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In this brief, but bloody war, the city of Staradoub, in Russia, was besieged by an army of Poles and Tartars. The assault was urged with the most desperate energy and fearlessness. The defense was conducted with equal ferocity. Thousands fell on both sides in every mangled form of death. At last the besiegers undermined the walls, and placing beneath hundreds of barrels of gunpowder, as with the burst of a volcano, uphove the massive bastions to the clouds. They fell in a storm of ruin upon the city, setting it on fire in many places. Through the flames and over the smouldering ruins, Poles and Tartars, blackened with smoke and smeared with blood, rushed into the city, and in a few hours thirteen thousand of the inhabitants were weltering in their gore. None were left alive. And this is but a specimen of the wars which raged for ages. The world now has but the faintest conception of the seas of blood and woe through which humanity has waded to attain even its present feeble recognition of fraternity.

In this, as in every war with Poland, Russia was gaining, ever wresting from her rival the provinces of Lithuania, and attaching them to the gigantic empire. In the year 1534, Hélène commenced the enterprise of surrounding the whole of Moscow with a ditch, and a wall capable of resisting the batterings of artillery. An Italian engineer, named Petrok Maloi, superintended these works. The foundation of the walls was laid with imposing religious ceremonies. The wall was crowned with four towers at the opening of the four gates. Hélène was so conscious of the importance of augmenting the population of Russia, that she offered land and freedom from taxes for a term of years to all who would migrate into her territory from Poland. Perhaps also she had a double object, wishing to weaken a rival power. Much counterfeit coin was found to be in circulation. The regent issued an edict, that any one found guilty of depreciating the current standard of coin, should be punished with death, and this death was to be barbarously inflicted by first cutting off the hands of the culprit, and then pouring melted lead through a tunnel down his throat.

On the 3d of April, 1538, Hélène, in the prime of life, and with all her sins in full vigor and unrepented, retired to her bed at night, suddenly and seriously sick. Some one had succeeded in administering to her a dose of poison. She shrieked for a few hours in mortal agony, and soon after the hour of twelve was tolled, her spirit ascended to meet God in judgment. Being dead, she had no favors to confer and no terrors to execute; and her festering remains were the same day hurried ignominiously to the grave. Her paramour, Telennef, alone wept over her death. Russia rejoiced, and yet with trembling. Whose strong arm would now seize the helm of the tempest-torn ship of State, no one could tell.

The young prince, Ivan IV., was but seven years of age at the death of his mother Hélène. For several days there was ominous silence in Moscow, the stillness which precedes the storm. The death of the regent had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that none were prepared for it. A week passed away, during which time parties were forming and conspiracies ripening, while Telennef was desperately endeavoring to retain that power which he had so despotically wielded in conjunction with his royal mistress. The prince Vassili Schouisky, who had occupied the first place in the councils of Vassili, opened the drama. Having secured the coöperation of a large number of nobles, he declared himself the head of the government, arrested all the favorites of Hélène, and threw Telennef, bound with chains, into a dungeon. There he was left to die of starvation—barbarity, which, though in accordance with that brutal age, even all the similar excesses of Telennef could not justify. The beautiful sister of Telennef, Agrippene by name, was torn from the saloons her loveliness had embellished, and was imprisoned for life in a convent. The victims of the cruelty of Hélène, who were still languishing in prison, were set at liberty.

Schouisky was a widower, and in the fiftieth year of his age. He wished to strengthen his power by engaging the coöperation of the still formidable energies of the horde at Kezan, and accordingly married, quite hurriedly, the daughter of the czar of the horde. But the regal diadem proved to him but a crown of thorns. Conspiracy succeeded conspiracy, and Schouisky felt compelled to enlist all the terrors of the dungeon, the scaffold and the block to maintain his place. Six months only passed away, ere he too was writhing upon the royal couch in the agonies of death, whether paralyzed by poison or smitten by the hand of God, the day of judgment alone can reveal.

Ivan Schouisky, the brother of the deceased usurper, now stepped into the dangerous post which death had so suddenly rendered vacant. He was a weak man, assuming the most pompous airs, quite unable to discriminate between imposing grandeur and ridiculous parade. He soon became both despised and detested. This state of things encouraged the two hordes of Kezan and Tauride to unite, and with an army of a hundred thousand men they penetrated Russia almost unopposed, burning and plundering in all directions.

Under these circumstances the metropolitan bishop, Joseph, a man of sincere piety and of very elevated character, and who enjoyed in the highest degree the confidence both of the aristocracy and of the people, presented himself before the council, urged the incapacity of Ivan Schouisky to govern, and proposed that Ivan Belsky, a nobleman of great energy and moral worth, should be chosen regent. The proposal was carried by acclamation. So unanimous was the vote, so cordial was the adoption of the republican principle of election, that Ivan Schouisky was powerless and was merely dismissed.

The new regent, sustained by the clergy and the aristocracy, governed the State with wisdom and moderation. All kinds of persecution ceased, and vigorous measures were adopted for the promotion of the public welfare. Old abuses were repressed; vicious governors deposed, and the rising flames of civil strife were quenched. Even the hitherto unheard-of novelty of trial by jury was introduced. Jurors were chosen from among the most intelligent citizens. Though there was some bitter opposition among the corrupt nobles to these salutary reforms, the clergy, as a body, sustained them, and so did also even a majority of the lords. It was Christianity and the church which introduced these humanizing measures.

Among the innumerable tragedies of those days, let one be mentioned illustrative of the terrific wrongs to which all are exposed under a despotic government. There was a young prince, Dmitri, a child, grandson of Vassili the blind, whose claims to the throne were feared. He was thrown into prison and there forgotten . For forty-nine years he had now remained in a damp and dismal dungeon. He had committed no crime. He was accused of no crime. It was only feared that restive nobles might use him as an instrument for the furtherance of their plans. All the years of youth and of manhood had passed in darkness and misery. No beam of the sun ever penetrated his tomb. All unheeded the tides of life surged in the world above him, while his mind with his body was wasting away in the long agony.

 
"O who can tell what days, what nights he spent,
Of tideless, waveless, sailless, shoreless woe."
 

Mercy now entered his cell, but it was too late even for that angel visitant to bring a gleam of joy. His friends were all dead. His name was forgotten on earth. He knew nothing of the world or of its ways. His mind was enfeebled, and even the slender stock of knowledge which he had possessed as a child, had vanished away. They broke off his chains and removed him from his dungeon to a comfortable chamber. The poor old man, dazzled by the light and bewildered by the change, lingered joylessly and without a smile for a few weeks and died. Immortality alone offers a solution for these mysteries. "After death cometh the judgment."

The Christian bishop, Joseph, and Ivan Belsky, the regent, in cordial coöperation, endeavored in all things to promote prosperity and happiness. Again there was a coalition of the Tartars for the invasion of Russia. The three hordes, in Kezan, in the Tauride and at the mouth of the Volga, united, and in an army one hundred thousand strong, with numerous cavalry and powerful artillery, commenced their march. The Russian troops were hastily collected upon the banks of the Oka, there to take their stand and dispute the passage of the stream. By order of the clergy, prayers were offered incessantly in the churches by day and by night, that God would avert this terrible invasion. The young prince, Ivan IV., was now ten years of age. The citizens of Moscow were moved to tears and to the deepest enthusiasm on hearing their young prince, in the church of the Assumption, offer aloud and fervently the prayer,

"Oh heavenly Father! thou who didst protect our ancestors against the cruel Tamerlane, take us also under thy holy protection—us in childhood and orphanage. Our mind and our body are still feeble, and yet the nation looks to us for deliverance."

Accompanied by the metropolitan Joseph, he entered the council and said,

"The enemy is approaching. Decide for me whether it be best that I should remain here or go to meet the foe."

With one voice they exclaimed, "Prince, remain at Moscow."

They then took a solemn oath to die, if necessary, for their prince. The citizens came forward in crowds and volunteered for the defense of the walls. The faubourgs were surrounded with pallisades, and batteries of artillery were placed to sweep, in all directions, the approaches to the city. The enthusiasm was so astonishing that the Russian annalists ascribe it to a supernatural cause. On the 30th of July, 1541, the Tartar army appeared upon the southern banks of the Oka, crowning all the heights which bordered the stream. Immediately they made an attempt to force the passage. But the Russians, thoroughly prepared for the assault, repelled them with prodigious slaughter. Night put an end to the contest. The Russians were elated with their success, and waited eagerly for the morning to renew the strife. They even hoped to be able to cross the river and to sweep the camp of their foes. The fires of their bivouacs blazed all the night, reinforcements were continually arriving, and their songs of joy floated across the water, and fell heavily upon the hearts of the dismayed Tartars.

At midnight the khan, and the whole host, conscious of their peril, commenced a precipitate retreat, in their haste abandoning many guns and much of their baggage. The Russians pursued the foe, but were not able to overtake them, so rapidly did they retrace their steps.

The news of the expulsion of the enemy spread rapidly through Russia. The conduct of the grand prince everywhere excited the most lively enthusiasm. He entered the church, and in an affecting prayer returned thanks to God for the deliverance. The people, with unanimity, exclaimed,

"Grand prince, your angelic prayers and your happy star have caused us to triumph."

Awful, however, were the woes which fell upon those people who were on the line of march of the barbaric Tartars.

Ivan Belsky, the regent, had now attained the highest degree of good fortune, and in his own conscience, and in the general approbation of the people, he found ample recompense for his deeds of humanity, and his patriotic exertions. But envy, that poison of society, raised up against him enemies. Ivan Schouisky, who had been deposed by vote of the council, organized a conspiracy among the disaffected nobles, and on the night of the 3d of January, 1542, three hundred cavaliers surrounded the residences of the regent and of the metropolitan bishop, seized them and hurried them to prison, and in the prison finished their work by the assassination of Ivan Belsky.

Ivan Schouisky, sustained by the sabers of his partisans, reassumed the government. A new metropolitan bishop, Macaire was appointed to take the place of Joseph, who was deposed and imprisoned. The clergy, overawed, were silent. The reign of silence was again commenced, and all the posts of honor and influence were placed in the hands of the partisans of Schouisky. The government, such as it was, was now in the hands of a triumvirate consisting of Ivan, André and Feodor. Not a syllable of opposition would these men endure, and the dungeon and the assassin's poignard silenced all murmurs. The young prince, Ivan IV., was now thirteen years of age. He was endowed by nature with a mind of extraordinary sagacity and force, but his education had been entirely neglected, and the scenes of perfidy and violence he was continually witnessing were developing, a character which menaced Russia with many woes.

The infamous Schiouskies sought to secure the friendship of the young prince by ministering, in every possible way, to his pleasures. They led him to the chase, encouraged whatever disposition he chanced to manifest, and endeavored to train him in a state of feebleness and ignorance which might promote their ambitious plans. The Kremlin became the scene of constant intrigues. Cabal succeeded cabal. The position of the triumvirate became, month after month, more perilous. The young prince gave decisive indications of discontent. It began to be whispered into his ears that it was time for him to assume the reins of government, and he was assured that all Russia was waiting, eager to obey his orders. The metropolitan bishop, either from a sense of justice or of policy, also espoused the cause of the youthful sovereign. It was evident that another party was rising into power.

On the 29th of December, 1534, Ivan IV. went with a large party of his lords to the chase. Instructed beforehand in the measures he was to adopt, he, quite unexpectedly to the triumvirate, summoned all his lords around him, and, assuming an imperious and threatening tone, declared that the triumvirate had abused his extreme youth, had trampled upon justice, and, as culprits, deserved to die. In his great clemency, however, he decided to spare the lives of two, executing only one as an example to the nation. The oldest of the three, André Schouisky, was immediately seized and handed over to the conductors of the hounds. They set the dogs upon him, and he was speedily torn to pieces in the presence of the company, and his mangled remains were scattered over the plain.

The partisans of Schouisky, terrified by this deed, were afraid to utter a murmur. The nobles generally were alarmed, for it was evident that though they had escaped the violence of the triumvirate, they had fallen into hands equally to be dreaded. Confiscations and other acts of rigor rapidly succeeded, and the young prince, still too youthful to govern by the decision of his own mind, was quite under the control of the Glinskys, through whose council he had shaken off the triumvirate of the Schouiskies. Ivan IV. now made the tour of his kingdom, but with no other object than the promotion of his personal gratification. Most of his time was devoted to the excitements of the chase in the savage forests which spread over a large portion of his realms. He was always surrounded by a brilliant staff of nobles, and the sufferings of the people were all concealed from his view. The enormous expenses of his court were exacted from the people he visited, and his steps were followed by lamentations.

In the year 1546, Ivan attained the eighteenth year of his age, and made great preparations for his coronation. The imposing rites were to be performed at Moscow. On the 16th of January, the grand prince entered one of the saloons of his palaces while the nobles, the princes, the officers of the court, all richly dressed, were assembled in the ante-chamber. The confessor of the grand prince, having received from Ivan IV. a crucifix, placed it upon a plate of gold with the crown and other regalia, and conveyed them to the church of the Assumption accompanied by the grand equerry, Glinsky, and other important personages of the court. Soon after, the grand prince also repaired to the church. He was preceded by an ecclesiastic holding in his hand a crucifix, and sprinkling to the right and to the left holy water upon the crowd.

Ivan IV., surrounded by all the splendors of his court, entered the church, where he was encircled by the ecclesiastics, and received the benediction of the metropolitan bishop. A hymn was then sang by the accumulated choirs, which astounded the audience; after which mass was celebrated. In the midst of the cathedral, a platform was erected, which was ascended by twelve steps. Upon this platform there were two thrones of equal splendor, covered with cloth of gold, one for the monarch, the other for the metropolitan bishop. In front of the stage there was a desk, richly decorated, upon which were placed the crown regalia. The monarch and the bishop took their seats. The bishop, rising, pronounced a benediction upon the monarch, placed the crown upon his head, the scepter in his hand, and then, with a loud voice, prayed that God would endow this new David with the influences of the Holy Spirit, establish his throne in righteousness, and render him terrible to evil doers and a benefactor to those who should do well. The ceremonies were closed by an anthem by the choir. The young emperor then returned, with his court, to the Kremlin, through streets carpeted with velvet and damask. As they walked along, the emperor's brother, Youri, scattered among the crowd handsfull of gold coin, which he took from a vase carried at his side by Michel Glinsky. The moment Ivan IV. left the church, the people, till then motionless and silent, precipitated themselves upon the platform, and all the rich cloths which had decorated it were torn to shreds, each individual eager to possess a souvenir of the memorable day.

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CHAPTER XIII
THE REIGN OF IVAN IV

From 1546 to 1552

The Title of Tzar.—marriage of Ivan IV.—Virtues of His Bride.—Depraved Character of the Young Emperor.—Terrible Conflagrations.—Insurrections.—The Rebuke.—Wonderful Change in the Character of Ivan IV.—Confessions of Sin and Measures of Reform.—Sylvestre and Alexis Adachef.—The Code of Laws.—Reforms in the Church.—Encouragement To Men of Science and Letters.—The Embassage of Schlit.—War With Kezan.—Disasters and Disgrace.—Immense Preparation For the Chastisement of the Horde.—The March.—Repulse of the Tauredians.—Siege of Kezan.—Incidents of the Siege.

Though the monarchs of Russia, in all their relations with foreign powers, took the title of Tzar or Emperor, they also retained that of Grand Prince which was consecrated by ancient usage. And now the envoys of Ivan IV. were traversing Russia in all directions to find, among the maidens of noble blood, one whose beauty would render her worthy of the sovereign. The choice at last fell upon Anastasia, the daughter of a lady of illustrious rank, who was a widow. Language is exhausted, by the Russian annalists, in describing the perfections of her person, mind and heart. All conceivable social and moral excellences were in her united with the most brilliant intellectual gifts and the most exquisite loveliness.

The marriage was performed by the bishop in the church of Notre Dame. "You are now," said the metropolitan, in conclusion, "united for ever, by virtue of the mysteries of the gospel. Prostrate yourselves, then, before the Most High, and secure his favor by the practice of every virtue. But those virtues which should especially distinguish you, are the love of truth and of benevolence. Prince, love and honor your spouse. Princess, truly Christian, be submissive to your husband; for as the Redeemer is the head of the church, so is man the head of the woman."

For many days Moscow was surrendered to festivity and rejoicings. The emperor devoted his attention to the rich, the empress to the poor. Anastasia, since the death of her father, had lived remote from the capital, in the most profound rural seclusion. Suddenly, and as by magic, she found herself transported to the scenes of the highest earthly grandeur, but still she maintained the same beautiful simplicity of character which she had developed in the saddened home of her widowed mother. Ivan IV. was a man of ungovernable passions, and accustomed only to idleness, he devoted himself to the most gross and ignoble pleasures. Mercilessly he confiscated the estates of those who displeased him, and with caprice equal to his mercilessness, he conferred their possessions upon his favorites. He seemed to regard this arbitrary conduct as indicative of his independence and grandeur.

The situation of Russia was perhaps never more deplorable than at the commencement of the reign of Ivan IV. The Glinskys were in high favor, and easily persuaded the young emperor to gratify all their desires. Laden with honors and riches, they turned a deaf ear to all the murmurs which despotism, the most atrocious, extorted from every portion of the empire. The inhabitants of Pskof, oppressed beyond endurance by an infamous governor, sent seventy of their most influential citizens to Moscow to present their grievances to the emperor. Ivan IV. raved like a madman at what he called the insolence of his subjects, in complaining of their governor. Almost choking with rage, he ordered the seventy deputies to be put to death by the most cruel tortures.

Anastasia wept in anguish over these scenes, and her prayers were incessantly ascending, that God would change the heart of her husband. Her prayers were heard and answered. The same power which changed Saul of Tarsus into Paul the Apostle, seemed to renew the soul of Ivan IV. History is full of these marvelous transformations—a mental phenomenon only to be explained by the scriptural doctrine of regeneration. In Ivan's case, as in that of thousands of others, afflictions were instruments made available by the Holy Spirit for the heart's renewal.

Moscow was at this time a capital of vast extent and of great magnificence. As timber was abundant and easily worked, most of the buildings, even the churches and the palaces, were constructed of wood. Though almost every house was surrounded by a garden, these enclosures were necessarily not extensive, and the city was peculiarly exposed to the perils of conflagration.

On the 12th of April, 1547, the cry of fire alarmed the inhabitants, and soon the flames were spreading with fury which baffled all human power. The store-houses of commerce, the magazines of the crown, the convent of Epiphany and a large number of dwellings, extending from the gate of Illinsky, to the Kremlin and the Moskwa, were consumed. The river alone arrested the destruction. A powder magazine took fire, and with a terrible explosion its towers were thrown into the air, taking with them a large section of the walls. The ruins fell like an avalanche into the river, completely filling up its channel, adding the destruction of a deluge to that of the fire.

A week had hardly passed ere the cry of fire again was raised, and, in a few hours, the whole section of the city on the other side of the Yaouza was in ashes. This region was mostly occupied by mechanics and manufacturers, and immense suffering ensued. Six weeks elapsed, and the inhabitants were just beginning to recover from their consternation, and were sweeping away the ashes to rebuild, when on the 20th of June, the wind at the time blowing a gale, the fearful cry of fire again rang through the streets. The palaces of the nobles were now in flames. The palace of the Kremlin itself, the gorgeous streets which surrounded it, and the whole of the grand faubourg in a few moments were glowing like a furnace. God had come with flaming fire as his minister of vengeance, and resistance was unavailing. The whole city was now in ashes, and presented the aspect of an immense funeral pile, over which was spread a pall of thick and black smoke. The wooden edifices disappeared entirely. Those of stone and brick presented a still more gloomy aspect, with only portions of their walls standing, crumbling and blackened. The howling of the tempest, the roar of the flames, the crash of falling buildings, and the shrieks of the inhabitants, were all frequently overpowered by the explosions of the powder magazines in the arsenals of the Kremlin.

To many of the people it seemed that the day of judgment had actually arrived, that the trump of the archangel was sounding, and that the final conflagration had arrived. The palace of the emperor, his treasures, his precious things, his arms, his venerated images and the archives of the kingdom, all were devoured. The destruction of the city was almost as entire and as signal a proof of the divine displeasure as that of Sodom and Gomorrah. Even the metropolitan bishop, who was in the church of the Assumption, pleading for divine interposition, was with great difficulty rescued. Smothered, and in a state almost of insensibility, he was conveyed through billows of flame and smoke. Seventeen hundred adults, besides uncounted children, perished in the fire.

For many days the wretched inhabitants were seen wandering about, in the fields and among the ruins, searching for their children, their friends or any articles of furniture which might, by chance, have escaped the flames. Many became maniacs, and their cries arose in all directions like the howlings of wild beasts. The emperor and the nobles, to avoid the spectacle of so much misery, retired to the village of Vorobeif, a few miles from Moscow. The whole population of Moscow, being in a state of despair, and reckless of consequences, were ripe for any conspiracy against an emperor and his favorites, whose iniquities, in their judgment, had brought down upon them the indignation of Heaven.

Several of the higher clergy, in coöperation with some of the princes and nobles, resolved to arouse the energies of the populace to effect a change in the government. The Glinskys were the advisers and instigators of the king. Against them the fury of the populace was easily directed. These doomed minions of despotism were pursued with fury energized by despair. Ivan IV. was quite unable to protect them. The Glinskys, with their numerous partisans, had returned to Moscow to make arrangements for the rebuilding of the Kremlin when the mob fell upon them, and they were nearly all slain. In the eye of the populace, there was something so sacred in the person of their prince that no one thought of offering him any harm.

Ivan IV., astounded by this outbreak, was trembling in his palace at Vorobeif, and his truly pious wife, Anastasia, was, with tears, pleading with Heaven, when one of the clergy, an extraordinary man named Sylvestre, endowed with the boldness of an ancient prophet, entered the presence of the emperor. He was venerable in years, and his gray locks fell in clusters upon his shoulders. The boy king was overawed by his appearance. One word from that capricious king would cause the head of Sylvestre to fall from the block. But the intrepid Christian, with the solemnity of an embassador from God, with pointed finger and eye sparkling with indignation, thus addressed him:

"God's avenging hand is suspended over the head of a God-forgetting, man-oppressing tzar. Fire from heaven has consumed Moscow. The anger of the Most High has called up the people in revolt, and is spreading over the kingdom anarchy, fury and blood."

Then taking from his bosom a copy of the New Testament, he read to the king those divinely-inspired precepts which are alike applicable to monarchs and peasants, and, in tones subdued by sadness, urged the king to follow these sacred lessons. The warning was heeded, and Ivan became "a new creature." Whatever explanations philosophy may attempt of the sudden and marvelous change of the character of Ivan IV., the fact remains one of the marvels of history. He appears to have been immediately overwhelmed with a sense of his guilt; with tears he extended his hand to the courageous monitor, asked imploringly what he could do to avert the wrath and secure the favor of Heaven, and placed himself at once under the guidance of his new-found friend.

Sylvestre, a humble, world-renouncing Christian, sought nothing for himself, and would accept neither riches nor honors, but he remained near the throne to strengthen the young monarch in his good resolutions. There was a young man, Alexis Adachef, connected with the court who possessed a character of extraordinary nobleness and loveliness. He was of remarkable personal beauty, and his soul was pure and sensitive. Entirely devoted to the good of others, without the least apparent mixture of sordid motives, he engaged in the service of the tzar, and became to him a friend of priceless value. Alexis, mingling freely with the people, was acquainted with all their wants and griefs, and he coöperating with Sylvestre, inspired the emperor with a heart to conceive and energy to execute all good things.

From this conjunction is to be dated the commencement of the glory of the reign of Ivan IV. The first endeavor of the reformed monarch was to quell the tumult among the people. Three days after the assassination of the Glinskys, a mob from Moscow rushed out to the village of Vorobeif, surrounded the palace and demanded one of the aunts of the emperor and another of the nobles who had become obnoxious to them. The king immediately opened a fire upon mob and dispersed them. This decisive act restored order. Ivan IV. immediately devoted all his energies to preparing dwellings for the houseless poor and in relieving their necessities. His whole soul seemed aroused to promote the happiness of his subjects, both temporal and spiritual, and all selfish considerations were apparently obliterated from his mind. In order to consolidate, by the aids of religion, the happy change effected in the government and in his own heart, the young sovereign shut himself up for several days in solitude, and, in the exercises of self-examination, fasting and prayer, made the entire consecration of himself to his Maker. He then assembled the bishops in one of the churches, and, in their presence, with touching words and tearful eyes, made confession of his faults, implored divine forgiveness, and then, with the calmness of a soul relieved of the burden of sin, received the sacrament of the Lord's Supper.