How The Friars Fared Among The Tartars
The sea of Mongol invasion which, pouring in the thirteenth century from
the vast steppes of Asia, overflowed all Eastern Europe, and was checked
in its course only by the assembled forces of the German nations, filled
the world of the West with inexpressible terror. For a time, after
whelming beneath its flood Russia, Poland, and Hungary, it was rolled
back, but the terror remained. At any moment these savage horsemen might
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return in irresistible strength and spread the area of desolation to the
western seas. The power of arms seemed too feeble to stay them; the
power of persuasion, however, might not be in vain, and the pope, as the
spiritual head of Europe, felt called upon to make an effort for the
rescue of the Christian world.
Tartar hordes were then advancing through Persia towards the Holy Land,
and to these, in the forlorn hope of checking their course, he sent as
ambassadors a body of Franciscan friars composed of Father Ascelin and
three companions. It was in the year 1246 that these papal envoys set
out, armed with full powers from the head of the Church, but sadly
deficient in the worldly wisdom necessary to deal with such truculent
infidels as those whom they had been sent to meet.
Ascelin and his comrades journeyed far through Asia in search of a
Tartar host, and at length found one on the northern frontier of Persia.
Into the camp of the barbarians the worthy Franciscan boldly advanced,
announcing himself as an ambassador from the pope. To his surprise, this
announcement was received with contempt by the Tartars, who knew little
and cared less for the object of his deep veneration. In return he
showed his feeling towards the infidels in a way that soon brought his
mission into a perilous state.
He was refused an audience with the Mongol general unless he would
perform the ko-tou, or three genuflections, an act which he and his
followers refused as an idolatrous ceremony which would scandalize all
Christendom. Finally, as nothing less would be accepted, they, in their
wise heads, thought they might consent to perform the ko-tou, provided
the general and all his army would become Christians. This folly capped
the climax. The Tartars, whom they had already irritated, broke into a
violent rage, loaded the friars with fierce invectives, and denounced
them and their pope as Christian dogs.
A council was called to decide what to do with these insulting
strangers. Some suggested that the friars should be flayed alive, and
their skins, stuffed with hay, sent to the pope. Others wished to keep
them till the next battle with the Christians, and then place them in
front of the army as victims to the god of war. A third proposition was
to whip them through the camp and then put them to death. But Baithnoy,
the general, had no fancy for delay, and issued orders that the whole
party should at once be executed.
In this frightful predicament, into which Ascelin and his party had
brought themselves, a woman's pity came to the rescue. Baithnoy's
principal wife endeavored to move him to compassion; but, finding him
obdurate, she next appealed to his interest. To violate in this way the
law of nations would cover him with disgrace, she said, and stay the
coming of many who otherwise would seek his camp with homage and
presents. She reminded him of the anger of the Great Khan when, on a
former occasion, he had caused the heart of an ambassador to be plucked
out and had ridden around the camp with it fastened to his horse's tail.
By these arguments, reinforced with entreaties, she induced him to spare
the lives of the friars.
They were advised to visit the court of the Great Khan, but Ascelin had
seen as much as he relished of Tartar courts, and refused to go a step
farther except by force. He was then desired, as he had been so curious
to see a Tartar army, to wait until their expected reinforcements
arrived. He protested that he had seen enough Tartars already to last
him the rest of his life; but, despite his protest, he was detained for
several months, during which the Tartars amused themselves by annoying
and vexing their visitors. At length, after having been half starved,
frequently threatened with death, and insulted in a hundred ways, they
were set free, bearing letters to the pope ordering him to come in
person and do homage to Genghis Khan, the Son of God.
At the same time that Ascelin set out for the south, another party,
headed by John Carpini, set out for the north, to visit the Tartars then
in Russia. Here they were startled by the first act demanded of them,
they being compelled to pass between two large fires as a purification
from the suspicion of evil. On coming into the presence of Bathy, the
general, they, more terrified perhaps than Ascelin, did not hesitate to
fall upon their knees. To heighten their terrors, two of them were sent
to the court of the Great Khan, in the heart of Tartary, the other two
being detained on some pretext. The journey was a frightful one. With no
food but millet, no drink but melted snow, pushing on at a furious
speed, changing horses several times a day, passing over tracts strewn
with human bones, and the weather through part of their journey being
bitterly cold, they at length reached the court of the Mongols on July
22, 1246.
They arrived at an interesting period. The election of Kujak, a new
khan, was about to take place, and, in addition to great Tartar lords
from all quarters of the Mongol empire, ambassadors from Russia, Persia,
Bagdad, India, and China were at hand with presents and congratulations.
The assembled nobles, four thousand in all, dazzled Carpini with their
pomp and magnificence. The coronation was attended with peculiar
ceremonies, and a few days afterwards audience was given to the
ambassadors, that they might deliver their presents. Here the friars
were amazed at the abundance and value of the gifts, which consisted of
satin cloths, robes of purple, silk girdles wrought with gold, and
costly skins. Most surprising of all was a "sun canopy" (umbrella) full
of precious stones, a long row of camels covered with Baldakin cloth,
and a "wonderful brave tent, all of red purple, presented by the
Kythayans" (Chinese), while near by stood five hundred carts "all full
of silver, and of gold, and of silk garments."
The friars were now placed in an embarrassing position by being asked
what presents they had to give. They had so little that they thought it
best to declare "that they were not of ability so to do." This failure
was well received, and throughout their visit they were treated with
great respect, the khan cajoling them with hints that he proposed
publicly to profess Christianity.
These flattering hopes came to a sudden end when the great Mongol ruler
ordered the erection of a flag of defiance against the Roman empire, the
Christian Church, and all the Christian kingdoms of the West, unless
they would do homage to him; and with this abrupt termination to their
embassy they were dismissed. After "travailing all winter long,"
sleeping on snow without shelter, and suffering other hardships, they
reached Europe in June, 1247, where they were "rejoiced over as men that
had been risen from death to life."
Carpini was the first European to approach the borders of China, or
Cathay, as it was then called, and the story he told about that
mysterious empire of the East, gathered from the Tartars, was of much
interest, and, so far as it went, of considerable accuracy. He was also
the first to visit the court of those terrible warriors who had filled
the world with dismay, and to bring to Europe an account of their
barbaric manners and customs.
Shortly after (in 1253) a friar named Rubruquis, with two companions,
was sent to Tartary by Louis IX. of France to search for Prester John,
an imaginary Christian potentate supposed to reign in the centre of
Asia, to visit Sartach, a Tartar chief also reported a Christian, and to
teach the doctrines of Christianity to all the Tartars he should find.
Rubruquis did his work well, and, while failing to find Prester John or
to convert any of the Tartars, he penetrated to the very centre of the
Mongol empire, visited Karakorum, the capital of the Great Khans, and
brought back much valuable information, giving a clear, accurate, and
intelligent account of the lands he had seen and the people he had met,
with such news of distant China as he could obtain without actually
crossing the Great Wall.
After his visit information concerning these remote regions ceased until
the publication of the remarkably interesting book of Marco Polo, the
first to write of China from an actual visit to its court. The story of
his visit must be left for a later tale.