but it was wise and humane.  Alexander disdained to play the hero at the expense of his people, like his brother Andrew of Suzdal, who was immediately obliged to fly, abandoning his country to the vengeance of the Tartars.  The Prince of Novgorod was the only prince in Russia who had kept his independence, but he knew Batu’s hands could extend as far as the Ilmen.  “God has subjected many peoples to me,” wrote the barbarian to him:  “will you alone refuse to recognize my power?  If you wish to keep your land, come to me; you will see the splendor and the glory of my sway.”  Then Alexander went to Sarai with his brother Andrew, who disputed the grand principality of Vladimir with his uncle Sviatoslaf.  Batu declared that fame had not exaggerated the merit of Alexander, that he far excelled the common run of Russian princes.  He enjoined the two brothers to show themselves, like their father Yaroslaff, at the Great Horde; they returned from it in 1257.  Kuiuk had confirmed the one in the possession of Vladimir, and the other in that of Novgorod, adding to it all South Russia and Kiev.

The year 1260 put the patience of Alexander and his politic obedience to the Tartars to the proof.  Ulavtchi, to whom the khan Berkai had confided the affairs of Russia, demanded that Novgorod should submit to the census and pay tribute.  It was the hero of the Neva that was charged with the humiliating and dangerous mission of persuading Novgorod.  When the possadnik uttered in the vetche the doctrine that it was necessary to submit to the strongest, the people raised a terrible cry and murdered the possadnik.  Vassili himself, the son of Alexander, declared against a father “who brought servitude to freemen,” and retired to the Pskovians.  It needed a soul of iron temper to resist the universal disapprobation, and counsel the Novgorodians to the commission of the cowardly though necessary act.  Alexander arrested his son, and punished the boyars who had led him into the revolt with death or mutilation.  The vetche had decided to refuse the tribute, and send back the Mongol ambassadors with presents.

However, on the rumor of the approach of the Tartars, they repented, and Alexander could announce to the enemy that Novgorod submitted to the census.  But when they saw the officers of the Khan at work, the population revolted again, and the Prince was obliged to keep guard on the officers night and day.  In vain the boyars advised the citizens to give in:  assembled around St. Sophia, the people declared they would die for liberty and honor.  Alexander then threatened to quit the city with his men and abandon it to the vengeance of the Khan.  This menace conquered the pride of the Novgorodians.  The Mongols and their agents might go, register in hand, from house to house in the humiliated and silent city to make the list of the inhabitants.  “The boyars,” says Karamsin, “might yet be vain of their rank and their riches, but the simple citizens had lost with their national honor their most precious possession,” 1260.