Again, it is universally admitted even by the adversaries of our opinions that the Don country was occupied previously to the Tatar invasions by a nomade and warlike people, the Polovtzis, who, there is every reason to think, were no other than Slaves.[13]
It may well be conceived that the dissensions and continual wars between the numerous chieftains, among whom the Russian soil was formerly parceled out, must naturally have produced numerous emigrations; and these partial emigrations being too weak to act against the west, must of course have turned eastward towards those remote regions of the steppes where the fugitives might find freedom and independence. It would be difficult then to disprove that a Slavic people existed on the banks of the Don when the Tatars arrived; and that people was apparently the Polovtzis, an agglomeration of fugitives and malcontents, who, during the convulsions of the Russian empire, under Vladimir the Great's successors, seem to have laid the first foundations of the Cossack power in the steppes of the Sea of Azov and the Don.[14]
The name of the Polovtzis disappeared completely under the Tatar sway; but it would be illogical thence to infer that the people itself utterly perished, and did not share the destiny of the other Sclavonic tribes of Russia. We agree, therefore, with some historians in thinking that the Polovtzis merely exchanged their appellation for that of Cossacks, imposed on them by the Tatars, and made permanent by a servitude of more than three centuries. We have besides already remarked that the Tatars used among themselves to call all adventurers and vagabonds Cossacks: it is not, therefore, surprising that they should on their arrival in Russia, have given this designation to the nomade hordes of the Polovtzis. This historical version seems far more rational than the supposition that the Polovtzis completely disappeared, and were entirely supplanted by a Caucasian race, which had taken part in the expeditions of Batou Khan.
The traveller, who has studied the Cossacks and the mountaineers of the Caucasus, can never admit the doctrine that would make but one nation of these two. Our notions on this subject are corroborated in every point by physiological observations. In the first place, considerations founded on religion and language, are not so lightly to be rejected as Clarke and Lesur assert. The conversion of the Cossacks would not certainly have been passed over unnoticed in the history of the Lower Empire; the Byzantine writers would have been sure to record such a triumph of their creed; but they say not a word about it; and every one knows perfectly well in what manner Christianity was categorically introduced into Russia. Moreover, if the Cossacks had been nothing but Circassians at the beginning of the thirteenth century, it would be hard to account for their ready adoption of a foreign language and religion, at a time when that language and that religion were, if not proscribed, at least much discredited under the Tatar sway. The last Russian expeditions into the Caucasus, towards the sources of the Kouban, have, it is true, given birth to new historical ideas as to that part of Asia. Thus, there have been discovered two churches in a perfect state of preservation, the origin of which is evidently Genoese or Venetian, and we can scarcely fail to recognise in the Circassians some traces of Christianity in the profound respect they bear to the cross. But, on the other hand, nothing indicates that this people was ever Christian; on the contrary, every thing proves that its primitive religion, if its religious notions may be so called, has undergone no alteration. Those Christian edifices, too, which we have alluded to, belong to a later period than the inroads of the Tatar hordes, consequently they can only testify in favour of our views.