THE GRAND PRINCES OF VLADIMIR, AND THE INVASION
OF GENGHIS KHAN.
From 1212 to 1238.
Accession of Georges.--Famine.--Battle of Lipetsk.--Defeat of
Georges.--His Surrender.--Constantin Seizes the Scepter.--Exploits of
Mstislaf.--Imbecility of Constantin.--Death of Constantin.--Georges
III.--Invasion of Bulgaria.--Progress of the Monarchy.--Right of
Succession.--Commerce of the Dnieper.--Genghis Khan.--His Rise and
Conquests.--Invasion of Southern Russia.--Death of Genghis
Khan.--Succession of his Son Ougadai.--March of Bati.--Entrance into
Russia.--Utter Defeat of the Russians.
Moscow was the capital of a province then called Souzdal. North-west
of this province there was another large principality called
Vladimir, with a capital of the same name. North of these provinces
there was an extensive territory named Yaroslavle. Immediately after
the death of Vsevolod, a brother of the deceased monarch, named
Georges, ascended the throne with the assent of all the nobles of
Souzdal and Vladimir. At the same time his brother Constantin, prince
of Yaroslavle, claimed the crown. Eager partizans rallied around the
two aspirants. Constantin made the first move by burning the town of
Kostroma and carrying off the inhabitants as captives. Georges replied
by an equally sanguinary assault upon Rostof. Such, war has ever been.
When princes quarrel, being unable to strike each other, they wreak
their vengeance upon innocent and helpless villages, burning their
houses, slaying sons and brothers, and either dragging widows and
orphans into captivity or leaving them to perish of exposure and
starvation.
In this conflict Georges was victor, and he assigned to his brothers
and cousins the administration of the provinces of southern Russia.
Still the ancient annals give us nothing but a dreary record of war. A
very energetic prince arose, by the name of Mstislaf, who, for years,
strode over subjugated provinces, desolating them with fire and sword.
Another horrible famine commenced its ravages at this time, caused
principally by the desolations of war, throughout all northern and
eastern Russia. The starving inhabitants ate the bark of trees, leaves
and the most disgusting reptiles. The streets were covered with the
bodies of the dead, abandoned to the dogs. Crowds of skeleton men and
women wandered through the fields, in vain seeking food, and ever
dropping in the convulsions of death. Christian faith is stunned in
the contemplation of such woes, and yet it sees in them but the fruits
of man's depravity. The enigma of life can find no solution but in
divine revelation--and even that revelation does but show in what
direction the solution lies.
Mstislaf of Novgorod, encouraged by his military success, and
regardless of the woes of the populace, entered into an alliance with
Constantin, promising, with his aid, to drive Georges from the throne,
and to place the scepter in the hands of Constantin. The king sent an
army of ten thousand men against the insurgents. All over Russia there
was the choosing of sides, as prince after prince ranged his followers
under the banners of one or of the other of the combatants. At last
the two armies met upon the banks of the river Kza. The Russian
annalists say that the sovereign was surrounded with the banners of
thirty regiments, accompanied by a military band of one hundred and
forty trumpets and drums.
The insurgent princes, either alarmed by the power of the sovereign,
or anxious to spare the effusion of blood, proposed terms of
accommodation.
"It is too late to talk of peace," said Georges. "You are now as
fishes on the land. You have advanced too far, and your destruction is
inevitable."
The embassadors retired in sadness. Georges then assembled his
captains, and gave orders to form the troops in line of battle.
Addressing the troops, he said:
"Let no soldier's life be spared. Aim particularly at the officers.
The helmets, the clothes and the horses of the dead shall belong to
you. Let us not be troubled with any prisoners. The princes alone may
be taken captive, and reserved for public execution."
Both parties now prepared, with soundings of the trumpet and shoutings
of the soldiers, for combat. It was in the early dawn of the morning
that the celebrated battle of Lipetsk commenced. The arena of strife
was a valley, broken by rugged hills, on the head waters of the Don,
about two hundred miles south of Moscow. It was a gloomy day of wind,
and clouds and rain; and while the cruel tempest of man's passion
swept the earth, an elemental tempest wrecked the skies. From the
morning till the evening twilight the battle raged, inspired by the
antagonistic forces of haughty confidence and of despair. Darkness
separated the combatants, neither party having gained any decisive
advantage.
The night was freezing cold, a chill April wind sweeping the mists
over the heights, upon which the two hosts, exhausted and bleeding,
slept upon their arms, each fearing a midnight surprise. With the
earliest dawn of the next morning the battle was renewed; both armies
defiantly and simultaneously moving down from the hills to meet on the
plains. Mstislaf rode along the ranks of his troops, exclaiming:
"Let no man turn his head. Retreat now is destruction. Let us forget
our wives and children, and fight for our lives."
His soldiers, with shouts of enthusiasm, threw aside all encumbering
clothes, and uttering those loud outcries with which semi-barbarians
ever rush into battle, impetuously fell upon the advancing foe.
Mstislaf was a prince of herculean stature and strength. With a
battle-ax in his hands, he advanced before the troops, and it is
recorded that, striking on the right hand and the left, he cut a path
through the ranks of the enemy as a strong man would trample down the
grain. A wake of the dead marked his path. It was one of the most
deplorable of Russian battles, for the dispute had arrayed the son
against the father, brother against brother, friend against friend.
The victory, however, was now not for a moment doubtful. The royal
forces were entirely routed, and were pursued with enormous slaughter
by the victorious Mstislaf. Nearly ten thousand of the followers of
Georges were slain upon the field of battle. Georges having had three
horses killed beneath him, escaped, and on the fourth day reached
Vladimir, where he found only old men, women, children and
ecclesiastics, so entirely had he drained the country for the war. The
king himself was the first to announce to the citizens of Vladimir the
terrible defeat. Wan from fatigue and suffering, he rode in at the
gates, his hair disheveled, and his clothing torn. As he traversed the
streets, he called earnestly upon all who remained to rally upon the
walls for their defense. It was late in the afternoon when the king
reached the metropolis. During the night a throng of fugitives was
continually entering the city, wounded and bleeding. In the early
morning, the king assembled the citizens in the public square, and
urged them to a desperate resistance. But they, disheartened by the
awful reverse, exclaimed:
"Prince, courage can no longer save us. Our brethren have perished on
the field of battle. Those who have escaped are wounded, exhausted and
unarmed. We are unable to oppose the enemy."
Georges entreated them to make at least a show of resistance, that he
might open negotiations with the foe. Soon Mstislaf appeared, leading
his troops in solid phalanx, with waving banners and trumpet blasts,
and surrounded the city. In the night, a terrible conflagration burst
forth within the city, and his soldiers entreated him to take
advantage of the confusion for an immediate assault. The magnanimous
conqueror refused to avail himself of the calamity, and restrained the
ardor of his troops. The next morning, Georges despairing of any
further defense, rode from the gates into the camp of Mstislaf.
"You are victorious," said he. "Dispose of me and my fortunes as you
will. My brother Constantin will be obedient to your wishes."
The unhappy prince was sent into exile. Embarking, with his wife and
children, and a few faithful followers, in barges, at the head waters
of the Volga, he floated down the stream towards the Caspian Sea, and
disappeared for ever from the observation of history.
Constantin was now raised to the imperial throne through the energies
of Mstislaf. This latter prince returned to his domains in Novgorod,
and under the protection of the throne he rivaled the monarch in
splendor and power. Constantin established his capital at Vladimir,
about one hundred and fifty miles west of Moscow. The warlike
Mstislaf, greedy of renown, with the chivalry of a knight-errant,
sought to have a hand in every quarrel then raging far or near.
Southern Russia continued in a state of incessant embroilments; and
the princes of the provinces, but nominally in subjection to the
crown, lived in a state of interminable war. Occasionally they would
sheath the sword of civil strife and combine in some important
expedition against the Hungarians or the Poles.
But tranquillity reigned in the principality of Vladimir; and the
adjacent provinces, influenced by the pacific policy of the sovereign,
or overawed by his power, cultivated the arts of peace. Constantin,
however, was effeminate as well as peaceful. The tremendous energy of
Mstislaf had shed some luster upon him, and thus, for a time, it was
supposed that he possessed a share, no one knew how great, of that
extraordinary vigor which had placed him on the throne. But now,
Mstislaf was far away on bloody fields in Hungary, and the princes in
the vicinity of Vladimir soon found that Constantin had no spirit to
resent any of their encroachments. Enormous crimes were perpetrated
with impunity. Princes were assassinated, and the murderers seized
their castles and their scepters, while the imbecile Constantin,
instead of avenging such outrages, contented himself with shedding
tears, building churches, distributing alms, and kissing the relics of
the saints, which had been sent to him from Constantinople. Thus he
lived for several years, a superstitious, perhaps a pious man; but, so
utterly devoid of energy, of enlightened views respecting his duty as
a ruler, that the helpless were unprotected, and the wicked rioted
unpunished in crime. He died in the year 1219 at the early age of
thirty-three. Finding death approaching, he called his two sons to his
bedside, and exhorted them to live in brotherly affection, to be the
benefactors of widows and orphans, and especially to be the supporters
of religion. The wife of Constantin, imbibing his spirit, immediately
upon his death renounced the world, and retiring to the cloisters of a
convent, immured herself in its glooms until she also rejoined her
husband in the spirit land.
Georges II., son of Vsevelod, now ascended the throne. He signalized
the commencement of his reign by a military excursion to oriental
Bulgaria. Descending the Volga in barges to the mouth of the Kama, he
invaded, with a well-disciplined army, the realm he wished to
subjugate. The Russians approached the city of Ochel. It was strongly
fortified with palisades and a double wall of wood. The assailants
approached, led by a strong party with hatchets and torches. They were
closely followed by archers and lancers to drive the defenders from
the ramparts. The palisades were promptly cut down and set on fire.
The flames spread to the wooden walls; and over the burning ruins the
assailants rushed into the city. A high wind arose, and the whole
city, whose buildings were constructed of wood only, soon blazed like
a volcano. The wretched citizens had but to choose between the swords
of the Russians and the fire. Many, in their despair, plunged their
poignards into the bosoms of their wives and children, and then buried
the dripping blade in their own hearts. Multitudes of the Russians,
even, encircled by the flames in the narrow streets, miserably
perished. In a few hours the city and nearly all of its male
inhabitants were destroyed. Extensive regions of the country were then
ravaged, and Bulgaria, as a conquered province, was considered as
annexed to the Russian empire. Georges enriched with plunder and
having extorted oaths of allegiance from most of the Bulgarian
princes, reascended the Volga to Vladimir. As he was on his return he
laid the foundations of a new city, Nijni Novgorod, at the confluence
of two important streams about two hundred miles west of Moscow. The
city remains to the present day.
It will be perceived through what slow and vacillating steps the
Russian monarchy was established. In the earliest dawn of the kingdom,
Yaroslaf divided Russia into five principalities. To his eldest son he
gave the title of Grand Prince, constituting him, by his will, chief
or monarch of the whole kingdom. His younger brothers were placed over
the principalities, holding them as vassals of the grand prince at
Kief, and transmitting the right of succession to their children.
Ysiaslaf, and some of his descendants, men of great energy, succeeded
in holding under more or less of restraint the turbulent princes, who
were simply entitled _princes_, to distinguish them from the _Grand
Prince_ or monarch. These princes had under them innumerable vassal
lords, who, differing in wealth and extent of dominions, governed,
with despotic sway, the serfs or peasants subject to their power. No
government could be more simple than this; and it was the necessary
resultant of those stormy times.
But in process of time feeble grand princes reigned at Kief. The
vassal princes, strengthening themselves in alliances with one
another, or seeking aid from foreign semi-civilized nations, such as
the Poles, the Danes, the Hungarians, often imposed laws upon their
nominal sovereign, and not unfrequently drove him from the throne, and
placed upon it a monarch of their own choice. Sviatopolk II. was
driven to the humiliation of appearing to defend himself from
accusation before the tribunal of his vassal princes. Monomaque and
Mstislaf I., with imperial energy, brought all the vassal princes in
subjection to their scepter, and reigned as monarchs. But their
successors, not possessing like qualities, were unable to maintain the
regal dignity; and gradually Kief sank into a provincial town, and the
scepter was transferred to the principality of Souzdal.
André, of Souzdal, abolished the system of _appanages_, as it was
called, in which the principalities were in entire subjection to the
princes who reigned over them, these princes only rendering vassal
service to the sovereign. He, in their stead, appointed governors over
the distant provinces, who were his agents to execute his commands.
This measure gave new energy and consolidation to the monarchy, and
added incalculable strength to the regal arm. But the grand princes,
who immediately succeeded André, had not efficiency to maintain this
system, and the princes again regained their position of comparative
independence. Indeed, they were undisputed sovereigns of their
principalities, bound only to recognize the superior rank of the grand
prince, and to aid him, when called upon, as allies.
In process of time the princes of the five great principalities,
Pereiaslavle, Tchernigof, Kief, Novgorod and Smolensk, were
subdivided, through the energies of warlike nobles, into minor
appanages, or independent provinces, independent in every thing save
feudal service, a service often feebly recognized and dimly defined.
The sovereigns of the great provinces assumed the title of Grand
Princes. The smaller sovereigns were simply called Princes. Under
these princes were the petty lords or nobles. The spirit of all evil
could not have devised a system better calculated to keep a nation
incessantly embroiled in war. The princes of Novgorod claimed the
right of choosing their grand prince. In all the other provinces the
scepter was nominally hereditary. In point of fact, it was only
hereditary when the one who ascended the throne had sufficient vigor
of arm to beat back his assailing foes. For two hundred years, during
nearly all of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, it is with
difficulty we can discern any traces of the monarchy. The history of
Russia during this period is but a history of interminable battles
between the grand princes, and petty, yet most cruel and bloody,
conflicts between the minor princes.
The doctrine of the hereditary descent of the governing power was the
cause of nearly all these conflicts. A semi-idiot or a brutal ruffian
was thus often found the ruler of millions of energetic men. War and
bloodshed were, of course, the inevitable result. This absurdity was,
perhaps, a necessary consequence of the ignorance and brutality of the
times. But happy is that nation which is sufficiently enlightened to
choose its own magistrates and to appreciate the sanctity of the
ballot-box. The history of the United States thus far, with its
elective administrations, is a marvel of tranquillity, prosperity and
joy, as it is recorded amidst the bloody pages of this world's annals.
According to the ancient custom of Russia, the right of succession
transferred the crown, not to the oldest son, but to the brother or
the most aged member belonging to the family connections of the
deceased prince. The energetic Monomaque violated this law by
transferring the crown to his son, when, by custom, it should have
passed to the prince of Tchernigof. Hence, for ages, there was
implacable hatred between these two houses, and Russia was crimsoned
with the blood of a hundred battle-fields.
Nearly all the commerce of Russia, at this time, was carried on
between Kief and Constantinople by barges traversing the Dnieper and
the Black Sea. These barges went strongly armed as a protection
against the barbarians who crowded the banks of the river. The stream,
being thus the great thoroughfare of commerce, received the popular
name of _The Road to Greece_. The Russians exported rich furs in
exchange for the cloths and spices of the East. As the Russian power
extended toward the rising sun, the Volga and the Caspian Sea became
the highways of a prosperous, though an interrupted, commerce. It
makes the soul melancholy to reflect upon these long, long ages of
rapine, destruction and woe. But for this, had man been true to
himself, the whole of Russia might now have been almost a garden of
Eden, with every marsh drained, every stream bridged, every field
waving with luxuriance, every deformity changed into an object of
beauty, with roads and canals intersecting every mile of its
territory, with gorgeous cities embellishing the rivers' banks and the
mountain sides, and cottages smiling upon every plain. Man has no foe
to his happiness so virulent and deadly as his brother man. The
heaviest curse is human depravity.
We now approach, in the early part of the thirteenth century, one of
the most extraordinary events which has occurred in the history of
man: the sweep of Tartar hordes over all of northern Asia and Europe,
under their indomitable leader, Genghis Khan.
In the extreme north of the Chinese empire, just south of Irkoutsk, in
the midst of desert wilds, unknown to Greek or Roman, there were
wandering tribes called Mogols. They were a savage, vagabond race,
without any fixed habitations, living by the chase and by herding
cattle. The chief of one of these tribes, greedy of renown and power,
conquered several of the adjacent tribes, and brought them into very
willing subjection to his sway. War was a pastime for their fierce
spirits, and their bold chief led them to victory and abundant booty.
This barbarian conqueror, Bayadour by name, died in the prime of
life, surrendering his wealth and power to his son, Temoutchin, then
but thirteen years of age. This boy thus found himself lord of forty
thousand families. Still he was but a subordinate prince or khan,
owing allegiance to the Tartar sovereign of northern China. Brought up
by his mother in the savage simplicity of a wandering shepherd's hut,
he developed a character which made him the scourge of the world, and
one of its most appalling wonders. The most illustrious monarchies
were overturned by the force of his arms, and millions of men were
brought into subjection to his power.
At the death of his father, Bayadour, many of the subjugated clans
endeavored to break the yoke of the boy prince. Temoutchin, with the
vigor and military sagacity of a veteran warrior, assembled an army of
thirty thousand men, defeated the rebels, and plunged their leaders,
seventy in number, each into a caldron of boiling water. Elated by
such brilliant success, the young prince renounced allegiance to the
Tartar sovereign and assumed independence. Terrifying his enemies by
severity, rewarding his friends with rich gifts, and overawing the
populace by claims of supernatural powers, this extraordinary young
man commenced a career of conquest which the world has never seen
surpassed.
Assembling his ferocious hordes, now enthusiastically devoted to his
service, upon the banks of a rapid river, he took a solemn oath to
share with them all the bitter and the sweet which he should encounter
in the course of his life. The neighboring prince of Kerait ventured
to draw the sword against him. He forfeited his head for his audacity,
and his skull, trimmed with silver, was converted into a drinking cup.
At the close of this expedition, his vast army were disposed in nine
different camps, upon the head waters of the river Amour. Each
division had tents of a particular color. On a festival day, as all
were gazing with admiration upon their youthful leader, a hermit, by
previous secret appointment, appeared as a prophet from heaven.
Approaching the prince, the pretended embassador from the celestial
court, declared, in a loud voice,
"God has given the whole earth to Temoutchin. As the sovereign of the
world, he is entitled to the name of Genghis Khan (_the great
prince_)."
No one was disposed to question the divine authority of this envoy
from the skies. Shouts of applause rent the air, and chiefs and
warriors, with unanimous voice, expressed their eagerness to follow
their leader wherever he might guide them. Admiration of his prowess
and the terror of his arms spread far and wide, and embassadors
thronged his tent from adjacent nations, wishing to range themselves
beneath his banners. Even the monarch of Thibet, overawed, sent
messengers to offer his service as a vassal prince to Genghis Khan.
The conqueror now made an irruption into China proper, and with his
wolfish legions, clambering the world-renowned wall, routed all the
armies raised to oppose him, and speedily was master of ninety cities.
Finding himself encumbered with a crowd of prisoners, he selected a
large number of the aged and choked them to death. The sovereign,
thoroughly humiliated, purchased peace by a gift of five hundred young
men, five hundred beautiful girls, three thousand horses and an
immense quantity of silks and gold. Genghis Khan retired to the north
with his treasures; but soon again returned, and laid siege to Pekin,
the capital of the empire. With the energies of despair, though all
unavailingly, the inhabitants attempted their defense. It was the year
1215 when Pekin fell before the arms of the Mogol conqueror. The whole
city was immediately committed to flames, and the wasting
conflagration raged for a whole month, when nothing was left of the
once beautiful and populous city but a heap of ashes.
Leaving troops in garrison throughout the subjugated country, the
conqueror commenced his march towards the west, laden with the spoils
of plundered cities. Like the rush of a torrent, his armies swept
along until they entered the vast wilds of Turkomania. Here the "great
and the mighty Saladin" had reigned, extending his sway from the
Caspian Sea to the Ganges, dictating laws even to the Caliph at
Bagdad, who was the Pope of the Mohammedans. Mahomet II. now held the
throne, a prince so haughty and warlike, that he arrogated the name of
the second Alexander the Great. With two such spirits heading their
armies, a horrible war ensued. The capital of this region, Bokhara,
had attained a very considerable degree of civilization, and was
renowned for its university, where the Mohammedan youth, of noble
families, were educated. The city, after an unavailing attempt at
defense, was compelled to capitulate. The elders of the metropolis
brought the keys and laid them at the feet of the conqueror. Genghis
Khan rode contemptuously on horseback into the sacred mosque, and
seizing the Alcoran from the altar, threw it upon the floor and
trampled it beneath the hoofs of his steed. The whole city was
inhumanly reduced to ashes.
From Bokhara he advanced to Samarcande. This city was strongly
fortified, and contained a hundred thousand soldiers within its walls,
besides an immense number of elephants trained to fight. The city was
soon taken. Thirty thousand were slain, and thirty thousand carried
into perpetual slavery. All the adjacent cities soon shared a similar
fate. For three years the armies of Genghis Khan ravaged the whole
country between the Aral lake and the Indus, with such fearful
devastation that for six hundred years the region did not recover from
the calamity. Mahomet II., pursued by his indefatigable foe, fled to
one of the islands of the Caspian Sea, where he perished in paroxysms
of rage and despair.
Genghis Khan having thoroughly subdued this whole region, now sent a
division of his army, under two of his most distinguished generals,
across the Caspian Sea to subjugate the regions on the western shore.
Here, as before, victory accompanied their standards, and, with
merciless severity, they swept the whole country to the sea of Azof.
The tidings of their advance, so bloody, so resistless, spread into
Russia, exciting universal terror. The conquerors, elated with
success, rushed on over the plains of Russia, and were already pouring
down into the valley of the Dnieper. Mstislaf, prince of Galitch,
already so renowned for his warlike exploits, was eager to measure
arms with those soldiers, the terror of whose ravages now filled the
world. He hurriedly assembled all the neighboring princes at Kief, and
urged immediate and vigorous coöperation to repel the common foe. The
Russian army was promptly rendezvoused on the banks of the Dnieper,
preparatory to its march. Another large army was collected by the
Russian princes who inhabited the valley of the Dniester. In a
thousand barges they descended the river to the Black Sea. Then
entering the Dnieper they ascended the stream to unite with the main
army waiting impatiently their arrival.
On the 21st of May, the whole force was put in motion, and after a
march of nine days, met the Tartar army on the banks of the river
Kalets. The waving banners and the steeds of the Tartar host, covering
the plains as far as the eye could extend, in numbers apparently
countless, presented an appalling spectacle. Many of the Russian
leaders were quite in despair; others, young, ardent, inexperienced,
were eager for the fight. The battle immediately commenced, and the
combatants fought with all the ferocity which human energies could
engender. But the Russians were, in the end, routed entirely. The
Tartars drove the bleeding fugitives in wild confusion before them
back to the Dnieper. Never before had Russia encountered so frightful
a disaster. The whole army was destroyed. Not one tenth of their
number escaped that field of massacre. Seven princes, and seventy of
the most illustrious nobles were among the slain. The Tartars followed
up their victory with their accustomed inhumanity, and, as if it were
their intention to depopulate the country, swept it in all directions,
putting the inhabitants indiscriminately to the sword. They acted upon
the maxim which they ever proclaimed, "The conquered can never be the
friends of the conquerors; and the death of the one is essential to
the safety of the other."
The whole of southern Russia trembled with terror; and men, women and
children, in utter helplessness, with groans and cries fled to the
churches, imploring the protection of God. That divine power which
alone could aid them, interposed in their behalf. For some unknown
reason, Genghis Khan recalled his troops to the shores of the Caspian,
where this blood-stained conqueror, in the midst of his invincible
armies, dictated laws to the vast regions he had subjected to his
will. This frightful storm having left utter desolation behind it,
passed away as rapidly as it had approached. Scathed as by the
lightnings of heaven, the whole of southern Russia east of the Dnieper
was left smoking like a furnace.
The nominal king, Georges II., far distant in the northern realms of
Souzdal and Vladimir, listened appalled to the reports of the tempest
raging over the southern portion of the kingdom; and when the dark
cloud disappeared and its thunders ceased, he congratulated himself in
having escaped its fury. After the terrible battle of Kalka, six years
passed before the locust legions of the Tartars again made their
appearance; and Russia hoped that the scourge had disappeared for
ever. In the year 1227, Genghis Khan died. It has been estimated that
the ambition of this one man cost the lives of between five and six
millions of the human family. He nominated as his successor his oldest
son Octai, and enjoined it upon him never to make peace but with
vanquished nations. Ambitious of being the conqueror of the world,
Octai ravaged with his armies the whole of northern China. In the
heart of Tartary he reared his palace, embellished with the highest
attainments of Chinese art.
Raising an army of three hundred thousand men, the Tartar sovereign
placed his nephew Bati in command, and ordered him to bring into
subjection all the nations on the northern shores of the Caspian Sea,
and then to continue his conquests throughout all the expanse of
northern Russia. A bloody strife of three years planted his banners
upon every cliff and through all the defiles of the Ural mountains,
and then the victor plunging down the western declivities of this
great natural barrier between Europe and Asia, established his troops,
for winter quarters, in the valley of the Volga. To strike the region
with terror, he burned the capital city of Bulgaria and put all the
inhabitants to the sword. Early in the spring of the year 1238, with
an army, say the ancient annalists, "as innumerable as locusts," he
crossed the Volga, and threading many almost impenetrable forests,
after a march, in a north-west direction, of about four hundred miles,
entered the province of Rezdan just south of Souzdal. He then sent an
embassage to the king and his confederate princes, saying:
"If you wish for peace with the Tartars you must pay us an annual
tribute of one tenth of your possessions."
The heroic reply was returned,
"When you have slain us all, you can then take all that we have."
Bati, at the head of his terrible army, continued his march through
the populous province of Rezdan, burning every dwelling and
endeavoring, with indiscriminate massacre, to exterminate the
inhabitants. City after city fell before them until they approached
the capital. This they besieged, first surrounding it with palisades
that it might not be possible for any of the inhabitants to escape.
The innumerable host pressed the siege day and night, not allowing the
defenders one moment for repose. On the sixteenth day, after many had
been slain and all the citizens were in utter exhaustion from toil
and sleeplessness, they commenced the final assault with ladders and
battering rams. The walls of wood were soon set on fire, and, through
flame and smoke, the demoniac assailants rushed into the city.
Indiscriminate massacre ensued of men, women and children, accompanied
with the most revolting cruelty. The carnage continued for many hours,
and, when it ceased, the city was reduced to ashes, and not one of its
inhabitants was left alive.
The conquerors then rushed on to Moscow. Here the tempest of battle
raged for a few days, and then Moscow followed in the footsteps of
Rezdan.