away any suspicions which might be entertained.  His health was feeble, and suffered much from the exposures of the journey.  He was detained in the Mogol court in captivity, though treated with much consideration, for a year.  He then returned home, so crushed in health and spirits, that he died on the 14th of November, 1263.  The prince was buried at Vladimir, and was borne to the grave surrounded by the tears and lamentations of his subjects.  He seems to have died the death of the righteous, breathing most fervent prayers of penitence and of love.  In the distressing situation in which his country was placed, he could do nothing but seek to alleviate its woe; and to this object he devoted all the energies of his life.  The name of Alexander Nevsky is still pronounced in Russia with love and admiration.  His remains, after reposing in the church of Notre Dame, at Vladimir, until the eighteenth century, were transported, by Peter the Great, to the banks of the Neva, to give renown to the capital which that illustrious monarch was rearing there.

Yaroslaf, of Tiver, succeeded almost immediately his father in the nominal sway of Russia.  The new sovereign promised fealty to the Tartars, and feared no rival while sustained by their swords.  His oppression becoming intolerable, the tocsin was sounded in the streets of Novgorod, and the whole populace rose in insurrection.  The movement was successful.  The favorites and advisers of Yaroslaf were put to death, and the prince himself was exiled.  There is something quite refreshing in the energetic spirit with which the populace transmitted their sentence of repudiation to the discomfited prince, blockaded in his palace.  The citizens met in a vast gathering in the church of St. Nicholas, and sent to him the following act of accusation: 

“Why have you seized the mansion of one of our nobles?  Why have you robbed others of their money?  Why have you driven from Novgorod strangers who were living peaceably in the midst of us?  Why do your game-keepers exclude us from the chase, and drive us from our own fields?  It is time to put an end to such violence.  Leave us.  Go where you please, but leave us, for we shall choose another prince.”

Yaroslaf, terrified and humiliated, sent his son to the public assembly with the assurance that he was ready to conform to all their wishes, if they would return to their allegiance.

“It is too late,” was the reply.  “Leave us immediately, or we shall be exposed to the inconvenience of driving you away.”

Yaroslaf immediately left the city and sought safety in exile.  The Novgorodians then offered the soiled and battered crown to Dmitry, a nephew of the deposed prince.  But Dmitry, fearing the vengeance of the Tartars, replied, “I am not willing to ascend a throne from which you have expelled my uncle.”

Yaroslaf immediately sent an embassador to the encampment of the Tartars, where they were, ever eagerly waiting for any enterprise which promised carnage and plunder.  The embassador, imploring their aid, said,