Avid readers in Ukraine seem to have a pretty good idea about Yeremia (Yarema) Vyshnevetsky and his role in Ukrainian history from Ivan Nechui-Levytsky’s novel Prince Yeremiya Vyshnevetsky and from Samokysh’s canvas Maksym Kryvonis’ Duel with Yarema Vyshnevetsky. But few have wondered (historians included) what made this man turn from one of Ukraine’s best educated magnates into a bloodthirsty monster.
Mykhailo Hrushevsky writes that, while Polish King Wladyslaw IV sought to rally the szlachta (gentry) to implement his far-reaching military projects focused mainly on dynastic claims, Prince Yeremiya was content with his peaceful feudal chores, moving his work force to estates beyond the Dnipro River, deserted centuries back by Slavs who were driven out by nomads. According to different calculations from 52 to 56 populated settlements of various size appeared as a result.
In 1638, Prince Yeremiya, inheriting family estates in Volyn and Podillia, decided to move his capital to Lubny in Dnipro Ukraine. Given the condition of the Polish Kingdom at the period, this was a daring move. At the time, writes Kyrylo Bochkariov, a noted historian of the early twentieth century, “the terrible situation of the Little Russian people on the right bank of the Dnipro, groaning under the yoke of the Polish aristocracy and Catholic clergy, provoked uprisings.” Unrest spread, reaching the Left Bank. In 1637, a gang of young Ukrainians led by Kyzym the Younger raided Lubny, killing burghers and Catholic priests. Yeremiya’s moving to Lubny must have signified his serious intentions. He wanted to settle down. Shortly after Kyzym’s raid Vyshnevetsky had Lubny rebuilt.
With his annual revenues reaching 200,000 zloty the prince could afford an army of 6,000 mercenaries, drilled according to the best European standards. He handled his economic policy, domestic as well as foreign (stably exporting grain to Western Europe), single-handedly and very effectively. In his capital Yeremiya received foreign ambassadors. He issued decrees. Quite a number have reached our day, written in what is described as Ruthenian, giving historians reason to claim that the language was official in this prince’s lands. And then there is his coat of arms, a gold “one-and-a-half” cross against a scarlet background. The only attribute of independent statehood lacking in this Ukrainian state of Vyshnevetsky’s was its own coins. As for his obligations as a subject of the Polish crown, they were reduced to an archaic formality.
A closer look at Vyshnevetsky’s Ukrainian principality disperses some of the myths surrounding his name after his death. To begin with, about 50% of his “6,000 mercenaries” were actually Cossacks, all of them Eastern Orthodox, to be sure. The other half consisted of Orthodox and Catholic nobles. Oleksandr Lazarevsky, a well-known Ukrainian historian, proves that except for St. Michael’s Cathedral and St. Bernard’s Monastery in Lubny, there were no Catholic churches in Vyshnevetsky’s Ukrainian principality. Moreover, in 1647 he filed a plaint with the Court of the Sejm, against the Jesuits who had appropriated his village of Prokhorivka. At the same time, he often donated money to Eastern Orthodox Eastern monasteries, especially Mharsky.
And whom would he have bothered in all this? Most likely, King Wladyslaw’s in the first place. While the Polish sovereign might have put up with the other kinglets’ ambitions, he was surely loath to having another feudal, supposedly under him but with matching strength, drive, and wealth. The rest of the Polish aristocracy did not like Prince Yeremiya, either. The way he ran his Ukrainian estates was strikingly different from that of the szlachta. Too many Right Bank peasants would be strongly tempted to switch landlords. And, of course, the Roman Catholic Church was very displeased as one of its cum laude products was now operating with a marked lack of anti-schismatic zeal.
In a word, Prince Yeremiya Vyshnevetsky found himself in a situation best described as “one against all.” One should also consider the possibility of the Polish King having some “secret talks” with the Cossacks prior to the 1648 events, and that Mykhailo Hrushevsky could not rule it out in principle. In this context, Wladyslaw’s words allegedly addressed to Bohdan Khmelnytsky —“Beat the whale out of those kinglets!” — does not seem too far-fetched.
Vyshnevetsky’s Ukrainian domain was first badly shaken by Khmelnytsky’s Cossack host routing Crown Hetman Potocki’s elite troops. Aware that a field encounter was the only possibility under the circumstances, Yeremiya suddenly disbanded his Cossack units, possibly loath to see loyal men drawn into fratricidal bloodshed. The Prince headed for Zhytomyr, in an attempt to negotiate some coordinated effort with local magnates. En route, he received the bad news about his capital. Kyrylo Bochkariov has it that 15,000 rogue Cossacks led by Otaman (warlord) Lysenko-Vovhura raided Lubny, killing almost everyone, regardless of sex, age, or creed.
It was in 1648 that the “Ruthenian” Prince Yeremiya Vyshnevetsky turned into an “inveterate enemy of the Ukrainian people,” precisely when King Wladyslaw, using armed paupers posing as Cossacks, ruined within months his Ukrainian principality founded and cherished for some fifteen years. After that the Prince had no alternative but to become a stranger in his own land, avenging his wrong with fire and sword. Mourning his ruined estates, he was so overwhelmed by ven-geance that he chased and attacked Maksym Kryvonis and his poor Cossacks (by that time the chieftain no longer obeyed Khmelnytsky’s orders). It was then that Yeremiya Vyshnevetsky resorted to unrestrained violence and torture, sparing none every time he got the better of yet another rebellious Cossack force. In retaliation for the bloodbath Kryvonis made of the town of Nemyriv (June 10, 1648), he massacred everyone in some way or other related to Kryvonis. The latter’s brothers were executed and Lysenko-Vovhura, who had organized the Lubny massacre, was impaled. Yeremiya was blind with hatred and revenge. He could no longer tell friend from foe. He was becoming a pathological sadist. It was then that the Polish nobles who had calmly watched Vyshnevetsky’s state be torn to pieces suddenly proclaimed him their savior and hero.
After the Battle of Berestechko, when the Cossacks suffered a humiliating defeat, the prince thought he had avenged his lost dream, even if partially. God knows, he might have restored his estates, bringing them back into shape, except that on August 20, shortly after Berestechko, Prince Yeremiya Mykhailovych Korybut Vyshnevetsky died at age 39, under circumstances never ascertained. Officially, the cause of death was dysentery, but the man passed away in a week, too quickly for that disease.
It was his tragedy, rather than guilt, that until his dying day Prince Yeremiya Vyshnevetsky would do his utmost to avenge that small ruthlessly devastated world of his.
One can try to build something on a world in ruins. But only ruins will result.






