ANDREI BOGOLYUBOFF
In 1151 the Kief prince and King Geiza of Hungary attacked Vladimirko
near Peremysl, where, though hemmed in by the armies, he managed to
escape to the town with a single attendant. He informed the king
straightway, that, mortally wounded and dying, he begged him for peace
and forgiveness. He sent also, through agents, great presents and
bribes to Geiza’s attendants and to the archbishop. “Let me not die
without peace or pardon,” implored he. “Great is my sin, but forgive
me.”
Notwithstanding all protests from Izyaslav, peace and pardon were
granted, Vladimirko promising to return the towns seized from Izyaslav,
and to be his ally, both in defeat and in triumph. Vladimirko was lying
in bed, as if mortally wounded, and seemed to dread his last hour, then
approaching.
When King Geiza was sending officials with a cross, which the dying man
was to kiss, Izyaslav objected with anger. “That man jests with every
oath,” said he. “It is vain to send a cross to Vladimirko.” “This is
the very wood on which died Christ our Lord,” explained Geiza. “By
God’s will it came to Saint Stephen, my ancestor. If Vladimirko kisses
this cross, survives, and breaks his oath, I will lay down my life, or
capture Galitch and give it to thee. I cannot kill a man on his
death-bed.”
Izyaslav yielded, but Mystislav, his son, who was present, added these
words: “He will break the oath surely, and I repeat here before this
holy cross, forget not thy word, O King of Hungary, but come again with
thy warriors to Galitch, and do what thou hast promised.”
“If Vladimirko breaks his oath,” replied Geiza, “I will ask thy father
to help me in Galitch, as he has asked me up to this time.” Vladimirko
kissed the cross to do all that he had promised.
On his way home Izyaslav sent posadniks to take possession of the towns
which were to be returned to him. These men came back quickly with news
that not one town had been given to them—one half of the oath was now
broken. On learning that Yuri was marching against Izyaslav, Vladimirko
at once sent troops to help Yuri, and thus broke the rest of his oath.
He returned home only when the Grand Prince was marching against him a
second time.
Izyaslav sent Borislavitch, his boyar, who had witnessed the oath on
the holy cross of Saint Stephen, to demand the towns promised. “Say to
Izyaslav,” said the Galitch prince, “that he attacked me unawares and
perfidiously, that he brought a foreign king with him, and that I will
either lay down my life, or avenge the wrong done me.” “But, thou hast
taken an oath to the king and to Izyaslav,” said the boyar. “Wilt thou
foreswear the cross?” “Oh, that little cross!” retorted Vladimirko.
“Though that cross be small it is mighty,” said the boyar. “Men have
told thee that Christ the Lord died on that wood, and that thou wouldst
not live if thy promises were broken. Dost remember?” “I remember that
ye spoke many words to me then, but leave this place now and go back to
thy Izyaslav.”
While the boyar was leaving the courtyard, Vladimirko started for
vespers, but halted to ridicule him. When, on his way back from the
church, the prince reached the spot where he had stood to revile
Borislavitch, he call out on a sudden: “Some one has struck me on the
shoulder!” He could not move his legs, and would have fallen had men
not seized him. He was borne to his chambers and placed at once in a
hot bath, but he grew rapidly worse, and died that same night.
Borislavitch, who had passed the night at a village by the wayside, was
roused hurriedly next morning at daybreak, and bidden to wait till the
prince should recall him. Some hours later a second message came,
asking him to return. When he reappeared at Vladimirko’s palace,
servants clothed in black came out to meet him. In the chief seat was
Yaroslav, son of Vladimirko, dressed in black; his boyars also were in
black, every man of them. Yaroslav burst into tears as he looked at the
envoy, who learned at once how Vladimirko had died in the night, though
in perfect health a few hours earlier. “God has shown his will,” said
Yaroslav; “thou art called back to hear these words from me. Go thou to
Izyaslav, bow down to him and say from me: ‘God has taken my father, be
thou in his place. There were questions between thee and him, those
questions the Lord will judge as he pleases. God has taken my father
and left me here in place of him. His warriors and attendants are all
at my order. I salute thee, O father, receive me as thou dost
Mystislav, thy son. Let him ride at one of thy stirrups, and I with my
forces will ride at the other.’”
The boyar went home with this message, which seems to have been sent to
win time and lull Izyaslav, for no towns were returned, and all things
remained as they had been.
Hence, in 1153, the Grand Prince again moved against Galitch. The two
forces met at Terebovl, but the battle was strangely indecisive as to
victory, though its results were more useful to Yaroslav than to the
Grand Prince. One part of the Kief force defeated one part of
Yaroslav’s army, while the other part of those forces was badly beaten
and pursued by the Galitch men. Izyaslav, impetuous as usual, broke the
ranks of his opponents and drove them far from the first place of
onset, but his brothers and allies were beaten, and hopelessly
scattered.
Izyaslav, having no forces with which to continue the struggle,
returned to Kief and abandoned all plans against Galitch. Some months
later he married a Georgian princess, and died shortly after, 1154.
Kief and the south mourned greatly for this prince, and most of all
mourned Vyatcheslav his uncle. “Thou art where I ought to be, but
against God all are powerless,” sobbed the old man, bending over the
coffin.
If in Kief men were saddened by this death, they rejoiced in Chernigoff
immensely. Izyaslav, son of David, who yearned for Kief as a man yearns
for her of whom he is desperately enamoured, set out for the city at
once, but was stopped at the Dnieper by Vyatcheslav, who sent this
inquiry: “Why hast thou come? Who has called thee? Go back to thy
Chernigoff.” “I wish to weep over my cousin. I was far from him when he
died. Let me weep at his coffin,” implored Izyaslav. By the advice of
the boyars, and the son of the dead prince, this request was rejected.
They dared not trust the son of David, and were waiting impatiently for
Rostislav to take the place of his brother.
Prompt action was taken meanwhile to divide the Chernigoff cousins.
Vyatcheslav sent for Sviatoslav, son of Vsevolod, who came at once,
without knowledge of his uncle’s death. The Smolensk prince appeared at
the earliest moment, and all felt relieved when Rostislav sat in the
place of his brother, as a son and subordinate of Vyatcheslav, the
Grand Prince, though really commanding. “Act,” said the Kief men, “as
did thy brother, and Kief will be thine till thy death hour.”
The first act of Rostislav was a settlement with Sviatoslav, son of
Vsevolod. “I give thee Turoff and Pinsk,” said he to this nephew,
“because thou didst come to my father, I give thee good lands for that
act of thine.” Sviatoslav took this large gift with gladness. There was
need to attach him firmly, since his uncles of Chernigoff were treating
already with Yuri, whose son Glaib was now marching on Pereyaslavl with
a strong force of Polovtsi. Rostislav sent his son straightway to that
city with assistance. The Polovtsi had attacked, but at sight of Kief
warriors they withdrew beyond the Sula. Rostislav resolved then to
march on Chernigoff, and crossing the Dnieper he was ready to move
forward when a courier galloped up with the message: “Vyatcheslav, thy
uncle, is dead!”
After the prince had been interred with great honor, Rostislav went
back to the army and held a council: “Return to the capital,” said the
Kief boyars, who wished to be sure of the offices. “Settle there with
the people, and begin to rule anew well supported. If Yuri comes, make
peace or war, as need dictates.” Rostislav did not take their advice,
but moved on Chernigoff, sending this message first to Izyaslav, son of
David: “Wilt thou kiss the cross to reign in Chernigoff, while I am in
Kief?” “I know not what I have done to make thee march against me. If
thou come, we shall have that which God gives,” was the answer.
But this far-seeing son of David had sent Polovtsi under Glaib to
Pereyaslavl, and was in fact warring at that time with Rostislav. He
now joined Glaib with great promptness. Rostislav, finding no zeal in
Kief boyars, and thinking himself outnumbered and powerless, lost
courage, and discussed terms of peace with the son of David. Such
indecision roused Mystislav, son of the recent Grand Prince, who left
his uncle with these words: “Soon neither thou nor I will have any
place.” Rostislav, deserted by his nephew, and outflanked by the
Polovtsi, fought two days, and then fled, saving his life with much
difficulty. The Polovtsi turned now toward Kief, which they threatened.
“I wish to go to you,” was the message sent by Izyaslav to Kief
citizens. The capital was helpless, Izyaslav was the one man to save
it. “Come thou to Kief, lest the Polovtsi take us. Thou art our prince,
come at once,” was the quick answer.
Izyaslav needed no second call. He appeared, took the throne of Kief,
and sent Glaib, son of Yuri, to Pereyaslavl. When Yuri heard that
Izyaslav, his nephew, was dead, and that Rostislav, his other nephew,
was in Kief, he set out with strong forces immediately, and was nearing
Smolensk, for which he intended the first blow, when he learned that
Vyatcheslav, his brother, was dead; that Rostislav was defeated, that
Izyaslav, son of David, was reigning in Kief, and Glaib his own son,
was prince in Pereyaslavl.
Rostislav, who had reached Smolensk and had collected men, was marching
to meet Yuri. Each now wished peace with the other. Yuri was hastening
to Kief, which he coveted beyond everything else. Rostislav, who had no
desire at that juncture for Kief, was glad to agree with his uncle, and
they made peace with apparent sincerity. Yuri continued his march
toward Kief, and Rostislav retired to his own capital. Near Storodub,
Yuri met his old ally, Sviatoslav, son of Oleg, with whom was
Vsevolod’s son, Sviatoslav, who appeared now with a prayer for
reinstatement. “In days past I lost my mind altogether. Forgive me.”
These were his words to Yuri. The son of Oleg interceded, and Yuri gave
pardon, making Sviatoslav kiss the cross not to desert either him, or
the son of Oleg. All three set out then for Chernigoff.
Before reaching that city the son of Oleg sent the Kief prince this
message: “Go out of Kief, brother, Yuri is marching against thee.”
Izyaslav was unwilling to leave Kief. A second message came, but he
took no note of it. Thereupon Yuri sent these words: “Kief is my
inheritance, not thine.” Without right, and without the special favor
of the people, Izyaslav could not remain, so he answered: “I am here
not of my own will; the Kief people sent for me. Kief is thine, but
harm me not.” Yuri made peace with him and entered Kief, 1155, with
four sons, whom he seated in regions about there,—Andrei in Vyshgorod,
Boris in Turoff; Vassilko in the Ros country, and Glaib remained in
Pereyaslavl.
Thus the succession of Kief fell at last to the oldest man of the
family. The heirs of Mystislav the Great could not stand against the
seniority of Yuri their uncle. David’s descendants had dropped out
still earlier; those of Oleg had perished. Yuri’s seniority now
received perfect recognition; he had broken through every claim and
given victory once more to the right of seniority. Once more and for
the last time appeared a perfect reëstablishment of the old regime of
Kief dominion, but in the person of Yuri it ended forever. In this was
the fateful position of the last son of Monomach: Yuri Dolgoruki stood
on the very line dividing the old from the new time in Russia. Even in
the early days of this unresisted establishment of Yuri in Kief, there
was dissatisfaction, for it was quickly manifest how unacquainted he
was with the state of things there, and with the minds of the people.
Though perhaps not wantonly cruel, according to the standards of that
age, he was grasping and selfish, but as his grandfather, Monomach, was
the most popular prince in Russian history, and Mystislav the Great,
his father, was second only to the renowned Monomach, he, Dolgoruki,
was endured as Prince of Kief, because of his family position. He held
the office until death came to him, two years later, 1157, just before
an effort was to have been made to expel him.
Yuri, when he became Grand Prince, wishing to keep Andrei near him, had
given this favorite son the fortified town of Vyshgorod, fifteen versts
distant from Kief, but Andrei was ambitious, and soon became
dissatisfied with his humble and dependent position. Therefore he left
Vyshgorod secretly and went to Vladimir, his birthplace, taking with
him all his belongings and the miraculous image of the Mother of God
painted, according to legend, by Saint Luke, and greatly valued by
Russians.
This holy image had been brought from Tsargrad to Kief, especially for
Yuri, and he had placed it in a cathedral in Vyshgorod.
When Andrei, with the help of the monks, secured the image, he intended
to place it in a church in Rostoff, but after leaving Vladimir, and
when ten versts beyond that city, the horses drawing the vehicle
containing the holy image stopped suddenly, and could not be made to
cross the river. Several times the horses were changed, but with no
result. Thereupon Andrei declared to the people present that the
previous night the Mother of God had appeared to him in a vision with a
charter in her hand, and had told him to put her image in a church in
Vladimir.
The procession turned back at once, and the image was placed in the
Vladimir church. Andrei commanded a church and monastery to be built on
the spot where the Virgin had made herself manifest. He called this
place Bogolyuboff, which means the love of God, and from it he received
his own name later on. Henceforth all deeds of valor and prowess, and
successes of every kind were ascribed to the miraculous image.
Yuri did not urge Andrei to return to Vyshgorod, nor did he insist upon
his restoring the holy painting. Andrei could not have done so, in any
case, for all people believed that the Mother of God had selected
Vladimir as the home of her image.
After Yuri’s death his territory was divided, and Mystislav assumed the
title of Grand Prince of Kief, though in reality there ceased to be any
Grand Principality of Kief.
Born in the north, the city of Vladimir was dear to Andrei. Only
through necessity did he go from it to serve in the various wars waged
by his father. From youth, Andrei was famous as a warrior, and was the
chief and right hand of Yuri. Prompt, energetic and resolute, he loved
to be in the front rank of every battle, and on a mighty horse to tear
through the heart of the enemy. He was greatly distinguished in war,
excelling in management, in the knowledge of details, and in the power
of going at once to the very root of a question. No matter what he
undertook, he always proved himself a master.
In 1169 Andrei, becoming greatly dissatisfied with Mystislav’s
management in Kief, formed a coalition of eleven princes, and marched
with a large force against him. After three days Kief was taken by
assault; during three more days the place was pillaged, the victors, in
the frenzy of triumph, forgetting that they were Russians and that Kief
was a Russian city. Everything of value, including the contents of
churches, was carried away.
Through continual civil wars, and the increased power of wandering
hordes, a condition of any permanency had become impossible, and the
interest which Yuri took in Kief was not shared by Andrei. Yuri had
founded Suzdal, but, notwithstanding that fact, he had spent most of
his life in an effort to become Grand Prince of Kief. Upon the decline
of Kief, Suzdal, in the basin of the Volga, became the chief city, but
loving neither Suzdal nor Rostoff, Andrei determined to make Vladimir
the capital of Russia. The majesty of buildings had always attracted
him, and he now invited from every part of Russia, not only skilled
workers in stone and in wood, but clever craftsmen of all kinds. In
Bogolyuboff he established many artificers; a whole ward was occupied
by masters in silver and gold work, and makers of holy images. He
brought in not only Russian artists, but artists from other lands, from
Tsargrad and Italy. The chroniclers of those days were astonished at
the great number of these persons.
Andrei spared neither treasure nor labor in ornamenting Vladimir.
Remembering his ancestor, who had adorned Kief with the Golden Gate and
the Tithe Church, he determined that his birthplace should equal Kief,
the mother of Russian cities, hence he built the Assumption Cathedral,
which was esteemed at that time a marvel, and during centuries it
served in the North as a model for similar structures. The Assumption
Cathedral in Moscow, once the place for crowning the Tsars of Russia,
and where the Emperors are now crowned, was built on this model. He
erected the Golden, as well as the Silver Gate, called thus because the
church dome at one gate was of gold, while at the other it was of
silver.
The city of Vladimir, adorned with beautiful buildings, and exalted by
the presence of the marvelous image, became Andrei’s residence, and,
because of the image and the residence, also the capital city. In spite
of the opposition of boyars in Rostoff and Suzdal, the Assumption
Cathedral of Vladimir became the main sanctuary of the Russian land,
and gave primacy to the city. The North was no longer the land of
Rostoff and Suzdal, it was mentioned more and more frequently as
Vladimir. This Vladimir country included what are known now as the
governments of Vladimir, Kostroma, Yaroslavl, Moscow, Ryazan, Tuer,
Nizni-Novgorod, Bailozero, in other words what is really Great Russia.
From time immemorial, in Russia the only place held in high honor was a
place with a sanctuary. The people revered Kief, because the Christian
faith had first been accepted there. In Kief there were relics and holy
places and there also was the monastery in which the great monks
Antonio and Fedosia had lived. Till Andrei’s day, the immense northern
land beyond the forest contained nothing sacred. Now two images, one
made by Luke the Evangelist, and known as the Vladimir Mother of God,
the other that of the Holy Virgin as she made herself manifest to
Andrei in a vision, made Vladimir the first sanctuary in Russia.
Popular belief assigned the founding of the city to St. Vladimir the
Apostle and Grand Prince. He had, in fact, come from Kief with the
first metropolitan to baptize the pagan people of that region, but the
city was founded only during the days when Vladimir Monomach was the
ruler. It occupied, however, the spot on which the Apostolic Vladimir
had camped, on his way to baptize the people of Rostoff and Suzdal,
hence it was said that the city received its name from Vladimir the
Apostle, the Purifier. Political power helped the religious idea, and
religion gave strength to the policy.
In the mind of Yuri Dolgoruki the plan had been fixed firmly that his
northern lands must remain undivided. One reason why he had struggled
for Kief so persistently was to satisfy some of his sons in the South,
while the North was to remain intact, and be given to his eldest son.
Through increase of Vladimir’s descendants, and the separation of
property, princes who had little land and no power became numerous. In
extreme cases Yuri had divided out towns of Rostoff and Suzdal for the
temporary use of those princes. Andrei’s brothers were not treated
differently from others.
Having fixed himself at Vladimir as the one power, Andrei would not
give any brother, or even any son, a bit of land in that region. His
brothers and some of his nephews worked with him, but all did what he
commanded; they were simply his agents, doing as he directed. And for
them, he was the same lord precisely that he was for others. Of course
the boyars signified less than the princes, whether the boyars were his
own near advisers, or of the “ancient strong, local people,” “proud and
powerful high persons,” as men called them. These boyars had been met
by his father and conquered. They might have thought of struggling with
Yuri Dolgoruki, but not with Andrei. Yuri had battled with one and
another of them. When defeated some had fled to neighboring princes,
others had been exiled, or imprisoned. But in Andrei’s time it might be
said with truth that every question as to the strength of the prince or
the boyars was settled.
With those who opposed him, Andrei showed still less ceremony than had
his father. He spared not his brothers, in the least degree. Those of
the “ancient strong people” in Rostoff and in Suzdal who preferred the
new order rallied round Andrei, and gave him full support. There were
others, and those were in the majority, who warred against him in
secret. For the time they threw out merely words like the following:
“Rostoff is old, and a great place, and so is Suzdal; Vladimir is only
an adjunct.” But these people knew that they were powerless against a
prince who had the common men, the land-tillers and craftsmen in full
force behind him. Because of this relation of common men to Andrei, and
the hostility of most of the boyars and the wielders of weapons who had
lost places, there rose reports and explanations quite opposite, the
substance of which was expressed by the phrase: “There is a fierce
battle in Rostoff and Suzdal.” This was uttered by “proud high people,”
and by men thrown out of office. Common men used other phrases: “We
love Prince Andrei. We love this grandson of Monomach. This prince
never rests from his labor, he keeps his mind and conscience clear. He
has love for God and man. He is firm and kind. He is good to the weak
and to the ailing.”
Andrei’s wars were waged always to benefit Vladimir and the people. He
had no thought for petty quarrels among princes, and never took part in
them. A prince in his place needed no special army. Towns and cities in
that region were numerous, and ever prompt to send warriors in defense
of their interests. Whenever an enemy came, all people were ready to
rise. Instead of a chosen legion, led by boyars, who, in the old time,
surrounded the prince and curbed freedom immensely, Andrei received
into his “courtyard” whomever he wished, people of all sorts, and even
all origins. They were not called as in the old days drujina (friends),
but dvoryani (court men). They lived in his court and around it in
complete acquiescence; they were people of his court. Though the former
name of drujina was not abandoned immediately, it lost its old meaning,
and soon the prince’s assistants were known as dvoryani, a word
translated later as noble. This word, used afterward to denote
specially the highest people of Moscow, had its origin in the Vladimir
of Andrei.
The wars carried on by Andrei had a definite policy. If he gave aid to
some prince who annoyed him by imploring, this aid was limited to
sending a small detachment. But he defended those who asked assistance
against enemies more by a threat than by fighting. If he warred, as
happened later, he did so in the interest of his own principality. His
problem was to manage freely in Kief and in Novgorod for the benefit of
Vladimir. When one or another prince asked his permission to reign in
Kief, the mother city, that prince had to take an oath not to meddle
with Novgorod. Andrei did not care about Kief, but between Novgorod and
Vladimir there were endless dissensions, which rose from the fact that
Vladimir and Novgorod were neighbors. Novgorod, rich in commerce, was
poor in land, and had to get wheat and rye from Vladimir or regions
beyond it. “Vladimir and Novgorod stood face to face as opponents.” And
besides the question of grain on one side and of trade on the other was
that of the boundless North with its treasures. Novgorod claimed that
northern region, claimed all of it. Wherever a foot of land presented
itself Novgorod wanted that to be the land of a man in its service.
This proud understanding of things was expressed by the phrase: “Who
can stand against God and Lord Novgorod?” But into those northern
places had entered Rostoff and Suzdal, and now they were dealing with
Andrei of Vladimir.
From times before Rurik, Novgorod men had the wish for dominion, but
they could not have this unless they could find a man to keep order,
and be at the same time their servant. That was why they had summoned
Rurik. The Novgorod men had explored the great North and East, and knew
that its size was enormous. They counted as theirs that northeastern
region, but there was one corner, White Lake, which Vladimir could
claim. Of this corner Novgorod might not say beyond doubt: “It is
mine,” still the city laid claim to it. In Yuri’s day, Daniel the
Hermit was sent by him to take possession of a point north of White
Lake, which place lapped over the Novgorod boundary, and caused endless
quarrels. But the real origin of the dispute was the water connection
between the Neva and the Volga—the so-called Dvina tribute. This was
the source of the continual dissension between Novgorod and Vladimir.
Of this tribute and other questions we shall hear later.
Andrei made a campaign to Bulgar, a town on the Volga. Possessing
already the upper course of that river, he must have command of its
lower course, at least to the point where the Kama falls into it.
Somewhat lower than the entrance of the Kama, which finds its source in
the great Ural Mountains, was the city Bulgar. This time Andrei led the
army in person. Under him were Ryazan princes. He took the Vladimir
Mother of God to arouse the courage and strength of the army. The
confidence which this holy image gave to the warriors passed every
description. When the Vladimir men entered the country of “unbelievers”
the clergy went in front of them bearing the image, and while preparing
for battle, they turned to the “Commanderess” with prayers for her
blessing.
The Bulgar campaign gave a great victory. Andrei’s forces captured all
that they met in that country and seized Bryahimoff, the chief town.
Wherever the enemy appeared, they were scattered. Vast booty was
seized, and many lands were annexed to Vladimir. The chief encounter
took place August 1st, a day famed in the Russian calendar till then as
the day of the Maccabees, but thence forward changed to the day of the
Merciful Saviour. Andrei, seeing in this victory special favor,
conveyed news of it speedily to Manuel, the Greek Emperor. In Tsargrad,
on that very day, they were celebrating a victory over Saracens in
Asia. On comparing dates it was found that the victory in Asia and that
on the Volga coincided. Hence the Orthodox Church in both lands
determined that the day should be called ever after the day of the
Merciful Saviour.
Andrei’s friendship in Tsargrad was great both with Emperor and
Patriarch, and he hoped that this friendship might aid him in giving
Vladimir the first place in Russia. He had resolved to raise it, not
merely above northern cities, but above Kief, the old capital. The
problem was difficult, but he must attempt it. In church matters
Vladimir was still under Kief, whose metropolitan had power in all
Russia. Vladimir had its bishop, but he lived in Rostoff, a rival city.
Now that Andrei had built the great golden-domed church, and had
subdued Volga regions, he intended to make his Vladimir the capital of
Russia in every sense,—not merely independent as to Kief,—but superior,
and resolved that the metropolitan of all Russia should reside there.
Andrei summoned princes, boyars and people to Vladimir, and said to
them: “This city was founded by Saint Vladimir, the Grand Prince who
enlightened all Russia by baptism. I, though unworthy and sinful, have
by God’s aid exalted the Christian faith and extended it. I have
adorned the church of the glorious and holy Mother. I have given lands
to it, and one tenth of my income, I wish Vladimir to be the capital,
the head of all cities in Russia.” No man said a word to oppose this.
Russian princes in regard to some things communicated with the
Patriarch in Tsargrad directly; on occasions they sent presents, and at
times they sent envoys, but when church affairs were discussed they
were forced to act through the Kief metropolitan.
Andrei sent a special envoy in this case, whose name, Yakov
Stanishavitch, is preserved to us. The prince explained in a letter
that Vladimir was at the head of a new, immense country where the
Christian faith, unknown till recently, had become firmly fixed and
widely extended. Vladimir needed more strength and order in church
service; she prayed to receive a metropolitan. Boundless regions were
now in light, regions which, till his father’s day and his own, had
been in darkness. His recent victories had opened up new and vast
countries. Andrei spoke a greater truth than he himself realized. He
had in fact opened up a new world in such form and meaning as no man at
that time comprehended.
The boyars gazed with dread on him. Well might they ask: “How far will
his plans go? Does he think to enforce them on all Russia? Will he not
take power from us, and every significance? If he makes Vladimir the
great mother city, where shall we find a place in it?”
In due time came the answer to Andrei’s letter. The Patriarch praised
the zeal of the prince in planting truth in new places, approved of his
bringing order to lands hitherto without it, but while revering that
for which Andrei was toiling so earnestly, his Humility the Patriarch
could not grant the prayer of Prince Andrei, because the Kief
metropolitan already had jurisdiction in those northern lands. If the
prince had won new lands, in regions apart and divided geographically,
the question would have been different, but the regions under
discussion could not be taken from their present right relations
without violating ancient rules and destroying Christian truth as
existent. Andrei had asked in the name of religion and truth,
concealing his chief, if not his only object. The Patriarch answered in
the same way,—the inevitable and ever recurrent method of masking the
main point. Andrei was obliged to abandon the project.
During his father’s life, Andrei had married the daughter of Kutchka, a
boyar who had been put to death by Yuri. In family life Andrei knew
little, if any happiness. All his children died earlier than he, except
one, the youngest son, Yuri, who married Queen Tamara of Georgia and
died in the Trans-Caucasus, prematurely, after painful adventures.
Neither from his wife nor her relatives had Andrei witnessed
good-feeling. No matter how he strove to draw near the Kutchkas, no
matter what he spent in lavish kindness toward them and their friends,
they ever cherished for him a hatred which nothing could extinguish.
The same might be said of the men near Andrei. He had removed his
drujina and the boyars, and chosen new people. He treated those people
with such kindness and so liberally that he might hope to see them
grateful. “Father,” “Giver of good,” “Bestower of pleasant things,”
“Nourisher” were the only words which they might with honesty have said
of him. These were the terms used in satire by those men who witnessed
but did not receive this attention. It was with the following words
that all described Andrei,—all save the circle which opposed him. “The
beloved father, the nourisher of orphans, kind and gentle, simple and
strong, putting his arms round the poor, loving those who are
abandoned, giving them to eat and drink, like his great ancestor
Monomach.” He was holy also, though men did not know it. He had
commanded that at any time of the day or night, if there were a really
needy man or woman, that man or woman should be nourished. He had also
built houses where the sick and the unprotected might be received and
cared for.
From his youth Andrei, with all the kindness ascribed to him by the
people, had not many friends, because he was abrupt in manner, and as
he grew older this abruptness became more apparent. The expulsion of
boyars and men who had been connected with his father caused great
discontent, and now his one prop was the people, who, though with him
to a man, were not in physical touch with him. He had incensed the
princes because he commanded at all points in Russia as he did in his
own house. There were reasons enough why princes and boyars desired the
death of Andrei. Much was said about defense against such a man.
Reports were even current that Glaib of Ryazan and his boyars were
plotting against him, and that Rostoff and Suzdal boyars had joined
with Glaib. While men might expect action from this point, Andrei fell
a victim to what seemed a conspiracy of his servants and relatives. In
any case he died at the hands of his servants, brought to the deed, it
may be, by keen machinations of princes and boyars. That princes and
boyars were the movers, and the others only the instruments, there is,
however, no formal proof. The story of the crime is as follows:
The whole number of assassins was twenty. Four men were the leaders in
the murder,—Takin, whose personality is uncertain; Pyotr, son-in-law of
one of the Kutchkas, Anval the key-bearer, at that time a great
favorite, and Yevfrem Moiseitch, a converted Jew. A report was spread,
on Friday, June 28th, 1174, that Andrei intended to summon and execute
one of the Kutchkas. That same day the four men made this decision:
“To-night, when Andrei lies down to sleep, we will kill him.” In the
darkness between Friday the 28th and Saturday the 29th the key-bearer,
Anval, stole from Andrei’s chamber the sword of Prince Boris, which had
been an heirloom in Vladimir Monomach’s family. On the afternoon of
that day, Andrei’s wife had gone on a visit. In the evening Andrei lay
down to sleep without anxiety or suspicion. On the floor in the room
lay one of the little serving boys called “Bones,”—thus are they termed
in the chronicles. The murderers were completely armed. They came to
the house, but when at the entrance fear seized them and they ran out
again. To get courage they went to find drink. After they had drunk
sufficiently, they returned and groped their way in the darkness.
Having found the door of the chamber where Andrei was sleeping, one of
them tapped at it lightly. “Who is there?” called the prince. The man
who had knocked answered: “Prokofi.” The assassins heard the prince
say: “That is not the voice of Prokofi.” Hearing this, they burst the
door in with one effort. Andrei, suspecting the deed, sprang up and
grasped for his sword; the sword was not there. The two men who entered
first Andrei put down quickly. There being no light in the chamber, the
assassins struck at random and hit their own men till they found
Andrei. He, being strong, fought in the darkness a long time. The
battle was stubborn, but since twenty men were fighting with one, they
at last overpowered him. The victim groaned as he said: “God will take
vengeance on you for my bread, which you have eaten.” They hastened to
finish. The breath seemed to halt in Andrei as if the soul were going
out of him, and he lay on his back in agony. They gave him, as they
thought, final blows, and waited in the darkness, till every sound
ceased in his body, and they found no trace of breath in him. Then,
taking with them a man whom Andrei had killed in the struggle, they
started to grope their way out, but they could not go quickly, for in
fear and in darkness the right passage was missed. Halting a moment,
they discovered it, and going down the stone stairs to the open, again
visited the mead cellar. Coming back, they stood a while to recover
from the inner air, and from terror of the deed just accomplished.
While this was taking place Prince Andrei, who had been left for dead,
regained consciousness. He sat up and remembered with difficulty what
had happened; then, leaving the room, he began to descend the stone
stairway slowly, but as he went he betrayed himself. He might have
escaped had he gone down in silence, but he could not suppress groans
of anguish. The assassins heard those groans. “He is not killed!”
whispered one in alarm. They returned to the chamber hurriedly; Andrei
was not there. “Where is he?” asked one of another. “Quick! quick! we
must find him!” They struck a light and, through blood which had
dropped from the wounds of the prince as he passed down the stairway,
they discovered him. Andrei, who saw the men coming, rose and stood
behind a stone pillar near the entrance to his palace, and when they
saw him, he cried: “O God, receive Thou my spirit!” Those were Andrei’s
last words, He struggled no longer in mind, but still he raised his
hand and they cut off his arm at the shoulder. Thus died Andrei, son of
Yuri Dolgoruki, slain in his own house, by men whom he had treated
justly and with kindness.
The next work of the murderers was to kill Prokofi, the favorite of the
prince, and their opponent. After the death of Prokofi they began to
pillage. Before daylight they had emptied the palace, the cellars, the
places where holy images were made, and the workshops where cloth of
gold and of silver was woven and where precious stones were set.
Everything had vanished, gold, silver, silk, satin, rich furs, weapons,
and rare objects which Andrei had possessed in abundance. At daybreak
Bogolyuboff was as empty “as a hollow, old tree.” The assassins were
gone, each stolen thing had been secreted. To remove those things
quickly they had taken all the horses, even those used in the personal
service of the prince. They now sent men to Vladimir to declare what
had taken place. “Have no feeling against us,” said they to the people.
“The thing done has happened in spite of us.” “We know not who were
with you,” replied the Vladimir men, “but whoever they were, they will
answer for this vile murder.”
In Vladimir the boyars feared the morrow, and with reason, for common
men loved Andrei. And now came the clashing of forces. Men who had land
and lived from it through the labor of others had been opposed to
Andrei, but those who themselves tilled land had been on his side.
These two groups stood face to face now like two armies. What was to be
done? Among boyars and the powerful at this time of peril, there was no
confidence in their own leaders. If there had been a leader in whom
they could have trusted, they would surely have conquered, but that man
was lacking. The leader of the people had been Andrei; now he was gone,
and both sides were helpless.
At first there was utter discouragement in Vladimir, a paralysis of
mind for the moment. Meanwhile no one knew where the body of Andrei
was; no one knew what the murderers had done with it till Kuzma, a
former servant of the dead prince, discovered it. This faithful man,
who feared only God and loved no man on earth save Andrei, did not
cease his questions: “Where is the prince? Where is his body?” “We
threw it into the garden,” replied one of the assassins at last, with
great insolence. “But go not near. We threw out the body that the dogs
might devour it. If thou go near, men will kill thee.”
The old servant said nothing, but sought for the body and found it. “O
thou my master and friend!” cried he, weeping. “Didst thou not feel the
approach of those murderers, thou who didst terrify thousands so many
times?” As he was weeping he turned, and through an opening saw the
eyes of the key-bearer, Anval. “O thou enemy, why art thou looking?”
called he then. “Give me some garment to cover my lord’s body, O thou
heretic!” “Be off!” called out Anval; “dogs will eat up that body.”
“Give this body to dogs! Remember, O reprobate, in what clothes thou
didst come to Prince Andrei; now thou art in velvet and cloth with gold
threads in it, while thy lord is lying dead here, and naked. Even such
as thou art, throw out to me something to cover my master.”
Anval threw out an upper garment and a piece of carpet. Kuzma covered
the body, wrapped it in the carpet and carried it on his shoulders to
the church, but no one would open the door to him. “Do not come with
him here,” said they. At that moment all near were either on the side
of Andrei’s enemies or in dread of them. Kuzma put down the body before
the door and cried, stooping over it: “Thou my master, thou, O strong
prince, thy lowest servants do not regard thee. Thou, O my master, who
didst conquer the Balgars, and gain immense countries, art not admitted
to the church which was built by thee. We are here at the door of it, I
living and thou dead, and no one will admit us.”
The body lay there two days, wrapped in the carpet and guarded
continually by Kuzma. In Vladimir the people were waiting in dread of
the future. Those were two evil days, opened by murder and robbery in
Bogolyuboff, and succeeded by violence from Andrei’s enemies. Every
treasure was carried off, all that their hands could lay hold of. If
any servant was faithful, he was slain without mercy. In neighboring
villages they killed those who held office from Andrei, or were known
to be friends of his. They raised riots to excite evil passions and
help men to forget themselves. But many of those who committed such
deeds were afraid, and with reason, that punishment would strike them
from Vladimir.
That which failed the Vladimir men, namely courage, and which had to
come, if it came, from some other source, came from the clergy, and
began in the Golden-domed Church of Vladimir. The chief priest there
was Mikulets, that same priest who in Vyshgorod had care of the holy
image, and later assisted in bringing it to Vladimir. After consulting
with other priests, Mikulets, arrayed in his robes, bore the sacred
image of the Mother of God through the city. A procession followed him.
The conspirators were dumb and complete quiet reigned in Vladimir. The
people recovered their minds at once, and all joined the clergy, who
had great power, for the common people were with them. After that men
talked on the street and in other places about the need of burying
Prince Andrei with honor, of bringing his body from Bogolyuboff and
placing it in the Golden-domed Church which he had erected. The moment
that this was decided upon, the citizens formed a guard for protection.
Seeing this, the conspirators lost all courage.
In Bogolyuboff also the clergy now showed the bravery and the decision
necessary to meet the blind insolence of those insurgent and riotous
boyars, who thought that because they had had the upper hand for a
moment they would have it forever. On the third day Arsenie, an abbot,
took action. “Is our prince,” said he, “to lie before the church door
unconsidered, guarded by Kuzma? Open the door, and I will chant the
sacred words over the body. I will place it in the coffin myself, if no
man will help me. God will then have mercy and make an end of this
disorder. Men will come from Vladimir to bear hence the coffin with
reverence.” Andrei’s body was put in a coffin, and placed in front of
the altar, and all the people of the city wept and sang in the sacred
service.
On the sixth day the men of Vladimir asked of the clergy a burial the
most imposing and majestic that could be given. It was arranged that
the clergy of Bogolyuboff, in complete church array, with crosses and
emblems, were to follow behind the coffin, and with them Kuzma, the old
servant who had sat two days and nights before the church door,
guarding the body of his master. The clergy of Vladimir were to meet
them between the two places.
When the Vladimir people met the procession, they were shown the
highest honor. The Bogolyuboff men, ready to receive them, stood around
the coffin, and those who had been appointed to take the coffin
received it and moved on toward the city with awe, and with great
weeping. The road was thronged with a multitude of persons, filled with
reverence. All came forward to make the sign of the cross and look at
the coffin as it was borne toward its resting-place. No man could
restrain his tears, as he wailed, “O our friend, art thou gone from us,
thou who built the Golden-domed Church of the Holy Mother? Art thou
gone from us?”
Every man held it his duty to make the sign of the cross and repeat a
prayer for the soul of Andrei. Day and night continued those prayers,
which people thought it a privilege to say over the body of their
prince, and the prayers offered by the Vladimir people, and by a
multitude of pilgrims from all parts of that northern region in behalf
of the victim, continued to increase for a long time. From that day to
this the people who wish to pray for Andrei are not decreasing in
number. To our time, in the chief church of Vladimir on the right side,
as one enters the northern door, stands the coffin of Andrei, and near
it on the wall is his portrait. Six miles from Vladimir is a single
church, which marks the site of Bogolyuboff. There also stands a part
of the stone building in which Andrei lived, some of the walls with
their heavy arches, and the stone column behind which the prince stood
when his murderers gave him the last blow.
A gloomy tradition is preserved among the people, touching the
assassins and their punishment. The Kutchkas and Anval were hanged, and
fifteen men were decapitated. Andrei’s princess, who it was thought had
had knowledge of the plot, was sewed up alive in a canvas bag and put
into a basket holding stones sufficient to sink it. That done, a cloth
was wrapped around the basket and this cloth sewed together securely.
The basket was then thrown into the lake, and it vanished immediately.
The following legend has immortalized the history of Andrei’s death.
Near Vladimir is a dark, swampy lake. In that weird lake is a spot
which the people call “Floating Island.” On that island are seen dark
patches, which move hither and thither when the wind blows. Every
anniversary of Andrei Bogolyuboff’s murder, noises like groans are said
to come forth from the depths of that lake, now known as Foul
Water—into this foul water the basket containing Andrei’s false
princess was thrown, and into it were hurled also the murderers’
bodies.
Of Andrei there remains in the minds of the Russian people a bright and
pure memory. From every part of Russia come pilgrims to Vladimir to
pray before his coffin. With the blood of a martyr, the prince
sprinkled the house in which he lived. In the moments of his bitterest
agony he parted from this world with the words, “O God, receive Thou my
spirit,” and to that coffin people turn now, saying: “Pray thou for us
also, that the Lord may assist us against enemies.”
Immediately after the death of Andrei, men of the party opposed to him
in Suzdal and Rostoff began to ask: “What are we to do, now that our
prince is gone? With whom can we replace him? Ryazan is our neighbor;
if Ryazan princes attack, what shall we do without a leader? Shall we
not take a Ryazan prince? The wife of their ruling prince is a daughter
of Rostislav, son of Yuri Dolgoruki; she is a relative of our late
prince. Let us find a prince in Ryazan; that is better.” The boyars
sent confidants to Vladimir, who declared to the friends of Andrei: “Ye
are not many in number; ye would better not oppose Rostoff and Suzdal;
your city is still a dependency. It is wise for you to agree with us.
If ye hold to the plans of Andrei, we will meet you with war to the
death. The Ryazan princes may also attack you.”
Volunteers from Rostoff and Suzdal hovered round, as it were, to
support all these statements. In Vladimir the “smallest people,” as
they called themselves, and those who were not in the boyar conspiracy,
gave answer in this form: “Whose is with you, is not on our side.” The
boyars wanted a prince who would not punish those who had caused the
murder of Andrei. They wanted a prince who would be an opponent of all
that Andrei had established, hence they selected two nephews of Andrei,
two orphans, sons of Rostislav, Andrei’s elder brother, who died early.
In Ryazan itself, where the conspiracy had originated, there was joy,
but words were few: no discussion was needed; all knew exactly what
they wanted. In Rostoff and Suzdal the plan existed even before Andrei
was assassinated. Glaib of Ryazan, when envoys came to him to ask for a
prince in place of Andrei, was greatly delighted. To those envoys he
added others, and all went to Chernigoff, where the orphans were
living.
When the envoys appeared before Sviatoslav, he saw at once the meaning
of the embassy and was not pleased with the project of choosing the
orphans. He insisted that Mihalko and Vsevolod, brothers of Andrei, who
were in Chernigoff, should go to Vladimir in company with Mystislav and
Yaropolk (the orphans).
On hearing of this, the Rostoff and Suzdal boyars were angry, and sent
a message saying that Mihalko and Vsevolod were not to come nearer than
Moscow. Mihalko paid no attention to the message, but hastened to
Vladimir, where the people received him with gladness, and prepared for
a siege by the boyars. Meanwhile Glaib of Ryazan, bringing Rostoff and
Suzdal forces, with Mystislav and Yaropolk, attacked the city. A siege
of seven weeks brought the people to famine and a surrender on promise
that no harm should meet any man. Mihalko and Vsevolod went back to
Chernigoff, and the new princes, after hearing the statement of the
Vladimir men: “Not against you have we struggled, but against the
boyars of Rostoff, who boasted: we will scorch you, and then send a
posadnik to rule. Ye are our slaves, O ye masons and carpenters,” took
oath to give kindness and peace to the people.
But their position was impossible. The boyars, who had insulted
Vladimir and forced those two princes upon the country, were the real
masters. Their friend, Glaib of Ryazan, did what seemed good to him;
his troops sacked villages in every direction and burned them. Rostoff
boyars got what they wanted; they and their friends took all the
offices of value. The importance of Vladimir was leaving it daily. The
cathedral was plundered, the holy images taken, and the chief one, that
of the Mother of God, was given to Glaib. He got also the sword of
Boris, inherited from Monomach, as well as silver and gems from the
churches. He got much for he had helped much, and might help still more
in the future. Soon the position became unendurable. The plan of the
boyars was evident. They were undoing the work of Andrei, reducing and
robbing Vladimir, and enslaving common people. Seeing this clearly, the
Vladimir men were enraged to the utmost, and sent at once for Mihalko
and Vsevolod. The brothers set out from Chernigoff immediately, but at
the Oká Mihalko fell ill and was carried on a litter to Moscow, where
envoys from Vladimir were waiting.
The boyars prepared now for a life and death struggle. Yaropolk was
sent with forces toward Moscow to cut off Andrei’s brothers from
Vladimir. But they were well on their way, and Yaropolk missed them in
the deep forests of that time. On learning this, he sent a swift
courier with warning to Mystislav, who hastened at once to cut off
Mihalko and Vsevolod. He met them near Vladimir, and rushed at them “as
if to devour them,” says the chronicler. But as his chief forces were
militia without marks to distinguish them from other men, they became
mixed and confused with the men of Vladimir, and had to cease fighting.
That at least was the tale told when they were reproached by the
boyars. The truth was, as it seems, that the common men of Rostoff and
Suzdal would not fight against those of Vladimir, and whatever struggle
there was, was sustained by the personal following of the boyars.
Mihalko and Vsevolod, in after years called “Big Nest” because of his
many children, were installed June 15, 1176, a great and memorable day
for Vladimir. The people praised the Lord and His Holy Mother for their
ready assistance. “Oh,” said they, of the Ryazan and Suzdal boyars,
“they did not care for God’s truth; they boasted that they would do
what they liked with us. Well, God did not let them offend us.” The
defeated princes vanished; Mystislav fled to Novgorod, and Yaropolk
sought refuge in Ryazan.
The new princes gave peace to the whole country promptly, and then,
resolved to settle with the faith-breaking Glaib of Ryazan, they
marched against him that summer. Their success had thus far been so
signal that Glaib was alarmed and sent envoys with this message: “I bow
down to you; I am to blame in every way. All that was seized by
Mystislav and Yaropolk and given to me, I will gladly return.” He sent
back the treasures with the holy image, and the sword of Boris that
Andrei had kept in his bed-chamber. Peace was made, and the princes
returned to Vladimir.