In all his diplomatic relations hitherto, the Emperor Nicholas has

proved himself a worthy disciple of his great ancestor. He has never

made a treaty without obtaining fresh territory, or acquiring the

exercise of rights over new provinces which have ever proved the

inevitable precursors of annexation. Recent attempts at negotiation,

indeed, have not terminated in conformity with the uniform policy of the

Czars; and we may venture to predict that the history of Russia affords

no precedent for any such treaty as that which will probably be made at

the termination of the hostilities now impending—and yet the Emperor has

nothing to reproach himself with. Everything combined to lead him to

suppose that the time had arrived to justify him in entering upon

another step of the annexing process in the direction of Turkey. There

had been comparatively little difficulty in appropriating Turkish

provinces hitherto, and he is going through the customary formalities

when his proceedings are most unexpectedly nipped in the bud, by what he

had, no doubt, heretofore supposed to be an impossible combination of

powers in the West. If the contingency of a war with Europe has never

been anticipated by Russian autocrats as an impediment in the way of

their aggressive designs, it is simply because the possibility of Europe

combined against Russia has never been contemplated. If England and

France were not now united to resist Russia, a treaty with Turkey might

soon be expected upon conditions no less favourable than that of

Adrianople. But, to the dismay and astonishment of the Emperor, the time

for making the treaty has arrived, and he finds that it is literally

hopeless to attempt to drive a profitable bargain. He has been called

upon to choose between unconditional surrender of the countries he has

occupied and unmitigated war. How, then, is he prepared to meet this

contingency so suddenly forced upon him, how is his position affected by

an emergency which has never been provided for, and how are the allied

powers best able to profit by it? It is apparent, that if the power of

Russia for defence or for attack depended only upon the extent of her

resources, it would be enormous. Fortunately, however, the vital

question is, not how vast, but how available those resources are—whether

their development has been increased with the limits of the empire, or

impeded by the acquisition of those extensive territories, the recent

subjugation of which, to the rule of the Czar, must exercise an

important influence upon the destinies of Russia in a crisis like the

present?

In order thoroughly to appreciate these considerations, it would be

necessary to dissect the whole extended frontier of the empire, and

consider generally:—The political combinations which have in every case

led to the annexation of each individual province—the advantage secured

to Russia by such annexation—the present internal condition of the

conquered province—the reasons which render any further extension of the

frontier line in the same direction undesirable—and also to what country

in Europe these reasons are more especially applicable—finally, with

reference to the war now impending, the comparative strength or weakness

of the advanced posts, and their general merits as points of attack. In

making this survey the most eastern limit to which Russian influence

extends forms the natural starting-point, and, as we explore the sands

of Tartary, we shall soon discover that they possess at least far higher

claims upon the notice of the British public than the snows of Lapland.

At the same time, the information which we possess upon this remote

quarter of the globe is so meagre as to render any very full account of

the Kirghiz Steppes and their inhabitants impossible—and the historical

records are so uncertain as to make it somewhat difficult to follow

every step of the process by which Russia gradually exerted her

influence over those nomadic hordes who wander between China and the

Caspian, between Siberia and Khiva. Nor would there be much use in

pursuing the inquiry, did it not derive its interest from the extreme

anxiety Russia has manifested for a century past to advance and

consolidate her power in this direction—incurring vast expense and

sparing no efforts to carry out the apparently insane project of

subduing two millions of the most impracticable savages that ever defied

civilisation, and annexing a more uninhabitable series of deserts than

are to be found in the whole continent of Asia. It is not to be wondered

at, if an attempt so long and earnestly persisted in, and apparently so

little in accordance with the sagacity which usually characterises

Muscovite diplomacy, should attract attention, more especially since the

motives ostensibly assigned by Russia are by no means sufficient to

account for her course of procedure. The necessity of protecting and

encouraging her Eastern trade has been put very prominently forward as

the principal ground of interference with independent barbarians; and,

in so far as her commercial intercourse with Khiva and Boukhara are

likely to promote her ulterior designs, this is doubtless the case. The

trade of the East once passed through the Caucasian provinces; but when

those provinces fell into the hands of Russia, it was diverted into

another channel by the establishment of a restrictive system which

proved that the encouragement of commerce was merely the pretext used to

acquire a territory, the prosperity of which was a matter of

indifference to the government. Had the same energies been expended in

the formation of roads, or the construction of canals throughout the

empire, which have been devoted to the protection of trade on the

Kirghiz Steppes, the best interests of commerce would have been

immeasurably further advanced; and therefore, so far as they are

concerned, we are fairly entitled to assume that they did not furnish

the real motives for any such expenditure. Perhaps a more plausible

excuse is to be found in the annual captures by the Kirghiz of Russians

who were sold to the Khivans as slaves. But the number of these was very

trifling, and the sums spent in a year, for political purposes, would

have sufficed to repurchase ten times over those who were thus

unfortunately kidnapped.

We have had, indeed, sufficient experience of the intrigues of Russia in

the East, to enable us to perceive at once, that the object which she

has in view in subjugating Tartary is none other than that which she

betrayed in her secret intercourse with Persia; and, in the present

state of our political relations with the Russian empire, it is

important to inquire how far her designs in the East have been attended

with success, in order that we may be able to appreciate at their proper

value those rumours respecting the advance of her armies in this

direction, which find a ready circulation among those whom ignorance

disposes to credulity, and an exaggerated estimate of the power and

resources of our enemy excites to alarm. Thus we have had it regularly

communicated to us as a fact for the last six months from India, that a

Russian army is at Oorjunge, two marches distant from Khiva, with an

occasional intimation received from good authority, that it is prepared

to invade India, reinforced by levies of indomitable cavalry, supposed

to have been raised upon the Steppes of Tartary. Alluding to such

reports as these, the _Journal de St Petersburg_ inquires naturally

enough whether the _Times_ and its contemporaries have correspondents in

the little states of Upper Asia, and records with much amusement some of

the most glaring inconsistencies which have been gravely listened to,

and credited by the British public. Thus, although Russia was said to

have formed a quadruple alliance with the Khans of Khiva and Boukhara,

and Dost Mahomed, it was nevertheless necessary to seize the town of

Khiva, which succumbed after an energetic resistance of thirty-two

days—certainly a most improbable mode this of cementing the alliance. At

the same time, it is due to another portion of the home community to

give them the benefit of holding views of a very different character.

They utterly ignore the influence of Russia in the East—treat her

possible advance in that direction as a chimera—and the power which she

has already acquired as a bugbear from which nothing is to be

apprehended. The fact that views so diametrically opposed to one another

are very generally entertained in this country, induces us to hope that

any information we may be able to afford upon a subject which has

hitherto been scarcely investigated, may prove both useful and

interesting.

Among the vast and varied schemes formed by Peter the Great, for

increasing his dominions and his influence in the East, he early

conceived the design of opening up a trade with those nations to which,

of all European powers, Russia was the most contiguous, and whose riches

at that period found their outlet by different overland routes to the

great markets of the West. In 1717, he sent a mission to the Khan of

Khiva, under Prince Bekevitch, to negotiate a commercial treaty. The

attempt, however, proved abortive, and Prince Bekevitch and his whole

troop were assassinated. This catastrophe served its purpose, in so far

as it proved that the really effective way of attaining the desired end

would ultimately be by coercion, rather than by alliance. But as the

vast tract of intervening country was inhabited by wandering tribes of

savages, their subjugation was involved in any scheme of extended

conquest. The motives which stimulated and encouraged Russia in the

accomplishment of this primary object, have increased in proportion as

the possessions and influence of Great Britain in India have been

extended, and that trade monopolised by the enterprise and capital of

this country, which Peter the Great had destined to flow in a very

different direction. The task, however, has proved one which for a

century has demanded the exercise of a more than usual share of

Muscovite cunning and perseverance; nor has it yet been so perfectly

completed as to render the conquest of Khiva a matter of certain

practicability. It fortunately does not fall within our limits to enter

into any dissertation upon the origin of the Kirghiz Cuzzacks, or to

attempt to chronicle the early history of these tribes, which is as

vague and uncertain as records of barbarism usually are. It appears that

the country now inhabited by the Kirghiz Cuzzacks, was formerly occupied

by the Black Kirghiz or Bouroutes, nomades who attained to some degree

of civilisation by reason of the commercial relations which they

maintained with the Arabs, Boukharians, and above all, with the Khazars,

who, inhabiting the Steppes of Southern Russia, kept up a constant

intercourse with Constantinople. Towards the close of the seventeenth

century, the Bouroutes were compelled finally to emigrate to the

neighbourhood of Kashgar, thus relieving the southern provinces of

Siberia from the presence of a tribe whose warlike and predatory habits

had proved a constant source of annoyance and irritation. The

tranquillity of these provinces, however, was of short duration. The

Kirghiz Cuzzacks, who now extended their wanderings to the borders of

Siberia, claimed to be of Turkish origin, and had formed a portion of

the subjects of the celebrated Gengis Khan. They were originally called

Cuzzacks, and the prenomen of Kirghiz was merely used as a distinctive

appellation. Spreading over the Steppes of Tartary, they made frequent

inroads upon the Russian territory, and in 1717 penetrated as far as

Kazan. Surrounded, however, by tribes of Bashkirs, Calmucks, Zungars,

and Nogais, the Kirghiz were continually attacking or being attacked,

while their division into three hordes, the reason of which has never

been fully accounted for, did not increase their warlike capabilities.

Thus it happened that the great horde was completely subjugated by the

powerful tribe of the Zungars, whose territory extended to the Chinese

frontier; and it soon after became apparent that the middle and little

hordes could not much longer continue to make a successful stand against

the western tribes. In this emergency, Aboulkhair, the most celebrated

of Kirghiz Khans, perceived the advantage of obtaining the protection of

Russia. As, however, both hordes were excessively averse to any such

proposal, the negotiations were carried on with great tact and secresy

by Tevkelef, a Russian agent, who guaranteed to Aboulkhair the

assistance of Russia, in order to enable him to carry his designs into

execution. This, however, did not become necessary; the consent of the

Kirghiz was ultimately obtained, partly through the persuasive eloquence

of Tevkelef, and partly by the influence of Aboulkhair; and in 1734, the

middle and little hordes were formally enrolled as subjects of the

Empress Ann.

The submission thus obtained was not of any very permanent character,

and Kirilof was sent with a small body of troops into the Kirghiz

Steppes to take measures, which should insure the permanent subjection

of these tribes. His instructions afford us the first glimpse of the

ulterior designs of Russia, and the means proposed for their execution.

Kirilof was commanded at once to build a town and fort at the embouchure

of the Ori; to assemble the Khans and ancients of the two hordes, and

obtain from them, in the presence of their subjects, the oath of

allegiance, and having succeeded in this, he was to preserve the

obedience of the Kirghiz by gentleness or by force, by presents or by

menaces, according to circumstances. The Ural was to be considered the

boundary of the empire, and the newly-acquired subjects were strictly

prohibited from crossing it. A caravan was to be despatched across the

Steppes to Boukhara, with the least possible delay, and every effort was

to be used in order to attract merchandise from every part of Asia.

Kirilof was himself to examine the annexed country, in the hope of

discovering mines. A port was to be established upon the Sea of Aral,

and ships built upon the Ural, and kept ready to be transported thither

as soon as the town should be built, and such terms made with the

Kirghiz as would facilitate their conveyance, and that of the artillery

with which they were to be provided.

Among his diplomatic instructions Kirilof was told to avail himself of

the animosity which existed between the Kirghiz and Bashkirs, to

restrain it as much as possible so long as they continued subservient to

the designs of Russia; but, in case of disaffection being exhibited on

either side, he was to excite their mutual jealousies and thus save the

expenditure of Russian troops. The exportation of ammunition was

strictly prohibited, nor was Aboulkhair to be supplied with pecuniary

assistance to carry on war with the Khivans, or to be encouraged in it.

It was considered peculiarly desirable that as much information as

possible should be acquired relative to the more distant frontier

tribes, and more particularly the Zungars, who possessed Turkistan, and

who ranked amongst the most powerful of these. Kirilof, however, had

scarcely commenced to carry out these instructions, and had just founded

the town of Orenburgh, which has since risen to a position of such

importance as the emporium of the Eastern trade of Russia, when he died.

Thus had it been reserved for the Empress Ann to take the first step

towards accomplishing what Peter the Great had meditated, and was about

to attempt after the Swedish war when death terminated his career.

It was not long after Kirilof’s death before a revolt among the Bashkirs

and Calmucks rendered it necessary for his successor to stimulate

Aboulkhair to attack the rebellious tribes. Indeed the subjects of the

Khan, unaccustomed to so much tranquillity, desired nothing better than

to be let loose upon their old foes, and entered upon the war with such

good will that they not only speedily succeeded in suppressing the

rebellion, but created some anxiety to Russia lest a portion of her

subjects might be altogether extirpated, and the counter-irritation,

which she desired to preserve to keep Aboulkhair in check, destroyed;

for it was evidently essential to the success of the system that no one

tribe should acquire such a preponderance over the others as no longer

to dread them, or require the protection of Russia. The ambition of

Aboulkhair, however, was sufficiently restrained by the fear of

endangering the life of his son, who was retained at St Petersburg as a

hostage. Indeed, without these pledges of the good faith of the border

tribes, there was no means of insuring their submission longer than it

was consistent with their own convenience; and throughout the later

history of the Kirghiz, we find them continually intriguing for

assistance with their powerful neighbours, sending hostages to Peking as

often as to St Petersburg, and endeavouring so to bring to bear the

influence of their protectors as to secure their own ends, without

permanently compromising their independence. Thus the allegiance of the

Kirghiz to Russia was in a great degree nominal, and was resumed and

cast off at pleasure. The advantages, however, which Russia derived from

her uncertain dominion over her inconstant neighbours, and the hopes she

entertained of rendering it permanent, were so great as to make it

expedient to deal leniently with such troublesome conduct; and she soon

learnt to discern how far she might extort obedience and make her will

felt, without driving those whom she desired to rule to seek some less

exacting protector.

Thus it will appear that the governor of Orenburgh was in a good school

for diplomatic training, and after a successful administration here, was

competent to officiate as minister at any capital in Europe. To know how

best to profit by the distresses of his neighbours was the sum and

substance of his policy, and just in proportion as they were desirous of

propitiating Russia, did Russia refuse to be easily propitiated. So it

happened that, after the plunder and massacre of the Calmucks and

Bashkirs, Aboulkhair humbly sued for pardon,—for a new bugbear had risen

in the person of the warlike Galdane Tsyrène, Khan of the Zungars, who

held hostages both from the great and middle hordes; and the governor of

Orenburgh, of course, pretended to hesitate before receiving the renewed

allegiance of the little horde. This conjuncture of circumstances was

deemed favourable to the project of a town on the Sea of Aral, which, at

Aboulkhair’s request, was to be built at the mouth of the Syr

(Jaxartes), and an engineer officer was despatched to carry it into

execution: the difficulties in the way, however, proved insurmountable,

and the scheme fell to the ground. An attempt to carry out another

article of Kirilof’s instructions was equally unfortunate, and the first

caravan ever despatched from Orenburgh to Boukhara was plundered on the

steppes. Shortly after this Aboulkhair, who, profiting by the protection

of Russia, if not by her assistance, had possessed himself of Khiva, was

driven out of that country by the formidable Nadir Shah. From this

period his power gradually declined, and he was assassinated not long

after the death of his enemy, the Khan of the Zungars. Russia obtained

the election of Nourali, his son, as his successor, and offered him the

use of a thousand men for fifteen days to erect a tomb to his father, on

the condition that it should be four days’ march on the direct road to

Khiva, and that a town should be built near it. Engineering and every

other assistance was afforded, in the hope that fixed habitations might

be established at least at one spot upon the steppes; but the suspicions

of the Kirghiz were roused, and they positively refused to permit the

attempt, reminding the engineer officer, who endeavoured to overcome

their objections, of the conquest of Astrakhan and Kazan, and assuring

him that if those nomades had not fixed themselves where they did, their

descendants would have been free still. Nourali had not long held the

dignity of Khan before he offered to retake Khiva if Russia would

furnish him with 10,000 men, and the necessary artillery. This was

declined, as it was apparent that the conquest of Khiva by tribes who

wished to strengthen themselves against the authority of Russia, would

only retard her own views of conquest in the same direction, which could

never be accomplished until the Kirghiz themselves were thoroughly

reduced to subjection. One of the most striking illustrations of the

method by which Russia hoped to arrive at so desirable a consummation,

is afforded by an act of singular perfidy, of which Neplouieff, then

governor of Orenburgh, was the perpetrator. The Bashkirs who inhabited

what is now the province of Orenburgh, although they had been subject to

Russia ever since the reign of Ivan Groznoi, had always been most

insubordinate. In 1755 they originated a revolt in which the Kazan

Tartars took part. It soon spread so widely as to cause the government

much alarm, since the possibility of a junction being formed with the

Kirghiz to the south rendered the position of the Russian line extremely

critical. Neplouieff, however, who was a man of resource, devised a

notable plan for extricating himself from his dangerous situation.

Raising an army, chiefly composed of Don Cossacks and Calmucks, he

succeeded in intimidating the insurgents, and, by promising pardon to

those who would submit, he for the time put down the rebellion: those

who did not trust his offer sought refuge with the Kirghiz. Fearing that

the lull was merely temporary, Neplouieff perceived that the only real

safety lay in sowing the seeds of irreconcilable enmity between the

Bashkirs and Kirghiz. He determined, therefore, to deliver into the

hands of the latter the wives and children of those of the Bashkirs who

had trusted in his offers of pardon; upon two conditions—first, that the

Kirghiz should come into the province of Orenburgh, and forcibly carry

off their prizes; secondly, that they should give up the Bashkir

refugees to the Russian government. He communicated this happy thought

to St Petersburg, where it met with the royal approval, and an

intimation was received by the Kirghiz, to the effect that the Empress

in her bounty had made them a present of the wives and children of the

Bashkirs. The voluptuous Kirghiz rushed to the spoil. Their unfortunate

victims, confiding in the promise of Neplouieff, were taken by surprise;

and although they fought well for everything that was most dear to them,

those of the men who did not escape were brutally massacred, and the

Kirghiz returned triumphantly laden with their living booty. The

Bashkirs no sooner came back to their homes than they vowed vengeance,

and applied to the Russian government to be allowed to cross the border

to obtain satisfaction for such deep injuries. Neplouieff publicly

proclaimed that the Empress could not permit so bloodthirsty a

proceeding; and when he had thereby thrown the Kirghiz off their guard,

he gave secret orders to the commanders of the garrisons on the line,

not to stop the transit of armed Bashkirs. When these latter learnt that

the way to the Kirghiz steppes was thus open to them, large bands poured

across the frontier line, pounced upon the unsuspecting Kirghiz—who,

trusting in the promised protection of Russia, were enjoying the

possession of their prizes in fancied security—returned with interest

the pillage and massacre their own tribe had suffered, and, regaining

most of those whom they had supposed lost for ever, conveyed them in

safety to their own homes. Nourali complained bitterly of so flagrant a

breach of good faith. Neplouieff answered that the Kirghiz had given up

all the Bashkir refugees not according to agreement; that the bargain

was therefore at an end; and that he might shortly expect another inroad

of Bashkirs. The Kirghiz prepared for their reception, and the two

tribes continued mutually to slaughter one another, until Neplouieff,

judging that they were so much weakened as no longer to be formidable

separately, and hated each other too cordially ever to be united,

prohibited the Bashkirs from crossing the frontier, and thus put a stop

to the war. About this period the empire of the Zungars was overturned

by the Chinese, and the Kirghiz grand horde delivered from their

conquerors. They increased and spread rapidly under a powerful and

enterprising Khan, vanquishing the Calmucks on the east, and extending

their incursions to Tashkend. One of the most remarkable events,

however, in the history of these steppes, was the Calmuck emigration

from the shores of the Volga to join their brethren on the frontiers of

China who had at the same time been freed from the yoke of the Zungars.

This migration has been ascribed to various causes. Whatever may have

originated it, the Russian government exerted all its energies to

overtake the fugitives. The cupidity of all the tribes of Central Asia

was roused to check the advance of more than twenty-eight thousand tents

of Calmucks, who, with their flocks and families, performed this

wonderful journey; and, in spite of the most incredible natural

obstacles, encountered, with more or less success, the attacks of the

three hordes of Kirghiz, fairly distancing a Russian army that was sent

in pursuit from the lines of Orenburgh. The Black Kirghiz or Bouroutes,

however, made such terrible havoc among these unfortunate adventurers,

that they lost about half their number before arriving at their

destination.

During the reign of the Empress Catharine, the relations of Russia with

the Kirghiz tended more than ever to two results which it had mainly in

view: the first was to establish fixed habitations in the two hordes;

the second, to secure the inviolability of caravans. The forts of Troisk

and Semipalatinsk were built as trading stations, and a town was

projected upon the banks of the Emba nearly one-third of the way to

Khiva. This, however, was not then carried out. Indeed, notwithstanding

the efforts made to tame and civilise the Kirghiz, they ever proved most

pertinacious barbarians. The mosques built here and there for their use

upon the steppe were allowed to fall into decay; and although caravans

were no longer so invariably plundered as formerly, the attempt to erect

caravanserais on the road to Khiva for their accommodation failed

signally. Agriculturists were sent to their encampments from Russia; but

the art of cultivation has scarcely improved to this day, nor has the

extent of cultivated ground increased. Nourali, in spite of many

protestations of loyalty, was always most insubordinate, and, as alleged

by Russia, he encouraged his tribe in the capture of Russian slaves for

the Khivan market, so as ultimately to incur the vengeance of the

government, and render an expedition to the sources of the Emba

necessary to recover the captives. These, however, had been transferred

to Khiva before the arrival of the Russian troops, who compensated

themselves for their trouble and disappointment by retaliating on their

enemies after their own fashion, and capturing two hundred and thirteen

Kirghiz, women and children.

Not long afterwards, the power of Nourali was much shaken by the growing

popularity of an adventurer named Syrym, whose terrible and successful

inroads into Russia soon procured him the support of the greater portion

of the tribe. The policy of Russia on this occasion is worthy of notice.

Perceiving that the ability of the usurper would render him a formidable

neighbour, she offered to withdraw her protection from Nourali, and

place him at the head of the tribe under another title than that of

Khan. Syrym seized the opportunity thus presented of getting rid of his

rival. Nourali was for no ostensible reason deposed, a new constitution

formed, and Syrym was placed as representative of the assembly of the

Kirghiz little horde. The middle horde had some time previous to this

increased in importance under an enterprising chief, who consolidated

his power so successfully, by maintaining relations with China, that he

was enabled to throw off the Muscovite yoke. Meantime Catharine directed

her attention more exclusively than ever to the internal organisation of

the little horde. She constituted tribunals in three of the tribes, the

heads of which were salaried by Russia; presents of land were made to

those of the Kirghiz who would establish themselves in the empire, and

permission was given them to settle wherever they pleased within the

frontier; in consequence of which forty-five thousand tents wintered in

Russia the same year. Syrym, however, proved faithless. He was

discovered to be tampering with the Turks, who were then at war with

Russia, and finally threw off his allegiance. The Empress had now gained

a sort of prescriptive right to the election of the chief of the horde;

her influence assumed a permanent character, and she was enabled to

enforce the regulations she had imposed. It is adduced as an evidence of

the improved state of things, that no less than twenty-two thousand

tents, at their own request, established themselves inside the Russian

frontier, where they have remained peaceable subjects ever since. The

real fact that this emigration was compulsory does not alter the value

of the testimony.

During all this while, the grand horde, whose remote position rendered

them less amenable to Russia, had not been enjoying independence. It

seemed essential to the existence of these wandering tribes that they

should be protected by the countries on whose frontiers they

occasionally encamped—and the grand horde had been subjects successively

of the Khan of Kokan and the Emperor of China. About this time, however,

a large portion of it under the Khan transferred their allegiance to the

Empress, who now found her influence extending more rapidly than ever.

The middle horde was shortly after compelled to follow the example. This

horde had, indeed, enjoyed greater tranquillity and independence than

either of the others; it had neither been exposed to such repeated

attacks from without, nor suffered, except for short intervals, from the

protection of Russia. Now, however, tribunals of justice similar to

those in the little horde were constituted; and not long after, it was

thought necessary to draw out rules for the internal administration of

such of the Kirghiz tribes as were definitely comprised in the category

of Inorodtsï. The Inorodtsï are defined by Russia to be “subjects of

Russia, without being Russians, or being confounded with the general

population of the empire;—colonists, constituting colonies of their own,

with their own regulations. They are half-savage nations, to whom the

empire, interested, no doubt, but always benevolent, allows the

advantage of its enlightened protection.” A few extracts from the

regulations drawn up for the government of the Kirghiz, may not be

uninteresting, as illustrating the mode in which Russia proposed to

exercise over these remote tribes that protectorate which has now become

so proverbial as the distinguishing feature of her aggressive policy.

The Kirghiz are divided into volostes; these volostes into aouls. An

aoul is generally composed of one hundred and seventy tents, and a

volost of ten or twelve aouls. A division contains fifteen or twenty

volostes. The people of these divisions may communicate with one another

without permission, but the limits are fixed by the officers of the

quartermaster’s department attached to the superior authority of the

line. The divisions are divided into those which border with countries

not dependent on Russia—the numbers of which should be as few as

possible—and those which abut upon the Russian frontier, which should be

as numerous as possible.

The aouls are governed by starchines publicly elected every three years.

The volostes are governed by sultans; the office of sultan is

hereditary. In each division there is a chamber of administration

(Prikaz), constituted by a president or starchi-sultan, who is the

highest authority in the division, and is elected for three years by the

starchines, and receives 1200 rubles annually; two Russian members, who

are named by the superior authority of the province, and receive 1000

rubles annually; and two grandees, who are also elected by the

starchines for two years. Should the Prikaz disapprove of the popular

election of a starchine, it cannot reject him, but refers the matter to

the superior authority. None of the members of the chamber can resign

without permission from the same source. The starchi-sultan ranks with a

major in the Russian army. If he is twice elected, he is raised to the

rank of a nobleman of the empire. The other members rank as Russian

employés of the 9th class; the sultans of volostes as of the 12th. The

starchines and grandees rank with mayors of communities. From this it

would appear that, though all the members of the government are

nominally elected, there is not one of the offices, from the

starchi-sultan downwards, that is not under the control of the superior

Russian authority of the province. There is another tribunal presided

over by the starchi-sultan, the functions of which are to make

arrangements for the safety of the people in time of trouble; to watch

over the domestic interests of the community, and encourage industry; to

allow none to take the law into their own hands, no plundering of

caravans; and, after due trial, to punish the offenders with death if

necessary. There is a commanda or company of soldiers quartered near the

Prikaz to keep the peace and protect caravans, and sentinels must be

kept upon the boundaries of each division. Permission may be given to

trade, but Chinese merchants found in the divisions are to be sent back

to the frontier. Migrations into Russia by Kirghiz are not allowed

without permission, and the sultans are personally responsible for the

observance of the prescribed rules, and for the public peace and

security. Houses for the members and officials connected with the Prikaz

are to be built together with hospitals in each division, and a barrack

for the Cossacks. For the first five years no taxes are levied; and

after that the Issak, or a contribution of one animal out of every

hundred, becomes due—except in the case of camels. Horses must be

supplied gratuitously for Cossack regiments; and the line of

communication must be maintained between each division and the frontier.

Intercourse must be carried on daily between the aoul and the sultan,

and the latter is ordered to keep up a weekly communication with the

Russian authority by a courier on horseback. The corn trade is to be

encouraged, and government granaries instituted; but the importation of

corn brandy, or the distillation of it in the divisions, is prohibited.

The cultivation of land is to be encouraged in every way. Five or six

square versts round the Prikaz is the exclusive perquisite of the

starchi-sultan; the other members are entitled to different proportions,

as well as every domiciled Cossack or agriculturally disposed Kirghiz,

provided he steadily perseveres in his new occupation. The land then

becomes hereditary. The Russian members and Cossacks are specially

enjoined to set the example, and show to the ignorant Kirghiz the use of

hedges and ditches. Implements of husbandry, and other assistance, will

be supplied by government. Missions and schools are to be established,

and the Kirghiz to be permitted to send their children to Russia for

their education. The superior Russian authority is commanded to make a

tour of the divisions once a year. Slavery is prohibited. During the

introduction of these rules, it is to be proclaimed as publicly as

possible that the whole middle horde is under the Russian rule, and that

faithful subjects on either side of the frontier shall enjoy the same

rights. They must also be translated, and those volostes who do not

submit to them are to be rigorously excluded from contact with those who

do. So long, therefore, as the little horde will not conform to these

rules, they are to be regarded as strangers. The lines of Siberia and

the forts along it are not to be considered as fixed establishments; but

the frontier is to be gradually extended as the new regime is propagated

and embraces more distant portions of the tribe. The effective movement

of the frontier line is only to take place upon the decision of the

supreme authority,—when a detailed and circumstantial plan is to be

presented, showing a favourable conjuncture of circumstances, and taking

into consideration the interests of the frontier posts and local

situations. Hence it appears that “the effective movement of the

frontier line” into their territory is one of those privileges which

Russia, “interested, no doubt, but always benevolent,” allows to the

Inorodtsï or frontier nations to whom she accords her protection. The

savage character of the Kirghiz, however, has proved their chief

protection; for these rules for an improved system of internal

organisation, so skilfully designed to destroy their nationality, have

never been fully carried into effect, and the larger proportion of the

Kirghiz have maintained their independence more entirely than the

inhabitants of the more civilised countries of the west.

From the account we have already given of the policy of Russia with

respect to these hordes, it is plain that, while she professes to

encourage and protect their advances towards civilisation, her real

object is their total subjugation; and the only possible way of

accounting for her efforts to make an acquisition intrinsically so

undesirable, is by the fact that it is necessary to her ulterior designs

upon Khiva; and therefore it is that our inquiries are more especially

directed to that part of the Kirghiz steppe through which a Russian army

advancing upon Khiva would be compelled to march. So few travellers have

recently visited these remote countries, and the information which we

can obtain from Russian sources is so very meagre, and liable to so much

suspicion, that it would be impossible here to enter into a detailed or

minute analysis of the state of feeling towards Russia which prevails

among the tribes of the little horde, or describe the facilities for

moving large bodies of troops which Russia may recently have established

upon the line of march. We know that ostensibly her influence extends

over all the Kirghiz inhabiting the country between the Sea of Aral and

the Caspian, and that the boundary line between the Kirghiz and the

Turcomans, in this direction, is merely imaginary, following as nearly

as possible the 44th parallel of latitude. On the east of the Sea of

Aral the Syr is the limit of Russian influence; and to the south of

that, the Oozbegs and Karakalpaks extend to Khiva, forming a portion of

the subjects of that government.

There are four routes by which a Russian army could cross the steppes of

Tartary to Khiva. That which is best known is identical with the great

caravan route from Orenburgh to Boukhara, as far as the southeast corner

of the Sea of Aral, where it branches off to Khiva. The country has been

accurately described by Meyendorff and Eversmann, who made the journey

by separate routes to Boukhara in 1820. Meyendorff was attached to a

mission, under M. de Negri, sent to negotiate a commercial treaty with

the Khan of Boukhara; and as he travelled with a heavy caravan and some

troops, his journey gives us some idea of the difficulties which would

be opposed to an army following the same line. For the first three

hundred miles these would not be very serious. The country, though

partially desert and hilly, is well supplied with water. Numerous

rivulets, frozen in winter, dry in summer, and abundant in spring and

autumn, run down the valleys; and upon their banks enough verdure is

found to satisfy the wants of the camels. The aouls of the Kirghiz are

frequent where the pasture is good; and at this short distance from the

frontier they are comparatively submissive, and their assistance in

transporting the artillery and heavy baggage would be indispensable to

the Russians. The camels, though enduring, and of a good breed, are not

accustomed to heavy loads, and are excessively slow as compared with

those of the Arabian deserts. Tombs are the only buildings to be seen

upon the whole route, which is of the most cheerless character

imaginable. The Ilek and the Emba are the most considerable streams.

Beyond the latter river, the road, by a rocky pass, crosses the hills of

Moughodjar, which are accounted important in the steppe country, above

which they rise to a height of nearly a thousand feet. The southern

slopes of these hills are utterly devoid of vegetation; and here the

real hardships of the way commence. The desert of Borzouk, which

intervenes between this range and the Sea of Aral, furnishes a most

scanty supply of water, and is composed of deep moving sand, rendering

the carriage of artillery very arduous. Many of the carts accompanying

Meyendorff’s expedition were burnt for fuel, and the cattle suffered

severely from want of water, which, when it was procurable at all, was

generally very bitter or brackish. It was often found at a depth of five

feet from the surface. Fodder was equally scarce, camel-thorn and

wormwood scrub forming the entire means of subsistence for the camels.

To add to the dreary aspect of the country, extensive saline deposits

are crossed frequently, while occasionally the track skirts a salt lake;

but few inhabitants are met with on these desolate wastes, and those not

to be depended upon. The expedition was upwards of a month in reaching

the Sea of Aral from Orenburgh, and, travelling along its desert shores,

arrived at last at the mouths of the Syr or Jaxartes. It is now reported

that a line of Cossacks has been established along the whole of this

route. But we are almost inclined to doubt the practicability of

permanent posts being maintained across the great Borzouk sands, which

extend from the Moughodjar mountains to the Sea of Aral. Between

Orenburgh and these mountains we know that Cossack posts do exist; and

it is said that a garrison has been placed upon the Emba, which would

serve as a cantonment for reserves. This station was first established

here at the time of Peroffsky’s expedition. This general succeeded, with

ten thousand men, in reaching an intrenched camp half-way between the

Emba and the Sea of Aral; but here (his journey having been undertaken

in the dead of winter) he was stopped by the snow-drifts; and although

he successfully defended himself from the attacks of the Oozbeg and

Turcoman troops, sent from Khiva to arrest his further progress, he was

compelled to retreat from his critical position, after suffering the

loss of more than three-fourths of his men—thus proving that the

obstacles which nature interposed to prevent his invading Khiva were

more formidable than those which were to be encountered from Khivan

troops. Of the _object_ of this expedition we shall speak presently. Its

failure has been held to establish the fact that the transport of an

army across the Kirghiz steppes is utterly impracticable. This is a

point, however, which does not deserve to be thus summarily decided

upon. Russia has evidently not abandoned the idea of invading Khiva; and

in spite of our assertions of its non-feasibility, she may prove some

day that her endeavours to improve the means of communication with the

shores of the Sea of Aral have not been unavailing. She has established

a port at the mouth of the Jaxartes, and launched two iron steamers upon

waters skimmed heretofore only by the reed canoe of the savage Kirghiz.

And the determination displayed, in arrangements such as these, to make

this route available, should teach us not to treat too lightly the

efforts of a powerful and ambitious nation to subvert the existing

political organisation of the states of Central Asia, and direct their

resources against the single European power which has hitherto

monopolised the lion’s share of their commerce. At the same time, it

must not be supposed that the nature of the country to be traversed is

the only impediment to the transport of troops. The southern Kirghiz are

sufficiently far removed from the frontier of Russia not to dread its

punishment; and as voluntary allegiance is never to be depended upon to

the same extent as that which has been enforced, so the insubordinate

tribes of the little horde, tempted by the prospect of plunder which the

camp of the invading army would offer to them, might, by judiciously

planned night assaults, inconceivably harass its movements; while,

should they desire altogether to check the further advance of the army

into their territory, burning the dry shrubs which form the only

pasturage, or poisoning the few scattered wells upon which the army is

dependent, are devices with which such savages are familiar. Moreover,

they alone could supply the camels necessary for the transport of

commissariat and artillery; and were they to desert the army in these

sandy wastes, pursuit would be impossible. Hence it follows that the

co-operation of the Kirghiz is essential to the success of an expedition

through their country; and we gather from the universal testimony of

travellers, that such co-operation is not to be depended upon. They are

avaricious, treacherous, and indolent, yet possessing violent passions.

For a century they have professed allegiance to Russia, during which

period she has endeavoured to coax them into a state of permanent

obedience by a lavish expenditure, and the gentlest treatment; by the

building of mosques, houses, schools, and courts of justice; by the

appointment of khans, and by the encouragement of agriculture; and she

has succeeded no better than China, who uses threats instead of

entreaties, force instead of presents, and who, by the most excessive

cruelty, has fruitlessly endeavoured to force her commands upon the

grand horde. The Russian Kirghiz still continue to misbehave and

apologise as usual: they still sell slaves to Khiva, and deny their

guilt; and Russia, unable to punish them, accords them her gracious

protection, because she hopes to march, by their help, some day to Khiva

to—recapture her slaves! Indeed, it is not to be expected that Kirghiz

will respect Russians when they sell their own children to Russians

themselves, and, in spite of the professed prohibition upon this

traffic, continue to receive, on an average, three bags of corn for a

boy, and two for a girl. No wonder the Russian trader finds this a

profitable investment. The general trade, which consists of the exchange

of horses, cows, sheep and goats, for grain and some of the simple

luxuries of life, has decreased within the last few years. The

population of the grand horde, partly subject to China, and partly

independent, is estimated at four hundred thousand. The middle horde,

the northern portion of which is _really_ subject to Russia, and the

whole nominally so, numbers about a million; and the little horde, whose

allegiance is similarly divided, contains only two hundred thousand

souls.

Hitherto we have only described the route to Khiva as far as the

Jaxartes, because it is probable that a Russian army would embark there

for Khiva. The Jaxartes divides into numerous channels near its mouth,

forming an extensive delta, covered with reeds so tall that, although

Meyendorff and Eversmann visited the embouchure for the purpose, they

could not catch a glimpse of the waters of the lake. These reeds, matted

together, form floating islands; and the natives construct rafts and

canoes with them, upon which to cross the deep broad stream of the Syr.

Forests of rushes fringe the southern and eastern coasts of the Sea of

Aral, which is reported to be shallow throughout its whole extent. The

banks of the Syr are considered the most favoured region in the globe by

the Kirghiz, who there find trees occasionally six feet high, and

rejoice in vegetation of a corresponding luxuriance. Upon some islands

there are singular ruins of tombs and temples. It occupies a caravan

five days of incessant marching through tall rushes to cross the delta.

The principal arm of the river is said by Eversmann to be eight hundred

yards broad. To the south of the Jaxartes, the route passes through a

wood of saxaul, a species of tamarisk, and then crosses the worst desert

in this part of Asia—the Kisil Koum, or Red Sand Desert. A loaded

caravan is obliged to carry with it a five days’ supply of water, and is

exposed to the attacks of the Kirghiz and Oozbegs who are subject to

Khiva, and who inhabit the eastern shores of the Sea of Aral. It would

be madness for a Russian army to attempt this route, and therefore the

port has been wisely established at the mouth of the Syr. On the arrival

of Meyendorff at Boukhara, after a journey of seventy-one days from

Orenburgh, fifty of the horses which formed part of the escort died of

fatigue.

The second route to which we have referred, passes along the western

shores of the Sea of Aral. It was traversed in 1842 by a Russian mission

to Khiva, and has been described by Basiner, a German, who accompanied

the expedition. He left Orenburgh in August, the most trying time of the

year, but found pasture abundant as far as the Ilek; it becomes scarcer

between that river and the Emba. The route followed the line of Cossack

posts at first; then crossing the Moughodjar hills, it enters upon the

desert of the Oust Ourt, at a distance of about six hundred versts from

Orenburgh. This plateau, elevated more than a thousand feet above the

sea, is perfectly level, and is composed of deep sand. For days not a

hill was visible, and our traveller records passing a mound three feet

high as a curiosity. Cliffs overhang the Sea of Aral, and occasionally

rivulets trickle into it, but water is sometimes not met with for two or

three days at a time. For three weeks not even a wandering Kirghiz was

seen; and then, at the south western corner of the Sea of Aral, only the

most savage specimens were met with. Still this is the route which, if

there be any truth in the rumour of a Russian army being at Oorjunge, it

most probably must have taken; unless they had been conveyed across the

Sea of Aral by steam, as, if they had followed its Eastern shores, they

would have marched direct upon Khiva. Altogether the journey lasted

seven weeks, and the description here given of the route does not lead

us to suppose for a moment that it would be practicable for troops, more

especially if their passage was disputed.

The third route, which has ever been regarded by Russia with a more

favourable eye, crosses from Mung Ishlak, on the Caspian, to Khiva, over

the southern portion of this same plateau, and has been accurately

described by Captain Abbott. He estimates the highest point of the Oust

Ourt steppe at two thousand feet above the sea-level, and gives a

picture of the route, calculated to appal the most determined general

that ever led an army. Although it is only four hundred and eighty

miles, or about half as far from the Russian fort of Alexandrofski, on

the eastern shores of the Caspian, to Khiva, as from Orenburgh to the

same place, the difficulties of the traject would be far greater. Not

even the tent of a Kirghiz was seen by Abbott during an interval of

eight days: herbage was always scarce; and on one occasion the wells

were one hundred and sixty miles apart. But the most serious objection

to this route lay in the fact, that the greater part of it passes

through the country inhabited by the tribes of Turcomans, which are

subjects of Khiva, and a far more courageous and enterprising people

than the Kirghiz. For a lengthened period the troops would be obliged to

sustain the attacks of a most pertinacious foe, in addition to the

frightful hardships incidental to the route. Caravans, no doubt, prefer

coming from Russia by Astrakhan and Mung Ishlak, to going round by

Orenburgh; but the requirements of a caravan are very different from

those of an army, and not until every soldier is supplied with a camel

can the same rules be made applicable to both.

The fourth and last route is that which Mouraviev followed, in an

expedition which he made to the country of the Turcomans, and afterwards

to Khiva, at the desire of the Russian government, in 1819–20. The

objects of this mission, undertaken a very short time before that of M.

de Negri to Boukhara, throws considerable light upon the policy of

Russia in these states. After the fatal termination of Prince

Bekevitch’s expedition, it became evident that, without propitiating the

Turcomans, it would be impossible to maintain friendly relations with

the countries lying beyond them; and in 1813, M. Rtichichev, the general

then commanding in Georgia, sent into Turcomania Jean Mouratov, an

Armenian merchant of Derbend, who, carrying on commercial transactions

at Astrabad, had preserved relations with that country. At this period

the Turcomans were an independent race, at war with Persia, and their

alliance with Russia would prove a most opportune assistance to this

latter power, who would thus command the whole northern Persian

frontier. The proposal made by the Russian envoy for such an alliance,

was eagerly received by the Khan of the Turcomans, and deputies sent to

treat with Rtichichev. They found him at Gulistan, in Karabagh,

concluding peace with Aboul Hhussein Khan. The Persian plenipotentiary,

perceiving at once the danger of the proposed alliance between the

Russians and Turcomans, objected to treat unless it were abandoned. This

was agreed to by Russia; and many of the unfortunate Turcomans, feeling

they were no longer able to resist Persia, submitted to that power,

giving hostages to insure their future good behaviour. The Khan,

however, with many followers, retired to Khiva for shelter; while

another portion of the tribe took refuge upon the shores of the Caspian,

in the bay of Balkhan, where they were beyond the reach of a Persian

army—and they have ever since not only maintained their independence,

but have become the most successful slave-dealers in this part of the

world. Five years after the treaty of Gulistan, and while still at peace

with Persia, Russia, anxious to secure the alliance of a tribe whose

hostility to that power would materially affect the existing state of

their mutual political relations, deliberately, and in defiance of an

express stipulation to the contrary, reopened communications with the

independent portion of the Turcoman nation, and Major Ponomarev and

Mouraviev were sent to negotiate the act of treachery. The following

passage from Major Ponomarev’s instructions may serve to illustrate

their general character:—“From address in your conduct, the most

favourable results may be anticipated; and upon this point the knowledge

which you have of the Tartar language will be most useful. In your

character of European, do not consider that flattery is a means which

you cannot employ. It is very common among Asiatic nations; and although

it may cost you something, you will find it to your advantage not to

fear being too lavish of it. Your residence among a people who are

almost altogether unknown to us, will furnish you, better than my

instructions can, with light sufficient to guide you. As I believe in

your capacity and zeal, I flatter myself that this attempt to form

amicable alliances with the Turcomans will not be without success, and

that the knowledge you will acquire of the country will facilitate the

ulterior designs of government.” The first Turcoman encampment visited

was at the southeast corner of the Caspian, near Cape Serebrenoi. The

Turcomans were delighted at the prospect of a Russian alliance, and of

seeing a fort built on Cape Serebrenoi. “We will have revenge,” they

said, “on the Persians for their robberies. We do not know how to

construct a fort; but when we make a general call to arms, we can bring

ten thousand men into the field, and beat the Persians. Only five years

ago we cut their Sardars to pieces near here, and carried away their

cattle.” It is clear that if Major Ponomarev was prone to be too sparing

of flattery, he did not scruple to betray to the Turcomans the ultimate

designs of his government upon its allies the Persians. The Turcomans

are agriculturists; they also possess large flocks and herds, and, from

their proximity to the Persian frontier, have attained some little

degree of civilisation. They dress like Persians, and have adopted many

of their manners and customs; but they are easily impressed by superior

intelligence and civilisation, and Mouraviev anticipates no obstacles,

so far as they are concerned, to the movements of troops. The route to

Khiva is tolerably well supplied with pasture and water for the first

few days after leaving Krasnavodsk; but then the same terrible desert

must be crossed that in every direction divides Khiva from Russia, and

for five or six days water is unprocurable. The nature of the country is

similar to that already described; but this is the shortest of the four

routes, Mouraviev having accomplished it in seventeen days. At

Krasnavodsk, as at Alexandrofski, the Russians have built a fort; thus

having a starting-point for each of the routes to Khiva. The ostensible

motive for building the two forts on the Caspian, was to protect the

Russian fishermen from their Turcoman allies, who occasionally sell them

at Khiva as slaves.

So long, indeed, as stray Russians continue to be kidnapped by the

frontier tribes, will the Czar have a fair excuse for waging war, not

only with those tribes themselves, but with the nations to whom his

subjects are sold as slaves. He will continue desirous to extend the

frontier of his empire, simply because he cannot set at liberty these

unfortunates without doing so. Such was the object of Peroffsky’s

expedition; the origin of which, as told to Abbott by the Khan of Khiva,

is illustrative of what we have been saying. It was to the following

effect: During the war between Khiva and Boukhara, about thirty years

ago, a rich caravan, escorted by two hundred infantry and two guns, was

sent by Russia to the latter state. To reach its destination, however,

it was compelled to pass through part of Khiva, or Khaurism, as the

whole country is called. The Khan, fearing that so desirable an

acquisition might be used by his enemy against him, politely intimated

to the Russian commander his objection to the further advance of the

caravan. In spite of this prohibition, the latter attempted to force a

passage. Khivan troops were sent to oppose him in the Kisil Koum, where

they inflicted serious loss, compelling the troops to retreat to the

Russian frontier, and plundered the caravan. Fifteen years afterwards

the Russians built the fort of Alexandrofski, in what was really Khivan

territory, and soon after seized some Khivan caravans trading in Russia,

and retained five hundred and fifty merchants as prisoners. Upon her

ambassador being sent to demand their release, the Khan was informed

that he must first release all the Russian slaves. As an earnest of his

intention to do so, he sent six to Russia, demanding an equal number of

Khivans. The Russians were retained, and the ambassador’s brother

imprisoned, but no Khivans were released. Upon this a third ambassador,

with a hundred and twenty captives, were surrendered, but no answer was

returned. “I therefore,” said the Khan, “perceived that Russia was only

playing upon my credulity. It is six months since the return of my last

ambassador.” At this very time there was an intrenched camp on the Emba,

and an advanced post half-way between that river and the Sea of Aral. As

we before remarked, the snows, and not the Khivans, rendered that

expedition fruitless; and further attempts of a similar nature were put

a stop to by the gallant exploit of Sir Richmond Shakespeare, who

released nearly five hundred Russian slaves in Khiva, and conveyed them

safely to St Petersburg.

The slave traffic, however, still continues; and in 1842 Danielevsky was

sent to Khiva, upon the mission to which we have already alluded,

charged with obtaining the release of the captives then in slavery, and

securing the inviolability of caravans to Boukhara, together with

certain privileges for merchants trading in Khiva. We have no

information as to the secret objects of the expedition, or how far it

may have been successful; but this is certain, that Russia does not need

an excuse for invading Khiva, and has been paving the way for an

occupation for many years. We have not space now to describe the

condition of this country, the most savage of all the states of Central

Asia; but, from the description of English as well as Russian

travellers, it cannot be expected to offer any very serious resistance

to Russian arms. The army is estimated by Abbott at one hundred and

eight thousand men. It consists entirely of cavalry, and is furnished by

the settled population at the rate of one horseman for fifty chains of

land, and by nomades at the rate of one horseman for four families. The

Oozbegs are the bravest of these, and compose nearly half the army;

still, the encounters they have already had with the Russians prove that

they are no match for disciplined troops; and if ten thousand men, in

good condition, were landed upon the southern shores of the Sea of Aral,

the independence of Khiva would be gone. It remains to be proved whether

this is a possibility. The difficulties of marching an army across the

Great Borzouk to the embouchure of the Syr have been already noticed,

and do not seem altogether insurmountable. The Oxus is too shallow to

allow of their being conveyed up its stream, and they would be compelled

to disembark in the face of a whole population prepared to receive them.

Mouraviev calculates upon a rising among the slaves in the event of any

such invasion. But the mode which Russia would most probably employ to

possess herself of Khiva, would be by exciting Persia or Boukhara to

hostilities with that state, and then offering it her protection. Spring

or autumn are the only seasons of the year at which the expedition could

expect to make a successful traject of the steppes. Khiva, though a

small state, is capable of being made a productive acquisition. Its

annual revenue amounts to about £300,000. At present it furnishes

scarcely any articles of export, and carries on a comparatively small

trade with Russia. Boukhara is the great Eastern emporium; but the

traffic is much intercepted by Turcoman banditti, who are subjects of

Khiva. The aspect of Khiva, after a journey over the steppe, which in

every direction surrounds it, is most inviting. Canals intersect the

country, forming little islands, upon which castellated houses are

situated; tropical produce is abundant and luxuriant; vegetation affords

a grateful relief to the eye of the weary traveller. The most fertile

portion is about two hundred miles long by sixty broad. The entire

population amounts to 2,500,000. In winter the cold is severe; and

though in the latitude of Rome, the Oxus is frozen over.

Having thus attempted to relate the mode by which Russia has extended

her influence over those tribes whose furthest wanderings form the

uncertain boundary which separates her subjects from the nomades of

Khiva, and having described the nature of the country, and of the

inhabitants through which a Russian army invading that state would be

compelled to march, it is time to consider shortly what the object of

such a campaign would be, and what its probable results. It is evident

that, of all European nations we alone could be directly interested in

such a movement on the part of Russia; but it is equally plain that,

even should a Muscovite army succeed in occupying Khiva, its farther

advance through Caubul and the Hindoo Khoosh is an utter impossibility.

Bjornstjerna, the Swedish general, in his work on the East Indies, says

it will require four campaigns before a Russian army could possibly

arrive at the Indies by this route; and, indeed, the slightest

acquaintance with the nature of the country to be traversed, will be

sufficient to justify our discarding as absurd the notion of a Russian

army invading India from Orenburgh and Khiva. But this consideration

does not divest of their importance the designs of Russia upon Khiva,

but should rather lead us to discover what those motives really are

which induce her to entertain them at all; and a due appreciation of the

present position of Russia in the East will quickly enable us to

perceive why, while repelling her aggressions in the West, we should not

neglect to watch her movements in that part of the world in which our

own interests are more nearly affected. The tendency of those movements

has not been altogether concealed. Mouraviev says, unreservedly—“Masters

of Khiva, many other states would be under our rule. The possession of

it would shake to the foundation the enormous commercial superiority of

those who now rule the sea.” It is, therefore, not the invasion of India

which is anticipated, but the acquirement of that influence over the

neighbouring states which would have the effect of undermining the power

of Great Britain in the East. The states here alluded to as bordering

upon Khiva, are Boukhara, Caubul, and Persia. Supposing Russia to be at

Khiva, so long at least as she was confined to that remote and

inaccessible country, the possibility of her alliance with Boukhara and

Caubul against England can scarcely be entertained. The barbarian rulers

of these distant people are far too suspicious of so powerful a

neighbour, and too ignorant of the relative power of European states, to

join in a war between two great Christian empires, the objects of which

they would not understand, and which they would conceive might probably

lead to the extinction of Mahomedanism. While allowing that the conquest

of Boukhara is possible, its acquisition would not facilitate the

designs of Russia against India, for the intercourse between the two

countries is unimportant, and the mountain ranges by which they are

separated are almost impassable. The deserts which intervene between

Khiva and Caubul, the mountainous nature of this latter state, and the

bravery of its inhabitants, would render its conquest by a Russian army

out of the question, as our own experience may testify. Persia, then, is

the only state which would really be placed in imminent peril by the

occupation of Khiva by the Russians, and it is the only state whose

independence is of vital importance to our Eastern interests. “The

independence of Persia,” writes the author of the pamphlet we have

already quoted, “is the only apparent obstacle to a position by Russia

which would enable her to destroy in Asia the power of the Sultan,

already shaken in Europe; to annihilate our commerce in Central Asia; to

force us to diminish our revenues, and largely to augment our

expenditure in India, where our finances are even now embarrassed; to

disturb the whole system of government in that country during peace; to

threaten it with invasion in war; and to oppose to our maritime and

commercial superiority her power to shake our empire in the East.” If,

then, we admit the view, here so ably expressed, to be correct, it only

remains for us to consider how the taking of Khiva would be instrumental

towards the subversion of Persian independence, and how we may best take

advantage of the existing state of our relations with Russia, so as to

relieve ourselves for ever from the anxiety arising from this source.

The frontier of Khiva is conterminous with that of Persia from Herat to

Astrabad, for a distance of four hundred miles. If Khiva became a

Russian province, the whole northern frontier of Persia, from its most

easterly to its most westerly point, from Boukhara to Turkey, would form

the southern boundary of the Russian empire. Already has the Czar

despoiled Persia of territory equal in extent to the British Islands,

but hitherto he has been able to threaten her upon the western shores of

the Caspian alone. It was the object of Mouraviev’s mission to

Turcomania to induce the Turcomans to create a diversion upon the

opposite coast, and, crossing the Attruck, to invade the province of

Astrabad. That project would be rendered still more feasible by the

possession of Khiva, whose influence extends more or less over the whole

of Turcomania. The most bitter enmity has ever existed between these

tribes and the Persians, fostered by the fanaticism consequent upon

their profession of opposite Mahomedan creeds, and they would gladly

seize this opportunity of avenging themselves on a power which has

incessantly persecuted them, while even Caubul might be incited to join

in a crusade against the heretical Sheas. The long-coveted provinces of

Ghilan, Mazenderan, and Astrabad alone separate the Transcaucasian

provinces of Russia from Turcomania and Khiva. Their ports are at the

mercy of the Russian fleet on the Caspian; and if, while the Turks are

being conquered at the one end of the frontier, the Khivans are being

subjugated at the other, Persia must, in her turn, submit to the

omnipotent power from the north, and her most fertile provinces will be

added to the catalogue of “All the Russias.”

But if, on the other hand, by a prompt conveyance of troops to the seat

of war in Georgia, and a strict blockade of the eastern shores of the

Black Sea, we are able, in conjunction with the Ottoman and Circassian

armies, to drive out the Russian forces at present occupying them, we

shall hear no more rumours of a Russian army being at Khiva. A Russian

army in Khiva, unsupported by an army in Armenia, would find itself in a

particularly useless position; and, even in connection with the Affghans

and Turcomans, could hope to gain no advantage over a power who, now

that the tide of Russian aggression had been stayed, no longer believed

in Russian omnipotence, as it saw with amazement that the allied powers

of Europe had been able to maintain the tottering independence of

plundered and enfeebled Turkey.

The conclusion, then, to which our consideration of the present state of

the acquired provinces in Asia has brought us, seems to be, that they

have been acquired only as a necessary prelude to the annexation of

another and more important country;—that, notwithstanding the judicious

treatment of the Kirghiz, their internal condition is by no means

satisfactory, while the natural obstacles which their country presents

to the transport of troops are almost insurmountable;—that even if the

conquest of Khiva were achieved, it would be dangerous only to the

British possessions in the East indirectly, or through the influence

thus exercised upon Persia;—that this influence can only exist so long

as the Russian arms in Armenia are successful;—that, in fact, the

extension of the frontier line of Russia to the east of the Caspian must

be regulated entirely by its progress to the west of that sea;—and that

it is in the power of this country to check that progress at once, and

thus nip in the bud her long-cherished designs upon Persia, and her

deeply-laid schemes for the appropriation of those sources of wealth and

power in the East, which have so materially contributed to raise this

country to her present high position among European nations.

DEATH OF PROFESSOR WILSON.

It is one of the painful duties which devolve on those connected with a

work like the present, to be called on from time to time to commemorate

the removal from this earthly scene, of those by whose original and

inventive minds its peculiar character was impressed, or to whose genius

and labours in after life it owed its continued influence and

reputation. More than once that melancholy task has been ours, for Death

has made more than his usual gaps in the ranks of those who were

associated with the rise of this Magazine and its early success. But the

greatest and most distinguished of that gifted band, whose name has been

identified with it from first to last, had till now been

spared;—withdrawn, indeed, for some time from those circles which he had

enlightened and adorned—and already surrounded by some shadow of the

coming night, but still surviving among us as a link connecting the

present and the past, and forming the centre of a thousand sympathising

and reverential associations. He also has at last been gathered to his

fellows. Professor Wilson expired at his house in Gloucester Place on

the morning of the 3d April 1854. Born in May 1785, he was thus in his

sixty-ninth year when he died;—not prematurely taken, it may be said,

for he had nearly touched the period which is proverbially allotted as

the measure of human life, yet passing from among us long before he had

attained that advanced old age, which, when united with health, wisdom,

and worth, seems to afford one of the happiest conditions of existence,

and of which, in his case, the vigour and elasticity both of his mental

and bodily frame, had seemed to human calculation to promise the

attainment. It is consolatory to think that his period of seclusion and

sickness passed in tranquillity both of mind and body; not perhaps

painless, yet without acute or prolonged suffering;—the bodily energies

waning gently, like the twilight, and the mind, though clear, partaking

of that growing languor which had crept over the frame with which it was

associated. As a proof of how long his mental vigour and capacity of

exertion survived the effects of physical decline, it may be mentioned

that two of the papers entitled “Dies Boreales,” the last of a fine

series on Milton’s _Paradise Lost_, were written by him in August and

September 1852, some months after the occurrence of that calamity by

which his strong frame had been stricken down; papers written with his

usual fine perception and impressive diction, but in a hand so

tremulous, so feeble and indistinct, as to prove the strong effort of

will by which alone such a task could have been accomplished. These were

the last papers he ever wrote: they want, as is evident enough, the

dazzling splendour of his earlier writings: they do not stir the heart

like the trumpet tones of his prime, but they breathe a tone of sober

grandeur and settled conviction; and these subdued and earnest words,

now that we know them to have been his last, sink into the heart, like

the parting accents of a friend, with a melancholy charm.

We leave to others, and in another form, the task of delineating the

character of Professor Wilson as a poet, a novelist, a philosopher, and

a critic: our more limited object is to speak of him only in connection

with this Magazine, of which he was so long the animating spirit; to

recall and arrest for a moment the lineaments of the man as he first

appeared to us—as we were familiar with him in after life—and to embody

in a few words our sense of what he has done for literature and for

society, through the pages of that publication, in which, unless we

greatly err, posterity will recognise the richest outpourings of his

genius, and in which may be traced all the moods of his changing

mind—from the first wild and sparkling effusions of youth, through the

more matured creations of his manhood, down to that period when even

genius takes a sober colouring from the troubles of life, and all those

vivid and truthful pictures of the world around us begin unconsciously

to be imbued and solemnised by the prospects of another.

When we first saw Professor Wilson—now more than three-and-thirty years

ago—no more remarkable person could have attracted attention. Physically

and mentally he was the embodied type of energy, power, and

self-reliance. The tall and elastic frame, the massive head that crowned

it, the waving hair, the finely-cut features, the eye flashing with

every variety of emotion, the pure and eloquent blood which spoke in the

cheek, the stately lion-like port of the man,—all announced, at the

first glance, one of Nature’s nobles. And to the outward presence

corresponded the mind within; for rarely have qualities so varied been

blended in such marvellous and harmonious union. The culture of English

scholarship had softened the more rugged features of his Scottish

education. The knowledge of life, and sympathy with all its forms, from

the highest to the lowest, had steadied the views and corrected the

sentimental vagueness of the poetical temperament: a strong and

practical sagacity pervaded, and gave reality to, all the creations of

his imagination. Extensive and excursive reading—at least in English

literature and the classics—combined with a singular accuracy and

minuteness of natural observation, had stored his mind with facts of

every kind, and stamped the results upon an iron memory. Nature and

early training had so balanced his faculties that all themes seemed to

come alike to his hand: the driest, provided only it bore upon the

actual concerns of life, had nothing repulsive for him: he could

expatiate in the field of the mournful as if it were his habitual

element, and turn to the sportive and the fantastic, as if he had been

all his life a denizen of the court of Comus. The qualities of the heart

partook of this expansive and universal character. Affections as tender

as they were impetuous, checked and softened the impulses of a fiery

temper and vehement will, and infused a pathetic and relenting spirit

into strains of invective that were deviating into harshness. That he

should have been without warm dislikings, as well as warm attachments,

would imply an impossibility. But from everything petty or rancorous he

was absolutely free. Most justly was entitled to say of himself, that he

never knew envy except as he had studied it in others. His opposition,

if it was uncompromising, was always open and manly: to the great or

good qualities of his opponent he generally did justice from the

first—always in the end; and not a few of those who in early life had

regarded him merely as the headlong leader of a partisan warfare, both

in literature and politics, came to learn their mistake, to reverence in

him the high-toned and impartial critic, and to esteem the warm-hearted

and generous man.

His conversation and his public speaking had in them a charm to which no

other term is applicable but that of fascination, and which, in the

zenith of his powers, we never met with any one able to resist. While

his glittering eye held the spectators captive, and the music of the

ever-varying voice, modulating up and down with the changing character

of the theme, fell on the ear, and a flood of imagery invested the

subject with every conceivable attribute of the touching, the playful,

or the picturesque, the effect was electric, indescribable: it

imprisoned the minds of the auditors; they seemed to fear that the sound

would cease—they held their breath as if under the influence of a spell.

Thus accomplished by nature and education, did Professor Wilson apply

himself to his self-imposed task in this Magazine—that of imparting to

periodical literature in general, and to literary criticism in

particular, a new body and a new life; of pulling down the old

conventional walls within which they had been confined, and of investing

criticism itself with something of the creative and poetic character of

the great works of imagination to which it was to be applied.

And in what a noble and true-hearted spirit was that task accomplished.

Much had no doubt been done within the century to enlarge the basis of

our critical views, to exchange the criticism of particulars for that of

generals, to contemplate and decide according to the essence rather than

the form. But we hesitate not to say, that practically the criticism of

the day was sectarian and political: class criticism, not catholic. It

denied or coldly accorded merit to those beyond the pale of the

reviewer’s own opinions; it was too apt to assume in all cases an air of

condescending superiority; and it was in its form inflexible, demurely

decorous, and solemn, banishing from its sphere all that wide field of

illustration afforded by the homely and the ludicrous, from the

judicious contrast and opposition of which so much of added interest and

novelty of view might fairly be derived. These wants the criticisms of

Professor Wilson for the first time effectually supplied. Reverential in

all cases where reverence was justly due, his keen sense of the

ludicrous made him at the same time unsparing of ridicule, when, either

in its moral or artistic aspect, the subject of the criticism required

and justified the application of such a weapon. Strong as might be his

party opinions, they faded out of view whenever he had to deal with any

of the greater questions of literature or the pretensions of its genuine

candidates; while to how many of the humblest aspirants for fame did his

cordial and unstinted praise, blended with just advice and chastened

censure, speak hope and comfort amidst discouragement and poverty and

pain! From every nook of nature, from every mood of mind, he drew his

allusions and illustrations, ever-shifting, iridescent:—under his

guidance, humour and feeling, long separated, walked hand in hand; and

even the gravest minds readily reconciled themselves to his gay and

fanciful embroideries on the web of life, because they felt that none

knew better than he that its tissue was, after all, of a sombre

hue;—because every page of these compositions, quaint and startling as

they were, impressed them with the assurance that wherever the shafts of

his ridicule might light, the nobler qualities of the soul itself—love,

honour, duty, religion, and all the charities of life—were safe as in a

sanctuary from their intrusion.

It would be idle, as it would be endless, to refer to particular

examples in dealing with the criticisms of Professor Wilson. But we

hesitate not to say, humbly, but with the conviction of its truth, that

his contributions to this Magazine contain an amount of original and

suggestive criticism, unparalleled in any publication to which the

present time has given birth. From the _Noctes_ alone what an armoury of

bright and polished thought might be supplied! In his other papers, what

a new aspect is given to old themes! The gentle and devout spirit of

Spenser seems never before to have met with a congenial exponent. The

infinite depths of Shakespeare’s mind are made to reveal new treasures.

Milton’s stately fabric appears to expand its proportions, and to grow,

at once classic and colossal, under his hand. Dryden’s long-resounding

march here meets with a spirit-stirring accompaniment; and he who

“stooped to truth, and moralised his song,” finds a defender, who can

appreciate the sterling vigour and condensation of his thoughts, and the

lucid felicities of their expression. Towards the few genuine poets who

illumined the twilight of the last century—towards those who gilded the

morning of the new—towards Scott, and Byron, and Coleridge, and

Wordsworth—towards the lesser stars revolving within the orb of those

greater luminaries—how just, how discriminating have been his

acknowledgments! And in proof that these judgments, all glowing and

impassioned as they seem, were yet founded on the truest appreciation of

the principles of art, we would ask (and we do so with some confidence),

in how few instances has the public shown any disposition to reverse the

sentence which a deep poetical insight had dictated, and a lofty sense

of duty had kept so impartial and so pure!

Nor is it to the mere professed criticism of literature that these

observations are applicable. The same peculiarities and the same

originality pervaded his numerous and varied essays, where he came more

palpably into that field which Addison and Johnson and Goldsmith had

trod before him. The humblest and most unpromising topics were on system

made the vehicles of important truths; deep reflections “rose like an

exhalation” out of hints thrown out as if in a spirit of dalliance; but

the result was to exhibit man and his nature in many a new light, and to

enforce reflection on many a vital question, where, under a more formal

treatment of the subject, it would unquestionably have been evaded.

Never, perhaps, was the power and value of the principle of surprise

more aptly illustrated than in these essays, where we are suddenly

withdrawn from some vulgar and prosaic foreground; led off—blindfold, it

may be, and through brake and briar—yet, as we feel, by no unfriendly

hand, till, when the journey ends, and the mask drops, we find ourselves

translated to some mysterious mountain height, with the ocean of this

life spread beneath our feet, and around us “the breath of heaven fresh

blowing.”

This, we feel, is no fit place for entering on the social or moral

qualities of Professor Wilson. “Something we might have said, but to

what end?” The depth and tenderness of his domestic affections are not

themes for such discussion. His charities, his generosity, liberal and

unfailing as they were, we would leave in that obscurity to which it was

his own wish they should be consigned. His appreciation of all worth,

however humble; his readiness to assist struggling merit; his utter

absence of all affectation of superiority in himself; his toleration for

the faults or presumption of others; his reluctance consciously to

inflict pain on any one—a feeling which grew on him, as it grows on all

good men, with advancing years; are they not written on the memories of

all who were the objects of his aid or his forbearance? The charms of

his social intercourse, who is likely to forget, whether first

experienced “in life’s morning march, when his spirit was young,” or

when added years and experience had pruned the luxuriance and softened

the asperities of youth, but left all the bright and genial qualities of

the mind undimmed, and the sympathies of the soul at once deepened and

diffused? To those who had the privilege of enjoying his intimate

acquaintance, as familiar friends or fellow-labourers in the same

seed-field; to the many who have been indebted to him for that which he

never failed to afford—wise and considerate counsel; to the thousands

whom he has formed, guided, encouraged, admonished, or corrected, the

thought of Professor Wilson will be among those recollections which they

would most wish to arrest—those visions which, when they begin to fade,

they would be most anxious to recall.

As a proof how completely he was superior to any feeling of party where

a question of literature and genius was involved, and how his kindly

disposition could urge him to exertion, even under the pressure of

disease, we may mention, that the last occasion on which he can be said

to have appeared in public, was when he left his brother’s house, and,

supported by a friendly arm, came up to record his vote for a political

opponent, Mr Macaulay. The last occasion on which he left his own

threshold, was when he drove out to congratulate a friend on an event,

on which he believed his happiness in life was likely to depend.

So lived, so died Professor Wilson—in the union of his varied mental

gifts, in the attractive and endearing qualities of his character, one

of the most remarkable men whom Scotland, in the present or any other

century, has produced. In our remarks we have confined ourselves to his

services to this Magazine, and through that to literature. We have not

referred to his other productions, nor to his academical prelections. If

the value of the latter were to be estimated by the effect which they

produced in stimulating the minds and awakening the interest of his

auditory, they would be entitled to a high rank; but as yet there exist

no materials from which a deliberate judgment as to their merits can be

formed. In other respects, opinion has given the preference to his prose

over his poetry, and to his essays over his narrative fictions. The

judgment has been so general that it is probably just. In poetry, in

prose fiction, he seems overmatched by other men: in the field of the

discursive essay, with its “numerous prose,” he is felt to be unique and

unapproachable—without a prototype, and in all probability without a

successor.

We are aware that in what we have said we have uttered nothing new; that

the marking lines of Professor Wilson’s literary character and

compositions have been often drawn before; that his characteristics as a

man have been indicated by worthier hands. But our object now is, not to

say what is new, but to record what is true—true, as it presents itself

to us, and true, as we should wish it to be for other times. The public

has already pronounced its judgment, and with sufficient approach to

unanimity, on Professor Wilson’s genius; it has formed and expressed its

estimate of him as a man: in both cases we are content to accept the

verdict as it stands; for in both we think it generous as well as

just—we ask only to be allowed to register it in our pages.

_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._

Footnote 1:

Else why quote that gentleman’s evidence in full?—See Report, p. 183.

Footnote 2:

See his evidence appended to Hebdomadal Committee’s Report, p. 74.

Footnote 3:

Evidence, p. 187.

Footnote 4:

See Recommendation 13.

Footnote 5:

Hebdomadal Report, p. 11.

Footnote 6:

_Blackwood’s Magazine_, Nov. 1853, p. 584.

Footnote 7:

“A body of men as accomplished and as industrious [as the professors],

and to whom he would wish to tender his most earnest feelings of

gratitude and respect—he referred to the private tutors of the

University—for he could not help hoping that some from among that body

would be chosen to assist in the government of Oxford.”—Speech on the

second reading, April 2.

Footnote 8:

_Blackwood’s Magazine_, December 1853, p. 697.

Footnote 9:

Hebdomadal Report—Mr Gordon’s Evidence, p. 202.

Footnote 10:

Suggestions, &c., p. 81.

Footnote 11:

_Letter to Endemus_, &c., p. 15.

Footnote 12:

Hebdomadal Report, p. 175, (Evid.)

Footnote 13:

A recent writer in the _Times_ professes great concern at the possible

danger that even the proposed Hebdomadal Council may not extinguish

the power of the Heads sufficiently. Suppose, says this far-sighted

gentleman, in addition to the eight Heads of Houses who _must_ have

seats, Convocation should choose to elect some Heads who are also

Professors, to represent that body, and some also to represent the

members of Convocation. We can only say that we should be very glad to

see our old rulers elected by the popular voice into the seats from

which they are proposed to be so summarily ejected.

Footnote 14:

See Lord Palmerston’s Letter to the Chancellor—Parl. Corresp., p. 95.

Footnote 15:

Hebdomadal Report—Evidence, p. 196.

Footnote 16:

_Edinburgh Review_, Jan. 1854, p. 189.

Footnote 17:

_Letter to Warden of Wadham_, p. 8.

Footnote 18:

Hebdomadal Report—Evidence, p. 81.

Footnote 19:

_Tour in Wales_, ii. 306.

Footnote 20:

ROY’S _Military Antiquities_, p. 206.

Footnote 21:

BRUCE _on the Roman Wall_, p. 53.

Footnote 22:

History of the English Army ii. 308.

Footnote 23:

_Firmilian; or, The Student of Badajoz: a Tragedy._ By T. PERCY JONES.

_Printed for private circulation._

Footnote 24:

Pentelicus overhangs the south side of the plain of Marathon,

separating it from the great Attic plain. Those who have seen the

beautiful Bay of Brodick, in the Island of Arran, have seen Marathon

on a small scale, except that Goat Fell, which represents Pentelicus,

is on the north. On the south, or Athenian side, this famous mountain

is sufficiently bare, but towards Marathon it is richly wooded; and

the direct road from the village of Vrana to the valley of the

Cephissus, over the northwest shoulder of the mountain, is one of the

wildest and most picturesque passes in Greece.

Footnote 25:

PAN played a somewhat prominent part in the great Persian

war.—(HERODOTUS, I. 105.) He had a famous cave near Marathon (PAUSAN.,

I. 32), which archæologists have idly endeavoured to identify.

Footnote 26:

Darius was led by Hippias, who was familiar with this approach, to

Attica, having come this way with his father, Pisistratus, when that

tyrant established himself in the sovereignty of Attica for the last

time.

Footnote 27:

Hercules was the patron-saint, to use modern language, of Marathon;

and, where the Athenians conquered, Theseus could not be absent. These

two heroes, therefore, were represented in the picture of the battle

of Marathon in the painted Stoa, (PAUSAN., I. 15). The fountain of

Macaria, the daughter of Hercules and Deianeira, is mentioned by

Pausanias, (I. c. 32), as being on the field of Marathon; and sure

enough there is a well on the road from Marathon to Rhamnus, near the

north end of the plain, which Mr Finlay is willing to baptise with the

name of the old classical nymph.

Footnote 28:

There are two extensive marshes, mostly overgrown with great reeds,

one at each end of the field. The Persians, of course, were driven

back into the marsh at the north end. This was represented in the

painting on the Stoa.

Footnote 29:

The famous mound in the middle of the battle-field, mentioned by

Pausanias, and described by all modern travellers.

Footnote 30:

Madame IDA PFEIFFER’S _Visit to Iceland_, p. 32.

Footnote 31:

_Russian Shores of the Black Sea_, by L. OLIPHANT, p. 335.

Footnote 32:

_A Visit to Europe in 1851_, vol. ii. p. 317. By Professor BENJAMIN

SILLIMAN. New York: Putnam, 1854.

Footnote 33:

IDA PFEIFFER’S _Visit to Iceland_, p. 40.

Footnote 34:

_The Initials_, by the Baroness TAUTPHŒUS, i. 205.

Footnote 35:

Translation of a Chinese song.

Footnote 36:

_The Progress and Present Position of Russia in the East: A Historical

Summary._ London: Murray, 1854.

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539 forgets herself so far as box forgets herself so far as to box

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560 blame they didua get their blame they didna get their

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605 that ever merged from barbarism that ever emerged from barbarism

620 of land is be encouraged in of land is to be encouraged in

every every

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