[1380 A.D.]
Russia now began to feel that there were three things which were indispensably necessary to her; the establishment of the direct succession, the concentration of the supreme power, and the union of all parties against the Tatars. The movement in this direction was taken very opportunely; for it happened simultaneously that the Mongolian chief, Mamai, was also disembarrassed of his civil wars (1380), and he hastened with all his forces into Russia to re-establish his slighted authority; but he found the grand prince Dmitri confronting him on the Don, at the head of the combined Russian princes and an army of two hundred thousand[21] men. Dmitri put it to the choice of his troops whether they would go to encounter the foe, who were encamped at no great distance on the opposite shore of the river, or remain on this side and wait the attack? With one voice they declared for going over to the assault. The grand prince immediately transported his battalions across the river, and then turned the vessels adrift, in order to cut off all hopes of escaping by retreat, and inspire his men with a more desperate valour against an enemy who was three times stronger in numbers. The fight began. The Russians defended themselves valiantly against the furious attacks of the Tatars; the hosts of combatants pressed in such numbers to the field of battle, that multitudes of them were trampled under foot by the tumult of men and horses. The Tatars, continually relieved by fresh bodies of soldiers as any part was fatigued by the conflict, seemed at length to have victory on their side. Nothing but the impossibility of getting over the river, and the firm persuasion that death would directly transport them from the hands of the infidel enemy into the mansions of bliss, restrained the Russians from a general flight. But all at once, at the very moment when everything seemed to be lost, a detachment of the grand prince’s army, which he had stationed as a reserve, and which till now had remained inactive and unobserved, came up in full force, fell upon the rear of the Tatars, and threw them into such amazement and terror that they fled, and left the Russians masters of the field. This momentous victory, however, cost them dear; thousands lay dead upon the ground, and the whole army was occupied eight days in burying the bodies of the dead Russians: those of the Tatars were left uninterred upon the ground. It was in harmony of this achievement that Dmitri received his honourable surname of Donskoi.[g]
Significance of Battle of Kulikovo
The chronicles say that such a battle as that of Kulikovo had never before been known in Russia; even Europe had not seen the like of it for a long time. Such bloody conflicts had taken place in the western half of Europe at the beginning of the so-called Middle Ages, at the time of the great migration of nations, in those terrible collisions between European and Asiatic armies; such was the battle of Châlons-sur-Marne, when the Roman general saved western Europe from the Huns; such too was the battle of Tours, where the Frankish leader saved western Europe from the Arabs (Saracens). Western Europe was saved from the Asiatics, but her eastern half remained long open to their attacks. Here, about the middle of the ninth century, was formed an empire which should have served Europe as a bulwark against Asia; in the thirteenth century this bulwark was seemingly destroyed, but the foundations of the European empire were saved in the distant northwest; thanks to the preservation of these foundations, in a hundred and fifty years the empire succeeded in becoming unified, consolidated—and the victory of Kulikovo served as a proof of its strength. It was an omen of the triumph of Europe over Asia, and has exactly the same signification in the history of eastern Europe as the victories of Châlons and Tours have in that of western Europe. It also bears a like character with them—that of a terrible, bloody slaughter, a desperate struggle between Europe and Asia, which was to decide the great question in the history of humanity: which of these two parts of the world was to triumph over the other.
But the victory of Kulikovo was one of those victories which closely border upon grievous defeats. When, says the tradition, the grand prince ordered a count to be made of those who were left alive after the battle, the boyar Michael Aleksandrovitch reported to him that there remained in all forty thousand men, while more than four hundred thousand had been in action. And although the historian is not obliged to accept the latter statement literally, yet the ratio here given between the living and the dead is of great importance to him. Four princes, thirteen boyars, and a monk of the monastery of Troitsa, were among the slain. It is for this reason that in the embellished narratives of the defeat of Mamai we see the event represented on one hand as a great triumph and on the other as a woeful and lamentable event. There was great joy in Russia, says the chronicler, but there was also great grief over those slain by Mamai at the Don; the land of Russia was bereft of all voyevods (captains) and men and all kinds of warriors, and therefore there was a great fear throughout all the land of Russia. It was this depopulation through loss of men that gave the Tatars a short-lived triumph over the victors of Kulikovo.[e]
THE DESTRUCTION OF MOSCOW (1382 A.D.)
[1382 A.D.]
The immediate and inevitable consequence of the battle was a sensible reduction of the Russian army. The numbers that fell before the Tatars could not be easily or speedily supplied: nor were the means of a fresh levy accessible. Those districts from which the grand army was ordinarily recruited had already exhausted their population; all the remote principalities had contributed in nearly equal proportion, and the majority of the rest of the empire was composed of persons who were unaccustomed to the use of arms, having been exclusively occupied in tillage or commerce. These circumstances, which did not damp the joy of the victory, or diminish its real importance, presented to the implacable foe a new temptation for crossing the border. But it was not until two of the wandering hordes had formed a junction that the Tatars were able to undertake the enterprise. The preparations for it occupied them two years. In 1382, the hordes of the Don and the Volga united, and making a descent upon the frontier provinces with success, penetrated as far as Moscow. The city had been previously fortified by the boyars with strong ramparts and iron gates; and Dmitri, trusting with confidence to the invincibility of the fortifications, left the capital in the charge of one of his generals, while he imprudently went into the interior to recruit his army. His absence in the hour of danger spread consternation amongst the peaceable part of the inhabitants, particularly the clergy, who relied upon his energies on the most trying occasions. The metropolitan, accompanied by a great number of the citizens, left the city upon the approach of the Tatars. The small garrison that remained made an ineffectual show on the ramparts, and the Tatars, who might not otherwise have gained their object, prevailed upon the timidity of the Russians, who consented to capitulate upon a promise of pardon. The Tatars observed their pledge in this instance as they had done in every similar case—by availing themselves of the first opportunity to violate it. They no sooner entered Moscow than they gave it to the flames, and massacred every living person they met in the streets. Having glutted their revenge with a terrible scene of slaughter and conflagration, they returned home, satisfied with having reduced the grand princedom once more, after their own fashion, to subjection. They did not perceive that in this exercise of brutal rage they strengthened the moral power of Russia, by giving an increased motive to co-operation, and by rendering the abhorrence of their yoke still more bitter than before. All they desired was the physical and visible evidence of superiority; either not heeding, or not comprehending, the silent and unseen progress of that strength which combined opinion acquires under the pressure of blind tyranny.
Dmitri, thus reduced to submission, was compelled once more to perform the humiliating penance of begging his dignity at the hands of the khan. Empire had just been within his grasp; he had bound up the shattered parts of the great mass; he had effected a union of sentiment, and a bond of co-operation; but in the effort to establish this desirable end, he had exhausted the means by which alone it could be perpetuated. Had the Tatars suffered a short period more to have elapsed before they resumed the work of spoliation, it is not improbable but that a sufficient force could have been raised to repel them: but they appeared in considerable numbers, animated by the wildest passions, at a time when Dmitri was unable to make head against their approach. The result was unavoidable; and the grand prince, in suing to be reinstated on the throne from which he was virtually expelled, merely acquiesced in a necessity which he could not avert.
But the destruction of Moscow had no effect upon the great principle that was now in course of development all over the empire. The grand princedom was still the centre of all the Russian operations: the grand prince was still the acknowledged authority to which all the subordinate rulers deferred. While this paramount virtue of cohesion remained unimpaired, the incursions of the Tatars, however calamitous in their passing visitations, had no other influence upon the ultimate destiny of the country than that of stimulating the latent patriotism of the population, and of convincing the petty princes, if indeed any further evidence were wanted, of the disastrous impolicy of wasting their resources in private feuds.