BALTIC PROVINCES
To understand the difficulties of the situation in the north Baltic
region, it will be necessary to describe it somewhat in detail. In the
tenth century the Russian coast on the Baltic belonged to the Polotsk
principality, to Pskoff and to Novgorod. The western part, that which
had the Dvina River for its artery, belonged to the Polotsk princes;
north and east of that were the Pskoff possessions, and last of all
those of Novgorod.
The Polotsk coast was inhabited by tribes known collectively as Kors
and Livs. Later on, their territory was called by the Germans Korland
and Livland. The part belonging to Pskoff was occupied by Chud, or Fin
tribes. The Russians gave no collective name to these regions, but
called each group by its own name; a good proof that they were left in
great part to themselves.
Though all those tribes paid tribute to Pskoff, Polotsk or Novgorod,
they were not disturbed in their mode of living. During almost a
century and a half the Russian princes built no forts or strongholds in
that country. From Polotsk to the sea there were but few places.
Gersiké and Kuikenos were the capitals of those lands which belonged to
Polotsk. At the beginning of the eleventh century, the Polotsk region
was ruled by Prince Vsevolod, whose wife was a Lithuanian. In Kuikenos
was Prince Vyacheslav. The country was left mainly to the care of its
inhabitants. They paid tribute and kept landing-places and portages.
After the manner of primitive people, they had many disputes among
themselves, but in those disputes the Russian princes meddled little;
their main interest was to receive tribute, and have an open road to
the sea. Christianity was spreading gradually, though no great effort
was made to change the primitive religion.
At the beginning of the twelfth century, Bremen merchants visited the
Baltic coast of Russia and established small landing-places and
villages. One of these was called Dalen, another Holm, a third Ikskul.
The latter was on the Dvina about twenty-five miles from its mouth, and
was simply the native village of Ikeskola; here the Germans built a
small fort with a warehouse. They knew well that this coast belonged to
Russia, and was a part of the Polotsk principality, and their thought
was how to get possession of it.
To Vladimir, Prince of Polotsk, came one day a man of God, an old monk,
Meinhardt by name. He had, he said, devoted all his life to God, and,
being in the Polotsk country, wished to work for God there. He thought
it his duty to bow down before Vladimir, who held all that region of
the Dvina, and to beg permission to preach the word of God among the
pagan tribes of the Baltic coast. Vladimir received him kindly and gave
the desired permission.
Ten years passed. Suddenly it was announced throughout the Polotsk
principality that the Kors and Livs were attacking the Germans. In the
course of those ten years wonderful things had happened. When the monk
Meinhardt went from Prince Vladimir to Ikeskola with a greeting from
the prince, the people listened to his words willingly; he was himself
astonished at the success of his preaching. His flock increased
rapidly. People came from far and near to be baptized; they came by
families and then by whole villages. He built a church in Ikeskola and
one also in Holm.
But, strangely enough, this monk knew how to build fortresses. Besides
being a spiritual leader, he was a warrior of much skill. During his
first winter in the country, 1186–1187, Ikeskola was attacked by a
neighboring tribe. Meinhardt armed his spiritual children with clubs
and axes, and set out against the enemy. He made an ambush and gained a
great victory. After that, conversion went on still more rapidly. The
monk meanwhile persuaded the people to build a stone fortress. He
brought in German masons and mechanics, and the following summer he
built two large castles with towers, in fact regular fortresses, at
Ikeskola and Holm.
Besides merchants and mechanics, warriors began to appear in the
country, and Meinhardt invited in Latin monks to assist him in his
spiritual labors. He sent one of these monks, Dietrich, to convert
people in the neighborhood of Aa River. This man was acquainted with
medicinal plants and could heal the sick; but he was greatly disliked.
The people were suspicious of him. Finally he was seized and condemned
to be burned alive, but his life was spared through soothsaying. Before
burning him, the people placed a spear on the ground and led a horse up
to it; the horse crossed it with the “foot of life.” The people would
not believe, they demanded a second trial; the result was the same.
They freed the monk, and thereafter Meinhardt kept him near his
person,—not as a preacher, but as an adviser.
Of the most important elders of his church, Meinhardt formed a
body-guard. Among those men he chose certain ones who were to act as
spies and inform him of every secret. These he distinguished above
others, and rewarded. He sent them to persuade the people, and by
degrees the most stubborn yielded.
Meanwhile German commerce flourished. From Holm, or Kirchholm, as
Meinhardt called the place after his church was built, and Ikeskola new
villages were founded. Taking the name of the Livs, the whole country
was now called by the Latinized term Livonia, and the churches were
mentioned as “the Church of Livonia.” It might seem that this work was
one that could never be undone. But all at once there was a tempest—a
wild revolt throughout the whole country. A thing unheard of, a
spectacle unique in Christianity was presented to the eyes of the
“Apostle of Livonia,” as disciples called Meinhardt, when those same
people who had received baptism from him sprang into the Dvina, washed
themselves clean of his apostolic touch, dived in the water “to purify
their persons.” “Behold!” shouted they to him. “We have cleansed
ourselves from German baptism.” And looking at the waves of the river
rushing toward the sea, they added: “Be off from us, far away. Go to
the place whence thou hast come.” In this manner the whole country gave
back its baptism to the German monk.
Meinhardt began to threaten. He would sail away; he would find a legion
of defenders of Christ and bring them back on countless ships. Then
they would see how God punished apostates, they would see the awful
power of Christ’s vicar on earth, by whom he, Meinhardt, had been
deputed. This threat alarmed the people; they became tearful and begged
him not to leave them. Instead of going himself, he sent Dietrich.
Why did the people rise? “Because they differed little from beasts,
were wild and rude. There had been great religious excitement, and this
uprising was simply a reaction.” This is the explanation of certain
historians, but a further statement should be added: The monk had begun
to enforce obedience to the Archbishop of Bremen, and to demand tithes
for “the church.” The “Apostle of Livonia” was a faithful servant of
the Archbishop of Bremen. He was made Bishop of Livonia in subjection
to Bremen in 1188, and died in 1196.
The monk Berthold, an abbot of the Cistercian Order, appointed to fill
Meinhardt’s place, heard that the people were considering whether to
burn him in the church or drown him in the river. He shut himself up in
Kirchholm, but he had warriors clad in steel from head to foot, with
heavy swords at their sides, and sitting on mighty horses, such as the
people had never seen till that day. These were the “Knights.” People
sent to ask why this man of God had brought those warriors into the
country. “To punish apostates,” was the answer.
The bishop now prepared for a serious uprising. He left Holm and
encamped at the mouth of the river Rigje. People began to gather from
far and near, crowds of half-naked men, armed with sharp sticks, clubs
and axes. The more they increased, crowd after crowd, the more they
gathered courage. The knights let the natives assemble in the greatest
possible number—they did not hasten to begin the battle, but when at
last they did rush forward, they had not long to struggle for victory.
It was impossible to stop the onrush of the conquerors. The bishop,
Berthold, in pursuing the people, was carried away by excitement. He
lost control of his spirited horse and became separated from his men.
The Livs immediately surrounded him, and chopped him into small bits.
The triumph on the German side was complete, and they made a terrible
use of it. It might be said that the warriors of the cross became
executioners. The people begged for mercy, and promised to submit to
baptism again, and to receive into the villages the priests who had
been driven out. But in vain did they plead. All were sentenced to
death. Separate divisions of knights passed through the country, and in
every village dealt out dreadful punishment to “apostates.”
The youthful Livonian church was thus reëstablished. Then the Western
crusaders, considering their holy work finished, and their sins
absolved, reëmbarked and sailed away home. But all at once, and most
unexpectedly, there was a new outburst of rage and indignation through
the whole country. The natives rushed at the “vile strangers,” killing
or beating them, and looting their homes. They intended to act in like
manner with all foreigners, but the merchants gave them great presents,
and bought their good-will. Those who had been re-baptized sprang a
second time into the river, and a second time washed themselves clean
of the German religion.
When this news reached Bremen and Rome, they decided to delay no
longer, but acquire Livonia in permanence. To do this they needed a
military brotherhood warring for Christ.
The Germans appeared now in a triple character: as a military order to
strike down opposition; as merchants to extend trade; as a church to
bring all to the faith. As their leader stood forth Albert von Apeldern
Bukshevden, and to aid in subjecting Livonia the Pope gave him
permission to found a new knightly order, the members of which would
spend their lives in extending the Livonian church. Albert visited the
chief German cities, enlisted knights, and collected contributions for
his great “patriotic work.” His knights wore a white mantle on which
was a red cross and a red sword. In Russia they were called “Bearers of
the Sword.” They took the name willingly, and called themselves
“Brothers of the Sword.”
Albert’s first work was to build a fortress at the mouth of the river,
and then began the city of Riga at the village Rigje. In two years
there was a fortress and a cathedral. The people received him
unwillingly. Being a keen politician, he opened negotiations with the
natives, and, when their elders went to him to conclude peace, he
seized them and threatened to send them to Germany. This threat brought
the elders to terms, and Albert obtained of their sons thirty as
hostages. These were sent to Bremen to be educated.
Soon a dispute arose between Albert, the sovereign Bishop of Livonia,
and the Order, which wished on its part to rule the conquered country.
It was finally settled by the Pope, who divided the land into three
parts. One third was to go to the bishop; one third to the metropolitan
of the city of Riga, and one third to the Order. But the Order would
not live in the same city with the bishop, so they erected a
castle,—Wenden. This castle and the city which grew up around it became
the capital of the Order. Here lived the “Grand Master,” as the Germans
entitled him. In every direction castles of barons and knights sprang
up like mushrooms. In proportion as the people were conquered and
converted, they were turned into slaves and forced to build strongholds
for their masters. The material reward for saving souls was all the
land and all the people.
Albert put to death unsparingly those who refused to be baptized. In
villages where the people tried to free themselves of their enslavers,
the Germans killed whole crowds of prisoners—in some cases the entire
male population—and consumed the village with fire. In other places,
where they went into servitude meekly, they were taken on campaigns
against regions not yet subjected. The bishop favored quarrels between
tribes, and by skilful management used one tribe to subdue another.
Thus also did he rouse tribes against Russia; inspire them not to pay
tribute to Pskoff or Novgorod, and promise to liberate them with German
assistance. He even helped them in their raids against the Russians.
Why did Polotsk princes permit intruders to seize their ancient
possessions? Were no efforts made to drive them out? There were. Prince
Vsevolod, assisted by Lithuanians, advanced to attack Riga, but when he
saw from a distance the tower and walls of the city he turned back.
Afterward Vladimir went from Polotsk to Ikeskola. The Germans, taken by
surprise, carried out gifts to him, and he left without interfering
with the city. He went to Holm, but that city could not be taken by
surprise. Reinforcements hurried up from Riga, and Vladimir left,
merely taking tribute. Albert, the wily bishop, expressed no
astonishment that the Polotsk prince had come. On the contrary, he
explained that the tribute paid by the tribes to Polotsk was in his
eyes a sacred matter. In the future, he would himself undertake to
forward it to Polotsk. Vladimir discovered that his rights had not been
assailed and would not be. As to the Germans baptizing the Kors, Livs
and Chuds, it was done by his permission given to Meinhardt.
In 1206, Albert, now archbishop, felt the need of further explanations,
hence he sent an embassy to Vladimir. At that time a general uprising
was feared. One of the elders, Ako, was rousing the whole country
against the German intruders. It was reported that the Polotsk prince
was coming to assist the oppressed people. In fact many elders of the
tribes had begged Vladimir to aid them. There was a great movement in
Polotsk, and the prince was making ready for a campaign, when the
embassy arrived. At the head of the embassy was Theodoric, with gifts
and pleasant words. Vladimir decided to receive the envoys, but only in
presence of the elders, who had come with complaints against the
archbishop. The reception, which began with gifts, came near ending in
a hand to hand encounter. When Vladimir asked why they came, the abbot
answered, “To strengthen peace and friendship.” The elders, on hearing
this statement, raised such a terrible outcry that the prince hastened
to end the reception, requesting the envoys to await his decision.
Theodoric immediately sent a letter of warning to Albert, and Riga
began at once to prepare for defense; the Grand Master and knights were
occupied day and night. Vladimir heard of this, and lost all hope of
seizing Riga by surprise. After consulting with his warriors, he
decided to invite the bishop to Polotsk to examine with him the
complaints made by the elders. He dismissed the Riga embassy, and with
them sent his own embassy. When they reached Kuikenos the Polotsk
embassy stopped; only one member of it went with the abbot to declare
the wish of the prince to Albert.
While the envoys were waiting Albert’s reply, they summoned all who had
complaints to make to meet at Kuikenos. The elders who had been in
Polotsk were already there, and many people came from both sides of the
river. The envoys were waiting impatiently for the bishop, when he sent
this haughty answer to their invitation. “Envoys do not summon ruling
personages to whom they are sent, but appear themselves with
obeisance.” The people who had assembled turned now to the Polotsk
envoys, asking what they were to do. The envoys could give no advice.
Thinking there was no further help from Polotsk, the unfortunate
adherents of Ako attacked Holm, where they were cut down like sheep. A
few of the insurgents were left alive to form a spectacle in Riga,
whither they were driven in chains to be executed. The archbishop had
not considered it necessary to be present at this battle. After mass,
while the abbot was still in the cathedral, a knight brought him Ako’s
bloody head as a token of victory.
The bishop found it needful to visit Europe often. He had to go to
Rome; he had to make explanations to the Bremen archbishop; he had to
see his friend, the Danish king, who was looking for his share of
profit by conversion; he had also to select German colonists and
craftsmen. While he was absent on one of these journeys, the people
rose up to avenge Ako. They went again to Vladimir, who consulted with
his warriors. “Delay not,” said they; “the blood of these people will
fall on us.” A campaign was decided upon, but the new campaign was more
unsuccessful than the first and brought more woe on the ill-fated
people. Vladimir found Riga strongly fortified. He tried to take Holm,
but failed. Suddenly news came from Riga that a great fleet was
approaching. When Vladimir heard of this, he withdrew from Holm. The
fleet was that of the Danish king, who had stopped at Riga, but only to
sail farther. Vladimir, by his weakness, had again brought destruction
on the people. The conversion of the Kors and Livs was now completed to
the remotest corner of the country. All begged for mercy, all promised
to accept baptism and the priests. The kind and faithful pastor
pacified his bishopric, until no dissenting voice was heard.
The bishop raised no question with Vladimir. He acted as though no
attack had been made. But he opened negotiations on another subject. He
pointed out that the Lithuanians were robbers, and quarrelsome, and
proposed an alliance between himself and Vladimir. In 1210 he sent an
envoy, Rudolph, to Polotsk on this business. In Polotsk they failed, it
seems, to understand that the alliance was not so precious to Albert as
the recognition by treaty that the two contracting parties had equal
rights to carry on and conclude such a treaty, a recognition, as it
were, of his own sovereignty. On one side it was arranged that the Livs
should pay the Polotsk prince an annual tribute, or the Riga archbishop
would pay it for them; on the other side, Vladimir permitted free trade
on the Dvina River. Thus did Albert settle with the capital city of
Polotsk, and with its ruling prince.
As for the petty princes of Gersiké and Kuikenos, they were treated
more unceremoniously. Wenden Castle stood on the high bank of the river
Aa, and commanded the whole region. This castle was the residence of
the Grand Master. Vyachko, Prince of Kuikenos, the unfortunate neighbor
of such barons and counts, did not deceive himself. He knew that his
fate was an evil one. The knight, Von Lenewerden, broke into Kuikenos,
occupied the place with his men, declared the inhabitants prisoners,
and put Vyachko in irons. On hearing of this, the archbishop summoned
both Vyachko and Von Lenewerden to Riga, and reconciled them. He
restored Vyachko’s property, and persuaded him, as protection for the
future, to have a German guard in his town. Soon after a band formed of
Lithuanians and Kors, occupied in sea robbery, attacked Riga on a
sudden. That day Riga hardly saved itself. The assailants fought
desperately. The Riga men, wearied almost beyond endurance, considered
their destruction as certain; but aid came unexpectedly, and the
assailants departed. They made a great fire on the seacoast, threw
their dead into it, and sailed away from Riga.
At every report of trouble in Riga, the people of the country were
encouraged to rise against their enslavers. Vyachko now rebelled. He
sent to Vladimir, the Polotsk prince, asking him to take advantage of
the trouble, and of the absence of the archbishop. Meanwhile he
destroyed the garrison brought into his city. When the archbishop
returned and learned of this act of “his assistant,” as he considered
Vyachko, he moved with the whole Order against “the rebel.” They took
everything that could be taken, and then burned the city. Thus did
Vyachko part with Kuikenos, his birthplace. The people escaped to
swamps and forests. Higher up the river was Gersiké. Albert had long
threatened Vsevolod, its petty prince, and accused him of friendship
for Lithuanians, saying that instead of guarding Riga from Lithuanians,
he made it easy for them to cross the Dvina. The archbishop now thought
it important that he should take possession of Gersiké and thus in the
eyes of the Livs become their defender against Lithuanians. The
hostility between these people and the Lithuanians, who were related to
them by race, seemed unappeasable.
Albert surprised Gersiké. Vsevolod succeeded in crossing the river and
hiding in the forest, but his wife and family were captured; everything
of value was taken, and the town burned. The archbishop was
magnanimous; he sent to Vsevolod, saying that if he wished peace and
his family he must come to Riga. Vsevolod went immediately. He called
Albert father, and asked for his family. “I will restore them,” said
the archbishop, “but art thou willing to give thy principality forever
to the Riga Cathedral?” Vsevolod thought that the archbishop meant to
rob him, but when Albert explained that he would give his possessions
back as a gift to him, with his wife and children, Vsevolod agreed to
everything. Thus did Germans settle with the petty princes.
Their success with Polotsk was more than incredible.
When the archbishop had concluded his treaty with Vladimir of Polotsk,
he strove to form just such relations with Pskoff and Novgorod. His
policy was diplomatic and cautious. He roused the tribes subject to
Novgorod by the report that the Germans had come to free them from
tribute. But after Pskoff and Novgorod warriors went through the
country beyond Odempe, and even as far as the sea, all action stopped
and the tribes settled back into obedience.
Albert now complained more and more to Pskoff and Novgorod of robber
attacks upon commerce from “unruly” subjects of Russia. He said that it
was indispensable in self-defense to put down Tolova and Torma. If he
could keep the country in his power, he could collect and send the
tribute to Pskoff and Novgorod.
Vladimir, the Pskoff prince, liked Riga and the Germans so well that he
had given his daughter to Dietrich, a brother of Albert, but for this
friendship the Pskoff people dismissed him. He then went to Riga, where
Albert received him gladly, and gave him land.
When Vladimir of Polotsk saw that Pskoff and Novgorod would make no
treaty with the archbishop, he was greatly concerned. He was uncertain
how it was best to act against his insolent neighbor, but at last he
decided to write to him touching various questions. Albert replied that
he had nothing against a friendly meeting, but where could they meet?
He could not expect the Polotsk prince to come to him, nor could he go
to Polotsk. Kuikenos now belonged to the lands of the Order. There
still remained ruined Gersiké. And in that city, in 1213, they had a
notable meeting.
The Prince of Polotsk had much to discuss with the master of Livonia.
Albert, however, would not touch upon anything that Vladimir really
wanted, and turned stubbornly to the question of how they were to act
toward a common enemy. He proposed that they act as allies, and pointed
out the great good to come from this coöperation. He said that the
treaty already concluded was too narrow; it required broadening.
Vladimir was a simple man and expressed his thought to the wily
archbishop with artless words. On a sudden he said to him: “Wilt thou
at last stop baptizing my Kors and Livs; wilt thou leave my people in
peace? They are mine absolutely, not thine. If I wish to baptize them,
I will do so, if not let them remain unbaptized.” The archbishop was
astounded. Appealing to the command of God: “Go ye and teach all
nations, baptizing them,” he asked the Polotsk prince which command
should be honored, that of God, or of man. The simple and good-natured
Vladimir replied: “That of God,” and said no more about baptism.
“Tribute is another thing,” continued Albert. “God himself established
that all who are under authority shall pay tribute to their rulers.
Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar’s.” Recently this tribute
had been stopped, but the archbishop declared that he was not to blame.
The Livonians were now begging him to free them from the yoke of
Russia. This was not pleasant for Vladimir to hear. He began with angry
words to threaten. He would burn Riga; he would not let his land be
trampled by foreign intruders; he would level their cities to the
earth. The meeting came very near ending in a battle, and nothing was
accomplished.
After Vladimir’s return to Polotsk, he grew very sad. His warriors said
not a word, but he heard the reproach: “Think what thou hast done in
giving the Germans such power. What answer canst thou render to God for
their crimes?” The people were silent, but the prince saw that they
were thinking day and night of how they could avoid falling into the
power of the foreigner. In this sorrow Vladimir continued, till at last
every one was roused and made happy by the great success of Novgorod.
About the time that Mystislav the Gallant came back to Novgorod in
1214, the insolence of the tribes incited by the archbishop had become
unendurable. Mystislav at once led his warriors into that country, and
went twice from side to side through the whole region. When he had
finished the people bowed down to him, and began as before to send
tribute to Novgorod. In 1216 Mystislav left Novgorod, but an example
had been given, and Vladimir of Polotsk recovered his courage. Soon
there was at Polotsk an immense congregation of warriors,—many Russians
and a multitude of Livs. The army was ready to move, but as Vladimir
was about to embark he stumbled in stepping from the shore to the boat,
fell into the water, and died suddenly. That ended the expedition.
Saved from Polotsk, the knights did not escape defeat from Novgorod.
They had subjected again the places won by Mystislav, but Novgorod
recovered them.
With the death of Vladimir of Polotsk, that principality ceased, as one
might say, to exist. In that region Russians and Lithuanians had so
assimilated that they were difficult to distinguish.
Vladimir was without a successor. After his death, where the German
domain ended, the Lithuanian began. There was now an independent
Livonia, and the Germans were seeking to include that region where they
had built the castle of Fellin, a region which the Danes admired as the
Revel coast. This was the Estland, or the Esthonia of Rome.
After Mystislav the Gallant had shaken the power of the Vladimir
principality by the battle of Lipetsk, and vanished forever from
Novgorod, there was an interval of quiet, beginning with 1218, which
greatly favored the Germans in their efforts to obtain Esthonia. But
the Danish king was equally anxious to get possession of this country,
or, according to his biographer, he wanted to purify his conscience
from sin and show his devotion to the Riga Mother of God; therefore he
disembarked on the coast of Livonia a numerous army.
The Danes and the Riga Germans now did their best to excel each other
at baptizing. Villages and settlements trembled at the appearance of
the “cross-bearers.” Wherever there was a battle the conquerors became
executioners, and in retaliation, whenever a soldier of the cross fell
into the hands of the natives, they burned him alive as an offering to
their god; sometimes they flayed a cross out of the flesh of his back
before burning him.
From the castle of Fellin and along the Revel coast regions, the
country had gibbets thickly planted over it. From dread of the terrible
sword and gibbet of the intruder, the people were anxious for baptism.
The Riga Germans had many priests, the Danes only a few; but when the
Danes lacked priests they used lay baptism. They collected the people
in a crowd, and baptized them all together. It happened frequently that
when the German knights came, people fell on their knees and cried: “We
are baptized already.” There were cases where the two crowds of
missionaries met, and one took its converts from the other by force of
arms. The hatred of the baptizers for each other became so great that
the archbishop went to Rome to complain of the Danes, but he found
there envoys from the Danish king on a similar errand. The Pope
confirmed the Revel coast to the Danish king; afterward, however, the
whole land went to Riga.
The Kors and Livs had not been able to save themselves under the
protection of Polotsk, neither were these tribes protected by Novgorod.
In five or six years, that is between 1218 and 1224, their evil fate
was settled. During that period princes changed several times in
Novgorod; and the Pskoff men gravely considered in their meetings the
question of making an alliance with Riga. Complaint against Novgorod
was general. “Our Novgorod brothers,” said they, “come to take tribute
of rebellious tribes and then go home quickly; when they are gone we
suffer doubly on their account. A bad peace with Germans is better than
such brotherly assistance.”
At this period Lithuanians were troubled greatly by refugees of their
own stock, who had been driven out of Prussia. These people, urged by
the Livonian knights, made raids against Novgorod. Warring continually
with its new enemy, Novgorod was not able to properly defend its
possessions on the coast, and so asked aid of Yuri of Vladimir. Yuri
sent Sviatoslav, his brother, with troops. There was a battle at
Wenden, the knights were defeated, and the castle was besieged, but the
Grand Master succeeded in bringing in reinforcements, and the Russians,
satisfied with their booty, withdrew.
The Letts, who were obedient to the Germans and under their lead, now
threatened Pskoff. The whole country about there, called Esthonia by
the Germans, consisted of warring fragments now under German, and now
under Russian command. Odempe, Izborsk, and Yurieff passed from hand to
hand. The people suffered from the Russians because they yielded to the
Germans, and from the Germans because they went back to the Russians.
It would be impossible to count all the campaigns and raids of that
troubled time.
The archbishop was hated for his cruelty. Populations whom he came to
convert were filled with terror by his presence; they submitted to
baptism, but they washed it away quickly when he was gone.
To their assistance came the Novgorod prince, Yaroslav, son of Big
Nest. When on his way to Riga, envoys came to him from the Sea-Fins,
from the island of Izel, and begged him to defend them from the Danes.
The country from Izborsk and Yurieff toward Fellin seemed free of the
enemy. It remained to drive the Danes from the Revel coast, strengthen
Revel and build a stone fortress there. When Yaroslav approached
Fellin, a fearful sight met his eyes; traces of the terrible knights
were everywhere; villages had been burned; in places the earth was red
with blood; there were gibbets with bodies swinging from them. The
knights had retaken Fellin, and the Russian garrison had been
slaughtered. Yaroslav and his forces went through the country to the
sea, approached Kolivan and besieged the castle of Revel for nearly a
month. The Danes defended the place valiantly. At that stage, Yaroslav
took counsel of the Novgorod men, and decided to abandon the siege for
a large tribute in gold. The Pskoff people considered this ending of
the campaign inglorious, and blamed their “brothers of Novgorod” for
their selfish conduct. But even this campaign did not shake the faith
of the people in their Russian defenders.
Yurieff and the country around struggled against the knights till
completely exhausted. While waiting for promised reinforcements from
Novgorod, a few Russian champions and native people fought with the
whole force of Livonian knights. This party of brave men was led by the
most insignificant prince of all Russia, that Prince Vyachko, from whom
the archbishop had taken his native place, Kuikenos. His name, however,
had acquired great notoriety among the Germans, for he was their most
irreconcilable enemy. From Kuikenos, Vyachko had gone to Yurieff, and
there he gave the Germans no peace. He strengthened the place, and made
savage raids on all sides. At last the archbishop decided, cost what it
might, to take Yurieff, that hateful den where all the “malefactors and
traitors” had assembled, as well as many of the bitterest enemies of
the church in Livonia, and where they were commanded by that prince
who, from the beginning, had been the root of all evil.
The archbishop himself took part in this campaign, bringing with him a
multitude of knights from various parts of Germany. The Knights of
Livonia assisted with all their strength. The place was surrounded and
besieged. In addition to the usual engines of war, the Germans had a
movable tower as high as the walls of the city. Under cover of this
tower, they began to dig a tunnel. Meanwhile they entered into
negotiations with Vyachko, offering him a free escape with all the
Russians, horses and arms, if he would surrender the fortress and with
it the natives who had found shelter within its walls. Vyachko gave an
answer which the archbishop called shameless and insolent, and in
Russian style.
After the refusal of terms, the siege continued with redoubled force.
The knights complained of the great loss inflicted upon them by the
garrison of the fortress, which day after day, made desperate sallies.
At last, fearing that relief might come to the besieged, the Germans
determined to storm the place. Next morning at daybreak, a fierce
assault was made, but it was repulsed. Later on the besieged made an
opening in the wall just opposite the tower, and hurled out blazing
stuff to burn down the structure. The besiegers rushed to extinguish
the fire, and in the general excitement and uproar certain knights made
their way through the opening in the wall. Once inside, they spared no
one; a terrible struggle ensued. Meanwhile the place was fired by its
defenders, who had sworn to perish to the last man in case of defeat.
The Germans captured but one man, who later on was sent to Novgorod,
with a message that Yurieff was taken.
When this messenger arrived, and announced that help was not needed,
that all had perished, there was great sadness in the city, for the
warriors were on the eve of marching to relieve the besieged.
Not long after this, Pskoff, still fighting with Novgorod, made a
friendly alliance and treaty with Riga. This happened when Novgorod men
were continually sending away Prince Yaroslav and recalling him. It is
not to be wondered at that while there was such internal dissension and
disagreement between Novgorod men themselves, and between Novgorod and
Pskoff, the Germans succeeded in Esthonia. Whatever the peace terms
were between Pskoff and Riga, the Germans had become an acknowledged
and independent power on the Baltic coast of Russia.
Yaroslav, about this time, went to Pereyaslavl on the Alta, and Yuri of
Vladimir, who had married the daughter of Chermny, gave Novgorod to his
brother-in-law, Michael. Thereupon Yaroslav, opposing Yuri, drove
Michael from Novgorod, and conquered Chernigoff.
Remembering how he had been driven from Pereyaslavl by Chermny,
Yaroslav occupied that region which once had belonged to him.
Remembering also how on a time he had been invited to reign in Galitch,
he extended his views beyond Kief to Carpathian Russia. But a slight
failure in the South caused him to return to Pereyaslavl Beyond the
Forest, not taking his eye for a moment, however, from Novgorod.
Working now against Yuri, he strove to incite him to quarrel with his
nephews, Vassilko and Vsevolod, sons of Constantine, the first of whom
was Prince of Rostoff, the second Prince of Yaroslav on the Volga.
Ten years had passed since the death of Big Nest in 1212,—years filled
with strife, disorder and conflict. A second ten years had begun. That
which had troubled Russia in the past threatened in the future, with
the end not in sight. And so it continued until a thunderbolt fell, as
it were from the sky, “a punishment for the sins of many generations,
and for all the injustice and lawlessness committed from one generation
to another. The anger which was preparing on high,” as the chronicler
says, “and was delayed by the long suffering of God, burst forth at
last.”
And now comes the period of vast and radical changes in Russia.
These changes were caused indirectly by the Polovtsi in 1224, who,
fearing greatly the dauntless Mongols, who were attacking them,
appealed to the Christian princes. “They have seized our country,” said
the Polovtsi. “To-morrow they will seize yours.” Mystislav the Gallant,
taking advantage of this opportunity to crush a possible future enemy,
persuaded other princes of Southern Russia to join him in aiding the
Polovtsi. Basti, Khan of these idolatrous Polovtsi, embraced Orthodoxy
to cement the alliance with the Russians, and the army moved forward
without delay. Upon reaching the lower Dnieper, the Russians, under
Mystislav the Gallant, Daniel, Prince of Volynia, Mystislav, Grand
Prince of Kief, Oleg of Kursk, Mystislav of Chernigoff, Vladimir of
Smolensk, and Vsevolod, for a short time Prince of Novgorod, were met
by envoys from the Mongols, who tried to persuade them to abandon the
cause of the Polovtsi, saying: “The Mongols have nothing against the
Russians. It is the pagans whom we wish to destroy. We are as the
Russians in that we worship the one God. Profit by our offer, and
avenge yourselves upon the enemy who has warred against you in the
past.” The envoys were seized and put to death immediately, and the
Russians continued their march.
At the Kalka, a small stream flowing into the Sea of Azoff, they
encountered the Mongol forces, led by two great commanders, Subotai and
Chepé. Mystislav the Gallant, Daniel of Volynia, and Oleg of Kursk,
wishing to win for themselves all the glory of the victory, rushed
forward without the aid of the Prince of Kief, and even without warning
him of their intention. The Polovtsi advanced also but when the
critical moment of the struggle came, they were seized with panic, and
fell back upon their Russian allies, thus throwing them into terrible
disorder. The defeat was overwhelming; hardly a tenth of the men under
those rash leaders escaped, six princes and seventy distinguished
voevodas were killed. Mystislav of Kief, abandoned by the army, tried
to defend himself in his hastily fortified camp on the banks of the
Kalka. The Mongols offered him his life and the lives of his
sons-in-law if he would surrender and pay them a ransom for himself and
his personal following. Knowing well that he could not successfully
contend with the victors, he surrendered. But the Mongols did not
regard their promise; they massacred Mystislav’s men, and putting the
three princes under heavy planks, they sat upon those planks and
feasted while the unfortunate Russians died in the greatest agony.
After this victory, the Mongols returned to the East, vanished, and
were not seen again for thirteen years.
Mystislav died four years after that disastrous battle on the Kalka,
and sad was the end of his glory. He began a war on Volynia by reason
of a calumny that his son-in-law, Daniel, was trying to deprive him of
Galitch,—nay more, there was a direct accusation that Daniel intended
to kill him. These accusations were brought against Daniel by Bailski.
Later on, Mystislav repented and became friendly with Daniel. He gave
rich presents to his daughter Anna, the wife of Daniel, and gave Daniel
his best horse, Aklaz. No steed on earth, as he thought, was the equal
of that one, for had he not brought him alive from the terrible
slaughter on the Kalka. Nevertheless Mystislav betrothed his youngest
daughter to the son of Andrei of Hungary, and gave his son-in-law
Peremysl at the advice of boyars in Galitch, chief among whom was
Sudislav “the traitor,” as people still called him. In bringing
Mystislav to give his daughter to the king’s son, these men believed
that Galitch would fall to Hungary a second time, and their efforts
were directed toward that object very earnestly. All at once a report
spread that Mystislav the Gallant had decided to go to the lower
country and give Galitch to his father-in-law, Kotyan, a Polovtsi khan.
This report was monstrous, and invented doubtless by tricksters, still
Galitch men were so greatly alarmed because of it, that many left the
country and went to Hungary.
The prince contradicted this lie before all the people. He sent
Timofei, his confessor, to the fugitives; he persuaded them to return,
but soon after the king himself came into Galitch with a numerous army,
and insisted that Galitch be given to his son immediately. Mystislav
prepared now for battle. This last battle fought by the hero was as
decisive and brilliant as any which preceded it. The king’s army was
crushed. The king himself fled with maddened mind and shattered body.
There was a rumor that this disaster had been foretold him. “Thou wilt
not live, if thou see Galitch,” were the reputed words of a wizard whom
King Andrei asked to soothsay as he was leaving Hungary.
Mystislav’s allies, Daniel and Vassilko, who fought against Leshko, and
did not let the Poles help King Andrei, brought their regiments to
Galitch and strove to make Mystislav pursue the defeated army.
Mystislav was unwilling to do this; Sudislav and the boyars, not
wishing the ruin of the king, in whom lay their great hope, opposed
with all their power; and the war with Hungary ended in nothing.
Mystislav, weary of the utter faithlessness of the boyars, resolved to
leave Galitch. This resolution delighted the boyars; but they warned
him immediately that the hatred of the country toward him reached also
to Daniel, hence they advised him to give Galitch to the king’s son as
a dowry for his daughter. This advice they strengthened by the
following words: “If thou give Galitch to the king’s son as dowry for
thy daughter, thou canst withdraw it later on, should the wish come,
but if thou yield now to Daniel, Galitch will never be thine again.”
Mystislav made no answer, but he did as they advised. He married his
daughter to the king’s son and then gave them Galitch, thus acting as a
traitor toward Russia. He withdrew after that, and lived on the Ros in
Podolia.
Daniel, though deceived and disappointed most cruelly, did not utter a
word of complaint. He remained true to Mystislav, and grew stronger and
stronger in Volynia. Mystislav the Silent who admired Daniel greatly,
left him the province of Lutsk, but Daniel had to use force to obtain
this inheritance, for not only Bailski but Yaroslav, the nephew of
Mystislav the Silent, raised arms against him. Knowing Mystislav the
Gallant’s affection for these princes Daniel sent his own trusty friend
to explain the situation to his father-in-law, who was glad to
communicate directly with Daniel, from whom he had allowed himself to
be separated by false and intriguing boyars. Explanations made,
Mystislav sent a secret message to Daniel: “My son,” said he, “I sinned
in not giving thee Galitch. The boyars deceived me through Sudislav the
Traitor. Go with God’s assistance against them. I will summon the
Polovtsi to aid thee, and do thou move with thy own men. God give thee
Galitch, and I will stay here.”
In this way the old man hoped to repair his shortcomings, but he died
soon after in Torchesk. Aware that death was approaching he begged to
see Daniel; he wished to commit all his house to him, since he had
perfect trust in his honesty. The crafty boyars, however, prevented
this meeting, and Mystislav the Gallant died in lonely Torchesk,
without seeing his son-in-law. Of his end it is only known that when he
fell ill, in 1228, he retired to a monastery and assumed the monk’s
habit. He left all Podolia to Daniel, but for this inheritance a
general war broke out quickly in Volynia, Galitch, Kief and Chernigoff,
involving all Southern Russia in bloodshed.