At the end of the festivities, when Yaroslav had taken farewell of his hosts and was on the eve of departure, he died suddenly. Considering the place, no one thought his death natural. Each man of the Horde knew well from observation that whoever came there depended on fate for salvation. There were so many Khans and Khan’s wives and they had so many relatives that it was hard to please all, nay, impossible. No man could answer this question: “Have I succeeded?” No man could discover the springs through which decisions were made and brought to fulfilment.
It was noised about in the Horde that Yaroslav had been poisoned. Some thought that the Mongols did not like his strong influence at home, and would not let him go back to Vladimir; others said that his own relatives had calumniated the Grand Prince to Batu, and Batu had written about him to Kuyuk, that stern-faced and marvelous Mongol, of whom it was said by his intimates that no man had ever seen a smile on his face, or heard a jest from his lips. This Grand Khan had been gracious to Yaroslav, but it was whispered most cautiously that Kuyuk’s mother, Turákina, had given Yaroslav a cup of honor with her own hands at parting, and poisoned him. His faithful boyars brought back his body and buried it at the side of his brother, and of Big Nest, his father.
Yaroslav was not distinguished for civil, or military exploits. He was not renowned for one of the great deeds [[264]]in history, but his name became memorable and is honored to this day in Russia. In him men saw the first prince who, insulted by pagans, bowed with humility before a Heaven-sent misfortune, and who did not fall into despair through empty pride, or through personal haughtiness. They saw in him not a conquering prince, but a man who with suffering and grief bowed down and beat the earth with his forehead before the savage Mongol, in order to save Russian people. His image was fixed in the national mind as the image of one who had suffered for Russia, as a prince whose lot it was not to magnify himself, but to endure insults for the sake of those under him. In the popular mind, he was the first of those men who humbled themselves to save others.
At that time all Russians looked on Mongol subjection as a terrible misfortune, as something that could not be avoided in any way. It seemed at first to be the fate of the country. Nothing bright or gladsome could be seen ahead for ages, no light of salvation, even in the distance. Captivity, the yoke, the Mongols, such was the cruel period which began when Yaroslav had reached advanced manhood. In addition, they gave this as praise to him, that he had inspired in his children, especially in Alexander, the same kind of fortitude in suffering, and had left as a testament to that son to seek salvation for the people through devotion. This thankful memory of the prince, who had given the first notable example of humility and firmness in misfortune, lived in his descendants for generations.
When the great-grandsons of Yaroslav had lived at last to the hope that God would free the Russians, they honored more than their fathers had the memory of their great-grandfather, the sufferer who had died in Mongolia, who had in his day, with much weariness, warded off ruin from Russia.
In the terrible time of Russia’s captivity under Batu, Yaroslav’s son, Alexander, the favorite son of Feodosia, daughter of Mystislav the Gallant, appeared next as the savior of Russia. He had before his father’s death become celebrated for discretion, for magnificent valor, for victories and for kindness even to enemies. He was unbending and severe only to crime and disobedience. One of the most noted knights of the West, who was sent by the Livonian Order to confer with Alexander, said on his return: “I [[265]]have traveled many lands, and seen many sovereigns, but such a man I have not met thus far.” Batu in his old age at the Golden Horde, said, after he had received Alexander Nevski: “The truth has been told me; there is not another prince like Alexander.”
Nevski was never defeated in battle, and never made any man his enemy. But this was the wonderful trait in him; neither among princes nor other men was any his equal in humility. The Mongol yoke was a terrible test of submissiveness and endurance. When the Mongols had strengthened themselves, and had become firmly established, the yoke became the more difficult to carry. The people believed that it had been inflicted by Providence, and looked on it as a punishment for the injustice of many generations, but no man understood this belief of theirs so well, and felt the consciousness of Russia, as did Alexander Nevski. The younger princes were too inexperienced, too proud to comprehend the position, and bend to it. The strongest of these, Daniel of Galitch, blushed for shame at being tributary to the Mongols, and instead of meeting them with humility, took measures which were useless and vain, measures which ended in nothing. Alexander’s career as a prince began in his childhood. In 1228 he was first made prince in Novgorod at eight years of age, when his father was disputing with Michael of Chernigoff. Later on he was prince in Novgorod a second time, when his father returned to the ruins of Vladimir. By being in Novgorod, Alexander was undoubtedly saved from the sword of the Mongol.
In 1238, when eighteen years old, Alexander married a Polovtsi princess. From the wedding feast he was forced to go to the banks of the Sheloni, where there were many and bloody attacks of the Chuds, urged on by the Germans of Riga, and led by them, aided also by Lithuanians at the direct and indirect instance of the Knights of Livonia. These attacks became more and more threatening, and at last were insufferable. Alexander defeated those invaders, but at this time new enemies showed themselves,—the Swedes, who strove to rouse the more eastern tributaries of Novgorod, and to fix their power in the Chud regions, where St. Petersburg now stands.
The Mongol yoke, in addition to other evils, roused all the enemies of Russia to greater activity. The Livonian Knights put aside every ceremony, and their haughtiness went beyond bounds. [[266]]They seized for all time, as they thought, the lands named by them Esthonia, and threatened to take Pskoff and even Novgorod. The Pope demanded from Waldemar of Denmark, the destroyer of Wends, and from the Swedes, too, a campaign against the “faithless Ruthenians.” He demanded the subjection of Russian lands bordering on Sweden, so that all might be brought to the one true religion.
In 1240, when the Mongols were marching on Kief, Swedish ships entered the Neva and closed the old Russian way to the Baltic. The Chud tribe, Ijora, long subject to Novgorod, was defenseless; the Swedes claimed the whole country. The Swedish king’s son-in-law, Birger, sent this message to Alexander: “If thou hast courage, come hither; I have taken thy land and am occupying it.”