The Baltic Crusade [2 ed.] 0929700104, 9780929700106

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THE BALTIC CRUSADE Second E d itio n , R evised and E nlarged

William L. Urban M organ P rofessor o f H istory M onm outh C ollege

Lithuanian R esearch

and

Studies Center, In c

Chicago, Illinois 1994

TH E BALTIC CRUSADE by W illiam L. U rban

In tern atio n al S tandard B ook N um ber 0-929700-10-4 L ibrary o f C ongress C atalog B ook N um ber 94-76154

Published by L ith u an ian R esearch and Studies C enter, Inc. 5600 South C larem ont A venue Chicago, Illinois 60636 U SA * (312) 434-4545

C opyright © 1994 by W illiam L. U rban

Published w ith financial support of: H ie A ssociation fo r th e A dvancem ent o f B altic S tudies (AABS) M onm outh C ollege (Illinois)

P rin ted in th e U n ited S tates o f A m erica M cN aughton & G unn, Inc., Saline, M ichigan

W ithout limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced,stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transm itted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior w ritten permission of the publisher.

TABLE O F CONTENTS P re fa c e ..................................................................................................................... i Acknowledgements ................................................................................................. v 1 Northern Germany and Denmark in the Late Twelfth Century .....................1 2 Livonia on the Eve o f the C rusades................................................................. 21 3 The Organization o f the Baltic C ru sad e..........................................................43 4 Denmark and L iv o n ia ....................................................................................... 61 5 Crusader Success in L iv o n ia..............................................................................81 6 The Conquest o f E s to n ia ............................................................................. 117 7 The Intervention of the P ap ac y ................................................................... 149 8 The Teutonic Knights Take C h arg e............................................................ 173 9 The Conversion of Lithuania ...................................................................... 203 10 Pressure on S am o g itia................................................................................ 233 11 Pagan Reaction in L ith u an ia...................................................................... 253 12 The Conquest o f S em gallia........................................................................ 277 13 The End o f die C ru sad e............................................................................. 306 14 Epilogue ...................................................................................................... 321 Genealogical C h a rts ......................................................................................... 341 B ibliography...................................................................................................... 347 I n d e x .................................................................................................................. 353 Maps The Holy Roman Empire c. 1 1 8 0 ...........................................................................6 The Baltic c .l 180 ................................................................................................. 22 Northern Central Europe and the Baltic c .l 1 8 0 ................................................24 Central and E aston Europe c.1200 ................................................................... 31 Europe c.1200 ...................................................................................................... 44 North Germany c.1200 ....................................................................................... 47 Livonia on the Eve o f the Conquest and The Baltic during the Early Conquest, 1200-1205 ........................................ 80 Central and E aston Europe in 1242 .............................................................. 174 Livonia 1250-1260 ............................................................................................ 234 Livonia 1260-1290............................................................................................ 276 The Baltic c. 1300 ............................................................................................ 320

PREFACE It is an unfortunate fact that until recently most scholars who mentioned the crusades discussed only those expeditions to the Holy Land thatfended in 1291. This circum stance may have been due to practical considerations in writing and publishing, but just as often it seems to have originated in a narrow definition o f "the crusades.” Be that as it may, the crusading movement was not confined to the N ear E ast Crusades were declared against heretics, pagans, and political opponents, as well as Saracens. They w o e organized and led by popes, kings, nobles, herm its, peasants, children, and excommunicants. They were organized against enemies o f the Roman Church in Greece, Spain, Germany, Bohemia, the Balkans, and Russia, as well as in the Holy Land and North Africa—for the purposes o f conquest, booty, and revenge, as well as fa- protection o f the holy places. In short, the crusading spirit and the crusading movement affected every social class and every generation from 1100 to 1500 and virtually every geo­ graphic location accessible to Europeans. Nor did the crusades cease to be a factor in European politics with the end of the m ilitary expeditions. The Renaissance papacy cannot be understood without considering the financial and political difficulties imposed by recent Turkish expansion at the expense of enemies both in the Islamic world and Christendom. The Spanish conquest of the New W orld also exhibited the spirit of die crusades and lacked only the formality o f a papal bull and the assent of historians to be called by such a name. From Clermont to Tannenberg, from the cloisters to the courts, these four centuries were a crusading era. The Baltic Crusade presents a picture of one part o f one perpetual crusade that occurred in the distant past in a remote part o f Europe but which névertheless has affected the history of that region into the present century. This volume attempts to show that this was an important crusade, the success of which venture depended largely upon political factors in the homeland, that is. Northern Germany and Scandinavia. The gradual incorporation o f the Baltic peoples into the political and religious systems of Central Europe was a process full o f changes and retreats, plots and connivances, self-serving alignments and pretensions o f service to the greater good o f the Church and State. Confusing even to contem poraries, its com plexities challenge the most prepared modem specialists, who must make do with incomplete or contradictory sources and present the s ta y to audiences accustomed to thinking solely in modem categories. By chance, this s ta y unfolds over the period o f almost exactly one century, from the late twelfth to the late thirteenth century, but its geographic expanse is immense—extending from the Holy Roman Empire to Scandinavia, Russia, Poland, and the western part o f the Mongol empire; the expansion o f international trade, the conflict between the Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches, the missionaries’ zeal to root out the last remnants of European paganism are central themes, the conflict o f em peror

and pope, o f die regular orders versus the secular church, together with dynastic am bitions are im portant subsidiary concerns. People living in the medieval era differed from modem man in their ways o f thinking as much as in the conditions of their daily lives. Consequently, we m ust make a special effort to grasp their own understanding o f their experiences. For example, their society was more sharply stratified along class lines and family connections than according to national origin, yet one cannot say that group identification was unim portant One has to struggle with the nuances. I expect to illustrate some o f diese issues in narrating this story, as well as to point out several persistent historical and moral issues pertinent to our own time. It is not easy to appreciate the thirteenth century on its own terms. H ie presentism which reigns over much o f our contemporary discourse concerning the past opens such efforts to accusations o f historicism. Nor can one escape the needs o f the potential readership. W hile some readers may want to understand the medieval Baltic for its own sake, others will be interested in the ways the past (or the interpretations of the past) has helped create the present, and still others may be looking for insights into human behavior during periods o f rapid and radical change. O f special relevance to modem times, and o f special concern to the author who teaches a course entitled WAR AND PEACE, is the concept o f the ju st war, which is certainly central to any discussion o f the crusades. The intent o f the crusades in the Baltic region was to protect converts and commerce and to suppress superstition, barbarism, and anarchical tribal warfare. Led by a professional priesthood whose sole duty was the care o f souls whom God had placed in their charge, these crusading endeavors w o e a noble cause and organized in the most idealistic form possible, when one takes human weakness into account. One can say in 1993 (with peacekeeping forces of the United Nations operating on three continents) that if this was not a righteous cause, there can be no cause worthy o f taking up arms in its defense. One could not have dared such a statement in 1975 (after the coalition o f forces which fought in Vietnam admitted failure there and in Cambodia). Perhaps in a few years such a statem ent will again provide exclamations of disbelief and derision. W hat resulted from this noble dream o f the thirteenth century as the years unfolded, as it became entangled in politics, personal ambition, ethnic differences and cultural misunderstandings, is the subject o f this volume. The ultim ate moral question is not what the motives o f the actors were, but die methods they employed. At its foundation, this question has to be posed in two parts: Do the ends justify the means? And, what are the alternatives? The years between the first edition and the second have been fruitful ones for scholars in medieval Baltic history. Quite by coincidence, the first edition of The Baltic Crusade appeared at a time when German and Polish scholars were beginning a remarkable series o f publications on the Teutonic Order, some of them cooperatively. W ithin a few years, the English-speaking world also possessed monographs o f a quality surpassing anything previously published in u

Britain or America. M ore recently, as political developments in the Baltic have brought Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia to public attention, a new interest in the medieval past of these nations has arisen. The time had come to reissue The Baltic Crusade, to take advantage of the new advances in our knowledge o f the era. This was also the opportunity to make a significant number Marienfeld S s Segeberg R » Reinfeld L - Loccum

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It is not surprising that Lübeck remained a center o f missionary activity and demonstrated great interest in Baltic affairs. Consequently, this city, through its clerics and merchants, had the closest possible ties to the Baltic Crusade, one of the results o f Henry the Lion’s generous and consistent patronage of m issionary bishops and enterprising merchants over many decades. Although m ost local German lords would have conceded that these were admirable traits, they nevertheless feared Henry’s lust for fame and wealth, and not without foundation, for at one time or another all o f them had to suffer from his associated hunger for land and power. Links with England and the control of Goslar were essential to Henry. To assure access to England he needed a friendly archbishop in Hamburg-Bremen because that diocese lay athwart the vital water routes of the W eser and Elbe Rivers, and he wanted personal control o f Goslar to guarantee the roads south from Lüneburg and Braunschweig over the Harz mountains to Bavaria. W estern Saxony, in contrast, was of relatively little interest to him. This spared him conflict with the archbishop o f Cologne, who was attempting to subject the W estphalian bishops and counts to his authority.13 In years to come, W estphalians o f all classes, seeking to escape from social and economic lim itations imposed by tradition and the governments o f the newly powerful feudal and ecclesiastical nobility, emigrated to the east in larger numbers than from any other region o f Germany; many knights and burghers were to go to Livonia. Henry’s Enemies The secular lord most opposed to Henry was Albrecht the Bear, whose domains stretched east across the middle Elbe into what would become Brandenburg. Albrecht was jealous o f Henry’s lands and influence in the Harz and Nordalbigensia and of his tide, duke o f Saxony. Their contest was fought out along the Elbe, partly over the right to conquer the W ends, partly over the right to control Magdeburg and the bishoprics which lay between their dom ains.14 The ecclesiastical priqce m ost threatened by Henry the Lion was Archbishop Hartwig I o f Hamburg-Bremen, who was for his part, every bit as land-hungry and power-greedy as Henry the Lion—and, furthermore, he coveted Henry’s lands along the lower Elbe and W eser Rivers. Clearly, Hartwig’s models were his colleague in Cologne and his own predecessors. More than a century earlier, during the minority o f Heinrich IV, Archbishop Adalbert o f HamburgBremen had dominated northern Germany. Because Emperor Heinrich HI had granted extensive territories to the ecclesiastical rulers to counterbalance the power o f secular lords, Adalbert had acquired great wealth and power. But, alarm ed by his pride and ambition, the secular and ecclesiastical Saxon lords had revolted and, led by the archbishop of Cologne, had destroyed Adalbert’s power and left behind only a memory. It was the dream o f resurrecting the glory of that era which led the canons o f the Hamburg and Bremen cathedral chapters to elect Hartwig o f Stade as archbishop in 1148. To the day o f his death twenty years later, Hartwig I fought the W elf at every opportunity.15

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THE BALTIC CRUSADE

Unfortunately for Hartwig, his career was marked by a succession of failures. Angered by the settlement o f 1156, Hartwig refused to attend court or send aid to the emperor in Italy. He pleaded the necessity o f defending his family inheritance in Stade and his ecclesiastical lands against Henry the Lion—excuses that were hardly acceptable to the hard-pressed emperor—and when his m ilitary resources proved inadequate, Hartwig had to flee Bremen, leaving it in W elf hands. Shortly afterward he found him self on the list of vassals reprimanded by the emperor at the Diet of Roncaglia and, as punishment, lost control o f the bishoprics o f LUbeck, Schwerin, and Ratzeburg, which went to his enemy, Henry the Lion. Hartwig’s attempts to regain im perial favor brought him only more trouble because he was foolish enough to recognize the anti-pope, Victor IV, just before that prelate died and his party began to collapse. As punishm ent. Pope Alexander III transferred the Scandinavian bishoprics to Archbishop Absalon of Lund. Even inactivity proved equally vain, because W elf influence over his domains grew steadily. Finally, in 1166, Hartwig led the Saxon nobles in a desperate revolt The resulting disorder displeased Frederick Barbarossa, whose Italian affairs w o e in crisis, and since he was desperately in need of Henry the Lion’s knights, the emperor supported his cousin in restoring order. The revolt collapsed, Hartwig died shortly thereafter, and his successor was so subservient to Henry the Lion that a medieval chronicler, Arnold o f Lübeck, said it was better to pass over that period in silence. Hartwig’s long, stubborn opposition to the W elf duke had not been without effect, however, for it led to Frederick Barbarossa’s recovery o f Goslar as his price for mediation in 1168. This created bad feelings between W elf and Hohenstaufen which worsened with each passing year.16 North o f the Elbe, the most important lord was Adolf II o f Holstein. Through continual war against the indigenous Wends and the Danish king, he had conquered a rich country that he resettled with peasants from Holland, Frisia, and W estphalia. By virtue of tremendous personal activity and courage, he defended his conquests up to the last year o f his life, and only then, in 1163, was he forced to surrender his newly founded and prosperous city o f Lübeck to Henry the Lion. This loss was a terrible blow to the land-rich but money-poor count, and the recovery o f Lübeck was to remain an unfulfilled ambition of generations o f Holstein counts. His heir, who had die additional disadvantage of assuming office at an early age, was unable to escape the domination o f Henry the Lion. And even after Adolf III attained his majority, he was unable to attain the independence his family believed to be so essential. Although very am bitious and brave to the point of rashness, Adolf was intelligent enough to wait for a weakening in the W elf position before attempting to regain his freedom. The last and most dangerous of Henry’s opponents was Albrecht the Bear, who defied old age and Henry the Lion equally, fighting relendessly against W elf encroachments until death finally claimed him in 1170. W ith his passing, the last great leader o f the Hohenstaufen party was gone. All northern Germany came under the influence o f the W elf duke.

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Settlement and Trade To all intents and purposes, Henry the Lion was sovereign in northern Germany. W ith his expanded power in Saxony and his domains in Bavaria, it appeared that he was the equal o f Frederick Barbarossa. So secure was he that in 1171 he was able to leave Germany on crusade to the Holy Land, and this one act, this crusade, symbolizes what the W elf duke had achieved. He had united Saxony and created a powerful state that could not only support colonization in the east and promote German commercial interests in the Baltic but could also revive the spirit that had been demoralized in the Second Crusade. The achievements o f Henry the Lion cannot be ignored. In a distant com er of Germany a certain German unity was achieved, and, more importantly, move­ ments which were to dominate the following century—colonization, commerce, and crusades—were set in motion. Henry had accomplished so much that even the events which followed could not disrupt the direction he had given German history in this part o f Europe. Why did Henry the lio n have such a far-reaching influence on northern Germany? The answer is simple: this was a frontier region. When the W endish crusade o f 1147 opened the regions across the Elbe to German colonization, Henry had been the first man in the field. Consequently, he had won the lio n 's share of the new lands. Throughout the era o f settlem ent and development he was foremost among the lords in encouraging the foundation of cities and in supporting the efforts of merchants to develop new m arkets.17 In settling the new lands, Henry and the other lords were wary of establishing a strong noble class below them; they saw little need for landed vassals. To attract colonists, they had offered significant concessions, so that most communities were exempt from the traditional obligations. The lords supported themselves and their followers not from the produce o f their demesnes but from the taxes o f the villages and cities. Therefore, the rulers needed tax collectors and justices, not landed vassals, and these offices could be filled by ministeriales as well as by independently wealthy knights o f noble ancestry. There were also certain advantages to the use of m inisteriales. These descendants o f free commoners, former serfs, and burghers were professional warriors and adm inistrators who could be removed at any time and, therefore, unlike noble knights who had hereditary rights to land and offices, they could be controlled. The m inisteriale’s wealth and position were dependent on his lord’s good will and political fortunes, and his social origin separated him from the noble vassal. As a result, he was more dependable. If he was lost by either natural death, being slain in battle, or entering a monastery, the lord did not have to wait for his son to reach maturity in order to benefit from the m ilitary and governmental skills a ministeriale provided—the lord could immediately replace him by selecting a talented candidate from among the sons o f rich peasants and merchants who had equipped themselves to fight on horseback. Henceforth, that m inisteriale would be a Ritter (rider^knight). Noble birth was no prerequisite.

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

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The result of this policy was to create a society in the north o f Germany somewhat different from that found elsewhere. Here the lord was supreme, but his powers were limited. His nobles w o e weak, but most peasants and burghers were satisfied to be governed by advocates who were often drawn from their own ranks to act as judges, taxcollectors, and commander of the local m ilitia. Commerce was more important than farming (it was in the lord’s interest that the m âchants prosper because he shared in their wealth through the resulting increase in tax revenues); in addition, the cities paid him to provide escorts and patrols to ensure the safety o f the roads. In short, Henry the Lion laid the groundwork for the Hanseatic society that later developed in the region.18 H en ry 's Fall Despite the fact that northern society was more egalitarian than elsewhere and that the lines between the classes were not starkly drawn, there were, of course, nobles present. Some were from old Saxon fam ilies, some were nobles o f very m inor rank, some were vassals o f local importance, and some were from m inisteriale families with ambitions for higher status. A number o f them were identified with the House o f W elf and profited from Henry’s successes, but m ost o f them saw Henry’s policies as a threat to their social position. For this reason numerous nobles took every opportunity to oppose the Lion’s program s, especially those which would bring more authority into his hands. When Henry left in 1171 to crusade in the east, he took as many o f these vassals with him as he could, but dissatisfied men nevertheless remained behind to create m inor disorders. In repressing these risings, W elf partisans increased their holdings of land and offices at the expense o f their traditional enemies. As a result, every rising brought a repression that heightened the dissatisfaction o f an ever larger num ber o f knights and nobles; the fact that some of these were technically Henry’s vassals did not diminish the danger they represented. So dangerous was the dissatisfaction of these nobles and churchmen that Henry did not dare go personally to Italy to support Frederick Barbarossa in 1174, when his presence was again needed. As long as there was a danger o f a revolt among the feudal nobility o f northern Germany, Henry had to remain in Saxony and keep watch over them, as he could not require all his vassals to go again to Italy so soon after their crusading effort, and he did not dare take all o f his loyal friends out o f the country, to leave their castles and cities vulnerable to attack by rebels. Another reason for his refusal to support his cousin was his growing confidence that he could defy an emperor who was tied down by wars in Italy. Frederick Barbarossa came to Germany in 1175 to ask his vassals to provide reinforcements. Unwilling to issue a call for a general levy, which he could not usç effectively, Frederick had to strike bargains with those individual lords willing to go south. Henry’s offer was to exchange the loan o f troops for possession o f Goslar. Frederick knew that Goslar would round out Henry’s holdings, making Saxony a kingdom within the German kingdom, essentially unassailable by imperial armies. The emperor, unwilling to grant such a

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concession, decided to fight on without assistance. Under such circum stances, it is understandable that Frederick Barbarossa ascribed his subsequent defeat at Legnano to Henry’s failure to send aid. Some o f Frederick’s officials even falsely accused Henry of having conspired with the Italian cities against the emperor. Im perial revenge was not long delayed. Although he had been defeated on the battlefield, Frederick Barbarossa won a victory at the peace table that more than compensated for his losses. And in doing so he cleverly struck at the W elf party. The emperor agreed to remove bishops who had not been recognized by the pope from their sees and to restore confiscated Church lands to their proper owners, a move that affected W elf adherents. When the W elfish archbishop of Bremen received the papal letter announcing his deposition, he suffered a stroke and died, and the vacancy was filled with the imperial candidate. Shortly afterward, several m inor Saxon lords declared a feud against Henry the Lion, and although the rising had tacit imperial approval, it was not completely successful. In 1178, Frederick, therefore, summoned Henry to court, where the dispute would be decided according to feudal law. But rather than face a hostile nobility and an angry emperor, Henry chose to remain in Saxony and defended him self as best he could. This was a clear violation of the Landfriede and provided an excuse for his enemies to close in upon him. As the archbishop o f Cologne, the archbishop of Bremen, and the count o f Holstein joined in the attacks, the W elf duke was driven back within the narrow confines o f Braunschweig and Lüneburg, his family domains. From that tim e on many evils came on the land, because everyone had risen against the duke, and every hand was against him , and his hand was against everyone. The Archbishop Philip brought his troops on a second invasion...and crossed the entire ducal territory with a powerful army, and everyone feared him. Many disgusting and terrible things happened on this invasion.19 The contest was still in doubt when Frederick Barbarossa threw his weight against his cousin. The feudal nobility condemned Henry for failure to appear in court, and the emperor personally led an army into Saxony. There was little opposition. The W elf vassals deserted to the emperor, and only a few o f Henry’s more favored cities offered resistance. Judged by his peers according to feudal custom , the Saxon duke was deprived o f his fiefs and banished from the realm for four years. The confiscated estates were divided among the men who had declared their support o f the emperor most opportunely, and although Frederick Barbarossa did not profit directly, he was temporarily fid o f a dangerous rival.20 The dismemberment o f the Saxon duchy not only enriched the victors but brought forth mutual jealousies which had been hidden for many years. The archbishop of Cologne, who profited more than any other prince, began to develop his Rhenish lands into a powerful base for future expansion. Next was Bernard o f Anhalt, the son o f Albrecht the Bear, who seized the dim inished title

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o f duke o f Saxony and, consequently, theoretical suzerainty over the numerous unruly vassals o f the area. The archbishops o f Magdeburg and Bremen, the bishops o f Paderborn and Hildesheim, and the counts of Thuringia, Holstein, and Lauenburg each seized some lands. But no m atter how much territory each lord received, each believed that he deserved more. As a result, these lords, especially the ecclesiastical princes like Adolf of Cologne, became W elf partisans in hopes of robbing the recently enriched Hohenstaufen loyalists o f their gains. Their am bitions to possess more power and more land w oe to create problems for the Hohenstaufens in the future. The example provided by Henry’s career was not lost on future generations. It was especially important for clerics in the Baltic, whose plans to establish ecclesiastical states were to be frustrated by semi-secular ambitions o f the m ilitary orders which provided the manpower and technical skills to conquer the pagan lands. These clerics looked upon the crusading orders ju st as the north German clergymen had seen Henry the Lion—a necessary evil as long as there were dangerous pagans to be fought, but dispensable once the crusades had succeeded. Because o f their accumulated military resources and personal alliances and friendships, however, they would not be easy to be rid of. But if a bishop was sufficiently determined, sufficiently sophisticated about both north German and imperial politics, and sufficiently flexible to switch parties at the right moment, he could still make him self into a powerful ruler. Henry Returns from Exile For these same reasons, Henry the Lion, although temporarily defeated and exiled, was not without hope o f recouping his losses. He still retained his family lands around Braunschweig and Lüneburg, thus remaining among the first rank o f im perial vassals. Many subvassals and ministeriales remained loyal to him, some o f his form er enemies professed their willingness to welcome him if there were some chance o f profit for them, and others hoped that his presence would bring stability to a disordered situation. Furthermore, Henry could count on the m ilitary and financial support o f his Angevin relatives in England, and even the king o f Denmark might offer assistance. Then there was the pope. The papacy—as represented by the pope, his cardinals, legates and other officials—always fearful o f imperial success in Italy, readily lent aid to disruptive factions in Germany. Lastly, the men who had taken Henry’s lands had not yet been able to secure their conquests against their jealous rivals; and the emperor, who was in the distant south, was unable to render them much protection. In short, all Saxony was unstable and many people, lay and clerical alike, longed for a restoration o f order. Henry’s partisans told him that he would be welcomed back. Consequently, when he returned to Germany in 1184 he expected to recover most, if not all, o f his losses.21 This proved to be a misjudgment. Although initially there was no cry of outrage and alarm, Henry did not allow his enemies to become accustomed to his presence. Instead, he sought to restore part of his former influence in Saxony by

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interfering in the election o f the archbishop of Bremen. This caused the frightened princes to assemble and vote to exile him again. Henry was not yet ready to fight against such numbers, and he therefore returned to England. The archbishop elected with Henry’s help was Hartwig II (1183-1207), a proud, stubborn, ambitious man whose desire to restore his see to its form er position o f hegemony in Saxony was hardly consistent with the Lion’s program. Hartwig II instinctively pursued short-term advantages, seduced first by Hohenstaufen offers, then by W elf promises, and he was never able to set long­ term goals and work toward them. This inability to suppress his personal characteristics—impatience, cleverness, ambition—in favor o f party obligations was to cause Hartwig II to waver between the W elfs and Hohenstaufens in all future difficulties. As a result, he achieved little in spite of his many intrigues and wars. He won neither trust, nor friendship, nor territorial rewards. Hartwig’s failures may be seen as a result o f the incompatibility o f his goals and the shortcomings of his personality rather than as incompetence o r bad luck, though the latter also played a role in his political misfortunes. His difficulties were sufficiently imposing without the addition o f party conflict His see had been disrupted by a generation o f warfare; many advocacies were held by hostile nobles, who could use their office as judge, taxcollector, and military commander to undermine rather than further his policies; and the debts Hartwig II had inherited from his predecessors could not be repaid from the inadequate revenues his officials were collecting. Then as now, lack o f revenue was at the root of most adm inistrative problems. If Hartwig n could have raised more taxes, many of his troubles would have been solved, but neither the citizens nor the peasants were eager for higher taxes; and every attempt to increase revenues produced more resistance than funds. The problem in the countryside was that most communities possessed immunity from taxes that dated from the time o f settlement, when the archbishops had offered tax remission to peasants who would settle in the marshes and reclaim the bottomlands. Now that the peasants were prosperous, they were also sufficiently numerous and warlike enough to defend their privileges. Protected by arms and the natural difficulties of the terrain, such independent peasants would long remain a thorn in the side o f the feudal proprietors along the North Sea co ast Hartwig’s attempts to coerce the peasants literally "bogged down" in the bottomlands.22 His arm ies’ failure to penetrate the swamps to collect fines took him deeper into debt than ever. An illegal tax on the citizens o f Bremen brought an imperial rebuff and fine. Hartwig’s only hope seemed to rest on help from outside. He entered into correspondence with Henry the Lion. If the archbishop was faced with seemingly insuperable difficulties, he could take some small comfort in the fact that his'neighbors were faring little better. The archbishop of Cologne was opposed by a coalition of m inor lords who hoped to lim it his power before he became even more dangerous to their liberties. The noble houses in Upper Saxony were feuding, and Holstein and Denmark were on the verge o f war. In short, there were many malcontents in the

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THE BALTIC CRUSADE

area, and Henry the Lion was the man who could unite them. W ith a prom ise of money it was possible to win over many princes; with the aid o f English silver the W elf set a widespread conspiracy afo o t This time Henry waited patiently for a propitious moment rath»’ than risk a premature return that m ight provoke an imperial rebuke. His opportunity came in 1189, when, to conciliate die pope and to demonstrate the unity o f western Christendom, Frederick Barbarossa set out on the Third Crusade with the kings of France and England. North G om ans had responded eagerly to the im perial summons, and hardly a person o f importance remained behind. Adolf of Holstein, the counts o f Schwerin, the archbishop o f Bremen, and the sons of Henry the Lion all took the cross; knights, burghers, sailors, and peasants joined one or another o f the several fleets or bodies o f men leaving for the east. Once the crusaders had departed, Henry returned to Saxony, and though many o f his followers were among the crusaders, he found sufficient welcome in the north to frighten his enemies. Moreover, the frightful and unexpectedly sudden end to the crusade made Henry’s invasion of Saxony very dangerous to the Hohenstaufen nobles. When Frederick Barbarossa drowned in A sia M inor, the feudal ties that had held all Germany loyal to him were loosened. Consequently, German feudalism faced a crisis, and the heir to the throne, as well as m ost of the nobles, hurried home to see that their rights and possessions would be maintained. Henry’s invasion coincided with the death o f the em peror to bring a premature end to the Hohenstaufens’ fondest hopes—that the crusade would recover Jerusalem and that the Holy Roman Empire would enjoy a much-needed respite from w ar and confusion. By this time, however, Henry the Lion was no longer as fearsome as his reputation. W ithout foreign assistance, he could not hold Saxony against his numerous deadly enemies. Although his brother-in-law, Richard the Lionheart, who had assisted his return to Germany, was harassing the Hohenstaufen em peror by interfering in Sicily, that was o f little help in Saxony. Nor were these tactics particularly effective in the M editerranean, either: Richard’s interference with both German and French interests, combined with his high-handed arrogance, were to cause him to be hated by his allies in the Holy Land and to lead to his subsequent imprisonment by Leopold o f Austria. Beyond offering money, Richard could be o f no assistance in northern Germany. He was on crusade when Henry needed help, and the best advice he could give Henry was to make peace. When the Lion found that impossible, he turned to his old ally and son-in-law, the king o f Denmark. Danish Influence Spreads South A t th t tim e Frederick Barbarossa became emperor Denmark was a relatively insignificant kingdom, subject to the Holy Roman Em pire and continually distracted by civil war. Denmark’s ceaseless feuds, assassinations, and widespread piracy made it appear that the waves of priests sent out by the archbishops o f Hamburg-Bremen had been able to wash only a shallow pool o f Christianity around the pagan souls of these Northmen. Proud, independent.

Northern Germany and Denmark in the Late Twelfth Century

15

warlike, the Danes had contented themselves with subjecting their equally proud and warlike Scandinavian neighbors and extoiting tribute from the tribes along the shores o f the Baltic. Neither rich, populous, nor well led, they had little influence on affairs in Germany. This was to change, thanks to the efforts of W aldemar I (1157-1182), Canute IV (1182-1202), and the great archbishop of Lund, Absalon (1157-1201), when this far-flung kingdom was organized into a state where officials and merchants could cross the seas and travel the roads in safety, where churches could be built and endowed, and where most authority lay in the hands o f the king. (Although royal authority was lim ited by the assem blies o f rich peasants who sav ed in the army, the nobility was only in the formative stages o f organization; so effective police power rested in the housecarls—the professional household warriors—o f the monarch and his officials.) The great kings, assisted by Archbishop Absalon, b a it their subjects to their w ill and revived Danish greatness. As Danish influence grew, it was inevitable that some arrangement be made with the German state created by Henry the Lion. After some initial conflict, the Danes and the W elfs found it more convenient to work as allies rather than adversaries. Both W aldemar I and Henry the Lion sought to establish central authority o v a their subjects; both opposed the W endish Slavs and A dolf II o f Holstein; both were interested in opening the Baltic for trade; and both wished to throw off the domination of a strong German emperor. However opposed their ultim ate goals were, for many years they found it convenient to cooperate in furthering their mutual interests; through intermarriage they gave expression to their belief that they shared a common destiny. There were practical limits to this family alliance, how eva. When Henry the Lion defied his sovereign, the Danish monarch gave him encouragement; but once fortune turned against his Saxon fatha-in-law , Canute had no wish to involve him self in a m ilitary conflict with Frederick Barbarossa. Confronted by an im perial demand that he do homage, the king made a different and less humiliating submission: he offered his daughter as a bride for an im poial son. It was during this shot-lived period of good relations with the emperor that Canute replaced the W elf overlordship in Mecklenburg by forcing its Slavic dukes to recognize his suzerainty. However, there was not a firm foundation for the alliance of the two royal houses, and the projected marriage never took place. But the Danish king did not need imperial support; indeed, his interests were diam etrically opposed to those o f the Holy Roman Emperor, and the chaotic situation in the north o f Germany gave him ample opportunity to extend his influence there. When the peasants of Dithmarschen, feisty clansmen inhabiting the swamps north o f the Elbe where the river meets the North Sea„rose against Archbishop Hartwig II, everyone expected that the archbishop would be assisted by Henry the Lion. However, Danish knights came to the peasants’ assistance, claim ing that w hateva transpired in the lands north of the Elbe were a concern of their monarch, who reserved to himself the right to decide any and all disputes in that area. Henry and his followers, who had no military base in this region and little

16

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

to gain from even a successful war, chose not to dispute the claim . He thereby gave im plicit recognition to Germany north o f the Elbe being in the Danish sphere o f influence in hope o f obtaining Danish assistance for the recovery o f his hegemony in Saxony. The interests o f Danish king and W elf duke converged in the land which lay between them, Holstein, whose count was conveniently absent on crusade. Thus it was to the conquest of Holstein that Henry devoted his energies when he returned from England However, his resources were inadequate to accomplish this speedily enough. When Adolf III returned hurriedly from the east and obtained assistance from the dukes o f Saxony and Brandenburg, Henry fled into Denmark, where he hoped to obtain m ilitary support. Bishop W aldemar o f Schleswig had rebelled in an attempt to seize the throne. Everyone remembered that his father had been king, that the monarch’s murder in 1157 at the hands of a prosperous peasant had gone unrevenged because W aldemar and his brothers were too young to join in the four-sided civil war which followed, and that his entering die clergy was not a completely voluntary act—moreover, W aldemar had the illegitim ate children to prove that he was more suited to the secular world than the ecclesiastical When the canons o f Hamburg-Bremen learned that Hartwig II had opted for the W elf party, they shut the city gates against him and elected the rebel Danish bishop as his successor. If this had been a real threat to the stability of the Danish throne, Canute would probably have given Henry more support, but the prospects for a W elf victory seemed so poor that the king refused to do more than offer his father-in-law refuge. It was a wise move. When Richard the Lionheart fell into the hands o f Leopold o f Austria, the English silver that had held the W elf party together was diverted for his ransom, and the W elfs went down in defeat.23 It was the pope who saved the W elf conspirators from their fate. Knowing that it would be a political blunder to allow the Hohenstaufen party to become too strong, the pope intervened on behalf of Archbishop Hartwig and saved his office for him. Bishop Waldemar sailed off to Sweden to continue his rebellion and was captured shortly afterward by his nephew. W ith Bishop W aldemar in prison, and Canute ill, Danish affairs quieted down. W ith Henry the Lion and his sons exiled to England and a strong emperor on the throne, north Germany was again dominated by members of the Hohenstaufen party. The W elf party survived, thanks to the papacy, but it was weak. W hen a chronicler noted baldly that "about this time the old duke Henry of Braunschweig died,”24 few people cared—only a handful o f W elf supporters, such as the one who wrote: Now he is taken from us God be graceful unto us And soon give us from that family Another such to come. Who will honor and enrich the world. A noble fruit o f Braunschweig, That was the worthy Henry.... A dolf III of Holstein organized affairs in the north to his own liking. Already he had impressed the mercantile community by his establishm ent of a

Northern Germany and Denmark in the Late Twelfth Century

17

new town in Hamburg which rapidly grew to importance, thereby making for him self a reputation as a patron of trade. He reinstated the settlem ent policy which had already begun to transform the northern landscape, thus becoming a patron o f agriculture. And in 1196, when another crusade to was being preached, he became the sponsor o f that as well. The very fact that Adolf could take the cross and absent him self from Holstein for three years demonstrates what he had achieved. O f course, he took many malcontents with him, including Hartwig II o f Hamburg-Bremen, but that, too, was a demonstration o f his power. This was a popular crusade. Germans seemed to want to atone for their past disappointing showings in the Holy Land. Those who had accompanied Frederick Barbarossa on the Third Crusade had never forgotten how their patriotic feelings had been inflamed by insults from Richard and his subjects, or how the French and English crusaders had refused to treat sick and wounded Germans. This situation had led sailors and soldiers from Bremen to found a hospital in 1190, the Order o f Saint Mary o f the Germans—the name reminiscent o f an earlier organization which had been absorbed into the Hospitallers in 1143. When Emperor Heinrich VI died suddenly in 1197, the crusaders who had preceded him to the Holy Land returned home quickly. At that time the Order o f S t Mary was converted into a military-religious order—an action approved by Pope Innocent m two years later. This transformed back into warriors those pious knights who had taken vows as friars to live in poverty, chastity, and obedience, and who were then serving as lowly orderlies in the hospital wards. In the eyes o f the Church it was more important to have trained professionals bearing arms in defense o f the few remaining Christian castles and cities than it was to have bedpans emptied. Knights could pray as well in armor as in kitchen smocks. This m ilitary-religious "hospital” soon became known popularly as the German Order (the Teutonic Knights). Although in its early years it grew slowly, ultim ately it became an organization o f great importance in the history o f the Baltic Crusade.25 Another display of German piety occurred in 1190 in Holstein, as crowds swarmed around a farmer named Gottschalk who reported that his soul had left his body during the W elf siege of Segeberg and, in the company o f angels, visited heaven and hell. Men and women o f all classes and ranks begged him for inform ation about their loved ones in the hereafter. His visions duplicated those o f Vicelin two generations earlier, though reflecting the interests o f the laity rather than the clergy.24 Such popular religious enthusiasm was easily mobilized by gifted preachers for support of the crusade to Livonia. The stability of northern Germany was to be short-lived. The contending factions resumed their rivalry as soon as the W elfs dared to challenge the Hohenstaufens again. The Italian policy o f Emperor Hqinrich VI was responsible for reviving the great duel between the popes and emperors, and this gave new life to the W elf-Hohenstaufen dispute in Germany as well. Though this struggle would be fought on German soil by German magnates, it would be fought for foreign purposes and with foreign money. German unity would be destroyed, and a new power would rule Nordalbigensia.

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

18 ENDNOTES

1. My viewpoint may seem "Welfish," influenced by James W estfall Thompson and his Feudal Germany (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1966), but I am in general agreement with the views of Geoffrey Barraclough’s The Origins o f M odem Germany (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1957), whose position is summarized on p. 193: "Frederick Barbarossa had built well. His efforts and ability and firm grasp o f realities had rescued the Empire from the set backs o f the Investiture Contest, which had retarded and perhaps even perverted G om an development by comparison with R anee and England. But there w o e certain problem s outstanding, both in Italy and Germany, when he died in 1190." C otainly northern Germany was one o f those problem areas. Frederick’s death, and the sudden demise o f his son, Heinrich VI, led to a breakdown in the im perial system. As civil war divided the heartland o f Germany, the north was set to drift into the orbit o f Denmark, then ink) virtual autonomy. W hatever one may think o f Thompson’s W elfish views, from the standpoint o f North Germany they are justifiable. See also, Benjamin Arnold, Princes and Territories in medieval Germany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991). 2. M anfred Hellmann, "Bischof Meinard und die Eigenart der kirchlichen Organisation in den baltischen Ländern," Gli Inizi del Cristianesimo in U vonia—Lettonia (Vatican City: Vaticana, 1989), 9-16. 3. Arnold, Princes and Territories, 3-5, 282-3. 4. Arnold, Princes and Territories, 235, 245; Friedrich Lotter, "Die Vorstellungen von Heidenkreig und W endenmission bei Heinrich dem Löwen," Heinrich der Löwe (ed. W olf-Dieter Mohrmann. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1980), 11-43; Kail Jordan, Henry the Lion, a Biography (trans. P. S. Falla. Oxford: Clarendon, 1986), 32-34. 5. Eric Christiansen, The Northern Crusades. The Baltic and the Catholic Frontier 1100-1525 (Minneapolis: M innesota, 1980), 48-69. 6. Arnold, Princes and territories, 139-141; Robert Bartlett calls this phenomenon "the Aristocratic Diaspora," The Making o f Europe: Conquest, Colonization and Cultural Change 950-1350 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 24-59. 7. Arnold, Princes and territories, 234-5; Bartlett, Making o f Europe, 85, 307. 8. Arnold, Princes and Territories, 42-43,176-180; Jordan, Henry the Lion, 90f. 9. W illiam Urban, "The W endish Princes and the ‘Drang nach O sten,’” Journal o f Baltic Studies, 9(1978), 116-128; Jordan, 72-88; Hermann Heckmann, ed., Mecklenburg Vorpommern (Würzburg: W eidich, 1989), 12-16,42, 57-65, 103106, 109-110, 131; for a general overview o f this cultural am algamation, see B artlett, ''Making o f Europe, 197-242. 10. Arnold, Princes and Territories, 48-52. 11. Otto o f Freising, The Deeds o f Frederick Barbarossa, trans. Charles Christopher Mierow (New York: Norton, 1966), 278; see essays by W olf-Dieter Mohrmann and Inge Maren Peters in Heinrich der Löwe, 44-84, 85-126.

Northern Germany and Denmark in the Late Twelfth Century

19

12. Hellmann, "Bischof Meinhard,” 15. 13. The policies o f Henry the Lion resemble, on a regional level, those of Frederick Barbarossa on the national level. His goal was to divide and weaken the independent princes and make them subordinate to his authority. From the financial base provided by the cities (Henry founded his; Frederick fought to conquer the communes in Lombardy), he expanded his influence over the neighboring states. To assert that Henry believed in regional autonomy and national development is only to say that he believed in protecting what was his. Had he been emperor, he probably would have invaded Italy. Certainly his son, Otto IV, adopted the Hohenstaufen "program" as soon as he had the opportunity. In addition to Jordan, 217-226, see Austin Lane Poole, Henry the Lion (Oxford: B.H. Blackwell, 1912), and Marcel Pacaut, Frederick Barbarossa (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1970); H. Schmidt, "Die bremer Kirche und des Unterweserraum im frühen und hohen M ittelalter," Stadt-Kirche-Reich. Neue Forschungen zur Geschichte des M ittelalters (Bremen, 1983) [Schriften der W ittheit zu Bremen, new so ies, voL 9], 9-27. 14. Jordan, Henry the Lion, 92. 15. The rest o f the chapter is taken from Otto o f Freising, Deeds o f Friedrich Barbarossa; Helmoldi presbyteria Bozoviensis Chronica Slavorum, 3d ed., Bernard Schmeidler and Johann M. Lappenberg (Hannover: Hahnsche, 1937); Arnoldi abbatis Lubecenisis Chronica, ed. Johann M. Lappenberg (H annover Hahnsche, 1868) (hereafter cited as Arnold o f Lübeck); and Annales Stadenses auctore Alberto, ed. Johann M. Lappenberg (H annover Hahnsche, 1859) (hereafter cited as Albert o f Stade). All of these chronicles are found in the Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores rerum germanicarum in usum scholarum sepatarim editi. For an English summary, see W ilson King. Chronicles o f Three Free Cities: Hamburg, Bremen, Lübeck (London: J.M . Dent & Sons, 1914). Herbert Schwarzwalder, Geschichte der freien Hansestadt, Bremen (3 vols. Bremen: Röva, 1979), I, 39-43; Eric Christiansen’s first two chapters of The Northern Crusades provide an excellent description o f the W endish Crusade in the context o f north European politics and societies. Much shorter, but also good is Edgar Johnson, "The German Crusade on the Baltic," in A History o f the Crusades, III (ed. Harry Hazard. Madison: University of W isconsin, 1975), 545-556. 16. Jordan, Henry the Lion, 102-104. 17. See B artlett’s chapter "Colonial Towns and Colonial Traders," Making o f Europe, 167-196. 18. Thompson, Feudal Germany, 292-337. One would think that Marc Bloch’s Feudal Society (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1961) would put to rest all ideas that feudal practices were uniform, as used to be suggested in "pontifical" texts. It is absolutely essential to an understanding o f the Baltic Crusade to remember that feudalism was a growing and changing institution and that it developed differently in different places. Feudal practices in Livonia and Denmark were based upon the practices in northern Germany, but in each place they evolved so as to satisfy local needs. Therefore, one cannot expect Livonian

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

20

custom s to be the same as those customs characteristic o f the classical feudalism o f northwestern France. To place this in a larger context, see Archibald Lewis, Nomads and Crusaders, A D . 1000-1368 (Bloomington: Indiana University, 1988), 133-37. 19. Arnold c f Lübeck, from the year 1179; Arnold, Princes and Territories, 37, confirms that "Ultimately the problem o f Henry the Lion arose from the determ ined opposition o f many o f the Saxon and Rhenish bishops and secular princes to his high-handed methods." Jordan, Henry the Lion, 163: "Barbarossa realized that the excessive power Henry had acquired in the course of time and the alm ost kingly prestige he enjoyed in both East and W est threatened to disrupt the feudal fabric o f the German state." 20. Jordan, Henry the Lion, 174-180. 21. Jordan, Henry the Lion, 187, notes that little is known about Henry’s activities in these years. 22. W illiam Urban, Dithmarschen, A M edieval Peasant Republic (Lewiston, NY : Edwin M ellen, 1991). 23. Jordan, Henry the Lion, 187-194. 24. Sdchische Weltchronik, in Monumenta Germaniae Historia, Deutsche Chroniken, ed. Ludwig W eiland (Berlin: Weidmann, 1877), U, 234. 25. This hospital had its spiritual origin in a convent established perhaps as early as 1118, but it vanished with the fall o f Jerusalem in 1187. During the Third Crusade a new hospital founded in m id-1190 at Acre adopted the earlier name. In 1198, German crusaders determined to make use o f knights who had taken religious vows by transforming this nursing order into a m ilitary order. Gerard M üller, Jerusalem oder Akkon? Über den Anfang des Deutschen Ordens nach dem gegenwärtigen Stand der Forschung (Nördlingen: W agner, 1984); Harmut Boockmann, Der Deutsche Orden, Zw ölf Kapitel aus seiner Geschichte (München: Beck, 1981), 26-29; Udo Arnold, "Entstehung und Frühzeit des Deutschen Ordens," Die geistlichen Ritterorden Europas (ed. Joseph Fleckenstein and M anfred Hellmann. Sigmaringen: Thorbecke, 1980) [Vorträge und Forschungen, 26], 81-107; Indrikis S tan s, "The Teutonic Knights in the Crusader States," in vol. 5 o f A History o f the Crusades (Madison: University, 1985), 315-322. 26. W alter Lammers, "Gottschalks Wanderung in Jenseits. Zur Volksfrömmigkeit im 12. Jahrhundert nördlich der Elbe," Sitzungsberichte der wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft an der Johann Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am M ain, 19/2(1982), 7-30.

*

CHAPTER TWO LIVONIA ON THE EVE OF THE INVASIONS

The western world o f the twelfth century knew little o f Livonia. W esterners do not even seem to have taken much note o f its best known product, amber, which had once found ultimate resting places in Egyptian tombs and Roman catacombs. Ft»* several centuries the inhabitants of the eastern Baltic, not organized into kingdoms or dukedoms, had been little more than observers o f the march of conquest and trade that periodically made the region im portant to the warriors and merchants who made the journey from Scandinavia to Byzantium and back. During the twelfth century the native peoples began to fight back, winning occasional victories which were not o f sufficient importance to receive more than a passing reference in the chronicles kept by monks in lands far away but which indicate that they were growing in numbers and self-confidence. The ancestors of the modem Estonians, Latvians, and Lithuanians, having rejected the infrequent offer o f salvation by the two competing bodies o f Christians, the Orthodox and the Roman Churches, also rejected the cultures borne by them. Hence, though their societies were evolving slowly toward greater complexity and wealth, in the main they continued to live quiet lives like those o f their ancestors, in which the cycles o f birth, marriage, and death, plenty and famine, victory and defeat in war, and the monotony of daily work repeated themselves unheeded by outsiders. Geography Life was not easy in this northeastern com a- o f Europe. The cold, dry springs were followed by short, rainy summers and long, bitterly cold winters. The flat, sandy western coast was often wrapped in fog, and headlands jutted into the stormy waters o f the G ulf o f Finland. In winter even the sea froze solidly, halting all maritime travel for half the year. Consequently, the native peoples luxuriated in the long summer days, watching the sun make its long low path above the horizon and celebrating the summer solstice (S t John’s Day, June 24) by staying up the entire short night, drinking, singing, dancing, jum ping over the communal bonfires, and making love. The summer, like life itself, was short but intense and pleasurable. From the co ast a low, tolling plain extended into the interior, where the high hills eventually descended toward the lakes, swamps, and marshes that marked the natural frontiers with Russia. This plain, though generally flat to the point o f boredom, was occasionally broken by the remains o f glacial activity: steep unforested hills, long moraines, wide and shallow lakes. The numerous streams and rivers were broad and shallow, and flooded every spring when the snow melted; in wide areas the streams meandered through low swamps, separating the countryside into natural districts, so that people sharing a common language nevertheless found it difficult to establish any government

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

22

above that o f tribal councils. Much o f the countryside was covered by forest, with oak and beech predominating in the south and fir in the north; and there were only a few open areas fit for intensive agriculture. Even these areas m ight not have been capable o f being cultivated if the climate had not been moderated by the Baltic Sea, the salvation o f the land, providing moisture and warmth as well as linking Livonia to the commercial areas o f the west, ju st as the various rivers led to the commercial areas o f the east.1 Fishing, unfortunately, like cereal production, barely supplied domestic needs. Bees provided honey for mead, but that was easily found everywhere north o f the latitude where grape vines would grow; and native beer was healthful but no product worthy o f export Besides, exporting liquids required skilled craftsmen who could make barrels. The Balts still lacked such artisans. Consequently, it was trade in furs and other luxury item s that gave Livonia such prosperity as it enjoyed rather than the natural richness o f the land. However, the warlike and piratical nature o f the natives discouraged merchants from visiting them, thus making the prices o f im ported goods high and those exported low. According to Adam o f Bremen: There also are other more distant islands that are subject to the authority o f the Swedes. O f these islands the largest, the one called Courland, takes eight days to traverse. The people, exceedingly bloodthirsty because of their stubborn devotion to idolatry, are shunned* by everybody....W e are told, moreover, that there are in this sea many other islands, of which a large one is called Estland. It is not sm aller than the one o f which we have previously spoken. Its people, too, are utterly ignorant of the God o f the Christians. They adore dragons and birds and also sacrifice to them live men whom they buy from the merchants. The men are carefully inspected all over to see that they are without a bodily defect on account of which, they say, the dragons would reject them. This island is said, indeed, to be very near the land o f women.2

THEBALTIC I ABOUT 1180

r -

I

Mecklen NJIsmburg burg

Bremef e a n d e n b u r ^ " W ese> River I (E lb e sax o n y ^

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

23

Adam o f Bremen was very well informed on geographic m atters, but even he connected this little-known area with the legend of the Amazons and with the Cynoceophali who had their heads on their breasts. He knew more about Thule and Greenland than about the Baltic.3 Therefore, if this chronicler—universally acknowledged as our best source—was so woefully ignorant o f the lands lying to his northeast, we can easily imagine what the rest of the population was willing to believe. The truth was far different Descriptions o f the native tribes which have survived are very sim ilar to those written by any civilized reporter about his more savage neighbors. A chronicler o f the Teutonic Knights summarized them thus: There are numerous pagans who have oppressed us. One group is called Lithuanians. Those pagans are arrogant and their army does much harm to pure Christianity. That is because their might is great. Nearby lies another group of pagans, a strong people named Semgallians, who dominate the land around them. They give hardship without relief to those who live too close. The Selonians are also pagan and blind to all virtue. They have many false gods and do evils without number. Nearby is another people named Letts. All these pagans have most unusual customs. They dwell together but farm separately in the fo rest Their women are beautiful and wear exotic clothing. They ride in the ancient fashion. Their army would be very strong if it were all brought together. Along the sea lies an area named Kurland. It is more than three hundred miles long. Any Christian who comes to this land against their w ill will be robbed o f his life and possessions. The Oselians are evil heathens, neighbors to the Kurs. They are surrounded by the sea and never fear strong armies. In the summer, when they can travel across the water, they oppress the surrounding lands. They have raided both Christians and pagans, and their strength is in their ships. The Estonians are pagan also, and there are many mothers’ sons o f them. That is because their land is so broad and so spread out that I cannot describe it. They have so many powerful men and so many provinces full o f them that I do not want to talk more about them. The Livonians are also heathen, but we have hope that God shall soon bring them from that.4 This last tribe mentioned, the Livonians, was the weakest of all and was the first to confront, and succumb to, merchants and warriors from the west. Noted for their great height, the "tallest people in the world," they lived scattered along the seacoast in the Daugava (Dvina, Düna) river basin or in the Gauja river basin slightly to the north, each clan dominated by a chief ,who held sway from a hilltop fort.5 Subject to the Letts but also paying tribute to the distant duke (in Russian, prince) of Polozk (Polotsk), the Livonians were nevertheless relatively independent because they had alm ost no obligations to their nominal overlords except occasional contributions of money.

24

N O R TH ER N C EN TR A L EU RO PE X AND T H E B A LTIC

G reat Poland

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

25

Estonia had been undergoing significant changes in this twelfth century, too, greatly influenced by developments to the east but perhaps even more by western models, principally those in Scandinavia. The reason for this was that the eastwest trade route by sea from Gotland to Novgorod passed along Estonia’s northern coast. The introduction o f iron plowshares and winter rye perm itted the population to grow. The growth might have been sw ifter if the Estonians had adopted the three-field system (one field planted in winter for early summer harvesting, one planted in the spring for fall harvesting, and one left fallow). However, this fanning technique required a large team o f animals to pull a heavy plow. This plow, which turned the soil over in furrows, was necessary for the thicker soils found in western and central Europe, but the sandy fields of Estonia could be worked effectively with a smaller plow drawn by only a span o f oxen or horses. Moreover, the type o f labor associated with the three-field system required the villagers to work as a unit and to live together (as on a western manor). M ost Estonians preferred to continue farming in the traditional two-field system which allowed them to live scattered across the countryside and keep a closer watch on their cattle and horses. Those who experimented with the three field system could accomplish the fieldwork only with the help o f slaves. Only the noble class of betters (also seniores or elders) which rose out o f the clan structure had the ability to capture slaves and direct their labor. The m ost capable warriors among these "chiefs" led raids south among the Livs and Letts, and west to Scandinavia for slaves and booty; and to protect themselves from reprisals and each other they built large new forts. In some o f the settlements specialists began to produce pottery and iron tools. Though a class system may have been developing, it was nevertheless still primitive, and the pre-feudal structure of these tribes prevented any one noble from becoming sufficiently powerful to unify the nation, ju st as the individual nature o f farm ownership prevented the development of manorial practices which would both increase production and serve as a base for feudal government. Regular taxes were not required to pay the tribute—those amounts were collected when Russian officials came in person to demand it, usually with an army nearby—and the provision of animals for sacrifice in religious festivals was arranged by their own priests, perhaps in the form of a community feast which provided nourishment for the poor.6 Kurland (Courland) was a multi-ethnic region. The genuine Kurs, who spoke their own language, lived in the interior and south. They were noted, as we see above, for their m ilitary skills. Living as they did in a sparsely inhabited, heavily wooded country surrounded by warlike neighbors, they had to be successful warriors to survive. The warrior class known as Kwrish kings were apparently pre-feudal nobles and elders of clans who had their own private forts. In southern Kurland, Samogitians and Prussians joined the Kurs to produce a rich ethnic mix. At the coast’s most northerly point dwelt a small number of Liv fishermen who practiced occasional piracy. But along the western shore, vulnerable to attack and with fields consisting o f little more than sand, there were no settlem ents at all. Yet it was here, on these beaches and in Samland, to the south in Prussia, that

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

26

storms threw the golden amber onto the shores. Consequently, once foreign trade was reestablished, whoever could dominate these alm ost deserted shores could greet m âchants which a sure knowledge that their polished "stones" would be highly desired .7 Diverse as these people w o e and divided by language and mutual hatred, they nevertheless had much in common.* Their basic social unit was the extended fam ily, which usually was organized into clans. The foremost male o f the fam ily was a senior and he met with other elders to form the tribal council which was basically responsible for the government. Occasionally one o f these landed aristocrats ruled as chief, levying taxes and tolls and commanding the arm y, but such instances were rare, and authority was lim ited in all cases. Everywhere the commoners had considerable rights. The warrior class lived by raising cattle and farming, as did the elders, and often possessed sizeable personal estates. The peasant te n ta s w o e free men, and although they probably could not afford to outfit themselves for cavalry warfare, they were im portant m ilitarily as infantry, scouts, and raiders. W arfare M ilitary technique was prim itive everywhere. Pitched battles were rare, whereas sudden raids in overwhelming force were common, followed by a sw ift retreat before the victims could rally. The chronicler Henry o f Livonia described one such Livonian-Semgallian-German ambush o f a party o f Lithuanians returning from a raid into Estonia thus: The Lithuanians came with all their loot and captives, who numbered more than a thousand, divided their army into two parts, placed the captives in the middle, and, because o f the excess depth o f the snow, marched single file over one path. But as soon as the first o f these discovered the footprints o f those who had gone before, they stopped, suspecting an ambush. Thus the last in line overtook the first and all were collected in one formation with the captives. When the Semgalls saw their great multitude, many of them trembled and, not daring to fight, wished to seek safer places.9 Elsewhere he remarked:

^

The Lithuanians were then such lords over all the peoples, both Christian and pagan, dwelling in those lands that scarcely anyone, and the Letts especially, dared live in the small villages. Not even by leaving their houses deserted to seek the dark hiding places of the forest could they escape them. For the Lithuanians, laying ambushes for them at all times in the forest, seized them, killing some and capturing others, and took the latter back to their own country.10

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

27

The Lithuanians had evolved toward an organized state much faster than the coastal Prussians, Kurs, and Livs, faster than the less numerous Letts and SemgaUians to the north. Evidence from the early thirteenth century suggests a rudimentary yet powerful state with hereditary dukes ruling discrete territories. The grand duke, Ringaudas, was later succeeded by his sons, Dausprungas and M indaugas, and a daughter was married to the principal noble o f Samogitia, Vykintas, whose sister was in turn married to Dausprungas. The heart o f the state was in the central highlands (AukStaitija), which Ringaudas governed through vassals—most of whom were relatives. Lowland Samogitia was much less organized: we know the names of more than forty districts in Samogitia, each presumably with its dominant clan elder or noble princeling. Always independently-minded, the Samogitians were very devout pagans who made life miserable for any outsider who tried to govern or convert them. Deltuva lay between the uplands and the low country but was less prominent politically than either. After Mindaugas murdered Deltuva’s duke in order to marry his wife, that region lost its importance altogether.11 Such raids as described above provided the Lithuanians with the goods that other people obtained through industry and trade. It also brought them large numbers o f slaves. However, the woods surrounding each village were so wild and thick that an able-bodied man could readily escape and make his way homeward. This, and the prim itive nature o f agricultural organization, m eant that captives could not be used as serfs. Consequently, raiders often slew the males and kept only the women and children. Perhaps they sold a number o f males to slave traders from the Byzantine and Turkish worlds. It was the danger o f such raids that made the wooden stockade or fort so important to these tribes. Located on easily defensible sites, they consisted of logs laid horizontally and bolstered by tower-like bastions. Roofed with wood and bark and covered with clay, they were proof against the prim itive siege techniques o f their neighbors. M ost o f tire population still lived outside the fort, however, in scattered settlements surrounded by nothing more than weak walls or hedges which would keep cattle in or out as they wished, and which would slow down the first rush o f attackers. Life in these suburbs was more comfortable and healthier than living in a crowded citadel, but the people were always ready to hurry into the fort at the first sign of danger, knowing there would be no attem pt to defend the hedge.12 The Lettgallians seem to have had an arrangement with the Lithuanians. In return for guaranteeing the Lithuanians safe passage through their lands to attack the Estonians, Livs, and SemgaUians, they would be spared injury themselves. This left the Lettgallians at Gerzike and U vs at Kokenhusen in an ambiguous situation, paying tribute to the ruler o f Polozk and simultaneously been subservient to the Lithuanians. Vladimir o f Polozk may have a sim ilar arrangement himself—a weak prince, perhaps only one o f several men claiming the ducal title, he watched quietly as Lithuanian bands passed through his territory to enrich themselves with booty from farmers and merchants in lands subject to Novgorod, Pskov, and Smolensk. The general assumption of scholars

28

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

is that although his immediate predecessor had been a Lithuanian, Vladim ir was a Russian, somehow connected to the Russian ducal family which had ruled Polozk earlier in the century. However, it may be that Vladimir was a Lithuanian who took a Russian name upon baptism (as did his successor, Boris Gynwilowitsch) and who may well have taken a Russian w ife as well. That would certainly explain the presence o f Lithuanians in his armies and his toleration o f the pagan raiding parties which traversed his lands to attack Russian and Estonian settlem ents.13 This warfare, constant and cruel, was rarely total. Lightning raids and sudden retreats by mounted infantry, ambushes, and organized flights into the forts were practically their only m ilitary skills. In the rare pitched battles, one mob would hack away at another until one weakened; then the losing side would flee for their horses. Casualties were heavy only because o f the panic. This type of warfare reflected the limited goals of the tribesmen, who wanted prestige, booty, and prisoners, not land or tribute. The very sameness of the crops, resources, and livestock each tribe possessed gave little impulse to economic aggression, and lack o f organization hindered political expansion. These tribes were therefore pitted against one another in eternal but relatively bloodless petty warfare. As we have seen, the Europeans of the late twelfth century knew little m ore about these peoples and their petty feuds than they knew o f the great ice sheets which had once covered and formed the landscape o f this area. This m ust have become less significant after German and Scandinavian merchants suppressed piracy in the G ulf o f Finland, the route they took each summa- from Gotland to Novgorod, and after Baltic traders began to bring small quantities o f mainland products to Gotland. Nevertheless, f a decades few individual traders—even the daring merchants of Gotland—had found the profits from the purchase o f am ber and furs on die mainland worth risking death at the hands of local pirates and com petitors; and the ones who did kept secret the knowledge they had gained lest it be of advantage to their rivals. This reluctance to share inform ation changed little even after groups o f merchants and sailors from Gotland began to make regular visits to Livonia, except that, unable to remain completely silent about their adventures, they invented wonderful and horrible stories o f pagan demons, m urder rituals, and monsters. Such stories entertained their comrades, impressed their children, frightened the girls who met them in port, and confounded their competitors; they also lured adventurers and devout m issionaries to the area. Trade It was the arrival o f western merchants in ever larger numbers during the 1180’s'th a t upset the traditional system of alliances and tribute by which the eastern Baltic region had been governed. When German and Scandinavian m erchants began to visit the tribes there, they expected protection and justice, and if the local rulers and their distant overlords hoped to retain their valuable taxes and tolls, they had to provide maximum security from robbery and murder. W hen native rulers failed to protect them adequately, the merchants acted in their

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

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own behalf. To secure access to their markets, the German and Scandinavian merchants became imperialists. To be sure, the merchants had little interest in imperialism as such. They were interested only in trade, not in conquest and governm ent But they were operating in the farthest outreaches o f the dynamic new society developing in the west, and this society demanded the products available in the Baltic northeast. The German economy in particular sought the furs, leather, honey and bees-wax of Livonia. G om an merchants set out for the Baltic with those items the native peoples wanted in exchange: iron weapons, cloth, glass trinkets, and probably alcoholic beverages. The first and most basic requirement for trade was security: a safe harbor for ships, a secure depot for goods, and a guarantee o f justice for all traders. They found these at Visby, a port on Gotland which had the further advantage o f being easily reached by merchants from Russia, Estonia and Scandinavia, as well as from Germany. Waldemar I o f Denmark and Henry the Lion o f Germany cooperated to secure the sea lanes to Visby, and soon a thriving merchant colony grew up there. L at» discoveries o f coin hoards on Gotland and the surrounding shores o f the Baltic clearly demonstrate the changing corridors o f trade. Sweden and the Daugava basin gave way to the new opportunities to sell German products in Novgorod via Gotland, the G ulf of Finland, the Neva River, Lake Ladoga, and the Volkhov River.14 Although most goods from the mainland could be purchased at Visby, many traders wished to visit the sources of production, where the prices were lower and the demand for western goods was greater. This was especially true for the Daugava River communities, which had not been on the main line of international trade. But that route was dangerous because o f the likelihood of attack by Lithuanians, and the merchants clamored for more protection—usually without much effect. Consequently, few merchants had dared to sail upriver to Polozk or even visit the communities along the lower river. For these reasons they were willing to support any im perialist venture in the Daugava basin that m ight further their mercantile interests. Important as the merchants were in encouraging expansion into the eastern Baltic, the Roman Church was even more im portant11 W estern churchmen were ashamed o f the fact that Livonians, Estonians, and Prussians remained pagan, but they were even more concerned with the religious condition of the powerful Russian communities lying to the ea st The Russians The Russians were a multi-national people. Mainly Slavs, but with im portant minorities o f Finns, Lapps, and various steppe tribes, tyey lived in the forested region north o f the great steppe. At one time their empire had extended to the Black Sea, but nomadic Cumans and Patzinaks now ruled those shores. The vast and thinly populated forest and river country was divided into ten m ajor states, each named after the most important city of the region and governed by a member of the house o f Rurik, the royal family purportedly founded by Swedish

30

THE BALTIC CRUSADE

Varangians who had passed through Russia to trade and raid the Byzantine and Moslem worlds. Grand Duke (lit Great Prince) Vsevolod in had continued through his reign, 1176-1212, to apportion the duchies so that as genealogically eldest, he governed Kiev, and those following him ruled Novgorod, Suzdal, Smolensk, Galicia, etc., each prince advancing to the next most prestigious post as death removed those ahead o f him. In practice, however, then as in the past, the brothers and cousins warred among themselves relentlessly, splintering the country north and south, east and w est Each line of descent placed its am bitions above the needs o f Russia as a whole, but no duke was able to rule long enough over one territory to establish his branch of the dynasty firm ly; and not even Vsevolod III, powerful as he was, was ready to abandon the traditional system of lateral succession in the ducal offices for die principle o f prim ogeniture, since in theory this provided for territorial defense, with the m ost experienced men ruling the most important centers. However, as seemingly endless family feuds undermined the unity o f the state (without succeeding in establishing strong local dynasties which could substitute for the lack o f a dependable grand duke), Russia was left with the worst of all situations—a large decentralized and sparsely populated state, preoccupied by personal and dynastic disputes, and led by grand dukes who, though strong enough to frustrate their immediate rivals for control o f Kiev, were too weak to simultaneously deal with potentially dangerous enemies on the frontiers to the east and west. The genealogically younger dukes, transferred from region to region, lacked that assurance o f being obeyed which comes only from long-standing personal relationships between rulers and subjects. These dukes were slowly losing authority to their boyars (landed nobles whose principal duty was to appear with a retinue of trained warriors whenever summoned by their lord) and they were being challenged even by the m erchant communities in the larger cities.16 Polozk lay on the trade routes which ran east and west along the Daugava, north toward Novgorod, and south through the swamps to M insk. In the early twelfth century, when Polozk was able to control the Daugava through native princelings, its dukes were free to lead their armies into Lithuania when not involved in fighting relatives. In the closing years of the century the tributary relationship between the Lithuanians and Russians changed; henceforth, Polozk paid the pagans to leave them in peace and, if indeed the duchy had been fragm ented by dynastic conflict, some areas may already have accepted Lithuanian dukes as rulers; Minsk was apparently occupied by a Lithuanian garrison.17 Novgorod, Smolensk, and Polozk were important to Baltic trade because o f their control o f the portages in the Valdai hill country. A m erchant could sail from Visby across die seas, then upriver to these cities, and there exchange his good* for the produce o f the south and ea st In theory, he could proceed east but rarely if ever did so. More important than the products o f China, Persia, or Byzantium, however, were the furs of the north. The native Russian m erchants, therefore, tended to travel the river routes toward the northeast where hunters collected precious furs or southeast to trade with Moslem, Byzantine, and Italian

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

31

merchants. Few sailed out into the Baltic to cany the products they had obtained to Visby and other ports. Instead, it was Gotlanders and G om ans who braved the pirates and storms. As a result, the western settlem ents in Novgorod and Smolensk, with their warehouses, dormitories, and churches, were much larger than the equivalent Russian establishment in Visby. The trade in furs and goods in transit brought wealth to these Russian cities, but much o f the wealth was spent in procuring grain supplies. And the princes of the house o f Rurik ignored the north in favor o f the more populous and powerful cities o f the south.1*

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THE BALTIC CRUSADE

The lack o f grand ducal interest in Novgorod, compared to the care taken to secure the fam ily’s position in Suzdal, reflected the fact that the city— whose power was later indicated by its title. Lord Novgorod the Great—was technically independent after 1136. Laws w o e passed by the city council (Veche) and enforced by the duke and a mayor (Posadnik) elected by the boyars. By tradition the eldest son o f the grand duke governed Novgorod, but from 1182-1200 it was Vsevolod’s brother-in-law, Jaroslav. Attempting to rule autocratically through the faction o f boyars interested in Russian affairs, his policies w o e repeatedly frustrated by a hostile posadnik and those boyars who were more interested in western trade. When Jaroslav was replaced by Svjatoslav, Vsevolod’s three-yearold son, the situation hardly improved. The duke’s authority remained uncontested in the countryside, and since Novgorod could not defend itself or its interests without the Suzdalian troops available to the duke (or his rival) and his boyars, the question o f the city becoming a true republic never arose.19 Novgorod was one o f the largest cities in Europe. There was the archbishop’s quarter with the cathedral, at least fourteen monasteries, dozens o f churches, five distinct residential districts with subuibs, the rich mansions o f the boyars and wealthy merchants, the foreign quarter (S t Peter’s) for visiting merchants, and the central m arket The merchants were extremely influential in public affairs, since their taxes and tolls paid the costs o f government and defence, and their pious donations built and decorated the churches and monasteries. But the merchants were a heterogeneous group and the only guild seems to have been St. John’s, which was dominated by boyars who wished to keep a share o f the international trade and therefore bonded together to protect their rights. The bulk o f the urban population was made up of artisans who produced trade items for sale locally and overseas. In addition, there were some peasants and serfs who took whatever work they could find.20 Like other contemporary city-states in the west, Novgorod did not find it practical to call the Veche into session except for urgent matters; therefore, most business was transacted by a Senate (Soviet gospod) of selected representatives and the past and present posadniks, presided over by die archbishop. Pskov, die Russian city closest to Estonia, has generally been looked upon as a client state o f Novgorod, although it was never quite clear whether the status o f "younger brother" was a relationship with the city or the duke. A better description is that o f a "symbiosis of w eak» Pskov with a strong Novgorod." Sim ilar mercantile interests and the need to call upon the m ilitary aid of a strong dynasty caused their fates to intertwine during this era when momentous political changes were to occur.21 The Russians were Orthodox Christians, converted sufficiently recendy (like the Poles in the tenth century, but by Byzantine missionaries), that wide areas in the countryside remained basically pagan. Novgorod disturbed these non-Russian peoples litde, so long as they paid tribute. Religion was an ethnic identity, not an individual choice—as it remains today in many parts o f the world. Consequently, the Russians did not insist that the Letts, Estonians, Finns and Karelians abandon their pagan ways and become Orthodox Christians.22 In the

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eyes o f the western visitors, however, pagan and Orthodox practices were equally odious. The Roman Church wished to win over the Orthodox Russians to recognize the supremacy of the pope. There was also the m att»' o f the Latin rite versus the Orthodox, and the Roman disapproval o f married priests. Compromise was possible in these areas, but the W est was adamant about uniting a divided Christendom under the authority o f the pope and about the need to extirpate paganism as an evil remnant o f pre-Christian times. W hile the immediate objective was the conversion of the pagan tribes along the coast, Roman Catholic churchmen never lost sight of the more important Russian communities in the interior. Also, the Russians were competitors who might convert the pagans in Livonia and Estonia to the Orthodox faith. Already the natives there were tributary to Russian dukes in Pskov and Novgorod, and to the dukes in Polozk. Impelled by these motives (and by others pertaining to north German politics), the haste to send missionaries to the Baltic region became ever more noticeable during this period. The M issionaries Where the merchants lacked interest, the Church was willing to press matters, and where the two groups had common interests, something was bound to happen. When the secular powers in the Baltic were convinced that m ilitary support was necessary for the expansion o f trade and m issions, the result was the Baltic Crusade, a form o f medieval imperialism that was to exhibit many o f the characteristics, both good and evil, o f the European imperialism o f more modem times.23 That the missionary movement to Livonia eventually assumed an im perialist form should be no surprise. The Christian state often acted as the carrier o f the Christian religion by imposing the latter on newly conquered subjects, and even more often Christian rulers supported missions to neighboring lands as a means of extending their influence abroad. This type o f imperialism was not confined to secular nobles; archbishops also sponsored missionaries for motives that were as much secular as religious. Episcopal imperialism—bishops using the authority granted to them by the pope, first to lead missionaries, then to organize crusades, to create for themselves dioceses where none existed before—was to be an important aspect o f the mission to Livonia. Because o f their role in the conversion o f the Danes, the archbishops o f Hamburg-Bremen traditionally exercised great authority over Scandinavian affairs. But after they lost control o f the Scandinavian bishops to the archbishop of Lund, this was no longer true. When A rchbislpp Hartwig II heard o f the pagans of the eastern Baltic, he saw an opportunity to extend his authority over them. By creating a series o f suffragan bishoprics in Livonia and Estonia he hoped to replace his losses, and also to forestall expansion in that direction by Lund.24 Occasional western missionaries had been sent to Livonia before the latter part of the twelfth century, but their successes had always been short-lived. Even

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THE BALTIC CRUSADE

the best documented o f these heroic individual efforts, that of Fulco in Estonia around 1170, is poorly understood. Apparently, the efforts of the exiled archbishop of Lund, Eskil, and his French Benedictine hosts resulted in Fulco’s being formally named bishop of Estonia, but by 1172 the missionary had returned to Lund, having failed to persuade the native peoples to abandon their nature cults.2* The mission o f Archbishop Bruno o f Querfurt and eighteen monks ended in their death somewhere in Lithuania or its borderlands in 1009. W hile the Germans founded a monastery in Querfurt in honor of the archbishop, it was the Duke Boleslav who ransomed Bruno’s corpse and deposited it in the cathedral in Gniezno (Gnesen), thereby assisting in elevating this church in the eyes of Polish Christians above its competitors. Thus, it is clear that although Bruno was never officially declared a saint, Poles and G om ans alike considered him and his followers martyrs; both also feared the pagans to the east. The chronicler’s description o f the event was the first time a westerner articulated the name, "Lithuanian”.26 A sim ilar fate befell Adalbertus, a Bohemian prince who had taken holy orders. Sent by Pope Sylvester to convert the Prussians, he was martyred in 996. Boleslav recovered his body, too, and buried it in Gniezno. Subsequently, the pope raised the church to an archbishopric. The entire story was retold on the famous bronze doors o f the cathedral made in the 1170’s. The Orthodox Church made some impact on the natives’ paganism, but, even so, conversion was lim ited to the ruling classes o f tribes subject to Russian dukes. Consequently, the Lithuanians were more strongly influenced than the Letts and Livs who dwelt in modem Latvia, and these tribes were more affected than the western Estonians and Kurs. Some Letts were subject to Polozk, and the eastern Estonians paid tribute to Pskov. In all cases, conversion signified the political subordination o f the local nobles, not the adherence o f the entire populace to a new faith. It came as a great surprise to the first western missionaries that the Russians did not see Livonia as a special preserve for the Orthodox Church, but allowed the natives to choose whatever faith they wished to follow. The Russian rulers did, however, insist on being paid for permission to preach and surrendered neither any claim to sovereignty nor the right to revoke or modify the privileges they granted. Even so, Duke Vladimir was extremely generous in his first encounter with Roman Catholic missionaries and even sent M einhard gifts.27 The native beliefs are not easily studied, though scholars today understand them better than they did a generation ago. Local customs undoubtedly varied slightly from region to region, depending upon the degree that foreign ideas had interm ingled with the natural tendency o f all folk practices to evolve over tim e. W ithout much question, Scandinavian paganism, Russian Orthodox beliefs, and Roman Catholic concepts were all represented, but not all at the same tim e or in the same places. Equally without question is that native beliefs were expressed in seasonal ceremonies and celebrations, in a cult o f ancestors, and in the veneration o f nature spirits. The Baltic peoples were concerned with planting and harvesting, considered ancestors an enduring part o f the family circle, and worshipped their deities in holy woods.26

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M arija Gimbutas, an authority on Baltic religion and women in history, sees two distinct layers in the pre-Christian pantheon of Lithuania which was shared along the entire coastline. The first she calls Old European, before 2500-3000 BC, whose principal deities were females who took multiple forms. For example, a goddess could be a maiden, nymph or crone—representing birth, reproduction and death, and whose life-cycle reproduced the phases o f the moon. The goddess Laima (related perhaps to Diana in the Roman pantheon) was a prophetess and the giver o f life at birth to both humans and animals. Ragana was the goddess of destruction and rebirth, a malicious and dangerous deity; Germans would have recognized in her Frau Holle, Greeks the Gorgon. Other goddesses were concerned with fertility and regeneration: tem yna (M other Earth) was a northern Demeter worshipped by the practice o f kissing the ground meaning and evening. The introduction o f mille Indo-European gods produced a rich hybrid pantheon which was both pastoral and warlike. Dievas, the god o f heavenly light, represented the seasons. Together with Laima, he determined the length and quality o f human life just as he fixed die duration and strength of the sunlight which fell on the fields. Given die northern climate o f the Baltic, his ability to determine the amount o f daylight made him an important god, indeed. He was celebrated on St. John’s Day (June 24), the summer solstice, and at other holidays marked by the astrological calendar. Perkunas was the god o f thunder and lightning, who purified and watered the earth. Germans would have identified him with Thor. His death enemy, to make a pun, was Velinas, ruler of the night, o f anger and o f madness. Velinas was a devil, the opposite o f Dievas, and constantly fought with Perkunas for supremacy. There were some temples for the main gods, perhaps even chief priests, but the sacred groves, trees, and rivers were much more important. In sylvan glades, like those into which the Druids retreated, pagan priests conducted cerem onies and retold the myths that gave meaning to life in an environment which could be cold and harsh, warm and pleasant, brutal and ugly, loving and fair— depending on the season and the fate Dievas and Laima foretold.29 There was also an elaborate cult o f the dead, surrounded by cerem onies and taboos: the one which particularly offended Christians was the offering o f food at the burial sites. This custom, seeking oracular guidance, and consulting "witches” remained a part o f rural custom into the twentieth century.30 W hat is less clear is the modem assumption that the Baltic peoples’ basically democratic, peaceful, and hospitable cultures put them on a morally superior level when compared to the more dynamic culture approaching from the west. A belief that man should conform to nature rather than dominate it has its attractive features, but it can also easily condition its adherents to accept a low standard of living and technological backwardness. Completely misleading is any suggestion that the Baltic peoples did not indulge in, did not profit from , or did not enjoy, warfare.31 Maritime Estonians, U vs, and Kurs were well-known pirates, and the Lithuanians already enjoyed a reputation for terrorizing nearby peoples. Baltic society may have been less dynamic, less prone either to rapid evolution or catastrophic dissolution than contemporary Scandinavia, Germany,

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and Russia, but it did not provide an exception to the normal rules o f human behavior. This society was not prone to sudden change, but change had to come once Scandinavian and German merchants discovered that the inhabitants of the eastern Baltic shore were eager to purchase iron tools and wool cloth. Then, in 1180 an Augustinian friar named Meinhard visited the Daugava (Dvina) basin: He came to Livonia with a band o f merchants simply for the sake of C hrist and only to preach. For German merchants, bound together through fam iliarity with the Livonians, were accustomed to go to Livonia, frequently sailing up the Dvina River. After receiving, therefore, the permission of King Vladimir o f Polozk, to whom the Livonians, while still pagan, paid tribute, and, at the same time, after receiving gifts from him, this priest boldly set out upon the divine work, preaching to the Livonians and building a church in the village o f UexkQll.... The next winter, the Lithuanians, after having laid waste Livonia, took many into captivity. The same preacher, together with the people o f Uexkiill, avoided the wrath o f the Lithuanians and took to the forests. When the Lithuanians had withdrawn, M einhard accused the Livonians o f foolishness, because they had no fortifications; he promised them that forts would be built if they decided to become and be considered sons o f God. This pleased them and they promised and confirmed by an oath that they would receive baptism.32 Thus occurred the most important decision in Livonian history, that o f a sm all band o f Livs to undergo baptism in return for protection from hereditary enemies. The next year, 1181, stonemasons from Gotland built two stone castles on islands in the Daugava River. Both Uexkiill and Holm, as they w o e named, were easily defensible and easily accessible to merchants from the west. It was only after the completion o f the castles, however, that Meinhard informed the natives that he expected them to pay taxes for the upkeep o f the castles and the maintenance o f the church. O r perhaps he had told them earlier but they had taken it as an outlandish joke by a stranger. W hatever the reason, M einhard gained few new converts to his small following. Nevertheless, he had sufficient success that Hartwig II of Bremen consecrated him bishop o f Uexkiill in 1186 and sent priests to aid him. Forem ost among the new missionaries was Theodoric, a Cistercian monk from Loccum, a monastery near Hannover. Quite possibly young Theodoric was among the monks who had been sent to the new abbey at Reinfeld in Holstein in 1186, the same year that Meinhard returned to Germany for his investiture. The Ahgustinian monastery at Segeberg was less than ten miles from the Cistercian foundation at Reinfeld, and undoubtedly Meinhard visited both Segeberg and Reinfeld in hope o f recruiting assistants. W ith his abbot’s permission, Theodoric sailed east with Meinhard to take up the difficult responsibilities o f a missionary to the pagans, an event o f far-reaching consequence. The Augustinian mission was now augmented, and eventually

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

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superseded, by a more m ilitant and aggressive religious order. God’s acres would not just be sown but would be plowed, tilled, and reaped. The austere spirit of Saint B onard came to Livonia with Theodoric, and through Theodoric it dominated the ensuing thirty years o f Livonian history.33 The arrival of Cistercian missionaries created one problem M einhard may not have anticipated—a dispute over which clerical garb should be wom. The natives were accustomed to the black robes o f Orthodox priests. Meinhard him self, following the tradition of the Augustine rule, wore white, and Theodoric, a Cistercian, wore grey; the native spokesmen asked repeatedly if the different garb did not signify that they were representing different gods—a question of considerable importance to pagans, and, given the disputes between Roman and Orthodox Christians, not an easy query to answer. M oreover, the various Roman Catholic orders placed great weight on the symbolism of their garments—the Cluniac and Cistercian monks wrangled fiercely over whose clothing was standard and whose was "irregular." To this was added the great difficulty of maintaining an acceptable level o f cleanliness—the frontier did not provide the laundry facilities of a monastery. As a result, when monks were asked to approve a priest’s request to preach the word o f God among the heathen, they thought seriously about the reputation o f their order, represented as it would be by a solitary individual who would certainly find it difficult to say the prayers at the required intervals, would not be able to live on the approved diet, and would most likely end up looking like a beggar or wearing a strange o r even an unchristian h abit Then they would ask, if the priest had entered the convent to escape the temptations and trials o f the world, why would he ever want to go out in it alone to the pagans?34 Theodoric and several unnamed fellows sought new fields for missionary work. He him self went to the Liv community at Treiden, more to the north, where he settled and raised his own food. However, his farming practices were so superior to the natives’ techniques that he narrowly escaped being sacrificed to their gods: Because the crops in his fields were quite abundant and the crops in their own fields were dying because of a flooding rain, the Livonians o f Treiden prepared to sacrifice him to their gods. The people were collected and the will of the gods regarding the sacrifice was sought after by lo t A lance was placed in position and the horse came up and, at the signal o f God, put out the foot thought to be the foot o f life. Brother Theodoric prayed aloud and gave blessings with his hand. The pagan priest asserted that the Christian God was sitting on the back o f the horse and was moving the horse’s foot forward; that for this reason the back o f the horse had to be wiped off so that God might slide off. When this was done, the horse again put forth the foot of life, as before, and Brother Theodoric’s life was saved. When Brother Theodoric was sent into Estonia, he likewise endured from the pagans a great many dangers to his life.33

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Elsewhere the natives were satisfied with their traditional gods and, not thinking the missionaries dangerous, allowed them to preach without harassment until they began to make converts. Once the Christian priests began to demand the payment o f a tithe and threatened the use o f force to collect it, their attitude changed. Abandoning their skeptical tolerance, the Livs began to look upon the missionaries and their converts as a dangerous and subversive element. There can be no doubt that missionaries threatened the traditional mode of life in Livonia. If Bishop Meinhard had only to maintain him self and a sm all number o f priests, the voluntary tithes and taxes from his flock might have sufficed. But he also maintained castles with the garrisons and wanted to build proper churches. Meinhard had assumed these expenses at the request o f the entire population (as represented by the elders). However, only those who had accepted Christianity were obliged to pay the tax. This threw him on the horns o f a dilemma. He either had to increase die number o f converts or coerce everyone to live up to what he understood the original bargain to be. The former solution was impractical: if the financial burden o f Christianity was such as to discourage converts, there was little hope o f converting those who considered tax exemptions important; in this case, it was to die Livs* financial advantage to remain pagan. On the other hand, if Meinhard abandoned the castles and returned to a simple mission supported by foreign funds, he could not offer the m ilitary protection that would induce the remaining tribes to become converts. As he saw it, the problem was simple: he had promised protection which only soldiers and castles could provide, and the money required to build fortifications and hire garrisons was supposed to be provided by the converts. The solution was equally simple: the natives should live up to their bargain and submit to baptism. Unfortunately for M einhard, the natives had no wish to place themselves under his authority or to pay his taxes. A few probably saw that, in the end, M einhard would be dominant in the political as well as in the religious life o f the community, and indeed Meinhard could not deny this. His object was to establish an ecclesiastical system sim ilar to that in western Europe. Fundamentally, the issue was power, though few—perhaps not even M einhard—understood this fully. They argued about taxes when the real issue was one o f authority. Each side put religion at the center of life, each firmly believed in what we today consider superstitions, and each would have been horrified by modem secularist concepts o f reason and tolerance. The implications o f Meinhard’s position became clearer to the native elders when he threatened compulsory conversion. They did not worry as long as he had no army, but knowing that he might raise a mercenary force abroad, the elders forbade him to leave the country. They left him freedom to travel and to preach and did not object to his governing and taxing those who subm itted to him freel^, but they would not allow him to coerce anyone into the Church or to connive with foreigners against their independence. The suspicions o f the natives were confirmed when Theodoric slipped out of the country and journeyed to Rome to ask for papal assistance. As Theodoric had hoped, the supreme pontiff approved the use of force against the Livs, and he returned north to raise an army on Gotland. He expected a quick success

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

39

because it appeared that the interests o f the merchants and the Church coincided, but in fact the merchants were much more interested in punishing pirates than in assisting an elderly bishop in an armed campaign against good customers. The result was a travesty o f die crusading idea. The expedition was well-planned. Theodoric raised an army from among the German and Scandinavian merchants and persuaded the duke o f Sweden to accompany them. They planned to sail to Kurland and punish some notorious pirates and then to proceed to the Daugava basin. The plan was good, but its execution was poor, and the expedition went astray at the very beginning. Shortly after leaving Visby, the fleet encountered bad weather, so that it made landfall not in Kurland but in Estonia, where the army decided that one tribe was as suitable a victim as another and behaved like a band o f freebooters. Theodoric was able to bring an end to the fighting and to begin negotiations with the elders for the acceptance of Christianity, but the discussions were barely under way when the duke o f Sweden sailed home, taking most o f the army with him. To his chagrin, Theodoric learned that the duke had been interested only in exacting tribute from the natives and, once it was collected, had no further interest in the expedition. The few serious crusaders who remained behind could entertain no hope of assisting Bishop Meinhard. As a result o f the duke’s defection, the army immediately disbanded and returned to Gotland. Bishop M einhard, disappointed by die outcome o f the expedition, died soon afterward (in 1196), leaving an empty title and a pitifully small number of converts to Christianity.36 W ith him died the effort at a peaceful conversion. However, his ideal did not perish: our principal source for the history o f this era. The Chronicle o f Henry o f Livonia, was written about three decades later to admonish the German and Danish rulers to govern the converts to Christianity jusdy and mildly. Like the Spanish churchmen in the New W orld three centuries later, in their effort to reform behavior and protect the native peoples German churchmen would provide contemporaries and later generations alike with the stories o f misconduct and cruelty that molded the stereotype o f the evil crusader (God knows they were bad enough without exaggerating!). The Spanish Legenda Negra is paralleled by a Baltic counterpart.37

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THE BALTIC CRUSADE ENDNOTES

1. Anatol Lieven, The Baltic Revolution. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Path to Independence (New Haven and London: Yale, 1993) opens his narrative with an eloquent description o f the forests and their impact on the native culture. 2. Adam o f Bremen, History o f the Archbishops o f Hamburg-Bremen, Irans. Francis J. Tschan (New Yoifc Columbia University Press, 1959), 197-198. Swedish authority over the coastal regions dates back to the Varangian era, when Vikings regularly sailed the rivers to the Black Sea and Byzantium. Some historians attribute the foundation o f the Russian state to these energetic barbarians. By the time o f Adam o f Bremen, however, only distant memories o f ancient greatness remained. Even the geography is incorrect. Courland (Kurland) is not an island, nor are there any Amazons. 3. Tote Nyberg says that this was so universal that we should be skeptical about locating ancient people on the basis o f chroniclers’ accounts. "Skandinavien und die Christianisierung des südöstlichen Baltikums,” La Cristianizzaziqne della U tuania (ed. Paulius Rabikauskas. Vatican City: Vaticana, 1989) [Atti e Documenti, 2], 236-237. 4. lAvländische Reimchronik, 2d. ed, ed. Leo M ayer (Hildesheim: George Olms, 1963), lines 322-377 (hereafter cited as Reimchronik). The translation into English was done by Jerry C. Smith and William Urban, The Livonian Rhymed Chronicle (Bloomington: Indiana University Publications, 1977 [Uralic and Altaic Series, vol. 128]), 5-6. 5. Evald Tönission, Die Gauja-Uven und ihre materielle Kultur (Tallinn: Eesti Raam at, 1974), 9-14,184-186. 6. Enn Tarvel, "Gesellschaftstruktur in Estland zu Beginn des 13. Jahrhunderts," FeodaTnii Krestyanin v vostochnoi i sevem oi evrope. Sbornik statei [The Feudal Peasant in eastern and northern Europe] (Tallinn: Academy o f Sciences, 1983), 149-159; Juri Selirand and E. Tönisson, Through Past M illenia, Archeological Discoveries in Estonia (Tallinn: Perioodika, 1984), 116-119, 127; Harri M oora and Anton Viires, Abriss der estnischen Volkskunde (Tallinn, 1964), 34-36; Herbert Ligi, Talupoegade Koormised Eestis [Feudal duties o f the Estonian peasants] (Tallinn: Paamat, 1968), German summary, 298-300. 7. Arturas M ickevicius, "Curonian Society within the Context o f Viking and Early Medieval Scandinavia," Towards a New History in the Baltic Republics (Gothenburg, Sweden, 1993), 45-57; Tönission, Die Gauja-Uven, 188; note also the excellent survey of Prussian and Jatwigian prehistory in Historia Pomorza, I (ed. Marian Biskup et al. Poznafi: Wydawnictwo Poznariskie, 1972). 8. See M anfred Hellmann, Das Lettenland im M ittelalter: Studien zur ostbaldkchen Frühzeit und lettischen Stammesgeschichte, insbesonders Lettgallens (M ünster: Böhlau, 1954), Reinhard Wittram, Baltische Geschichte; die Ostseelande, Livland, Estland, Kurland: 1180-1918 (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 1954), and C. Engel and A. Brackmann, Baltische Lande, Vol. I o f Ostbaltische Frühzeit (Leipzig: S. Hirsel, 1939); M arija Gimbutas, The Balts (New York:

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

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Praegei, 1963); W ilhelm Mannhardt, Letto-Preussische Götterlehre (Riga: Lettish-Literärische Gesellschaft, 1963); Ivar Paulson, "Alt-estnische Volks­ religion," Commentationes Balticae, 12-13,4 (1976), 205-49; Ëvalds MugurëviCs, "KrisSgâs Ticïbas Latvijas Teritorija 11-12. Gs. un Katolu Basnlcas Ekspansijas Säkums," Vestis [Latvian Academy o f Science], 5(1987), 10-27. 9. The Chronicle o f Henry o f Livonia, trans. James A. Brundage (M adison: University of W isconsin Press, 1961), 49 (hereafter cited as Henry o f Livonia). I have chosen this translation over the Latin edition o f Leonid Arbusow and Albert Bauer, Heinrici Chronicon Livontae (2nd ed. Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1950), because of the numerous quotations I wish to present in English. 10. Henry o f Livonia, 90-91; M ichal Giedroyé notes in "The Arrival of Christianity in Lithuania: Early Contacts (Thirteenth Century)," Oxford Slavonic Papers, 18 (1985) [New Series, XVIII], 7, that the Lithuanians under Ringaudas were potentially capable o f challenging the Germans but were not yet aware o f their own strength. Henryk Paszkiewicz, The Origin o f Russia (London: Allen & Unwin, 1954), 185-187,192, for the Lithuanians’ evil reputation in this era. 11. M ichal Giedroyé, "The Rulers o f Thirteenth Century Lithuania: a Search for the Origins o f Grand Duke Traidenis and his Kin," Oxford Slavonic Papers, 17 (1984), 1-9. 12. Jacob Ozols, "Die vor- und frühgeschichtlichen Burgen Semgallens," Commentationes Balticae, 14/15 (Bonn: Baltisches Forschungsinstitut, 1971), 107-213; F. Balodis, "Die Burgberge Lettlands,” Studi Baltici 8 (1941-1942), 4691; for sim ilar fortifications throughout Europe, Robert Higham and Philip Barker, Timber Castles (London: Batsford, 1993). 13. Paszkiewicz, The Origin o f Russia, 193-94; S. C. Rowell, "Between Lithuania and Rus’: Dovmont-Timofey o f Pskov, his Life and Cult," Oxford Slavonic Papers, (1992), 4; Hellmann, Das Lettenland im M ittelalter, 6 5 ,145-

MS. 14. Gert Hartz, and Aikodi Molvogin, Visby Colloquium des Hansischen Geschichtsverein (Köln: Böhlau, 1987), 67-81, 83-98; A. K. Vassar and Enn Tarvel, "Itämeren itäosassa asuvien heimojen taistelu Saksalais-Skandinaavista agressiota vastaan 12. ja 13. vuosisadalla" [the struggle of eastern Baltic tribes against Getman-Scandinavian aggression in the 12th and 13th centuries], Eripalnos, 69(1975), 6-27, with English summary, 27-29; From Viking to Crusader. The Scandinavians and Europe 800-1200. (Ed. Else Roesdahl and David W ilson. New York: Rizzoli, 1992), 74-81. 15. Bartlett, Malang o f Europe, 254-260. 16. John Fennell, The Crisis o f M edieval Russia 1200-1304 (London and New York: Longman, 1983), 1-12,22-34. 17. Jerzy Ochmaifski, "The Eastern Lithuanian Ethnic Boundary," Eastern Lithuania, A collection o f Historical and Ethnographic Studies, (ed. Algirdas Budreckis. Chicago: M orkünas, 1985), 115-133; and Paszkiewicz, Origin o f Russia, 188-89; Fennell, Crisis o f M edieval Russia, 16-17,20-21, states that the

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THE BALTIC CRUSADE

granù duke had lost control o f this region by 1200, but believes that Lithuanian influence becomes dominant only later. 18. Fennell, The Crisis o f Medieval Russia, 22-40. 19. Fennell, The Crisis o f Medieval Russia, 51-52, 57-58. 20. Hinrik Birnbaum, Lord Novgorod the Great (Los Angeles, 1981) [UCLA Slavic Studies, 2]; for archeology see B.A. Kolchin and V i . Yanin, Novgorodskii Sbornik (Moscow: Nauka, 1982); From Viking to Crusader, 82-83. 21. Rowell, "Dovmont-Timofey," 1-3; Fennell emphasizes strongly Novgorod’s appointm ent o f the posadnik as evidence that city strictly supervised Pskov’s self-government. Crisis o f Medieval Russia, 17. 22. Paszkiewicz, The Making o f the Russian Nation (London: Daiton, Longman & Todd, 1963), 45-47, 317. 23. Bartlett, Making o f Europe, 15-8, 260-264, 295-297, 306-314. 24. The Archbishops o f Hamburg-Bremen had led the missionary effort to Scandinavia since the time o f Saint Ansgar (831-865). From Viking to Crusader, 152-161. Under Archbishop Adalbert (1043-1072), Bremen seemed as powerful as a second Rome, but during the Investiture Controversy the northern bishoprics were taken away. Sweden was lost in 1104 beyond recovery, but Norway m ight still be won back. Georg Gottfried Dehio, Hartwick von Stade, Erzbischof von Hamburg-Bremen (Bremen: Diereksen & W ichlein, 1872), 30-32. See the excellent essays (some in English) in Gli Inizi del Cristianesimo in U voniaLettonia, and Tore Nyberg, "Deutsche, dänische und schwedische Christianisierungsversuche östlich der Ostsee im Geiste des 2. und 3. Kreuzzüges,” Die Rolle der Ritterordem in der Christianisierung des Ostseegebietes (ed. Zenon Nowak. Torun: Nicolaus Copernicus University, 1983 [Colloquia Torunensia Historica 1]), 93-114; and James Addison, The M edieval M issionary. A Study o f the Conversion o f Northern Europe A D . 55-1300 (New York and London: International Missionary CouncU, 1936). Archeologist Ëvalds M uguitviCs notes that although historians have speculated about the existence o f a Scandinavian bishopric in Kurland, there is as yet no m aterial evidence for one. "Skandinavische Geschichtsquellen des 9. bis 12. Jh. und archäologische Befunde auf dem Territorium Lettlands," Studia Baltica Stockholmiensia, 9(1992), 130; Nyberg, "Skandinavien,” 237-243. 25. Arthur Vööbus, Studies in the History c f the Estonian People (Stockholm: Etse, 1969), I, 27-34; Nyberg, "Skandinavien,” 237-243; Peter Rebane, "Denmark, the Papacy, and the Christianization of Estonia," and Edgar Anderson, "Early Danish M issionaries in the Baltic Countries,” Gli inizi del cristianesimo, 171-178, 245-275. 26. M anfred Hellmann, "Die Päpste und Litauen," La Christianizzazione della Lituania, 28-29. 27. M anfred Hellmann, "Bischof Meinhard und die Eigenart der kirchlichen Organisation in den baltischen Ländern," Gli inizi del crisianesimo in LivoniaLettonia, 20-21; M ichele Maccarone, "I papi e gli inizi della cristianizzazione della Livonia," Ibid., 32; Norbert Angermann, "Meinhard, der Apostel Livland," Arbeitshilfe, 51(1986).

Livonia on the Eve o f the Invasions

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28. Estnische Volksbräuche (Tallinn: Perioodika, 1991); Ivar Paulson, "Altestnische Volksreligion," Commentationes Balticae, 12-13/4(Bonn: Baltisches Forschungsinstitut, 1967); archeological studies o f pagan life are m ultiplying rapidly. Often these have excellent illustrations and photos of artifacts. See, for example, the catalog Rigas Arheolo&ija 50 (Riga: Rigas vëstures un kugniecibas m uzejs, 1988). 29. M arija Gimbutas, "The Pre-Christian Religion o f Lithuania," La Cristianizzazione della U tuania, 13-25; Algirdas J. Greimas, O f Gods and Men. Studies in Lithuanian M ythology (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1992). These modem studies of the roots of the Baltic peoples and their religion differ sharply from the more traditional western accounts of Indo-Europeans migrating from an eastern European homeland; instead they located the center o f the diaspora much further south and east. Jaan Puhvel, "Indo-European Prehistory and Myth,” Yearbook o f the Estonian Learned Society in America, IV (1964-1967), 51-62. 30. Nina Taylor, "The Folklore Origin o f M ickiewicz’s Dziady: Olim pia Swianiewiczowa’s Intepretation," Oxford Slavonic Papers, 22 (1990), 39-60. 31. Vööbus is the most prominent o f die exile scholars who saw nothing but good in native life, little but evil in the conquering peoples. According to him-and he was a good scholar with an excellent command of the sources-the Estonians had no desire for war or conquest Studies, 1 ,13. 32. Henry o f Livonia, 25-26; Norbert Angerman, "Meinhard, der Apostel Livlands,” Arbeitshilfe, 51 (1986), 1-18. 33. Friedrich Benninghoven, Der Orden der Schwertbrüder (Cologne-Graz: Böhlau, 1965), 20-23; papal encouragement o f the missionaries came in 1190. Urkundenbuch, III, no. 10a. 34. Maccarone, "I papi," 45-47,64-65. 35. Henry o f Livonia, 27-28; Constance Brittain Bouchard, Holy Entrepreneurs. Cistercians, Knights, and Economic Exchange in Twelfth-Century Burgundy (Ithaca: Cornell, 1991), 21,189, emphasizes the Cistercians’ willingness to found monasteries in obscure locations and their enthusiasm for economic activity; Bemhart Jähnig, "Zisterzienser und Ritterorden zwischen geistlicher und weltlicher Macht in Livland und Preußen zu Beginn der M issionszeit," Die Ritterorden zwischen geistlicher und weltlicher Macht im M ittelalter (ed. Zenon Hubert Nowak. Toruii: Nicolaus Copernicus University, 1990) [Colloquia Torunensia Historica V), 75, 83. 36. Henry o f Livonia, 28-30; papal approval o f the mission was dated 27 April 1193. liv -. Est-, und Kurländisches Urkundenbuch, ed. Friedrich Georg von Bunge (Riga and Reval: 1857-1875), Vol. I, document 11 (hereafter cited as Urkundenbuch). y i. Denunciations o f the behavior o f Columbus and Cortés can be easily applied to the Baltic Crusade,*with the exception o f seeking gold and importing foreign slaves. M agnus M ömer, "The Baltic Republics—Some Comparative Historical Perspectives," Toward a New History in the Baltic Republics, 27-30.

THE ORGANIZATION OF THE BALTIC CRUSADE

The mission to the eastern Baltic began during a period o f great upheaval in Germany. There were bitter civil wars, each complicated by papal intervention and recurring calls for crusaders to the Holy Land. There was also an economic vitality, marked by the increase in the population and the spread o f foreign commerce. Intellectual and spiritual greatness existed there, too, though other cultures eventually profited most from these qualities. And, not to be overlooked was a rapid development o f military technology. In short, because o f political failures, what would otherwise had been a period of greatness became no m ore than an era of economic progress. The Baltic Crusade, caught in the maelstrom o f politics, was assured of some success because o f the general current o f the times and the weakness o f its victims, but its progress depended upon the state of affairs in Germany and Scandinavia.1 Meinhard had failed in his mission to Livonia because he lacked the m ilitary might to crush the natives. It was obvious to practical men o f that period that force was the only means for the speedy, baptism of the populace, and m ost Christians agreed that—for both spiritual and financial reasons—baptism was absolutely necessary for every individual. Many Germans and Scandinavians, and some Slavs, too, were willing to earn eternal life by participating in a m ilitary expedition to "protect" the Livonian Church, but because o f the political situation at any one time they were not always available for service abroad. Therefore, M einhard’s successors had to take advantage of the occasions which favored m ilitary intervention in the east, and through a combination o f wits and luck somehow survive the less propitious periods. Civil W ar In G erm any For seven years the Emperor Heinrich VI had ruled with a strong and heavy hand; though making many enemies in the process, he had reestablished imperial prestige. He had also made constitutional innovations, especially in the naming o f a group o f electors whose purpose would be to choose the emperor. This body was neither well-defined nor universally accepted when his sudden death in 1197 left a three-year-old son heir to the throne. His enemies saw the new electorial process as a means o f undoing the work that Heinrich and his father, Frederick Barbarossa, had accomplished. The Hohenstaufen party in Germany played right into their hands by nominating as his successor Heinrich’s brother Philip rather than his young son. This elevation o f practical considerations above legitimacy created a legal conundrum perfectly suited to those who hoped to take advantage of the crisis for their own purposes.2 Because strong emperors tended to exert a great deal o f influence in Italy, the interests of the papacy seemed to lie in keeping Germany weak. Certainly the new pope. Innocent III, believed that Heinrich VI had been too dangerous. As Innocent saw it. Pope Celestine had tried to bring together the interests o f papacy and empire in areas o f irreconcilable conflicts, and Heinrich had succeeded in encircling the Papal States, a situation that threatened the independence of the papacy. Innocent saw the separation of Sicily from the Holy Roman Empire as a bare minimum for papal safety, and he was determined to accomplish this in

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any way necessary. Brilliant, ambitious, and forceful, and often considered the greatest of the medieval popes, he saw this crisis o f succession as a God-given opportunity to rescue the papacy from the Hohenstaufens. If this had been his sole concern, however, the medieval papacy might have developed in other directions than it did. Not only was he determined to free the Papal States from the danger o f secular domination, he was also intent on extending papal influence across Europe, so that all important issues would ultim ately be decided by the pope. Therefore, even had the German emperor been willing to give up his rights in Italy, he would still have come into conflict with the pope. As the strongest ruler in Europe, the emperor would have to face the papal challenge most squarely. The interests of the English monarch also conflicted with im perial am bitions. Richard the Lionheart saw the members of his Angevin family being dispossessed by the Hohenstaufen emperors. He could not ignore the appeals for aid by the adherents of the W elf party in Germany and by the Normans in Sicily in the name of his sisters Matilda and Johanna, though perhaps he should have. Richard was not a wise king, but he was proud and chivalrous. For that reason he generously gave aid to the W elfs, and he encouraged the Sicilians; and such was his hatred for the Hohenstaufens that while on crusade, he resisted no opportunity to insult their followers. But Richard also had another motive for mixing in German affairs: Philip Augustus, the Capetian monarch o f France. Although Richard had greater resources than his opponent, he could not easily bring them to the defense of Normandy, which led him to foresee the loss o f the province unless the Welfs joined him in an effort to utterly overthrow the French king (as came to pass in 1215 at the Battle o f Bouvines). However, under the present circumstances neither Richard nor the Welfs could be o f much use to one another. Nevertheless, they were all reluctant to abandon the sweet illusion that fam ily solidarity and mutual interests were sufficient to overcome every hazard, even the great distances which lay between them. Supported both covertly and openly by Pope Celestine III and King Richard, the archbishop of Cologne rallied the scattered adherents of the W elf cause to the support of Otto, the youngest son o f Henry the Lion and also Richard’s nephew. Provided liberally with English silver, the archbishop was able to bribe many undecided nobles and churchmen to attend a large assembly of princes willing to make Otto German king and emperor-elect, an ambition he achieved in the early spring of 1198.3 Because there were two candidates for the imperial throne, each elected by a large number o f secular and ecclesiastical rulers and each crowned with pomp and ceremony but neither having clear title, it remained for the pope to choose between them. But the new pope. Innocent III, was in no hurry. He delayed^) making the decision, pointing out irregularities in each election and coronation, and bided his time. There had been procedural errors in each case, but these were o f less importance than the concessions he intended to obtain from the candidates. In particular, he wanted a promise to sever the connection between the Holy Roman Empire and the kingdom of Sicily. If this—and more—were not forthcoming, a short civil war in Germany would not harm the

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cause o f the papacy. Innocent III was not a pope to stand by and wring his hands; he was determined to take measures to force concessions from every monarch in Europe. Germany was a good place to begin, and the disputed election was a good excuse. Innocent played his role of impartial judge very cleverly. By not revealing his strategy to his enemies, he kept them in suspense as to which candidate he would support; in any case, he knew that an immediate declaration would have been ineffective because neither side would abandon its cause until its candidate had been struck down by a mailed fist. W hile quietly watching events unfold, he solidified his own position inside the Church. Meanwhile, in the summer o f 1198 the Hohenstaufens and Capetians formed an alliance against the W elfs and Angevins, and each German party sought to buy as many supporters as its foreign money would allow. The chronicler Albert o f Stade remarked laconically; "Philip and Otto fought bravely against one another to the great harm o f the Empire. Richard, King o f England, supported his nephew Otto with money."4 The outbreak o f civil war in the Holy Roman Empire, and Richard’s repeated insults, prompted the German crusaders in the Holy Land to return home as quickly as possible. Among them was an ambitious prelate: Hartwig, the archbishop o f Bremen, sailed from the Holy Land to Venice and went from there to Bremen. He brought with him relics o f the holy Anna and the sword o f Peter, the one with which he had struck off the ear of Malchus. The pilgrims return ’d as a result o f the death of the emperor, after they had made a truce with the Saracens.5

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W hen Hartwig returned to Europe his first impression was that a Hohenstaufen victory was inevitable, and in May 1199 he joined with other prelates in writing the pope on behalf o f Philip.6 As he proceeded north, however, he found the W elf strength so formidable that by the time he reached Bremen he was wavering in his resolve. Nevertheless, he sent troops to support the count o f Holstein against the Danes.7 A dolf o f Holstein found the situation extremely serious. Although his domains had not experienced disorder or invasion, he was surrounded by W elf o r Danish vassals and allies, and though he could call upon aid from Hohenstaufen-inclined princes for the time being, he could not expect much help later if those rulers felt threatened by attack themselves. He had chosen sides, but, like most princes of the area, his loyalties were prim arily to him self, and—like the others—he hoped the fighting in the Rhineland would be decisive, one way or the other. Bishop B erthold’s M ission to Livonia It was during this period, in the midst o f this uproar, that the m ission to Livonia was converted into a crusading venture. In 1197, before his departure to the Holy Land, Archbishop Hartwig had invested Berthold, the Cistercian abbot o f Loccum, as bishop o f Uexkiill. The younger son o f a m inisteriale family which had colonized the swamps along die Elbe River at Altes Land, he was fam iliar with many o f the noble families o f the region and com plexities o f local politics. Berthold accepted his new duties grudgingly, perhaps displeased that Hartwig had been stripping the land o f soldiers for his own crusade, perhaps displeased at being taken from his quiet duties and sent into the whirlpool o f war and politics. That meant that Berthold’s first venture into Livonia would have only minimal m ilitary support.8 He went to Livonia, came to Uexktill, took over the patrimony o f the church, and gathered into his presence all o f the more im portant Livonians, both Christian and pagan. He strove to please them with food, drink, and gifts, and said that he came at their invitation and that he had succeeded his predecessor as sole heir. They received him cordially at first, but at the consecration o f the cemetery at Holm,9 some conspired to bum him in the church, others to kill him, and others to drown him. They charged that he came because he was poor. After considering this beginning, he went secretly to the ships and back to Gotland and on to Saxony. He bewailed both to the lord pope and to the bishop, as well as to a ll the faithful o f Christ, the ruin of the church o f Livonia. The lord pope, therefore, granted remission of sins to all those who should take the cross and arm themselves against the perfidious Livonians.10

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Berthold returned to Livonia in July o f 1198 with an army. The Livs gathered their forces opposite the Christians, and though they were unwilling to submit to mass baptism , they offered to allow Berthold to stay in the land to compel his converts to remain faithful; but he would be allowed only to persuade, not force, others to believe in Christ. This was not sufficient for Berthold. When the natives refused his demand for hostages, and killed several German foragers, he ordered an attack. His army was not large, but it was well equipped. He not only had heavy cavalry, armored knights on warhorses which easily overthrew the small Baltic ponies that failed to move out o f their relentless path, but he also had infantry armed with crossbows, pikes, billhooks, and halberds, as well as protected by iron armor and leather garments.11 By comparison, the Liv forces were practically unarmed. Moreover, they were not particularly numerous and their m ilitary tradition was one o f perceiving a predictable d efeat As the western proverb put it, discretion was the better part o f valor. Ironically, Berthold was almost the only Christian casualty. Although the Saxon knights quickly routed the native units, Beithold’s horse bolted, carrying him into the enemy’s ranks among the sand dunes, where he was cut down before rescuers could reach him. After taking a terrible revenge for his death, the crusaders left sm all garrisons in the castles and sailed home.12 The clergy and one ship o f merchants remained. Now the wind filled the sails, and lo! tire treacherous Livonians, emerging from their customary baths, poured water of the [Daugava] River over themselves, saying: ”We now remove the water o f baptism and Christianity itself with the water o f the river. Scrubbing off the faith we have received, we send it after the withdrawing Saxons."13 Soon afterward the monks were attacked. Unable to go into the fields, they saw their crops perish from neglect. Then, hearing that death had been decreed for any priest who remained in the land past Easter, the frightened clergy fled back to Saxony. This episode made it clear that occasional expeditions were inadequate to the task o f subduing the pagans in Livonia, and it was equally plain that it would be a great task to raise a large force for long-term service abroad from a divided and disorderly Germany. When Archbishop Hartwig II looked about for a suitable successor to the martyred Berthold, he looked first among his own relatives, because ties of blood and marriage were even more important in those troubled days than usual. His choice was his nephew, Albert von Buxhoevden, who was a canon in the Bremen Church. The selection was sensible, and nepotism provided no argument against him in those days, but rather in his favor. The close relationship between the archbishopric and the crusade was now reinforced by family ties>and young Albert became bishop o f Uexkiill with the blessing o f the Church.14

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Bishop A lbert’s C rusade Because the crusade was so dependent upon the archbishop, its success was largely determined by the fortune o f archiépiscopal politics, which in turn, were determined by the W elf-Hohenstaufen struggle t o the im perial crown. A t first all went well t o the archbishop. By driving a hard bargain for his support o f the count o f Holstein against the Danes, he recovered Stade, a fortress on the left bank o f the Elbe, standing on the only high ground between Hamburg and Bremen. Stade also controlled traffic on the Elbe and was the center o f an area o f rich bottomland filled with crops o f grain and fruit; moreover, its name was associated with ancient claims to the entire lower Elbe region. For decades the archbishops had striven to recover Stade—the essential first step to the recovery o f archiépiscopal power such as his distant predecessors had enjoyed. This, in turn, mean that Hartwig’s support o f the Baltic Crusade could be interpreted as a reassertion o f Hamburg-Bremen’s traditional role as a m issionary center. The most important man in the north was not the archbishop, however, but King Canute o f Denmark. Guided by his brother W aldemar, the sickly monarch advanced Danish banners in several directions at once. He exhausted Count A dolf o f Holstein simply by concentrating a number of knights along the frontier and forcing him to employ expensive countermeasures. He drove the Brandenburg duke out o f Pomerania and so it an expedition to Estonia (of which we know too little). It was not an overtly aggressive policy; the Danes threatened here, then there, and day by day wore down their opponents without having to commit themselves in the W elf-Hohenstaufen struggle. Bishop Albert’s travels in 1199 illustrate how well he understood these political realities. He traveled overland from Bremen to Lübeck, where he boarded a ship bound for Gotland, for it was absolutely essential to gain the assent o f the Visby merchant communities before organizing any m ilitary expedition to the eastern Baltic. In this case, the merchants were eager to participate, and 500 o f them took the cross to Livonia. Albert then returned to Denmark to visit Canute, W aldemar, and the venerable archbishop o f Lund. He spoke to the needs o f the Livonian Church, and undoubtedly discussed the advantages that Christianity in general, and Denmark in particular, would receive by establishing a bishopric on the banks o f the Daugava. It is not stated what Albert promised the Danes, but from the claims that W aldemar later brought forth it seems probable that there was some submission to Danish overlordship, especially in Estonia. Albert then left for Germany after having obtained a vague promise o f support amounting to a friendly neutrality. His next venture was at the court o f Philip of Hohenstaufen, the leading candidate for the throne o f the empire.

\ King Philip went to Magdeburg on the day that our Lord was bom of the maiden he had chosen as his mother. There an em peror’s brother and an emperor’s son went in one garment, although they had three titles. He carried the true scepter and the true throne. He strode easily in full calm. After him came a high-bom queen, a

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rose without thorns, a dove without gall. All gazed upon them. The Thüringers and Saxons performed court service so that the most fastidious would be satisfied.15 It was a glittering occasion, immortalized by the poetry o f the M innesinger W alther von der Vogelweide. The Hohenstaufen adherents appeared, as well as many W elfish and neutral nobles. Adolf of Holstein, Hartwig of Bremen, and Bernard o f Saxony presented themselves. It was at that time that Philip confirmed Hartwig’s possession of Stade, disregarding the W elf claim s.16 Hartwig most likely introduced his nephew to the emperor immediately afterward. Albert, allowed to address the assembled court, described the proposed crusade, after which he obtained a promise o f imperial support. Then he turned to the papal legate, a silent witness of the proceedings: In the presence o f the king an opinion was asked for as to whether the goods o f the pilgrims to Livonia were to be placed under the protection o f the pope, as is the case o f those who journey to Jerusalem. It was answered, indeed, that they were included under the protection o f the pope, who in enjoying the Livonian pilgrimage for the plenary remission o f sin, made it equal with that to Jerusalem .17 This was what Albert had been waiting for. He may already have visited Pope Innocent personally, for his schedule would have allowed time for a trip to Rome, and he most likely knew that the pope had approved the crusade. But never could he have announced the decision so effectively as at the court at Magdeburg. W ith the support of the Danish king, the Hohenstaufen candidate for the crown, and now the pope, any noble or cleric who wished to escape the conflict in Germany could do so by taking the cross to Livonia. Since friends and relatives were now beseeching every noble, m inisteriale, and cleric to declare their allegiance in the conflict, many men faced a terrible dilemma: a choice between the loss of honor and the loss o f all their worldly possessions. Albert offered an escape from this dilemma: no one dared accuse a crusader of cowardliness or dereliction o f duty.18 Albert had several special privileges in the papal letter—and he would receive even more in 1201. First o f all, no m atter what emergency m ight arise in the Holy Land, Albert did not need to fear that any crusaders he had laboriously recruited would be suddenly ordered to fulfill their vows in the Middle East. Secondly, he could assume that he would be able to call on reinforcements without asking special permission from the pope—and by repeatedly obtaining confirmation o f these rights, he created a perpetual crusade of annual summer expeditions sailing from Lübeck to Livonia. Lastly, whenever he encountered objections from any abbot or prelate about releasing his monks or canons to serve as missionaries he could display the papal edict allowing him to recruit suitable priests as missionaries. Among other rights granted, Albert had

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authority to give his canons the Augustine rule and habit, thereby freeing them from their previous ties to powerful orders such as the C istercians.'9 Albert preached the crusade across Saxony and W estphalia. He won over a number of volunteers, most notably Conrad von Dortmund and Hartberg von Iburg,20 but not as many as he had hoped. Few came from Holstein, where Count A dolf had called up every available knight for service against the Danes (but all in vain—he had to surrender the great fortress at Rendsburg and the land o f Dithmarschen in return for a truce). M ost o f Albert’s crusaders were o f common or middle-class origin and, therefore, neither as well equipped, disciplined, or experienced as the Saxon nobles. O f these commoners, several hundred Frisians w o e the most important; these hardy warriors had already made a reputation in the Holy Land, and their drill in sailing and marsh warfare would be much appreciated in Livonia. The crusaders sailed from Lübeck to Gotland, where the volunteers from Visby joined the fleet, and its twenty-three vessels proceeded to Livonia. Each of these heavy, decked vessels could carry a hundred or more fighting men and their supplies; so Bishop Albert had a respectable army. Its size and the memory of their losses in the previous battle were sufficient to prevent the natives from offering open resistance. Still, the Livs fought back; although the population fled into the forests, their warriors attacked single ships and ambushed sm all squadrons of calvary, a method which demonstrated a skillful use o f their traditional tactics, but which was not successful against the crusaders’ overwhelming numbers and enthusiasm. When Bishop Albert proposed a parley, the elders agreed to come. Called by the Germans to a drinking party, they all gathered at the same time and were shut up in one house. Fearing lest they be brought across the sea into Germany, they presented about thirty o f their better boys from the region o f the [Daugava] and from Treiden to the bishop. He received them with joy and, committing the land to the Lord, returned to Germany.21 Albert most likely entrusted some of the hostages to the canons of his chapter. Each cathedral was supposed to have a "scolasticus" to train the boys’ choir in music and Latin. Albert would most certainly have insisted on a choir for mass. M oreover, we know o f several translators in future years who were apparently native boys trained as priests in Livonia. In any case, Albert did not send hostages to Segeberg as had been past practice. In die beginning most of them were held in Uexküll, but after 1201 they were kept in Riga.22 Because it was obvious that hostages could do no more than maintain a tenuous peace with a portion of the Liv population. Bishop Albert had to raise another army. He sent Theodoric to Rome to explain the situation, with specific instructions to obtain permission to organize a second crusading expedition and to prohibit trade between Christians and the unconverted tribes. The pope obliged him by publishing the necessary documents, and the Gotland merchants later

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agreed to prohibit trade with Albert’s enemies, which assured him a monopoly o f the local trade and access to a considerable source o f revenue.23 Pope Innocent followed up his grants by issuing still further privileges in the following year. Undoubtedly initiated at this time, although perhaps introduced earlier by Meinhard as well, the requests involved difficult questions o f church theory and tradition which had to be researched before an answer could be given. For example, successful Baltic warriors expected that one o f the rewards for victory would be permission to choose additional wives and concubines from among the women taken captive. But, in addition, there was the custom o f providing for a widow by having her marry her late husband’s brother. This form of polygamy was more offensive in the eyes o f Christian observers than the prim itive distribution o f prisoners among the nobles. It was also more im portant to the pagan women, providing as it a guarantee o f status and security no m atter what befell their husbands. What was the church to require of converts? Throw all second wives into the street? Understanding the dilemma o f the Livonian churchmen. Innocent made a liberal interpretation o f the law—in order to avoid endangering the soul o f any potential convert, the Livonians were bound to church law only after conversion, which allowed him to perm it arrangements made under pagan law to remain in force. The decree was appropriately known by its joyful opening word, Gaudeamus, and this same spirit continued through to its conclusion, "do whatever you believe is in their interest, since only that which is well done is that which improves the lives o f men.” Nevertheless, missionaries noted that women were reluctant converts to Christianity, and they suspected them o f secretly continuing pagan practices and o f teaching ancient folklore to their children.24 When Albert returned to Germany in the fall o f 1200 the political situation was no longer favorable for appeals for crusaders. Hohenstaufen forces had failed to take the W eif stronghold at Braunschweig but had captured Lauenburg, their second most important city. There were persisting rumors that O tto’s brother, Heinrich, planned to desert the W elf cause, but he and other wavering princes remained loyal. There was no decisive battle, and when the long, dark, wet North German winter arrived, all m ilitary activities were suspended, while the countryside lapsed into an insecure and deceptively peaceful state. Albert’s call for volunteers was most effective when knights fearing that their party faced imminent defeat could place themselves and their property under papal protection by going on crusade, and when victors were free for new ventures; it was least likely to be successful during stalemates, when powerful men might anticipate being richly rewarded—if circumstances changed quickly—for a timely declaration o f allegiance to the winning side. An additional factor was sheer exhaustion. Not evety knightly family shared the enthusiasm for crusading equally, and not even the most devout crusaders had the money and stam ina to go abroad year after year. In the spring o f 1201 the war began anew. In M arch, Pope Innocent III, after having obtained a promise from O tto to separate Sicily from the empire, recognized the W elf candidate as the properly elected German king. This sent a

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chill through the Hohenstaufen forces, but especially through Adolf o f Holstein. At a moment when the Hohenstaufen army was in the north, close enough to assist him if he were attacked, he had invaded Dithmarschen and taken it from the Danes. He had awaited the Danish counterattack, but it did not come. Philip’s forces soon moved away, leaving A dolf and his ally, Hartwig of Bremen, to fend for themselves. After the Hohenstaufen forces had crossed the Rhine, the Danes attacked. The Danish vassal, Duke Heinrich Burwin of M ecklenburg, inflicted a devastating defeat on Adolf, capturing seventy Holstein knights in the first encounter. A local chronicler, Albert o f Stade, summarized the campaign briefly: Philip and Otto tested their strength on the Moselle. Canute, king o f the Danes, besieged Hamburg, and his brother, Duke W aldemar, crossed the Elbe to attack Count Adolf. Hamburg was taken and Count Adolf had to surrender to the duke.25 Bishop Albeit sailed from Lübeck for Livonia just as the Danish invasion was beginning, but he had not been able to recruit many "pilgrim s,” as they were called. He had only persuaded two minor Saxon nobles to take the cross. One of these, Conrad von M eiendorf, he enfeoffed with the castle at Uexküll,26 since he no longer had much interest in those island stations. He had decided to found a city at Riga, where a natural harbor was formed by the confluence o f a small stream and the Daugava River. After building a wall across the narrow stretch o f land between the rivers, he moved the cathedral chapter to this site and began the construction o f an appropriate building dedicated to the Virgin Mary, who was to be his recruiting "symbol" in the future. W hat potential crusader could not be recruited to fight for the "Land o f the Blessed Virgin?" And as the city was large, he invited merchants and fishermen, regardless of national origin, to settle there permanently. The largest contingent came from Bremen, thereby establishing a connection o f custom and kinship which remained strong throughout the centuries. Then, despite the cold and prim itive conditions, Albert set an example by wintering there himself.27 Civil W ar In G erm any It was as well that Albert did not return to Germany, and perhaps his decision to remain in Livonia had been determined by the reports o f Danish victories there. Soon after Albert had cleared Lübeck harbor, the Danes captured the Lübeck fishing fleet and took the leading citizens as hostages, which elim inated that city as a m ilitary asset to the count of Holstein. Then the Danish forces marched to Hamburg and other towns, as we have seen, and captured those relatively small centers one by one. Adolf o f Holstein temporarily eluded capture by crossing the Elbe, but in the winter of 1200-1201 he returned suddenly to retake Hamburg, after which Duke Waldemar hurried south and besieged the town again. When the protective lake and the Elbe unexpectedly froze, A dolf saw that he could no longer defend the city, and he surrendered.

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Many expected W aldemar to be content with exacting homage from A dolf and leave him the governance o f his domains, a policy o f the Danes in M ecklenburg, Schwerin, and elsewhere, but an unfortunate incident occurred to cast doubt upon A d o lfs usefulness to Waldemar. The Saxons suggested that the count go up to Lauenburg and surrender the castle, a ft» which he could go free with his men. Count Gunzel o f Schwerin agreed to help Adolf. Count Adolf took an oath on this and went to Lauenburg...but there were Dithmarschers, who, when they learned that Count Adolf was in the camp, made such an uproar and would have killed him because he was so often an enemy o f their land, that Count Gunzel and the others had to keep him well escorted and protected, as the duke had ordered, and use all their power to keep him alive. When the duke came with his men, [A dolfs] honor was shattered.2* The outcome was that Adolf forfeited his lands, and W aldemar decided to replace him. The archbishop o f Bremen fared little better: About Christmas, one thousand two hundred and two years after God’s birth, the great prince, King Otto, ordered an assembly o f the army. His brother Heinrich came with a great force. Also Count Simon o f Tecklenburg brought many knights and knights’ sons to the army at Slade, where they besieged the place closely. They took it and captured Bishop Hartwig o f Bremen.29 Otto IV imposed a harsh peace upon the archbishop, stripped him o f Stade, occupied Bremen, and replaced his advocates with W elf adherents. Any forces which had been resisting the Danes were now so weakened that it was merely a question o f time until North Germany was pacified. The Danish forces did, in fact, enjoy a swift succession o f victories in Holstein under new and more vigorous leadership. As it happened, the ailing King Canute o f Denmark and his powerful archbishop, Absalon, passed away. W aldemar succeeded to the throne, and the royal chaplain, Andreas Sunesen, was installed in Lund. Andreas, who owed his elevation both to family prestige and royal friendship, understood that the welfare of his archbishopric was inextricably bound to that o f the kingdom. For that reason he was to be a consistent supporter o f Danish expansion, especially expansion toward the east, and it is not without justification that some Danish historians call him the "Apostle to Livonia."30 This coincided nicely with W aldemar’s need to avoid conflict with the W elfs over hegemony in North Germany. On New Year’s Day 1202, W aldemar and Otto IV, each having concluded his siege successfully, met and formalized a family alliance. Thus, two decades after the fall o f Henry the lio n , the North o f Germany passed back into W elf and pro-W elf hands.

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Isolated by winter and the consequent cessation o f travel, the crusaders in Livonia could not have received intelligence o f these events. The Danish and W elf occupation o f the main recruiting areas and the prats for assembly and departure boded ill for the future of the crusade as planned by Bishop Albert and Theodoric. When Albert arrived in Lübeck in the spring o f 1202, the importance o f all this became clear. He gave up all hope o f sending more than a few men east that summer and concentrated on plans for 1203. T heodoric’s Innovations Although Bishop Albert was absent in Germany and Theodoric remained in Livonia, they were nonetheless working together. Albert was petitioning for permission to embark on certain new programs and was seeking the men to staff these programs, while Theodoric was putting them into effect, anticipating that permission would be forthcoming. First o f all, Albert sought approval to move the bishopric from Uexkttll to Riga, which was easily accomplished. Albert then obtained permission for his brother Engelbrat to leave the monastery at Neumünster in Holstein to become the prior of Saint M ary’s. Secondly, he wanted a Cistercian monastery at Dünamünde (lit. Mouth o f the Daugava), a strategic location which would afford refuge for pilgrims (crusaders) and merchants immediately upon entering the estuary. From the m ilitary standpoint, a fortification was needed there as well. A Cistercian abbey, with Theodoric at its head, could provide all this. Although Dünamünde was sufficiently isolated from large native settlements that monastic discipline would not be threatened, there were sufficient Livs to supply the monks with the basic necessities and a labor force. Dünamünde was located at a point which every merchant vessel had to pass—and Cistercians, despite their austere rules and penchant for isolating themselves from the world, had always been very interested in practical affairs such as commerce.31 Thirdly, Albert wanted to find a crusading order that would provide knights and men-at-arms fra’the year-round defense o f the colony and perm it the proper occupation and administration o f the castles.32 The last two ideas came from the productive mind o f Theodoric, that enthusiastic Cistercian who had played such a role in initiating the m ilitary expeditions to Livonia. Such an endeavor was in the tradition o f Saint Bernard, who had organized crusades, assisted in the foundation o f crusading orders, and spread Cistercian monasteries across Europe. Theodoric had visited Rome three times (once in 1199 and twice in 1200), and each time he had taken every opportunity to preach the crusade en route. Very likely, he had arranged for potential crusaders to borrow money to finance their travel, pawning their lands and offices to the nearest Cistercian abbot. His visits to M arienfeld had won over Abbot Fl&renz, who made his monks available for assignment to the new monastery at Dünamünde. The foundation o f the crusading order was a complex undertaking, and o f the many spiritual fathers, Theodoric was the most im portant.33 The crusading order was brought into being by a small group o f W estphalian nobles and clergy. Theodoric him self had come from Loccum, a

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Cistercian monastety on the middle W eser, and he had returned there for visits at every opportunity. This had brought him into contact with the famous com rade o f Henry the Lion, Bernard o f Lippe, who had entered the Cistercian monastery at M arienfeld and later, against his abbot’s wishes, had left it to become abbot of Loccum. Before entering the monastic life o f one of the most austere religious orders o f that tim e, Bernard had been to Livonia on crusade, probably on the first expedition with Bishop Beithold. Now, at Theodoric’s urging, he encouraged his friends to go to the defense o f the Church in Livonia. His close friend. Abbot Nicholaus von Hardehausen, who also had a connection with M arienfeld, visited a num b«' o f the W estphalian nobles who were in the first contingent o f knights, and Abbot Florenz of Marienfeld later became the first priest to enter the crusading order. This small group o f Cistercians convinced a few nobles to take the vows o f poverty, chastity, obedience, and to go to war against the enemies o f the Church. Pope Innocent III approved the foundation o f the order, named it the M ilitia o f Christ (Fratres M ilitiae Christi), and gave it a rule based upon that of the Templar Order. Why a new order? Why did Albert and Theodoric not call upon one o f the established crusading orders? The most likely answer is that the established orders were reluctant to spread their resources too thinly—the Baltic was ju st too far from Jerusalem; in addition, out o f a combination o f fear and poverty, Albert would have made such niggardly proposals that powerful and wealthy organizations could have foreseen little profit from investing men and money in his campaigns; lastly, the crusade lacked clear goals in terms o f geography or time. Albert probably had his fears concerning this new order—he anticipated the customary demand for exemption from episcopal authority and the tithe—but his need for soldiers was so great that he acquiesced to Theodoric’s wishes.34 He insisted only that the future master o f the order render him an oath o f obedience. Other outstanding questions, such as what the sources o f financial support and the lim its o f autonomy would be, were not discussed fully—a misfortune in view o f later difficulties. The first members o f the M ilitia of Christ who sailed to Livonia in 1202, soon acquired a more lasting name, derived from their distinctive costume. Clad in a white mantle with a red insignia—a cross and a sword—they were called Swordbearers or, more popularly, Swordbrothers.35 W ith the arrival o f the Swordbrothers the political landscape in Livonia was complete. The estates (bishop, canons, abbots, merchants, visiting crusaders, vassals, and native chiefs) were ready to interact in those complex and evolving relationships which have an effect on public policy in every time and place but were particularly important in this era. Western men believed that im portant issues merited prolonged discussion and that every estate, through its spokesmen, had a right to speak its mind. Moreover, they believed that whatever agreements were reached in such councils were valid only if written down and witnesses attested to the accuracy of the document. Alternatively, the lord had to be so powerful that his word was law. Albert’s failure to put in writing his understanding o f the crusading order’s role in the crusade probably reflected his optimistic view o f the years ahead.

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Each o f the men who assisted in creating the crusader state in Livonia had different plans for the future. Hartwig II o f Bremen and his nephew, Albert von Buxhoevden, foresaw the establishment o f bishoprics throughout the eastern Baltic region, modeled on those o f contemporary Germany where the prelate was a secular ruler as well as a religious figure. Theodoric and his Cistercian friends foresaw the forced conversion o f the natives and the establishment o f monastic settlem ents across the countryside, each ruling the natives in Christian fashion. The Swordbrothers had as their model the crusading orders in the Holy Land—autonomous political bodies o f great wealth and high prestige which fought on behalf of Giristendom even when secular rulers and churchmen lost their nerve and enthusiasm. Behind the bishop, the m issionaries, and the crusading order, were the ‘’pilgrims," mostly individual knights and m erchants, each hoping for eventual salvation and perhaps enrichment in the near future—the knights through the acquisition o f booty and office, die merchants through increased trade. Interested, but still neutral, was the Danish monarch, who looked forward to the day he could lay claim to all Livonia and reap all the rewards with minimum effo rt The natives, o f course, were not consulted. •

ENDNOTES 1. Friedrich Koch, Livland und das Reich bis zum Jahre 1225 (Posen, 1943); Rudolph U sing«’, Deutsch-dänische Geschichte, 1189-1227 (Berlin, 1863); and Richard Hausmann, Das Ringen der Deutschen und Dänen um den Besitz Estlands bis 1227 (Leipzig: Dincker & Humbolt, 1870). 2. Amold, /rin c e s and territories, 26, 34f; Thomas Curds Van Cleve, The Emperor Frederick 11 o f Hohenstaufen (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 24-33. 3. Barraclough, Origins o f Modern Germany, 204-9; Van Cleve, Frederick II, 3435.

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4. Albert o f Stade, 353; Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Crusaders, A Short H istory (New Haven: Yale, 1987), 109-120,130-32. 5. Albert o f Stade, 353. 6. Hamburgisches Urkundenbuch, ed. Johann M. Lappenberg (Hamburg: L. Voss, 1907), I, 279. 7. Anderson, Early Danish Missionaries, 266-271. 8. B ond Ulrich H uck«, "Der Zisterzienserabt Bertold, Bischof von Livland, und der erste Livlandkreuzzug," Studien über die Anfänge der Mission in Livland, 3964. 9. This island in the Daugava had long been a site visited by foreign merchants, especially those from Gotland. MugurëriCs, "Skandinavische Geschichtsquellen," 126. The church was small, typical for a western parish, and stood just outside the castle. Ëvalds M ugurSrits, "Aspekte der Kulturkommunikation anhand archäologischer Funde im baltischen Raum," Kommunikation und Alltag in spätmittelalter und früher Neuzeit (Wien: österreichische Akademie der W issenschaften, 1992) [Philosophisch-historische Klasse Sitzungsberichte, 596; Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Realienkunde des M ittelalters und der frühen Neuzeit, 15], 454. 10. Henry o f Livonia, 31-32. For techniques o f promoting the crusade, see Simon Lloyd, English Society and the Crusade 1216-1307 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988); for the Cistercian ties to the aristocracy, see Bouchard, H oly Entrepreneurs, 165. 11. Philippe Contamine, War in the Middle Ages (trans. Michael Jones. Oxford: BasU Blackwell, 1984), 72-73. 12. Henry o f Livonia, 32-33. 13. Ibid., 34. 14. Gisela Gnegel-W aitschies, B ischofAlbert von Riga: ein Bremer Domherr als Kirchenfürst im Osten (Hamburg: A.F. Velmede, 1958). 15. Die Gedichte Walthers von der Vogelweide (Berlin: W alt« de Gruyter, 1964), 23, 25. 16. Hamburgisches Urkundenbuch, I, 280. 17. Henry o f Livonia, 35-36. A papal pronouncement had already been issued in October. Hamburgisches Urkundenbuch, I: 280. The privileges o f crusaders are described in James Brundage, Medieval Canon Law and the Crusader (Madison: Univwsity o f W isconsin, 1969), 142-189. 18. Vööbus commented that Albert was "a man who, though he wore a bishop’s garb, did not have the qualities o f a shepherd of souls, a heart touched by the deepest in the Christian religion. He was obsessed by power and his interest belonged to the extension o f pow «. He felt at home in the camp o f men out for booty, recruiting warriors and working tirelessly toward his life’s goal-that o f a territorial magistrate." Studies, I, 46. 19. M accarone, 57-67. 20. Outline biographies o f these nobles, like those named elsewhere in the chronicles and records, can be found in Astaf von Transehe-Roseneck, Die ritterlichen Livlandfahrer des 13. Jahrhunderts (Ed. Wilhelm Lenz. W ürzburg: Holzner, 1960), 17.

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21. Henry o f Livonia, 37. 22. Friedrich Amelung, Baltische Kulturstudien (Dorpat, 1884), 1,58, and II, 211, who indicates the school may not have operated formally until 1211. 23. Henry o f Livonia, 38; the embargo was effective in preventing the native peoples from equipping additional warriors because they were utterly dependent on imported weapons and on iron for making weapons. Vassar and Tarvel, "Itämeren itäosassa asuvien heimojen taistelu Saksalais-Skandinaavista agressiota vastaan 12. ja 13. vuosisadalla," 28. 24. M accarone, 70-77; James Brundage, "Christian M arriage in Thirteenth Century Livonia," Journal o f Baltic Studies, 4/4(1973), 313-320. 25. Albert c f Stade, 353. 26. Transehe-Roseneck, Livlandfahrer, 18. 27. Henry o f Livonia, 38-41; Friedrich Benninghoven, Rigas Entstehung und der frühhansische Kaufmann (Hamburg, 1961); Bartlett, Malang o f Europe, 194-196; W illiam Urban, "Saint Mary and the Dragonkiller," in Marian Library Studies, 2 (1971), 89-94. 28. Neocorus, Chronik des Landes Dithmarschen (ed. Friedrich Christoph Dahlmann. Kiel, 1827), I, 345-46. 29. Braunschweigische Reimchronik, 530. 30. Friedrich M ünter, Kirchengeschichte von Dänemark und Norwegen (Leipzig, 1823), I, 356-68; Peep Peter Rebane, "Archbishop Anders Sunesen and the Danish Conquest o f Estonia," YEARBOOK o f the Estonian Learned Society in America, 5 (1968-75), 24-37. 31. Bouchard, Holy Entrepreneurs, 21, 189, emphasizes the Cistercians’ willingness to found monasteries in obscure locations and their enthusiasm for economic activity. 32. The enduring popularity o f such orders until 1291 is demonstrated by Helen Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights. Images o f the M ilitary Orders, 1128-1291 (Leicester, London and New York: St. M artin’s, 1993). 33. Benninghoven, Schwertbrüder, 37-74; Bouchard, H oly Entrepeneurs, 40-41. 34. Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights, 18-19. 35. Sven Ekdahl, "Die Rolle der Ritterorden bei der Christianisierung der Liven und Letten," in Inizi del Cristianesimo, 221-23,231-34; for general background on crusading, see essays in The Holy War (ed. Thomas Murphy. Columbus: Ohio State, 1976) and chapters in Bartlett, Making o f Europe, 255-268, 308; also Boleslaw Szezesniak, The Knights Hospitallers in Poland and Lithuania (Paris: M outon, 1969).

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CHAPTER FOUR DENMARK AND LIVONIA

W hile the crusade in the eastern Baltic was still in its infancy, the life of the tiny bishopric of Riga could have been snuffed out by native rebellion, Danish hostility, o r German indifference; but it survived, and in halting fashion grew stronger. Because there never was wholehearted support for the venture in any o f the larger states o f Europe, the crusader state in Livonia became a m inor pawn in the com plicated struggle among German emperors, Roman popes, and the monarchs o f England, France, and Denmark. Nevertheless, Bishop Albert managed to take some advantage even from these conflicts. Danish Hegemony By the spring of 1203 King W aldemar had strengthened his grip on the new conquests n o th o f the Elbe. Over the Christmas holiday he held court in Lübeck, to which his opponents or their representatives had come to negotiate the terms o f their surrender. The strongest o f these, Adolf o f Holstein, obtained his freedom after surrendering the fortress at Lauenburg, leaving his sons as pledge for his good behavior, and promising to live quietly in Schauenburg. A dolf left for his family lands in Schauenburg, hoping the king—in a quixotic chivabic gesture—would reconsider his decision and allow him to retain Holstein; that did not happen—A d o lfs richest land was demanded in forfeit. The weaker nobles—Ludolf von Dassel, Heinrich von Dannenberg, and others—recognizing their danger, offered homage to W aldemar and gave him hostages, thereby saving their lands. It was expected that the king would bestow Holstein upon W ilhelm, his W elf son-in-law and the brother o f Otto IV, but no decision had been announced. The suspense this created proved advantageous to the king. N o one dared displease him for fear o f injuring his party’s chances (faint though the Hohenstaufen prospects were, even they hoped that the king might listen to A dolfs pleas). So secure did W aldemar consider him self that he consented to release t o n imprisonment his uncle. Bishop W aldemar o f Schleswig, whom he had held captive on charges o f treason. Since this issue had impeded an understanding with the papacy over the disposition o f disputed territories, W aldemar was now probably looking forward to the time when his state would encompass not only Denmark and northern Germany but also the lands along the coast o f the Baltic Sea, including even those now occupied by the tiny bishopric in Livonia.1 The im port o f the Danish victory was clear to everyone in Riga. Albert anticipated that W aldemar would soon be interested in his crusader state; and, if W aldemar insisted that he render formal homage like the other minor lords, how could Albert refuse? It is all but certain that Albert visited W aldemar during the

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winter o f 1202-1203. His freedom to travel throughout the Danish domains leads us to believe that an understanding had been reached: the crusade would be neither a partisan venture, nor would it infringe upon Danish claim s to nearby territories. In return, the bishop could preach the crusade to Livonia in northern Germany, collect men and monies, and transport them to the east.2 In order for such an understanding to have been reached, Bishop Albert m ust have represented him self as an independent agent, a servant o f the Church, and have emphasized his usefulness to Danish interests. Had he chosen to ally him self with either the W elf or Hohenstaufen parties, he would have encountered difficulties, for the northern principals o f both parties were soon surprised by the actions o f the Danish monarch. Everyone had expected W aldemar to enfeoff his W elf son-in-law with the forfeited county of Holstein or return it to the Schauenburg dynasty. But he did neither. He turned, instead, to his nephew, Albert o f Orlamünde, a member of a family traditionally hostile to the W elfs. It was a clever move on W aldemar’s part but very unpopular. This meant that should the W elfs win the struggle for the imperial throne, they would have too weak a hold on the north to expel the Danes easily. On the other hand, should the Hohenstaufens prevail, this grant could be presented as proof o f having assisted them to achieve victory. Meanwhile, neither party dared object too strongly, as they were busy with their civil war in the Rhineland and could not afford to make new enemies.3 Nor was Danish overlordship considered a dire fate except by those who prided themselves upon the nobility of their birth. The royal fam ily was clearly believed to be o f superior ancestry, but below the king, one’s status reflected one’s relationship with the monarch. The king’s companions, his housecarls, were a form o f nobility, but they came from the ranks o f the prosperous peasantry. In short, they were the descendants of Vikings, not o f knights. This im plied that all free men were more or less equal. Distinction was based more on talent and wealth, less on birth, than was the case in Germany, although ancestry was important. The king was no tyrant, nor did he impose on his subjects a religion strange to them, neither did he impose excessive taxes. Resistance to him was rooted in that apparently universal desire for absolute independence, a desire which was so strong in Scandinavian society that W aldemar had to war constantly to maintain his power. He was sustained in this struggle by an unusually warlike group o f clergymen with goals o f their own, one o f which was to dominate the new church in Riga. Founding the Crusader State Though he had obtained permission to preach the crusade to Livonia, Albert had only moderate success in doing so. Relatively few warriors volunteered to accompany him east. Only the minor nobles Arnold von M eiendorf and Bernard von Seehausen are worthy o f mention; the other crusaders were but simple knights and merchants. Albert found it necessary, as well as desirable, to rely upon his own family; and his brother Theodoric (Dietrich) became the first of his many relatives to sail to Livonia.4 Theodoric was to be his advocate, responsible

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for the adm inistration o f secular government and the conduct o f war; he was a good choice—active, courageous, and intelligent. In all, sixteen ships, carrying perhaps a hundred warriors apiece, set out on the treacherous voyage. In a chronicler’s words. Not fearing to undergo prosperity and adversity for God, [Albert] committed him self to the raging sea. As he approached the Danish province o f Lyster, he came upon the pagan Esthonians o f the island o f Oesel with sixteen ships. They had recently burned a church, killed some men and captured others, laid waste the land, and carried away the bells and belongings o f the church, just as both the pagan Esthonians and Kurs had been accustomed to do heretofore in the kingdom o f Denmark and Sweden. The pilgrims armed, wishing to avenge the losses o f the Christians; but the pagans, knowing that they were going to Livonia, feared greatly and said deceitfully that they had made peace with the people o f Riga. Since the Christians believed them, the pagans escaped their lands for the tim e being.5 But not for long. After their arrival in Visby, the crusaders learned that they had been duped, and when the Oeselian ships reappeared—probably using Gotland as a landfall on the way home—they set out in pursuit, captured two vessels, and killed about sixty pagans. Albert then sent the bells, church ornaments, and prisoners, all o f which were found aboard the ships, to the Danish prim ate, Andreas Sunesen, who was the foremost confidant o f the king. In this way he could offer proof that the crusade was indeed in the Danish interest and at the same time ingratiate him self with these powerful men. As soon as the new arrivals had disembarked, the crusaders, who had been in Riga since the previous winter, made preparations to leave. Albert was to remain, but he sent his closest associate, the Cistercian brother Theodoric, and a prominent native chieftain, Caupo, with the fleet when it departed. They had urgent business in Rome. Pressing though his business was, Theodoric could not hurry directly to Rome. Travel was expensive and exhausting, and the duty o f preaching the crusade called for as many stops as practical, for it was necessary to bring his personal influence to bear on potential crusaders—especially those who might bring a sizable body o f troops. The travelers almost certainly visited M arienfeld, where they conferred with the abbot about the new monastery at Dünamünde, which, being fortified, presented the order with a moral challenge. They may also have discussed the desire expressed by some crusaders to be able to leave their money and goods in the safekeeping o f the abbot there.6 Afterward they continued by slow stages to Rome. Now on his third visit to the holy father, Theodoric was well acquainted with Pope Innocent III, and undoubtedly the two men agreed upon the necessity o f impressing the tall Liv noble who had come so far to visit the pope. Pope Innocent welcomed them in a most gracious manner and bestowed lavish gifts

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upon them: 100 pieces of gold to Caupo and a Bible written by Pope Gregory to Theodoric. Caupo was suitably impressed, and afterward remained loyal to Christianity and his feudal German lords, even when such loyalty was opposed by many of his own people. In turn, Caupo made an impression on the pope (and perhaps the two subsequent popes—the future Honorius III and Gregory IX were cardinals at the court and presumably present at this interview). Neither gold nor Bible, impressive as these gifts were, was the object of Theodoric’s v isit He informed the pope o f the progress made by the crusaders and sought his aid in recruiting more soldiers. He especially asked for papal confirmation o f the m ilitary-religious order he had founded and Bishop Albert had sanctioned. He was probably successful in this, for by the time he returned to Livonia, in September 1204, the Order o f Swordbrothers had apparently received papal approval.7 The year 1203 passed without much success on the part of the crusaders in Livonia. Indeed, by the spring of 1204 the outlook for the future was bleak. If the knights who had taken the cross the previous year had elected to sail away with Bishop Albert, when he returned to Germany to preach the crusade,