IVAN KALITÁ
In 1319, Yuri returned from the Horde with the Khan’s patent making him
Grand Prince. According to old Russian rules, he was equal to the sons
of Prince Michael. If they were superior through inheritance from a
father who had held the position of Grand Prince, a position which
Yuri’s father had never held, he surpassed them through his grandfather
Nevski, who was senior to their grandfather, Yaroslav. In descent, men
might hold them equal. But Yuri surpassed the Tver prince in wealth,
and in the number of his warriors, and with the patent of the Khan he
became chief, and all yielded.
Yuri hastened to Vladimir and took the throne, merely making a short
halt at Moscow, to leave there Michael’s son Constantine, with his
father’s boyars and servants. Yuri had taken Constantine from the
Horde, partly as a relative, partly as a prisoner; the boyars were
really prisoners. No one in Tver knew exactly what had taken place; all
were in doubt and anxiety, and when Yuri’s return was reported, men
were sent to Vladimir to discover the truth. They brought tidings to
Tver that Prince Michael was dead and his body had been taken to Moscow
and buried.
As soon as Yuri appeared in Vladimir, Dmitri, Michael’s eldest son,
took possession of Tver in accordance with the will of his father. Then
he sent his younger brother, Alexander, to Yuri, to ask for the body of
his father. Yuri refused at first to deliver it, but he at last
consented, and the body was taken back to Tver.
Boris, Yuri’s brother, died in Moscow soon after this, as did also
Afanasi, whom Yuri had settled in Novgorod, so that of Daniel’s sons
only Yuri and Ivan were living. When Yuri returned from the Horde as
Grand Prince, he gave his inherited lands, as it seems, to Ivan. In
1320, Ivan went to do homage to Uzbek; till that time he had never seen
him. In that year Tver had three marriages of princes: Alexander and
Constantine found brides among Russians, but Dmitri took a daughter of
Gedimin, the Lithuanian Grand Prince. This connection with Gedimin
brought Dmitri into intimate relations with an enemy of Russia, and
made it more difficult still for Tver to be friendly with Vladimir.
Dmitri did not wish to see Yuri, or approach him, or even hear his name
mentioned. Outspoken and direct, irrepressible and passionate the name
Terrible Eyes had been given Dmitri, and it described him clearly.
Yuri’s first move as Grand Prince was a quarrel with Ryazan, undertaken
to punish one of its princes. That labor finished, he moved on Dmitri.
The task was “to take his honor,” as the phrase ran in those days.
Expeditions were made then, as they had been made earlier, to impose
peace “with dread and trembling.” Minor princes performed certain acts
at the coronation of a Grand Prince. If not to show submission, at
least to recognize that he was their superior. The Grand Prince made a
treaty with each minor prince, causing him at the same time to kiss the
cross to observe it. When the Khan gave a patent to an important
prince, minor princes led his horse in the ceremony of installation.
Yuri, of course, was not seeking a service of this kind, but as Dmitri
had not ranged himself with princes who acknowledged his headship, Yuri
now led his warriors to attack Tver. When Dmitri heard of this campaign
against him, he made no move, but begged his friend Varsonofi, the
bishop, to save him from every discussion with Yuri. He agreed to all
terms in advance, so as to avoid meeting him. The bishop persuaded the
Grand Prince to withdraw from the country, after receiving a solemn
declaration from Dmitri that he would not strive to be Grand Prince.
The chief mark of subjection in a minor prince at that time was to pay
the Khan’s tribute, not at the Horde, but to the Grand Prince. Yuri
insisted on this, and if negotiations with the bishop were protracted,
it was only because of discussions on that subject; but Dmitri in the
end agreed to that also, and promised to send to Yuri two thousand
grievens, which he had collected from Tver as a tribute. Dmitri sent
this money to Yuri that year (1321). The following year he went to the
Horde for confirmation as senior heir to the Tver principality. He took
gifts to the Khan and rendered homage as usual; then, unable to
restrain himself, he told the Khan all that was troubling his spirit.
Disregarding the ceremony which was binding on every one, he explained
to Uzbek how Kavgady and Yuri had calumniated his father, condemned
him, and killed him in his innocence. The Terrible-Eyed Dmitri
explained everything with respect and submission. Moreover, his coming
to the Horde was a mark of his faithfulness. He might refer to this,
and, of course, he was not silent; he said that he submitted to the
will of the Khan; that he acknowledged the primacy of Yuri, the proof
of which was that he had given him the tribute of Tver, those two
thousand grievens which Yuri had not paid at the Horde, as was shown
when officials sought for an account of them.
Yuri perhaps had no thought of withholding this tribute; circumstances
may have prevented his going immediately to the Horde with it, for soon
after he received the money he was forced to hasten to Novgorod, and
farther, since at that time he was fighting fiercely against the Swedes
and the Germans of Riga, and he had not yet returned from that distant
campaigning. Still, as was thought at the Horde, it was not the right
way to act, and command was given straightway to summon Yuri. To Dmitri
Uzbek was more gracious than he had ever been to any prince. Surprised
by his daring speech, the Khan gave him honor. Mongol magnates, in view
of this, were full of respect for him, and his success was immediate.
Yuri was summoned once more to the Horde. Dmitri received his patent,
not as Prince of Tver, but as Grand Prince, and the Khan sent his
envoy, Svinche Buga, and a Mongol detachment of warriors to install the
new favorite. Such double rule under Mongol direction was not a new
thing.
From the winter of 1322 to that of 1324, no man among the Russians knew
positively whether Yuri or Dmitri was Grand Prince. Both ruled in the
Khan’s name, and each held his patent. Yuri, meanwhile, was defending
Novgorod against Swedes, and meeting also Tver regiments led against
him by Alexander, a brother of the Terrible-Eyed Dmitri. Yuri defeated
the Swedes at that point where the Neva flows out of Lake Ladoga, and
made a “permanent peace” with them. When he had finished with the
Swedes, he prepared to assuage the Khan’s anger. Some time before he
had begged his brother, Ivan, to defend him at the Horde. No man was
better fitted to do this than Ivan, and he succeeded. It is true that
when he came home to Moscow the Khan’s envoy came also to confirm the
summons to Yuri, but in every case Yuri’s safety at the Horde seemed
more than likely.
Though satisfied by the news which Ivan brought, Yuri still hesitated
over the risks of the journey. He made repeated inquiries of friends at
the Horde as to what might await him, and learned that he could go with
good chances of security. He did not go empty-handed, moreover, knowing
well that success at Sarai was connected at all times with an abundance
of silver and gold. He went at the same time with envoys from Novgorod.
Dmitri had beset all the roads to the Volga; he was determined to
prevent Yuri’s visit to the Horde. Hence the Grand Prince was forced to
go by Vyatka to Perm, thence down the Kama to the Volga, and thus he
reached Sarai finally.
In 1325, when most men knew not what had happened to Yuri, news came
that he was in good health at the court of his brother-in-law. Dmitri,
astonished that his enemy had escaped unpunished, set out for the Horde
to work against him. All were now waiting in Russia to see which of the
two men would come back as Grand Prince; neither came. First Yuri’s
corpse was brought to Moscow November 21, 1325, and it was learned that
Dmitri and Yuri, having been summoned to Uzbek’s presence, had met in
his palace. Dmitri could not restrain himself. He drew his sword
instantly, and Yuri fell, slain by the avenging hand of Michael’s son.
“A deed like this done near the eyes of the Khan, and almost in his
presence, is not to be pardoned!” cried the Mongols. Uzbek ordered all
to be silent. When news of this order came to Russia, men thought that
Yuri’s death had been pleasing to Uzbek. But when they learned later
that it had happened without the Khan’s desire or knowledge, Dmitri’s
friends were greatly troubled.
During more than nine months the Khan’s will in this case was not
uttered, and some had good hopes for Dmitri, but on September 15, 1326,
Dmitri was executed, and the body of the Tver prince was taken to his
native city, where they placed it at the side of Prince Michael, his
father.
Though Uzbek had ordered the execution of Dmitri, Alexander, Dmitri’s
brother, was made Grand Prince. But Alexander’s power was not lasting.
Before twelve months had passed it had ended.
In 1327, Uzbek sent Cholkhan, his cousin, to Tver. With him came
warriors, princes and merchants. Cholkhan occupied Alexander’s palace,
and his warriors were quartered on the people. They committed violence,
as was usual on every such occasion, and there was much feeling against
them in Tver. It was reported among Russians that the Mongols intended
to kill the Tver prince, his friends, and his family, and clear the
throne for Cholkhan, who would at once put Mongol princes in every part
of Russia, and force his religion on Christians.
Early one morning a deacon was leading to water a young mare in good
flesh; some Mongols rushed to take the beast from him,—they wished to
kill, cook, and eat her. The deacon struggled and shouted; people ran
up to help him; more Mongols hurried to the spot, and a fight began
which developed and extended till it filled the city. Church bells were
tolled. Cholkhan was roused and rushed forth to the battle. At sunrise
all Tver was raging in a desperate conflict. The Grand Prince himself
took part, and pushed into the thickest of the struggle. Both sides
fought all day fiercely, and only toward evening did Alexander force
Cholkhan and his men to the palace, where the Mongols quickly barred
every entrance. But Alexander did not spare his father’s palace; he
fired it with his own hands, and Cholkhan and his Mongols were burned
to death in it. All Mongol merchants were slain; the Tver men spared
not one of them; even those who had lived a long time in the city
received neither quarter nor mercy. They were burned in their houses,
or drowned in the river.
Such was the punishment inflicted on Cholkhan, Uzbek’s cousin. When
Uzbek heard of this massacre, his anger blazed up furiously against the
rebels, and in grief over Cholkhan. He sent at once for the Prince of
Moscow. Ivan delayed not. It seems that his obedience and ready arrival
at Sarai surprised even the Khan. Ivan found every one in great alarm.
The Mongols thought that all Russia had risen in revolt and refused
further obedience. When the true condition was explained, Uzbek gave
the Moscow prince a part of his army to punish the insolent Tver men.
He sent with him also Mongol princes and five commanders, each leading
ten thousand warriors. In fact he gave an army sufficient to conquer a
kingdom. His order was to destroy the Tver principality.
No man had ever seen Uzbek in such convulsions of anger. He roared like
a lion. Not a Tver prince was to be left alive. The whole Russian land
must be harassed. Ivan was to slaughter his own countrymen to avenge
Mongols. Vassili, a Ryazan prince summoned recently for judgment, was
beheaded at once. Later on, when Mongol warriors were at work, the head
of another prince fell at the Khan’s capital. During the summer of
1328, there was great bloodshed throughout all Vladimir. The legions
which came with Ivan, led by Turlyak, were so numerous that no Russian
power could withstand them. Tver and other towns were leveled. All
people who did not flee were either slain or taken captive. Alexander
and his brothers fled to Novgorod, but Novgorod, greatly alarmed, would
not allow them to remain in the city, and they fled to Pskoff. When the
Khan’s warriors approached Novgorod, Ivan sent envoys from himself and
Turlyak. The Novgorod men showed the envoys all honor, paid tribute and
made presents. The city sent then an embassy to Uzbek, and implored
Ivan to conduct it. “Go thou to the Horde,” begged they, “and declare
the obedience of Novgorod.” The prince consented. Constantine of Tver,
Ivan’s cousin, joined the embassy, for Ivan had promised to intercede
in his favor.
It would be difficult to estimate what suffering that outbreak in Tver
brought on Russia; how much torture and anguish that desperate affair
cost the people. The Khan was waiting for news with impatience; when it
came, it was so terrible that he was satisfied. The smoking ruins of
Tver towns and settlements seemed to him a splendid reminder and a hint
strong enough to keep down the disobedient. Tver, Kashin, and all towns
in Torjok and the Tver principality were turned into ashes. People had
been destroyed or taken captive wherever hands or weapons could reach
them. Only those who fled to gloomy forests, where they hid among wild
beasts, survived that dreadful visitation. In time they came back to
their places, and began to work anew, but all were in dire need and
poverty, for their lands were as a desert.
The campaign successfully ended, the Mongols went home with much wealth
and many captives. They not only seized cattle, horses, and property,
but took the wives and daughters of Russians, and the men who were able
to labor. They took everything that pleased them, wherever they found
it. Those who complained or resisted were cut to pieces immediately.
But Moscow and all its lands were free from Mongol rapacity and
massacre.
In the autumn of 1328, Ivan went to the Horde to report that the Khan’s
demand was accomplished. With him were the Novgorod envoys and Feodor
Kolenitsa, their chief man, also Constantine, the Tver prince. Uzbek
met all very graciously, and received Ivan with much honor. He gave him
the Grand Principality, adding lands also to Moscow, and granting
everything that the prince asked for; he gratified Kolenitsa as well.
But he commanded them all to the last man to seek out Alexander and
bring him to the Horde to receive the Khan’s sentence.
After the countless quarrels between princes, and the Mongol raids
which did not cease for even one year during five decades after the
death of Alexander Nevski, the peace which now began, when Nevski’s
grandson, Ivan, became Grand Prince of Vladimir, must have seemed a
miracle. And for many a day it remained in the minds of the people as a
wonderful benefaction. This lasting peace was the great event of Ivan’s
reign. All knew that he had Uzbek’s confidence. Russian princes saw
that the Khan granted whatever Ivan asked of him. They saw this even
before, but when Constantine, brother of the fugitive Alexander, was
confirmed in Tver through Ivan’s influence, all were convinced of
Uzbek’s friendship for him, none more firmly than the Novgorod envoys,
who had visited the Horde with the Grand Prince.
In 1328, upon his return from Sarai, Ivan and the other princes met in
Novgorod, for they had to find Alexander. They decided to send envoys
to that prince, and say, “The Khan summons thee to judgment; wilt thou
suffer for the Russian land like a warrior of Christ, or survive alone,
and give the whole Russian land to destruction?” The envoys returned
with the declaration that the Pskoff men would not yield Alexander.
They had agreed and kissed the cross not to forsake him. He and they
would stand or fall in one company. The princes moved now on Pskoff
with strong forces. Besides Ivan’s army, he commanded Tver troops with
the troops of other princes, and men of Novgorod also. Wishing no harm
to Pskoff, he pitched his camp at some distance and negotiated. He sent
the Novgorod bishop with the Novgorod commander to the prince, and
strove to act with kindness. Alexander was moved to tears and answered
that he was willing to stand before Uzbek, but the Pskoff men swore
that they would not allow him to go from their city. Alexander sent
this message from himself: “It is better that I die for all, than that
all should perish for me. But ye might defend your own brothers and not
yield them to pagans. Ye do just the opposite, and with you ye bring
Mongols.”
“It is impossible to take the prince from Pskoff or drive him from the
city.” These words were current in the camp of the allies. Ivan knew
much more of the true state of affairs than could be gathered from camp
reports, or the words of Alexander. He knew that Pskoff hoped to be
independent of Novgorod, that it wished for its own prince, and thought
that it had one now in Alexander. He knew also that Livonia supported
the city in secret, understanding well that if alone it would be weaker
and more easily subjected, while Lithuania supported Pskoff openly and
roused the city to resistance. Alexander, consciously or not, was the
helper of Gedimin. Ivan knew, perhaps, of a treaty made by Pskoff and
Alexander with Livonia. “The Germans are near them, and they expect aid
from them,” said Ivan in council. It was difficult for him to act. In
those straits he remembered that when Yuri, his brother, was struggling
with Tver, Maxim, the metropolitan, made peace at the outset. There was
still another case, even more memorable. At the time when Dmitri of the
Terrible Eyes, intending to war against Yuri, was leading his troops to
Nizni, and had reached Vladimir, Pyotr, the bishop, stopped him by
refusing to give him his blessing, and Dmitri, after waiting three
weeks, returned home without meeting Yuri. Ivan turned now to Feognost,
the metropolitan, and begged for his assistance.
Feognost consented immediately, and was ready to utter a curse on the
Pskoff prince if he would not stand before Uzbek, and on all the Pskoff
people unless they surrendered him. Envoys were sent to the city
declaring that unless they submitted an interdict would be issued, and
services stopped in the churches. All people would be excommunicated.
“Brothers and friends,” said Alexander to the people, on hearing this
message, “let your oath to me, and my oath to you lose their value. I
will go from your city so that no harm may strike you. I will find
refuge with the Germans or in Lithuania,” and he departed. Pskoff then
informed Ivan that Alexander was no longer with them, and added:
“Pskoff pays thee homage as its Grand Prince.”
Thus Ivan was the first Moscow prince who gave peace to Pskoff in the
old fashion, as he would to his own principality. The metropolitan
blessed the Pskoff people, and Ivan marched homeward with the princes.
After Ivan had reached Moscow, Gedimin proposed that Novgorod should
take as prince his son Narimont, and give him Oraihovo and Ladoga, with
a part of Karelia, as inheritance. Moscow learned then for the first
time that since Ivan had left Pskoff, Alexander had returned, and was
prince there, supported by Gedimin. It was not this return alone which
roused Novgorod, but the treason of the Pskoff men. The city had
accepted Alexander as prince from Lithuania, and were striving now for
church separation. When Vassili, the new archbishop, went from Novgorod
for ordination, Gedimin of Lithuania and Alexander of Pskoff sent
envoys to Feognost, Metropolitan of Russia, then in Volynia. These
envoys took with them Arseni to be bishop in Pskoff. Gedimin had given
Pskoff a prince in Alexander, and would now give a bishop. Feognost
ordained Vassili as Archbishop of Novgorod, but refused to ordain
Arseni, and Alexander’s envoys returned without a bishop. Gedimin,
enraged by the Novgorod success, and the failure of Arseni, sent men to
seize Vassili, but, warned by a messenger from Feognost, he escaped the
Lithuanians, and returned in safety to Novgorod.
Alexander managed Pskoff for ten years, while Constantine and Vassili,
his brothers, ruled the Tver region,—the first in Tver, the chief city,
the second in Kashin in the northern part of the Tver principality.
Ivan had reconciled the Tver princes with Uzbek, and as they were
friendly and obedient their position was easy. Ivan asked of them only
to leave the road free between Moscow and Novgorod,—Tver held the way
between those two cities. Vladimir, the capital of the principality,
was occupied by Alexander, the Suzdal prince, not as a capital, but as
a possession. Ivan lived at all times in Moscow, which had become the
real capital of Russia. Uzbek, as stated already, gave him many lands
in addition, giving Vladimir meanwhile to the Suzdal prince.
Several princes found themselves tied to Ivan through relationship. He
gave one of his daughters to Vassili, Prince of Yaroslavl, another to
Constantine of Rostoff. Those princes, fearing to disobey their
father-in-law, had worked with him loyally thus far.
Besides having the Khan’s confidence, Ivan was strong through the
tribute. No other Grand Prince had given the Khan such an income; and
no prince held such uncontrolled management of tribute. This gave Ivan
unique power and position. Of all princes in that day he was the only
one, or at least the only one known to us, who had a fixed object. He
took no part in local quarrels in favor of one or another region. He
strove for Russia, and when prince only in Moscow he saw all Russia far
in the future. This was clearly shown in his every act, not merely in
the title which he assumed, “Grand Prince of Moscow and All Russia,”
but in his relations with other princes and with Novgorod, and even
with Uzbek. To preserve the Russian land in its integrity was, by the
very working of fate, to preserve the Khan’s lordship, and support it
for a season. There is no doubt that Ivan explained always to Uzbek the
harmful growth of Lithuania, and as he himself warred with that power,
so he roused Uzbek to war with it. He showed the Khan, too, the immense
wealth of Novgorod in the distant lands of the East and the Pechora, to
which Novgorod admitted no Grand Prince. Uzbek rewarded and honored his
untiring assistant, and Ivan all the more easily reached his object,
calling himself with deep reason Grand Prince, not of Moscow alone, but
of all Russia.
Throughout his whole reign, Ivan had no personal quarrels; he deprived
no prince of his inheritance, he made war on no rival. Still he kept
all in obedience. At that epoch Alexander, the Tver prince, was beyond
doubt the most important of the princes. Owing to Ivan’s
non-interference, Alexander reigned ten years in Pskoff without
annoyance; neither with arms nor with words did Ivan disturb him, but
he watched Alexander’s connections with Gedimin and with Livonia, and
forgot no intrigue of his.
Novgorod, fearing the power of Ivan, sought his good-will, offered
friendship, and did not refuse to send Moscow more tribute than it had
sent Vladimir. As Prince of Novgorod he might have been satisfied with
the tribute, and the honor with which Novgorod strove to placate him,
but as chief of all Russia he was not content with this; he demanded
what the city owed to all Russia. Ivan would never yield to Novgorod
when it claimed single ownership of regions beyond the Volok, nor would
he pardon its boyars for threatening to favor Lithuania. On those
points he warred with the city at all times. During his reign he made
Novgorod feel very clearly that he did not ask an extra thousand of
grievens to build up Moscow, but that the boundaries fixed from the
days of Yuri Dolgoruki, Andrei Bogolyubski, and Big Nest must be given
to Vladimir. Besides he showed the Novgorod men that not to their city
alone, but to all Russia, was open the road to the whole northern
country. And the region beyond the Ural Mountains, the Kamen, as it was
then called (beyond the Kamen meant Siberia) was, as Ivan considered
it, the property, not of Novgorod alone, but of all Russia. Novgorod,
however, insisted most stubbornly that those regions belonged to her
exclusively. The Moscow prince would not concede this claim, and
watched with the utmost care those relations which then began between
Novgorod and Lithuania.
The boyars of Novgorod not only considered that they had a right to
invite a prince from Lithuania, but apparently they were ready to place
Novgorod under Lithuanian protection, if thus they could keep
independent of other princes, and preserve to their city those rich,
boundless lands on the north and the east.
Ivan would not admit for a moment that they had the right to call in a
foreign prince, or owned exclusively those lands which they claimed for
their own.
In 1332, when returning from the Horde, Ivan made a demand in the name
of the Khan to which the people of Novgorod gave a stern refusal. He
insisted, and to make sure of their compliance he seized the Upper
Baijets and Torjok immediately. From that began a long quarrel. At
times Novgorod seemed to yield, and the quarrel apparently ceased;
again it would blaze up on the city’s renewed refusal. Thus the dispute
continued during Ivan’s reign.
The main cause of the dispute was the silver beyond the Ural Mountains.
Ivan demanded from Novgorod an income from places claimed by the city,
no part of which income should go to any prince ruling in Novgorod. He
wished to extend taxes over all Novgorod possessions to the boundaries
of Siberia.
In proportion as Novgorod quarreled with Ivan, it tried to be intimate
with Pskoff. Vassili, the archbishop, having added stone walls to the
Kremlin of Novgorod, found it proper to visit Pskoff and give the
people his blessing, withheld since his installation, at which time he
had opposed Pskoff’s efforts to separate from the diocese. A son had
just been born to Alexander. The bishop baptized him, and was one of
the godfathers of this little prince, named for his grandfather,
Michael.
At that time Novgorod had entered into friendship with Lithuania, and
Narimont, son of Gedimin, had arrived in the city. Novgorod received
him with gladness, and gave him Ladoga with Oraihova and Karelia in
part as a portion. In view of these acts Ivan went to Sarai, and when
he came back it was stated that he had been shown great honor, and had
gained large accessions of power while with Uzbek. This alarmed
Novgorod. During Ivan’s absence the Novgorod archbishop had gone on a
visit to Moscow, bearing gifts from the city to the metropolitan, who
had just come from Tsargrad. The archbishop begged the metropolitan to
speak with Ivan about Novgorod. This intercession succeeded, for when
envoys arrived in Moscow and invited Ivan to Novgorod, he set aside his
dislike for the city, entered Novgorod February 16, 1335, and was
received there in triumph. They offered to add all their forces to his,
and fall upon Pskoff if he so ordered. But he would not attack Pskoff
at that period; he accepted their service, however, and marched on
Lithuania. His forces, and those of the city, took towns in good
number, and though this Lithuanian campaign was not the most important
in conquest, it was in agreement.
Meanwhile Gedimin’s son had not justified Novgorod’s hopes in him, and
he went back at last to his father. This freed Ivan’s hands, for he had
been gracious to Novgorod partly because of this young prince’s
presence at Ladoga. At this time Novgorod yielded in many, if not in
all things to Ivan. He bought lands where he liked in Novgorod regions,
and founded villages in them, a thing which Novgorod had never
permitted to any prince. Still he yielded no claim touching Russia. The
great contention as to what belonged to Novgorod, and what was all
Russia’s dominion was still undecided. Novgorod now sought again the
Pskoff friendship. But the Pskoff men knew well that Novgorod’s desire
for friendship came from dread of Ivan, Prince of Moscow. They knew
also that a little while earlier Novgorod had offered aid against
Pskoff, if Ivan wished to have it. There was no quarrel or hatred on
either side at the time of the offer, and it had been made purely from
policy; passion had had nothing to do with the matter.
If Ivan, as Grand Prince of all Russia, preferred his demands against
Novgorod so insistently, we may understand very well that he was not
tender with princes of small strength. Attendants and boyars of small
princes went to serve him by preference, Moscow’s success was desired
by all people who toiled and produced, because order and quietness came
from it. No prince could rival Ivan in power and in resources. He
surpassed not only each Russian prince separately, but he was stronger
than any combination which might be made among them. For long years
Ivan had worked at winning wealth and power. He had worked successfully
and with great diligence. Then Uzbek gave him lands in addition to
Moscow, and gave him perfect control of all tribute from other princes.
This made his position unequaled. Ivan now held the purse. He kept such
firm order that merchants felt safe to expose their goods everywhere.
New markets on the Volga and elsewhere were opened. In Northern Russia
Yaroslavl, near the mouth of the Mologa, a river which enters the
Volga, was a place where German, Persian, Greek and Italian merchants
met and sold goods during summer. The revenue from transactions was
large. Boats covered the Volga, and till the sixteenth century this
market was an important one in Russia.
Ivan purchased from poor princes not only villages, but towns such as
Uglitch, Bailozersk, and Galitch beyond the Volga, and thus increased
his inheritance unceasingly. He also bought from boyars and
monasteries, and exchanged with them. He received presents of land and
property through wills of friends and relatives. With the wealth which
belonged to him personally, and that which pertained to his office, he
was able to meet all possible demands.
Responsible to the Khan for Russian tribute, and paying this tribute at
regular intervals, he frequently had to pay for princes who lacked
ready money. Of these some grew insolvent and paid him with land. All,
in greater or less degree, were dependent upon him; all in fact needed
his protection. Without regard to the murmurs of Novgorod boyars, he
bought towns and villages in Novgorod regions continually. So,
extending power from his capital always with the rights of a Grand
Prince, to which he knew how to give proper emphasis, he was strong at
all points, and for many reasons. Consequently boyars and warriors of
weakening principalities went gladly to the service of Moscow.
Alexander, Prince of Pskoff for about ten years, was disturbed by no
one. It was quite impossible that the Khan did not know what Alexander
was doing, or had forgotten that Cholkhan, his favorite cousin, had
been killed by him. At last Alexander left Pskoff of his own accord.
Lest his son might lose Tver through his father’s exile, he resolved to
appear at the Horde and hear the Khan’s sentence. It was thirteen years
since his first visit, and now he was ten years in disobedience. To the
astonishment of Mongol magnates, and of the Khan himself, Alexander
stood before him, not only without trembling, but with a clear eye; and
all were astounded at the words which he uttered:
“Supreme Sovereign,” said he, “though I have committed much evil, and
am guilty before thee, I have come hither of my own will, and am ready
to receive life or death, as God shall announce to thee. If, for the
sake of God, through thy greatness thou give me pardon, I will thank
God and thy grace; if thou give me death, I am worthy of death.” At
this he bowed down, and added, “My head is at thy disposal.”
For a moment Uzbek was dumb from astonishment, and all present
wondered. Alexander was kneeling with bowed head, and in silence. “See
ye,” said Uzbek at last, “how with obedient wisdom Alexander has saved
himself.” The Khan pardoned him straightway, gave him back the Tver
principality, and sent him home without injury.
But Alexander from the first had an ominous feeling, a presentiment
that evil days were approaching. When the Khan’s officials had
installed him, and Abdul, the chief envoy, was returning to Sarai, “to
show the Khan favor,” he took to the Golden Horde Alexander’s son,
Feodor. Soon news came from this prince of fifteen years that for some
unknown reason the Khan was very angry, and would not dismiss him.
Alexander understood then that his son had been taken as a hostage.
The return of Alexander to Tver signified a return to the old quarrels
with Moscow. It meant trouble also in governing. Alexander brought with
him to Tver new boyars and warriors, partly strangers. The chief of
these boyars was a German from Livonia. The Tver boyars were not
pleased with this man, or with the return of Alexander. The Moscow
prince, of course, could not expect such relations with Alexander as
with Constantine. The old rivalry was remembered, and with Alexander
were renewed the claims of the Tver principality not to depend on the
Prince of all Russia, but to be quite apart from him and separate.
Through this example and also through advice from Alexander, other
princes showed the same tendencies. As soon as Tver had left that
position which for some years it had held toward Ivan, a similar
movement appeared in other places, especially in Yaroslavl, where
David, Ivan’s son-in-law, showed clear disobedience. Unpleasant reports
came from Lithuania. It seemed as though Ivan had lost in one moment,
and fatally, all that he had gained step by step for a decade. Was he
now to be Grand Prince of Russia, or was the old rivalry between Moscow
and Tver to begin again? Alexander felt the need of explaining
relations with Moscow, but Ivan avoided discussions of all sorts.
Envoys came at last to Ivan from Alexander, but Ivan would not talk
upon any subject with the Tver prince, hence there was no result from
the action of the envoys.
Ivan went now to the Horde. This visit of his to Uzbek produced on all
a peculiar impression. He took with him his eldest and second sons,
Simeon and Ivan; the youngest, Andrei, he sent to Novgorod. This
sending of a son to Novgorod was not without special meaning. Ivan had
remained two years, not in peace, not in war with the city. Lord
Novgorod had not met his demands, and he had not dropped them. By
sending Andrei to the city at this juncture, Ivan reminded Novgorod men
once again that he looked on their capital as his inheritance.
At Novgorod the usual disorders were active. Gedimin’s son, who had
been absent for a time in Lithuania, had returned, but there was great
dissatisfaction with him, for he did not show sufficient energy in
defending their borders against the Swedes.
Ivan came back from the Horde with added power and new honor. All
princes were placed under his hand still more firmly. It became known
very quickly that, owing to Ivan’s suggestion, the princes were
summoned to Sarai to receive the Khan’s commands.
Alexander knew that now he must go, and that he would never again see
Tver. He sent quickly to his son for any information which he might
have regarding the affair. The tidings which came back were woeful and
he hesitated. An envoy now came to Alexander from the Khan promising
him favor, but at the same time reminding him that his son was held as
hostage. If a year before the Tver prince had hastened to the Horde
when he himself was in danger, he hastened all the more now when Feodor
was threatened.
Meanwhile Ivan had gone to Sarai still a second time, and taken with
him his three sons. Before Alexander’s arrival at the Horde Ivan was
back in Moscow, but his sons had wished to remain with the Khan.
With Alexander went the princes of Bailozero and Yaroslavl. When the
Tver prince approached the Khan’s capital, his son came to meet him,
and with tearful eyes told of Uzbek’s dreadful anger. “God’s will be
done,” said Alexander. “If I do not die now, I shall die on some other
day.” In accord with Mongol custom, he presented rich gifts to the Khan
and his magnates, but the gifts were received in gloomy silence. His
offenses were not declared, nor were questions asked him. It was
announced that the Khan had commanded to give him to death without
trial. But till his last day, October 28, 1339, he enjoyed freedom.
That morning he sent to one of the Khan’s wives, who had been kind to
Feodor, to learn his fate; then he mounted a horse to make the inquiry
in person. She did not conceal from the prince that his last sun had
risen.
Returning to his tent, Alexander embraced Feodor, and took farewell of
his attendants. He kissed his boyars, asking pardon of all, then he and
his son with the boyars took holy communion. Soon after that they heard
the executioners approaching, and Alexander and Feodor went forth to
meet them. The men stripped the clothes from the two princes, tied
their hands, and led them toward Tablubey, the Khan’s magnate, who was
present on horseback. “Kill them!” commanded Tablubey. The executioners
hurled the prince and his son to the earth, beat both with fists, and
then, after trampling them to death, cut their heads off. Alexander’s
attendants carried the bodies to Tver.
That winter Ivan’s three sons were sent home in high favor. By command
of “the Godless Uzbek,” adds the chronicler, “the following princes
were put to death during that winter: Feodor of Starodub, Ivan and
Vassili of Ryazan, and Alexander Novosilski.”
The position acquired by Ivan through the favor of Uzbek was evident to
all other princes. They knew, moreover, that after his death no change
would be made. Every measure had been taken to give primacy to his
family, and not to another.
Six months had not passed after the death of Alexander and his son,
when Ivan died, March 31, 1340, being about fifty years of age. He died
before his time, and perhaps unexpectedly, but he was able to go to
Spasski, his favorite monastery, and put on the monk’s habit. He was
buried in the Archangel Cathedral, his tomb being the first in that
series of Moscow sovereigns, his descendants.
Uzbek, besides appreciating Ivan as a servant who was faithful and who
worked for him zealously, liked the man personally. He placed him above
all the princes, honored him in sovereign style, and made him presents.
Among those presents was a bag, the Mongol kalitá, destined to historic
celebrity. Of Ivan it was said by those who praised him that to the
poor he stretched a hand which was never empty; that whenever he went
from his palace he filled his kalitá with coins and gave them to the
poor whom he met in his progress. “Not precious the gift,” says the
proverb, “but precious the love which goes with it,” and Ivan Kalitá,
as people came to call him from the gift of the Khan which ever
afterward he used so constantly, gave his coins affably, for he liked
much to give to the needy. The kalitá which he had received from
Uzbek’s own hands might be considered emblematic of his leading
activity and methods. Though one use of this kalitá was to carry coins
for the needy, Ivan’s purse had other uses. It was the clearing house
of Russia in his day. Into it flowed the tribute and taxes; out of it
went the sums for which account was imperative; with him remained for
use in his struggle for supremacy all profits and remnants of every
kind. One of the most important acts of Ivan’s life was the removal of
the religious capital of Russia from Vladimir to Moscow. During his
pastoral visits, Peter of Lithuania, at that time metropolitan, came to
Moscow frequently, and conceived a friendship for Ivan. Later he spent
all of his time in Moscow, where he died and was buried. His last words
to Kalitá were: “If you obey me, my son, you will build a church here
and give repose to my bones in your city. You and your sons and your
grandsons will thus gain more fame than all the other princes, and this
place will be renowned. The pastors of the church will dwell in it, and
it will be above all other cities.” The church was built. The
succeeding metropolitan would not desert the house and tomb of the holy
Peter, and Moscow became the center of religious administration.
During 1340 died Ivan Kalitá, Gedimin, and Uzbek Khan of the Golden
Horde, three men who left profound traces in Russia.
Before touching on Gedimin, we must give some account of his dynasty.
In the district of Kovno, on the right bank of the Dubissa, is a place
called Eiragola. In the thirteenth century there was a small wooden
castle in Eiragola, and from that castle came the Lithuanian princes.
The first noted man of this line was Mindog; the first great one was
Gedimin. Mindog was sure of success in that place and epoch. He was a
man for whom all means were equally good, if equally effective. He had
only one way of judging an action,—might it be of use to him, and had
he power to commit it?
When Batu had conquered Eastern Russia, the Lithuanian princes fell to
raiding the west of that country, but in 1246, while returning from a
raid, they were overtaken near Pinsk and scattered by Daniel of Galitch
and his brother, Vassilko. The next year, another such party was
crushed by those same princes.
In 1252, Mindog sent Vykint, his uncle, and two nephews, Tovtivil and
Edivil, to attack Smolensk places, and to ravage the country. “Let each
of you keep what he wins,” said he at parting. But these words were
used simply to mislead and deceive his three relatives. As soon as they
had gone, Mindog seized their possessions, and sent warriors to follow
and kill them. They heard of this treachery in season, and took refuge
quickly with Daniel, who had married the sister of Tovtivil and Edivil.
Mindog sent at once to Daniel, asking him not to assist them, but
Daniel paid no heed to this message; first through regard for his
wife’s brothers and her uncle, and second because he wished to weaken
Mindog and his people. After counseling with Vassilko, Daniel formed a
plan. He sent to Polish princes this message: “It is time for us to
fall upon pagans, since they are warring against one another.” He sent
similar messages to the Yatvyags, to Jmud, and to the Germans in Riga.
Vykint, Daniel’s envoy, roused the Yatvyags, and half the Jmud region.
The Germans sent this answer to Daniel: “Though Vykint, thy relative,
has killed many of our men, we have made peace with him, and will
assist you.” The brothers now set out to make war in earnest. Daniel
sent Vassilko to Volkovisk, his son to Slonim, and then marched to
Zditov. They captured many towns and returned to Galitch well
satisfied. After that, he sent Tovtivil with Russians and Polovtsi
against Mindog. The Germans made no move whatever, until Tovtivil went
to Riga, where he received baptism from them; then they made ready for
action.
Mindog saw that he could not meet two foes in one conflict. He could
not war with the Germans and Daniel of Galitch at the same time. Hence
he sent secretly rich gifts to the Grand Master Von Schtükland, and the
following proposal: “If thou kill Tovtivil or expel him, thou wilt get
still greater gifts from me.” Von Schtükland replied that he felt
immense friendship for Mindog, but could give no aid till baptism had
changed him. Mindog asked for a meeting, which was granted, and he
settled the question while feasting with Von Schtükland. The Lithuanian
prince was to be baptized. On hearing this news, the Pope was
delighted, and wrote to the bishop that no one should offend the new
convert. The Bishop of Culm was to crown him.
But Mindog was forced to Christianity under the sword-blade, just as
the Prussians had been forced to it earlier, and had gone back to the
faith of their fathers whenever the chance came. Mindog, however,
escaped all the dangers which threatened him from the Order. Tovtivil
fled to Vykint, his uncle. He assembled warriors from the Yatvyags and
Jmud, and, aided by warriors from Daniel, marched against Mindog
assisted now by the Germans.
During 1252, the war was not marked by notable action, but in 1253
Daniel took part in it personally, and with such success that Mindog
asked for peace. He offered his daughter to Daniel’s son, Svaromir, and
found still other means of persuasion.
Tovtivil declared now that Mindog had bribed the Yatvyags, who refused
to assist Daniel longer. Daniel was enraged at the Yatvyags, but that
could not serve him. Two years passed. In 1255, there was peace between
Daniel of Galitch and Mindog’s son, Voishelk. Voishelk was a man
greatly noted, even in that time of bloodshed. Mindog was cruel and
terrible, but Voishelk surpassed him, if the annalist is truthful.
Voishelk shed blood from his youth up. “Every day he killed three or
four men for amusement. When his time passed without bloodshed, he was
sad, and when he had killed a man, good feeling returned to him.”
All at once news came of Voishelk’s baptism; nay, more, it was said
that he had left ruling, and had put on a monk’s habit. This man now
appeared as a peacemaker between Daniel and Mindog. The conditions
seemed so favorable that Daniel did not reject them. Daniel’s son,
Svaromir (familiarly Shvarn), was to marry Mindog’s daughter; Shvarn’s
elder brother, Roman, was to have Novgrodek from Mindog, and Daniel was
to get Slonim and Volkovisk from Voishelk, on condition of recognizing
Mindog as his superior in those places.
Mindog had promised the Order to accept its religion for himself and
all the people under him. He was to receive the friendship of the
Order, and the kingly office as a reward. In exchange, he was to give
the Order various places in Jmud, those same places where there had
been such terrible bloodshed because of newcomers fleeing from Prussia.
The friendship seemed to be made for the ages, and a speedy union of
the two lands appeared imminent. In case that he had no heir, Mindog
agreed to give his kingdom to Livonia, now of one faith with him.
The Bishop of Culm came with priests and monks; the Grand Master with
knights of the Order. Mindog was christened, anointed, and crowned at
Novgrodek. Pope Innocent IV in 1255 blessed the new convert to war
against Russia and its inhabitants who were schismatic, and confirmed
in advance to him all regions which he might join to his kingdom.
“The God-Crowned King,” as he was entitled, freed himself gradually
from every one. From Tovtivil he freed himself by perfidy; from the
Yatvyags by money, from Daniel through marriage and lands, from Poland
by victories. One Polish prince was slain in battle, another was
captured. Then the Knights of Livonia discovered what kind of man their
good friend and new convert was. Mindog turned on them and fought like
a hero. He sent a message stating that he dropped them and their
baptism. He roused Jmud to the struggle, and those people whom he had
so recently surrendered to the Order rose up against it in pitiless
warfare. To one who did not understand Mindog’s keen policy, it might
seem strange that he should show such hatred for his godfathers, and
should openly irritate the Order. The Germans, however, knew from the
first that his conversion was feigned for the purpose of obtaining aid.
He did not cease to observe the ancient rites of his people; he made
sacrifices to their deities, but for him that was not sufficient. He
was a shrewd leader of men; he had also learned the policy of Germans.
It was necessary to fire the hearts of his people, and to purify
himself perfectly from any taint of German religion, hence before
Lithuanians he ridiculed his own pretended conversion.
The Germans made war on him promptly, but were defeated. Mindog, in
celebrating his victory, made a great sacrifice. It was not enough for
him to burn bulls and horses; he took one of the knights whom he had
captured and burned him on horseback in complete battle armor, as an
offering.
After the marriage of his daughter to Daniel’s son, Mindog sustained
friendly relations with Russia. He made more than one campaign with
Daniel and Vassilko against the Yatvyags and disobedient Lithuanians,
and against the Poles, and princes of Northern Russia. He went against
the Livonian Knights to fight Riga. When Daniel became a widower, he
married a niece of Mindog. Mindog had power now, but he had become too
important for his family. His relatives were enraged at his
haughtiness; they would not permit him to so exalt himself, and though
he was the single ruler of all Lithuania, they ceased not to plan his
death. At last personal hatred subdued the man.
Mindog’s wife died in 1262, and he grieved much. To her sister, the
wife of Prince Dovmont, he sent this message: “Thy sister is dead; come
to see us.” When she came, Mindog said: “When dying, thy sister
commanded me to marry thee, that her children might not be tormented.”
And he took his sister-in-law as wife.
Dovmont, in deep anger, planned to kill Mindog. Seeking an ally, he
found one in Trenyat, the Jmud prince. In 1263, Mindog sent all his
troops against Roman of Bryansk, who ruled east of the Dnieper. Dovmont
was in that expedition. While on the road he declared to the leaders
that a wizard had warned him not to advance farther, and leaving the
army, he returned straightway to Mindog’s castle, where he killed him
and his two sons.
Trenyat, very likely through a bargain with Dovmont, began to reign in
Lithuania in place of Mindog, and also in Jmud, and sent to Tovtivil of
Polotsk, his brother, saying: “Come at once; we will seize the whole
land and all Mindog’s substance.”
The division caused a quarrel. Tovtivil began to think how to kill
Trenyat, and Trenyat how to be rid of his brother. Tovtivil’s boyar
informed Trenyat of the prince’s designs. Trenyat, being quicker than
Tovtivil, killed him and reigned unassisted, but his reign was not
long. Four of Mindog’s equerries, to avenge their late prince, murdered
Trenyat.
Voishelk, when he learned of his father’s death, went to Minsk, but
when he heard that Trenyat had been assassinated, he set out with Pinsk
forces for Novgrodek, and from there, taking more warriors, he went to
Lithuania, where his father’s adherents received him most joyfully. He
began to reign, and as if to make men forget that he had ever worn a
monk’s habit, he fell to slaying his enemies wherever he found them. In
his new rôle of avenger he surpassed himself. Along the Nieman and all
the Jmud boundaries Voishelk shed blood for the death of his father.
When he had restored what had been taken from Mindog’s possessions, and
extended them, and had almost exterminated his father’s enemies, he
yielded all to his brother-in-law. He wished to be a monk and retire to
Mount Athos. No matter how Shvarn begged, he would not remain, he would
have no earthly dominion. “I have sinned much before God and man,”
replied Voishelk. “Do thou rule; the land is in peace now.”
This was the year that Daniel of Galitch died, and shortly before his
decease Voishelk asked him for a safe-conduct to Mount Athos. But as
there was war in Bulgaria, the would-be monk was forced to turn back
without seeing the holy mountain. He settled then in Volynia, built a
monastery, and passed the remainder of his life in seclusion.
Voishelk and Dovmont are considered as cousins. The fate of the two is
remarkable; one became a monk, the other a warrior. Dovmont fled from
civil war in Lithuania, taking his troops with him. He was baptized in
Pskoff and married the daughter of Prince Dmitri, son of Nevski. He
became a great favorite of his father-in-law. Pskoff was thereafter
safe, not only from Lithuanian raids, but from the Knights of Livonia,
whom he drove from the walls of the city and followed into the depths
of the forests. Though Dovmont fought many battles he never lost one,
and he governed the Pskoff people with firmness and wisdom. Voishelk
assumed the monk’s habit, but the habit and the building of a monastery
were accounted as nothing to Voishelk, while Dovmont’s sword is held
sacred in Pskoff, even to our day.
Lithuania fell back into anarchy. There were continual struggles
between the descendants of Mindog and other princes, who would not
accept their supremacy, and no distinguished man appeared until
Gedimin. In 1315 Gedimin replaced Viten, and about this time died Yuri
Lvovitch, the grandson of Daniel and the last prince of both Galitch
and Volynia.
In 1316 Andrei and Lev, the two sons of Yuri, divided Volynia and
Galitch between them. But the great Roman’s inheritance was of small
use to those, his weak and last male descendants. Those two sons of
Yuri Lvovitch had each a daughter, one of whom married the Mazovian
prince, Troiden; the other married Lyubart, a son of Gedimin. Lyubart
received Volynia with his princess and laid claim to Galitch. So the
Lithuania of Gedimin’s day was increased by almost the whole of South
Russia.
Rome, meanwhile, did not cease to consider Lithuania as one of its
bishoprics. The churches of Livonia and Lithuania were spoken of as
neighboring churches, and the Pope acted in Lithuania through Livonia.
But about the time Gedimin began to rule, a dispute was raging between
the knights and the Bishop of Riga. The bishop complained to the Pope
that the knights, by their greed, love of power, and savage treatment,
turned people away from Christianity. The knights declared that the
bishops, in dealing with conquered people, influenced them against the
knights and encouraged them in paganism. They proved to the Pope that
the Bishop of Riga had invited the people more than once to act against
the Order; that the bishops negotiated in secret with Lithuanian
princes and extended their influence over the people; that they acted
in spite of the Order, and used the Order only when they had need of
its services. In view of such contradictory statements, the Pope took
sometimes the side of the bishop, and sometimes the side of the Order,
not hindering either side, however, in continuing the “sacred work” of
converting the infidels.
Through the Bishop of Riga the Pope received in 1323 a message from
Gedimin stating that he was ready for baptism, as were all people under
him. He asked that the knights be prevented from making war on
Lithuania, and declared that the Order had stopped him from having
relations directly with the Curia; that they helped in no way to
Christianize people.
At the same time letters went to the Franciscans and Dominicans in
Riga, requesting that monks be sent to Lithuania. Letters were sent
also to Germany with offers of free trade, and asking for colonists.
The Pope was delighted with the letter from Gedimin, and commanded the
Order to stop warlike action in view of Lithuania’s conversion. The
Archbishop of Riga made a friendly alliance with Gedimin, and the Order
was forced to join also.
In due time envoys appeared from Rome, and when they had confirmed all
agreements between Lithuania and Livonia, they set out to find Gedimin
and establish the Catholic faith in his capital and elsewhere. They
intended to baptize and crown the Lithuanian prince, and then baptize
all his subjects, but this they were unable to do.
In Vilna they found things very different from what they had expected.
They found great hatred for the German religion; they found, to their
astonishment, Orthodox churches; they found also that the heathen
Lithuanians not only threatened to hurl Gedimin from power if he tried
to baptize them, but to exterminate his whole family. They saw that all
Jmud and the Prussians would rise if Gedimin endeavored to bring in the
German religion. Besides this, Gedimin’s Russian Orthodox subjects
formed three-fourths of the whole population; they also threatened
loudly. Thus opposed on two sides, his position would have been
difficult had he really wished to introduce the German religion.
Gedimin had been christened in the Orthodox faith, whether through
conviction or policy we may not determine at this day, but his motives
must have been overwhelming, either to remain pagan or become Orthodox.
He sent the legates away. They went back enraged and indignant at the
faith-breaking ruler. But Gedimin found no fault in himself; he found
it on the other side. Each side accused the other, but it was difficult
to tell which was the more perfidious. Illiterate Lithuania carried on
its home correspondence in Russian, but with Rome and the West the
Livonian Germans helped Gedimin in Latin, and he had monks for that
purpose from Vilna. It proved that those zealous aids, in their Latin
letters sent to Rome by the way of Riga, had written much over
Gedimin’s name which he would not acknowledge. In every case, when
thunders struck him from the Vatican, and throughout Western Europe men
called him a preternatural deceiver and liar, a forerunner of
Antichrist, who trampled on laws divine and human, Gedimin justified
himself, saying that the Latin writers had not correctly translated his
words; he had never uttered the words which they had written.
The German now became more troublesome than ever. Gedimin was forced to
perpetual conflict with his neighbors. The knights, warring continually
on the banks of the Niemen, made their attacks in the form of
excursions, which they called “journeys.” Men came in large numbers
from every part of the Holy Roman Empire to join those excursions. In
1336 there came of simple knights about two hundred counts and princes,
and the Grand Master formed for their amusement what might be called a
great pagan hunt.
Like the founder of Riga, his successor, the Grand Master did not cease
to baptize pagan people, who later on complained to all Europe in these
words: “Listen to us, O princes spiritual and secular! The knights are
not seeking our souls for God; they are seeking our land for their own
use. They have brought us to this,—that we must either beg or be
robbers if we are to save the lives in us. The knights are worse than
the Mongols. All that the land gives, or that bees gather in they take.
They do not let us kill a beast, or catch a fish, or trade with our
neighbors. They take our children as hostages, our elders they hunt off
to Prussia and imprison; our sisters and daughters they take for
themselves. And still those men wear the cross of Christ on their
mantles! Have pity on us. We too are men, and not wild beasts. We would
take Christianity, and be baptized not in blood, but in sacred water.”
When the knights did not cease visiting their “godchildren,” the latter
greeted them with these words: “What place will ye rob now, for
everything is taken by your prelates and priests,—all wool, honey, and
milk. They teach Christianity poorly.”
The Grand Master, for the amusement of his guests, made an “excursion”
to the island of Pillene, where four thousand people of Jmud, men,
women, and children, together with their elders, had entrenched
themselves strongly. In vain did the Germans fill the ditches, attack
and cut down people; they could not take the place. At last they hurled
in burning arrows wrapped with a blazing substance, and the fortress
took fire on all sides.
The besieged resolved to perish. They built up a great pile of wood,
and threw on to it all that they held of most value. That done, they
slew one another; fathers killed their children, husbands their wives,
and put the bodies on the pile. The few who remained arranged
themselves in pairs and stabbed one another; those who died first were
placed on the pile by those who died later. The elder of the people
stood apart and watched everything to the end. When all the others were
dead he killed his wife, put her on the pile, and set fire to it, then
he mounted the blazing wood, killed himself, and burned with his
people. When the knights broke in they found no one to finish, and had
merely to tell in their annals of the dreadful tragedy in which they
had played the part both of actors and of audience.
Gedimin declared entire liberty to the Orthodox Church, and before his
countrymen he announced himself a defender of that pagan faith to which
they adhered so devotedly. In Vilna the znitch (sacred fire) was
maintained without dying, and every rite of that interesting Lithuanian
religion was supported in its primitive vigor. For this he was
denounced, and the Livonian Knights began war for that cross the symbol
of which, together with a sword, they wore embroidered on their
mantles.
Gedimin went out to meet them, and this was his last encounter with
Germans. On the right bank of the Niemen in that Jmud land was a strong
fortress, Velona, a defense against Germans, almost on the edge of that
district which the Knights of the Cross and Livonia had conquered. Thus
far they had not been able to take Velona, and even now they did not
venture to storm it. They determined to destroy the stronghold in
another way. They built a fortress at each side of it, and set about
starving out the garrison.
Gedimin came to the rescue of his people, and was soon besieging the
Germans in their two fortresses. Firearms had become known in the West
only a short time before, and the Germans were now using guns, which
later on were called “squealers.” During the conflict, Gedimin was
killed by a ball. He was taken to Vilna and seated on his favorite
horse. By him were placed his faithful armor-bearer, his hunting-dogs
and falcons, and he and they were then burned according to the
primitive ritual of the Lithuanians. With him were burned three German
knights in full armor, and much booty taken from Germans.
Gedimin had married twice, each time a Russian princess. Five of his
sons were Orthodox and belong entirely to Russian history. Of five
daughters, four received Orthodox baptism, and two—Maria, the widow of
Dmitri of Tver, surnamed Terrible Eyes, and Augusta, the first wife of
Ivan Kalitá’s son—died nuns. Gedimin left a domain extending from the
Niemen to the Lower Dnieper and the Dniester, including Kief, the
ancient capital. This state, by special structure, population and
religion, was for the greater part Russian, especially in language.
Of Gedimin’s sons who survived him, seven are mentioned. Of these the
ablest and most important was Olgerd, with whom his brother, Keistut,
was associated closely. Olgerd’s first wife was a daughter of the
Vitebsk prince who left no sons, and through this wife Olgerd inherited
her father’s possessions. Soon after Gedimin’s death, Olgerd seized
power over all his brothers, took Vilna and became the one ruler of
Lithuania. This meant at that time Kief and the best part of Russia.
Russian chronicles, without praising Olgerd, give him full justice. His
self-restraint was unparalleled. He refrained from vain things most
carefully, from sports and amusements of all kinds. He drank no wine,
beer or mead. He was temperate in every way; from this, he acquired
clear reason and great keenness. His mind was ever working; he toiled
day and night at extending his dominion; he won many countries and
lands; he subjected cities with all the broad regions under them; he
increased his possessions untiringly. Olgerd was equally at home in
Lithuania and Russia. He spoke with the Jmud men like a neighbor;
Russian was his language from childhood. With the Knights of the Cross
he could speak in German, and he knew something of Latin.
With Lithuanian princes love of war was inborn, but Olgerd surpassed
all men in the cunning of his sudden attacks, and the subtle
concealment of his purpose. There was no man more unsparing and
ruthless than Olgerd. He warred with the Mongols near Kief, and hunted
them out of Podolia. He inflicted bloody defeat on the Germans near the
Niemen, while helping Lyubart, his brother. He drove the Poles from
Volynia and Galitch, and fought with them in their own places; he
threatened also the Hungarians. Olgerd’s sword was the most terrible
ever wielded by a man of his dynasty; while defending Polotsk from
Livonia it defended Volynia and Kief from Polish inroads.
But that which might satisfy Mindog or Gedimin could not satisfy
Olgerd. To be prince of Lithuania and one half of Russia was not his
ambition; he was striving for more than that, striving for power over
Smolensk, Tver, Pskoff, Novgorod, and Moscow. He aspired to be ruler of
all Russia. The Moscow princes had in him a dangerous enemy. Hence the
Grand Prince of Moscow, in struggling to consolidate Russia, and put
himself at the head of it, had a problem of the utmost complication and
difficulty.