Sayyid Mozaffar ud-Dīn Khān, who succeeded this monster of iniquity, had attained the mature age of thirty-eight on his death. He was the son of a Persian slave-girl, and at the age of fourteen was appointed governor of Karshī, the Dauphinée of modern Bokhārā.[515] That he lived to reign in his turn was due to his extreme circumspection, for he was swayed by the same vices as his father had been. His first care was to regain the confidence of the priestly caste, which had been alienated by the insane excesses of Nasrullah. Then, inspired by those dreams of universal conquest which had been the curse of his dynasty, he turned his attention to Shahrisabz, which continued in a state of revolt. Undeterred by his failure to reduce the stubborn mountaineers to subjection, he next attacked Kokand. That Khānate had fallen into the hands of Khudā Yār, a grandson of the murdered Mohammad `Alī, who had been brought up under Nasrullah’s eye in that gilded sty, the Bokhāran Court. He attained power at a period pregnant with danger to his country. The lower reaches of the Sir Darya were enclosed in the coil of the Russian advance. In 1853 the fortress of Ak-Mechet had fallen, and eleven years later the Eagle waved over Turkestān and Chimkent.[516] The onward movement was checked in 1864 by the failure of an assault on Tashkent; but Khudā Yār was foiled in his turn in a like attempt on Turkestān, and retreated to his capital only to find that the warlike Kipchāks,[517] a tribe who, then as now, were the backbone of the population, had set up a younger brother named Mollā Khān in his stead. Khudā Yār fled to Bokhārā and implored the Amīr to aid him to regain the throne. Mozaffar ud-Dīn saw in these events an excuse for extending his own authority up to the frontier of China. As a preliminary measure, he had Mollā Khān assassinated, and, marching on Kokand, reinstated Khudā Yār. The Kipchāks, however, were far from approving his choice. They rose in rebellion, and, after a protracted struggle with the Bokhāran forces, they succeeded in wresting the eastern half of the Khānate from Mozaffar ud-Dīn’s protégé.[518] But their strength was sapped by the war raging on the northern frontier, and their trusted leader was slain by the Russians at Tashkent. Thus when in 1865 the Bokhāran Amīr invaded Kokand, in order to repress their insolence, he found the task an easy one. Khudā Yār was replaced on his tottering throne, and, had Mozaffar ud-Dīn possessed a trace of political foresight, he might have united the forces of Central Asia against the common danger. But his lust for conquest was increased by his cheaply won successes in Kokand, and, spurred to his ruin by a fanatical priesthood, he flung the gauntlet of defiance in the teeth of Russia. Though General Chernaieff had made himself master of Tashkent, and had Kokand at his mercy, he received a haughty summons to evacuate his conquests, accompanied by a threat of a Holy War.[519] His reply was couched in language equally peremptory, and a struggle began which closed in the deep humiliation of the proud Amīr.
It remains for us to trace the origin of a Power which was destined to play a part of the first importance in the history of Central Asia, and to repeat the conquests of Chingiz and Tīmūr.
PART II
RUSSIA IN CENTRAL ASIA
CHAPTER I
The Making of Russia
During the long dark centuries whose annals we have endeavoured to reconstruct, the tide of conquest ran westwards. It was checked at times by the might of civilisation or fanaticism, but its flow was tolerably steady and quite beyond control. Had it not been for the evolution of a still greater force on her eastern borders, the whole of Europe would have been enveloped in the coils of a Mongolian invasion. The world was saved from this calamity by the unconscious agency of Russia. It remains to trace succinctly the history of her rise, and to show how she combated the Yellow Terror, and, by a reflex action, carried the banner of European civilisation eastwards.
Long ages before the Christian era the vast plains of Eastern Europe were invaded by an Aryan race called the Veneti by Ptolemy.[520] In the fourth century we find them struggling for existence with the Goths on the plains watered by the Vistula.[521] They afterwards split into three branches—the Veneti proper, afterwards known as the Wends, the Antes, and Slavi. The first-named pitched their tents in north-eastern Europe, and have left indelible traces in the Baltic provinces of Prussia.[522] The second spread over the plain between the Dnieper and Dniester; while the Slavs[523] occupied the land between the latter river and the Vistula. Their progress was impeded for a while by contests with the Huns, but the overthrow of their fierce foes which followed the death of Attila gave full scope to their expansion. They crossed the Danube and occupied the rich country between the Adriatic and the Black Sea; then, spreading northwards, they took possession of the lake region of Pskov and Novogorod. These movements ceased in the seventh century, the close of which saw the Slavs firmly established in European Russia, Illyria, and Bulgaria. They were employed in agriculture and stock-raising, and their characteristics appear to have been much the same as those observed at the present day in the rural populations of Eastern Europe. Ancient writers agree in depicting them as being hospitable and cheerful, firmly attached to ancient customs, courageous, and fighting only in self-defence. In point of culture the Slavs of a thousand years ago failed to reach the low standard attained by their contemporaries of the West; for they were sparsely scattered over vast areas and plunged in continual warfare with aggressive neighbours. Society was organised on a patriarchal basis. The soil was held in common by the tribe or “land,” whose affairs were discussed and whose chiefs were elected at a general gathering of the members. The religion of the Slavs betrayed its Eastern origin. The supreme deity was called Bog, his wife Siwa; but there were good spirits (belbog) to be worshipped and evil ones (chernebog) to be propitiated, and every village had its patron divinity.[524]
It is possible to carry too far the theory on which Mr. Buckle insisted so strongly—that the destinies of a race are moulded by their physical environment; but its general truth is demonstrated by the history of Russia. The European dominions of the Tsar are an unbroken plain. They contain no mountain fastnesses serving as a refuge for inferior races, and were thus fit arenas for a struggle for existence in which the most vigorous stem of the human family was sure to survive and to expand. And then, Russia lay on the highway of commerce between the East and West. The silks, spices, and sugar of China traversed her plains on their passage to mediæval cities, and the growth of local trade was fostered by the 35,000 miles of navigable river which the empire possesses. To this cause is due the accretion of great urban centres, which played as great a part in Muscovite history as they did in that of Western Europe. These cities were fortified to serve as rendezvous for the surrounding population in time of stress. Their government was strictly democratic; affairs being directed by a general assembly of the citizens, which elected a mayor, a commander of their trained bands, and, later, a bishop. Traders and merchants, who were the backbone of the urban population, were divided into self-governing guilds; and the city, not the individual, sent out its fleets and caravans and colonised distant regions. Each town became a nucleus of a territory whose peasant-inhabitants rendered the City Fathers the allegiance formerly paid to the tribe.
With the decay of the tribal conception came radical modifications in the tenure of land. Individualism slowly triumphed over socialism; a class of agriculturists sprang up, who long remained free yeomen. But prisoners of war were reduced to slavery, and freemen who continued in service for more than a year encountered a similar fate. Hence the origin of a great body of serfs, tied down to the soil and acknowledging the mastership of their wealthier brethren. Such was the Russian township in its earlier stages of growth. It was the nidus of a self-governing republic, impelled to expand and conquer by the growth of population which follows increased material prosperity, but powerless to defend itself against foreign aggression. The consciousness of this defect led the citizens to invite soldiers of fortune to lead their militia and give organised means of repelling attack. These adventurers were styled princes (kniaz). They were called on to engage to rule according to custom and law. They were bound to keep a body of armed retainers, who were paid by a stipulated tribute.