THE MONGOL INVASION
After Vladimir of Smolensk had perished at the Kalka, Vladimir, son of
Rurik, who returned from that disastrous battle, took the Kief throne
as the senior prince and favorite cousin of Mystislav, whose support he
enjoyed till the death of the latter. But no sooner had Mystislav gone
from the world than there rose storms of trouble because of the Kief
principality. Vladimir called to mind quickly the offense of Daniel’s
father, who had forced the tonsuring of Rurik. And for this act of the
dead Roman he went now to take revenge on the living.
As Prince of Kief, Vladimir concluded an alliance with Michael of
Chernigoff, and both began war against Daniel. They would not let him
have Podolia, and were jealous of his claim upon Galitch. Daniel now
made an alliance with the Poles, and, since the chief troops brought
against him were Polovtsi, Daniel asked Kotyan, who was his wife’s
grandfather, to put a stop to the war. “Oh, father,” begged he, “stop
this war; take me into thy friendship.” The Khan immediately dropped
his allies and made a movement in favor of Daniel, crushing all that he
met on his way. Then he vanished, and the war ceased of itself, without
much injury to Daniel.
Thankful for this service, Daniel made no use of the Poles, and
dismissed his ally, who had not lost a warrior. Vladimir, son of Rurik,
deserted by the Polovtsi, made peace with Daniel, and soon after begged
his aid against Michael. This Michael of Chernigoff, so recently an
ally of Vladimir, was now trying to force him from Kief, since he
greatly desired that ancient city for his own use.
From 1230 to 1240 war raged throughout Galitch and Volynia, Chernigoff,
and Kief. More than once did Vladimir flee from Kief to be succeeded by
Michael; more than once was Michael deprived of his possessions. All
Southern Russia, from the San and the Dniester to the Desna, was the
alternate and fleeting possession of Michael and his brothers, or of
the men who opposed them, namely, Vladimir and Daniel. Each side had
its victory, but each met defeat somewhat later. Daniel brought aid
many times to Vladimir. In one of these campaigns the two men crossed
the Dnieper and captured Chernigoff; they warred on the Desna, and
captured many towns in other places. More than once Michael appeared
with his troops on the San and the Dniester. He seized Galitch and left
his son and heir, Rostislav, to reign there. At times Michael gave
towns to Daniel; at times he drove him unsparingly from Galitch
regions. At times one of them fled from the other to Hungary,
alternately they were hostile and friendly to each other. Once Daniel
and Vladimir were defeated by Michael and the Polovtsi, which he led
in. Vladimir was captured by those same Polovtsi and could not, for
some time, buy his freedom. On the day that Vladimir was captured a
horse was killed under Daniel, who barely escaped with his life from
that battle-field. Then again not only did Michael lose Kief and
Galitch, he lost Chernigoff also. At last Michael was brought to such
straits that he begged for peace earnestly, and made amends to Daniel.
“Much have I sinned against thee,” said he. “I have not held to my
promises, I have done great harm to thee, but how many times have I
wished to act otherwise, though unable, for the faith-breaking boyars
of Galitch would never permit me. Now I take oath that with thee I will
never have enmity.” So Daniel, with his brother Vassilko, received
Michael as a relative.
But this happened in 1239, when Michael’s dominions had been turned to
a terrible wilderness, and the city of Chernigoff was a ruin. Up to
that ghastly period wars and dissensions were constant in Southern
Russia. During that troubled time Kief was without a prince really, for
it passed from one hand to another so frequently that the interval
during which one prince was winning the place from another was often
far longer than the time he sat on the throne after winning it. Instead
of asking who in that period of unrest ruled Kief, one might better ask
who of prominent princes was not its ruler. The same was true of
Galitch. It was difficult to say who reigned there.
In 1229 some of the Galitch men, faithful to the people, secretly
invited Daniel to come and rule in their land. At his approach, boyars
favorable to Hungary closed the gates of the city, burned the bridge on
the Dniester, and used every possible means to oppose him. But the
people from Ushitsa, Bobrok and Pruth regions marched in from all
quarters to meet the prince “born to them,” and no party had sufficient
power to check them.
Daniel, forgetting the king’s opposition, and remembering only his
personal kindness, did no harm to Prince Bela, who was Mystislav’s
son-in-law. He allowed him to go back to Hungary, and even went with
him to the Dniester. The intriguing boyars bowed now before Daniel, and
only one of them, Sudislav the Traitor, went with the king’s son. The
people threw stones at this boyar, and shouted: “Be off, thou
disturber, thou traitor!”
The next year, however, a new plot was formed against Daniel, and
during the decade setting in with 1230 conspiracies and disturbances
did not cease throughout Galitch. The boyars called Daniel prince, but
seized for themselves everything in the country. A dissolution of all
social bonds and a general decay of loyalty spread with rising
rapidity. Formerly only boyars such as Sudislav or Volodislav, called
Red Hair, were exalted, but now a great host broke in, boyars of whom
no man had heard until that day; notorious were Voldrys and Klimyata,
but no one knew of what stock they were. One Dobruslav seized the whole
lower country, though he had no more right to it than a robber. At the
same time a certain Grigory Vassilevitch took the upper part of
Peremysl. A priest’s grandson, one Suditch, plundered actively on every
side. Famous also were Lazar Domajiritch and Ivor Molibojitch, two
lawless men of low origin. Such boyars “made great disturbance and
robbed much,” says the chronicler. And these men were managing the
fortunes of Galitch, treating now with Hungarians, now with Poles, and
now with Russian princes. From one side they rushed to another, and
again turned from that one with offers of service to him who could
promise the profit at which they were grasping. In such a condition of
Galitch Daniel now lost his heritage, not preserving one foot of land
for himself in all that great region, and then again he returned to the
throne of his father with apparent security.
The Hungarian king, at the advice of boyars, came sometimes himself,
and sometimes he sent his sons thither. Bailski, with his brethren,
took the side of the boyars and rose up in arms against Daniel. Finally
Michael of Chernigoff appeared to take vengeance on Daniel for
harassing his land, but, besides this, Michael remembered the offense
against his own kinsmen in Galitch, the vile death inflicted by boyars
on Igor’s sons. There, on the spot where their blood had been shed in
the city of Galitch, he felt it his duty to win back the honor of his
family. Hence Galitch was torn into bits and was ruled at short
intervals, now by its own men, and now by outsiders. More than once
intriguing boyars fell at Daniel’s feet and begged mercy, for the
common people adhered to him firmly at all times. At last Bailski
ceased his scheming: “I see myself,” said he to Daniel, “that I can be
with no one but thee.” And then the Poles made peace with Daniel. Next
the Hungarian king, Bela IV, made peace.
But each success gained by Daniel was followed by the treason of
boyars. Now they conspired to burn him and his brother in their palace;
now to assassinate them at table while feasting. And again they roused
Bailski against Daniel.
Then they summoned in Daniel’s enemies from other regions of Russia, to
be followed by renewed inroads of Poles and Hungarians. Michael of
Chernigoff once more entered into greater friendship with Hungary than
with Daniel. He arranged a marriage of his son, Rostislav, to one of
Bela’s many daughters, and maintained a continual alliance with Poland.
Such was the state of affairs during the dreadful ten years which
succeeded 1230.
Yaroslav, son of Big Nest, held Kief as prince in 1237. We know not
from whom he received it, but the place fell to him without a struggle.
There were two princes then who might have claimed the throne, each
insignificant,—Vladimir, son of Rurik, who was still in debt for a part
of his ransom to the Polovtsi, and Izyaslav. It may be that Yaroslav
took Kief from these men. He left it on hearing that the city of
Vladimir was destroyed by the Mongols.
Michael of Chernigoff now took Kief, and put his son in Galitch, but in
1239 he left Kief because the Mongols had ruined Pereyaslavl and
Chernigoff on the Alta, and were moving against the ancient capital.
The Mongols sent envoys to Michael demanding surrender. The Kief people
seized those envoys and slew them. Michael fled straightway. Now from
Smolensk came Rostislav, son of Mystislav, but he was driven out
immediately by Daniel, who had at last won Galitch and mastered it
thoroughly. But though Daniel had Kief, he himself did not enter it,
but he sent Dmitri, his boyar, to hold the place.
Daniel had completely overcome his opponents on every side. He now
surpassed all southern princes, and was stronger than his father had
ever been, for he had Kief in addition to Galitch and Volynia, but this
was in 1239, when the dreadful hour was approaching, and it was too
late to enjoy any fruit from the battles and toils which he had passed
through. The very next year Kief was turned into “corpses, and ruins
and ashes,” and Daniel was soon to receive the Mongol command: “Yield
Galitch, and level thy walls in Volynia.”
It is remarkable that the Mongol tempest was preceded not only by
countless wars and mad quarrels, which produced immense suffering and
anguish, but by the appearance of such omens in the sky and such
marvels on all sides that ceaseless terror was born of them everywhere.
Beginning with 1224, the fateful year of the Kalka disaster, the whole
course of nature seemed changed throughout Russia. There was an
unheard-of dry season, and a hazy heat with it; pitchy forests were
burning and turf swamps were smoking all over the country; birds had
not strength to fly, and fell down inanimate. In the autumn appeared a
great comet; after sunset it lighted up the whole heavens, extending
like a long, awful lance from the west toward the east. There were
tales of floods overwhelming distant places. There were reports also of
raging fires. Novgorod burned so that the flames crossed the river; all
thought the end of the city was before them. In Vladimir there was a
fire such as no man remembered. Besides this, there were earthquakes.
In Vladimir, during mass, the holy images in churches began to quiver,
the walls of the city were trembling. In Kief the stone church of the
Holy Virgin sank at the corners. More than once was the sun darkened.
Men who knew the movements of heavenly bodies strove to pacify people
by explaining that the moon had gone through the sky, stopped in front
of the sun, and thus hid it. But the sun was affected in other ways;
once, while rising, it was like a small star, and no one could see
where its size had gone; then suddenly it appeared in full greatness;
another time it sent immense pillars of light through the skies, which
were green, blue and purple. Especially terrible was it in Kief; from
these pillars of many-colored light a fiery cloud formed, which the
wind carried forward till it brooded above the whole city. People fell
on their knees and prayed to the Lord to have mercy; they took farewell
of one another, feeling sure that the end of all life was then near
them. The fiery cloud dropped, moved aside, and fell into the Dnieper,
where it vanished without injury to any man. There was terrible famine
in places, above all in Novgorod; there were neither dogs nor cats left
for food in the city; men killed their own brothers and ate them; then
there was pestilence. In Novgorod there were not graveyards to hold all
the corpses, and fences were made around new ones, in which forty-two
thousand people were buried. In Smolensk they laid out four new
graveyards; in two of these sixteen thousand were buried; in the third
seven thousand, and in the fourth nine thousand.
Confused and scattered stories of a terrible invasion were spread among
people. From the East, from the land of the Bulgars of the Volga, came
reports of ill-omen, and then the tale of the “Mongol” became
universal. “Oh, that is they!” was heard now in all places. “It is they
who gave the Russian princes that awful defeat on the Kalka!”
But who these pagans were, no man could indicate. According to report,
they came of impure races hidden away in unknown regions. It was said
that there was a prophecy of old concerning those people which said:
“They will come before time ends, and capture all places.”
The Mongols burst in from the Trans-Volga regions, through those open
spaces called much later on the steppes of Tamboff and Saratoff, and
attacked Ryazan boundaries.
The Mongol army was enormous for that time. It seemed to the Russians
as though a whole people were moving from one part of the earth to the
other. This army was led by Batu, the great Jinghis Khan’s grandson,
the son of his eldest son, Juchi.
In attacking a region the Mongols surrounded it, as beaters surround
game in a forest, and moved toward a fixed point of meeting. Batu sent
envoys to Ryazan, and with them went an enchantress. The presence of
this woman alarmed the Ryazan people greatly. The envoys brought this
message: “Give one tenth of everything: one prince in ten; one man in
ten of the common people; give every tenth one from black, white,
brown, and pied horses; from every kind of beast, give one out of ten;
and of all wealth and all products give the tenth part to us.”
The princes met, and when they had counseled together they sent back
this answer: “When no one of us is living, what is left will belong to
you.”
The Mongols advanced with fire and sword toward the capital. The time
was December, 1237, and January, 1238.
To prevent these invaders from entering settled places, the princes
marched out to meet them in steppe lands. Flinging themselves on the
advancing hordes, they fought with desperate bravery, only to be
crushed and destroyed utterly. Ingvar, who was at that time in
Chernigoff, with Kolovrat, a voevoda, seeking warriors and imploring
the Polovtsi to help him, returned home to a desert. Towns and villages
were charred ruins, and contained only corpses which beasts of prey and
foul birds were devouring. Dead princes, voevodas and warriors lay in
the frozen grass, snow-covered. Only at long intervals appeared people,
who had been able to hide in the forest, and who came out now to weep
over the ruin of their homes.
The Mongols not only surrounded the city of Ryazan with an army, but
with a wall as well, and they strengthened this wall in places with
firm palisades. This they called “driving the pig in.” Thus they
expressed themselves, delighted that no one could escape when the city
was taken. After they had finished their wall, they put up rams for
battering the city walls in, and prepared ladders for storming.
The Ryazan men resisted many days, and fought with desperation. They
inflicted great loss on the Mongols, but, as was clear, they were
weakening. Since they did not let their weapons go out of their hands,
they were sure to be conquered in the end by weariness. The Mongols
relieved their own storming parties, they gave those men rest, and sent
forward fresh regiments. At last they succeeded in crushing the walls
down and firing the city by hurling in heavy stones and blazing
substances. On December 21, 1237, they mounted the breaches, and
through fire, smoke and slaughter burst into the city.
At the same time, in the region about Ryazan, through all villages and
monasteries, similar seizures and slaughters were enacted. For the
Mongols it was not enough to capture cities and towns; they destroyed
all the people from the aged to infants. They amused themselves with
inflicting various kinds of cruel death singly; they loved also to kill
men in multitudes. Made drunk, as it were, by abundance of bloodshed,
they rose to a wild, boundless ecstasy.
For many days this rejoicing and slaughter continued. Then groans and
wails ceased in the ruined city and its environs, and all was silent.
There was no one to wail, no one to groan, since all were lying dead
and frozen. When the Mongols had vanished naught remained but blackened
stones and charred remnants. Of many towns, cities and villages,
nothing was left except stones, and cinders and dead bodies. It might
almost be said that the Ryazan principality existed no longer. Those
ill-fated princes, when the Mongols appeared on their southern border,
sent to beg aid of Prince Yuri of Vladimir, and their relatives in
Chernigoff. Kolovrat, who had been sent to Chernigoff, led back some
men to the ruins of his birthplace. Amazed and maddened when he saw
those ruins, he rushed forward to strike the rear of the Mongols. He
overtook them at night, as they were leaving the Ryazan borders. The
Mongols were terrified when they saw him. “Are not those the dead of
Ryazan,” cried they, “who have risen and come to avenge their own
deaths on us?”
Those unknown Russians fought like furies. Then, seizing the swords
from Mongols slain by them, and dropping their own weapons, they cut
and slashed with more fury than ever. There was uproar and chaos in the
whole Mongol army. The Mongols succeeded, however, in capturing five of
the raging pursuers, whom they took to the Khan, their commander. “Who
are ye?” asked the Khan. “Wonder not, O Tsar,” answered they, “that we
have strength to fill the cup of death for all Mongols. We are servants
of Prince Ingvar; we are of Kolovrat’s regiment, sent to conduct thee
and thy warriors with honor. We conduct as many as we are able.”
Tavrul, Batu’s brother-in-law, offered to seize Kolovrat. He went out
on an unterrified steed against him, but Kolovrat cut the Mongol in
two, from his head to the saddle on which he was sitting. Then the
Mongols surrounded the handful of heroes, who stood like a fortress,
and not one of them yielded. All of those warriors were slain after
desperate fighting. The Khan praised the dead men, and gave the five
living their freedom. “The Russians know well,” said he, “how to drink
the death cup with their princes.”
Prince Yuri gave no aid to Ryazan. He said he would move against the
enemy in person, and act separately.
The Mongols turned now against Yuri. The old road from Ryazan to
Vladimir lay through Kolomna and Moscow, in a country comparatively
rich and well settled. Yuri sent troops to both cities. To Kolomna he
sent his own son Vsevolod, and to Moscow another son, Vladimir, so
young that Philip, the voevoda, was attached to his person. Leaving
wife and family in Vladimir, confident that they would be safe within
its walls, he himself hurried northward to levy warriors, and make
ready for action. His nephews from Rostoff and Yaroslavl, the sons of
Constantine, hastened to join his forces, and he hoped for the return
of his brother, Yaroslav, with regiments from Kief.
The Mongols made no useless delay at Kolomna. They slaughtered the
inhabitants and burned down the city. One of the Ryazan princes, who
had survived, joined at Kolomna the army sent out by Yuri, but in the
battle which followed almost immediately every man fell except Yuri’s
son. He escaped by fleeing swiftly to Vladimir, to meet a worse death
in that doomed city.
A fate like that of Kolomna soon struck Moscow; the place was stormed
and sacked. Philip was killed, with other defenders, who fell fighting
bravely. While the Mongols were dividing the rich spoils and rejoicing,
they burned the city. Ordinary prisoners were killed quickly, those of
distinction were crucified, flayed alive or burned. Yuri’s son,
Vladimir, they took with them. The countless army, that same army of
which Arabian historians wrote that on its path “the earth groaned,
birds dropped dead, and wild beasts lost their senses,” opened now and
moved away in various directions. From these divisions still smaller
ones separated and marched off on all roads. They took in towns and
settlements as a net gathers fish under water. People fled from cities
and villages in crowds. They hid in caves, in dark forests, and in
gullies, not knowing how to escape or whither they should go for
refuge. Those who were near heard from those who had come from afar
that Mongols were everywhere slaying, burning, robbing churches, and
cutting down old and young as they traveled. Others were leading a
multitude of captives to their camps. It brought terror to look at
those captives, barefoot and bloodless.
February 3, 1238, the Mongols appeared at Vladimir and surrounded the
city. The Vladimir men rejected proposals of surrender, and saw with
dismay how the enemy strengthened their camp, and began preparations
for storming. Mongol leaders rode round the city and surveyed its
defenses. Then, to the amazement of all, an immense crowd of mounted
commanders approached the main gate of the city, and asked, “Is Prince
Yuri among you?” The people answered with arrows. The commanders
replied in the same way, sending each of them an arrow at the crosses
on the bell-towers glittering with golden tops in the sunlight. Then
they made signs to stop shooting and negotiate. When the Vladimir men
desisted, to see what would happen, the Mongols showed Yuri’s young son
made prisoner in Moscow, and asked if they knew him. A cry rose.
Vsevolod and Mystislav, brothers of the captive, wished to sally forth
and save him, but they were held back by the people. All, from the
voevoda to the last man in the city, swore to fight while life
remained. All declared that they were ready to die for God’s churches,
and those simple words were no idle sounds from those people.
The bishops of Vladimir counseled every one to prepare for death and
the last hour, to have this passing life in their memories no longer;
and assured them that Christ would forget no one made worthy through
the crown of a martyr. All who heard these words began to work
valiantly. From old to young, every man was to fight on the walls, or
wherever the need was. All armed themselves for the coming storm and
the battle. On the second or third day of the siege, news spread
through the city that Suzdal had been taken, that Rostoff had yielded.
Men on the walls saw on the Suzdal road Mongol regiments approaching
rapidly, and then they saw men, women, monks, nuns and a multitude of
people led captive.
That day the Mongols worked from early morning till nightfall, pulling
up timber, and engines, and planting their wall-crushing instruments.
Next morning it appeared that they had not been idle in the night-time.
A wooden wall now encircled the city. For the last twenty-four hours no
man in Vladimir had slept. No person had undressed for a week past. All
knew that their city was doomed. The princes, and Yuri’s whole family,
many of the boyars and the people had put on the monk’s habit, making
ready for death with great earnestness.
On Sunday February 14, 1238, the city was stormed and captured. At
daybreak the Mongols were on the walls, and before midday their work
was accomplished. They did not occupy all parts immediately, though
they broke in at once on many sides,—on the Klyazma, the Lybed, the
Golden Gate, and the Valski sides. At one side they made a long mound,
traces of which are seen even to our day. They went up along this mound
and came down inside the walls on their ladders.
The new city was covered with corpses. In the old city there was a
stubborn defense and great slaughter. Savage fighting went on outside
the walls as well. The Mongols killed every man who tried to escape.
Then began the sack of Vladimir. Wherever Mongols entered, they seized
what they found; they stripped the churches, taking everything of
value; wherever they met with resistance, they brought piles of wood
and burned all before them.
When the enemy sprang in over the walls every person in Vladimir who
could carry a weapon rushed “to drink the cup of death” promptly,
knowing well that resistance was fruitless. The young princes, who
thought to break through the enemy, were cut to pieces. The voevoda,
Pyotr Oslyadukovitch, pressed heavily on the Mongols with his
“children,” that is, the whole population of Vladimir, who did not
desert him. They fought fiercely on the walls, and at the walls outside
the city, and on all streets within it. Blood flowed till midday, and
not to win victory, for that, as they knew, was impossible, but to kill
as many infidels as they could, and die fighting for the holy Orthodox
faith and for their country.
The Mongol multitude crushed all before it; numbers conquered
everywhere. The new and the old city were taken by assault, and the
capital was burning from side to side in one vast conflagration.
Yuri’s princess, with her relatives, daughters-in-law and
grandchildren, all the wives and daughters of boyars, many of the
people and clergy with wives and children, and the bishop himself had
taken refuge in the Vladimir cathedral. The smoke and flame of the
city’s burning had reached the walls of this edifice, while round about
were heard the shouts of the oncoming Mongols. Those inside the
building sought safety in the galleries. Suffocating from smoke, they
would have gone down again, but there was a dense crowd below pressing
upward. The Mongols forced open the door of the cathedral and, rushing
in, seized gold and silver, and all the church vessels. They cut and
hewed down those persons who had not hidden, and those who were trying
to get to the galleries. Then they brought sticks and brushwood, filled
the place well with fuel, and set fire to it. Smoke rose in columns
within the cathedral. The roar of the burning building and the cries of
victory from the wild conquerors were heard in one dull groaning
thunder, mingling with the wails, shrieks and prayers of the dying. The
bishop blessed all at their parting, crying: “O Lord, stretch thy
unseen hands to us, and receive the souls of thy people.” The massive
walls of the cathedral did not fall; they withstood the fire and have
remained in integrity to our time.
The horrors of Ryazan were repeated in Vladimir. Only young women,
nuns, and strong laborers were led away captive. The sick, the infirm,
the weak and the aged were slaughtered at once, and without mercy.
Smoking ruins alone were left of the beautiful city of Vladimir. When
the Mongols marched away from the remnant of the capital, there was not
a groan, or a cry to be heard from the people, for all who were in that
city were lying dead.
To overtake Yuri and destroy his forces was no difficult task for the
savage invaders. They found him in Yaroslavl regions, on the banks of
the Siti. Among other princes was Vassilko, his favorite nephew, a son
of Constantine, whom his dying father had asked Yuri to treat as one of
his own sons. Crushed by news from Vladimir, Yuri seemed dazed, and
repeated unceasingly: “Why am I left, why do I not die with them?”
Grief for children and wife was swallowed up in his anguish over the
destruction of the city, the people, the bishop, and the clergy.
Volunteers who were pouring in brought similar tidings from every part:
“The enemy are slaying all people, burning all places; they are
everywhere!” Only one thing remained: retreat to the distant north. But
from Vologda, and even from Galitch beyond the Volga, came news of the
same universal slaughter and destruction. Three thousand men, sent as
scouts to the north, returned with these tidings: “The enemy are
attacking off there, they are around us far and near, they are
everywhere.”
Soon the struggle began on the Siti, and became straightway a most
terrible massacre. Numbers crushed everything. The Mongols had scarcely
begun when they had victory. Those people who were not mortally
wounded, and who rose from the battle field, and a few who were
unwounded fled, and hid in the forests. Yuri, Grand Prince of Vladimir,
lay dead in a great pile of bodies,—his head was not with his body.
More terrible still was the death of Vassilko. The young prince was
taken alive by the Mongols. Attractive in mind and in person, his men
said of him that whoso had served him would not serve another. He
pleased also the Mongols. Batu strove to incline him to friendship.
“Oh, dark kingdom of vileness,” answered Vassilko, “God has given me
into thy hands, but thou canst not separate me from Christians.” He
would take neither food nor drink from the pagans. Enraged at his
stubbornness, they killed him most cruelly, and threw out his body to
be eaten by wild beasts. The corpse of the young prince was found in a
forest, under the guidance of a woman who said that she had witnessed
his tortures, and Vassilko was buried with Yuri, his uncle. The
headless Yuri, as found on the field of battle, was put in a coffin,
but afterward the head was discovered and placed with the body, and the
two bodies were taken later on to Rostoff for interment.
After the destruction of Vladimir, Rostoff and Suzdal, the whole
principality of Vladimir was ravaged. The lands now included in the
governments of Vladimir, Yaroslavl, Kostroma, Tver and Moscow, with a
part of Novgorod and Vologda, were scenes of ruin and terror.
Everywhere the same marks of Mongols. Such noted places as Tver,
Torjok, Volokolamsk, Yaroslavl and Mologa were sacked and burned to the
ground, as well as villages and settlements beyond reckoning. The
Russians looked on this invasion as a testimony of God’s anger, such an
evil as a flood or an earthquake, irresistible and almighty. In small
villages, when the Mongols appeared, the people grew helpless from
terror; those who could escape rushed away to the forests, secreting
their property in the ground; what remained was left to fire and sword.
Such boundless woe had never been witnessed in Russia. The surviving
clergy throughout the country called on all to prepare for the last
hour.
The Mongols cut people down as a mower cuts grass. When they entered a
province, they sent out detachments on every side; like locusts, they
destroyed everything utterly. Monasteries and villages they stripped
clean of all things that had value. From stores of grain they took what
they needed, and burned the remainder, boasting that grass would not
grow on their path.
A great thaw saved Northwestern Russia. In the first days of March, the
Mongols, when within a hundred versts of Novgorod, became alarmed by
the swelling of rivers and turned back. Conducting their countless
treasures and urging on long lines of prisoners, they moved swiftly
southeastward to grass-growing regions. On the way they came to
Koselsk, where they met a most stubborn resistance. A detachment
attacked the town for forty-two days, but succeeded in storming the
place only after reinforcements had been sent by Batu, who was enraged
at this resistance. It was destroyed utterly, but its fame will never
die in Russian history.
Before the wooden walls of this city, the Mongols lost four thousand
men and three princes. When at last they burst into the town, they were
met by old and young, men and women, who rushed at them with knives,
axes and other weapons, and fought with desperation from house to
house, from street to street. Gradually forced back, they retired into
the Kremlin, or fortress, and fought till the last man perished.
Vassili, the little prince, who was very young, was drowned, it is
said, in the blood of the people.
The Mongols called this town “Mo balig” (town of woe), the same name
which they gave Bamian of the Kwarezmian Empire, the place at which
Moatagan, one of Jinghis Khan’s grandsons, fell pierced by an arrow,
and where the young man’s mother, a daughter of Jinghis, rushed in at
the head of ten thousand warriors and left nothing alive, not a man,
woman or child, destroying even the dogs and cats, slaying everything
in her vengeance.
After Batu had established himself in the steppes of the Volga, he
began to build Sarai, the capital of his Horde. He cleared the whole
country and drove out the Polovtsi. Kotyan, the Polovtsi Khan, took a
remnant of his people, forty thousand in number, and settled in
Hungary. The king gave him land on condition that he and his tribes
became Catholic. The rest of the Polovtsi joined with the Mongols, and
from that day they ceased forever as a people in Russia.
Pereyaslavl on the Alta and Chernigoff were doomed now, and all who
could leave those two places hurried elsewhere for refuge.
When winter had again frozen the rivers and put snow on the steppe
lands, the Mongols set out afresh to capture cities and slaughter new
thousands of people. Batu sent a number of his leaders of ten thousand
to the north again to search out and finish all places bordering on
Vladimir. This work they did thoroughly in December, 1238, and January,
1239. Batu, meanwhile, took Pereyaslavl; destroyed the church of Saint
Michael; slew the bishop; killed all who were useless as captives; took
whatever belonged to the people and the churches; and moved on
Chernigoff. The walls of that city were broken in by hurling stones,
each of such weight that five men were needed to lift it. The city was
stormed then and burned, the people slain, and every building
plundered. One of the younger princes fell with the warriors. The
chronicler states that the older princes had fled to Hungary. It is
true that Michael’s heir, Rostislav, who had been left by his father in
Galitch, and driven thence by Daniel soon after, had gone to marry King
Bela’s daughter. Michael, himself, who at this time had taken
Yaroslav’s place, in Kief, soon found it impossible to stay there.
When Chernigoff was ruined, Batu commanded his brother to advance upon
Kief and make a reconnaissance. From the Chernigoff bank of the Dnieper
he saw the mother of cities and wondered at its beauty. Envoys were
sent to demand its surrender. The Kief people slew them, and Michael
fled from the capital. He went, as he thought, to a safe place, to
Hungary, to be present at his son’s wedding. But, learning of the ruin
of Chernigoff by the Mongols, Bela would not give his daughter to
Rostislav. Michael and his son went then to the Mazovian prince,
Konrad.
Bolder than Michael, Rostislav, a Smolensk prince, occupied Kief, now
abandoned by others. But Daniel of Galitch would not let Rostislav stay
there, and seized for himself the old capital. He did not wait in Kief
for Batu; he sent Dmitri, his boyar, to defend the city. Daniel left
even Volynia and Galitch, and went to Hungary. From there he went to
Poland, for Bela himself was struck with such terror that he fled from
the Mongols, and knew not where to find refuge.
In 1239 the whole Russian land, if not yet under Mongols, looked on
that doom as inevitable. There was such panic terror that men lost
proper use of their faculties. All that interval from December, 1237,
when Ryazan was destroyed, till December, 1240, was a time of
destruction and captivity, and the end came only when there was nothing
to destroy, and all the treasures of Russia were in Mongol hands.
For the people these three years were merged in one unit of time,
filled with anguish, terror and despair. It might be said that they had
lost the sense and the power to count seasons. That Russian land, which
in the days of Yaroslav the Lawgiver and Monomach his grandson had so
easily overcome its enemies, and which in the days of Big Nest,
Monomach’s nephew, in spite of all its divisions and conflicts, still
preserved some appearance of oneness, existed no longer.
On the San and the Dniester there was the same terror of Mongols as on
the Desna and the Dnieper. From the north, from Vladimir, from
Novgorod, no regiments appeared, and none were expected; no prince came
with help, and no man was looking for him. The whole land was as silent
as a grave or a desert. The Mongols had not captured Novgorod, but this
was because they considered it as subject to Vladimir. They had been
sated with bloodshed, and looked on the Vladimir region as thoroughly
subjected. To avoid further evil, Novgorod had to connect itself
absolutely with Vladimir, and with it carry the weight of the burden.
Besides, the distant north was a country without attraction for
Mongols. Beyond Novgorod lived the Chud people (Fins), whose lands
extended to the shores of the Frozen Ocean. The Mongols did not
consider that Novgorod could be the center of a region dangerous to
their dominion, hence they left the old capital of Rurik uninjured. If
they had had reason to punish Novgorod they would have razed it as they
razed Ryazan and Vladimir.
The Kief campaign was undertaken by Batu on a scale that was enormous;
with him went his brothers and relatives: Kuyuk, son of the Grand Khan,
was there, and Mangu and Baidar, grandsons of Jinghis Khan, also a
multitude of famous commanders,—Burundai, Subotai and others. The whole
army consisted of more than five hundred thousand men.
After finishing with Russia, Batu intended to pass into Hungary and
destroy that country. He had sent a demand for obedience already, and a
reprimand to the king for receiving Kotyan with his Polovtsi, whom Batu
looked on as slaves who had fled from their master.
As soon as the Dnieper was frozen, the army passed over. The Mongol
warriors were so numerous, the squeaking of their wagons so piercing,
the neighing of their horses and the roaring of camels so deafening,
that men in the city could not hear, as was declared, what they said to
one another. First the attackers surrounded Kief; next they built a
wooden wall; then they erected their engines and hurled immense stones
at the city walls day and night without ceasing. The mother city was
defended bravely by its citizens, but available warriors were few; for
so short-sighted had the princes been that even when the enemy was on
the march they had continued to struggle for succession. When the
Mongols had made sufficient breaches in the walls, they rushed through
and began a hand-to-hand struggle. The Kief men fought desperately.
From morning till evening the battle raged, but toward night
overwhelming numbers conquered, and the Mongols held the walls of the
city. That night the Kief men made a new wall in front of the first
one, even women and children assisting in building defenses, and next
day the battle continued. From every house, church and monastery people
came out, and fought to the death in all parts of the city. In the
churches, multitudes had gathered, and from the weight of the people
and their effects on roofs and in the galleries the walls fell. Many
perished in hand-to-hand conflict; others were suffocated with smoke;
but none surrendered, for all knew that but one fate awaited them.
For several days in succession the slaying of people and the
destruction of buildings continued. The Vladimir Church fell; the
Sophia Cathedral, built by Yaroslav the Lawgiver, endured best of any;
the body of that church remained sound, and there is one uninjured part
of the wall, on which is an image of the Virgin, preserved to the
present. Of the Catacomb Monastery, the ancient church and walls were
destroyed; of the Golden Gate, built by Yaroslav, only ruins remained.
The more violently the people defended the remnant of their city, and
fought out their last hour, the more joyously did the destroyers carry
on the destruction. They slew old men and children to the last one. If
in other cities they had taken pleasure in general slaughter and
devastation, they took tenfold more pleasure now. The strong places and
the sanctuaries of a city were never overthrown with such fury, and
never were the Mongols so relentless as in Kief, the city of churches.
The destroyers did not spare even tombs; they forced them open, and
with their heels crushed the skulls and broke the bones of the ancient
princes. The havoc was so great that during the entire fourteenth
century which followed, and in the fifteenth century, a large part of
the city remained a desert covered with refuse. The remnants of stone
buildings which had stood for centuries sank into the ground, dust
drifted in over them, and then was concealed all those ruins. Of that
Kief which, in the days both of Yaroslav the Lawgiver and Monomach, was
compared by travelers with Tsargrad, there remained only the memory. It
fell December, 1240, and was never renewed in its former magnificence,
even to our day.
The defender of Kief, Daniel’s boyar, Dmitri, was brought half alive
before Batu, who repeated these words of praise: “The Russians know
well how to drink the cup of death.” He gave him his life, and took the
hero with him in his campaign against Volynia and Galitch. The boyar,
continuing to serve his prince, strove to lead the Khan from ruining
Galitch. He advised him to go quickly and take vengeance on the King of
Hungary for harboring Kotyan and his Polovtsi, saying: “It is time to
go against the Hungarians; unless thou go now they will gather great
forces and exclude thee forever. Their land is a strong one.” Thus
spoke Dmitri to Batu, while, in mind, he was weeping over Galitch.
Batu was the more willing to hurry forward to Hungary, since he had
learned that Michael of Chernigoff and Daniel of Galitch had gone to
that kingdom. This, however, did not change his plan, though it may
have hastened its execution, for the campaign against Galitch and
Volynia was notable for swiftness. Batu on his way took through
falsehood Ladyjin, a town which fought stubbornly and refused to yield.
He promised the people in case they surrendered to spare them and their
town. At last they respected his word and surrendered. He slew every
man to the last one. Kamenyets he passed, because its position seemed
impregnable. Vladimir, the capital of Volynia, he took by assault and
spared not one person. Galitch he treated in the same way.
Moving from Vladimir of Volynia along the Būg, the Mongols advanced
only as far as Brest. There, near the edge of Lithuania, Batu halted.
The great swampy forests troubled him and his warriors, and he resolved
to turn back. As one more example of cruelty after so many, they
destroyed Brest and slew all the people. Then they moved southward.
One division of Batu’s army entered Poland in 1240, ravaged the
province of Lublin, and returned with great booty to Galitch. The
Mongols reappeared in that country, however, in winter, crossing the
Vistula on the ice, but after advancing to within a few miles of
Cracow, they turned again toward Galitch, loaded with much spoil and
driving before them a multitude of captives, among whom were some of
the first people of Poland. They were pursued by Volodmir, the
governor, who surprised them near Palanietz, and killed many.
Discovering how small the attacking party was, the Mongols turned, made
a furious charge, and put them to flight; then they continued their
march. Soon, however, they reëntered Poland with new forces. The
nobility of Sandomir and Cracow assembled their warriors and advanced
to meet the oncoming Mongols, but in the conflict which followed, they
were defeated with great loss.
Boleslav IV at this time occupied the throne of Cracow. Fearing to
remain in the citadel, he took refuge with his family in a castle at
the foot of the Carpathians, and later on in a monastery in Moravia.
Many of the aristocracy of Poland followed his example, escaping to
Hungary or Germany; the common people sought refuge in the forests,
swamps and mountains. The conquerors entered Cracow, March 24, 1241,
and set fire to the city, which they found deserted; then they marched
toward Breslau, the capital of Silesia, devastating the region through
which they passed.
On reaching Breslau, they discovered that it had been reduced to ashes
by the inhabitants, who had taken refuge in the citadel with the
garrison. The Mongols, after investing the fortress for several days,
raised the siege and joined another corps of their army to march with
it against the forces assembled near Lignitz, where Henry, Duke of
Silesia, was commander of about twenty thousand men. The Mongols were
led by a prince (in Polish chronicles called Péta) whose army far
outnumbered that of Duke Henry. The defeat of the Poles was complete.
Henry fled from the field with but four of his officers; retarded by
the fall of his horse, which was wounded, he mounted a second, but was
surrounded, captured, and his head cut off. The Polish loss was heavy.
It is told that to discover the number of the enemy killed, the Mongols
cut an ear from each corpse, and with those ears filled four large
sacks.
They now moved forward, carrying fire and blood even to the frontiers
of Bohemia and Austria. While one part of Péta’s army besieged Olmütz
in Moravia, several corps of it plundered and devastated the
surrounding region. Sternberg, commander of Olmütz, made a successful
sortie from the citadel, killed some three hundred of the enemy, and
returned in safety. A few days later the Mongols raised camp and
marched toward Hungary to join the great army under Batu. It was
evident that they had besieged Olmütz only for the purpose of pillaging
the country round it.
Before marching into Hungary, Batu had written to King Bela, demanding
that he yield obedience to the Mongol sovereign if he wished to save
his own life, or the lives of his subjects. Bela paid no heed to this
demand, and the only measure of defense he took was to send small
detachments to hold the passes of the Carpathians.
There was much dissatisfaction with King Bela, for he had no military
ability; another cause for the dissatisfaction was that he had received
Kotyan, the Polovtsi Khan, and allowed him to settle, with some forty
thousand families, in Hungary. The acquisition of this number of
subjects increased the power of the king, and the hope of converting
the pagans to Christianity gave him pleasure. But these Polovtsi were
so displeasing to the people that in 1240 Bela had to convoke an
assembly of the clergy, and the nobility of his kingdom as well as the
chiefs of the Polovtsi. It was then resolved that the Polovtsi should
be dispersed in different provinces, and should be assigned
uncultivated districts where they could pasture their flocks and herds.
Kotyan was baptized, so also were his chief officers. Still the hatred
of the people continued.
Batu penetrated into Hungary by the pass called “Gate of Russia,” and
was joined by divisions of his army which had been devastating Poland.
Thence he marched toward Pest, and, camping half a day’s journey from
that city, he ravaged the country. The people, thinking that Kotyan,
the Polovtsi Khan, was secretly communicating with Batu, murmured
against the king and demanded the death of Kotyan and his men. They
attacked Kotyan, who defended himself for a time, but was at last
overpowered and killed. This murder only served to increase the woes of
Hungary. The report of it spread to the country, and the peasants fell
on the Polovtsi and massacred them without mercy. But those who escaped
united and later on avenged their people.
When the Hungarian army had assembled the king marched out of Pest to
meet the Mongols. The result of the conflict was most disastrous for
the Hungarians. The king owed his escape to the swiftness of his horse.
He took refuge near the Carpathians, where he encountered his
son-in-law, who was also seeking an asylum in that country.
While these events were passing in the heart of Hungary, Kadan advanced
through Transylvania, seizing property, profaning churches, and leading
away captives.
The Mongols remained inactive during the summer of 1241, but in
December of that year a detachment crossed the Danube and pitched their
camp near the city of Strigonia, or Gran. The besieged destroyed all
that was most valuable, killed their horses, and retired into the stone
edifices to defend themselves. The Mongols, furious at loss of plunder,
were careful that no person should escape. They seized and burned the
principal inhabitants over slow fires, to make them declare where they
had hidden their riches.
At this moment news came to Batu of the death of Ogotai, the Grand
Khan, and with the news an order to return to Mongolia at once.
The barbarians had penetrated even into Austria, and a corps advanced
to Neustadt near Vienna, but retired on learning of the approach of a
large army. After the destruction of Strigonia, Kadan was sent with a
detachment against King Bela. Bela, who had taken refuge in Austria,
retired with his family to Agram in Croatia, where he remained during
the summer. Learning that Kadan was marching toward Agram, he went to
Spalato on the Dalmatian coast, and then to Trau. Kadan marched with
marvelous rapidity. Halting for a few days at Sirbium River, he
assembled the Hungarian prisoners whom he had seized on the march, and
had them all put to death. On arriving at Spalato and learning that the
king was not there, he advanced at once to the neighborhood of Trau,
and camped upon the bank facing the island in the Adriatic where Bela
had taken refuge. There the Mongols remained through the month of
March, and then, after pillaging Cattaro, Suagio and Drivasto, and
killing every man, woman and child who fell into their hands, they
returned by way of Herzegovinia and Serbia to join Batu. While on the
march Kadan received orders to hasten, as all Mongol princes had been
summoned to Mongolia.
Daniel and Vassilko, on hearing that Batu had left Hungary, delayed for
a time in returning to Russia. They knew not where their families were,
or indeed if they were living, and their delight was unbounded on
finding them. On the way home from Poland they could not draw near
Brest, because of the terrible odor of corpses. Very little remained of
the former Vladimir, and the ruined churches were filled with dead
bodies.
Batu, who had brought terror on all Europe by the destruction wrought
in Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, Moldavia and certain portions of
Poland, was not pleased with those lands. The West was too narrow for a
nomad people, and Russia became the real province for Mongols. Hungary
and Poland suffered little in comparison. Batu pitched his tents and
built Sarai, as has been stated, on the bank of the Lower Volga, from
where it was convenient and easy to send troops in every direction, and
keep conquered Russia in obedience. The Golden Horde, as thenceforth
men called the Khan’s residence in Russia, was noted for wealth even in
Batu’s day.
Jinghis Khan, who died in 1227, was succeeded by his eldest son Ogotai,
who reigned from 1229 to 1241. During that reign, Batu completed his
conquest of Russia.
Russia, subject now to the Mongol, learned that a new sovereign had
appeared in Mongolia, but Batu, the grandson of Jinghis Khan, remained
their ruler. To him was given entire control of the “Kipchak Horde,”
his possessions extending from a line somewhat east of the Ural
Mountains to the Danube. He now counted all the Russian land as his
property, and declared to its princes that they might not live on the
Khan’s land unless they bowed down to him.
Thus began the heavy yoke of the Mongols, which was to last for more
than two hundred years.
Mongol law touching subjects was brief, being this, in substance,—that
not only their families and property, but their lives were entirely at
the Khan’s disposition. This law, universal, fundamental, unchangeable,
was applied to all conquered regions. It was inevitable to give each
year one tenth of the harvest and one tenth of every kind of increase.
Every man was liable to military service with the Mongols against
whomsoever they might send him. Bashaks were appointed in every large
town to see to the accurate fulfilment of these duties, and to keep in
obedience both people and princes. At first princes left in power by
the Khan were bound to appear at the Horde with yearly tribute; besides
they were summoned whenever the need came. They must appear with
bending knees, and bowing, and striking the earth with their foreheads.
They were forced to give special gifts to the Khan, to his wives and
his courtiers.
When coming before the Khan, various ceremonies had to be observed. For
instance, when entering his tent, each man had to cross the threshold
without touching it; if he touched it death was the penalty. But before
being admitted to the eyes of the ruler, princes were obliged to go
through many trials by wizards. They were forced to bow to fire, to
bushes, to the shades of dead Khans; to pass between two fires while
the wizards and witches who lighted those fires pronounced
incantations.
As this bowing to bushes and fire and the shades of dead rulers took
place before pictures on felt and on silk, it seemed like bowing to
idols. They had also to praise Mongol customs, to drink liquor made of
mare’s milk, and eat of Mongol dishes. The least show of repugnance or
indifference involved peril. But, since effect was felt keenly by
Mongols, kindness and terror alternated. They knew at the Horde who the
men were from whom they must withhold honor, and to whom honor ought to
be given. Rulers of regions under Mongol dominion, but remote from
Sarai and bordering on lands which were free, were received more
politely than those who were nearer. The following has been stated by a
man who observed the position in Batu’s day: “The Mongols take less
tribute from those whose lands are remote from them, and border on
others which are free, and from those whom they fear for some reason.
They treat those remote subjects more kindly, so that they may not
attack, or that others may obey with more willingness.” The cruel and
savage Batu was sometimes fond of charming those princes who bowed down
before him, and of showing magnanimity in treatment, and at such times
he seemed the most kindly host possible.
Though all Russia was under the Mongol, the yoke weighed with greatest
burden on the lands in the center; that place which was the real heart
of Russia, and had formed the principality of Vladimir. It was
unspeakably more difficult for Yaroslav to manage than for princes in
Volynia and Galitch. After Kief had been swept from the earth, so to
speak, or crushed into it, and Batu had shown no wish to take Hungary
or Poland, Galitch and Volynia, as being nearest those countries, were
in the easiest position of all the principalities in Russia.
Batu, in his first campaign, did not touch Smolensk in its western
portions, and in the second he did not go beyond Brest in a northern
direction. In the princes of Volynia and Galitch he had his last
representatives. On the west was the country which for their own
reasons the Russians represented to Batu as little dependent on their
rule, in fact a foreign region, and purposely they called it not Rus,
but Litvá. Thus of all Russian princes, the position of Daniel was most
favored with reference to the Mongols. As to his rival in Chernigoff,
Prince Michael, his possessions might have been called non-existent.
Chernigoff and Kursk were in the worst position possible, because
nearest the Mongols. Hence after the conquest, Daniel and Michael were,
each in his own way, distinguished beyond other princes in Russia.
Daniel knew not from childhood what rest was, and only in years of ripe
manhood, after endless toil and great effort, did he secure Volynia and
Galitch on the very eve of the Mongol tempest, to appear next in a
fateful position from which he found no issue whatever. His
principalities, which comprised the borderland of Southwestern Russia
in the days of Kief supremacy, were attracted to the ancient capital
from the earliest, but as the Russia of Kief times existed no longer,
and as Northern Russia had been turned into a Mongol possession, the
ruler of Volynia and Galitch had to do one of two things: either
compact his lands into a new and special body and stand apart from the
rest of Russia,—alone he could not stand, for he would be obliged to
associate himself willingly or unwillingly with his western neighbors,
the Poles and Hungarians, and, as they were in close connection with
the Holy Roman-German Empire, he might not stand apart even from union
with that power (he might be forced to join Rome, the Latin
communion),—or he had the other issue: to recognize and strengthen the
ancient bond of Volynia and Galitch with the remainder of Russia, with
that Russia which had begun in Rurik’s day in Novgorod, and which was
baptized in the Dnieper under Vladimir. But in this case, he would have
to suffer Mongol captivity with it, and sacrifice his own land for the
benefit of the common, much suffering country. He would have to cling
to the princes of the house of Vladimir, who had been turned into
slaves, and bear with them the same bitter burden which they were
bearing. His Orthodox feeling forbade him to join Rome and the West.
But to join the other Russian princes and the rest of the Russian
people in their subjection to the Mongols was also beyond his
endurance; his pride could not brook that, so he languished all the
rest of his life in a position without escape and without moral refuge.
Hungary and Poland, crushed by the Mongol invasion, were saved only
because those countries were too narrow for the nomad Mongols, who
wanted the freedom of movement and the space which existed in Russia.
But the Hungarians and Poles, proud of their safety, though defeated
and led away captive in every encounter with Mongols, explained the
affair in another way: the West was no longer afraid of a Mongol
invasion. Rome, which had tried in the time of Daniel’s father to bring
“the kingdom” of Galitch to the Latin religion, did not cease now to
point out to Daniel, with pride, the freedom of the West from Mongol
subjection, and to promise that if he would obey the True Mother he
would have a right to the same freedom. The Pope explained to Daniel
that the only means of saving his country from that slavery which had
been put on it because of its schism, was “to return” to the bosom of
the Mother. He promised in that case the assistance of Poles and
Hungarians and the whole Roman Empire, and offered at the same time a
crown and a kingly title. Daniel refused the title and the crown, but
asked very earnestly for the military assistance. He asked that
Germany, Hungary, Bohemia, Poland, and all who obeyed the Holy See,
should be roused to a general attack on the pagan Mongols. Rome
summoned all nations against the Mongols, and to Daniel came assurance
that aid from the West would not be slow in arriving.
Of Russian princes Daniel alone reigned a number of years without a
summons from Batu to visit the Golden Horde. He had paid no tribute and
had not been to the Khan with obeisance. But the promised aid from the
West came not, and in 1250 envoys arrived from Batu, who repeated the
message sent to other Russian princes: “It is unbecoming to live on the
Khan’s land, and not bow down to him.” To this was added: “Give
Galitch.”
Daniel might give Galitch, withdraw to the depth of Volynia, and be
satisfied with half his inheritance; besides the country beyond Brest
was unconquered. But after praying earnestly, and counseling with his
brother, Daniel said: “I will go to Batu.”
When Daniel reached Kief, he saw dreadful misery. He prayed to the
Archangel Michael; he implored the monks to pray for him, and then
sailed down the river to Pereyaslavl. Hence he went directly along by
Mongol stations toward the Golden Horde, and he grieved greatly when he
witnessed the pagan ceremonies in the Russian land. In places Orthodox
for centuries, men worshiped fire, bowed down to the sun, moon, earth,
and dead ancestors. Beyond the Volga and near Sarai, he was troubled
still more when he heard how at the Horde they would force him to pagan
observances. By that time most other Russian princes had been at the
Horde, and the Mongols declared that not one of them had violated the
ceremonies established for receptions. One of the officials said to
Daniel: “How great is Prince Yaroslav of Vladimir, but no exception was
made for him. He bowed to the bushes, and thou wilt bow.” Daniel spat,
and said: “The devil speaks through thy lips. God close them to guard
me from hearing such utterances.”
But Batu, in addition to saving Daniel from all that might seem like
the worship of idols, greeted him pleasantly, and with unusual
kindness. When the prince, led into the Khan’s tent, bowed in a way
that seemed to humiliate him, Batu said: “Daniel, thou wert long in
coming, but thou art here and thou hast done well to come. Thou art
ours now. Take our drink.” And they brought him a goblet. The prince
emptied it and bowed, repeating the commonplace words which all princes
uttered on similar occasions: “God gave thee power. I obey thee through
God’s will.” He bowed again, and begged to salute the Khan’s consort.
“Go,” said Batu, and he added when Daniel was about to leave, “Thou art
not accustomed to milk; drink wine.” And when he was taking farewell of
the Khan’s wife, they brought a goblet of wine to him from Batu. They
detained Daniel at the Horde a shorter time than was usual for princes.
After confirming all his rights in Volynia and Galitch, they dismissed
him with courtesy.
Great was the delight of Daniel’s family when he returned to them
unharmed. His success was mentioned on all sides. That summer the King
of Hungary sent this message: “Take my daughter for thy son Lev.” The
king feared Daniel because he had visited the Horde, and besides, on
the San, he had beaten the king’s son-in-law and expelled him from
Galitch. When the wedding took place Daniel restored all captive
Hungarians. Thus he and the king became friendly. Roman, another son of
Daniel, married Gertrude, a daughter of the late Duke of Styria. Roman
now claimed Styria as the dowry of Gertrude. The King of Bohemia, whose
queen was a daughter of the same duke, also claimed this inheritance.
Daniel, with Boleslav of Poland, Bela’s son-in-law, campaigned against
the Bohemian king. He did this to make friends in the West, and thus
get rid of the Mongols. He tried to induce his western neighbors to
join him, and for this purpose he entered their circle of action. But
from beginning to end, every promise of aid proved futile,—empty sound,
nothing more. The Pope saw very well how fruitless were his efforts.
Not only in Germany, but in Hungary and Poland his messages were
unheeded. At last Daniel left papal promises unanswered. Then a legate
was sent to deliver the crown to him and anoint him king in Western
fashion. It was not the first time that they had come to Daniel for
this purpose, but he had set them aside with various excuses. For
example, he had said earlier to the legate that it was no time for
coronation when his lands were in danger,—not a crown did he need, but
strong warriors. But now the papal envoy found Daniel at the place and
time most convenient for his object, namely, at Cracow, on the way from
Bohemia to Galitch, surrounded by his allies after a victory and the
capture of a city.
He refused this time also, saying: “I am in a foreign land.” But the
papal legate, Polish princes, and magnates urged Daniel to take the
gift offered. His mother, a Polish princess, insisted also and helped
to influence him. “The Pope respects the Greek Church,” said the
legate, “and curses all men who offend it. He is about to call a
council to unite the two Churches. Aid will come from the Pope very
quickly.” The Polish princes promised with every solemnity, and their
magnates promised with them, that after Daniel had taken the crown they
would march against the Mongols.
In 1253, Daniel was crowned in Drogitchin. His subjection to Rome was
complete, as it seemed to Polish princes. But, breaking all solemn
promises, neither Poles nor Hungarians made a move to march against the
Mongols.
The following year Batu, who had been watching, and understood
perfectly Daniel’s problem, sent an envoy renowned for his keenness,
with a command to raze and destroy every fortress in Volynia and
Galitch. Never had he commanded the Galitch prince so decisively, as if
to show the world that he knew the situation and was master of it.
Daniel, understanding well that no opposition could serve him, withdrew
to Volynia, and sent Vassilko, his brother, and Lev, his own son, to
meet Burundai, the keen envoy. “Raze your fortresses!” said Burundai.
And all were destroyed at his order. The walls of Vladimir in Volynia,
though of wood, were so strong and immense that there was no chance to
tear them down before the coming of the envoy, hence they were burned
by Vassilko immediately. Such promptness was praised by Burundai, who
even dined with Vassilko on that day. But when this envoy departed,
another one came, who said: “Burundai has commanded me to level your
entrenchments.” “Accomplish the command,” said Vassilko. Baimur and his
men filled every trench, and leveled all the earthworks surrounding the
walls of Levoff, a city which Lev himself had founded, and which was
called after him. Burundai now ordered both princes to make a campaign
with him. Adding to his own men warriors from Volynia and Galitch, he
attacked Lithuania; then he took Vassilko against Poland and visited
the districts of Sandomir and Lublin.
With such a turn of affairs, Daniel had cut off all relations with
Rome; he was therefore not a little astonished on receiving a new
reprimand from the Pope for his lack of obedience to the Holy See. To
this he made no answer.
Not loving Galitch, the capital with which were connected so many
memories of boundless deceit and disturbance, Daniel founded Holm, a
new capital, and built a number of Orthodox churches. Thenceforth he
passed his life in sorrow, for his position was one without issue. He
was in a charmed circle without power to solve the riddle of his
condition; he could look at it with terror, but he could not escape
from it. In Holm he died in 1266, and was buried in the church of the
Holy Virgin which he had founded. The honor Daniel received from Batu
wounded his spirit so that his words touching this were recorded: “Oh,
worse than woe is honor coming from Mongols.” A similar blow had he
received at Drogitchin, through that gift of a crown bestowed with
deceit and in spite of him.