CHAPTER II

THE COMING OF THE VARANGIANS AND THE BUILDING OF KIEVIAN RUSSIA

Whatever the nature of the causes that led up to this irruption of

stranger folk, the fact and, to a certain extent, the manner of their

coming is substantially set forth in the old chronicles. Like ocean

demi-gods riding out from the sea into the ken of mortal men came three

Russ-Varangian brothers, Rurik, Sineus, and Truvor, with a mighty

host of kinsfolk and followers, steering eastward in their long,

narrow-beaked boats through the waterways that lead from the Finnish

Gulf into the lake-land of the Slavs. Separating their forces, Rurik

established himself at--according to some accounts, built--the town of

Ladoga, on the banks of the Volkhov, twelve miles from its entrance

into the Lake Ladoga, thus interposing himself between Novgorod and the

sea. His brothers settled at Bielozersk and Izborsk respectively, the

latter occupying an important position near Lake Peipus and the Liv

border, the former pushing a Varangian outpost among the Finnish tribes

to the east; all three, whether from accident or design, choosing the

vicinity of an open stretch of water. The date of this immigration is

fixed by the chronicler at 862, which is regarded as the starting-point

of the Russian State. Two years later Rurik, by the death of both his

brothers, was left in sole chieftaincy of the adventurers. From his

first stronghold he soon shifted his headquarters to a point farther up

the Volkhov’s course, over against Novgorod, where he built himself a

citadel; from thence he eventually made himself master of the town, not

apparently without some opposition from the inhabitants. Henceforward

the Skandinavian chief was undisputed prince of the Slavonic people

who had invited him into their country; the neighbouring districts

of Rostov and Polotzk were brought under his authority, and Novgorod

became the capital and centre of a state which reached from Lake Peipus

to the Upper Volga, and from Ladoga to the watershed of the Dvina and

Dniepr. In thus extending and consolidating his power and welding his

Skandinavian following and the discordant Slavic elements into one

smoothly-working organisation, Rurik evinced qualities of statesmanship

equal in their way to those displayed by William the Norman in his

conquest and administration of England. The absence of any national

cohesion among the Slavs, while facilitating the Norse intrusion and

settlement, increased the difficulty of binding them in allegiance

to a central authority; yet within the space of a few crowded years

the Varangian ruler enjoyed an undisputed sway in the lands of his

mastery such as few princes could in those unordered times rely on. Not

the least difficult part of Rurik’s task must have been the control

of his own wanderlusting countrymen, turned loose in an extensive

and vaguely-defined region, with rumours of wealth and plunder and

fighting beckoning them to the south. In the nature of things such

temptation would not be long resisted, especially as the Dniepr offered

a convenient if insecure passage to the desired lands, and a short time

after the first Norse settlement two Skandinavian adventurers, named

Askold and Dir, broke away from the main body with a small following,

possibly with the idea of enlisting themselves in the Varangian Guard

at Byzantium. They did not immediately pursue their journey, however,

farther than Kiev, a townstead of the Polian Slavs,[8] standing on a

low bluff above the west bank of the Dniepr. Here they established

themselves as Rurik had done at Novgorod, and, reinforced perhaps by

roving bodies of their countrymen, set up a second Russian State,

without losing sight, however, of the original object which had drawn

them southwards. Consequently in the summer of 865 an expedition of

from ten to fifteen thousand men, presumably recruited from both Slavs

and Norsemen, embarked in their long, narrow war-boats and sailed for

Byzantium, plundering and burning along the coast of the Black Sea, and

finally riding into the harbour. The audacity of the attack, or perhaps

the warlike reputation of the invading host, seems to have paralysed

the inhabitants of the city, and the authorities had recourse to

supernatural invocation to deliver them from this new danger. The robe

of the Virgin was removed from its venerated shrine in the Blacherne

Chapel, escorted in solemn procession to the shores of the harbour, and

dipped in the water, whereupon arose a tempest that drove the heathen

fleet in disorder out to sea. That, at least, is the account of the

transaction given by the Byzantine chroniclers.

Whether such a command over the atmospherical forces impressed the

barbarian chiefs with the desirable qualities of so militant a

religion, or whether the glories of the Tzargrad as seen dimly from

their boats had insensibly attracted them to the worship of the

“cold Christ and tangled trinities,” which was so much a part of the

Byzantine life, it was said that Askold, shortly after the miscarriage

of the expedition, professed the Christian faith. This much at least

seems certain, that the Greek patriarch Photius was able in the year

866 to send to Kiev a priest with the title, if not the recognition

of Bishop, and that from that time there existed a small Christian

community in that town.

The _Chronicle of Nestor_, almost the only record of this period of

Russian history in existence, is silent on two interesting points,

namely, the works and fightings in which Rurik was presumably engaged

on behalf of his infant state, and the attitude of the Khazars towards

the adventurers who had filched Kiev and the adjoining territory from

their authority.

The only further item in the _Chronicle_ relating to Rurik is the

announcement of his death in the year 879, his child son Igor and the

governance of the country being entrusted to Oleg, a blood relation of

the late Prince. The reign of this chieftain was of great importance to

the fortunes of the germinating Russian State, and if Rurik played the

part of a William the Bastard, Oleg may not unwarrantably be compared

with Charles the Great. The rumours which had reached the North of

a Varangian power that had sprung up among the tribes of the Slavic

hinterland had attracted thither streams of roving warriors, eager to

share the dangers and divide the fruits of their kinsfolks’ enterprise.

Thus both Rurik and the Kievian adventurers had been able to maintain

an easily-recruited standing force of their own countrymen for purposes

offensive and defensive. The larger designs of Oleg, however, required

a larger army, and he enlisted under his captaincy Slavs and Finns in

addition to his Varangian guards. Having spent three years in gathering

and perfecting his resources, he advanced in 882 into the basin-land of

the Dniepr and moved upon Smolensk, the stronghold of the independent

remnant of the Slav tribe of Krivitches. By virtue, possibly, of his

position as leader of an army partly drawn from men of that tribe,

he was allowed to take undisputed possession of the place, which was

henceforth incorporated in the Russ dominion. Still following the

course of the Dniepr, as Askold and Dir had followed it before him, he

entered the country of the Sieverskie Slavs and made himself master of

their head town, Lubetch.

By these successive steps Oleg had brought himself nigh upon Kiev, the

headquarters of the rival principality, which was possibly the object

he had had in view from the commencement of his southward march. For to

the rising Russ-Slavonic State Kiev was at once a menace and an injury;

not only did it offer an alternative attraction to the Norsemen pouring

into the country, the natural reinforcements of Oleg’s following,

but its separate existence cut short the expansion of the northern

territory, and, above all, hindered free intercourse with Byzantium

and the south. To the sea-rovers, reared among the rude and penurious

lands that lay dark and uncivilised between the Baltic and the Arctic

Sea, Byzantium was a dazzling and irresistible attraction; rich

beyond their comprehension of riches, luxurious to a degree unknown

to them, renowned for everything except renown, she seemed a golden

harvest ripe for the steel of the valorous and enterprising. Between

this desired land and the Novgorodian principality the territory of

Askold presented a vexatious obstacle, and it was inevitable that

the sagacity of Oleg should aim at its destruction. At the same time

it was understandable that he should seek to avoid an armed conflict

with his fellow-countrymen, the Varangians of Kiev, and to effect his

purpose by stratagem rather than by force. To this end he approached

the town, laid an ambuscade on the banks of the Dniepr, and in the

guise of a trader travelling from Novgorod to Byzantium, sought speech

with the Kievian rulers. Askold and Dir came out unwittingly to see

this wayfarer, and found no man of wares and whining suppliance; found

rather one whose face they well knew, and with him a small lad whose

significance was swiftly made plain to them. “You are not of the blood

of princes,” cried a voice of triumph and boding in their ears, “but

here behold the son of Rurik.” And therewith rushed out the hidden ones

and slew the unsuspecting chieftains. And in guerdon of this stroke

Oleg was accepted as sovereign by the people of Kiev, the Russian

State was solidified, and the supremacy of Rurik’s dynasty received a

valuable recognition.

The town of Kiev, advantageously situated at a pleasant elevation above

the west bank of the Dniepr, and commanding the waterway to the coveted

south, compared favourably with Novgorod, built among the flat marshes

that bordered Lake Ilmen and surrounded by the Finn-gripped coasts of

Ladoga. The advantages of the former were not lost upon its conqueror,

who saluted it with the title of “mother of all Russian cities” (so

the Chronicles), and thenceforth it became the capital of the country.

It was now necessary to secure the connection between the newly-won

territory and the districts lying to the north. West and north of

Kiev dwelt the Drevlians, a fierce and formidable Slavic tribe,

whose country was fortified by natural defences of forest and marsh.

Against them Oleg turned his arms, and once more victory went with

him; the Drevlians, while retaining their own chieftain, were reduced

to the standing of vassals, and an annual tribute of marten and sable

skins was imposed upon them. Within the next two years the Russian

ruler completed the subjugation of the Sieverskie and enthralled the

remaining lands of the Krivitches, both of which tribes had hitherto

owned allegiance to the Khazars. The growing Russian dominions were now

put under a system of taxation, the sums levied being devoted in the

first place to the payment of the Varangians in the Prince’s service.

The contribution of Novgorod was assessed at the yearly value of 300

_grivnas_, a token of its substantial footing at this particular period.

It was about this time that the Ougres or Magyars, the ancestors of the

modern Hungarians, squeezed out of their Asiatic home by the pressure

of the Petchenigs, burst through the Khazar and Kievian territories and

settled themselves in Moldavia and Wallachia, and finally in Hungary.

Their passage through the Dniepr basin-land would scarcely have been

undisputed, and the Magyar Chronicles speak of a victory over Oleg; the

Russian chronicler is silent on the subject. This scurrying horde of

nomad barbarians, unlike the Avars who preceded them, or the Petchenigs

and Kumans who followed in their wake, crystallised in a marvellously

short space of time into a civilised European State, and became an

important neighbour of the Russian principality.

In 903 the young Igor was mated to a Varangian maiden named Olga,

who, by one account, was born of humble parents in the town of Pskov

and attracted the Prince by her beauty. Other accounts make her, with

more probability, a near relative of the Regent, of whose strength of

character she seems to have inherited a share.

In 907 Oleg was in a position to put into practice a project which

had probably never been lost sight of, the invasion, namely, of the

Byzantine Empire, including an attack on Constantinople itself, a

project dear to the Russian mind in the tenth century as well as in

later times. His footing differed essentially from that of Askold and

Dir in their attempt at a like undertaking. No longer the leader of

a mere troop of adventurers, Oleg swayed an army inspired by a long

series of successes and confident in the sanction and prestige of the

princely authority. Slavs, Finns, and Varangians were bonded together

in a representative Russian army, trained, disciplined, and, above

all, reliant on the ability of their captain. In their long, light

barques they went down the Dniepr, hauling their craft overland where

the rapids rendered navigation impossible, and thence emerged into the

Black Sea; the boats were escorted along the river-banks by a large

body of horsemen, but the Chronicle does not tell whether this branch

of the expedition made its way through Bessarabia and Bulgaria into

the Imperial territory, and probably it only served to guard the main

body from the attacks of hostile tribes in the steppe region. Arrived

in the waters of the Bosphorus the invaders landed and ravaged the

country in the vicinity of Constantinople, burning, plundering, and

slaughtering without hindrance from the Greek forces. Leo VI., “the

Philosopher,” shut himself up in his capital and confined his measures

of defence to placing a chain across the entrance of the harbour.

So much had the Eastern Empire become centralised in the city of

Constantinople, that it was apparently a matter of small concern if the

very suburbs were laid waste, or else Leo was waiting with philosophic

patience for a supernatural intervention. The Virgin, however, not

obliging with another tornado, the invaders turned their impious arms

against the city itself. According to popular tradition, Oleg dragged

his boats ashore, mounted them on wheels, spread sail, and floated

across dry land towards the city walls. Possibly he attempted the

exploit, successfully carried out some five hundred years later by

Sultan Mahomet II., of hauling his vessels overland into the waters

of the harbour, a labour which would be facilitated by the lightness

and toughness of the Russian craft. At any rate the effect of the

demonstration was salutary; the Emperor, alarmed at such a display of

energy, determined to come to terms with his barbarous enemy, first,

however, the Russian chronicler alleges, trying the experiment of an

offering of poisoned meats and fruits to Oleg and his warmen.[9] A

study of the history of Byzantium fully supports the likelihood of

such a stratagem, which, had it succeeded, would have been hailed as

a miraculous epidemic, sweeping the heathen away from the threatened

city. The gift was prudently declined, and the more prosaic and

expensive method of buying off the invaders had to be resorted to. The

treaty which was concluded between the Greeks and the Russians shows

that the latter were fully alive to the advantages accruing from a free

commercial intercourse with Constantinople. Besides the levy of a fixed

sum for every man in the invading fleet, contributions were exacted for

Kiev and other towns under the Russian sway, which arrangement gave to

all a share in the national victory. More solidly advantageous, under

certain specified conditions, Russian merchants were to be permitted

right of free commerce at Constantinople.

The Christian Emperor and the pagan Prince called upon their respective

deities to witness the solemn pact between them, and Oleg, having

hung his shield in triumph on the gate of the Tzargrad, returned to

Kiev loaded with presents and covered with the glory of a successful

campaign. Five years later the great Varangian, loved and honoured

by his people, feared and respected by his foes, finished his long

reign of three-and-thirty years. Tradition has it that the soothsayers

foretold that his death should be caused by his favourite horse,

whereupon he had it led away and never rode it more. Years after,

learning that it was dead, he went to see the skeleton, and placing

his foot upon the skull, taunted the warlocks with their miscarried

prophecy, whereupon a snake wriggled out and inflicted a bite, of which

he died. The same legend crops up in the folk-lore of many lands.

In venturing to compare Oleg with Charles the Great, whose life-work

lay in somewhat similar lines, it may be noted of the former that his

results were obtained with comparatively little bloodshed, and that he

strengthened the position of the dynasty while forming the empire over

which it was to rule. The fairest and most fertile districts of Russia

were added to the principality during his regency, and, more important

still, the peoples whom he subjugated were permanently welded into

the confederation. The Slavs of Kiev in the later years of Oleg were

essentially the “men” of the Russian State, a rapidity of assimilation

which was scarcely observable in the case of the Bavarians and Frisians

of the Frankish Empire, or the Saxons of Norman England. In the matter

of religion, too, the heathen Prince contrasts favourably with the

great Christian Emperor, and though the worshipper of the Christ who

“came not to send peace but a sword” into the world may have butchered

his nonconforming subjects with the honestest conviction of well-doing,

it is pleasanter to read of the toleration which the follower of Peroun

extended to the Christian communities within his realm.

[Sidenote: 912]

Igor, who after a long minority succeeded to a more extensive and

firmly established principality than his father had bequeathed him, was

occupied at the commencement of his reign in suppressing a revolt of

the Drevlians and Ulitches, the least well affected of the Slav tribes

subject to his rule, who had refused payment of the yearly tribute.

The gathering-in of this impost was entrusted to Svenald, a Varangian

to whom Igor deputed the internal management of the realm; after a

three-years’ struggle the rebels were mastered and the amount of their

tribute increased. A new source of uneasiness arose at this juncture

from the arrival in South Russia of the Petchenigs, a Finn-Turko tribe

who migrated from the plains of Asia in the wake of the Magyars and

settled in the steppe-land on either side of the Dniepr. The city of

Kiev enjoyed an immunity from attack from their horde by reason of

the strong force at hand for its defence, and the Russians, moreover,

were interested in keeping up a good understanding with neighbours

who commanded the waterway to the south. But to the newly-erected

Hungarian State the new-comers were a veritable thorn in the flesh,

and Moldavia became a debatable ground between the two peoples. It was

an act of weakness on the part of Igor and his advisers, with a large

fighting force at their disposal, to have permitted the establishment

of a dangerous enemy or doubtful ally in such undesirable nearness

to their capital, and in a position which threatened their principal

trade-route. This policy of peace was all the more ill-judged as the

restless spirit of the Varangian warmen required some outlet for its

employment, and might fittingly have been turned to the advantage of

the State. Their lust for adventure and pillage found vent instead in

independent raids, and in the year 914 a fleet of 700 Russian ships

appeared, somewhat like the proverbial fly in amber, on the waters of

the Kaspian, where they plundered along the Persian coast.[10] Another

troop penetrated into Italy in the service of the Byzantine Emperor.

If the saying, “Happy is the country that has no history” will hold

good in every case, the bulk of Igor’s reign must have been a period of

prosperity, for nothing further is heard of Russia or its Prince till

the year 941, when, like a recurring decimal, an expedition against

Constantinople is recorded by both Greek and Russian annalists. Whether

difficulties had arisen in the trading relations of the two countries,

whether the rupture was forced by a war party among the Varangians,

or whether Igor was fired with the ambition, to which old men are at

times victims, of doing something which should shed lustre on his

declining years--he was now not far off seventy--the Chronicles do not

indicate, and “what was it they fought about” is lost sight of in the

details of the fighting. With a fleet variously written down at from

1000 to 10,000 boats, Igor descended by the old waterway into the Black

Sea and ravaged and plundered along the coasts of the Bosphorus. The

Imperial fleet was absent on service against the Saracens, with the

exception of a few vessels scarcely deemed fit for action, which were

lying in the harbour. It occurred to the Greek Emperor Romanos, after

many sleepless nights, to arm these despised ships and galleys with the

redoubtable Greek fire and steer them against the hostile flotilla,

a desperate expedient which was crowned with success; the mysterious

flames, which the water itself was unable to quench, not only enwrapped

the light barques of the Russians but demoralised their crews, and a

hopeless rout ensued. The Greeks were, however, unable to follow up

their advantage, and Igor rallied his men for a descent on the coast

of Asia Minor, where he consoled himself by pillaging the surrounding

country. Here he was at length opposed by an army under the command

of the patrician Bardas and forced to make his way to Thrace, where

another reverse awaited him. With the remains of his army the baffled

prince made his way back to Kiev, leaving many of his hapless followers

in the hands of the Greeks. Luitprand, Bishop of Cremona, present at

Constantinople on an embassy, saw numbers of them put to death by

torture. The Northman was not, however, at the end of his resources;

with an energy surprising for his years, he set to work to gather an

army which should turn the scale of victory against the Byzantians,

their magical fire and intimacy with the supernatural notwithstanding.

To this end he sent his henchmen into the bays and fjords of the Baltic

to call in the sea-rovers to battle and plunder under his flag. The

invitation they were not loth to accept, but many of them showed a

disinclination to bind themselves under the leadership of the Russian

Prince, and rushed instead, like a brood of ducklings breaking away

from their foster-mother, into the charmed waters of the Kaspian, where

they carried on an exuberant marauding expedition. A sufficient number,

however, followed Igor in his second campaign against the Tzargrad

to swell his ranks to a formidable host, and word was sent to the

Greek capital, from Bulgarian and Greek sources, that the waters of

the Black Sea were covered with the vessels of a Russian fleet. The

Emperor did not hesitate what course to adopt, but hastily despatched

an embassy to meet the invader with offers to pay the tribute exacted

by Oleg and renew the treaty between the two countries. The Imperial

messengers fell in with Igor at the mouth of the Danube, and their

proposals were agreed to after a consultation between the Prince and

his _droujhiniki_,[11] who in fact gained without further struggle

as much as they could have hoped for in the event of a victory. Igor

returned to Kiev as a conqueror, loaded with presents from Romanos,

who sent thither in the following year his ambassadors with a text of

the treaty. This was sworn to by the Prince and his captains before

the idol of Peroun, except in the case of the Christian minority,

who performed their oath at the altar of S. Elias. The fact of a

Christian cathedral--a designation probably more ambitious than the

building--being established at Kiev at this period speaks much for

the toleration shown to the foreign religion by the followers of the

national god.

Igor did not long enjoy the fruits of this success. Baulked of their

expected campaign, his men of war chafed at the inaction of the old

man’s court, and envied the comparative advantages thrown in the way

of Svenald’s body-guards. It was a custom of the Russian rulers to

spend one-half of the year, from November till April, in visiting

the scattered districts of their dominion, for the double purpose of

keeping in touch with their widely-sundered subjects and gathering

in the revenue. This winter harvesting of the tribute (which Igor

in his declining years left in the hands of his deputed steward) is

interesting as being probably the earliest stage of Russian home

trade. For the most part the payment in kind consisted of furs and

skins, the bulk of which went from the various places of collection

in boat-loads down to Kiev, from thence eventually making its way to

the sea marts of Southern Europe. The forest country of the Drevlians,

rich in its yield of thick-coated sables and yellow-chested martens,

lay in convenient neighbourhood to Kiev, and thither the Prince’s men

clamoured to be led for the purpose of gleaning an increased tribute.

In a moment of fatal weakness Igor consented, and in the autumn of 945

set out to close his reign as he had begun it, in a quarrel with “the

tree people” over the matter of their taxing. The armed host which

accompanied the Prince overawed the resentment bred by this stretching

of the sovereign claims, but the apparent ease with which the imposts

were gathered in tempted Igor to linger behind his returning main-guard

for the purpose of exacting a further levy. The exasperated Drevlians,

hearkening to the counsel of their chieftain, Mal, “to rise and slay

the wolf who was bent on devouring their whole flock,” turned suddenly

upon the fate-blind Igor in the midst of his importunings and put him

to a hideous death. Two young trees were bent towards each other nearly

to the ground, and to them the unfortunate tyrant was bound; then the

trees were allowed to spring back to their normal position. Thus did

the tree people avenge their wrongs.

The safest standard by which to judge a reign of the inward history

of which so little can be known is the measure of stability which

it leaves behind it. The widow of the murdered Prince and his young

heir Sviatoslav came peaceably into the vacant throneship, and it is

no small tribute to the statecraft of Rurik and his successors that

the grandson of the Varangian stranger and adventurer should inherit,

at a tender age and under the guardianship of a woman, the Russian

principality without opposition and without question.

The young Kniaz,[12] notwithstanding the Slavonic name which he was the

first of his house to bear, was brought up mainly among Skandinavian

influences, his person and the domestic management of the State being

entrusted to Varangian hands. His mother Olga bore no small share of

the administration, and the vigour and energy of her doings were well

worthy of the heroic age of early Russia. The first undertaking which

was called for, alike by political necessity and the promptings of

revenge, was the chastisement of her husband’s murderers. With the

idea possibly of averting the storm by a bold stroke of diplomacy,

the latter had sent messengers to the widowed princess suggesting a

connubial alliance with the implicated chieftain Mal, a proposal which

was met with a feigned acceptance. Having lulled the apprehensions of

the Drevlians, Olga marched into their country with a large following

and turned the projected festivities into a massacre, after which

she besieged the town of Korosten,[13] the scene of Igor’s death,

and the last refuge of the disconcerted rebels. The Chronicle of the

monk of Kiev gives a quaint, old-world account of the manner of the

taking of Korosten. All the summer the inhabitants defended themselves

stubbornly, and the princess at last agreed to conclude a peace on

receipt of a tribute, which was to consist of a live pigeon and three

live sparrows from each homestead. How they caught the sparrows is left

to the imagination, but the tribute was gladly paid. At the approach of

evening Olga caused the birds to be set free, each with a lighted brand

fastened to its tail, whereupon their homing instincts took them back

to their dwellings in the thatched roofs and barns of Korosten, with

the result that the town was soon in a blaze, and the inhabitants fell

easy victims to the swords of the besiegers. Thus was avenged the death

of Igor, the son of Rurik.

Shortly after this exploit Olga left Kiev and went into the northern

parts of her son’s realm, fixing her court for some years at Novgorod

and Pskov, and raising the prosperity of those townships by keeping

up a connection with the Skandinavian lands. Later she turned her

thoughts towards the south, not with warlike projects, as her

forerunners had done, but with peaceful intent. Accompanied by a

suitable train she journeyed, in the year 957, to Constantinople, where

she was received and entertained with due splendour by the Emperor

Constantine-born-in-the-Purple and the Patriarch Theophylact. Here,

in the metropolis of the Christian religion, surrounded by all the

splendours of ritual of which the Greeks were masters, this surprising

woman adopted the prevalent faith, received at the hands of her

Imperial host and sponsor the baptismal name of Helen, and became

“the first Russian who mounted to the heavenly kingdom”--a rather

disparaging reflection on the labours of the early Church at Kiev.

Loaded with presents from the Imperial treasury, Olga returned to her

son, whom she strove fruitlessly to detach from the gods of his fathers

to the worship of the new deities she had brought from Constantinople.

The Russian mind was not yet ripe for the mystic cult of the Greek or

Latin Church, and the conversion of the Prince’s mother made little

impression on either boyarins or people. In the year 964 Sviatoslav

definitely assumed the government of the country, and struck the

key-note of his reign by extending his sway over the Viatitches, the

last Slavonic tribe who paid tribute to the Khazars. This was only

preliminary to an attack on that people in their own country. The fate

of their once powerful empire was decided in one battle; the arms of

the young Kniaz were victorious; Sarkel, the White City, fell into his

hands, the outlying possessions of the Khazars, east and south, were

subdued, and the kakhanate was reduced to a shadow of its former glory.

It would have been a wiser policy to have left untouched, for the time

being, the integrity of a State which was no longer formidable, and

which interposed a civilised barrier between the Russian lands and

the barbarian hordes of the East, and to have pursued instead a war

of extermination against the Petchenigs. Sviatoslav was himself to

experience the disastrous results of this mistake.

[Sidenote: 968]

In the following year the centre of interest shifts from the south-east

to the south-west. The Greek Emperor, Nicephorus Phocas, irritated

against his vassal Peter, King or Tzar of Bulgaria, in that he had not

exerted himself against the Magyars, who were raiding the Imperial

dominions, turned for help, according to the approved Byzantine

policy, to another neighbour, and commissioned Sviatoslav to march

against Bulgaria. A large sum of Greek gold was conveyed to Kiev by

an ambassador from the Emperor, and in return the Russian Prince set

out for the Danube with a following of 60,000 men. The onset of the

invaders was irresistible, and the Bulgarians scattered and fled,

leaving their capital, Péréyaslavetz, and Dristr, a strongly fortified

place on the Danube, in the hands of the conqueror. To complete the

good fortune of Sviatoslav the Tzar Peter died at this critical

moment, and the Russian Prince settled down in his newly-acquired

city, undisputed master of Bulgaria. East and west his arms had been

successful, but in the very heart of his realm he had left a dread and

watchful enemy, who would not fail to take advantage of his absence.

While his army was at quarters in the head city of the Bulgarians, his

own capital was being besieged and closely pressed by the Petchenigs,

that “greedy people, devouring the bodies of men, corrupt and impure,

bloody and cruel beasts,” as the monk of Edessa portrays them; in which

certificate it is to be hoped they were over-described. The folk in the

beleaguered city, among the rest the aged Olga and the young sons of

Sviatoslav, were in straits from want of food, and must have succumbed

if one of their number had not made his way by means of a feint through

the enemy’s camp, and carried news of their desperate condition to a

boyarin named Prititch who was luckily at hand with a small force.

On his approach the Petchenigs drew off, thinking that the Prince

himself had returned with his army, and Kiev was relieved from the

straits of famine. Sviatoslav meanwhile had learned of the danger which

threatened his realm and household and hastened back from Bulgaria.

Even this narrowly staved-off disaster did not open his eyes to the

menace which these undesirable neighbours ever held over him and his,

and he contented himself with inflicting a severe defeat on them and

concluding a worthless peace. Possibly he found it hard to arouse among

his followers any enthusiasm for a campaign against an enemy who had no

wealthy cities to plunder or riches of any kind available for spoil.

In any case he was bitten with the desire, to which rulers of Russia

seem to have been periodically subject, of shifting the seat of his

government to a fresh capital. Before his mother and his boyarins he

declared his project of fixing his seat at Péréyaslavetz in preference

to Kiev, and enumerated the advantages of the former. From the Greeks

came gold, fabrics, wine, and fruits; from Bohemia and Hungary horses

and silver; from Russia furs, wax, honey, and slaves. To Olga, with the

hand of death already on her, the question was not one of great moment,

and four days later she had made her last journey to a vault in the

cathedral of Kiev. A certain compassion is excited by the contemplation

of the aged queen, dying lonely in a faith that her husband had never

known, which her son had not accepted, just as the realm over which

she had ruled so actively was to be enlarged and its political centre

shifted. Her death removed the last obstacle to Sviatoslav’s design,

the last that is to say with which he reckoned. Before departing for

Bulgaria the Prince set his sons, who could not at this date (970) have

been of a very mature age, in responsible positions, Yaropalk, the

elder, becoming governor of Kiev, and Oleg prince of the Drevlians.

The Novgorodskie, who had been left for many years to the hireling

care of Sviatoslav’s deputies, demanded a son of the princely house as

ruler, threatening in case of refusal to choose one from elsewhere for

themselves; here the stormy spirit of Velikie Novgorod shows itself for

the first time. Happily the supply of sons was equal to the demand; by

one of Olga’s maidens named Malousha the Prince had become father of

Vladimir, destined to play an important part in the history of Russia,

and to him, under the guardianship of his mother’s brother Drobuinya,

was confided the government of the northern town. Having thus arranged

for the present security and future confusion of his territories by

instituting the system of separate appanages, Sviatoslav set out for

his new possession beyond the Danube. “A prince should, if possible,

live in the country he has conquered,” wrote the political codist of

mediæval Italy, and the Russian monarch found that even his brief

absence had lost him much of the fruits of his victory. The Bulgarians

mustered to oppose his march with a large force, and a desperate

battle ensued, in which defeat was only staved off from the invaders

by the heroic exertions of their leader. Péréyaslavetz was retaken,

and Sviatoslav again became master of the Balkan land, permitting,

however, Boris, son of the late Tzar, to keep the gold crown, frontlet,

and red buskins which were the Bulgarian marks of royalty. The Greeks

now repented their folly in having established in their immediate

neighbourhood, within a few short marches of Constantinople, a prince

who was far more dangerous to them than ever the Bulgarian Tzars had

been. John Zimisces, who had succeeded the ill-fated Nicephorus on

the precarious throne of the Eastern Empire, called upon Sviatoslav

to fulfil the engagement made with his predecessor and evacuate the

Imperial dependency. The Prince in possession contemptuously refused

to comply with this demand, and threatened instead to march against

Constantinople and drive the Greeks into Asia. Fortunately for the

Empire at this crisis her new ruler was a soldier of proved ability,

and knew also who were the right men to rely on for active support

and co-operation. On the other hand Sviatoslav prepared for the

coming struggle by enlisting the aid of the Bulgarians themselves,

the Magyars, and even roving bodies of Petchenigs. With this mixed

force he burst into Thrace, ravaging the country up to the walls of

Adrianople, where the Imperial general Bardas-Scleras, brother-in-law

of Zimisces, had entrenched himself. Here in the autumn of 970 the

fierce bravery of the Russians and their allies was matched against

the Greek generalship, with the result that Sviatoslav was forced to

retire into Bulgaria. The recall of Bardas to suppress an insurrection

in Capadocia prevented him from following up his advantage, and gave

the Russians an opportunity for retiring from a position which was no

longer safe. Sviatoslav, however, either did not see his danger, or

chose to disregard it rather than return home baffled and empty-handed.

Accordingly he spent the year 971 in aimless raids into Macedonia,

while his wily enemy made the most elaborate preparations for his

destruction. In the spring of 972 Zimisces advanced with a large

army into Bulgaria, while a Greek fleet blocked the mouths of the

Danube, cutting off the Russian line of retreat. Sviatoslav with the

bulk of his army was encamped at Dristr, and here tidings came that

the Emperor had crossed the Balkans and, after a stubborn resistance,

taken Péréyaslavetz--“the Town of Victory”--and possessed himself of

the person of Prince Boris. Nothing daunted, Sviatoslav led his army

against that of Zimisces, and a battle ensued which, from the heroic

valour with which it was contested and the important issues involved,

deserves to be recognised as one of the decisive battles of history.

Both leaders showed the utmost personal courage, and victory for a

long while hung doubtful, but at length the Greek forces prevailed

and Sviatoslav was driven back upon Dristr, his last stronghold in

Bulgaria. This time the Imperial success was followed up, and the town

was attacked with a vigour and determination which was only equalled

by the stubbornness of the defence. The Russians made sorties by

day, retreating when outnumbered, under the protection of their huge

bucklers, to within the walls of the town, from whence they issued at

night, to burn by the light of the moon the bodies of their fallen

comrades, and sacrifice over their ashes the prisoners they had taken.

By way of propitiating their gods, or possibly the Danube, which was

covered with the boats of their enemies, they drowned in its waters

cocks and little children.[14] The Magister John, a relation of the

Emperor, having fallen into their hands in a skirmish, was torn in

pieces and his head exposed on the battlements. The besieged, however,

were daily reduced in numbers and weakened by want, and Sviatoslav

resolved on a last bid for victory. Swarming forth from behind their

battered ramparts, the men of the North met their foes in open field,

and the wager of battle was staunchly and obstinately contested.

Sviatoslav was struck off his horse and nearly killed, but the Russians

did not give way until mid-day, when a dust-storm blew into their

faces and forced them to yield the fight, leaving outside the walls

of Dristr, according to the Byzantine annalists, 15,000 slain. The

monkish chroniclers, as usual, attributed the hard-won victory to

supernatural intervention, and while the Imperial soldiers were resting

from their exertions a story was circulated throughout the camp giving

the credit of the day to an apparition of S. Theodore of Stratilat,

who had appeared in the thick of the battle mounted on a white horse.

The Russian defeat, whether due to saint, army, or dust-storm, was

sufficiently decisive to bring the Prince to sue for terms, which were

readily granted by the Emperor. The Russians engaged to withdraw from

Bulgaria and to live at peace with the Eastern Empire; the Greeks

on their part engaged to permit Russian merchants free commercial

intercourse at Constantinople. More than this, the Emperor requested

the Petchenigs to allow Sviatoslav and his thinned host unmolested

passage to his own territories. Whether this was done in good faith, or

whether secret instructions were given to the contrary, is a matter of

opinion, or at most of induction; it is pleasanter to set against the

general treachery of Byzantine statecraft the fact that Zimisces was

a brave man, and to give him credit for the honour which is the usual

accompaniment of courage.

The importance of this defeat cannot be over-estimated, and it is

interesting to speculate as to the possible results of a victory

for Sviatoslav--a victory which might well have changed the whole

course of European history. A powerful Slavonic principality with

its headquarters in the basin of the Danube would have attracted to

itself, by the magnetism of blood, the kindred races of Serbs, Kroats,

Dalmatians, Slavonians, and Moravians, all of which, with the exception

of the first-named, were eventually absorbed into the Germanic Empire;

while Bohemia, instead of gravitating towards the house of Habsburg,

would more naturally have entered the Russian State-organism. From

Péréyaslavetz to Constantinople is a short cry, and it is reasonable

to conjecture that under these circumstances the Slav and not the Turk

would in due course have stepped into the shoes of the Paleologi.

The palace intrigues, treason, and assassination which placed John

Zimisces on the throne of the Cæsars at this critical juncture in the

affairs of the Empire had an effect on the destinies of Europe which

can only be likened in importance to the Moorish defeat on the plain of

Tours at the hands of Charles Martel.

After a meeting between the leaders of the two armies, during which the

Emperor sat his horse on the river bank while the vanquished Prince

stood, simply clad, in a boat which he himself helped to work, the

latter made his way towards Kiev with the remnant of his following.

But the enemy which his short-sighted policy had neglected to crush

was waiting for him now in the hour of his extremity; the Petchenigs

held the cataracts of the Dniepr, where the returning boats must be

dragged ashore, and notwithstanding their agreement with Zimisces,

blocked the passage of the Russian army. Sviatoslav waited at the mouth

of the river till the coming of spring, when he risked a battle with

his savage enemies, and lost. Warrior to the last, he died fighting,

and tradition has it that his skull became a drinking-cup for the

chief of the Petchenigs; of the mighty host which had started out for

the conquest of Bulgaria but few made their way back to Kiev. Thus

perished Sviatoslav, in spite of his Slavonic name a thorough type of

the Varangian chieftain. Brave, active, and enduring, his chivalry

was in advance of his age, and it is told of him that he always gave

his enemies fair warning of attack, sending a messenger before him

with the tidings, “I go against you.” He was, however, more a fighter

than a general, and did not display the statesmanlike qualities of

Rurik, Oleg, and Olga, while the unhappy results of his partition of

the realm between his three sons were immediately apparent at his

death. Yaropalk did not enjoy any authority over the districts ruled

by his brothers, who lived as independent princes. The inevitable

quarrels were not long in breaking out. Consequent on a hunting fray

in the wooded Drevlian country between the retainers of Oleg and

Yaropalk, in which one of the latter’s men was killed, an armed feud

sprang up between the brothers, which came to a tragic end in a

fight around the town of Oubrovtch. [Sidenote: 977] Oleg, worsted in

the battle, was thrown down by the press of his own soldiers as he

was seeking to enter the town, and trampled to death in the general

stampede. Yaropalk is said to have been plunged in remorse at this

untoward event, but the news was otherwise interpreted at Novgorod and

caused the hasty flight of the young Vladimir to Skandinavian lands,

beyond the reach of his half-brother’s malevolence. Yaropalk sent

his underlings to hold the vacant principality, and thus became for

the time sole ruler of Russia. The outcast, however, after two years

of wandering in viking lands, reappeared suddenly at Novgorod with a

useful following of Norse adventurers, and drove out his brother’s

lieutenants, following up this act of defiance by moving at the head

of his men towards Kiev. On the way he turned aside to Polotzk, then

held as a dependent fief by a Varangian named Rogvolod. This chief had

a daughter, Rogneda, trothed in marriage to Yaropalk, and Vladimir,

by way of ousting his half-brother from all his possessions, sent and

demanded her hand for himself. The maiden haughtily refused to wed the

“son of a slave,” and added that she was already pledged to Yaropalk;

whereupon the headstrong lover stormed the town, slew her father and

two brothers, and bore off the unwilling bride--a wooing which somewhat

resembles that of William the Norman and Matilda of Flanders some

half-hundred years later. The despoiled rival had, on the approach

of Vladimir and his war-carles, shut himself up in Kiev, but growing

doubtful of the goodwill of the inhabitants, he suffered himself to

be persuaded by false counsellors to move into the small town of

Rodnya. In consequence of this faint-hearted desertion Kiev threw open

her gates to Vladimir, who followed up his good fortune by besieging

the Prince in his new refuge. Pressed by assault without and famine

within--the miseries suffered by the Rodnya folk have passed into a

proverb--the hunted Kniaz rashly, or perhaps despairingly, agreed to

visit his peace-feigning brother at his palace in Kiev. Yaropalk alone

was allowed to enter the courtyard doors, behind which lurked two

Varangian guards, who used their blades quickly and well, and Vladimir

reigned as sole Prince of the Russians.

[Sidenote: 980]

The early years of the new reign were devoted to family-founding on

a generous scale, the Prince, by his several wives and concubines,

becoming the father of manifold sons, all of whom bore names of

distinctly Slavonic resonance. By the raped Rogneda he had Isiaslav,

Mstislav, Yaroslav, Vsevolod, and two daughters; a second wife, of

Czech origin, presented him with Vouytchislav; a third was the mother

of Sviatoslav, and a fourth, of Bulgarian nationality, was responsible

for Boris and Glieb. In addition to his own ample offspring he adopted

into his family Sviatopolk, the posthumous son of Yaropalk. But the

pressure of family cares did not absorb his undivided attention. On the

western border several Russian strongholds in the district of Galitz

(Galicia) had been seized during the embarrassed reign of Yaropalk by

Mscislav, Duke of Poland, and for the recovery of these Vladimir set

his armed men in motion. Tcherven, Peremysl, and other places fell into

his hands, but the wars on the Polish march dragged on at intervals

and outlasted the reigns of both princes. This was the first clash

of the two neighbour nations whose history was to be so dramatically

interblended. The Duke of Poland had his hands so full with the

intrusive affairs of Bohemia, Hungary, the Western Empire, and the

Wends, that he was obliged to content himself with a policy of defence

on his eastern border, and Vladimir was able to turn his arms in other

directions. In 982 he suppressed a revolt of the Viatitches, and in the

next year extended his authority among the Livs as far as the Baltic.

According to the Chronicle of the Icelandic annalist Sturleson, these

people paid tribute to the Russian Prince, but his sway over them

could only have lasted a while, as they certainly enjoyed independence

till a much later date. Two years later he made a successful raid into

the country of the Volga-Bulgarians, which he wisely followed up by a

well-marketed peace, and returned to Kiev not empty-handed.

At this period the Christian religion was making its final conquest

of the outlying princes and peoples of Europe. The double influence

of the Holy Roman Empire and the Papal See--the latter now free from

any dependence on the Byzantine Court--gave that religion a powerful

advertisement among the outlandish folks, and as each nation was

brought into subjection to, or enjoyed intercourse with the great

central State, so the rites and ceremonies of the prevailing worship

were displayed before their eyes with all the glamour and sanction

of Imperial authority. The Saxon annalist, Lambert of Aschaffenburg,

recounts, for instance, how Easter was kept at Quedlingburg in the year

973 by the Emperor Otho I. and his son (afterwards Otho II.), attended

by envoys from Rome, Greece, Benevento, Italy, Hungary, Denmark,

Slavonia, Bulgaria, and Russia, “with great presents.” The feasts and

devotions observed in the little town, the services in the hill-top

abbey, founded by Henry the Fowler, the processions of chanting monks

with lighted tapers--all in honour of the Man-God who had died in a

far country, but who rose triumphant to live above them in the sky and

behind the high altar--would not fail to make deep impression on the

heathen visitors. The western Prince was so much greater and richer

and more powerful than their princes, might not the western gods be

greater than their gods? Bohemia, which early in its history came into

close contact with the Empire, had already adopted Christianity, and

in Poland Vladimir’s contemporary and sometime antagonist, Mscislav,

had in 966 entered the same faith. Hungary was still pagan, though its

conversion was to come in the lifetime of the reigning Duke (Geyza),

while in Norway, towards the close of the century, the worshippers of

Wodin were to be confronted with the alternative of death or baptism.

In no country was the transition from paganism to Christianity effected

in so remarkable a manner as in Russia. Vladimir, who had shown

much zeal in erecting and ornamenting statues of Peroun at Kiev and

Novgorod, grew suddenly dissatisfied with the national worship, without

at the same time feeling special attraction towards any substitute.

While contemplating a desertion of the old religion he naturally wished

to replace it with the most reliable form of faith obtainable, and

for this purpose trusty counsellors were sent on a mission of inquiry

to Rome, to Constantinople, to the Volga-Bulgarians (who had embraced

Islam), and to the Jews--probably those dwelling among the Khazars.

When the scattered envoys returned, the result of their investigations

was laid before Vladimir, and this young man in search of a religion

examined and compared the pretensions of the competing creeds.

Circumcision and abstinence from wine put the cult of the Prophet

out of court; the first of these objections applied equally to the

Jewish doctrine, and the vagabond condition of its votaries offended

the monarch’s idea of an established religion. The Romish faith was

unacceptable by reason of the claims, which her head was beginning to

assert, of supreme dominion in things spiritual and active interference

in temporal matters; moreover, her ritual, especially as the Russians

may have seen it practised in the infant churches of Bohemia, Poland,

and Eastern Germany, was overshadowed and eclipsed by the splendid

ceremonial of the Greek Church, particularly in the services of S.

Sophia at Constantinople. “The magnificence of the temple, the presence

of all the Greek clergy, the richness of the sacerdotal vestments, the

ornaments of the altar, the exquisite odour of the incense, the sweet

singing of the choirs, the silence of the people, in short, the holy

and mysterious majesty of the ceremonies, all struck the Russians with

admiration.”[15] The recital of these splendours inclined the Prince

to a favourable consideration of the Greek faith, if indeed he had not

previously had leanings towards that religion, and the finishing touch

was added by an argument which appealed to his family pride. “If the

Greek religion had not been the true religion, would your grandmother

Olga, the wisest of mortals, have adopted it?” asked the partisans

of the new doctrines; and the matter was settled. But Vladimir had

a procedure of his own for the delicate process of changing his

religion: not as a humble penitent was he going to enter the true

Church. For the baptism of a sovereign prince an archbishop was an

indispensable requisite, and it did not suit his ideas of dignity to

apply for the loan of such a functionary to the Greek Emperors, who

would have been only too glad to oblige him in the matter. Vladimir

chose rather to capture his archbishop. For this purpose he engaged in

one of the most extraordinary expeditions which history has furnished.

Setting out from Kiev with a large host, he made his way down the

Dniepr and along the Black Sea coast to the ancient town of Kherson, a

self-governing dependency of the Eastern Empire. Closely besieging it,

he was met with a desperate resistance, and only made himself master of

the place by cutting off the springs which supplied it with water. From

this position of vantage he sent to the brothers Basil and Constantine,

who shared the Greek Imperial throne, a request or demand for the hand

of their sister Anne. The circumstances of these princes did not admit

of a refusal; the celebrated generals Bardas Sclerus and Phocas were

in active revolt against the successors of John Zimisces, and another

change of dynasty seemed imminent; consequently Vladimir’s suggested

alliance was agreed to on the stipulation that he became a Christian

and furnished the Imperial family with some Russian auxiliaries. The

Princess Anne was despatched to join her destined husband, who was

forthwith baptized by the Archbishop of Kherson in the church of S.

Basil, and the marriage ceremony followed. The Prince returned to

Kiev with his bride and a strange booty of priests, sacred vessels,

and saintly relics, having restored unfortunate Kherson, for which he

had no further use, to the Greek Emperors, and sent them the promised

succours. By this satisfactory arrangement Basil and Constantine were

able to conserve their possession of the Byzantine Empire, while

Vladimir on his part “obtained the hand of the princess and the kingdom

of heaven.”

Fantastic as this procedure of conversion may at first sight appear,

there was probably sound policy underlying it; the Russians would be

reconciled to the deposition of their wonted gods, and the acceptance

of fresh ones from their old enemies, the Greeks, by the consoling

reflection that their Prince had, at the sword’s point, “captured” the

new religion from alien hands. Priests have taught that there is but

one way of entering the true faith; Vladimir demonstrated that there

are at least two.

The conversion of the people followed in due course; the wooden statue

of Peroun, with its silver face and moustache of gold, was thrown down,

flogged with whips, and hurled into the Dniepr, whose waters cast it up

again on the bank. The affrighted people rushed to worship their old

god, but the Prince’s men pushed him back into the current, and Peroun

the silver-faced was swept down the stream and vanished into the purple

haze “where the dead gods sleep.”

On the banks of the same river that had engulfed their fallen idol

the inhabitants of Kiev were mustered by command, and after the

Greek priests had consecrated its waters, into it plunged at a given

signal the whole wondering multitude, men, women, and children, and

were baptized in one batch. A like scene was enacted at Novgorod,

with the substitution of the Volkhov for the Dniepr, and throughout

Russia the transition was effected in an equally successful manner.

No doubt the cult of the ancient pantheism lingered for a while,

especially in the remoter districts, but it was merged in time in the

saint worship of the new religion, and the old heathen festivals and

year-marks became, under other names, those of the Christian calendar.

The feast of Kolyada and the birthday of the Sun slid naturally into

the celebrations of the Nativity without losing aught of its festive

character. In similar fashion the institutions of the Greek Orthodox

Church everywhere took root in the country till they became part of the

life of the people. Kiev henceforth is a city of churches and shrines,

with its Cathedral of S. Sofia and its Golden Gate, in ambitious

imitation of Constantinople.

The adoption of Christianity in its Greek form exercised a momentous

influence on the history of Russia. Up to this point she had been

travelling in the same direction as the growing nations around her,

and seemed destined to take her place in the European family; but by

taking as her ghostly sponsor the decaying Byzantine State, which

could scarcely protect its own territories, instead of cultivating the

alliance of the all-powerful Roman Papacy, she prepared herself for

a gradual isolation from Western civilisation and Western sympathy.

For although the actual temporal power of the Holy See did not extend

much beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the Eternal City, the moral

ascendancy which the Church possessed over some fifteen kingdoms and

a crowd of lesser states gave her the disposal of an ever-available

fund of temporal support, and enabled her to extend her protection

or assistance to all the bodies politic, great or small, within her

communion. Witness, for instance, the vast armies she was able to send

careering into the “Holy Land” on behoof of Jerusalem-bound pilgrims,

and later, the troops she could raise from various parts of the Empire

for the reinforcement of the Teutonic Order in its struggles with the

heathen Prussians and Pomeranians. Russia, by her adoption of the Greek

instead of the Roman faith, put herself beyond the pale of Catholic

Christendom, and in the hour of her striving with the Mongol Horde

could look for no help from Western Europe; when she emerged from that

strife she was less European than Asiatic. In like manner the Greek

Empire, two hundred years later, fell unbefriended into the hands of

the Ottomans. And in civilisation as well as in war the dominions of

the princes of Kiev suffered from their lack of intercourse with Rome;

the visits of cardinals and nuncios would have served as a constant

link between Russia and the West, and have stimulated the growth

of towns in the wild lands that led up to the Dniepr basin. What

in fact Rome did for Hungary, on the latter’s entry into the Latin

Church--raising her from the position of a semi-barbarous state to

that of an important kingdom--that might she have done under similar

circumstances for the Eastern principality. There is, of course,

another side to this reckoning; Russia, at least, was spared some

of the distractions and unhappinesses which radiated from the throne

of the apostles, while her very isolation in matters of religious

polity helped to preserve for her a strong individuality which

other Slav or Magyar nations lost as the price of their intercourse

with Catholic-Teutonic Europe. Possibly her history is not even yet

sufficiently developed for a final assessment of the matter, but

for present purposes it is necessary to note a turning-point in her

political evolution--a turn towards the East.

Although Christianity was become opposed to the practice of polygamy,

Vladimir’s first act after his baptism had been to increase his

connubial establishment by marriage with the Imperial princess. Three

more sons had been added to his already ample family, and, disregarding

the lesson of the disturbances which had followed the partition of

the realm between himself and his half-brothers, the Prince resolved

to parcel out his dominions among his surviving sons and his nephew.

Eight principalities were carved out from the parent stem, and became

each the share of a dependent kniaz, to wit, Novgorod, Polotzk, Rostov,

Mourom, the Drevlian country, Vladimir (in Volhynia), Tmoutorokan, and

Tourov.

In 998 the Russian arms were turned successfully against the Krovatians

on the Galician frontier, and against the ever troublesome Petchenigs,

who continued to disturb the southern borders at intervals during the

reign.

Another war broke out later in the north. Vladimir had given refuge,

and possibly support, to Olaf, aspirant to the Norwegian crown, then

held by Erik, and when Olaf at last succeeded in ousting his rival,

the latter, in revenge, “came into the realm of King Vladimir,” in the

vigorous words of the Icelandic saga, and “fell a-harrying, and slew

men-folk, and burnt all before him, and laid waste the land; and he

came to Aldeigia-burg[16], and beset it till he won the stead. There he

slew many folk and brake down and burnt all the burg, and thereafter

fared wide about Garth-realm[17] doing all deeds of war.” It was four

years before Vladimir was able to drive the “spear-storm bounteous

Eric” away from his northern coasts. The date of this war is uncertain;

probably it stretched into the second decade of the new century.

Vladimir, who had lost his Imperial throne-mate in 1011, was confronted

in 1014 with a domestic trouble of another nature; his son Yaroslav,

Kniaz of Novgorod, refused to continue the yearly tribute which that

principality was wont to pay into the Grand Prince’s treasury, and

declared himself independent of Kiev. Vladimir made ready to march

against his rebellious son, who on his part prepared to resist his

angry father, but the sudden failing of the old man’s powers and an

inroad of the perennial Petchenigs delayed the struggle. [Sidenote:

1015] Vladimir’s favourite son Boris, Prince of Rostov, was put in

charge of the forces sent against the invaders, and during his absence

the monarch ended his days at Berestov (a village near Kiev), leaving

the succession to the Grand principality an open question.

The character of this Prince, to whom the Church gave the title of

“Holy,” and who was commemorated by his subjects as “the Great,” is a

difficult one for the historian to appraise. The excesses of a stormy

and well-spent youth were atoned for, in the eyes of the monkish

chroniclers, by an old age of almsgiving and other decorative virtues,

and in most respects the doings of his reign gave evidence of wise and

wary management. The splitting up of his kingdom was a flaw in his

statecraft which had, however, the sanction of custom in the times in

which he lived.

The only member of the Grand Prince’s family within reach of Kiev

at the moment of his death was his nephew Sviatopalk, ruler of the

province of Tourov, in which capacity, according to the contemporary

Chronicle of Ditmar, Bishop of Merseburg, he had, at the prompting of

his father-in-law Boleslas, King of Poland, raised a rebellion against

Vladimir. The attempt was frustrated and punished by the imprisonment

of the rebel and his wife, but apparently a reconciliation had taken

place between the uncle and nephew, and Sviatopalk was at large, and,

what was more important, on the spot when the throne of Kiev became

empty. The boyarins of the court, ill-disposed towards a prince who

was outside the immediate family of their late master, tried to keep

back the tidings of his death while they sent messengers to recall

Boris from his fruitless campaign against the Petchenigs. The corpse

was wrapped round in a covering, let down by ropes from a palace

window in the dead of night, and borne hurriedly to the church of the

Bogoroditza (Mother of God) at Kiev. Rumours of the Prince’s death,

however, began to fly about the city, and all precautions were rendered

abortive by the tell-tale sight of the crowds which flocked to lament

over his body. Sviatopalk proclaimed himself Grand Prince, rallied

the boyarins to his side by a timely distribution of gifts, and then

proceeded to strike, with the instinct of self-preservation, at the

several kinsmen who were within reach. Prince Boris was surprised and

slain one night in his tent near the banks of the Alta, being, the

Chronicles relate, engaged in prayer at the time of his murder. This

circumstance procured for him the posthumous honour of sainthood, and

he became a national fetish in the calendar of the Russian Church.

His brother Glieb, decoyed from his principality of Mourom by a

feigned message from his defunct father, was waylaid while travelling

down the Dniepr and met the same doom--shared also in the attendant

glory of subsequent canonisation. Sviatoslav, Prince of the Drevlian

country, taking natural affright at Sviatopalk’s deeds, which seemed

to foreshadow the extinction of the sons of Vladimir, fled towards

Hungary; at the foot of the Karpathian Mountains, however, he was

overtaken and killed by the Grand Prince’s men. From this scene of

slaughter and violence there escaped a shivering fugitive, the Princess

Predslava, a daughter of the luckless house of Vladimir, who made her

way with all speed to Novgorod; there she found her brother Yaroslav

red with the blood of his subjects, shed in cold vindictiveness

rather than in hot quarrel. The hideous wrath and dole called forth

by the doings of Sviatopalk mastered all other passions, and led the

Prince to throw himself on the goodwill of his misused people; and

the men of Novgorod, foregoing their private griefs, turned their

rage and their weapons against the monster of Kiev. [Sidenote: 1016] A

thousand Varangians and fourteen thousand Russians marched southward

with Yaroslav against Sviatopalk, who on his part had got together

a large force, including a troop of Petchenigs. A battle was fought

on the Dniepr banks near Lubetch, which resulted in the overthrow of

the usurper, who fled to Poland, leaving the throne of Kiev to his

triumphant rival.

Yaroslav did not remain long time in peaceable possession. Boleslas

“Khrabrie,” the warlike King of Poland, having by the Peace of

Bautzen composed his outstanding differences with the Germanic Kaiser

(Heinrich II.), burst into Russia at the head of a large army, defeated

Yaroslav on the banks of the Bug, and reimposed his son-in-law upon

the people of Kiev. The ousted prince withdrew to Novgorod, and but

for the insistance of his subjects would have sought sanctuary, as his

father had done under similar circumstances, in Skandinavian lands.

The Novgorodskie, not wishing to be left to the wrath of Sviatopalk,

kept their prince with them by the simple expedient of destroying all

the boats available for his flight. Sviatopalk himself smoothed the

way for a renewal of the strife on more equal terms. The Poles had

been distributed in scattered winter quarters throughout the province

of Kiev, and Boleslas himself had established his court in the city.

Possibly the Russian Kniaz was impatient of the prolonged presence of

the Poles in his lands, and deemed that heroic measures were needed to

hasten their departure; anyhow he devised and carried out the plan of

a general massacre of the unwelcome guests. Boleslas hastily left Kiev

with the remnant of his men, bearing with him as much treasure as he

could lay hands on, and retaining in his hold the Red Russian towns on

his border. The departure of the Poles brought as a consequence the

onfall of Yaroslav, and Sviatopalk was obliged to seek support among

the Petchenigs before venturing to take the field against his cousin.

[Sidenote: 1019] The two forces met near the banks of the Alta, and

there was waged a fierce and stubborn battle, the like of which, wrote

the Kievian chronicler, had never been seen in Russia. Towards evening

Yaroslav’s men gained the victory, and Sviatopalk, half-dead with

fatigue, delirious with fear, and unable to sit his horse, was borne

litter-wise through the whispering night in wild flight across a wild

country, hunted ever by phantom foemen, and moaning ever to his bearers

piteous entreaty for added speed. The fugitive checked his spent course

in the deserts of the Bohemian border, where he died miserably, and

contemporary legend, recalling the circumstances of his birth, asserted

that he was born for crime. In which case he fulfilled his purpose.

Yaroslav was now master of Kiev and Novgorod and Grand Prince of

Russia, but the family arrangements of Vladimir’s many heirs had not

yet adjusted themselves. From Isiaslav, Kniaz of Polotzk, sprang a

line of turbulent princes who contributed a fair share to the domestic

troubles of Russia during the next hundred years.[18] Still more

formidable for the time being was Mstislav, whose family portion

was Tmoutorakan, a province bordering on the Black Sea. [Sidenote:

(1016)] In conjunction with the Greek Imperial General Andronicus he

had driven the Khazars from the Tauride and put a finishing touch to

their existence as a European State. Other victories over the Tcherkess

tribes in his neighbourhood swelled both his ideas and his resources,

and he began to feel his remote steppe-girded province too small for

him. In 1023, while Yaroslav was away in the Souzdal country, Mstislav

burst with his warriors into the grand principality and seized upon

Tchernigov in the Sieverski plain. The harassed Grand Prince fled to

Novgorod--his usual city of refuge--and sent urgent messengers over the

Baltic to call in the ever-ready Varangians to his aid. In response

came a large force, led by one Hako (in the Russian Chronicle Yakun),

who has come down to posterity as suffering from sore eyes and wearing

a bandage over them broidered with gold--a human touch in the portrait

of one of these half-mythical seeming vikings. The avenging army came

into the Tchernigov land and met their foes on the banks of a small

river, the two forces sighting one another just as night was falling

and a nasty storm creeping upon them. As the storm broke over the Grand

Prince’s host, accompanied by thunder peals and torrents of rain,

out of the night there rushed in on them the war-men of the intrepid

Mstislav, who rivalled with his wild battle-shock the tumult of the

elements. In the darkness men fought hand to hand with a foe they could

not see; the storm in the heavens rolled away, but the humans fought

on, their arms flashing in the gleam of the stars, “a combat without

comparison, murderous, terrible, and truly frightful.”[19] A charge by

Mstislav and his body-guards decided the day--or rather the night--and

Yaroslav fled from the field of this epic struggle to his haven in

the North. Hakon of the sore eyes left on the ground his gold-wrought

bandage as a trophy for the victorious Tchernigovskie. Mstislav did not

push his advantage to the extent of depriving Yaroslav of his princely

dignity, and five years later a pact was made between the brothers

which left the younger in possession of the lands he had won east of

the Dniepr. Yaroslav was thus enabled to turn his attention to the

outlying regions of the realm, where his authority had lapsed during

the long civil strife. In the year 1030 Livland was again brought under

some sort of subjection, and the town of Youriev (the German Dorpat)

founded near Lake Peipus. The domestic troubles of Poland, where

Mieceslav II., son of Boleslas Khrabrie (who had died 1025), was waging

a hotly contested war with his brothers and the Kaiser Konrad II., gave

an opportunity for regaining the Red Russian towns which perennially

changed hands according to the respective strength and weakness of

the two countries. [Sidenote: 1031] Yaroslav, in conjunction with his

half-brother, invaded Poland and wrested back the lost territory. In

1034 died Mstislav, at the end of a day’s hunting, having shortly

before lost his only son Evstaf. Of all the sons of Vladimir this

intrepid warrior “with dark face and large eyes” seems most to have

enchained the imagination of the national chronicler.

Yaroslav, freed from the disquieting possibility of trouble which

Mstislav must always have presented, made himself still more secure

by seizing and imprisoning, on pretext of disaffection, Soudislav of

Pskov, another member of the princely house. Shortly afterwards he

was called upon to defend Kiev from an attack of the Petchenigs. Near

the walls of the city Yaroslav joined issue with the barbarians, his

vanguard consisting of Varangians, flanked right and left by the men

of Kiev and Novgorod. After a battle which lasted till evening the

Petchenigs broke and fled, leaving enormous numbers of dead on the

field, and losing many more in crossing the rivers which impeded their

flight. On the ground of this victory Yaroslav founded the Cathedral

of S. Sofia, extending at the same time the boundaries of Kiev so as

to include this building, and enclosing the city with a stone wall.

Well might the Kievians rejoice as they watched the new works, which

were alike the witness of their growing prosperity and a memorial of a

past danger; they had at last grasped their nettle, and the might of

the Petchenigs, which had hung so long like a menacing shadow ready

at any moment to ride out of the steppe a grim reality, was for ever

shattered. And as the new cathedral rose before them their hopes might

soar to a point which would raise the mother of Russian cities to the

level of Constantinople.

Amid their own congratulations and complacency came news of the

misfortunes of a neighbouring and rival state; possibly across the

border, through Krobatian and Drevlian lands, more probably by a less

direct route, by word of merchants from the Oder and Weichsel filtering

down from Novgorod or Polotzk, tidings would reach them of wild doings

in Poland. Mieceslav II. had “passed in battle and in storm”; and

diminished though his territories were under stress of German, Russian,

and Bohemian filchings, they were more than a handful for his widow

and youthful son to manage. Richense, daughter of Ehrenfrid, Pfalzgraf

of the Rhine, tries to play the Queen-mother with the support of a

hierarchy itself not yet firmly established; but she is no Olga,

moreover she is a German. The bishops are German too, and throne,

hierarchy, new religion, and all are involved in the whirlwind of a

reaction that scatters them in all directions, Richense to the court of

the Emperor in Saxony, her son, Kazimir, to France, where he enters the

service of Mother Church as a monk of the celebrated Abbey of Cluny.

Yaroslav, taking advantage of the weakness of his western neighbour,

began in 1040 a series of campaigns against the tribes which inhabited

the dense marsh and river-sected forests lying to the north-east of

Poland, between Russia and the Baltic. The Yatvyags first occupied his

attention, though it is doubtful if he acquired more than a transient

sway over them. He next turned the weight of his arms against the

Lit’uanians, upon a section of whom at least he imposed a tribute. The

year 1041 found him actually in Polish territory, in the province or

palatinate of Mazovia, which had separated from the lands of the Polish

crown--if such a designation can be used during an interregnum--under

the rule of a heathen noble named Mazlav, from whom the province took

its name. Meanwhile the force of the reaction in Poland had spent

itself, the bishops retook possession of their dioceses, and Kazimir

was fetched, with the Pope’s permission, from the peaceful seclusion

of the Burgundian monastery to the management of a country smouldering

with the embers of anarchy and religious persecution. Yaroslav seized

the opportunity to form an alliance with the young Duke of Poland,

by virtue of which the contested Galician or Red Russian March was

definitely ceded to the Grand Prince, who on his part helped Kazimir to

defeat the rebel Voevoda[20] of Mazovia and reannex that province to

his duchy. The good understanding between the princes was cemented by

the marriage of Kazimir with Mariya, sister of Yaroslav.

Russia was thus freed from the apprehension of trouble both on the

Polish frontier and on the side of the steppes, where the power of

the Petchenigs was effectively broken. A new war-cloud, however,

rose in the south, emanating from a quarrel among Greek and Russian

merchants at Constantinople, in which one of the latter was killed.

[Sidenote: 1043] Yaroslav demanded satisfaction from the Greek Emperor,

Constantine Monomachus, and not obtaining it, he sent an army against

the Greeks, confiding its direction to his eldest son Vladimir and a

boyarin named Vyatcha. Scorning the overtures for peace which came

at late moment from the frightened Emperor, the Russians met their

enemies in a naval fight, wherein the Greek fire and the inevitable

storm played their accustomed parts. Six thousand of Vladimir’s men

were forced to abandon their damaged vessels and attempt to make good

their retreat overland, led by Vyatcha, who would not desert them in

their extremity. Constantine, instead of resting content with the

victory which fortune had given him, or following it up with a vigorous

pursuit, satisfied himself with half-measures, returning in premature

triumph to his capital while he sent the remainder of his ships to

hunt the Russians out of the Bosphorus. Vladimir meanwhile had rallied

his fleet and turned fiercely at bay, destroying twenty-five of the

Byzantine vessels and killing their admiral. Consoled by this success

he returned home, carrying with him many prisoners. The division

which had attempted the land passage was less happy; overpowered by

a large Greek force near Varna, the survivors were taken captive to

Constantinople, where many of them, including the brave boyarin, were

deprived of their eyesight.

This was the last of the series of expeditions made by the early rulers

of Russia against Constantinople, expeditions which suggest a parallel

with those against Rome which exercised such a fatal fascination over

the Saxon and Franconian Emperors of Germany at the same period. Not

for many a long century were the Russian arms to push again across

the blue waters of the Danube into the land of their desire. In 1046

peace was formally concluded between the two countries, and the blinded

prisoners were allowed to return to their native land.

The remaining years of Yaroslav were years of peace and prosperity

within his realm. Allied with the Court of Poland by the double

marriage of his sister with Duke Kazimir, and of the latter’s sister

with his second son Isiaslav, he was in like manner connected with the

house of Arpad by the marriage of his youngest daughter Anastasia with

Andrew I. of Hungary; with Harold the Brave, afterwards King of Norway,

who espoused his eldest daughter Elizabeth; and with the royal family

of France by the marriage of his second daughter Anne with Henri I. And

not only by court alliances was the Russia of this period connected

with the other states of Europe. Commerce had made great strides in

the last half-hundred years, and Kiev, in the zenith of her fortunes,

attracted traders from many lands; besides her 300 churches she had

8 markets, there were separate quarters for Hungarian, Hollandish,

German, and Skandinavian merchants, and the Dniepr was constantly

covered with cargo vessels. Novgorod was another important centre of

trade and foreign intercourse. A more convenient medium of exchange,

always a stimulating factor in commerce, was gradually superseding the

hides and pelts which were the earliest articles of sale and barter;

the first step had been to substitute leather tokens cut from the skins

themselves, called _kounas_, from _kounitza_, a marten (being generally

cut from a marten pelt). These were replaced, as silver grew more

plentiful in the country, by coins of that metal, stamped with rude

representations of the reigning prince.

Following the time-hallowed custom of his forbears, Yaroslav in his

last days divided the lands of his realm among his surviving sons.

(Vladimir, the eldest, had died in 1052.) Isiaslav became, after his

father’s death, Grand Prince of Kiev, his four brothers being settled

respectively in the sub-provinces of Tchernigov, Péréyaslavl, Smolensk,

and Volhynia. Polotzk was still held by the other branch of the family.

Yaroslav died at Voutchigorod on the 19th February 1054. On a winter’s

day his corpse was borne in mournful procession along the snow-clad

road to Kiev, there to rest in a marble tomb in a side chapel of the

Cathedral of S. Sofia.

Under Yaroslav Russia enjoyed a prosperity and position that was lost

in the partitions and discords of his successors, and this circumstance

was probably responsible for the somewhat flattering estimate that was

formed of his character by subsequent chroniclers.[21] As patron of

Kiev and benefactor to the Church he was naturally glorious and good in

the eyes of Nestor, and by some writers he has been styled “the Russian

Charlemagne,” on account of the code of laws which he formulated for

his country. Concerning his piety, he lived in an age when much giving

from the State treasury to church or monastery counted for such, and it

is recorded of him that his dying words charged his sons to “treat each

other as brothers” and “have great tenderness” one for another. His own

brother still lay in the prison that was his living tomb for over a

score of years.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Kiev was subsequently invested with a past of respectable

antiquity, the consecration of its site being attributed to the Apostle

Andrew; it makes its entry on the pages of the _Chronicle_, however,

simply as a _gorodok_, or townlet.

[9] _Chronicle of Nestor._

[10] Schiemann, _Russland, Polen, und Livland_.

[11] Members of war council.

[12] _Kniaz_, Prince; _velikie-Kniaz_, Grand Prince.

[13] Now Iskorosk, on the Usha.

[14] Solov’ev.

[15] Karamzin.

[16] Old Ladoga.

[17] Old Skandinavian name for Russia.

[18] See genealogical table.

[19] _Chronique de Nestor._

[20] Although loth to introduce a fresh spelling for a word which has

already been rendered in some dozen or more forms by English, French,

and German historians, I have thought it best to follow the Russian

orthography of this Slavonic title.

[21] Karamzin, Solov’ev, Schiemann, Rambaud, _Chronique de Nestor_.