_, push forwards some thousands of men

on Khiva, and take the town; but what would they gain thereby? How could

they victual their troops; or how could they establish any safe line of

transport across deserts traversed by flying hordes of warlike

plunderers? Russia could not possibly dispense with a series of

fortified posts to keep up a regular communication with her army of

occupation, and how could she erect and maintain such posts in a naked

and wholly unproductive country? The government has already tried to

establish some small forts on the north-eastern shore of the Caspian,

for the protection of its fisheries, against the Khirghis; but to this

day it has effected nothing thereby, but the useless destruction of many

thousands of its soldiers, who have perished under the most cruel

hardships. Furthermore, the Khanat of Khiva, the state nearest the

imperial frontiers, is but a very small part of Turkistan; nor would its

occupation help in more than a very limited degree towards the conquest

of Bokhara, and _a fortiori_ towards that of Affghanistan.

After the line from the eastern coast of the Caspian, that from Orenburg

to Khiva and Bokhara appears to have attracted the particular attention

of the tzars. But General Perofsky's fruitless expedition against Khiva,

in 1840, has demonstrated that this line is quite as perilous and

difficult as the other. The steppes that lie between Russia and the two

khanats are exactly similar to those situated north and east of the

Caspian, presenting the same nakedness and sterility, an almost total

want of fresh water, and nomade tribes perpetually engaged in rapine.

When State Councillor Negri was sent on an embassy to the Khan of

Bokhara, in 1820, he set out accompanied by 200 Cossacks, 200 infantry,

twenty-five Bashkir horsemen, two pieces of artillery, 400 horses, and

358 camels. The government afforded him every possible facility and

means of transport, and he took with him more than two months' rations

for his men and cattle. Yet though he met with no obstruction on the

part of the hordes whose steppes he traversed, he was not less than

seventy-one days in completing the journey of 1600 kilometres (1000

miles) from Orenburg to Bokhara.

Perofsky, who marched at the head of 6000 infantry, with 10,000 baggage

camels, could not even reach the territory of Khiva. The disasters

suffered by his troops obliged him to retrace his steps without having

advanced further than Ac Boulak, the last outpost erected by the

Russians in 1839, at 180 kilometres from the Emba. The obstacles

encountered by his small army were beyond all description. The cold was

fearful, being 40 degrees below zero of the centigrade thermometer; the

camels could scarcely advance through the snow; and the movements of the

troops were constantly impeded by hurricanes of extraordinary violence.

Such an expedition, undertaken in the depth of winter, solely for the

purpose of having fresh water, may enable one to guess at the

difficulties of a march over the same ground in summer. Spring is a

season unknown in all those immense plains of southern Russia; intense

frost is there succeeded abruptly by tropical heat, and a fortnight is

generally sufficient to dry up the small streams and the stagnant waters

produced by the melting of the snows, and to scorch up the thin coating

of pasturage that for a brief while had covered the steppes. What chance

then has Russia of successfully invading Turkistan from the north, and

reigning supreme over Bokhara, which is separated from Orenburg by 400

leagues of desert? All that has been done, and all that has been

observed up to this day, proves that the notion is preposterous. As for

any compact and amity between Russia and the numerous Kirghis hordes,

such as might favour the march of the imperial armies in Bokhara, no

such thing is to be expected. A great deal has been said of the Emperor

Alexander's journey to Orenburg in 1824, and the efforts then made by

the government to conciliate the Kirghis; but these proceedings have

been greatly exaggerated, and represented as much more important than

they really were. They have not produced any substantial result, and I

know from my own experience how hostile to Russia are all the roving

tribes of the Caspian, and how much they detest whatever menaces their

freedom and independence.

We have now to consider in the last place the two great Persian routes,

which coincide, or run parallel, with each other, as far as Meshed,

where they branch off to Bokhara on the one hand, and on the other to

Cabul by Herat and Candahar. The former of these routes, travelled over

by Alexander Burnes, seems to us totally impracticable. The distance to

Bokhara from Teheran (which we will assume for the starting point,

though it is still the capital of Persia) is not less than 500 leagues;

and it cannot reasonably be supposed possible to effect, and above all

to preserve, a conquest so remote, when in order to reach the heart of

the coveted country, it is necessary to traverse the vast deserts north

of Meshed, occupied by nomade hordes, which are the more formidable,

inasmuch as no kind of military tactics can be brought to bear on them.

Moreover, it must not be forgotten that the occupation of Bokhara by no

means infers that of Affghanistan. The distance from the former to Cabul

is more than 250 leagues. The regions between the two towns are indeed

less sterile and easier to traverse; but, on the other hand, an army

marching towards India would have to penetrate the dangerous passes of

the high mountain chain between Turkistan and Affghanistan, which are

defended by the most indomitable tribes of Central Asia. Here would be

repeated those struggles in which Russia has been vainly exhausting her

strength for so many years in the Caucasus.[66] In truth, in presence of

such obstacles, of ground, climate, population, and distance, all

discussion becomes superfluous, and the question must appear decided in

the negative by every impartial man who possesses any precise notions as

to the regions of Western Asia.

There remains the route by Meshed, Herat, and Candahar. This is

incontestably the one which presents fewest difficulties; yet we doubt

that it can ever serve the ambitious views attributed to Russia. Along

the line from Teheran to Herat lie important centres of agricultural

populations; villages are found on it surrounded by a fertile and

productive soil. But these advantages, besides being very limited, are

largely counterbalanced by uncultivated plains destitute of water which

must be traversed in passing from one inhabited spot to another, and by

the obstacles of all kinds which would be subsequently encountered in a

march through the deserts of Affghanistan, the warlike tribes of which

are much more formidable even than the Turcomans who infest the route

from Teheran to Herat. Besides, as it is nearly 600 leagues from the

capital of Persia to the centre of Affghanistan, it is exceedingly

unlikely that Russia will ever succeed in subjugating a country in

which its armies could only arrive by a military road maintained and

defended through so huge a space.

No doubt the way would be considerably smoothed for Russia along both

the Candahar and the Bokhara lines, if by gradually extending the circle

of her conquests she had brought the inhabitants of Khorasan and

Turkistan to obey her. But there are obstacles to the achievement of

this preliminary task which the empire is not by any means competent to

surmount, nor will it be so for a very long time to come. To say nothing

of climate, soil, and distance, all the tribes in question are animated

with a hatred and aversion for Russia, which will long neutralise the

projects of the tzars. We often hear of the great influence exercised by

the cabinet of St. Petersburg at Khiva, Bokhara, and Cabul; but we

believe it to be greatly exaggerated, and the history of the various

Muscovite embassies proves most palpably that it is so. What did Negri

and Mouravief effect at Khiva and Bokhara? They were both received with

the most insulting distrust, prevented from holding any communication

with the natives, and watched with a strictness which is only employed

against an enemy. Mouravief even went near to pay for his embassy with

his head. Was Russia more fortunate at Cabul? We think not. The

remoteness of her dominions may cause her agents to be received with

some degree of favour, especially at a time when the sovereign of Cabul

finds himself exposed to the hostility of England. Yet it is not the

less true that any serious attempt of Russia on Turkistan and the

eastern regions of Persia would suddenly arouse the animosity of the

Affghans and all their neighbours. We readily admit that the imperial

government has it in its power, by its advice and its intrigues, to

exercise a certain influence at Cabul, to the detriment of England; but

that this influence can ever serve the extension of the Muscovite sway

is what we utterly deny, knowing as we do the intense and unmitigable

aversion to Russia which is felt by all the natives of Asia.

The conquests of Alexander the Great and of Genghis Khan have often been

appealed to as proving how easy it would be for the tzars to follow in

the footsteps of those great captains. Such language bespeaks on the

part of the writers who have put it forth the most profound ignorance of

the actual condition of the places and the inhabitants. When Alexander

marched towards Bactriana to subjugate the last possessions of Persia,

he left behind him rich and fertile countries, important Greek colonies,

and nations entirely subdued; moreover, he marched at the head of an

army consisting of natives of the south, possessing all the

qualifications necessary for warfare in the latitudes of Central Asia.

Furthermore, at that period the provinces of the Oxus contained numerous

rich and flourishing towns, with inhabitants living in luxury, and

little capable of resistance. Nevertheless, in spite of all the

facilities and all the supplies which the country then offered to an

invading army, its physical conformation, broken and bounded by deserts

both on the north and on the south, seems to have aided the efforts of

its defenders to a remarkable degree. It was in fact in this remote part

of Persia that the conqueror of Darius had to fight many a battle for

the establishment of his transient sway. The same circumstances marked

his march to India. Invasions have become still more difficult since his

day, for all those regions once occupied by wealthy and agricultural

nations have been ravaged and turned into deserts; scarcely do there

exist a few traces of the ancient towns, and the populations subdued by

Alexander have been succeeded by hordes of Khirgis, Turcomans, and

Affghans, who would be for the Russians what the Scythians were for the

King of Macedon and the other conquerors who tried to enslave their

country.

The Mongol invasions can no more than Alexander's be regarded as a

precedent for Russia. Inured to the fatigues of emigration, carrying all

their ordinary habits into the camp, changing their country without

changing their ways of life, unburdened by any _materiel_ of war, and

never retarded by the slow and painful march of a body of infantry, the

hordes of Genghis Khan and Tamerlane were singularly fitted for

occupying and retaining possession of the immense plains of Turkistan,

and realising the conquest of India.

Russia, on the contrary, is totally devoid of those grand means of sway

which Alexander and the Mongols enjoyed. The Russians have nothing in

common with the soldiers of antiquity and of the middle ages, and are

placed in very different circumstances: they are natives of the coldest

regions of the globe; they have no possible opportunity of previous

acclimation, and they are separated from the frontiers of India by more

than 500 leagues of almost desert country, in which the employment of

infantry, wherein alone consists the real superiority of Europeans over

Orientals, is impracticable.

And now, if we look to India, and to the people from whom the tzars

propose to wrest its empire, we see Great Britain occupying all the

towns on the coast and in the interior, mistress of the great rivers of

the country, controlling millions of inhabitants by her irresistible

political ascendency, having the richest and most productive countries

of the world for the basis of her military operations, commanding

acclimated European troops, and a powerful native army habituated to

follow her banners; in a word, we see Great Britain placed in the most

admirable position for defending her conquests, and repulsing any

aggression of the northern nations, foreign to the soil of Hindustan and

Central Asia. The fears of the English and the schemes of the Russians

appear to us, therefore, alike chimerical. Undoubtedly, as we have

already said, the intrigues of the government of St. Petersburg, may,

like those of any other influential power, create difficulties and

annoyances in Affghanistan and elsewhere; but the English rule will

never be really in danger, until the time shall come when national

ambition and a desire of resistance shall have been kindled in the

Hindu populations themselves.

Let us turn back to the Caucasus, of which we have not spoken in this

discussion, though the independence of its tribes is in our opinion one

of the most important obstacles to the aggrandisement of Russia in Asia;

and let us imagine what are the immediate palpable interests which are

at stake in the Trans-Caucasian regions for certain powers of Europe.

Every one knows that Persia is become of late years the point of contact

between England and Russia, the scene of competition between the two

nations for the disposal of their merchandise. Our readers are aware,

that since the suppression of the transit trade and free commerce of the

Caucasian provinces, the English have established a vast depot for their

manufactures at Trebisond, whence they have not only acquired a monopoly

in the supply of Armenia, Eastern Turkey, and the greater part of

Persia, but also supply the Russian provinces themselves by contraband.

Hence it may be conceived with what wakeful jealousy England must watch

the proceedings of Russia beyond the Caucasus, and what an interest she

has in impeding any conquest that would close against her the great

commercial route she has pursued by way of Erzeroum and Tauris. She

cannot, therefore, be indifferent to the independence of the Caucasus,

which, while serving as a bulwark to the frontiers of Turkey and Persia,

affords also a most effectual protection to her mercantile operations in

Trebisond. It may perhaps be said that this is a merely English

question, very interesting to the manufacturers of London and

Manchester, but of little concern to France. But where our neighbours

find means to dispose annually of more than 2,000,000_l._ sterling worth

of manufactures, there also we think our own political and commercial

interests are concerned. Have not we, too, an influence to keep up in

Asia? Do not we, too, possess manufactories and a numerous working

population, and is it not carrying indifference and apathy too far, to

let other powers engross all those regions of Asia where we could find

such ready and profitable markets? Whose fault is it if the French flag

is so seldom seen on the Black Sea, if Trebisond is become an English

town, and if the commerce of Asia is monopolised by our rivals? There is

much to blame in the indifference of our country, and in the incapacity

of some of our consular agents. But if our commercial policy is often

vicious, if our trade is misdirected and mismanaged, and we are often

outstripped by our neighbours across the channel, is that any reason why

we should, in blind selfishness, express our approval of conquests which

would only end in the destruction of all European commerce in the Black

Sea? Certainly if Russia, modifying her prohibitive system, and frankly

abandoning all further designs against Turkey and the coasts of the

Black Sea, would seek to extend her dominions solely on the side of

Persia, we think it would be good policy not to thwart such a movement;

for in case of a struggle between that power and England, France would

unquestionably be called on to act as a mediator, which would give her

an admirable opportunity for dictating conditions favourable to her

policy and her influence in the East.

The detailed considerations into which we have entered respecting the

situation of the Russians, the war in the Caucasus, and the political

importance of that region, clearly indicate the differences between the

conflict in the Caucasus and that which we have been carrying on for

fourteen years in Algeria. The aggressive policy of Russia once

admitted, and her possessions north, south, and east of the Caucasus not

allowing of contestation, the submission of the mountaineers becomes for

her a vital question, with which is connected, not only the fate of her

Asiatic provinces, but also that of all the governments that lie between

the Danube and the Caspian. In Algeria, on the contrary, we are not

urged by any imperious motive to extend our conquests. Our political

influence in Europe, and our real strength could at present gain nothing

thereby; and it is probably reserved to another generation to derive a

grand and useful result from our African conquests.

Of late years some public writers, taking the defeats of Russia for

their text, have founded on them an argument against the establishment

of French supremacy in Algeria. This reasoning appears to us unsound,

and it is even at variance with historical facts. In Asia, Russia has

had to deal with two very distinct regions; the trans-Caucasian

provinces, and the Caucasus proper. The former, easy of access, and

comprising Georgia, Imeritia, Mingrelia, and the other provinces taken

from Persia and Turkey, were occupied by disorganised nations, at

variance within themselves, and differing from each other in race,

manners, and religion; accordingly the Muscovite sway was established

over them without difficulty, and without any conflict worth mentioning

with the inhabitants. The case has not been the same in that immense

mountain barrier erected between Europe and Asia, the inaccessible

retreats of which extend from Anapa to the shores of the Caspian. The

dwellers in those regions present no analogy with the inhabitants south

of the chain. There has never been a moment's pause in the obstinate

strife between them and Russia; and all the sacrifices, and all the

efforts of the tzars against them, have for sixty years been wholly in

vain.

Our situation in Algeria is evidently very different. We have there had

for our portion neither the bootless strife of the Caucasus, though

having most warlike tribes for adversaries, nor the easy conquests of

the trans-Caucasian provinces. It is but fourteen years since our troops

landed in Africa, and we possess, not only all the towns of the

seaboard, but likewise all those of the interior; numerous bodies of

natives share actively in our operations; we are masters of all the

lines of communication; our forces command the country to a great

distance from the coasts: and in the opinion of all well-informed

officers the pacification of the regency of Algiers would, perhaps, have

by this time been accomplished, if the government had set its face

against the passion for bulletins, and the too martial humour of most of

our generals, and tried to pacify the tribes, not by arms and violence,

but numerously ramified commercial relations which should call into play

the natural cupidity of the Arabs.

Nor can the topographical difficulties of Algeria be compared with those

that defend the country of the Lesghis, the Tchetchenzes, and the

Tcherkesses. Intersected by vast plateaux, numerous rich and fertile

valleys, and parallel mountain ranges, almost everywhere passable and

flanked by long lines of coast of which we possess the principal points,

and which present at Algiers, Oran, Philippeville, and Bona, wide

openings affording admission into the interior, our possessions afford

free course to our armies, and nowhere exhibit that strange and singular

conformation in which has consisted from time immemorial the safety of

the Caucasian tribes.

There are other circumstances likewise that facilitate our progress in

Africa, and enable us to exercise a direct influence over all the tribes

south of the Tel of Algiers. As has been very ably demonstrated by M.

Carrette, captain of engineers, it is enough to occupy the extreme

limits of the cultivated lands, and the markets in which the inhabitants

of the oases exchange their produce for the corn and other indispensable

commodities of the north, to oblige all the populations of the Sahara,

fixed or nomade, immediately to acknowledge the sovereignty of France.

It is only in case our government, impelled by ill-directed vanity,

should decide on the absolute conquest of the mountains of the Kabyles,

that we might encounter in the country, and in the political

constitution of those mountaineers, some of the obstacles that

characterise the Caucasian regions. And again, what comparison can there

be between Kabylia, the two portions of which east and west of Algiers

comprise but 1000 or 1200 square leagues of surface, and the great chain

of the Caucasus which extends with a mean breadth of fifty or sixty

leagues, over a length of more than 250 leagues?

We say nothing of the superiority of our armies and our military system.

It is enough to recall what we have said as to the deplorable situation

of the troops in the Caucasus, to be aware how much France has the

advantage over Russia in this respect.

The diseases and the frightful mortality incident to our armies have

been also dwelt on; but here again all the statistical returns are in

favour of France. Out of a force of 75,000 men, our mean annual loss is

7000 or 8000. In 1840, indeed, the most fatal year, it appears to have

risen to 12,000; but in that same year, and likewise in the following

year, Russia lost more than 17,000 on the coasts of Circassia alone.

Thus physically, as well as politically, there is a total difference

between the war in the Caucasus and that in Algeria; and instead of

suffering ourselves to be disheartened by fourteen years of unproductive

occupation, and despairing before hand, because the actual results do

not keep pace with our unreasonable impatience, we ought to take example

by that indefatigable perseverance with which Russia, in spite of her

disasters and the fruitlessness of her efforts, has gone on in the

pursuit of her purpose for upwards of half a century.

FOOTNOTES:

[61] M. Hommaire says he has copied the bulletin exactly as it appeared

in French in the Russian papers.

[62] "Unfortunately the author of this heroic act is unknown. It is

believed from some hearsay accounts to have been performed by a private

soldier of the Tenguinisky regiment of infantry. The results of the

inquiry instituted on the subject will be published hereafter." (_Note

of the Russian journalist._)

[63] This was written in 1844.

[64] There is indeed a road by way of Daghestan along the Caspian; but

it is still more impracticable than that by Mozdok, and besides it is

too long to be of use to Russia in her dealings with the Asiatic

governments. As for the maritime routes by the Caspian and the Black

Sea, their utility is greatly limited by the intense frosts which block

up the ports of Odessa, Kherson, Taganrok, Kertch, and Astrakhan during

four months of the year.

[65] We do not mean these remarks to apply in any respect to the

Mussulman tribes, of whom we will speak hereafter. The Christian and the

Mahometan population balance each other in the trans-Caucasian

provinces; they both number about 400,000 males.

[66] The mountains that divide Turkistan from Affghanistan are covered

with perpetual snow; some of their peaks are 6000 yards high. Hadjigak,

which was crossed by A. Burnes, is 4000 yards above the sea.

CHAPTER XXXII.

A STORM IN THE CAUCASUS--NIGHT JOURNEY; DANGERS AND

DIFFICULTIES--STAVROPOL--HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE

GOVERNMENT OF THE CAUCASUS AND THE BLACK SEA COSSACKS.

At four o'clock on a dull morning we left Piatigorsk of charming memory,

to strike once more into the mountains, where by the by, in less than an

hour, we were met by one of the grandest and most violent storms I

remember ever having witnessed. We had to endure its force for two long

hours; and our situation was the more critical, since our _yemshik_

(coachman), though quite familiar with the road, seemed almost at his

wits' end. It was only by the gleam of the lightning he was able to make

such brief observations of the ground as enabled him to guide his

horses. This was certainly a very precarious resource, but there is a

special providence for travellers. Lost in the midst of the mountains,

and our sole hope of safety resting on the coolness and skill of a

peasant, we escaped, we scarce knew how, from a seemingly inevitable

catastrophe. A furious burst of rain, the last expiring effort of the

storm, at last cleared the sky, which became coloured towards the west

with purple bands, that contrasted gloriously with the darkness of the

rest of the firmament. A magnificent rainbow, with one end springing

from the highest peak of the Caucasus, whilst the other was lost in the

mists of evening, gleamed before us for a few moments, and gradually

dissolved away.

At half-past seven we reached the station, wet, weary, stupified, and

very much surprised to find ourselves safe and sound after having passed

through so many dangers. Nevertheless, this recent alert by no means

made us forego our original plan of travelling all night in order to

reach Stavropol the next day. Nothing is so soon forgotten in travelling

as danger. One is no sooner out of one scrape than he is ready to get

into another, and a worse one, without giving a thought to his past

alarms. You must get over the ground: that is your ruling thought. As

for taking precautions, calculating the good or the bad chances of the

journey, or troubling oneself about dangers to come, by reason of those

already incurred, all this is quite out of the question. We were quite

bent on travelling all night, but the idea was totally discountenanced

by the postmaster and the Cossacks whom we fell in with at the station.

They told us there was a fair at Stavropol, and that the road was always

somewhat dangerous on such occasions, particularly after sunset. A night

or two before, several persons returning from the fair had been

surprised and plundered by the Circassians, in spite of the many

military posts along the road. Several other ugly stories were told us,

in a tone that at last shook our resolution, and we were beginning very

reluctantly to give up our project, when an unexpected incident made us

recur to it again.

A Polish officer, who until then had kept aloof in a dark corner, seeing

the annoyance we felt at this unforeseen delay, joined in the

conversation, and offered to set out at once with us, if his company

would be sufficient to restore our confidence. He, too, was going to

Stavropol, and it was all the same to him whether he travelled that

night or next day. The proposal, which was made with the most obliging

frankness, agreed too well with our wishes to allow of any further

hesitation, and we at once accepted it. The Pole had with him a servant

very well armed, and the two together were such a reinforcement to our

little troop as almost insured our safety. With great exultation we set

about our preparations for departure, but the more experienced

postmaster gave with reluctance the order to put the horses to, and

could not help crossing himself repeatedly when he saw us get into the

britchka, whilst the two yemshiks failed not to imitate his example, and

to lift their fur caps several times in token of devotion. The Russians

always find means to mingle crossings with all the other acts of their

hands, by which process they set their consciences entirely at rest. I

am satisfied they cross themselves even when thieving, partly from

habit, and partly in the hope of escaping without detection.

Once out of the yard, the pleasure of travelling on a mild and dim night

through an unknown country, that presented itself to our eyes under

vague and mysterious forms, so engrossed our minds that we thought no

more of Circassians, or broken ground, or danger of any kind. The Pole's

carriage preceded ours, and his Cossack began to sing in a low tone one

of those sweet melancholy airs which are peculiar to the Malorussians.

The plaintive melody, mingled with the tinkling of the horses' bells,

and the motion of the carriage lulled me into a dreamy repose, half way

between sleeping and waking. I know not how long this state of

hallucination lasted; but I was startled out of it by a pistol-shot

fired close to me, and before I could collect my senses a second was

fired, but at some distance. The carriage had stopped, the night was

very dark, and my companions were quite silent. I was a good deal

frightened, until my husband explained to me that the Polish officer had

lost his way, and that our dragoman had fired his pistol as a signal to

him, and that the second shot was an answer to the first. Being now

satisfied that we had not half a dozen Circassians about us, I recovered

courage enough to laugh at my first dismay. Anthony left us to look for

our travelling companion, after arranging with us that a third shot

should be the token of his having found him. We passed half an hour in a

state of painful anxiety, teasing ourselves with a thousand alarming

conjectures, and dreading lest the report of fire-arms should bring down

on us some of the Circassians who might be prowling in the

neighbourhood. What would I not have then given to be far away from that

road which we had been told was so terrible, and of which my imagination

still more magnified the dangers!

At last the preconcerted signal was heard, and Anthony soon afterwards

returned, but alone, and told us that we must go on without the Pole,

whose pereclatnoi had stuck fast in a bad spot, and could not be

extricated until daylight. The night was so dark, and the ground so

dangerous, that notwithstanding his wish to ease our minds, the officer

could not venture to come to us. This news was not calculated to abate

our anxiety; we might in a moment be in the same predicament as the

officer, supposing nothing worse should happen. The road, as the yemshik

told us, wound round a rock, and what proved that it was dangerous was

that it was flanked in places with slight posts and rails. Such a

precaution is so rare in Russia, that it may be taken as a certain

indication of no common danger. We debated awhile whether it would not

be more prudent to remain where we were until daybreak; but the coachman

was so terrified at the thought of passing a night in the mountains,

that he gave us no peace till we moved forward. The prospect of tumbling

down a precipice was decidedly less terrible to him than the thought of

having to do with the Circassians. Alighting and leading his horses, he

followed Anthony, who carefully sounded one side of the road. As we

advanced on our perilous descent, the sound of a torrent roaring at the

bottom smote our ears, as if to increase our perplexity; but in an

hour's time we found ourselves safe and sound on the plain, and soon

afterwards we reached the station, where our arrival excited great

astonishment. The postmaster was enraged against his colleague, and

could not conceive how he had come to give us horses at night, in

defiance of the strict rules of the police. For his part he assured us

that his duty forbade him to do any such thing, and that it was useless

to ask him. I need not say, however, that this declaration itself was

useless, for we had had quite enough of the road for that night. I never

enjoyed the most comfortable chamber in a French or German hotel so much

as I did the miserable lodging in which I then lay down on a bench

covered only with a carpet.

We did not quit the station next day until the arrival of our travelling

companion, whom we had reluctantly left in so unpleasant a predicament.

He was severely bruised by his fall, but laughed heartily at his mishap.

We set out together, very glad to get away from those fine mountains

that were then gleaming in the rays of the morning. The events of the

preceding night, though after all not very dramatic, had left so

painful an impression on our mind, that the very sight of the mountains

still caused us a secret dread. Instead, therefore, of quitting with

regret so picturesque a region, the more homely and commonplace the

country became, the more we admired it. We were just in the humour to be

delighted with the steppes of the Black Sea; so much does the

appreciation of scenery depend on the state of the mind.

During all this day's journey the road was covered with carriages,

horsemen, and pedestrians, repairing to the fair of Stavropol, and

affording samples of all the motley population of the vicinity,

Circassians, Cossacks, Turcomans, Georgians, and Tatars; some in

brilliant costume, caracoling on their high-bred Kalmuck or Persian

horses, others stowed away with their families in carts covered with

hides; others driving before them immense flocks of sheep or swine, that

encompassed the carriages and horsemen, and occasioned some very comical

incidents. Among all those whom business or pleasure was calling to the

fair, we particularly noticed a very handsome young Circassian mounted

on a richly caparisoned horse, and riding constantly beside a pavosk of

more elegance than the rest, and the curtains of which were let down.

This was enough to stimulate our curiosity, for in these romantic

regions the slightest incident affords matter for endless conjectures. I

would have given something to be allowed to lift one of the curtains of

the mysterious pavosk, or at the least to keep it in view until our

arrival in Stavropol, but our postilion did not partake in our

curiosity, and putting his horses to a gallop, he soon made us lose

sight of the group. The last low range of the Caucasus, which gradually

diminishes in height to Stavropol, formed an irregular line on our left,

in which we caught many hasty glimpses of charming scenery. The

vegetation still retained a great degree of freshness, in consequence of

the mildness of the temperature, which at this season would have

appeared to us extraordinary even in more southern countries.

It was late in the evening when we reached Stavropol, so that we could

not avail ourselves of our letters of introduction, and were obliged to

hunt for a lodging in the hotels of the principal street. But they were

all full, and with great difficulty we succeeded, with the help of our

Polish friend, in getting admission to the Great Saint Nicholas, a

shabby inn, the common room of which was already tenanted by a dozen

travellers. Nevertheless, we secured a little corner, and there we

contrived to form a tolerable sort of divan with our cushions and

pelisses. I had now an opportunity of remarking how little notice

travellers take of each other in this country. In this room, filled with

people whose habits were so different from ours, we were as much at our

ease as if the apartment belonged to us alone; and neither our language,

behaviour, nor dress, appeared to attract any undue attention.

Stavropol, the capital of the whole Caucasus, is a very agreeable town,

and appeared to us so much the more so from the animation lent it by the

fair. But I perceive that in the course of these travels I have not

named one town without immediately joining the word _fair_ to it. It

must be owned that chance was most bountiful to us in throwing in our

way so many occasions for conceiving a high idea of the commerce of

Russia. At Stavropol, however, the fair occupied our attention much less

than General Grabe, who was just a week returned from an expedition

against the Circassians. His staff filled the whole town with the noise

of their martial deeds. Every officer had his story of some glorious

exploit, whereof of course he was himself the hero. Though so recently

returned, General Grabe was already in busy preparation for another

campaign, on which he built the greatest hopes. The good gentleman even

pressed my husband very strongly to accompany him, as if it were a mere

party of pleasure. He offered him his tent, instruments, and every thing

necessary to render the excursion beneficial to science. Under any other

circumstances my husband would no doubt have yielded to the temptation

of visiting the tribes of the Caucasus in the very heart of their

mountains, under the protection of a whole army, but it would have been

madness to undertake such a journey after those we had but just

completed.

* * * * *

Before we finally take leave of the Caucasian regions, it will not be

amiss to give some historical account of that part of the empire, and of

the Cossacks of the Black Sea, to whom is committed the perilous task of

protecting the frontiers against the incessant attacks of the formidable

mountain tribes.

It was by virtue of an ukase promulgated by Catherine II. in 1783, that

Russia took full and entire possession of all the countries north of the

Kouban and the Terek, which of yore formed the almost exclusive

dominions of numerous hordes of black Nogais, some of them independent,

others acknowledging the authority of the Tatar khans of the Crimea. But

previously to this period the tzars were already in military occupation

of the country, for it was in 1771 that they completed the armed line of

the Caucasus, begun by Peter the Great, at the mouth of the Terek.

At first the new conquest was put under the direction of the military

governor of Astrakhan; but the state of the southern frontiers soon

became so serious in consequence of the war with the mountaineers, that

it was found advisable to form all the provinces conquered by Catherine

II. north of the Caucasus, into a distinct province. The government of

the Caucasus thus constituted, is bounded on the north by the Kouma and

the Manitch, which divide it from the territory of Astrakhan and from

that of the Don Cossacks; on the west by the country of the Black Sea

Cossacks; on the east by the Caspian, and on the south by the armed line

of the Kouban and the Terek.

At the foot of the Caucasus, as everywhere else, the Russian occupation

occasioned great migrations. All the black Nogais of the right bank of

the Kouban, who had fought against Russia, withdrew beyond the river

among the tribes of the mountain. The Kabardians forsook the environs of

Georgief, and sought refuge deeper in the Caucasian chain, and it was

only the black Nogais of the barren plains between the Terek and the

Kouma that remained in their old abodes. Cut off from the independent

tribes since the erection of the fortresses of Kisliar and Mosdok, they

took no part in the events of the war, and so they remained in peaceable

possession of their territory. As for the Kalmucks, who had been very

bold and active auxiliaries of Russia, they preserved intact all the

pasturages they now possess in the government of the Caucasus.

The Muscovite sway once established, and the frontiers put in a state of

defence, the next step was to occupy the country along the northern

verge of the Caucasus in some other way than by light troops. It was

therefore determined to form numerous colonies of Muscovites and

Cossacks, a project which the absolute power of the tzars enabled them

quickly to fulfil. The present villages in the centre of the province

along the banks of the Kouban, the Terek, the Kouma, the Egorlik and the

Kalaous, were erected, and the military colonies of the Black Sea

Cossacks were founded; several large proprietors seconded the efforts of

the government, and prompted either by the spirit of speculation, or by

the superabundance of their slaves, formed large establishments on the

lands that had been gratuitously conferred upon them. Attempts, too,

were made to settle some of the German families of Saratof on the Kouma.

But the results were far from realising the hopes of the government.

Compressed between the narrow limits in the districts of Stavropol and

Georgief, bounded on the north and east by the uncultivated lands of the

Turcomans and Kalmucks, on the south by the armed lines, continually

attacked and overrun by the mountaineers, the colonies soon ceased to

wear a thriving appearance; many sacked and burnt villages never rose

again from their ashes, the German colony on the Kouma was destroyed,

and now there remains no hope that the number of agricultural

inhabitants will ever become sufficient to lend any real aid to the

projects of the tzars. We have been in a great many villages on the

Kouma, and the confluents of the Manitch, and found them scarcely able

to supply their own wants. Their contributions to the commissariat are

almost nothing, and the armies are always obliged to procure their

stores from the central provinces of Russia.

Some settlements, indeed, such as Vladimirofka and Bourgon Madjar on the

Kouma, directed by able men, have attained a high degree of prosperity;

but these are exceptions, and they owe their wealth to the cultivation

of the mulberry and the pine, and their numerous corn-mills, which

constitute for them a virtual monopoly. The cultivation of corn has had

no share in the welfare of these colonies, the nature of the climate

having always been unfavourable to it: the people of Vladimirofka and

the neighbouring villages think themselves fortunate if they can raise

corn enough for their own consumption.

Thus, while we cordially approve of the principle that suggested the

foundation of these advanced posts of the Slavic population, and that

strives to enlarge their growth, we are nevertheless convinced that in

the present state of things, with the war in the Caucasus becoming every

day more formidable, these colonies can never be conducive to the

progress of Russia; unless, indeed, that should happen, which we think

most unlikely, namely, that the government should so extend its

conquests as to become undisputed possessor of the fertile regions

beyond the Kouban, where the colonist could command sufficient natural

resources.

The Cossacks better fulfilled the purpose for which they were settled on

the frontier. Active, enterprising, and accustomed to partisan warfare,

they were admirably adapted for resisting the incursions of the

mountaineers. If they have been less efficient of late years, the blame

must be laid on the inordinate demands of the government, the extreme

contempt with which they are treated by the Russian generals, and, above

all, the extinction of the privileges which had been wisely conferred on

them in the beginning, and which alone could guarantee to the empire the

maintenance of their vigorous military organisation.

The Black Sea Cossacks, as every one is aware, are descended from the

Zaporogues of the Dniepr, whose famous military corporation appears to

have been established towards the end of the fifteenth century.

Continually engaged against the Tatars of the Crimea, the Ukraine

Cossacks founded at this period a sort of colony near the mouths of the

Dniepr, consisting exclusively of unmarried men, whose special avocation

it was to guard the frontiers. Their numbers rapidly increased,

deserters from all nations being attracted to them by the hope of booty,

and their setcha, or head-quarters, on an island of the Dniepr, became

famous throughout the land for the military services and the valour of

its inhabitants. In 1540, such was the importance of these colonies to

Poland, that King Sigismund granted a large tract of land above the

cataracts to the Zaporogues, in order to strengthen the barrier erected

by them between his dominions and the Tatars.

The new settlements on the Dniepr for a long time followed the fortune

of the Cossacks of Little Russia. But as their strength augmented

continually, they at last detached themselves from the mother country,

and became an independent military state. The supremacy of the tzars was

imposed on Little Russia in 1664, and from that time the Zaporogues,

deprived of their allies, and left entirely to their own resources,

owned allegiance, according to circumstances, to the Turks or the

Tatars, to Poland or Russia, until the rebellion of Mazeppa, in which

they took part, led to the total destruction of their power. Some years

afterwards we find them again rallied under the protection of the khans

of the Crimea; but Russia soon assumed so formidable an attitude in

those parts, that they were at last constrained, in 1737, to acknowledge

themselves vassals of the empire.

But the political decline of the unfortunate Zaporogues did not stop

there. During the war that preceded the treaty of Koutchouk Kainardji, a

strong desire for independence was excited among them by the arbitrary

acts of Russia. Many of their detachments fought even in the ranks of

the Turks. Then it was that Catherine determined on completely rooting

out the military colony of the Dniepr. The Zaporogues were expelled by

force from their territory, which was given to other cultivators; and

some of them emigrated beyond the Danube, while others were transported

to the neighbourhood of Bielgorod. Ten years afterwards, when war broke

out again with Turkey, a great number of the latter volunteered into the

Russian armies. After the peace of Jassy, Prince Potemkin, who had

formed them into regiments, was so pleased with their valour and

fidelity, that he induced Catherine to settle them beyond the strait of

the Kertch, and intrust them with the defence of the Circassian border.

They were also granted, along with the peninsula of Taman, the whole

territory comprised between the Kouban and the Sea of Azof, and

extending eastward to the confluent of the Laba, and northward to the

river Eia. The Zaporogues then took the appellation of Cossacks of the

Black Sea, and their organisation was assimilated to that of their

brethren of the Don. They had an attaman, nominated for life by the

emperor, out of a list of candidates chosen by themselves; and the civil

and military affairs of the community were directed, under this supreme

chief, by two permanent functionaries, and four assessors changed every

three years. Other privileges were likewise accorded to them, consisting

chiefly in exemption from all taxes, the free use of the salt-pools, the

right of terminating all litigations without having recourse to the St.

Petersburg courts of appeal, and in the pledge given to them by the

government, that their regiments should never be required to serve

beyond their own territory.

Under the influence of Catherine's liberal institutions, the military

colony completely fulfilled the hopes of the government, and made rapid

progress. The rich pastures of the Kouban were covered with immense

multitudes of cattle, and agriculture, too, attained some degree of

importance. The population also augmented considerably. The lands of the

Kouban, as formerly those of the Don, became an asylum for a great

number of fugitives, and the neighbouring provinces had often to

complain of the escape of their slaves. But for the last twenty years

the Black Sea Cossacks have been suffering from the effects of the new

measures for equalisation and uniformity, and, like the Cossacks of the

Don, they are now on the eve of being subjected to the ordinary laws and

institutions of the provinces of the empire. The first encroachment on

their privileges, was their employment on active service during the

late wars with Turkey and Persia. They were obliged to furnish four

regiments, which lost an enormous number of men, and nearly all their

horses. This first step taken, the government advanced rapidly in its

course of reform, and in a few years the Cossacks were deprived of their

right of electing their own functionaries, who were thenceforth

nominated by the emperor alone. These administrative changes, conjoined

with the military duties, which have increased to a most onerous extent

in the course of the war against the mountaineers, have had a very

depressing effect on the spirits of the population; and at this day the

Cossacks of the Kouban are far different men from those fiery

Zaporogues, whose vigorous aid was so eagerly sought by Russia, Poland,

and Turkey. The military life is become a loathsome burden to them, and

they now only fight by constraint or in self-defence. The Russians,

accordingly, accuse them of cowardice; but the government, by destroying

their privileges, and the commanders-in-chief by the scorn with which

they treat them and the continual activity they impose on them, do all

that in them lies to dishearten and debase them. It is they who are

always put foremost in every expedition; every commanding officer

sacrifices them without scruple, and makes targets of them for the balls

of the mountaineers. Is it reasonable, then, to expect alacrity and high

courage on the part of men for whom military service is the breaking of

every family tie, the destruction of all domestic prosperity, and who

have not been left, in exchange for so many sacrifices, even the shadow

of national independence?

At the time of my last journey to the Caucasus in 1840, the Cossacks of

the Black Sea numbered about 112,000 souls, of whom 68,000 were males,

residing in sixty-four villages, and on 36,000,000 hectares of land held

in common property, like the country of the Don in former times. The

colonial army counted at that period according to the registers, eleven

regiments of cavalry, ten of infantry, of 800 men each, and two

batteries of artillery, one of them mounted, making altogether a total

of 20,000 men, nearly the third of the male population. No doubt, the

army can never in any case reach the official amount of force, its ranks

being continually thinned by disease and war; and although young men are

forced to enter the service at the age of seventeen, and are often kept

in it thirty or forty years, still it would be quite impossible to bring

more than 12,000 or 14,000 into the field at once, without endangering

the total destruction of the population. In a pecuniary point of view,

no men could well be more unfortunate than the Cossacks of the Kouban,

whether in campaign against the mountaineers, or merely cantoned as

reserves in their villages, they receive absolutely nothing for their

services. The regulations, indeed, declare that the regiments actually

called out shall receive pay at the rate of six rubles annually for each

private, thirty-five rubles for every non-commissioned officer, and 250

for every subaltern officer; but infallible means have been found for

preventing these moderate allowances from ever reaching those to whom

they are promised. The posting establishment throughout the Cossack

country costs the government just as little as the maintenance of the

troops, since horses, harness, hay, and corn are all furnished gratis by

the colony. The postilions even receive no pay whatever; they are only

allowed a little flour and groats, and for every thing else they and

their families must shift for themselves during their whole term of

service. As for the progon (the posting-money paid by travellers), it

belongs to the Cossack exchequer, and composes, with the proceeds of the

farm of brandy, salt, and the fisheries, the sole revenues of the

country.

When I was at Ekaterinodar, the capital of the country, during the

season of field-work, and in a time of quiet, they reckoned fourteen

regiments on active service. Accordingly, as might have been expected,

agriculture had been long neglected, and the country was in a miserable

state. Nothing was to be seen in the villages but infirm old men,

invalids, widows, and orphans; and the existence of the colony depended

on the toil of the women alone. The distress then became so great as to

excite the uneasiness of the government, and commissioners were sent to

examine into the state of things; but unfortunately the mission, like

every thing of the kind, did no good. The truth remained completely

concealed from the emperor. The blame was cast entirely on the Cossacks

themselves, and nothing was done to remedy the sufferings of the

population.

We do not know what measures have been adopted since our departure by

the imperial government with respect to the present and future situation

of the military colony of the Kouban. For our own parts, having had

opportunities of appreciating the good qualities of the Tchornomorskie

Cossacks, and all the capabilities which a wise administration would

find in them, we cannot but heartily wish that the government may, with

a better understanding of its own true interests, at least adopt towards

them a line of conduct more in accordance with their wants and their

laborious services.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

RAPID JOURNEY FROM STAVROPOL--RUSSIAN WEDDING--PERILOUS

PASSAGE OF THE DON; ALL SORTS OF DISASTERS BY NIGHT--

TAGANROK; COMMENCEMENT OF THE COLD SEASON--THE GERMAN

COLONIES REVISITED.

It would have been impossible to travel more rapidly than we did from

Stavropol to the Don. The steppe is as smooth as a mirror, and the

posting better conducted than in any other part. We no sooner reached a

station, than horses, which had been brought out the moment we were

descried, were put to, and galloped away with us without a moment's

check to the next station. A temperature of at least 20 deg. Reaumer, the

beauty of the sky, and something light and joyous in the atmosphere,

kept us in the highest spirits. In no country have I ever seen such

multitudes of gossamer threads. The carriage, the horses, and our

clothes were covered with those glistening prognostics of fair weather.

As we advanced towards the abodes of civilisation, our thoughts were all

about the pleasure of arriving at Taganrok, to find our letters, our

friends, our European habits again, and the comforts of which for many

months we had enjoyed but casual snatches. We rejoiced, therefore, in

the speed with which we got over the ground, and scarcely cared to

bestow a glance on the stanitzas that fled away behind us. In passing

through a Russian village, however, we were constrained to bestow some

attention on outward objects, our carriage being stopped by a wedding

party that filled the whole street. We counted a dozen pavosks filled

with young people of both sexes. The girls, with their heads bedizened

with ribbons, screamed almost like savages, and rivalled the young men

in impudence and coarseness. It was a disgusting spectacle. The bride

differed from the rest only by the greater profusion of ribbons and

flowers that formed her head-gear; her face was as red, her gestures as

indelicate, and her voice as loud and shrill as those of her companions.

It may seem scarcely credible, but we were but two-and-twenty hours

travelling 316 versts, between Stavropol and the Don. We ate and slept

in the carriage, and only alighted at the river side, where all sorts of

tribulations awaited us. I cannot at this moment think of that memorable

night without wondering at the pertinacity with which ill-luck clings to

us when once it has fastened upon us. At ten at night, when we were some

little way from the Don, we were told that the bridge was in a very bad

state, and that we should probably be obliged to wait till the next day,

before we could cross it. Such a delay was not what we had bargained

for, especially as we had reckoned on enjoying that very night a good

supper and a good bed under a friendly roof in Rostof. Then the weather,

which had been so mild, had suddenly turned chill, and this was another

motive to haste; so we went on without heeding what was told us; but

when we came to the river, the tokens that the bridge was out of order,

were but too manifest. Several carts stood there unyoked, and peasants

lay beside them, patiently waiting the daylight. These men reiterated

the bad news we had already heard; but then it was only eleven o'clock;

if we waited we should have to pass nearly seven hours in the britchka,

exposed to the cold night air, whereas once on the other side, we should

reach Rostof in two hours. This consideration was too potent to allow of

our receding from our purpose. At the same time we neglected no

precaution that prudence required. The coachman and the Cossack were

sent forward with a lantern to make a reconnaissance, and returning in

half an hour, they reported that the passage was not quite

impracticable, only it would be necessary to be very cautious, for some

parts of the bridge were so weak, that any imprudence might be fatal to

us.

Without calculating the risks we were about to run, we at once alighted,

and followed the carriage, which the coachman drove slowly, whilst the

Cossack went ahead with the lantern, pointing out the places he ought to

avoid. I do not think that in the whole course of my travels we were

ever in so alarming a situation. The danger was imminent and

indubitable. The cracking of the woodwork, the darkness, the noise of

the water dashing through the decayed floor, that bent under our feet,

and the cries of alarm uttered every moment by the coachman and the

Cossack, were enough to fill us with dismay: yet the thought of death

did not occur to me, or rather my mind was too confused to have any

distinct thought at all. Frequently the wheels sank between the broken

planks, and those were moments of racking anxiety; but at last by dint

of perseverance we reached the opposite bank in safety. The passage had

lasted more than an hour; it was time for it to end, for I could hold

out no longer; the water on the bridge was over our ancles. It may be

imagined with what satisfaction we took our places again in the

carriage. The dangers we had just incurred, and which we were then

better able fully to understand, almost made us doubt our actual safety.

For a long while we seemed to hear the noise of the waves breaking

against the bridge; but this feeling was soon dispelled by others; for

our nocturnal adventures were by no means at an end.

At some versts from the Don our unlucky star put us into the hands of a

drunken coachman, who after losing his way, I know not how often, and

bumping us over ditches and ploughed fields, actually brought us back in

sight of the dreadful bridge which we still could not think of without

shuddering. We tried in our distress to persuade ourselves we were

mistaken, but the case was too plain; there was the Don in front of us,

and there stood Axai, the village we had passed through after getting

into the britchka. Fancy our rage after floundering about for two hours

to find ourselves just at the point from which we started. The only

thing we could think of was to pass the night in a peasant's cabin; but

our abominable coachman, whom the sight of the river had suddenly

sobered, and who had reason to expect a sound drubbing, threw himself on

his knees and so earnestly implored us to try the road to Rostof again,

that we yielded to his entreaties. The difficulty was how to get back

into the road, and we had many a start before we found it. The carriage

was so violently shaken in crossing a ditch, that the coachman and

Anthony were pitched from their seats, and the latter fell upon the

pole, and became entangled in such a way that he was not easily

extricated. His shouts for help, and his grimaces when my husband and

the Cossack had set him on his legs were so desperate, that one would

have thought half his bones were broken, though he had only a few

trifling bruises. As for the yemshik, he picked himself up very coolly,

and climbed into his seat again as if nothing extraordinary had

happened. To see the quiet way in which he resumed the reins, one would

have supposed he had just risen from a bed of roses; such is the usual

apathy of the Russian peasants.

It was four in the morning when we came in sight of Rostof, which is but

twelve versts distant from the Don. Thus we spent a great part of the

night in wandering about that town, like condemned ghosts, without

deriving much advantage from our rash passage of the river. It was well

worth while to run the risk of drowning, when our calculations and

efforts could be baffled by so vulgar a cause as the drunkenness of a

coachman! But the sight of Rostof, where good cheer and hospitality

awaited us, consoled us for all our mishaps. Yet even here, when we

almost touched the goal, our patience was put to further trial; for

alighting at the post station two versts from the town, our rascally

coachman positively refused to drive us a foot beyond it. This was too

much for the Cossack's endurance, so drawing out a long knout from his

belt, he paid the fellow on the spot the whole reckoning he had intended

to settle with him at the journey's end. The yemshik's shouts brought

all the people of the station about us, and the wife of the postmaster

came and scolded him at such a rate, that at last he was forced to drive

us to the town; but it was more than an hour before he set us down at

Mr. Yeams's house. His drunkenness had now passed into the sleepy stage,

and he could only be kept to his work by constant thumping.

The house where we intended to lodge contained a corn store belonging to

Mr. Yeams, English consul at Taganrok, who had obligingly invited us to

use it when we quitted that town, and had sent orders to that effect to

his clerk, M. Grenier: and so pleased were we with our quarters on our

first visit to Rostof, that now the thought of going anywhere else never

entered our heads. To have done so would have seemed an affront to Mr.

Yeams's cordial hospitality. While we were unpacking the carriage,

Anthony went and knocked at the door, and the coachman, unyoking his

horses, in a trice went off as fast as he could, without even waiting to

ask for drink money. Some minutes elapsed; Hommaire, losing patience,

knocks again, when at last out comes Anthony with a very long face, and

tells us that M. Grenier, clerk and Provencal into the bargain, refused

of his own authority to receive us, pretending that he had not a room

for us. Unable to comprehend such conduct, and believing that there was

some mistake in the case, my husband went himself to the man, who

putting his nose out from under the blankets, told him impudently, we

must go and look for a lodging elsewhere.

All comment on such behaviour would be superfluous. To shut the door at

night against one's own country people, and one of them a woman, rather

than incur a little personal trouble, was a proceeding that could enter

the head of none but a Provencal. The Kalmucks might have given a lesson

in politeness to this boor, who rolled himself up snugly to sleep,

whilst we spent the night, benumbed and shivering, under his windows in

his court-yard. It may be conceived in what a state I passed the night;

drenched with wet, worn down with mental and bodily fatigue, hungry,

sleepy, and chilled by the sharp cold that at that season precedes

sunrise, I was really unconscious of what was passing around me. As soon

as it was light the Cossack procured horses, and took us to the best

hotel in Rostof, where a warm room, an excellent bowl of soup, and a

large divan, soon set us to rights again. On our arrival at Taganrok all

the Yeams family were indignant at the behaviour of our Provencal, and,

had we been disposed to pay him in his own coin we might have done so.

They would have sent him his discharge forthwith, had we not interceded

for him; the French consul wrote him a threatening letter, and with this

our vengeance remained satisfied.

We learned at Taganrok that the strangest rumours had gone abroad

respecting us. Some said that the Circassians had made us prisoners,

others that we had perished of hunger and thirst in the Caspian steppes.

In short, every one had had his own melodramatic version of our supposed

fate. I cannot describe all the kind interest that was shown on our safe

return from so hazardous a journey. In spite of our wish to arrive as

soon as possible in Odessa, we could not refrain from bestowing a week

on friends who received us with such warm sympathy.

The winds from the Ural swept away in one night all that October had

spared. The weather was still sunny when we arrived on the shores of the

Sea of Azof; but on the next day the sky assumed that sombre chilly hue

that always precedes the metels or snow-storms. The whole face of nature

seemed prepared for the reception of winter, that eternal sovereign of

northern lands. The sea-beach covered with a thin coating of ice, the

harsh winds, the ground hardened by the frost, and the increasing

lividness of the atmosphere, all betokened its coming, and made us

keenly apprehensive of what we should have to suffer on our way to

Odessa, where we were to take up our winter quarters, and from whence we

were still 900 versts distant. With the rapidity of the Russian post the

journey might be accomplished in ten days, if the weather were not

unfavourable; but after the threatening symptoms I have mentioned, we

might expect soon to have a fall of snow, and perhaps to be kept

prisoners by it in some village.

Unfortunately for us it was the most dangerous season for travelling in

Russia. The first snows, which are not firm enough to bear a sledge, are

much feared by travellers, and almost every year cause many accidents.

At this period, too, the winds are very violent, and produce those

frightful snow-storms which we have already described. It was a very

cheerless prospect for persons so way-worn and weary as we were, to have

incessantly to fight against the elements and other obstacles. I

remember that in this last journey our need of rest was so urgent, that

the poorest peasant seated by his stove was an object of envy to us.

We once more passed through all the German colonies I had so much

admired a few months before. But the pleasing verdure of May had

disappeared beneath the icy winds of the north, and all was dreary and

dull of hue. Even the houses, no longer glistening in the sunshine, had

a sombre appearance in harmony with the withered leaves of the orchards.

A metel that broke out one night forced us to pass two days in a German

village, in the house of a worthy old Prussian couple. The wife had lost

the use of one side, and could not leave her chair, but her husband

supplied her place in all the domestic concerns with a skill that

surprised us. As in all the German houses, the principal room was

adorned with a handsome porcelain stove, and a large tester bed which

our hosts insisted on giving up to us. From morning till night the

husband, aided by a stout servant girl, exerted all his culinary powers

for our benefit. The table was laid out all day until dinner hour with

coffee, pastry, bottles of wine, ham, and other appetising commodities.

There is nothing I think more delightful in travelling than to watch the

proceedings of a somewhat rustic cuisine. In such cases all the marvels

of Careme's art fade before two or three simple dishes prepared under

your own eyes. The ear is pleasingly titillated by the tune of the

frying-pan, the smell of good things stimulates desire and quickens the

imagination, and the very preliminaries are so agreeable, that the

traveller would not exchange them for the most magnificent banquet in

the world.

The quantity of snow that had fallen during those two days retarded our

speed. A man rode on before the carriage and carefully sounded the

ground, for the metel had filled up the holes and ditches, and

obliterated all landmarks. Nothing can be more frightful than those

snowy wastes recently swept and tossed by furious winds. All trace of

man's existence and his works, have disappeared beneath those white

billows heaped upon each other like those of the ocean in a storm. How

well we could appreciate, in those long days we spent in plodding

through the snow, the horrible sufferings of our poor soldiers,

perishing by thousands in the fatal retreat of 1812! The thought of

their misery smote upon our hearts, and forbade us to complain, warmly

clad as we were, drawn by stout horses, and having all we required done

for us by others.

As we approached Kherson post-sledges began to show themselves; several

of them shot by us with travellers wrapped up to the eyes in their fur

cloaks. These sledges are very low, and hold at most two persons. It

very often happens that the body part upsets without the driver's

perceiving it; the accident is not at all dangerous; but it must be

exceedingly annoying to the traveller, as he rolls in the snow, to see

his sledge borne away from him at full speed, leaving him no help for it

but to follow on foot. If the driver does not take the precaution to

look back from time to time, the traveller may chance to run all the

way to the next station, and it may be imagined in what a plight he

arrives there. When the accident happens by night the case is still more

serious. Many Russians have told us that they had thus lost their way,

and only after a day or two's search had found the station where their

sledge had arrived empty. Nothing, indeed, is more common than to lose

one's way in the steppes, nor is it at all necessary to that end that

one should fall out of his sledge. We ourselves were once in danger of

roaming about all night in the neighbourhood of Kherson in search of our

road, which we could not find. A very dense fog surprised us at sunset,

scarcely five versts from the town. For a long time we went on at

random, not knowing whether we were going north or south, and Heaven

knows where we should have found ourselves at last, if we had not caught

the sound of horses' bells. The travellers put us on the right way, and

told us it was ten o'clock, and we had twelve versts between us and

Kherson.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

DEPARTURE FOR THE CRIMEA--BALACLAVA--VISIT TO THE MONASTERY

OF ST. GEORGE--SEVASTOPOL--THE IMPERIAL FLEET.

After a winter spent in the pleasures of repose, we left Odessa at the

end of April to visit the Crimea, on board the _Julia_, a handsome brig,

owned and commanded by M. Taitbout de Marigny. Our departure was

extremely brilliant. The two cannons of the _Julia_, and those of the

_Little Mary_, that was to sail in company with us, announced to the

whole town that we were about to weigh anchor. Our passage could not

fail to be agreeable under such a captain as ours. M. Taitbout de

Marigny, consul of the Netherlands, joins to the varied acquirements of

the man of science all the accomplishments of the artist and man of the

world.

The voyage was very short, but full of chances and incidents; we had

sea-sickness, squalls, clear moonlight nights, and a little of all the

pains and pleasures of the sea. On the second morning, the sun shining

brightly, we began to discern the coast of that land, surnamed

inhospitable by the ancients, by reason of the horrible custom of its

inhabitants to massacre every stranger whom chance or foul weather led

thither. The woes of Orestes alone would suffice to render the Tauris

celebrated. Who is there that has not been moved by that terrible and

pathetic drama, of which the brother and sister were the hero and

heroine on this desert shore! As soon as I could distinguish the line of

rocks that vaguely marked the horizon, I began to look for Cape

Parthenike, on which tradition places the temple of the goddess of whom

Iphigenia was the priestess, and where she was near immolating her

brother. With the captain's aid I at last descried on a point of rock at

a great distance from us a solitary chapel, which I was informed was

dedicated to the Virgin. What a contrast between the gentle worship of

Mary and that of the sanguinary Taura, who exacted for offerings not the

simple prayers and _ex voto_ of the mariner, but human victims! All this

part of the coast is sterile and desert: a wall of rock extended before

us, and seemed to shut us out from the peninsula so often conquered and

ravaged by warlike and commercial nations. Richly endowed by nature, the

Tauris, Chersonese, or Crimea, has always been coveted by the people of

Europe and Asia. Pastoral nations have contended for possession of its

mountains; commercial nations for its ports and its renowned Bosphorus;

warlike peoples have pitched their tents amid its magnificent valleys;

all have coveted a footing on that soil, to which Greek civilisation has

attached such brilliant memories.

During a part of the day the wind was contrary, and obliged us to make

short tacks in view of the rocky wall; but at four o'clock a change of

wind allowed the brig to approach the coast. The sea was like a

magnificent basin reflecting in its transparent waters the great

calcareous masses that overhung it. It was a fine spectacle; but our

captain's serious expression of countenance, and the intentness with

which he watched the sails, and directed the manoeuvres, plainly

showed that our situation was one of difficulty, if not of danger. A

boat was manned and sent off to explore the coast, and as its white sail

gleamed at a distance in the sun, it looked like a seabird in search of

its nest in the hollow of some rock. The _Little Mary_ imitated all our

evolutions, skimming over the waves like a sea swallow. She shortened

her trip at every tack, and kept closer and closer to us; and our

captain's face grew more and more grave, until all at once to our great

surprise the rock opened before us like a scene in a theatre, and

afforded us a passage which two vessels could not have entered abreast.

Having got fairly through the channel, M. Taitbout was himself again.

This entrance he told us is very dangerous in stormy weather, and often

impracticable even when the wind is but moderately fresh. The scene,

however, on which it opens is extremely beautiful. The port is

surrounded with mountains, the highest of which still bear traces of the

old Genoese dominion, and in front of the entrance is the pretty Greek

town of Balaclava, with its balconied houses and trees rising in

terraces one above the other. A ruined fortress overlooks the town: from

that elevated point the Genoese, once masters of this whole coast,

scanned the sea like birds of prey, and woe to the foreign vessels

tempest driven within their range! Balaclava, with its Greek population,

its girdle of rocks, and its mild climate, resembles those little towns

of the Archipelago that are seen specking the horizon as one sails

towards Constantinople.

While we remained on board waiting for the completion of the

custom-house formalities, we were entertained with the most picturesque

and animated scene imaginable. It was Sunday, and the whole population

was scattered over the shore and the adjoining heights. Groups of

sailors, Arnaouts, and girls as gracefully formed as those of the

Grecian isles, were ascending the steep path to the fortress, or were

dancing to the shrill music of a balalaika. All the balconies were

filled with spectators, who were busy, no doubt, discussing the

apparition of a brig in their port; for the trade of Balaclava, so

flourishing under the Genoese, is now fallen to such a degree that the

arrival of a single vessel is an event for the whole town.

Balaclava, the Cembalo of the Genoese, is now the humble capital of a

little Greek colony founded in the reign of Catherine II., and now

numbering several villages with 600 families. During her wars with the

Porte, the empress thought of appealing to the national sentiments of

the Greeks, and their hatred of the Turks. The result answered her

expectations, and Russia soon had a large naval force that displayed the

most signal bravery in all its encounters with the enemy. When the

campaign against Turkey was ended, the Greek auxiliaries took part in

the military operations in the Crimea; and after the conquest of the

peninsula, they were employed in suppressing the revolts of the Tatars,

and striking terror into them by the sanguinary cruelty of their

expeditions. It was at that period the Mussulmans of the Crimea gave

them the name of Arnaouts, which they have retained ever since.

The peninsula having been finally subjugated, the Greeks were formed

into a regimental colony, with the town and territory of Balaclava for

their residence. They now number 600 fighting men, who are only employed

in guarding the coasts. The colonist is only liable to be called out for

active service during four months in the year; the other eight he has at

his own disposal for the cultivation of his lands. Each soldier has

twenty-eight rubles yearly pay, and finds his own equipment.

The day after our arrival at Balaclava we made a boating excursion to

examine the geology of the coast, and landed in a beautiful little cove

lined with flowering trees and shrubs. On our return the boatmen made

themselves coronals of hawthorn and blossoming apple sprays, and

decorated the boat with garlands of the same, and in this festive style

we made our entry into Balaclava. In our poetic enthusiasm as we looked

on the lovely sky, the placid sea, and the Greek mariners, who thus

retained on a foreign shore, and after the lapse of so many centuries,

the cheerful customs of their ancestors, we could not help comparing

ourselves to one of the numerous deputations that used every year to

enter the Pyraeus, with their vessels' prows festooned with flowers, to

take part in the brilliant festivals of Athens.

We bade adieu that day to our excellent friend M. Taitbout de Marigny,

who continued his cruise to Ialta, where we were again to meet him. We

set out for the convent of St. George, our minds filled with classical

reminiscences, which fortified us to endure the horrible bumping of our

pereclatnoi. This vehicle is a sort of low four-wheeled cart, so narrow

as barely to accommodate two persons, who have nothing to sit on but

boxes and packages laid on a great heap of hay. It is no easy matter to

keep one's balance on such a seat, especially when the frail equipage is

galloped along from post to post at the full speed of three stout

horses. Yet this is the manner in which most Russians travel, and often

for a week together, day and night.

The road from Balaclava to the monastery presents no striking features;

it runs over a vast plateau, as barren as the steppes. A little before

sunset we were quite close to the convent, but saw nothing indicative of

its existence, and were, therefore, not a little surprised when the

driver jumped down and told us to alight. We thought he was making game

of us, when he led the way into an arched passage, but when we reached

the further end a cry of admiration escaped our lips, as we beheld the

monastery with its cells backed against the rock, its green-domed

church, its terraces and blooming gardens, suspended several hundred

feet above the sea. Long did we remain wrapt in contemplation of the

magic effect produced by man's labour on a scene that looked in its

savage and contorted aspect as if it had been destined only to be the

domain of solitude.

The Russian and Greek monasteries are far from displaying the monumental

appearance of the western convents. They consist only of a group of

small houses of one story, built without symmetry, and with nothing

about them denoting the austere habits of a religious community. Those

poetic souls who find such food for meditation in the long galleries of

the cloisters, could not easily be reconciled to such a disregard for

form. The monks received us not like Christians, but like downright

pagans. The bishop, for whom we had letters, happening to be absent, we

fell into the hands of two or three surly-looking friars, whose dirty

dress and red faces indicated habits any thing but monastic. They

confined us in a disgustingly filthy hole, where a few crazy chairs, two

or three rough planks on tressels, and a nasty candle stuck in a bottle,

were all the accommodation we obtained from their munificence. Our

dragoman could not even get coals to boil the kettle without paying for

it double what it was worth. When we remonstrated with the monks their

invariable answer was, that they were not bound to provide us with any

thing but the bare furniture of the table. Such was their notion of the

duties of hospitality.

With our bones aching from the pereclatnoi we were obliged to content

ourselves with a few cups of tea by way of supper, and to lie down on

the execrable planks they had the assurance to call a bed. Fortunately,

the bishop returned next day, and we got a cleaner room, mattresses,

pillows, plenty to eat, and more respectful treatment on the part of

the monks; but all this could not reconcile us to men who had such a

curious way of practising the precepts of the gospel. The few days we

spent among them were enough to enable us to judge of the degree of

ignorance and moral degradation in which they live. Religion which, in

default of instruction, ought at least to mould their souls to the

Christian virtues, and to love of their neighbours, has no influence

over them. They do not understand it, and their gross instincts find few

impediments in the statutes of their order. Sloth, drunkenness, and

fanaticism, stand them instead of faith, love, and charity.

The great steepness of this part of the coast renders the descent to the

sea extremely difficult. We tried it, however, and with a good deal of

hard work we scrambled down to the beach, which is here only a few yards

wide. Magnificent volcanic rocks form in this place a natural colonnade,

the base of which is constantly washed by the sea, whilst every craggy

point is tenanted by marine birds, the only living creatures to be seen.

On our return to the convent we found it full of beggars who had come

for the annual festival that was to be held on the day but one

following. Cake and fruit-sellers, gipsies and Tatars, had set up their

booths and tents on the plateau; every thing betokened that the

solemnity would be very brilliant, but we had not the curiosity to wait

for it. We set out that evening for Stavropol, glad to get away from a

convent in which hospitality is not bestowed freely, but sold.

On leaving the monastery we proceeded first of all in the direction of

Cape Khersonese, the most western point of this classic land, where

flourished, for more than twelve centuries, the celebrated colony of

Kherson, founded by the Heracleans 600 years B. C. At present

the only remains of all its greatness are a few heaps of shapeless

stones; and strange to relate, the people who put the last hand to the

destruction of whatever had escaped the barbarian invasions and the

Mussulman sway, was the same whose conversion to Christianity in the

person of the Grand Duke Vladimir, was celebrated by Kherson in 988.

When the Russians entered the Crimea some considerable architectural

remains were still standing, among which were the principal gate of the

town and its two towers, and a large portion of the walls; besides which

there were shafts and capitals of columns, numerous inscriptions and

three churches of the Lower Empire, half buried under the soil. But

Muscovite vandalism quickly swept away all these remains. A quarantine

establishment for the new port of Sevastopol was constructed on the site

of the ancient Heraclean town, and all the existing vestiges of its

monuments were rapidly demolished and carried away stone by stone; and

but for the direct interference of the Emperor Alexander, who caused a

few inscriptions to be deposited in the museum of Nicolaief, there would

be nothing remaining in our day to attest the existence of one of the

most opulent cities of the northern coasts of the Black Sea.

At a short distance from Cape Khersonese begins that succession of ports

which render this point of the Crimea so important to Russia; one of

them is Sevastopol, whence the imperial fleet commands the whole of the

Black Sea, and incessantly threatens the existence of the sultan's

empire. Between Cape Khersonese and the Sevastopol roads which comprise

three important ports, there are six distinct bays running inland

parallel to each other. First come the Double Bay (_Dvoinaia_) and the

Bay of the Cossack (_Cozatchaia_), between which the Heracleans founded

their first establishment, no trace of which now exists. Then comes the

Round Bay (_Kruglaia_), that of the Butts (_Strelezkaia_), and that of

the Sands (_Pestchannaia_). These five are all abandoned, and are only

used by vessels driven by stress of weather to seek shelter in them. It

was in the space between the Bay of the Sands and that more to the west

where the quarantine is established, that the celebrated Kherson once

stood.

A little beyond the quarantine cove, the traveller discovers Sevastopol,

situated on the slope of a hill between Artillery and South bays, the

first two ports on the right hand as you enter the main roads. The

position of the town thus built in an amphitheatre, renders its whole

plan discernible at one view, and gives it a very grand appearance from

a distance. Its barracks and stores, the extensive buildings of the

admiralty, the numerous churches, and vast ship-building docks and

yards, attest the importation of this town, the creation of which dates

only from the arrival of the Russians in the Crimea. The interior,

though not quite corresponding to the brilliant panorama it presents

from a distance, is yet worthy of the great naval station. The streets

are large, the houses handsome, and the population, in consequence of an

imperial ukase which excludes the Jews from its territory, is much less

repulsive than that of Odessa, Kherson, Iekaterinoslav, &c.

The port of Sevastopol is unquestionably one of the most remarkable in

Europe. It owes all its excellence to nature, which has here, without

the aid of art, provided a magnificent roadstead with ramifications,

forming so many basins admirably adapted for the requirements of a naval

station. The whole of this noble harbour may be seen at once from the

upper part of the town. The great roadstead first attracts attention. It

lies east and west, stretching seven kilometres (four miles and

three-quarters) inland, with a mean breadth of 1000 yards, and serves as

a station for all the active part of the fleet. It forms the medium of

communication between Sevastopol and the interior of the peninsula. The

northern shore presents only a line of cliffs of no interest, but on the

southern shore the eye is detained by the fine basins formed there by

nature. To the east, at the very foot of the hill on which the town

stands, is South Bay, in length upwards of 3000 metres, and completely

sheltered by high limestone cliffs. It is here the vessels are rigged

and unrigged; and here, too, lies a long range of pontoons and vessels

past service, some of which are converted into magazines, and others

into lodgings for some thousand convicts who are employed in the works

of the arsenal. Among these numerous veterans of a naval force that is

almost always idle, the traveller beholds with astonishment the colossal

ship, the _Paris_, formerly mounting 120 guns, and which was, down to

1829, the finest vessel in the imperial fleet.

Beyond South Bay, and communicating with it, is the little creek in

which the government is constructing the most considerable works of the

port, and has been engaged for many years in forming an immense dock

with five distinct basins, capable of accommodating three ships of the

line and two frigates, while simultaneously undergoing repairs. The

original plan for this great work was devised by M. Raucourt, a French

engineer, who estimated the total cost at about 6,000,000 rubles. The

magnitude of this sum alarmed the government, but at the instance of

Count Voronzof, they accepted the proposals of an English engineer, who

asked only 2,500,000, and promised to complete the whole within five

years. The work was begun on the 17th of June, 1832; but when we visited

Sevastopol, some years after the first stone had been laid, the job was

not half finished, and the expenses already exceeded 9,000,000 rubles.

The execution of the basins seems, however, to be very far from

corresponding to the enormous expenses they have already occasioned, and

it is strange, indeed, that a weak and friable limestone should have

been employed in hydraulic constructions of such importance. The angles

of the walls, it is true, are of granite or porphyry, but this odd

association of heterogeneous materials conveys, in itself, the severest

condemnation of the mode of construction which has been adopted.

Highly favoured as is the port of Sevastopol with regard to the form and

the security of its bays, it yet labours under very serious

inconveniences. The waters swarm with certain worms that attack the

ships' bottoms, and often make them unserviceable in two or three years.

To avoid this incurable evil, the government determined to fill the

basins with fresh water, by changing the course of the little river,

Tchernoi Retchka, which falls into the head of the main gulf. Three

aqueducts and two tunnels, built like the rest of the works in chalk,

and forming part of the artificial channel, were nearly completed in

1841; but about that period the engineers endured a very sad

discomfiture, it being then demonstrated that the worms they wanted to

get rid of were produced by nothing else than the muddy waters which the

Tchernoi Retchka pours into the harbour.[67]

Artillery Bay, which bounds the town on the west, is used only by

trading vessels. This and Careening Bay, the most eastern of all, are

not inferior in natural advantages to the two others we have been

speaking of; but we have nothing more particular to mention respecting

them.

After discussing the harbours and the works belonging to them, we are

naturally led to glance at the war-fleet, and the famous fortifications

of which the Russians are so proud, and which they regard as a marvel of

modern art. In 1831, when the July revolution was threatening to upset

the whole _status quo_ of Europe, a London journal stated in an article

on the Black Sea and Southern Russia, that nothing could be easier than

for a few well-appointed vessels to set fire to the imperial fleet in

the port of Sevastopol. The article alarmed the emperor's council to the

highest degree, and orders were immediately issued for the construction

of immense defensive works.

Four new forts were constructed, making a total of eleven batteries.

Forts Constantine and Alexander were erected for the defence of the

great harbour, the one on the north, the other on the west side of

Artillery Bay; and the Admiralty and the Paul batteries were to play on

vessels attempting to enter South Bay, or Ships' Bay. These four forts,

consisting each of three tiers of batteries, and each mounting from 250

to 300 pieces of artillery, constitute the chief defences of the place,

and appear, at first sight, truly formidable. But here again, the

reality does not correspond with the outer appearance, and we are of

opinion that all these costly batteries are more fitted to astonish the

vulgar in time of peace, than to awe the enemy in war. In the first

place their position at some height above the level of the sea, and

their three stories appear to us radically bad, and practical men will

agree with us that a hostile squadron might make very light of the three

tiers of guns which, when pointed horizontally, could, at most, only hit

the rigging of the ships. The internal arrangements struck us as equally

at variance with all the rules of military architecture: each story

consists of a suite of rooms opening one upon the other, and

communicating by a small door, with an outer gallery that runs the whole

length of the building. All these rooms, in which the guns are worked,

are so narrow, and the ventilation is so ill-contrived, that we are

warranted by our own observation in asserting that a few discharges

would make it extremely difficult for the artillerymen to do their duty.

But a still more serious defect than those we have named, and one which

endangers the whole existence of the works, consists in the general

system adopted for their construction.

Here the improvidence of the government has been quite as great as with

regard to the dock basins: for the imperial engineers have thought

proper to employ small pieces of coarse limestone in the masonry of

three-storied batteries, mounting from 250 to 300 guns. The works, too,

have been constructed with so little care, and the dimensions of the

walls and arches are so insufficient, that it is easy to see at a

glance, that all these batteries must inevitably be shaken to pieces

whenever their numerous artillery shall be brought into play. The trials

that have been made in Fort Constantine, have already demonstrated the

correctness of this opinion, wide rents having been there occasioned in

the walls by a few discharges.

Finally, all the forts labour under the disadvantage of being utterly

defenceless on the land side. Thinking only of attacks by sea, the

government has quite overlooked the great facility with which an enemy

may land on any part of the coast of the Khersonese. So, besides that

the batteries are totally destitute of artillery and ditches on the land

side, the town itself is open on all points, and is not defended by a

single redoubt. We know not what works have been planned or executed

since 1841; but at the period of our visit a force of some thousand men,

aided by a maritime demonstration, would have had no sort of difficulty

in forcing their way into the interior of the place, and setting fire to

the fleet and the arsenals.

We have now to speak of the offensive strength of the Port of

Sevastopol, that famous fleet always in readiness to sail against

Constantinople. The effective of the Black Sea fleet, in 1841, was as

follows:--

Ships of the line 13, 2 of 120 guns, the rest of 84

Frigates 6 mounting 60 guns

Corvettes 6 " 20

Brigs 10 " 10 to 20

Schooners 5

Cutters 10

Steamers 5

Tenders 25

The largest tenders are of 750 tons' burden, the smallest thirty. The

crews, making together fourteen battalions, ought to be 14,000 strong.

But we know that in Russia official figures are always much higher than

the reality. We think we cannot be far wrong in setting down the actual

strength at 6000 or 8000 men.

Like every thing else in Russia, the ships of war look very imposing at

first sight, but will not bear a very close scrutiny. After what we have

stated respecting the venality of the administrative departments, it is

easy to conceive the malversations that must abound in the naval

arsenals. In vain may the government lavish its money and order the

purchase of the needful materials; its intentions are sure to be baffled

by the corruption and rapacity of its servants. The vessels are

generally built of worthless materials, and there is no kind of

peculation but is practised in their construction. We have mentioned the

_Paris_ as an instance of the short duration of Russian ships: and all

the vessels of the same period are in nearly as bad a plight. A single

cruise has been enough to make them unserviceable. We must, however,

admit that the naval boards are not alone to blame for this rapid

destruction. According to the information we have received, it appears

that the ships are built generally of pine or fir; but every one knows

that these kinds of wood, produced in moist places and low bottoms,

cannot possess the solidity required in naval architecture.

Before quitting Sevastopol we made an excursion to the head of the great

bay, to visit the remains of a once celebrated town, of which nothing

now remains but some ruins known under the name Inkermann. We explored

with some interest a long suite of crypts, some of which seem to belong

to the remotest antiquity, while others evidently date from the Lower

Empire. Among the latter we particularly noticed a large chapel,

excavated wholly in the rock, and presenting in its interior all the

characteristics of the Byzantine churches. Above all these subterraneous

edifices, on the highest part of the rocks, stand some fragments of

walls, the sole remains of the castle and town that formerly crowned

those heights. The ruins appear to occupy the site of the ancient

Eupatorion of Strabo, which afterwards, under the name of Theodori,

became the seat of a little Greek principality dependent on the Lower

Empire. It was taken by the Turks in 1475, and soon afterwards totally

destroyed.

FOOTNOTES:

[67] See notes at the end of the volume.

CHAPTER XXXV.

BAGTCHE SERAI--HISTORICAL REVOLUTIONS OF THE CRIMEA--THE

PALACE OF THE KHANS--COUNTESS POTOCKI.

After our excursion to Inkermann we left Sevastopol the same day, glad

to quit the Russians and their naval capital for Bagtche Serai, that

ancient city, which previously to the Muscovite conquest might still vie

in power and opulence with the great cities of the East. Even now,

though much decayed, Bagtche Serai is the most interesting town in the

Crimea.

The road which leads to it runs parallel with a mountain chain, and

commands very beautiful scenery, which we beheld in all the fresh

luxuriance of May. The hills and valleys were clothed with forests of

peach, almond, apple, and apricot trees in full blossom, and the south

wind came to us loaded with their fragrance. We had many a flying

glimpse of landscapes we would willingly have paused to admire in

detail, but the pereclatnoi whirled us along, and towns, hillsides,

winding brooks, farms, meadows, and Tatar villages shot past us with

magic rapidity.

Notwithstanding a temperature of 25 deg. Reaumer, the day appeared to us

very short. Yet we were impatient to see Bagtche Serai, its palace and

its fountains which have been sung by Pushkin, the Russian nightingale;

and this impatience, which increased as we approached our journey's end,

prevented us from visiting different spots which less hasty travellers

would not have disdained. Every mountain, valley, or village has some

peculiar interest of its own. There were aqueducts, old bridges, and

half-ruined towers in every direction to tell of an ancient

civilisation; but all these interested us less, perhaps, than the modest

dwelling in which Pallas long resided, and where he ended his days.