The Last Emperor in The Primary: Chronicle of Kiev
The Last Emperor in The Primary: Chronicle of Kiev
The Last Emperor in The Primary: Chronicle of Kiev
Chronicle of Kiev
Mari Isoaho
University of Helsinki
The Primary Chronicle of Kiev was largely influenced by the popular apocalypse known as the Revelation
of Pseudo-Methodius. Embracing an historical view of the Revelation, the later chronicler connected the
catastrophes and wars during his lifetime with a larger concept in which the end of the world was attentively
awaited. In this scene the nomadic tribe with mastery over the Eurasian steppes at the time, the Polovtsy –
better known in the west as Cumans – were seen as the Ishmaelites, a nation whose onslaught was a prelude
to events preceding the end of the world. In this article I will discuss the Revelation’s crucial theme, namely
the Last Emperor, as treated in the Primary Chronicle. I argue that the role of the Last Emperor was invested
in two warlords of the Polovtsy wars: first, in Prince Svyatopolk (ruled 1093–1113), whose Christian name,
Michael, had vital significance and even pre-ordained his faith as shown in the Chronicle; and second, after
Svyatopolk’s death in 1113, in his follower, Vladimir Monomakh (ruled 1113–25), who was of Greek descent.
Introduction
The Primary Chronicle of Kiev belongs to a group of so-called ‘national’ chronicles from eastern Europe,
which materialised around the twelfth century when Christianity was already firmly established, a new
literary culture was on the rise and the development of the early medieval states was well underway.1 The
new literate cultures created visions of the past in which the roots of the “new people”, as the baptised
former pagans formulated their position in God’s flock, were envisaged. In a line of new histories for a
new people was the Primary Chronicle of Kiev, written at the very beginning of the twelfth century, one
Recently, a discussion has arisen about how we should translate the title of the Primary Chronicle
of Kiev, whose full title reads Повѣсть временьныхъ лѣтъ чьрноризьца Феодосиева манастыря
печерьскаго, отъкуду есть пошьла русьская земля и къто въ неи почалъ пьрвѣе къняжити, и
отъкуду Русьская земля стала есть.2 In general usage, the Primary Chronicle is simply called by its
three first words in Russian and has customarily been translated into English as the ‘Tale of Bygone
Years’. This follows the work’s translation into modern Russian as Povest’ minuvshikh let by Dimitry
Likhachev,3 who particularly underlined the aspect of the years that had passed. The recent discussion
has emphasised that the word временьныхъ (vremennykh) should actually be translated as ‘temporal’,
‘chronological’, ‘worldly’ or even ‘temporary’. 4 It has also been suggested that the translation should
reflect the chronological order of the years and could be translated as ‘The Tale of the Numbered Years’.5
In each of these translations we are confronted with time and its limits, and it is from this perspective
Specifically, in this article I will investigate how the narrative in the Primary Chronicle deals with
the idea of temporary and numbered years, giving special attention to the beginning and ending of
its annalistic portion. I will further examine the chronicler’s perception of time by concentrating
on certain rulers, who in my view represent central characters in the narrative structure. Particular
consideration will be given to the wars of the Christians and the apocalyptic expectations associated
with them around the time of the First Crusade in order to place ideas of time and its end in a wider,
Christian context and demonstrate how the Primary Chronicle reflected these ideas.
I will begin my survey with the Chronicle’s first annual entry, which combines Rus’ rulers with
imperial and Christian leaders and marks the year when Rus’ history begins. Secondly, I will give a
brief overview of Byzantine apocalyptic imagery and how it was connected with the image of Rus’.
Lastly, I attempt to show how the Primary Chronicle reflected this Byzantine imagery, wherein Rus’
was presented as a threat to Christians, and delivered a self-conscious Kievan response to testify that
2 PVL 0,1–0,4. As my Primary Chronicle reference, I use Donald Ostrowski’s reconstruction of the alpha text in Ostrowski,
Birnbaum & Lunt 2004. It must be said, however, that the existence of чьрноризьца Феодосиева манастыря печерьскаго in the
alpha text is highly controversial. See, for example, O. Tolochko 2006, 248–251. In the English translation I am basically following
Cross & Sherbowitz-Wetzor 1953. Both Ostrowski and Cross use the numbering that coincides with Karskiy’s edition of the Laurentian
Chronicle in 1926 in the series Polnoe sobranie russkikh letopisey, where the number before the comma designates the column and
the number after the comma indicates the line.
3 Likhachev’s first translation of the Primary Chronicle was completed in 1950 together with B.A. Romanova in Adrianova-
Perets (ed.) 1950. In the second printing Likhachev alone was responsible for the translation; see Adrianova-Perets (ed.) 1996. In his
commentary on the Chronicle Likhachev justifies the emphasis in the translation as ‘years gone by’, making it parallel to the Slavonic
translation of the Chronicle of George Hamartolus and its view of past events. See Likhachev 1996, 379.
4 See the discussion in Franklin & Shephard 1996, xviii; Lunt 1997, 317–326; Ostrowski 2003, LXI–LXIII, and Prokhorov 2006,
6–7.
5 P. Tolochko 2011, 266.
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the real threat lay elsewhere. In this imagery the roles of the Polovtsy whom the chronicler referred
to as Ishmaelites and that of the Kievan prince were fundamental. Awareness of the limits of time
evidently made the chronicler choose a narrative strategy that ultimately had a tremendous impact on
the eschatological role of the last rulers dealt with in the Primary Chronicle, namely Prince Svyatopolk
The Primary Chronicle begins with a description of the postdiluvian world, showing how different
nations were spread around the globe. It also describes different pagan nations and their habits, making
a clear distinction between those and the laws of the Christians. The introduction ends with the notion
of how the two-edged sword of the Rus’ conquered the one-edged sabre of the Khazars.6 After this
introduction, annual entries begin in the year 6360 (explained below) from the Creation. The Primary
Chronicle states that in that year the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Michael began:
In the year 6360, the 15th indiction, from the beginning of Michael’s reign, the land of the Rus’ [Русьская земля]
began to be so called. We know that it was during this emperor’s reign that Rus’ came to Tsargrad, because it is stated
in the Greek chronicle. Hence, we shall begin at this point and establish the number of years.7
The year 6360 corresponds to 852 AD according to the usual Byzantine and Kievan practice, but it
is clear that the attack to which the chronicler is referring did not take place during that year, but later,
in 860. One of the main reasons for the chronological problems in dating the first annual entries in
the Primary Chronicle derives from its main source, the Chronicle of George Hamartolus; there the
description of the events relating to the history of Byzantium was not arranged according to annalistic
6 PVL 16,21–17,24.
7 Въ лѣто 6360, индикта 15, начьнъшю Михаилу цьсарьствовати, нача ся прозывати Русьская земля. О семь бо увѣдахомъ,
яко при семь цьсари приходиша Русь на Цьсарьградъ, яко пишеть въ лѣтописании Грьцьскомь. Тѣмь же и отъселе почьнемъ
и числа положимъ. PVL 6360 (852), 17,25–18,1.
8 The Byzantine chronicle written by a monk who called himself George ‘the Sinner’ (Greek: Hamartolos, ‘αμαρτωλός), tells
the history of the world from the Creation up to the Council of Constantinople in 842–43. In the middle of the 10th century the
Chronicle of George Hamartolus was continued up until the year 948, and in this continued, expanded version, it was translated in
the Slavonic in the 11th century. In this continued, expanded version, the chronicle was translated into Slavonic in the 11th century.
On the basis of the large number of Russisms in its language, the majority of scholars believe that the oldest Slavic translation of
Hamartolus’s chronicle was made in Kiev. See the discussion in Istrin 1920, v–vii; Istrin 1922, 273–305; Istrin 1930, xliii–l; Franklin
1988, 324–330; Ansimova 2009, 9–11, 21–25. The monk George reconstructed his chronicle according to the reigns of the emperors,
as sequences of biographies. He not only divided the stream of events into reigns, but also systematically destroyed the principle of
annalistic narrative, which was the attitude that had characterised the whole epoch of Byzantine chronographical literature during
the time that Alexander Kazhdan has called an Epoch of Encyclopedism (ca. 800–1000 AD); see Kazhdan 2006, 324–325.
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After the reference to Emperor Michael and after establishing the numerical starting point for the
years, the Primary Chronicle links the chronology of the world with the appearance of the Rus’ in a
From Adam to the Flood was 2,242 years; from the Flood to Abraham, 1,082 years; from Abraham to Moses’ departure
[from Egypt], 430 years; from Moses’ departure to the reign of David, 601 years; from David and the beginning of
the reign of Solomon to the captivity of Jerusalem, 448 years; from the captivity to the reign of Alexander, 318 years;
from Alexander to the birth of Christ, 333 years; from the birth of Christ to Constantine, 318 years; from Constantine
Again, the computation of the chronological list presented above is derived from very problematic
chronological sources.10 However, the entry is interesting in its message, for it solemnly identifies the
Rus’ war against Byzantium as the beginning of Rus’ written history, beginning its yearly entries with
the Byzantine emperor Michael III, who in reality began his rule as a two-year-old in 842 AD, and
whose reign ended with his murder in 867. In the Primary Chronicle Michael III serves as the historical
figure linking the rulers of Rus’ to the Christian emperors and, through them, to world history, as it
was then known. After this first entry, in the year 6360, the rest of the Chronicle is structured both
according to rulers and by year. The chronicler faithfully recorded each and every year, but also marked
the beginnings of the new reigns of the Kievan princes with clauses written in cinnabar. The first year
of the Byzantine Emperor Michael’s reign is thus significant in connecting the Primary Chronicle with
known universal history by counting the time from the Creation to ‘this Michael’. After the Emperor
Michael, the chronicler lost interest in Byzantine rulers and continued the list with Rus’ian princes
And from the first year of this Michael to the first year of Oleg, Rus’ prince, 29 years [А отъ пьрваго лѣта Михаила
сего до пьрваго лѣта Ольгова, Руськаго кънязя, лѣтъ 29]; from the first year of Oleg, who sat on his throne in Kiev,
to the first year of Igor, 31 years; from the first year of Igor to the first year of Svyatoslav, 33 years; from the first
year of Svyatoslav to the first year of Yaropolk, 28 years. Yaropolk reigned 8 years, Vladimir reigned 37 years, and
Yaroslav reigned 40 years. Therefore, from the death of Svyatoslav to the death of Yaroslav is 85 years, and from the
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Prince Svyatopolk Izyaslavich, the last Rus’ prince mentioned in the list is, in fact, ‘the other
Michael’, for in accordance with Rus’ian practice, princes had two names: an ancestral Slavonic name
with dynastic significance and a Christian name, given to a child when he was baptised. The dynastic
Slavonic names usually had a military connotation, like Svyatopolk, which means ‘holy regiment’.
Svyatopolk’s Christian name – Michael – formed a perfect match with his ancestral name, for with this
name the Archangel Michael himself, the leader of the heavenly host, became Svyatopolk’s personal
patron saint. Needless to say, names of the ruling princes were very carefully selected. In the Kievan
princely dynasty the child who bore an ancestral name also bore the faith of his name-bearer; it was
as if the name-bearer was newly incarnated in every child who assumed his name.12 The same solemn
meaning was attached to Christian names. Often the first pagan rulers who were baptised into the
Orthodox Christian faith were given the names of ruling Byzantine emperors, who acted as their
godfathers at the baptism. Thus, the Bulgarian Khan Boris, who in 864 AD became Christian, was
given the name Michael after Emperor Michael III. The same applied to the first Kievan prince to be
baptised, Vladimir Svyatoslavich (d. 1015), who was given the name Basil (Vasili) after his military ally
I contend that the name of Prince Svyatopolk-Michael determined the prince’s destiny in the narrative
of the Primary Chronicle, and not only his destiny, but also the destiny of Rus’ itself. Chronological
time in Rus’ began with the rule of the Byzantine Emperor Michael; below I will argue that the Primary
Chronicle narrative suggests that time was actually supposed to end with the ruler called Michael,
for the name Michael was attached not only to an angel with eschatological significance, but also to
the figure of the Last Emperor, familiar to the writer of the Primary Chronicle from one of the most
The Revelation is a text composed in Syriac towards the end of the seventh century soon after
Syria was conquered by the Arabs. After the text was translated into Greek, the Revelation gained
immense popularity and marked a new era in Byzantine eschatology, strongly influencing the whole
genre of apocalyptic writing. From Greek, the work was almost immediately translated into Latin, and
eventually into Slavonic. The Slavonic translation was carried out relatively early, possibly right after
the Christianisation of Bulgaria, during the reign of Boris (died in 889), but at the latest by the end of
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the tenth century and from a Greek original representing the first Greek redaction.13 The fact that the
Primary Chronicle cites the Revelation (as will be discussed later in this article) speaks for its early
There were several Byzantine and Slavonic apocalyptic texts in which Michael appeared as the
mythical emperor of the End Time, triumphing over either Ishmaelites or the race called ‘Blonde
Beards’. Michael as the name of the Last Emperor is mentioned in many of the late eleventh-century
Bulgarian apocalyptic texts influenced by the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius, such as the Vision of
Daniel, the Interpretation of Daniel and the Narration of the Holy Prophet Isaiah, where especially
in the last mentioned, reference was made to the Bulgarian Khan Boris-Michael.15 The Revelation of
Pseudo-Methodius does not, however, mention the name of the Last Emperor; connecting the name
Michael with the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius was done fairly late, only in the so-called ‘Third’ or
‘Interpolated Slavonic Redaction’.16 V.M. Istrin suggested that the name Michael for the Last Emperor
was originally of Greek origin, and it has survived only in the Slavonic version of the text, as the name
13 See Alexander 1971, 61; Alexander 1978, 1; Alexander 1985, 60–61. The Syriac text has been preserved in the 16th-century
Vatican ms known as Codex Syriacus 58 and has been published and translated in Martinez 1985, 122–154; it is also translated in
Alexander 1985, Appendix: 36–51. Parts of the texts are translated in Reinik 1999. Four Greek redactions were published by Istrin
1897, 5–74; Lolos 1976 and Lolos 1978. Istrin also published an 11th-century Latin ms, which he called the Short Latin Redaction in
Istrin 1897, 75–83. Slavonic texts of the Revelation fall into three phases according to their translation dates, and all were published
by Istrin. The earliest translation was actually done twice from the same original at the end of the 10th century: first, the so-called
‘Free Translation’ followed by the ‘Literate’ translation. Istrin published the First Slavonic Translation, which represents the ‘Free
Translation’ from the 13th- and early 14th-c. ms from the Athos Monastery of Hilandar. Later, during the 14th century, another
translation from another Greek text of the Revelation was made in Slavonic. Istrin published it based on the 15th-century ms from
the Athos Monastery of Hilandar and called it the Second Translation. See Istrin 1897, 174; Thomson 1985, 143–173; compare
Tapkova-Zaimova & Miltenova 2011, 218–219. Whereas the First and the Second Slavonic Translations of the Revelation follow the
original text quite carefully and have only slight differences, the Third has numerous interpolations from other apocalyptic writings
and has no examples in existing Greek variants of the Revelation. Istrin 1897, 84–131. Recently, V. V. Mil’kov published this Third,
Interpolated Redaction of the Slavonic Revelation, but without deeper study of the subject. See Mil’kov 2000 and Mil’kov 1999.
Tapkova-Zaimova & Miltenova 2011 recently published a thorough study concerning Bulgarian apocalypses, but unfortunately the
viewpoint of their massive investigation is narrowly restricted to the Bulgarian context of the text material and completely ignores
Kievan Rus’ in their discussion. They also published one variant of the First Slavonic Translation from the 12th century; see Tapkova-
Zaimova & Miltenova 2011, 227–256.
14 PVL references to the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius differ that much from the known Greek and Slavonic texts, that is has
been suggested that the Kievan chronicler quoted the Revelation from his head. See Istrin 1897, 144. Recently, however, Donald
Ostrowski proposed that the Kievan chronicler had at his usage a text (either Slavonic or Greek) which has not survived. Ostrowski
2014, 215–242.
15 All these texts are published in Tapkova-Zaimova & Miltenova 2011, 141–217. According to Tapkova-Zaimova & Miltenova, the
apocalyptic figure of Emperor Michael was explicitly developed in Bulgaria to commemorate the baptised Khan Boris-Michael. See
Tapkova-Zaimova & Miltenova 2011, 87–98. The Byzantine group of apocalyptic texts connected to the Prophet Daniel was heavily
influenced by the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius. The original text of the Vision of Daniel is not extant, but it has been preserved
in the Slavonic translation; see Alexander 1985, 61.
16 Interpolated into the text are excerpts from the Vision of Daniel and the Vision of Andrew the Fool (Andrew of Salos). It has
generally been suggested that there must have been a Greek text as the source of the Interpolated or Third Slavonic Redaction.
See Veselovsky 1875a, 283–331 and Veselovsky 1875b, 48–130; see also Vasiliev 1946a, 237–248, here esp. 247. See also Tapkova-
Zaimova & Miltenova 2011, 88. The Third, Interpolated Slavonic Revelation was first published by Tikhonravov, who based it on a
much later manuscript, but which, from its content, was very close to the 16th- and 17th-century manuscript published by Istrin 1897,
115–131. See Istrin 1897, 175. The text has also been recently published by Mil’kov 1999, 654–688; see the Russian translation with
commentary on 689–711. A Russian translation with commentary is also available in Mil’kov 2000, 345–380. See also Dmitriev
1987, 283–285.
17 Istrin 1897, 205–206.
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Past and Present in Medieval Chronicles
In order to understand the mental imagery with which the Primary Chronicle worked, it is essential
to go back to the history of the Byzantine apocalyptic images, for the whole beginning of the annalistic
part of the Chronicle placed Rus’ in the sphere of written historical records via its confrontation with
the Byzantine Empire. The actual events of the first Rus’ attack are described in the Primary Chronicle
entry for the year 6374, which corresponds to our year 866 AD, though we must keep in mind the
problematic and incorrect computation for the first entries of the Chronicle. The description of the attack
itself follows the Slavonic continuation of the Chronicle of George Hamartolus,18 which describes the
Rus’ attack on Constantinople and gives details that allow the actual event to be dated with certainty to
the year 860 AD.19 The situation was paradoxical: for the Byzantines, it was a time of turmoil, signalling
the end of the world and the end of history; for the Rus’, however, the moment introduced the beginning
The Rus’ attack on Constantinople in 860 spared very few Byzantine sources. During the attack, and
very soon thereafter, Patriarch Photius of Constantinople gave two sermons in which he spoke of the
unknown nation that, through God’s will, had come to punish the Christians. Photius referred to Rus’
as a wild and blood-thirsty nation, colourfully describing its cruelties20 and claiming that the attack
was a consequence of the sins of the citizens of Constantinople, who had aroused the wrath of God. For
Photius also made a strong appeal to another perception, crucial in the eyes of imperial citizens, given
their understanding of the history and role of their empire, when he pointed out that the Christians were
now the new Chosen People of God and Constantinople was their New Jerusalem. 22 This followed an
idea highly characteristic of Byzantine historians from the time of Eusebius, namely to see Byzantium
and its emperor as fulfilling a divine plan. Since the seventh century, the association of Christian and
Roman universalism had led Byzantine authors to refer to themselves as the ‘New Israel’. By so doing,
the Byzantines made a strong claim that the messianic prophecies pertaining to the Kingdom of Israel
now properly belonged to the Christian empire of the Romans, as the Byzantines themselves referred
to citizens of that empire. In particular, the Byzantines applied Daniel’s prophecy of the four empires
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to themselves so that they became the Last Empire.23 With the idea of Constantinople as the New
Jerusalem, the apocalyptic belief that the Second Coming and the Last Judgement would take place in
Jerusalem was replaced by the notion that the scene of events in the final days would be Constantinople,
whose faith was intertwined with the last days of the world.24
By posing a threat to Constantinople, Rus’ became a target of Byzantine popular perceptions, which
in turn were attached to the faith of the empire. Part of this image was eschatological fear. In popular
eschatology the Apostle Paul’s reference in his Second Letter to Thessalonians (2 Thess. 7–8) to a power
whose removal would lead to the advent of the Antichrist was identified with the Roman Empire and
taken to mean that the world would last as long as that empire; for the Byzantines, this meant that
the fate of the world was tied to the fate of Constantinople. 25 This was the main reason why the Rus’
attacks on Constantinople were seen in such an eschatological light. Even though the early Christian
church relegated the belief in an imminent apocalypse to the role of symbolic theory, the popularity
of apocalypses remained strong, and in the end, they played a fundamental role in creating strains of
thought that shaped the imagery of things past, present and future.26
From the Constantinopolitan point of view, every threat directed to heart of the Christian empire
could be interpreted in an apocalyptic light, and consequently, Rus’, from the time it began its raids
that, just as the threatening apocalyptic images affected how the citizens of Constantinople saw the
Rus’, these images also ultimately affected the self-images of the Rus’ themselves. This is the issue dealt
Yet the most influential Byzantine apocalypse, the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius, had no interest
in Rus’. Instead, it offered a historiographical review reflecting the division of mankind into the
descendants of the sons of Abraham: those of Ishmael and those of Isaac. The Revelation, recalling
biblical history, relates how, after Gideon’s victory, the Ishmaelites were expelled to the desert of
Yathrib. It also contained a prophecy predicting a new coming of the Ishmaelites. A major part of the
Revelation is dedicated to describing their bloody and harsh rule, which will eventually be stopped by
the appearance of a Greek ruler destined to be the Last Emperor before the appearance of the Antichrist
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In the narrative setting of the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius the role of the descendants of Ishmael
was central. They were introduced as a tribe who implemented the horrors of four apocalyptic riders
against whom the Last Emperor would wage his final battles. According to the Revelation, after the
Greek emperor triumphs, the last great period of peace will ensue. Peace and happiness will then be
destroyed by the nations of Gog and Magog, which will be released from the mountains where Alexander
the Macedonian once drove the unclean, and these nations will wage destruction on the world until the
Archangel Michael defeats them on the plain of Joppe. Then the Greek emperor will travel to Jerusalem
where the Antichrist will be revealed. The emperor will climb Golgotha to lay his crown on the Cross of
Christ and hand over his empire to God; thereafter, he will die. The Antichrist will rule the world until
Christ’s Second Coming, at which time the Antichrist will be cast into hell. 27
In every respect then, the imperial wars were significant by the very nature of the empire, and this
had a profound effect on the perceptions and expectations of its emperor. Byzantine conceptions of
the role of the emperor were intertwined with the history of the Christian empire and proclaimed in
apocalyptic expectations. This especially applies to the wars during the fifth to the seventh centuries,
which culminated in the reign of Emperor Heraclius (610–41).28 In the 620s and 630s Heraclius
introduced explicitly religious overtones into his campaign against Persia and the Arabs, which led to
fervent enthusiasm for the cult of the True Cross. Heraclius was later given eschatological significance,
which in apocalyptic works led to the formulation of the legend of the Last Emperor.29 Exactly when the
notion of the Last Emperor originated is impossible to date on the basis of the sparse source material,30
but the most popular and influential medieval legend about the Last Emperor is found in the Revelation
of Pseudo-Methodius, a text whose military imagery fell on fertile ground in western Europe, especially
The apocalyptic image of the violent nations devastating the empire fit splendidly with the classical
image of Scythians, as brilliantly demonstrated in one of the most important early sources for the later
Byzantine imagery of the Rus’, namely the description of the Avar-Slav siege of Constantinople in 626,
which was seen both as the fulfilment of the prophecies of Isaiah and Ezekiel, yet at the same time
27 See the original Syriac Revelation in Martinez 1985, 122–154, and its English translations in Martinez 1985, 122–154, and
Alexander 1985, 36–51. Compare the First Slavonic Translation in Istrin 1897, 84–101.
28 See Regan 2001, v–viii.
29 Paul J. Alexander made several studies of the legend of the Last Emperor, including Alexander 1971, 47–68, and Alexander
1978, 1–15, where he showed the enormous impact of this Byzantine apocalyptic theme on western Europe. His major work in
Byzantine apocalyptic studies was published posthumously, in Alexander 1985. Other important studies on the topic are Reinik
1999 and Verbeke, Verhelst & Welkenhuysten 1988. Major Russian studies on the subject date from over a century ago in the works
of Veselovsky 1875a, 283–331; Veselovsky 1875b, 48–130; and Istrin 1897. See also Whitby 1999, 73; Möhring 1999; Magdalino 1993,
18–19; Kaegi, 2003, 229; El-Cheikh 1999, 12.
30 See Magdalino 1993, 10–11, 19, n 65; Leadbetter 2006, 368, 377–379; Olster 2000, 48–73; Alexander 1985, 62–63, n44.
31 See Gabriele 2007, 61–82.
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followed a long tradition of combining the classical nomad image of the Scythian with the Christian
interpretation of the fate of the empire.32 Andrew of Caesarea (563–637) saw the combined Avar and
Slav forces as ‘Scythian’ hordes threatening the empire and corresponding to the unclean nations of
In the battle of 626 the Slavs took over the naval attack, which was miraculously stopped by the
Mother of God. The imagery of this unsuccessful attempt to conquer Constantinople offered a ready
narrative in later Byzantine historiography and was appropriated to describe the Rus’ attack on
Byzantium in 860, which for its part was further reflected in the Primary Chronicle’s description of
that attack. The Avar-Slav attack of 626 and the Rus’ attack of 860 had remarkable similarities. On
both occasions, when the attack was launched, the emperor was away from the capital: in 626 Heraclius
was fighting the Persians, and in 860, Emperor Michael was fighting the Arabs, or the ‘Hagarenes’, as
the Primary Chronicle has it.34 The most notable feature in the imagery of the wars of Heraclius and
Michael III was the heavenly protection of Constantinople. The Avar-Slav assault of 626 was repelled by
a miraculous intervention of the Virgin, which led to the composition of the famous Akathistos hymn;
the role of Patriarch Sergius in the historical imagery of the city’s survival corresponded to that of
The Byzantine conceptions of people from the land called Rus’ were related to an eschatological end.
This fearful conception was further strengthened by the name Rus’ itself, which recalled the Prophecy
of Ezekiel (38:1–4) in which Gog and Magog were depicted as rulers of Rhos who would ultimately
strike God’s Chosen People. The biblical imagery of the destructive rulers of Rhos was forcefully used
by one of the classical historians of Byzantium, Leo the Deacon (b. ca 950), who gave a very colourful
description of the Rus’ forces in his History, echoing fearful millennial predictions in depicting Kievan
Prince Svyatoslav Igor’evich’s raid on the Balkans in 968−71.36 Leo observed that in the course of his
32 An excellent survey of Late Antiquity and Early Christian perceptions of the ‘Scythic’ nations threatening the Roman Empire is
presented in Mänchen-Helfen 1973. See also McGinn 1979.
33 Commentarius in Apocalypsin, 416c. See Mänchen-Helfen 1973, 5. Andrew of Caesarea wrote an influential commentary on
the Book of Revelation, which was preserved in nearly 100 complete Greek manuscripts, and in Armenian and Slavic manuscripts
in translation. See Maas 1907, 473. See also Analecta Avarica, Tom. 14, 298–320, esp. 314ff. See Magdalino 1993, 18. In particular,
Analecta Avarica, Tom. 15, contains materials written in the 9th and 10th centuries, recalling the Avar-Slav attack on 7 August 626
and the miraculous salvation of the city. See Bibikov 2004, 289. See also Nicephorus Constantinopolitanus, Short History, 61. There
are altogether three extant 7th-century texts relating to the events of the Avar-Slav attack in 626: a sermon attributed to Theodore
Syncellos, an excerpt from the Chronicon Paschale, vol. I, 716–726, and a poem by Georgios of Pisidia; Giorgio di Pisidia. Poemi,
176–224. See Pencheva 2002, 5.
34 PVL 6374 (866), 21,11–21,12.
35 See Bissera V. Pentcheva’s study on the development of the different aspects of the cult of Virgin as the protector of the imperial
capital in Pentcheva 2002, 2–41.
36 In 986 Leo the Deacon accompanied Emperor Basil II in his disastrous expedition to Bulgaria and barely escaped with his life
when, on their way back, the Byzantine army was defeated by Rus’ forces. See Talbot & Sullivan 2005, 9–15. See also Kazhdan 2006,
273–288.
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Past and Present in Medieval Chronicles
life many unusual events had occurred and remarked that ‘Some think that the Second Coming of the
Saviour is near, at the very gates’37; he made further reference to ‘Ezekiel, who alludes to them [the Rus’,
whom Leo also called Tauroscythians], when he said: ‘Behold, I will bring upon you Gog and Magog,
The Byzantine images of the nations of Gog and Magog, which God was to send from the north
according to the Book of Ezekiel, were readily connected with the old stereotype of nomadic, blood-
thirsty Scythians derived from the classical description by Herodotus. I argue that the author of the
Primary Chronicle was well aware of the Byzantine perceptions of the Rus’39 and therefore made an
effort to show how earlier Byzantine notions of the Rus’ and their participation in the last events of
the world had been erroneously constructed by presenting an alternative world view, which derived
from the notion of rivalry between the descendants of Abraham. In this rivalry the Rus’ represented
the descendants of Isaac, the youngest son of Abraham, Rus’ being the youngest nation of converted
pagans, while the Polovtsy represented the wild and warlike descendants of Ishmael and were seen
as the apocalyptic nation according to the typology of one of the most influential apocalypses of the
medieval world.
In the Bible Ishmael and his mother, Hagar, were cast into the desert when Isaac’s legitimacy was
announced by God. Ishmael’s troubled relationship with his relatives was foretold when God announced
to Hagar that she would bear a son who was to be called Ishmael. ‘He shall be a wild donkey of a man,
his hand against everyone and everyone’s hand against him, and he shall dwell over against all his
kinsmen.’ (Genesis 16:12.) The dichotomy between Isaac and Ishmael is absent from the Qur’an, which
credits Ishmael and his father, Abraham, with building the Kaaba in Mecca as a pilgrimage destination
for monotheism. 40
In a widespread conception, European Christians saw themselves as the spiritual followers of Isaac,
the younger son of Abraham, whose mother, Sarah, was Abraham’s lawful wife. This view was forcefully
stressed by one of the most eloquent rhetoricians of Kievan Rus’, the Metropolitan Ilarion of Kiev, in
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his Sermon on Law and Grace (Slovo o zakone i blagodati), which he delivered sometime around the
year 1050. 41 Metropolitan Ilarion discussed the story of Ishmael and Isaac as a reference to an old law
of the Jews and the new grace of the Christians. He lingered over the allegory of Hagar and Sarah in
speaking of ‘Law’ and ‘Grace’, but for Ilarion, the sons of Abraham offered an important analogy to Jews
The terms ‘Ishmaelites’, ‘Hagarenes’ and ‘Saracens’ were valued by Muslims as indicative of their
origin and of their adherence to the earliest monotheism, yet the terms were also adopted by Christian
polemicists in order to demonstrate that the Muslims were illegitimate children of Abraham and false
monotheists. 43 After the rapid Arab expansion, a large part of the Byzantine oikoumene – namely
Alexandria, Jerusalem, Edessa and Antioch – was cut off from the Byzantine Empire, yet it continued
to nurture its Orthodox heritage in circumstances where the religious opinions of Christians and
Muslims clashed. In these circumstances eschatological interpretations of history arose, and the image
of the Ishmaelites was given new features, as they were regarded as forerunners of the Antichrist. 44 The
question of Muslims as ‘Ishmaelites’ or ‘Hagarenes’ became especially heated during the Crusades. 45
Below I seek to demonstrate how the Primary Chronicle uses the term in a way that is characteristic of
Isidorus of Seville (ca 560–636), the great visionary of the Visi-Gothic past, explained in his
highly influential Etymologiae the names of the men who were founders of the peoples: ‘Ishmael,
son of Abraham, from whom come the Ishmaelites, whose name now has been corrupted to Saracens
(“Saraceni”), as if from Sarah, and Agarenes (“Agareni”) from Hagar.’46 He also gave a fuller explanation
of the term:
41 Ilarion’s famous image of ‘the shadow and the truth’, a metaphor for the Old and New Testaments, as well as for Judaism and
Christianity can be traced through the church fathers, such as Origen, Cyril of Alexandria, John Chrysostom, Eusebius and Jerome.
See Franklin 1991, xliii.
42 Ilarion, Slovo o zakone i blagodati. See the English translation in Franklin 1991, 5–6. See also Hurwitz 1980, 325. As early as
the 6th century in his Kontakion, ‘On the Nativity of the Virgin Mary’, the hymnographer Romanos Melodos described Sarah as
prefiguring the Virgin Mary; see Kontakia of Romanos.
43 Sahas 1972, 70–71.
44 In 743 John of Damascus (ca 655–750) wrote his Fount of Knowledge, which included a chapter De Haeresibus, in which John
discussed the heresy of the Ishmaelites. During the same year 743 Peter, the bishop of Maiuma, publicly condemned Islam, calling
Muhammad a ‘false prophet’ and the ‘forerunner of the Antichrist’. Sahas 1972, 52–69.
45 See Mil’kov 2000, Senderovich 2000, 492, and Chekin 2000, 706.
46 Isidorus, Etymologies 9:2:6. Cf. Chronica maiora, § 13: ‘Abraham annorum c. genuit Isaac, ex Sara libera. Nam primum ex
ancilla Agar genuerat Ismael, a quo Ismaelitarum gens qui postea Agareni, ad ultimum Saraceni sunt dicti.’ John V. Tolan assumes
that Isidore had taken this identification from Jerome, who in his Commentarii in Ezechielem writes about ‘madianaeos, ismaelitas
et agarenos – qui nunc saraceni appellantur’, Hier. in Ezech. 48,30. CCSL 75:25. See Tolan 2002, 10, 287.
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Saracens are so called either because they claim to be descended from Sarah or because (as the pagans say) they
are of Syrian origin, like the Surigenes. They live in a vast desert. They are also called the Ishmaelites, as Genesis
teaches, because they are from Ishmael. Or [they are called] Cedar after the name of Ishmael’s son. They are also
called Hagarens from Hagar. They are, as we said, erroneously called Saracens, because they falsely pride themselves
Isidorus’s explanation of the words Hagarens and Saracens has a strong similarity to the explanation
in the Primary Chronicle in the entry for the year 6604 (1096 AD), where the ethnological origin of the
The godless sons of Ishmael, who had been sent as punishment to the Christians, killed some of our brothers with
their weapons. For they came from the desert of Yathrib, from the land lying between north and east. Four branches
(коленъ 4) came forth: Torkmens, Pechenegs, Torks, and Polovtsy. Of them Methodius tells that eight branches fled
when Gideon massacred them; eight fled to the desert, and four he massacred. Others say that they are the sons of
Ammon, but this is not true, for the Caspians are the sons of Moab, while the Bulgars are the sons of Ammon. But
the Saracens descended from Ishmael became known as the sons of Sarah and called themselves Saracens, that is to
In this way the Primary Chronicle of Kiev proves to be a full-fledged heir to a long medieval tradition
of mapping humankind and finding a place for each nation in the postdiluvian world. Defining the
relationship of the Rus’ to the Ishmaelites became essential. In the following sections I will demonstrate
Another important feature of the imagery of the northern nations was semi-mythical, arising from
the Alexander Romance, which included descriptions of filthy, unclean people imprisoned behind
mountains locked with iron gates by Alexander the Great. 49 This mythical image of the unclean nation
merged with eschatological imagery, oiled by Christian conceptions of Christ’s Second Coming and the
end of the world, as ideas of a barbaric people whom God would send to punish the Christians at the
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The Primary Chronicle made specific reference to both Ishmaelites and the unclean nations in the
entry for the year 6604 (1096), a year when the Polovtsy onslaught devastated the outskirts of Kiev and
attacked the Caves Monastery itself. With this reference the chronicler sought to explain the origins
of the Polovtsy, as well as their historical and apocalyptic significance by naming four steppe nations
representing the tribes of Ishmaelites: the Torkmen, the Pechenegs, the Turks and the Polovtsy, all of
whom had a history of confronting Kievan Rus’. Then the chronicler reveals that his imagery of the
steppe neighbours of Kievan Rus’ was derived from the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius. The Chronicle
states that those four tribes were all that was left of the Ishmaelites after Gideon had slain four other
tribes, as was told by Methodius.51 The chronicler then strongly implied that biblical history continued
The passage further explains the relationship between the Ishmaelites and the unclean people,
stating that the unclean had descended from the Ishmaelites.52 Even though the Primary Chronicle
indicates a common origin for both groups in Ishmael, in a somewhat obscure manner it also makes
clear that the unclean do not represent the Ishmaelite tribes per se. What united both tribes was their
common mission as an instrument of God, as the Chronicle goes on to explain that the Ishmaelites
and the unclean people will take up arms against the Christians in the last days of the world,53 thereby
following the original idea in the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius. The unclean people appear in the
Chronicle in a story that the chronicler had heard from the Novgorodian Giuryata, who had travelled
north in the lands of the Samoyeds and learned that human voices had been heard in the mountains.
These were interpreted as voices of the people who had been shut inside the mountain by Alexander the
Thus, although the distinction between these two barbaric and filthy apocalyptic peoples has
been made, the Primary Chronicle shows a tendency to combine the image of the Ishmaelites and the
unclean people.55 Repulsive norms were also essential to the image of the Ishmaelites in the Revelation
of Pseudo-Methodius.56 In its prediction that in the last days the Ishmaelites and the nations shut
within the mountains will be set free, the Primary Chronicle clearly suggested that the end was near:
the war against the Ishmaelites had already begun, and the filthy people were on the move, their voices
already heard.
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As the heirs of Abraham and his son Isaac with whom God made His covenant, the Rus’ had to earn
His protection by righteous behaviour. When His people did not behave righteously, God chastised
and punished them. In the Primary Chronicle we find the idea of God’s punishment and the notion of
apocalyptic expectancy tied together. Along with adopting the images of Ishmaelites from the Revelation
of Pseudo-Methodius whenever Rus’ wars against the Polovtsy are mentioned, the Primary Chronicle
simultaneously stressed the chastisement of God and called on people to repent. The sermonising
attitude connected with the lost wars against the Polovtsy appears forcefully made for the first time
in the Chronicle’s entry corresponding to our year 1068, when ‘a great host of strangers, numerous
Polovtsy’57 fought against the joint forces of the Rus’ princes Izyaslav, Svyatoslav and Vsevolod. The
sermon has often been treated as a separate essay entitled Instruction on the Punishment of God
(Pouchenie o kaznyakh bozhiikh) or Oration on the Punishment of God (Slovo o kaznyakh bozhiikh),58
God in his wrath causes foreigners to attack a nation, and then, when its inhabitants are thus crushed by the invaders,
they remember God. Internecine strife is incited by the craft of the devil. For God wishes men not evil but good, while
the devil takes his delight in cruel murder and bloodshed, and therefore incites quarrels, envy, domestic strife and
slander. When any nation has sinned, God punishes them by death or famine or pagan incursion, by drought or a
The idea that the wrath of God affected history was typical of medieval man. The consequences
of man’s fall forced God to act in the human sphere, as God was compelled to discipline man for his
own good with various punishments. After Adam’s fall human nature was dominated by its less noble
traits: fickleness, obstinacy, heedlessness, lust, pride, cruelty, greed and pugnaciousness. Men knew the
opposites of these traits, but in their stubbornness refused to embrace their better natures. God in his
mercy thus had to intervene, like a father chastising his children, to restore man to his former state of
grace. In the Latin west St Augustine (354–430) and especially Orosius (b. ca 375, d. before 418) with
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his book Seven Books against the Pagans influenced historical thought as well as medieval perceptions
In eastern Christianity the most often cited authority on this question was Gregory the Theologian
(of Nazianzus, ca 325–389), a church father of the fourth century, who in his Oration 16, On his Father’s
Silence, Because of the Plague of Hail, spoke of the wrath of God visited upon humans through natural
catastrophes, floods, earthquakes, diseases, fires and the like.61 Gregory stressed that human sins were
the cause of this wrath and that by submitting oneself to God with tears, repentance and most of
all by showing love to the poor and unfortunate, man would soften God’s heart and thereby avoid
punishment. An important aspect of this great church father’s instructions was that individual sinners
could cause an entire nation to suffer, while individual repentance could prevent the wrath of God from
V. V. Mil’kov states that the idea of the punishment of God (teoriya kazney bozhiikh) in the Primary
Chronicle was derived from the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius.63 Clearly, that is the case, since the
And thus they [Greeks] too will be exterminated in Gaba’ot by Ishmael, the wild ass of the desert, who was sent in
the wrath of ire against men and against animals and against cattle and against trees and against plants. And it is
a punishment in which there is no love. And these four leaders will be sent before them against the entire earth,
Ruin and Destroyer and Desolation and Despoiler for every existing city. Also it was not because God loves the
sons of Ishmael that he granted them entry into the kingdom of the Christians, but because of the iniquity and sin
However, the first sermon on the topic of God’s wrath in the Primary Chronicle, added sub anno
1068, did not speak of the Polovtsy as Ishmaelites, but simply as pagans. The shift in terminology
when speaking of the Polovtsy changed from pagans to Ishmaelites only with an entry in the year 6601
AM (1093 AD). This was the year when Prince Svyatopolk Michael ascended the Kievan throne, and
the Primary Chronicle described the Polovtsy as the ‘scheming sons of Ishmael’ (лукавии сыновье
Измаилови).65 In that entry the Chronicle’s idea of God’s punishment was further developed and the
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God set the pagans on us, not because he held them dear, but to chastise us that we might abstain from evil deeds.
He thus punishes us by the incursions of the pagans, for they are God’s cudgels [батогъ Божии] that we may repent
The Primary Chronicle placed the misfortunes taking place in Rus’ in a global context, which would
Let no one marvel at these misfortunes: ‘For condign chastisement ensues wherever many sins are committed.’ For
this reason the world shall ultimately be betrayed [Сего ради въселеная предасть ся], for this reason the wrath has
been spread abroad, for this reason the land has fallen prey to torment....’67
This reference to the End Time is understandable, given the closeness of the round date of the year
6600. Not only the close of millennia, but also the centennials stirred apocalyptic restlessness during
the Middle Ages.68 Although it is often stated that millennialism or chiliasm (from Latin and Greek
words respectively for ‘a thousand’) played a minor role in Byzantium, this view, after a century of
pushing the matter aside as a myth of millennialism, was again given scholarly scrutiny by Richard
Landes in 2000.69 In 2003 Paul Magdalino convincingly demonstrated how expectations of the coming
end were intensified in Byzantium towards the end of the tenth century. 70 Aleksej Gippius demonstrated
The Byzantine chronological computus rested on anno mundi (AM, ‘in the year of the world’).
In this system, the world was believed to have been created 5,508 years before a year which in the
western calendar was established as the year of the birth of Christ (a dating suggested by the Anglo-
Saxon historian, the Venerable Bede). Thus, in the Byzantine calendar the year 1000 AD was the year
6508 anno mundi. Yet neither in Byzantium nor in Rus’ was 5508 AM considered to be the date of
Incarnation. Throughout the Middle Ages Byzantium clung to the chronology computed in the second
and third centuries in Antioch, which placed the birth of Christ 5,500 years after the Creation. This
computation was also presented in the Primary Chronicle in the Speech of the Philosopher, where a
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Greek philosopher explained to Prince Vladimir the main points of Christian history.72 This meant that
round jubilee years of centennial dates 6500 AM prompted millennial expectations, and it highlights
As Gippius states, the habit of celebrating and sanctifying round dates already existed in Hebrew
legislation of the Old Law, where it was stated that every fiftieth year should be celebrated (Leviticus
25:10). The interest in round dates was further intensified by the idea of the sabbatical millennium,
developed by the early Christians. With this eschatological teaching the history of mankind was
compared to the biblical week of Creation and divided into seven periods of a thousand years each
based on Psalm 90: ‘1000 years is a day in the sight of the Lord’. Hence, the thousand-year kingdom
promised in Revelation (20:1) corresponding to the Sabbath of Genesis 1 was supposed to begin in the
year 6000.73
By this reckoning, the significant dates were the year 6000, corresponding to the end of the day on
which God had completed his creation of the world, and the year 7000, corresponding to the day on
which God rested from his labours. However, the seventh day of Creation, when God rested, was open-
ended and not defined by morning and evening like the previous six. In the course of the millennium
from 492 to 1492, the appointment with doomsday was thus frequently rescheduled. Magdalino
satisfactorily shows that, of all these intermediate dates, those in the middle of the seventh Byzantine
millennium, corresponding to the first Christian millennium, were by far the most important, but after
In his article published in 2003 Aleksej Gippius made an in-depth survey of the response to
millennialism in Rus’, and his results are intriguing. He convincingly pointed out that the Rus’ church
also observed the decennial jubilees of the church, a matter that was made official in the Catholic
Church in 1300, but never officially adopted in eastern Christianity. According to data taken from
medieval Russian chronicles, Gippius further demonstrated that at the dawn of every new century,
there was increased activity in church building and relic transformations in Rus’.75
The year 6600 therefore is of crucial importance for understanding the whole setting of the Primary
Chronicle. The entries at the turn of decennium for the years 6799 (1091) and 6600 (1092) were full
of omens and sightings of celestial bodies; there were solar eclipses, huge serpents falling from the
72 PVL 102,9–102,10.
73 See Gippius 2003, 156, 158.
74 Magdalino 2003, 233–270.
75 Gippius 2003, 154–171.
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sky, witches, haunted devils, Polovtsian armies and deadly diseases.76 These cosmic events played
an important part in apocalyptic prophesies of the Scriptures. The beginning of the rule of Prince
Svyatopolk-Michael is a continuation of these fearful signs of the End Time, and it is in relation to this
that the shift of terminology used for the Polovtsy acquires a convincing explanation. It is a question
of a narrative choice by the chronicler, who is writing about happenings of the End Time. By using the
Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius as a typological source for the characters of history, the chronicler
With punishment as its central theme, the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius vividly describes the
sufferings of the Christians and the cruelties of the Ishmaelites; God allows the Ishmaelites to torture
the Christians in various ways, even blaspheming their faith by saying, ‘The Christians have no saviour’.77
The typology of blasphemous Ishmaelites is especially clear in the Primary Chronicle in the entry
describing the attack of the Polovtsy on the Caves Monastery in 1093. This must have been a shocking
event, leaving strong personal memories of suffering among the brothers of the monastery, perhaps
even with the chronicler himself. The attack depicting a scene of blaspheming Ishmaelites has clear
But God suffered their [Polovtsy] iniquities because their sins, and their transgressions were not completed. Thus
they said, ‘Where is their God? Let Him come and deliver them,’ and they made other blasphemous remarks about
the holy icons, which they mocked, because they did not know that God punishes his servants by attacks and wars so
that they may appear as gold which has been tried in the furnace. The Christians, by virtue of their many sufferings
and oppressions, shall enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but these pagans and blasphemers, who in this world enjoy
happiness and increase, shall suffer torment at the hand of the devil, since they are destined for everlasting fire.78
In preaching that God punishes his flock in this world so that they might escape eternal punishment
in the next, the Chronicle followed the sermons of many other Christian thinkers. At the same time
this idea of punishment required acute suffering 79 and ultimately changed the whole rhetoric of war
in the Primary Chronicle. In describing the sufferings of the Christians at the hands of the Polovtsy,
the chronicler repeated the means of humiliation in the passage from Pseudo-Methodius’s apocalypse
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mentioned above. The image of the tortured citizens of Torzhesk is realistic and heartbreaking; the
chronicler depicts them dragged into captivity suffering from cold, hunger and thirst, their tongues
Even if the Chronicle’s description of the cruelties inflicted by the Polovtsy may seem less monstrous
compared with other contemporary texts in which the image of the Saracens was blackened during the
time of the First Crusade,81 the change in war rhetoric within the Primary Chronicle itself is nevertheless
obvious. Earlier wars had produced no such dramatic descriptions of people’s sufferings, but suddenly,
in the very year that Svyatopolk-Michael became the ruler of Kiev (1093), the tone completely changes.
The chronicler himself explained the reasons for the sudden change, for he had a clear vision of how
historical events were seen, announcing that the torments taking place in Rus’ were part of something
bigger:
It was thus the prophet said, ‘I will change your feasts into mourning and your songs into lamentations.’ For God
caused great mourning in our land; our villages and our towns were laid waste, and we fled before our foes. As the
prophet said, ‘You shall be slain before your enemies; they that hate you shall oppress you, and you shall flee when
none pursues you. I will break the arrogance of your pride, and your strength shall be spent in vain. The sword of the
stranger will kill you, your land shall be desolate, and your courts laid waste. For you are worthless and contrary, and
I will also walk contrary to you in anger, said the Lord God of Israel.’ For the malignant sons of Ishmael were burning
These horrors of war serve as an introduction to the impressive high point of the Chronicle’s
narrative, for eventually God relinquished his anger with the Rus’, according to the Revelation of
Pseudo-Methodius, which first described the horrors that the Ishmaelites caused the Christians, but
ended with the ‘sudden awakening’83 of the Last Emperor and his triumph. Thus, the heavy losses of
the Rus’ at the beginning of Svyatopolk-Michael’s rule fit the imagery of the Revelation perfectly. The
one great deviation from that imagery is that it was not the ruler himself, Svyatopolk-Michael, but his
cousin, Vladimir Monomakh, who forcefully stepped in as the hero of the triumphant battle of 1103,
when ‘God on high inspired an awful fear in the Polovtsy, so that terror and trembling beset them at the
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…the King of Greece [i.e. the Last Emperor] will seize the places in the desert and will destroy with the sword the
remnant left of them in the Promised Land. And the fear of all those around them will fall upon them. They and their
wives and their sons and their leaders and all their camps and their entire land in the desert of their fathers will be
given into the hands of the kings of the Greeks, and will be given up to desolation and destruction and captivity and
murder.85
With the enemy destroyed, the Chronicle continued with the Pseudo-Methodius theme, telling how
the leaders of the Ishmaelites were killed, and specifically depicting how, on the instructions of Prince
Vladimir, one of them – a chief called Beldyuz – was beaten to death in punishment for not having kept
his vows of peace and for spilling Christian blood.86 Just as the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius had
prophesied that the camps of the enemies would be emptied, so the Primary Chronicle rejoiced in the
Thereafter, all the kinsmen gathered together, and Vladimir exclaimed, ‘This is the day that the Lord has made, let
us rejoice and be glad in it. For the Lord has freed us from our foes, and put down our enemies, and crushed the
serpents’ heads. He has given them as food to the men of Rus’.’ They [the Rus’] thus seized sheep and cattle, horses
and camels, tents with booty and slaves, and they captured Pechenegs and Torks together with their tents. They then
returned to Rus’ carrying great spoils, with glory and a great victory won.87
Given the narrative strategy of the Primary Chronicle, it is clear that historical events demanded
the presence of the Last Emperor on the scene, a perfect match with the images from the Revelation
of Pseudo-Methodius. And given the timing of the Emperor’s rise to the Kievan throne, what could be
more fitting than to accentuate the apocalyptic essence of the numbered years, which the Chronicle so
devotedly had recorded beginning with the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Michael. Prince Svyatopolk-
Michael together with his cunning cousin of shrewd military expertise were marked with the recognisable
features of the Last Emperor, the one who would defeat the Ishmaelites. In the next and last section of
85 Syriac Revelation, English translation in Alexander 1983, 48–49. Compare the First Slavonic Translation in Istrin 1897, 97–98.
86 PVL 6611 (1103), 279,3–279,19.
87 PVL 6611 (1103), 279,19–279,28.
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Apocalyptic Michael
By applying Pseudo-Methodius’s imagery to the Polovtsy as the villains of the End Time, the Primary
Chronicle fundamentally changed the role of the Kievan prince, turning him into an eschatological
figure. This connection gained strength from the cult of the Archangel Michael. Michael had a messianic
role as the Prince of Light who fought the Prince of Darkness; as the commander-in-chief of the host
of angels, he naturally assumed the task of Protector of God’s Chosen People.88 Michael’s attribute was
light, and the scriptural definition of his angelic nature was fire and wind (Ps. 104:4).
The tenth and eleventh centuries witnessed an extraordinary increase in interest in the Archangel,
especially in the years 950–1050, thanks to the Christianisation of warfare and the discovery of
the writings of Pseudo-Dionysius in western Europe in the ninth century, which acknowledged the
hierarchy of spirits and recognised the function of archangels as messengers. Also in this period the
apocalyptic role of the Archangel increased in importance because of the imagery of Michael’s role in
the Last Judgement and in the previous wars of the empire. The connection between the Cross and
the Archangel Michael is especially interesting.89 The Primary Chronicle is almost obsessed with the
sign of the Cross, which is the ultimate Christian emblem of triumph over the forces of darkness, as
In the settings of medieval worship, where miracle-working relics were central, the cult of angels was
problematic, because angels, not being physical in their essence, could not produce relics. However, as a
bodiless and imageless object of veneration the Archangel Michael had his own means of demonstrating
his essence and being: he frequently appeared in the countryside, often on mountain tops, manifesting
himself in fiery pillars.91 The high hills of Kiev were the perfect place for the angel of the Chosen People
to appear.
This angelic manifestation – a fiery pillar – was seen in the Caves Monastery of Kiev on 11 February
6618 (1110 AD). The monastery was exactly the kind of place in which the Archangel manifested
elsewhere in Europe during that time – on sacred mountains where churches were carved within the
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rocks. Psellus (1018–1081) gives an interesting description of a miracle which took place in Asia Minor
similar to the fiery pillar of the Caves Monastery: in both places a fiery pillar was seen at the Church of
the Mother of God.92 The Primary Chronicle remarks that the fiery pillar at the Caves Monastery was
that of an angel who foretold that the Rus’ forces would later march under the leadership of this angel
During the same year, there was a portent in the Cave Monastery on February 11: a fiery pillar appeared, which
reached from earth to heaven, its lightning illuminated the whole land, and thunder was heard in the sky at the first
hour of the night. The whole world saw this. The pillar stood over the stone refectory, so that its cross could not be
seen, and after remaining there awhile, entered into the church, and halted over the tomb of Feodosiy. Then it rose,
This was not an actual pillar of fire, but an angelic manifestation: for an angel appears thus, either as a pillar of fire
or as a flame. As David has said, ‘He makes His angels winds and his servants a flaming fire’, and they are sent forth
by the will of God, according to the desire of the Lord and Creator of all things. For an angel appears wherever there
are blessed abodes and houses of prayer, and they exhibit such portion of their aspect as it is possible for men to look
upon. Indeed, it is impossible for men to behold angelic form, for even the mighty Moses could not view the angelic
being: for a pillar of cloud led them by day and a pillar of fire by night, but it was not a pillar that led them, but an
angel went ahead of them during the day and night. This apparition indicated an event which was destined to take
place, and its presage was later realised. For in the following year, was not an angel the guide of our princes against
our foreign foes (иноплеменьникы супостаты)? Even as it is written: ‘An angel shall go before you’, and again, ‘Your
Right after this, the Primary Chronicle ends in the Laurentian manuscript, followed by the colophon
of Igumen Sylvester:
In the hope of God’s grace, I, Sylvester, Igumen of St. Michael’s, wrote this chronicle in the year 6624 [1116 AD], the
ninth of the indiction, during the reign of Prince Vladimir in Kiev, while I was presiding over St Michael’s monastery.
92 Michael Psellus, Oration on the Miracles of the Archangel Michael, 238.179–239.192. The English translation in Peers 2001,
172–173.
93 PVL 6618 (1110), 284,5–285,7. See also Likhachev 1996, 541.
94 Lavrent’evskaya letopis’, 274. When Monk Lavrentiy wrote his parchment manuscript, he used a chronicle written up to the year
1305 as his source. But this source had many lacunae, and it also lacked the ending of the Primary Chronicle. It has therefore been
suggested that Monk Sylvester’s colophon must have been written on a separate leaf for it to have survived. See Likhachev 1996, 541;
O. Tolochko 2008, 130–139.
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The Primary Chronicle, as it appears in the Laurentian manuscript, thus ends abruptly with the
story of a miracle.95 When compared to the Hypatian manuscript (and manuscripts related to it) of the
Chronicle, it is obvious that the Laurentian manuscript ending is a torso and lacks its final pages. What
complicates the matter is that in the Hypatian branch of manuscripts, the Primary Chronicle does not
have a clear break, but continues by following the reigns of the Kievan rulers of the twelfth century. On
stylistic evidence it has been argued that the Primary Chronicle in the Hypatian manuscript ends with
the entry for the year 1117 AD.96 The argument clearly contradicts the fact that Igumen Sylvester wrote
his copy of the chronicle in 1116. Hypotheses about the later redactions of the Primary Chronicle are
very complicated, since no surviving manuscripts represent a ‘pure’ text with the original ending of the
Nevertheless, in order to understand the narrative setting of the Primary Chronicle, I argue that it is
essential to examine the Chronicle’s ending in the Hypatian manuscript. Even though we cannot evaluate
its source value in comparison to the no longer extant ‘original’ ending, the Hypatian manuscript is
the only text to preserve the last events of the Primary Chronicle. Therefore, I will continue with the
miraculous sign that took place in the Caves Monastery on 11 February 1110 and its explanation, for
which the chronicler followed the Chronicle of George Hamartolus,98 quoted at length in the next annual
entry. The continuation of the Primary Chronicle in the Hypatian manuscript states that without God’s
favour, the Christian Rus’ princes were powerless, but because of their prayers and their appeal to the
Mother of God, God’s heart was softened and he sent his angel to the Rus’ princes.99 Making an analogy
between the pagan Hellenistic troops of Alexander the Macedonian who conquered Jerusalem and
the pagan Polovtsy who fought against Kiev in his own time, the chronicler explained that sometimes
“because of our sins” God permits these attacks to take place. He then continues with discussion on
the role of angels, explaining that each nation, including even a pagan one, has its own angel. However,
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Christian nations have a significant advantage, as each Christian has his own angel-protector, and here
But let be it known that the Christians do not have just one angel, but many, as there are many who are baptised,
and let us emphasise that every Orthodox prince has his angel, but these cannot resist God’s will, but they do pray
assiduously on behalf of the Christians. And thus it happened: because of the prayers of the Holy Mother of God and
the Holy Angels, God became merciful, and He sent the angels to help the princes of Rus’ against the pagans.100
As we can see, the Chronicle emphasises the role of a personal guardian angel for each Orthodox
prince. For the Rus’, this meant a guardian angel for its ruling Prince Svyatopolk – none other than the
Earlier in this article it was mentioned that in the later Slavonic version of the Revelation the Last
Emperor was called by the name Michael. Just when the name was attached to the figure of the Last
Emperor is impossible to know. It is possible that this had already happened during the time of Boris-
Michael of Bulgaria in the late ninth century, but the Primary Chronicle gives a clear indication that
if not already adopted, the image was certainly in use when the Chronicle was written in Kiev in the
early twelfth century. Prince Svyatopolk’s guardian angel played a key role in the Rus’ victory over the
Polovtsy, and thus Svyatopolk-Michael’s name was implied as being a likely source of the apocalyptic
The Interpolated Slavonic Redaction of the Revelation depicts the victory of the Emperor Michael
But he [Michael] will rise up as if awakened from sleep, take up his sword and say: ‘Bring me a swift horse.’ He will
go against them [the Ishmaelites] with great fury and raise his sword against them. God’s angel, who at first was
with them, will be with Michael against them. And their [the Ishmaelites’] hearts will turn weak like water, and their
bodies will melt like wax, and they will lose their manliness. And they will perish from fear, not being able to look at
the strength of God. And then the Emperor [царь] Michael will conquer the countless numbers of Ishmaelites, and
Essentially, this is what takes place among the Polovtsy in the Primary Chronicle’s continuation as
represented in the Hypatian manuscripts in the description of the war of 1111: the combatants become
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frightened of the terrifying sight of the Archangel Michael, who slaughters the Polovtsy right before the
In a witty dialogue with his cousin Svyatopolk, Vladimir Monomakh is depicted in the Primary
Chronicle entries for 1103 and 1111 as the warrior of God and initiator of the Polovtsy wars.102 The
preparations for the 1111 campaign were immense, and many princes joined in. First, the Rus’ troops
took the city of Sharukan, and the priests are depicted as singing liturgical melodies at the command
of Vladimir Monomakh as his men storm the city. The noble Rus’ warriors gaze heavenward with tears
in their eyes as they march through the gates of the conquered city. Then, somewhere near the River
Don on the 24th of March, the Rus’ confront the Polovtsy. The Chronicle informs us how ‘God on high
directed His fearsome eyes at the strangers (на иноплеменников), and they began to fall in front of
the Christians.’103
After a few days the two armies met again, and God was again on the side of the Rus’. The Chronicle
depicts the battle of the 27th of March as follows: ‘And before the troops of Vladimir the Polovtsy fell,
killed by an invisible angel; the occasion was testified to by many, as heads flew to the ground smitten
by the unseen.’104 The captured Polovtsy prisoners lamented that they had no chance of victory when
the Rus’ had such a terrifying image flying before their troops, carrying shiny and frightening weapons.
The chronicler then comes to the conclusion that the angel seen in the Caves Monastery a few months
earlier had been the same angel who gave Vladimir Monomakh the idea of going to war. 105 At the end of
As Ioann Zlatoust [Chrysostomos] said, it is appropriate to praise angels, for they pray to the Creator to be forever
merciful and favourable towards the people. Let me tell you: the angels are our saviours when we fight the forces
With this miraculous victory the narrative reaches its high point, which represents the whole purpose
of the Primary Chronicle, namely to depict the rise of the Rus’ from barbarian oblivion to their place as
102 PVL 6611 (1103), 277,1–277,18 and Ipat’evskaya letopis’, 6619 (1111), 191.
103 Ipat’evskaya letopis’, 6619 (1111), 192. The exact geographical location of the River Degey is uncertain. See the commentary in
Likhachev 1996, 543.
104 Ipat’evskaya letopis’, 6619 (1111), 193.
105 Ipat’evskaya letopis’, 6619 (1111), 193.
106 Ipat’evskaya letopis’, 6619 (1111), 193.
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Likewise now, with the help of God, and with the help of the prayers of the Mother of God and the holy angels, the
Rus’ princes came back followed by great renown, which spread to all people, even to the most remote places, to
Greeks, Ugry [the Hungarians], Lyakhi [the Poles], and Czechs, even to distant Rome itself, in praise of God; now and
It was clearly important to the chronicler to prove first of all to the Greeks and other nations that
Rus’ was fighting with God on its side. When God finally relented towards the Rus’ princes, he allowed
the guardian angel of its ruling prince to assist in the victory over the pagans. Given that Michael was
the arch-strategist, the protector of God’s Chosen People, Kiev was made into a New Jerusalem and the
Rus’, God’s Chosen People. Therefore, the happenings of the Final Days did not necessarily need the
‘Old’ Jerusalem. In this regard Rus’ was fighting its Crusade on Kievan soil.
I. N. Danilevskiy was certainly right to stress that a chronicle is ultimately a way of narrating a
typology between sacred texts and real events.108 This notion has had surprisingly little impact on
studies of the Primary Chronicle, and recent discussions about the Archangel Michael’s role have failed
to make a thorough typology between the narrative in the Primary Chronicle and that in the Sacred
Writings.109 A. V. Laushkin, in his criticism of Danilevskiy, stated that there is little similarity between
the Polovtsy of the Primary Chronicle and the Ishmaelites of the Bible.110 I argue that Laushkin is
missing the point: for our Kievan chronicler the biblical books were not the only sacred texts. Even
though high theology never embraced popular apocalypses like the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius,
it is clear that for our chronicler the Revelation was a sacred text. Not only does the narrative of the
Primary Chronicle use the imagery of the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius, but also in its pages the
apocalyptic expectations and millennial fears of contemporary Kievans are fully expressed. This is
Prince Svyatopolk-Michael died in the year 6621 (1113 AD), an event that was predicted by terrifying
celestial signs involving the sun. After the prince’s death, Kiev erupted into chaos and anarchy; violent
riots broke out, and Svyatopolk’s leading officials were attacked, as were the Jews of Kiev.111 In Soviet
historiography the riots were interpreted as a reaction by the lower class to the strained economic
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situation; when Vladimir Monomakh finally stepped in to calm the riotous masses, he was seen as a
strong ruler who protected the lower working class from the greedy feudal upper class.112 However, I
would like to point out that in a context in which signs predicting the end of the world were regularly
sought, the attack against the Jews has to be placed in a larger framework. One cannot overlook the fact
that around the time of the First Crusade the atmosphere vis-à-vis the Jewish populace was strained
everywhere in Europe, especially in Germany, where the Crusaders turned against the Jews before
their departure for the Holy Land in 1096.113 As Matthew Gabriele has recently shown, the Revelation of
Pseudo-Methodius was a major spiritual stimulus that fuelled the pogroms by these crusaders. Gabriele
points out that the attack on the Jews in towns of the Rhineland in May 1096 was inspired by the
militant and warlike images of the Revelation and that Count Emicho, who led the German crusaders,
presented himself as the Last Emperor who was going to liberate Jerusalem from the infidels.114
In the sermons and teachings of the Kievan clergy the Jews were often dealt with by emphasising
their false teachings.115 Medieval anti-Semitism arose from Christian views of Jews, who, in light of
sacred history, were the perpetrators of wrongdoing against Christ. The attitude evolved into more
deep-seated antagonism, with Jews labelled subhuman evil sorcerers, an image that gained more and
more ground from the eleventh century on. The increasingly popular view of Jews as unbelieving Christ-
killers and usurers made them more dependent than ever on the protection of secular authorities. In
return for a large share of profit, kings and princes were willing to protect the Jews.116 What took place
in Kiev in the year 1113 could reflect the fact that with Svyatopolk’s death the Jews lost their protector.
However, in the light of Primary Chronicle’s typology one could assume that our chronicler was not
isolated in his interest in the End Time. Therefore, I argue that the Chronicle most likely reflected the
general apocalyptic tensions felt throughout Europe during the time of the First Crusades. After all, the
faith of Jerusalem was important to our chronicler, and this faith continued to be important in the later
112 This was supposedly reflected in the law code Prostrannaya Russkaya Pravda. Grekov 1953, 496–498; Tikhomirov 1955. See also
Likhachev 1996, 544–545.
113 Langmuir 1990, 301–304.
114 Gabriele 2007, 61–82.
115 Already ustav of Yaroslav Vladimirovich had strictly forbidden any relations between Christians and Jews, and the same was
done in the Teaching of Feodosiy, who taught that Jews who lived in Kiev must be considered as enemies of God. Metropolitan Ioann
II of Kiev, in his canonical answer No 22, warned his flock against selling their sons and daughters to Jewish slave-traders, whom he
considered ‘lawless’ (bezzakonnik). Kanonicheskie otvety Kievskogo Mitropolita Ioanna II, 1–18.
116 Langmuir 1990, 301–303.
117 PVL 165,25; Ipat’evskaya letopis’ 6695 (1187), 441; 6698 (1190), 449.
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Why then was Prince Svyatopolk’s death such a frightening experience for the people of Kiev?
According to the Revelation, when the Last Emperor dies, the Antichrist would be revealed and the end
of the world was nigh. Pseudo-Methodius had specifically stated that the Antichrist was a descendant
of Dan,118 thereby implying that he would be born in the Jewish community. In that context it was little
Ultimately, Prince Svyatopolk remains a distant figure in the Primary Chronicle, for it is his cousin
Vladimir Monomakh who steals the show as the narrative’s hero: it was he who stepped in to slay the
pagans, with the narrative theme showing an interesting similarity to the last battles of the ‘Greek
king’ against the Ishmaelites. The joyous tone of the Primary Chronicle after the victories over the
Polovtsy resembles that of the Revelation, when the Ishmaelites had been defeated and a great period of
prosperity began. The Ishmaelites, who earlier had subjugated the Christians, were in turn subjugated
after the emperor’s victory. But even though Svyatopolk-Michael was a prince of Kiev, the hero of these
wars was clearly his cousin and the chief commander of the Rus’ troops, Vladimir Monomakh. The last
two princes in the Primary Chronicle, Svyatopolk-Michael and Vladimir Monomakh, make up a ruling
pair, in which the apocalyptic significance of the Last Emperor is reflected in the image of both.
The shift of power from Svyatopolk to Monomakh seems to be central to the problematic presentation
of the two Kievan princes; certainly it has been central to scholars trying to reconstruct the process of
creating the Primary Chronicle. The ‘classical’ theory of Alexey Shakhmatov rested on the hypothesis
that after the death of Svyatopolk, when Vladimir Monomakh had taken the throne of Kiev, the new ruler
commissioned a heavily edited version of the Chronicle, and its emphasis was changed to allow a valiant,
orthodox, pious and ideal ruler – Vladimir Monomakh – to step forth. Shakhmatov, in explaining why
no traces of the earlier chronicle, which supposedly was more favourable to Svyatopolk, have survived,
suggested that all copies of the earlier volume were destroyed.119 But it is of utmost importance to point
out that Shakhmatov’s theory is still mere hypothesis, with no textual basis.120
In this article I have argued that the image of the Last Emperor was essential to the compiler of the
Primary Chronicle. In interpreting the famous revelation, the chronicler saw the prophecy taking place
on Rus’ soil. I further argue that the juxtaposition of Svyatopolk and Vladimir Monomakh was not
an issue for our chronicler. Both rulers had St Michael as their patron saint. For Svyatopolk, Michael
was a namesake and a personal guardian angel, in whose honour the ruler built a lavishly decorated
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golden-domed church in Kiev. For Vladimir Monomakh, Michael was a patron of his family’s monastery
in Vydubich – a monastery in which the Igumen Silvester wrote his copy of the Primary Chronicle in
the year 1116. In the end both rulers imparted crucial features to the Last Emperor, Svyatopolk with
his name –
Michael – as I have demonstrated in this article. For Vladimir Monomakh it was his Greek
heritage which made him equally fit for the typology. When Prince Svyatopolk-Michael died and the
world did not come to an end, his cousin assumed the role of the Last Emperor by virtue of his origin,
for Vladimir Monomakh’s birth was specifically foretold in the Primary Chronicle: ‘Vsevolod had a son,
Volodimir, by the daughter of a Greek emperor’ [отъ цьсарицѣ Грькынѣ] [italics added].121
The Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius specifically underlined the Greek origin of the empire, deriving
its royal bloodline from the first world-ruler, Alexander the Great. His Greek bloodline came into the
Byzantine Empire through his mother, who was a daughter of an Ethiopian king, Cush, and who after
Alexander’s death was given as a wife to the Greek king Byzas, a founder of the city of Byzantium.122
This lineage was of great significance in the Revelation, which depended heavily on Psalm 68:31, where
in the Syriac Bible, Peshitta, it is stated that at the end of time Cush shall hasten to stretch out her
hands to God.123 In the Revelation this moment took place when the last Greek king, a descendant of
Cush, placed his crown on the Cross at Golgotha with his own hands. In the powerful imagery of the
Revelation the Last Emperor – who is actually identified as a Greek king throughout the Revelation –
hands over his kingdom to God, thereby fulfilling the prophecy of David.
Both the Syriac original of the Revelation of Pseudo-Methodius and its Greek translations call the
Last Emperor a ‘Greek king’. The kingdom of Rome is mentioned a few times, but always with the
clarification that it was a kingdom of the Greeks.124 In the Slavonic Revelation, both in the tenth-
century and the fourteenth-century translations, the title for a Greek king was Greek emperor, a царь.125
The Third Interpolated Slavonic Redaction of Pseudo-Methodius’s Revelation called the emperor ‘Tsar
Michael’, but no longer emphasised his Greek heritage.126 In this dual representation of the Last Emperor
in the Primary Chronicle, Svyatopolk is connected with the figure through his name, and Vladimir
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Monomakh, through his Greek origins. Both Svyatopolk and Vladimir Monomakh thus had attributes
I suggest that what we see in the Primary Chronicle’s relatively pale role of the Last Emperor
accommodation and resignation due to the failure of the expected end to arrive. Those in Kiev who
felt the closeness of the End Time must have been on their guard when Svyatopolk-Michael died. In
fact, as the Chronicle itself testifies, the long delay in placing a new ruler on the Kievan throne after
Svyatopolk’s death makes one question whether there were not many who believed that the normal
everyday routines were over and Christ’s Second Coming was near. But the world did not come to
an end, and eventually a new ruler ascended the Kievan throne. What happened to the image of the
Last Emperor, an image that was so splendidly constructed in the chronicle to fit Rus’ history and the
idea of the numbered temporary years to fit the typology of the sacred writings? The image survived,
as it is in the nature of strong mental images to survive, given that images in general are built on
easily recognizable and stereotypical constraints of human minds that fight everyday facts. Two great
medievalists, Aron Gurevich and Jacques Le Goff, wrote about the power of mental images. Gurevich
spoke about collective memory, which in this apocalyptic concept I have referred to as a mental image,
and about the importance of equating the bearers of the same name.127 Le Goff for his part spoke about
the concept of translation and the importance of analogy, remarking that ‘the only things and people
who really existed were those which recalled something or someone who had already existed.’128 This
is what the power of Svaytopolk-Michael’s image rested on. The image was so splendidly constructed
that, when the Greekness of Vladimir Monomakh offered a way to secure and nurture the typology of
the Last Emperor, the entire worldview of the chronicle was saved.
Conclusion
The concept of the Rus’ as the Chosen People, singled out by Providence, turned the battle against the
pagan Polovtsy into a Christian mission. The fact that a Rus’ Christian mission was directed against
pagans, not Muslims, has led many scholars to confuse the role of the Polovtsy in the Rus’ wars. Mark
Batunsky, for example, argued that Russia’s intellectual elite received a fully developed theory of Islam
from Byzantium, distorting the historical reality in subjugating the Polovtsy to represent the Byzantine
war against Islam. Batunsky further claimed that the manner in which the Rus’ writers treated the
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confrontation with the ‘Hagarians’ was more pragmatic than either the Latin West or the Byzantine
East. 129
I find this argument ill-grounded, for it seems obvious that the Kievan chronicler was a full-
fledged heir to a long Christian tradition. The fact that the Rus’ were fighting the Polovtsy and that the
Crusaders in the Holy Land were facing the Muslim Arabs was insignificant: in both cases, Christians
faced non-Christians, and most important, they faced people who fit the eschatological image of the
Ishmaelites.
Recently, Tsvetelin Stepanov raised the question of the impact of Pseudo-Methodius’s apocalypse on
the Primary Chronicle, claiming that the Chronicle does not contain any allusions to the image of the
Last Emperor, which in his mind would have been ideologically impossible in Kievan Rus’, where there
was no claim of having imperial rule under a tsar.130 I believe Simon Franklin was absolutely right when
he argued that, for Kievan Rus’, a Byzantine emperor was a figure distant from the Byzantine sources
– a figure who had a central place in Byzantine universalism, but no place in Rus’.131 I argue that the
Primary Chronicle presents a view in which a Byzantine emperor was completely replaced by a Rus’ian
Most important, Stepanov failed to make convincing arguments for the role of the Polovtsy as the
archenemy of Rus’, confusing and entangling them with the role of Islam in the image of the Ishmaelites.132
In the Primary Chronicle the sons of Ishmael were pagans, a fact that was very important for its
narrative choice. The original apocalypse of Pseudo-Methodius never claimed any religious beliefs for
the Ishmaelites, only maintaining that they were not Christians, which became apparent as they mocked
the Christians while humiliating them.133 This detail also figured in the Primary Chronicle, in a 1096
description of the Polovtsy attack on the Caves Monastery, when the Polovtsy laughed at the terrified
monks and asked: ‘Where is their God?’134 The paganism of the Polovtsy was crucial when it came to
the Chronicle’s idea of God’s punishment, for the Chronicle specifically stated that God allowed pagans
to be the instrument of his anger. On the other hand, the paganism of the Polovtsy was fundamentally
marked by eschatological typology, which has too often been sidelined by historians.135
In closing, I am calling for an understanding of the ideological imagery of the Primary Chronicle,
a text born in a culture in which the novelty and importance of written documents shaped completely
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new ways of thinking as well as the identity of men. The rapprochement between the oral and written
traditions began to play a decisive role in the organisation of experience and established the relation of
human actions to the formal, written models by which random historical events could be ordered. The
writing down of events gave rise to unprecedented parallels between literature and life and advanced
Kiev as a product of categorisation, made in the spirit of universal chronicles, but in a very original and
role in shaping the content of the Primary Chronicle. By making the narrative choice to cast the Polovtsy
in the image of the Ishmaelites, our chronicler also had to find other equivalents to fit his eschatological
imagery. Prince Svyatopolk of Kiev was thereby positioned to fit the image of the Last Emperor. In
particular, the participation of the Archangel Michael turned the campaigns of Prince Svyatopolk
and his cousin Vladimir into the final battles of the world. The archangel with a key role in popular
apocalypses was the heavenly protector of Prince Svyatopolk of Kiev, and his name became central to
the formation of Svyatopolk’s identity and political career.137 Together with the fact that the world did
not end when Prince Svyatopolk died in 1113, these events caused the Rus’ to claim yet another ‘last’
emperor, as Vladimir Monomakh with his claim to Greek lineage fit the role of the Last Emperor very
well.
With this imagery the Primary Chronicle forcefully demonstrated how the earlier Byzantine images
associated with Rus’ as the nation of Gog and Magog were incorrect and suggested an alternative
interpretation of the world order. In that alternative the Primary Chronicle delivered a coherent
narrative with a universal message that showed how the Polovtsy were the true instruments of God’s
wrath. In that plan of salvation, the Rus’ rulers had a specific mission, carried out under the leadership
of its last ruler and his heavenly protector, the Archangel Michael.
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