Chapter VII: Epilogue (2)

There befell a hapless hour, O brothers! Already had the wilderness covered Russia’s hosts, when Mischief arose in the hosts of Dazhbóg’s grandchildren: she walked as a maiden in Troyán’s land,[57] splashed her swan pinions in the blue sea,[58] and splashing them in the Don, recalled heavy times.

Through the feuds of the princes ruin came from the pagans, for brother spoke to brother: “This is mine and that is mine also,” and the princes said of trifling matters, “They are important,” and created discord among themselves; and the pagans came from all sides victorious into the Russian land.

Oh, far has the falcon[59] flown, driving the birds by the sea, but Ígor’s brave army will rise no more! Konchák called, and Gza raced over the Russian land, hurling fire from a flaming horn.[60] Russian women wept, saying: “No longer will our thoughts reach our dear ones, nor shall we ever see them with our eyes, nor be adorned with tinkling gold and silver!”

And Kíev groaned under its sorrow, and Chernígov on account of its misfortunes. Sadness spread over the Russian land, and a heavy gloom. The princes fostered discord among themselves, and the pagans victoriously overran the country, receiving tribute, a squirrel[61] from each house.

It is Ígor and Vsévolod, Svyatosláv’s brave sons, who through their discord had wakened dishonour which their father, Svyatosláv[62] of Kíev, the great, the mighty, had put to sleep: he had invaded the Pólovts land and had carried terror to them, with his mighty armies and tempered swords; had levelled their hills and ravines, ruffled their rivers and lakes, dried up their streams and swamps; and, like a whirlwind, had snatched pagan Kobyák[63] away from his mighty, steel-clad Pólovts army by the Ázov Sea, until Kobyák fell in Kíev city, in the council-room of Svyatosláv. Germans, Venetians, Greeks and Moravians sing the glory of Svyatosláv, but blame Prince Ígor who had merged his wealth in the Kayála, the Pólovts river, and had filled it with Russian gold. Here Ígor was unseated from his golden saddle and placed upon the saddle of a slave.

IX

The city walls were silent, and merriment was dead. Svyatosláv saw a troubled dream: “In Kíev on the mount you enveloped me last night,” he said, “in a black shroud on a bed of yew; they poured out to me blue wine mixed with bitterness; from empty quivers they showered large gems upon my lap, and tried to comfort me. Already are there boards without a cross beam in my hall of gold, and all night have the devilish crows been cawing.”[64] ...

The boyárs spoke to the Prince: “Prince, sorrow has enthralled your mind. Two falcons flew from their paternal throne of gold to find the city of Tmútorokan, and anxious to drink from the Don with their helmets. The falcons’ wings have been clipped by the pagan swords, and they have been enmeshed in iron fetters. On the third day it was dark: two suns were dimmed,[65] two red torches went out, and with them two young moons, Olég[66] and Svyatosláv, were shrouded in darkness. On Kayála river darkness veiled the day: the Pólovtses had invaded the Russian land, like a litter of lynxes.... Fair Gothic[67] maidens sing upon the shore of the blue sea, tinkling with the Russian gold: they sing the times of Bus, recall Sharokán’s[68] revenge. But we, your druzhína, are anxious for the feast.”

Then great Svyatosláv uttered golden words, mingled with tears: “Oh, my nephews, Ígor and Vsévolod! Too early did you begin to strike the land of the Pólovtses with your swords, and to seek glory for yourselves. You were vanquished ingloriously, for ingloriously have you spilled the blood of the pagans! Your brave hearts are forged with hard steel and tempered in daring exploits. See what you have done with my silvery hair! I no longer see with me my mighty, warlike brother Izyasláv with his Chernígov druzhína.... They overwhelmed their enemies with dirks, not bearing bucklers, but raising a warcry and resounding the glory of their forefathers. But you spoke: ‘We alone will vanquish! Let us ourselves gain the future glory, and share the glory of our fathers!’ Why should not an old man feel young again? When the falcon is moulting, he drives the birds far away, and allows not his nest to be hurt. But alas, the princes will not aid me! My years have turned to nothing. At Rim[69] they cry under the swords of the Pólovtses, and Vladímir[70] groans under his wounds. Bitterness and sorrow has befallen the son of Glyeb!”

X

Grand Prince Vsévolod![71] Fly from afar not only in thought, but come to protect your paternal throne: for you could dry up the Vólga[72] with your oars, and empty the Don with your helmets. If you were here, a Pólovts slave-girl would be worth a dime, and a man-slave--half a rouble.[73] And you know, together with the brave sons of Glyeb, how to hurl the Greek fire on land.

You, Grim Aurochs Rúrik and David![74] Did not your golden helmets swim in blood? Did not your valiant druzhína bellow like aurochses, when they were wounded by tempered swords in a strange field? Put your feet, O lords, into your golden stirrups to avenge the insult to the Russian land, the wounds of Ígor, the valiant son of Svyatosláv!

Yarosláv Osmomýsl of Gálich![75] You sit high upon your throne wrought of gold, propping with your iron-clad army the Carpathian mountains, barring the king’s path, closing the gates of the Danube, hurling missiles higher than the clouds, sitting in judgment as far as the Danube. Your thunders pass over the land, and you hold the key to the gates of Kíev; sitting on your paternal throne, you slay the sultans in their lands. Slay, O lord, Konchák, the pagan villain, to avenge the Russian land, the wounds of Ígor, the valiant son of Svyatosláv!

And you, valiant Román[76] and Mstisláv! A brave thought carries you into action.[77] You fly high in your onslaught, like a falcon circling in the air, about to swoop down upon the birds. You wear iron hauberks under Latin helmets, and the earth has trembled from you in many a pagan land: the Lithuanians, Yatvyágans, Deremélans and Pólovtses threw down their warclubs and bent their heads under those tempered swords. But now, O Prince, Ígor’s sun is dimmed,--the tree, alas, has shed its leaves. Along the Ros[78] and the Sulá the Pólovtses have sacked the towns, but Ígor’s brave army will rise no more. The Don calls you, O Prince, and the other princes to victory!

Olég’s sons have hastened to the war. Íngvar and Vsévolod,[79] and the three sons of Mstisláv,[80] a mighty winged brood! Not by the lot of war have you acquired power. Of what good are your golden helmets, and Polish warclubs and shields? Bar the enemy’s way with your sharp arrows, to avenge the Russian land, the wounds of Ígor, the valiant son of Svyatosláv!

XI

The Sulá no longer flows with a silvery stream by Pereyáslavl town,[81] and the Dviná flows turbid by mighty Pólotsk, agitated by the pagans. Izyasláv,[82] Vasílko’s son, alone made his sharp swords ring against the Lithuanian helmets, outstripping the glory of his grandfather Vsesláv, but himself was worsted by Lithuanian swords, and fell under crimson shields, upon the bloodstained grass. Lying on his death-bed, he spoke[83]: “O Prince, the birds have covered your druzhína with their wings, and the beasts have lapped their blood.” There was not present the brother Bryachisláv, nor the other, Vsévolod; alone he lost the pearl soul out of his valiant body through the golden necklace. The voices were subdued, merriment died away. The trumpets blare at Goródno.

Yarosláv and all grandchildren of Vsesláv![84] Furl your standards, sheath your blunted swords, for you have leaped away from your grandfather’s glory! You have with your discords invited the pagan hosts against the Russian land, against the life of Vsesláv, for through your strife has come the enslavement by the Pólovts land.

In the seventh age of Troyán,[85] Vsesláv cast his lot for his beloved maiden.[86] He bestrode his horse, and galloped to the city of Kíev, and with the thrust of the spear possessed himself of golden-throned Kíev. He galloped hence as a grim beast to the south of Byélgorod,[87] and disappeared in the blue mist; next morning he clanked with the battering-ram, and opened the gates of Nóvgorod; he shattered the glory of Yarosláv,[88] and raced as a wolf to the Nemíga from Dudútki.[89]

On the Nemíga, ricks are stacked with heads, and they flail with tempered chains; the body is placed on the threshing-floor, and the soul is winnowed from the body. Not with grain were sown the bloody banks of the Nemíga, but with the bones of Russian sons.

Prince Vsesláv sat in judgment over his people, apportioned cities to the princes, but himself raced a wolf[90] in the night, and by cockcrow reached from Kíev to Tmútorokan, and as a wolf crossed the path of great Khors.[91] When they rang the bell in the church of St. Sophia for matins, early in the morning at Pólotsk, he heard the ringing in Kíev. Though his cunning soul could pass into another body, yet he often suffered woe. Thus wise Boyán of old has justly said: “Neither the cunning, nor the agile, nor the swift bird can escape the judgment of the Lord!”

Oh, the Russian land must groan as it recalls the former days and the ancient princes! It was not possible to nail Vladímir to the hills of Kíev[92]: now there are standards of Rúrik, and others of David....[93]

XII

Yaroslávna’s[94] voice is heard; like a cuckoo in a lonely spot she calls plaintively in the morning: “I will fly,” she says, “like a cuckoo along the Danube,[95] will wet my beaver sleeve in the river Kayála, will wipe off the Prince’s bloody wounds on his manly body!”

Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying: “O wind, mighty wind! Why, master, do you blow so strong? Why do you on your light wings carry the Khan’s arrows against the warriors of my beloved one? Is it not enough for you to blow on high below the clouds, rocking the ships on the blue sea? Why, master, have you dispersed my happiness over the grass of the steppe?”

Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying: “O famous Dnieper, you have pierced the rocky mountains across the country of the Pólovtses! You have rocked on your waves the boats of Svyatosláv as far as the army of Kobák.[96] Fondly bring to me, master, my sweetheart, that I may not in the morning send tears after him out to sea.”

Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying: “Bright, three times bright sun, you give warmth and joy to all! Why, master, have you thrust your burning beams on the warriors of my beloved one? Why have you in the waterless plain dried up their bows, and sealed their quivers in sorrow?”

XIII

The sea is agitated at midnight: mists are borne in the darkness. God shows to Ígor a way out of the land of the Pólovtses into the country of Russia to his father’s golden throne. The evening twilight has gone out. Ígor sleeps; Ígor is awake: Ígor in his thought measures the plains from the great Don to the small Donéts. His steed is ready at midnight. Ovlúr whistles beyond the river, gives a sign to the Prince,--Prince Ígor will be no more!

The earth resounded, the grass rustled, the Pólovts’ tents trembled. But Ígor raced like an ermine in the reeds, like a white duck over the water; he jumped on a swift steed, dismounted as a light-footed wolf, and hastened to the plain of the Donéts; and as a falcon flew through the mist, killing geese and swans for his breakfast and dinner and supper. When Ígor flew as a falcon, Ovlúr raced as a wolf, shaking off the cold dew, for they had worn out their swift steeds.

The Donéts spoke: “Prince Ígor, great is your honour, and the grief to Konchák, and joy to the Russian land!”

Ígor spoke: “O Donéts, great is your honour, having rocked the Prince on your wave, having spread out for him the green grass on your silver banks, having cloaked him with warm mists under green trees. You have guarded him as a duck on the water, as a gull on the waves, as a mallard in the air. Not thus the river Stúgna[97]: though having a scanty stream, it has swallowed other brooks, and has spread the floods over the bushes. To the young Prince Rostisláv the Dnieper has closed its dark banks. Rostisláv’s mother weeps for the young Prince. The flowers faded in their sorrow, and the trees bent in anguish to the ground.”

It is not magpies that are in a flutter: Gza and Konchák ride in Ígor’s track. Then the raven did not croak, the jackdaws were silent, the magpies did not chatter, only leaped from branch to branch. The woodpeckers indicated the road to the river by their pecking; the nightingales announced the day by their merry song.

Said Gza to Konchák: “Since the falcon is flying to his nest, let us shoot the fledgling[98] with our golden darts.”

Said Konchák to Gza: “Since the falcon is flying to his nest, let us enmesh the fledgling with a fair maiden!”

And Gza spoke to Konchák: “If we enmesh him with a fair maiden, we shall have neither the young falcon, nor the fair maiden, and the birds will attack us in the Pólovts plain.”

XIV

Boyán has said: “Hard it is for you, O head, to be without your shoulders; ill it is for you, O body, to be without a head.” Even so is the Russian land without Ígor.

The sun shines in the heaven,--Prince Ígor in the land of Russia! Maidens sing at the Danube: their voices are carried over the sea to Kíev. Ígor rides over the Boríchev,[99] to the church of the Holy Virgin of Pirogóshch. The country is happy, the towns rejoice; they sing songs to the elder princes, and then to the younger. Let us sing the glory of Ígor Svyatoslávich, of Grim Aurochs Vsévolod, Vladímir Ígorevich! Hail, princes and druzhína, who battle for the Christians against the pagan host! Glory to the princes and the druzhína! Amen!

FOOTNOTES:

[23] Ígor was the son of Svyatosláv Ólgovich of Nóvgorod Syéverski, and grandson of Olég of Tmútorokan.

[24] From the references to the princes whose praise he sang, it is evident that he lived at the end of the eleventh and the beginning of the twelfth centuries. Nothing else is known of this famous poet.

[25] Yarosláv, the son of Vladímir, lived from 1019-1054: he was the author of the Russian Code (see p. 45).

[26] Mstisláv, Prince of Tmútorokan, was the brother of Yarosláv († 1036). In 1022 he killed in duel the giant Redédya, chief of the Kasógs who dwelt between the Black and Caspian seas, and conquered their country.

[27] Román was a brother of Ígor’s grandfather Olég; he was killed by the Pólovtses in 1079.

[28] Vladímir the Great, father of Yarosláv.

[29] A Turkish tribe, related to the Pechenyégs, who called themselves Cumanians. They occupied the south of Russia as far as Hungary.

[30] See account of the eclipse in the Chronicle (p. 72).

[31] Troyán is counted among the ancient Russian divinities in _The Holy Virgin’s Descent into Hell_ (p. 97); but evidently he is also a reminiscence of the Roman Emperor Trajan, whose ramparts and roads are still to be traced along the Danube.

[32] The god of the flocks, _i. e._, of wealth and abundance. It is not quite clear why the poet is called his grandson.

[33] Tributary of the Dnieper.

[34] Nóvgorod Syéverski, Ígor’s capital, in the Government of Chernígov.

[35] The appanage of Ígor’s son Vladímir, in the Government of Kursk.

[36] A bird of ill-omen; according to some, divinity of darkness.

[37] The border of the Black Sea.

[38] The Ázov Sea.

[39] The ancient Tauric Chersonese, near the modern Sebastopol.

[40] An ancient city of the Khazars, on the eastern shore of the Ázov Sea, on the peninsula of Tamán. It became a Russian possession in the tenth century.

[41] A frequently recurring sentence, the meaning of which seems to be: You are lost beyond redemption!

[42] The trophies won by Ígor.

[43] Gza and Konchák, khans of the Pólovtses, were the leaders of the expedition. See p. 77.

[44] The four suns are: Ígor, his brother Vsévolod, his son Vladímir of Putívl, and his nephew Svyatosláv Ólgovich of Rylsk.

[45] Tributary of the Don.

[46] God of the winds.

[47] Descendants of the Avars still live between Georgia and Circassia.

[48] Her name was Ólga.

[49] Olég is the grandfather of Ígor. The poet here recalls former encounters with the Pólovtses. Not having been able to agree with his uncles, Izyasláv who had occupied the throne in Kíev, and Vsévolod who had his appanage of Chernígov, Olég escaped to Román the Fair of Tmútorokan, and decided to get his rights by means of arms. He led three times the Pólovtses into Russia (in 1078, 1079 and 1094).

[50] That is, in the other world.

[51] Vladímir Monomákh hastened to his father’s aid. See his _Instruction_, p. 55.

[52] Olég and his cousin, Borís, were at that time absent from Chernígov. When they arrived and opposed themselves to the superior force of Izyasláv, Olég advised Borís to surrender; but he would not listen and made an attack upon his uncle’s army and was killed.

[53] Olég is called the son of “Góre,” _i. e._, woe.

[54] The Russians are sons of Dazhbóg, the god of the sun, while the enemy are the “devil’s children.”

[55] The first day the Russians defeated the Pólovtses; the next, the Pólovtses defeated the Russians; on the third day, which was a Sunday, the Kovúans ran away, and at noon Ígor was made prisoner. See the Chronicle, p. 74.

[56] Nature sympathises with the Russians.

[57] That is, far away; see note 5, p. 82.

[58] The Sea of Ázov.

[59] That is, Ígor; the Pólovtses are the birds.

[60] The Chronicle says the Pólovtses hurled the Greek fire.

[61] A silver coin.

[62] This Svyatosláv, the son of Vsévolod Ólgovich, had been the Prince of Chernígov. He was Grand Prince of Kíev from 1174-1194. He had to give up his throne twice, but in 1181 ascended it for the third time. He is called Ígor’s and Vsévolod’s father by seniority, though he was only their uncle by relationship.

[63] The Russians obtained a famous victory over the Pólovtses, of whom 7000 were taken prisoners, in 1184.

[64] A series of evil omens.

[65] Ígor and Vsévolod.

[66] Probably the son of Ígor; but he was only eleven years old during the expedition.

[67] Descendants of the Goths who had settled along the Black Sea had been found and described as late as the sixteenth and even seventeenth centuries in the Crimea and in the Tamán peninsula.

[68] These Gothic girls evidently sang the exploits of Pólovts princes. Sharokán had made an incursion into Russia in 1107, but he was defeated and had to flee. In 1111 Sharokán returned with an immense army to avenge his defeat.

[69] Now Rómen, in the Government of Poltáva.

[70] Vladímir of Pereyáslavl. See the Chronicle, p. 78.

[71] Vsévolod Yúrevich, Prince of Súzdal, whose father, Yúri Dolgorúki, had been Grand Prince at Kíev.

[72] In 1183 Vsévolod made an expedition against the Bulgarians of the Vólga; he went down the Vólga as far as Kazán, and then proceeded on foot.

[73] That is, if Vsévolod were there, he would be so victorious against the Pólovtses as to lower the price of Pólovts slaves.

[74] The sons of Rostisláv Mstislávich, and great-grandchildren of Vladímir Monomákh.

[75] Yarosláv Osmomýsl († 1187) was the Prince of Gálich, which in his days extended as far as the Prut and the Danube and included part of Moldavia. His daughter was Ígor’s wife.

[76] Román Mstislávich († 1205), Prince of Volhynia, twice occupied the throne in Gálich. He fought successfully against the Lithuanians and Yatvyágans, and when he was Prince of Gálich he saved Constantinople from the impending danger of a Pólovts and Pechenyég invasion. The Chronicle says of him: “He rushed against the pagans like a lion, raged like a lynx, and destroyed them like a crocodile, and crossed their lands like an eagle, for he was as brave as an aurochs,” and “The Pólovtses used to frighten their children with his name.”

[77] Mstisláv was probably the brother of Íngvar and Vsévolod, mentioned below.

[78] Tributary of the Dnieper.

[79] The sons of Yarosláv Izyaslávich, Prince of Lutsk, who was Grand Prince of Kíev in 1173.

[80] Román, Svyatosláv and Vsévolod, sons of Mstisláv, great-grandchildren of Vladímir Monomákh.

[81] The Pólovtses divided among themselves the towns along the Sulá. See the Chronicle, p. 77.

[82] Izyasláv’s appanage was Goródno, in the Government of Minsk, hence farther down “The trumpets blare at Goródno.”

[83] Izyasláv addresses himself.

[84] These are opposed to the brave Izyasláv, who is also a descendant of Vsesláv. Vsesláv Bryachislávich, Prince of Pólotsk, was, in 1064, defeated by Izyasláv and his brothers on the Nemíga; later he was enticed by Izyasláv to Kíev, where he was imprisoned. In 1067 Izyasláv was driven out by the Kíevans, and Vsesláv was made Grand Prince. Izyasláv attacked Vsesláv at Byélgorod, but the latter fled to Pólotsk.

[85] The exact meaning of the “seventh age of Troyán” is not known; some distant time is designated.

[86] That is, for Kíev.

[87] Ten versts from Kíev.

[88] Tributary of the Svísloch, in the Government of Minsk.

[89] Near Nóvgorod.

[90] The chronicles and popular tradition make Vsesláv a werewolf and a sorcerer.

[91] Another name for Dazhbóg, the god of the sun.

[92] That is, for ever to retain Vladímir in Kíev.

[93] Now there is discord.

[94] Evfrosíniya (Euphrosyne), daughter of Yarosláv Osmomýsl of Gálich, Ígor’s second wife.

[95] A standing formula for rivers in general, here the Kayála.

[96] Expedition of 1184.

[97] A swampy river in the Government of Kíev. Rostisláv Vsévolodovich, the son of Vsévolod and Anna, the daughter of a Pólovts Khan, and the brother of Vladímir Monomákh. After an unsuccessful attack upon the Pólovtses, he escaped from captivity by jumping into the Stúgna, but being in heavy armour he was drowned.

[98] Vladímir, the son of Ígor, who was also taken captive. He really married Konchák’s daughter and returned with her to Kíev in 1187.

The Holy Virgin’s Descent into Hell. (XII. century.)

In spite of the prohibition of the Church, apocryphal literature reached Russia from Byzantium by way of Bulgaria, and not only spread all over Russia as a possession of the people, but even crept into ecclesiastical literature, serving frequently the same purpose as the writings of the Church Fathers. These apocryphal productions, of which there is a very large number, held sway over the people from the twelfth to the seventeenth century, and even now form the background of many popular tales and songs, especially of those of the “wandering people” and beggars. One of the most beautiful stories of this kind is _The Holy Virgin’s Descent into Hell_, the Russian manuscript of which goes back to the twelfth century. Similar stories were also current in Italy, where there were colonies of Bulgarian Manicheans, who were most active in disseminating them. Dante was, no doubt, acquainted with them when he wrote his _Divine Comedy_.

The Holy Virgin wished to see the torments of the souls, and She spoke to Michael, the archistrategos: “Tell me all things that are upon earth!” And Michael said to Her: “As you say, Blessed One: I shall tell you all things.” And the Holy Virgin said to him: “How many torments are there, that the Christian race is suffering?” And the archistrategos said to Her: “Uncountable are the torments!” And the Blessed One spoke to him: “Show me, in heaven and upon earth!”

Then the archistrategos ordered the angels to come from the south, and Hell was opened. And She saw those that were suffering in Hell, and there was a great number of men and women, and there was much weeping. And the Blessed One asked the archistrategos: “Who are these?” And the archistrategos said: “These are they who did not believe in the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, but forgot God and believed in things which God has created for our sakes; they called everything God: the sun and the moon, the earth and water, beasts and reptiles. They changed Troyán, Khors, Velés, Perún[100] to gods, and believed in evil spirits. They are even now held in evil darkness, therefore they suffer such torments.”

And She saw in another place a great darkness. Said the Holy Lady: “What is this darkness, and who are those who dwell therein?” Spoke the archistrategos: “Many souls dwell in this place.” Spoke the Holy Virgin: “Let the darkness be dispersed that I may see the torment.” And the angels who watched over the torment answered: “We have been enjoined not to let them see light until the coming of your blessed Son who is brighter than seven suns.” And the Holy Virgin was saddened, and She raised Her eyes to the angels and looked at the invisible throne of Her Father and spoke: “In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost! Let the darkness be taken off that I may see this torment.”

And the darkness was lifted, and seven heavens were seen, and there dwelt there a great multitude of men and women, and there was loud weeping and a mighty noise. When the Holy Virgin saw them, She spoke to them, weeping tears: “What have you done, wretched and unworthy people, and what has brought you here?” There was no voice, nor an answer from them. And the watching angels spoke: “Wherefore do you not speak?” And the tormented said: “Blessed One! We have not seen light for a long time, and we cannot look up.” The Holy Virgin looking at them wept bitterly. And the tormented, seeing Her, said: “How is it, Holy Virgin, you have visited us? Your blessed Son came upon earth and did not ask for us, nor Abraham the patriarch, nor Moses the prophet, nor John the Baptist, nor Paul the apostle, the Lord’s favourite. But you, Holy Virgin and intercessor, you are a protection for the Christian people.”... Then spoke the Holy Virgin to Michael the archistrategos: “What is their sin?” And Michael said: “These are they who did not believe in the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, nor in you, Holy Virgin! They did not want to proclaim your name, nor that from you was born our Lord Jesus Christ who, having come in the flesh, has sanctified the earth through baptism: it is for this that they are tormented here.” Weeping again, the Holy Virgin spoke to them: “Wherefore do you live in error? Do you not know that all creation honours my name?” When the Holy Virgin said this, darkness fell again upon them.

The archistrategos spoke to Her: “Whither, Blessed One, do you want to go now? To the south, or to the north?” The Blessed One spoke: “Let us go out to the south!” And there came the cherubim and the seraphim and four hundred angels, and took the Holy Virgin to the south where there was a river of fire. There was a multitude of men and women there, and they stood in the river, some to their waists, some to their shoulders, some to their necks and some above their heads. Seeing this, the Holy Virgin wept aloud and asked the archistrategos: “Who are they that are immerged up to their waists in the fire?” And the archistrategos said to Her: “They are those who have been cursed by their fathers and mothers,--for this the cursed ones suffer torment here.” And the Holy Virgin said: “And those who are in the fiery flame up to their necks, who are they?” The angel said to Her: “They are those who have eaten human flesh,--for this they are tormented here.” And the Holy One said: “Those who are immerged in the fiery flame above their heads, who are they?” And the archistrategos spoke: “Those are they, Lady, who holding the cross have sworn falsely.”... The Holy One spoke to the archistrategos: “I beg you this one thing, let me also enter, that I may suffer together with the Christians, for they have called themselves the children of my Son.” And the archistrategos said: “Rest yourself in paradise!” And the Holy One said: “I beg you, move the hosts of the seven heavens and all the host of the angels that we may pray for the sinners, and God may accept our prayer and have mercy upon them. I beg you, order the angelic host to carry me to the heavenly height and to take me before the invisible Father!”

The archistrategos so ordered, and there appeared the cherubim and seraphim and carried the Blessed One to the heavenly height, and put Her down at the throne of the invisible Father. She raised Her hands to Her blessed Son and said: “Have mercy, O Master, upon the sinners, for I have seen them, and I could not endure: let me be tormented together with the Christians!” And there came a voice to Her and said: “How can I have mercy upon them? I see the nails in my Son’s hands.” And She said: “Master! I do not pray for the infidel Jews, but for the Christians I ask Thy forgiveness!” And a voice came to Her: “I see how they have had no mercy upon my children, so I can have no mercy upon them.”

Spoke again the Holy One: “Have mercy, O Master, upon the sinners,--the creation of Thine own hands, who proclaim Thy name over the whole earth and even in their torments, and who in all places say: “Most Holy Lady, Mother of God, aid us!” Then the Lord spoke to Her: “Hear, Holy Mother of God! There is not a man who does not praise Thy name. I will not abandon them, neither in heaven, nor upon earth.” And the Holy Virgin said: “Where is Moses, the prophet? Where are all the prophets? And you, fathers, who have never committed a sin? Where is Paul, God’s favourite? Where is the Sunday, the pride of the Christian? And where is the power of the worshipful cross through which Adam and Eve were delivered from their curse?” Then Michael the archistrategos and all the angels spoke: “Have mercy, O Master, upon the sinners!” And Moses wept loud and said: “Have mercy upon them, O Lord! For I have given them Thy Law!” And John wept and said: “Have mercy, O Master! I preached Thy gospel to them.” And Paul wept and said: “Have mercy, O Master! For I carried Thine epistles to the churches.”

And those that were in the darkness heard of this, and they all wept with one voice and said: “Have mercy upon us, Son of God! Have mercy upon us, King of all eternity!” And the Master said: “Hear all! I have planted paradise, and created man according to my image, and made him lord over paradise, and gave him eternal life. But they have disobeyed me and sinned in their selfishness and delivered themselves to death.... You became Christians only in words, and did not keep my commands; for this you find yourselves now in the fire everlasting, and I ought not to have mercy upon you! But to-day, through the goodness of my Father who sent me to you, and through the intercession of my Mother who wept much for you, and through Michael, the archistrategos of the gospel, and through the multitude of my martyrs who have laboured much in your behalf, I give you from Good Thursday to the holy Pentecost, day and night, for a rest, and you praise the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost!” And they all answered: “Glory be to Thy goodness! Glory to the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, now and for ever!”

FOOTNOTES:

[99] The slope of the mountain near Kíev, where to-day is the suburb of Podól.

[100] Pagan divinities. For Troyán, see note on p. 82; Khors, the god of the sun (_cf._ note on p. 93); Velés, the god of abundance (_cf._ note on p. 83); Perún, the god of thunder (see p. 70).

Daniel the Prisoner. (XIII. century.)

For some unknown reason Daniel had been imprisoned in an island in the Lake of Lach, in the Government of Olónetsk. He seems to have belonged to the druzhína of Yarosláv Vsévolodovich of Pereyáslavl, who died in 1247 as Grand Prince of Vladímir. That is all that is known about the life of this layman, one of the few in the old period whose writing has come down to our times. The begging letter which he addressed to the Prince is composed of incorrectly quoted biblical passages and popular saws and proverbs; many of these he drew from an ancient collection, _The Bee_, in which moral subjects are arranged in chapters. In their turn, Daniel’s saws have largely entered into the composition of a very popular collection of the same kind, _The Emerald_.

LETTER TO PRINCE YAROSLÁV VSÉVOLODOVICH

We will blare forth, O brothers, on the reasoning of our mind, as on a trumpet forged of gold. We will strike the silver organs, and will proclaim our wisdom, and will strike the thoughts of our mind, playing on the God-inspired reeds, that our soul-saving thoughts might weep loud. Arise, my glory! Arise, psalter and cymbals, that I may unfold my meaning in proverbs, and that I may announce my glory in words.... Knowing, O lord, your good disposition, I take refuge in your customary kindness, for the Holy Writ says: Ask and you shall receive. David has said: There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard. Neither will we be silent, but will speak out to our master, the most gracious Yarosláv Vsévolodovich.

Prince my lord! Remember me in your reign, for I, your slave, and son of your slave, see all men warmed by your mercy as by the sun; only I alone walk in darkness, deprived of the light from your eyes, like the grass growing behind a wall, upon which neither the sun shineth nor the rain falleth. So, my lord, incline your ears to the words of my lips, and deliver me from all my sorrow.

Prince my lord! All get their fill from the abundance of your house; but I alone thirst for your mercy, like a stag for a spring of water. I was like a tree that stands in the road and that all passers-by strike;--even thus I am insulted by all, for I am not protected by the terror of your wrath, as by a firm palisade.

Prince my lord! The rich man is known everywhere, even in a strange city, while the poor man walketh unseen in his own. The rich man speaketh and all are silent, and his words are elated to the clouds; but let the poor man speak out, and all will call out to him, for the discourse of those is honoured whose garments are bright. But you, my lord, look not at my outer garb, but consider my inner thoughts, for my apparel is scanty, and I am young in years, but old in mind, and I have soared in thought like an eagle in the air.

Prince my lord! Let me behold your fair face and form. Your lips drop honey; your utterances are like paradise with its fruit; your hands are filled with gold of Tharsos; your cheeks are a vessel of spices; your throat is like a lily dropping myrrh--your mercy; your look is as the choice Lebanon; your eyes are like a well of living water; your belly is like an heap of wheat, feeding many; your head riseth above my head....

Prince my lord! Look not at me as a wolf at a lamb; but look at me as a mother at her babe. Look, O lord, at the birds of the air, that neither plough, nor sow, nor gather into granaries, but rely upon God’s kindness. Let not your hand be closed against giving alms to the needy. For it is written: Give to him who asketh of you, open to him who knocketh, that you may not forfeit the kingdom of heaven. For it is also written: Confide your sorrow to the Lord, and He will nurture you until eternity. Deprive not the needy wise man of his bread, but extol him to the clouds, like pure gold in a dirty vessel; but the silly rich man is like a silken pillow-case stuffed full of straw.

Prince my lord! Though I am not a valiant man in war, yet am I strong in words, and I cull the sweetness of words, mixing them, as sea-water in a leather bottle, and wind them and adorn them with cunning parables, and I am glib of speech and ... my lips are pleasing, like a stream of the river rapids.

Prince my lord! As an oak is strong by the multitude of its roots, thus is our city under your domination. The helmsman is the head of the vessel, and you, Prince, are the head of your people. I have seen an army without a prince;--you might say: a big beast without its head. Men are the heads of women, and princes--of men, and God--of the prince. As the pillow-case that is adorned with silk makes a pleasant appearance, even thus you, our Prince, are glorified and honoured in many lands through the multitude of your men. As the net does not hold the water, but keeps a multitude of fish, even thus you, our Prince, keep not the wealth, but distribute it among the strong, making them brave, for you will gain gold and cities through them. Hezekiah, the King of the Jews, boasted before the messengers of the King of Babylon, when he showed them the treasure of his gold. But they answered: “Our kings are richer than you, not with the treasure of gold, but with a multitude of brave and wise men.” (For men will gain gold, but gold will not gain men.) Water is the mother of the fish, and you are Prince of your people. Spring adorns the earth with flowers, and you, Prince, adorn us with your mercy. The sun alone warms with its rays, and you, Prince, adorn and revive with your mercy.

Prince my lord! I have been in great distress, and have suffered under the yoke of work: I have experienced all that is evil. Rather would I see my foot in bast shoes in your house than in crimson boots in the court of a boyár. Rather would I serve you in homespun than in purple in the court of a boyár. Improper is a golden ring in the nose of a swine, and a good garment upon a peasant. Even if a kettle were to have golden rings in its handles, its bottom would not escape blackness and burning. Even thus a peasant: let him be ever so haughty and insolent, he will not escape his blemish, the name of a peasant. Rather would I drink water in your house, than mead in the court of a boyár; rather would I receive a roasted sparrow from your hand than a shoulder of mutton from the hand of a bad master.

Often has my bread, earned by work, tasted as wormwood in my mouth, and my drink I have mingled with tears. Serving a good master, you gain your liberty in the end, but serving a bad master, you only gain an increase of your labour. Solomon has said: Better is one wise man than ten brave men without understanding; better is one clever man than ten rulers of cities. Daniel has said: A brave man, O Prince, you will easily acquire, but a wise man is dear; for the counsel of the wise is good, and their armies are strong, and their cities safe. The armies of others are strong, but without understanding, and they suffer defeat. Many, arming themselves against large cities, start out from smaller towns; as Svyatosláv, the son of Ólga, said on his way to Constantinople to his small druzhína: “We do not know, O brothers, whether the city is to be taken by us, or whether we are to perish from the city: for if God is with us, who is against us?”...

Not the sea draweth the ships, but the winds; even thus you, O Prince, fall not yourself into grieving, but counsellors lead you into it. Not the fire causeth the iron to be heated, but the blowing of the bellows. A wise man is not generally valiant in war, but strong in counsel; so it is good to gather wise men around you. It is good to pasture horses in a fertile field (and to fight for a good prince). Often armies perish through lack of order. If the armies are strongly placed, they will, though they be defeated, make a good running fight; thus Svyatopólk, who was guilty of killing his brothers, was so fortified, that Yarosláv barely overcame him at night. Similarly Bonyák the Scurfy through cunning routed the Hungarians at Gálich: when the latter fortified themselves behind ramparts, the first scattered like hunting men over the land; thus they routed the Hungarians, and badly defeated them.

Prince my lord! I have not been brought up in Athens, nor have I studied with the philosophers, but I have pored over books, like a bee over all kinds of flowers: from them have I gathered sweetness of speech, mingling wisdom with it, as sea-water in a leather bottle....

Serapión, Bishop of Vladímir. (XIII. century.)

Serapión had been abbot of the monastery of the Grottoes in Kíev, and in 1274 he was made bishop of Vladímir and Súzdal. He died in 1275. We have five of his sermons, which are distinguished for a certain simple, stern eloquence. The thirteenth century produced very few writers, and Serapión’s sermons have an additional interest because they contain references to the Tartar invasion.

A SERMON ON OMENS

The Lord’s blessing be with you!

You have heard, brothers, what the Lord Himself has said in the gospel: in the last years there will be signs in the sun, in the moon, and in the stars, and earthquakes in many places, and famine. What had been foretold by the Lord then, is now fulfilled in our days.[101] We have seen many times the sun perished, the moon darkened, and the stars disturbed, and lately we have seen with our own eyes the quaking of the earth. The earth, firm and immovable from the beginning by the order of God, is in motion to-day, trembling on account of our sins, being unable to bear our lawlessness. We did not obey the gospel, did not obey the apostles, nor the prophets, nor the great luminaries, I mean Basil and Gregory the theologues, John Chrysostom, and the other holy fathers, by whom the faith was confirmed, the heretics repelled, and God made known to all the nations. They have taught us without interruption, but we are living in lawlessness.

It is for this that God is punishing us with signs and earthquakes. He does not speak with His lips, but chastises with deeds. God has punished us with everything, but has not dispelled our evil habits: now He shakes the earth and makes it tremble: He wants to shake off our lawlessness and sins from the earth like leaves from a tree. If any should say that there have been earthquakes before, I shall not deny it. But what happened to us afterwards? Did we not have famine, and plague, and many wars? But we did not repent, until finally there came upon us a ruthless nation, at the instigation of God, and laid waste our land, and took into captivity whole cities, destroyed our holy churches, slew our fathers and brothers, violated our mothers and sisters. Now, my brothers, having experienced that, let us pray to our Lord, and make confession, lest we incur a greater wrath of the Lord, and bring down upon us a greater punishment than the first.

Much is still waiting for our repentance and for our conversion. If we turn away from corrupt and ruthless judgments, if we do away with bloody usury and all rapacity, thefts, robbery, blasphemy, lies, calumny, oaths, and denunciations, and other satanic deeds,--if we do away with all that, I know well that good things will come to us in this life and in the future life. For He Himself hath said: Turn to me, and I will turn to you. Keep away from everything, and I will withhold your punishment. When will we, at last, turn away from our sins? Let us spare ourselves and our children! At what time have we seen so many sudden deaths? Many were taken away before they could care for their houses; many lay down well in the evening and never arose again. Have fear, I pray you, of this sudden parting! If we wander in the will of the Lord, God will comfort us with many a comfort, will cherish us as His sons, will take away from us earthly sorrow, will give us a peaceful exit into the future life, where we shall enjoy gladness, and endless happiness with those who do the will of the Lord.

I have told you much, my brothers and children, but I see our punishments will not be diminished, nor changed. Many take no heed, as if they weened themselves to be immortal. I am afraid that the word of God will come to pass with them: If I had not spoken to them, they would not have sinned; but now they have no excuse for their sin. And I repeat to you, if we do not change, we shall have no excuse before the Lord. I, your sinful pastor, have done the command of God in transmitting His word to you.

FOOTNOTES:

[101] These disturbances of nature are mentioned in the Chronicle under the year 1230.

The Zadónshchina. (XIV. century.)

The _Zadónshchina_, _i. e._, The Exploits beyond the Don, has come down in two versions, and is an interesting poetical account of the battle at Kulikóvo (1380). The _Word of Ígor’s Armament_ had taken a strong hold on the author, who seems to have been a certain Sofóniya of Ryazán. Not only are there many parallels in the two poems, but whole passages are bodily taken from the older text, with corruption of some phrases, the meaning of which was not clear to the author of the _Zadónshchina_.

THE ZADÓNSHCHINA

Let us go, O brothers, into the midnight country, the lot of Japheth,[102] the son of Noah, from whom has risen the most glorious Russia; let us there ascend the Kíev mountains, and look by the smooth Dnieper over the whole Russian land, and hence to the Eastern land, the lot of Shem, the son of Noah, from whom were born the Chinese,[103] the pagan Tartars, the Mussulmans. They had defeated the race of Japheth on the river Kayála.[104] And ever since, the Russian land has been unhappy, and from the battle of the Kálka[105] up to Mamáy’s defeat it has been covered with grief and sorrow, weeping and lamenting its children. The Prince and the boyárs, and all the brave men who had left all their homes, and wealth, and wives, children, and cattle, having received honour and glory of this world, have laid down their heads for the Russian land and the Christian faith.

Let us come together, brothers and friends, sons of Russia! Let us join word to word! Let us make the Russian land merry, and cast sorrow on the eastern regions that are to the lot of Shem! Let us sing about the victory over the heathen Mamáy, and an eulogy to the Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich and his brother,[106] Prince Vladímir Andréevich!... We shall sing as things have happened, and will not race in thought, but will mention the times of the first years; we will praise the wise Boyán,[107] the famous musician in Kíev town. That wise Boyán put his golden fingers on the living strings, sang the glory of the Russian princes, to the first Prince Rúrik, Ígor Rúrikovich and Svyatosláv, Yaropólk, Vladímir Svyatoslávich, Yarosláv Vladímirovich, praising them with songs and melodious musical words.--But I shall mention Sofóniya of Ryazán, and shall praise in songs and musical words the Prince Dmítri Ivánovich and his brother, Prince Vladímir Andréevich, for their bravery and zeal was for the Russian land and the Christian faith. For this, Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich and his brother, Prince Vladímir Andréevich, sharpened their hearts in bravery, arose in their strength, and remembered their ancestor, Prince Vladímir of Kíev, the tsar of Russia.

O lark, joy of beautiful days! Fly to the blue clouds, look towards the strong city of Moscow, sing the glory of Grand Prince Dmítri Andréevich! They have risen like falcons from the Russian land against the fields of the Pólovtses. The horses neigh at the Moskvá; the drums are beaten at the Kolómna; the trumpets blare at Serpukhóv; the glory resounds over the whole Russian land. Wonderfully the standards stand at the great Don; the embroidered flags flutter in the wind; the gilded coats of mail glisten. The bells are tolled in the vyéche[108] of Nóvgorod the Great. The men of Nóvgorod stand in front of St. Sophia, and speak as follows: “We shall not get in time to the aid of Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich.” Then they flew together like eagles from the whole midnight country. They were not eagles that flew together, but posádniks[109] that went out with 7000 men from Nóvgorod the Great to Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich and to his brother Vladímir Andréevich.

All the Russian princes came to the aid of Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich, and they spoke as follows: “Lord Grand Prince! Already do the pagan Tartars encroach upon our fields, and take away our patrimony. They stand between the Don and Dnieper, on the river Mechá.[110] But we, lord, will go beyond the swift river Don, will gain glory in all the lands, will be an object of conversation for the old men, and a memory for the young.”

Thus spoke Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich to his brothers, the Russian princes: “My dear brothers, Russian princes! We are of the same descent, from Grand Prince Iván Danílovich.[111] So far we brothers have not been insulted either by falcon, or vulture, or white gerfalcon, or this dog, pagan Mamáy.”

Nightingale! If you could only sing the glory of these two brothers, Ólgerd’s sons,[112] Andréy of Pólotsk and Dmítri of Bryansk, for they were born in Lithuania on a shield of the vanguard, swaddled under trumpets, raised under helmets, fed at the point of the spear, and given drink with the sharp sword. Spoke Andréy to his brother Dmítri: “We are two brothers, sons of Ólgerd, grandchildren of Gedemín, great-grandchildren of Skoldimér. Let us mount our swift steeds, let us drink, O brother, with our helmets the water from the swift Don, let us try our tempered swords.”

And Dmítri spoke to him: “Brother Andréy! We will not spare our lives for the Russian land and Christian faith, and to avenge the insult to Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich. Already, O brother, there is a din and thunder in the famous city of Moscow. But, brother, it is not a din or thunder: it is the noise made by the mighty army of Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich and his brother Prince Vladímir Andréevich; the brave fellows thunder with their gilded helmets and crimson shields. Saddle, brother Andréy, your good swift steeds, for mine are ready, having been saddled before. We will ride out, brother, into the clear field, and will review our armies, as many brave men of Lithuania as there are with us, but there are with us of the brave men of Lithuania seven thousand mailed soldiers.”

Already there have arisen strong winds from the sea; they have wafted a great cloud to the mouth of the Dnieper, against the Russian land; bloody clouds have issued from it, and blue lightnings flash through them. There will be a mighty din and thunder between the Don and the Dnieper, and bodies of men will fall on the field of Kulikóvo, and blood will flow on the river Nepryádva, for the carts have already creaked between the Don and Dnieper, and the pagan Tartars march against the Russian land. Grey wolves howl: they wish at the river Mechá to invade the Russian land. Those are not grey wolves: the infidel Tartars have come; they wish to cross the country in war, and to conquer the Russian land. The geese have cackled and the swans have flapped their wings,--pagan Mamáy has come against the Russian land and has brought his generals....