The Wolga is one of the largest rivers in the world. It rises in the Russian empire, and receiving a multitude of tributary streams, it winds a course of three thousand miles, and pours an immense volume into the Caspian sea. Through its whole course, it is said, there is not a cataract. It rolls majestically, with gentle current, through extensive, rich and beautiful plains, diffusing every where luxuriant vegetation and exhaustless abundance. Near the sea, it branches and forms a number of pleasant and beautiful islands.
On one of these we stood, and, for a moment, surveyed the romantic scenery. Near us was a Russian castle and garrison, and the island, which had been used as a military station since the reign of Peter the Great, was guarded by strong fortifications, and enriched with an infinite number of boats and vessels, and defended by ships of war and gallies.
I now looked through the glass, which threw me back six hundred years. How surprising was the change! One half of the island was a forest. The other half was occupied by a spacious camp, containing innumerable wheel carriages of singular forms. Before me lay a great army marshalled for parade. I was struck with their uncommon dress and armor; and presently more so, by a sight of their council chief, who occupied an elevated platform, and seemed at that moment engaged in deep consultation.
At the head three seats were raised above the rest, on which sat three personages of the greatest dignity. The central one, said my guide, is none other than Genghis Khan, and in him you behold your ancestor. He is now holding a council of war, and deliberating on an invasion of China. But you have little reason to boast of your descent from one who has destroyed fifty thousand cities. His tyranny and the perfidy of his queen have roused a conspiracy, which, though it will not destroy him, will imbitter his future life. Beneath a dark brow his fierce and jealous eye seemed to dart the fires of glory and valor into every surrounding breast. Yet he looked like one on whose heart the worm of care unceasingly preys, and who is inwardly consumed by the fires of ambition.
Leaving him, however, to his fate, my guide gave the signal of departure. We crossed the Caspian sea, and the Circassian mountains. The dominions of the ancient Medes and now of the Persians, passed beneath us. In a few moments we alighted on a hill which commanded a view of the fair and delectable vales of Sheeraz, the most celebrated province in Persia. Sublime conceptions struck my fancy as we were travelling the region of the clouds, when I saw stretched out on one side the vast ridges of Mount Taurus, and far distant on the other, the plains where Darius and Alexander fought. A sigh rose at the remembrance of the great cities and powerful empires which once flourished there.
Before me was the vale of Sheeraz, for many miles in extent. The surrounding mountains were covered with vines, and widely extended prospects of rural felicity in that happy region. Innumerable flocks and herds were scattered over the hills, the shepherds and shepherdesses looked gay, all nature was blooming, and the Persians, brave, polite, and elegant in every age, seemed the happiest people upon the face of the earth. The sun shone with peculiar smiles from the cloudless azure, and far remote the calm billows of the Persian Gulf, drew a silver line on the horizon.
On this hill, said my conductress, once dwelt your ancient fathers. At this she drew the glass to the twelfth circle, making from the Wolga a transit of 600, and from this of 1200 years. I looked eagerly through the prospective, and there arose before me a scene of unspeakable horror and desolation. An immense horde of barbarians was ravaging and destroying the whole country. Their faces flashed with fury. They were swift and fierce as tigers. The villages and hamlets, as far as could be seen were in flames; heaven was obscured by smoke; age, infancy, innocence, and beauty, were mingled in indiscriminate slaughter; and blood poured in all directions.
They rushed into a house which stood near me, dragged forth its inhabitants, and cut them in pieces. The parents and the children were mangled and slain together. A little infant only was left, and that, to all appearance, by accident. It was flung upon the ground, and lay wallowing in the blood of its parents, weeping at its fall, although insensible to its deplorable condition. Behold, said my guide, your ancient father. The existence of numerous generations depends on his preservation, and from him multitudes shall descend. Astonished at man’s inexplicable destiny, I gazed, admired, and wept.
At length a female barbarian came up. She was black, filthy, deformed, hideously savage, and resembled a harpy. She spied the weeping infant, and a sensation of humanity stole upon her heart. Kind nature, and compassion to man, has implanted those heavenly sensibilities in the rudest and most degenerate of her children. She took up the babe, and seemed to sooth it. She wiped away its tears and blood, laid it in her bosom and darted out of sight. The glass dropped from my hand, and I stood rivetted in silent astonishment.
That child, resumed my companion, is carried into the bosom of Scythia; there becomes first a robber, then a chieftain, afterward a sage. His descendants dwelt at times in India, in the islands, in Tonquin, in China, in Tartary; and a last issue, as you have seen, was the conqueror of Asia. O Providence! how unsearchable are thy ways! What beings of light, what fiends of darkness, are among thy children. O listen to the fervent aspirations of a worm, and if thine ear is not inexorable, smile on their destiny.