Petersburg, “we cannot avoid regarding the abyss which opens before us with terror, for it may well disorganise the economic and political condition of the empire. The English[620] have succeeded in convincing Asiatics that they have forced us to stop before Constantinople and abandon the Balkan peninsula. Thanks to their agents’ zeal, a version of the Treaty of Berlin, very disadvantageous to ourselves, has been spread throughout Asia. Great God, what sacrifices of blood and honour will this peace, so painful to Russian hearts, entail!” To this illustrious soldier the Tsar turned in his perplexity. A better choice could not have been made. Michael Dmitriavitch Skobeleff was, at this epoch, in the prime of life,[621] and at the zenith of his preternatural activity. His military career had begun at the age of twenty, and, two years later, he won his spurs during the Polish Rebellion. Between 1871–1875 he was in the thick of Central Asian affairs, one of the leaders against Khiva, and the conqueror of Kokand. The Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878 found employment for him nearer home. He commanded the left wing at the storming of Plevna, and afterwards took Adrianople; but experience and military genius are of small avail without that magnetic personal attraction which is inborn only in the greatest leaders. Skobeleff possessed this heaven-sent gift. “He was the God of War personified,” said his trusted lieutenant, General Kurapatkine; and his troops loved him with a passionate ardour which no general has inspired since the days of Napoleon. A conference took place in January 1880 between the Tsar Alexander II. and his brilliant subject, followed by others at the Ministry of War presided over by General Miliutine. The ways and means were fully discussed. It became clear that the failure of 1879 was due to defective transport. The camels on which General Lomakin relied perished by thousands in the desert, and he found himself, at a critical moment, without the means of continuing the siege of Geok Teppe.[622] By one of those happy inspirations which flash on the brain of men of genius, Skobeleff was led to invoke the aid of steam. He knew that the desert was a dead level, without rivers to bridge, and that a scarcity of water was the only difficulty before his engineers. Nay, his eagle eye ranged far beyond the needs of the moment, and clearly foresaw the advantages which would flow from a railway connecting the Caspian and the Amū Daryā.[623] A special railway battalion was formed, and materials for a portable line on the Decauville system were brought to Uzun Ada, the base on the Gulf of Michaelovsk. Before the close of 1880 the section between that post and Mullā Kārī, a distance of thirteen miles, was completed. The control of the expedition was vested in the commander-in-chief of the Caucasus, but a free hand was practically given to Skobeleff, who was named “Temporary Commander of