1564.
Prince Andrej Kourbsky was one of the chief boyards or nobles at the
Court of Ivan, the first Grand Prince of Muscovy who assumed the Eastern
title of Tzar, and who relieved Russia from the terrible invasions of
the Tatars. This wild race for nearly four hundred years had roamed over
the country, destroying and plundering all they met with, and blighting
all the attempts at civilization that had begun to be made in the
eleventh century. It was only when the Russians learnt the use of
firearms that these savages were in any degree repressed. In the year
1551 the city of Kazan, upon the River Kazanka, a tributary of the
Volga, was the last city that remained in the hands of the Tatars. It
was a rich and powerful place, a great centre of trade between Europe
and the East, but it was also a nest of robbers, who had frequently
broken faith with the Russians, and had lately expelled the Khan Schig
Alei for having endeavored to fulfill his engagements to them. The Tzar
Ivan Vassilovitch, then only twenty-two years of age, therefore marched
against the place, resolved at any cost to reduce it and free his
country from these inveterate foes.
On his way he received tidings that the Crimean Tatars had come
plundering into Russia, probably thinking to attack Moscow, while Ivan
was besieging Kazan. He at once sent off the Prince Kourbsky with 15,000
men, who met double that number of Tatars at Toula, and totally defeated
them, pursuing them to the River Chevorona, where, after a second
defeat, they abandoned a great number of Russian captives, and a great
many camels. Prince Kourbsky was wounded in the head and shoulder, but
was able to continue the campaign.
Some of the boyards murmured at the war, and declared that their
strength and resources were exhausted. Upon this the Tzar desired that
two lists might be drawn up of the willing and unwilling warriors in his
camp. 'The first', he said, 'shall be as dear to me as my own children;
their needs shall be made known to me, and I will share all I have with
them. The others may stay at home; I want no cowards in my army.' No one
of course chose to be in the second list, and about this time was formed
the famous guard called the Strelitzes, a body of chosen warriors who
were always near the person of the Tzar.
In the middle of August, 1552, Ivan encamped in the meadows on the banks
of the Volga, which spread like a brilliant green carpet around the hill
upon which stood the strongly fortified city of Kazan. The Tatars had no
fears. 'This is not the first time', they said, 'that we have seen the
Muscovites beneath our walls. Their fruitless attacks always end in
retreats, till we have learned to laugh them to scorn;' and when Ivan
sent them messengers with offers of peace, they replied, 'All is ready;
we only await your coming to begin the feast.'
They did not know of the great change that the last half-century had
made in sieges. One of the Italian condottieri, or leaders of free
companies, had made his way to Moscow, and under his instructions,
Ivan's troops were for the first time to conduct a siege in the regular
modern manner, by digging trenches in the earth, and throwing up the
soil in front into a bank, behind which the cannon and gunners are
posted, with only small openings made through which to fire at some spot
in the enemy's walls. These trenches are constantly worked nearer and
nearer to the fortifications, till by the effect of the shot an opening
or breach must be made in the walls, and the soldiers can then climb up
upon scaling ladders or heaps of small faggots piled up to the height of
the opening. Sometimes, too, the besiegers burrow underground till they
are just below the wall, then fill the hole with gunpowder, and blow
up all above them; in short, instead of, as in former days, a well-
fortified city being almost impossible to take, except by starving out
the garrison, a siege is in these times almost equally sure to end in
favor of the besiegers.
All through August and September the Russians made their approaches,
while the Tatars resisted them bravely, but often showing great
barbarity. Once when Ivan again sent a herald, accompanied by a number
of Tatar prisoners, to offer terms to Yediguer, the present Khan, the
defenders called out to their countrymen, 'You had better perish by our
pure hands than by those of the wretched Christians,' and shot a whole
flight of arrows at them. Moreover, every morning the magicians used to
come out at sunrise upon the walls, and their shrieks, contortions,
and waving of garments were believed, not only by the Tatars but by the
Russians, and by Andrej Kourbsky himself, to bring foul weather, which
greatly harassed the Russians. On this Ivan sent to Moscow for a sacred
cross that had been given to the Grand Prince Vladimir when he was
converted; the rivers were blessed, and their water sprinkled round the
camp, and the fair weather that ensued was supposed to be due to the
counteraction of the incantations of the magicians. These Tatars
were Mahometans, but they must have retained some of the wind-raising
enchantments of their Buddhist brethren in Asia.
A great mine had been made under the gate of Arsk, and eleven barrels
of gunpowder placed in it. On the 30th of September it was blown up,
and the whole tower became a heap of ruins. For some minutes the
consternation of the besieged was such that there was a dead silence
like the stillness of the grave. The Russians rushed forward over
the opening, but the Tatars, recovering at the sight of them, fought
desperately, but could not prevent them from taking possession of the
tower at the gateway. Other mines were already prepared, and the Tzar
gave notice of a general assault for the next day, and recommended
all his warriors to purify their souls by repentance, confession,
and communion, in readiness for the deadly strife before them. In the
meantime, he sent Yediguer a last offer of mercy, but the brave Tatars
cried out, 'We will have no pardon! If the Russians have one tower, we
will build another; if they ruin our ramparts we will set up more. We
will be buried under the walls of Kazan, or else we will make him raise
the siege.'
Early dawn began to break. The sky was clear and cloudless. The Tatars
were on their walls, the Russians in their trenches; the Imperial eagle
standard, which Ivan had lately assumed, floated in the morning wind.
The two armies were perfectly silent, save here and there the bray of
a single trumpet, or beat of a naker drum in one or the other, and the
continuous hum of the hymns and chants from the three Russian chapel-
tents. The archers held their arrows on the string, the gunners stood
with lighted matches. The copper-clad domes of the minarets began to
glow with the rising sunbeams; the muezzins were on the roofs about to
call the Moslemin to prayer; the deacon in the Tzar's chapel-tent was
reading the Gospel. 'There shall be one fold and one Shepherd.' At that
moment the sun's disk appeared above the eastern hills, and ere yet the
red orb had fully mounted above the horizon, there was a burst as it
were of tremendous thunderings, and the ground shook beneath the church.
The Tzar went to the entrance, and found the whole city hill so 'rolled
in sable smoke', that he could distinguish nothing, and, going back to
his place, desired that the service should continue. The deacon was in
the midst of the prayer for the establishment of the power of the Tzar
and the discomfiture of his enemies, when the crushing burst of another
explosion rushed upon their ears, and as it died away another voice
broke forth, the shout raised by every man in the Russian lines, 'God is
with us!' On then they marched towards the openings that the mines
had made, but there the dauntless garrison, in spite of the terror and
destruction caused by the two explosions, met them with unabated fury,
rolling beams or pouring boiling water upon them as they strove to climb
the breach, and fighting hand to hand with them if they mounted it.
However, by the time the Tzar had completed his devotions and mounted
his horse, his eagle could be seen above the smoke upon the citadel.
Still the city had to be won, step by step, house by house, street by
street; and even while struggling onwards the Russians were tempted
aside by plunder among the rich stores of merchandise that were heaped
up in the warehouses of this the mart of the East. The Khan profited by
their lack of discipline, and forced them back to the walls; nay, they
would have absolutely been driven out at the great gate, but that they
beheld their young Tzar on horseback among his grey-haired councillors.
By the advice of these old men Ivan rode forward, and with his own hand
planted the sacred standard at the gates, thus forming a barrier that
the fugitives were ashamed to pass. At the same time he, with half his
choice cavalry, dismounted, and entered the town all fresh and vigorous,
their rich armor glittering with gold and silver, and plumes of various
colours streaming from their helmets in all the brilliancy of Eastern
taste. This reinforcement recalled the plunderers to their duty, and the
Tatars were driven back to the Khan's palace, whence, after an hour's
defense, they were forced to retreat.
At a postern gate, Andrej Kourbsky and two hundred men met Yediguer and
10,000 Tatars, and cut off their retreat, enclosing them in the narrow
streets. They forced their Khan to take refuge in a tower, and made
signs as if to capitulate. 'Listen,' they said. 'As long as we had a
government, we were willing to die for our prince and country. Now Kazan
is yours, we deliver our Khan to you, alive and unhurt--lead him to the
Tzar. For our own part, we are coming down into the open field to drain
our last cup of life with you.'
Yediguer and one old councillor were accordingly placed in the hands of
an officer, and then the desperate Tatars, climbing down the outside of
the walls, made for the Kazanka, where no troops, except the small body
under Andrej Kourbsky and his brother Romanus, were at leisure to pursue
them. The fighting was terrible, but the two princes kept them in view
until checked by a marsh which horses could not pass. The bold fugitives
took refuge in a forest, where, other Russian troops coming up, all were
surrounded and slain, since not a man of them would accept quarter.
Yediguer was kindly treated by Ivan, and accompanying him to Moscow,
there became a Christian, and was baptized by the name of Simeon, in the
presence of the Tzar and his whole court, on the banks of the Moskwa. He
married a Russian lady, and his whole conduct proved that his conversion
was sincere.
But this story has only been told at so much length to show what manner
of man Andrej Kourbsky was, and Ivan Vassilovitch had been, and how they
had once been brethren in arms; and perhaps it has been lingered over
from the melancholy interest there must always be in watching the fall
of a powerful nation, and the last struggles of gallant men. Ivan
was then a gallant, religious and highly gifted prince, generous and
merciful, and with every promise of a glorious reign, full of benefits
to his country. Alas! this part of his career was one glimpse of
brightness in the course of a long tempestuous day. His reign had begun
when he was but three years old. He had had a violent and cruel mother,
and had, after her death, been bred up by evil-minded courtiers, who
absolutely taught him cruel and dissolute amusements in order to prevent
him from attending to state affairs. For a time, the exhortations of
the good and fearless patriarch, and the influence of his gentle wife
Anastasia, had prevailed, and with great vigor and strong principle
he had shaken off all the evil habits of his boyhood, and begun, as it
seemed, an admirable reign.
Too soon, a severe illness shook the balance of his mind, and this
was quickly followed by the death of the excellent Tzarina Anastasia.
Whether grief further unsettled him, or whether the loss of her gentle
influence left him a prey to his wicked councillors, from that time
forward his conduct was so wildly savage and barbarous as to win for him
the surname of the Terrible. Frantic actions, extravagant excesses, and
freaks of horrible cruelty looked like insanity; and yet, on the other
hand, he often showed himself a clear-headed and sagacious monarch,
anxious for the glory and improvement of his people.
But he lived in continual suspicion, and dreaded every eminent man in
his dominions. Kourbsky whom he had once loved and trusted, and had
charged with the command of his army, as his most able boyard, fell
under his suspicion; and, with horror and indignation, learnt that the
Tzar was plotting against his life, and intended to have him put to
death. Kourbsky upon this explained to his wife that she must either see
him put to a shameful death, or let him leave her for ever. He gave his
blessing to his son, a boy of nine years old, and leaving his house at
night he scaled the wall of Moscow, and meeting his faithful servant,
Vasili Shibanoff, with two horses, he made his escape. This Vasili was
his stirrup-bearer, one of those serfs over whom the boyard on whose
land they were born possessed absolute power. That power was often
abused, but the instinctive faithfulness of the serf towards his master
could hardly be shaken, even by the most savage treatment, and a well-
treated serf viewed his master's family with enthusiastic love and
veneration. Vasili accompanied his master's flight through the birch
forests towards the Livonian frontier, the country where but lately
Kourbsky had been leading the Tzar's armies. On the way the prince's
horse became exhausted by his weight, and Vasili insisted on giving up
his own in its stead, though capture in the course of such desertion
would have been certain death. However, master and servant safely
arrived at Wolmar in Livonia, and there Andrej came to the determination
of renouncing the service of the ungrateful Ivan, and entering that of
the King of Poland. For this last step there was no excuse. Nothing can
justify a man in taking up arms against his country, but in the middle
Ages the tie of loyalty was rather to the man than to the state, and
Andrej Kourbsky seems to have deemed that his honor would be safe,
provided he sent a letter to his sovereign, explaining his grievance and
giving up his allegiance. The letter is said to have been full of grave
severity and deep, suppressed indignation, though temperate in tone; but
no one would consent to be the bearer of such a missive, since the cruel
tyrant's first fury was almost certain to fall on him who presented it.
Believing his master's honor at stake, Vasili offered himself to be the
bearer of the fatal letter, and Kourbsky accepted the offer, tendering
to him a sum of money, which the serf rejected, knowing that money would
soon be of little service to him, and seeking no reward for what he
deemed his duty to his lord.
As Ivan's justice had turned into barbarity, so his religion had turned
into foolish fanatic observance. He had built a monastery near Moscow
for himself and three hundred chosen boyards, and every morning at
three or four o'clock he took his two sons into the belfry with him and
proceeded to strike the bells, the Russian mode of ringing them, till
all the brethren were assembled. This bell-sounding was his favorite
occupation, and in it he was engaged when Vasili arrived. The servant
awaited him in the vestibule, and delivered the letter with these words:
'From my master and thine exile, Prince Andrej Kourbsky.'
Ivan answered by such a blow on the leg with his iron-tipped rod that
the blood poured from the wound; but Vasili neither started, cried out,
nor moved a feature. At once the Tzar bade him be seized and tortured,
to make him disclose whether his master had any partners in guilt, or
if any plans were matured. But no extremity of agony could extract aught
but praises of the prince, and assurances of his readiness to die for
him. From early morning till late at night the torturers worked, one
succeeding when another was tired out; but nothing could overcome his
constancy, and his last words were a prayer to implore his God to have
mercy on his master and forgive his desertion.
His praise came even from the tyrant, who wrote to Kourbsky--'Let thy
servant Vaska [Footnote: the abbreviation of Vasili or Basil.] shame
thee. He preserved his truth to thee before the Tzar and the people.
Having given thee his word of faith, he kept it, even before the gates
of death.'
After the flight of Kourbsky, the rage of Ivan continued to increase
with each year of his life. He had formed a sort of bodyguard of a
thousand ruffians, called the Oprichnina, who carried out his barbarous
commands, and committed an infinity of murders and robberies on their
own account. He was like a distorted caricature of Henry VIII, and, like
him, united violence and cruelty with great exactness about religious
worship, carrying his personal observances to the most fanatic
extravagance.
In the vacancy of the Metropolitan See, he cast his eyes upon the
monastery in the little island of Solovsky, in the White Sea, where the
Prior, Feeleep Kolotchof, was noted for his holy life, and the good he
had done among the wild and miserable population of the island. He was
the son of a rich boyard, but had devoted himself from his youth to a
monastic life, and the fame of his exertions in behalf of the islanders
had led the Tzar to send him not only precious vessels for the use
of his church, but contributions to the stone churches, piers, and
hostelries that he raised for his people; for whom he had made roads,
drained marshes, introduced cattle, and made fisheries and salt
pans, changing the whole aspect of the place, and lessening even the
inclemency of the climate.
On this good man the Tzar fixed his choice. He wrote to him to come
to Moscow to attend a synod, and on his arrival made him dine at the
palace, and informed him that he was to be chief pastor of the Russian
Church. Feeleep burst into tears, entreating permission to refuse, and
beseeching the Tzar not to trust 'so heavy a freight to such a feeble
bark'. Ivan held to his determination, and Feeleep then begged him at
least to dismiss the cruel Oprichnina. 'How can I bless you,' he said,
'while I see my country in mourning?'
The Tzar replied by mentioning his suspicions of all around him, and
commanded Feeleep to be silent. He expected to be sent back to his
convent at once, but, instead of this, the Tzar commanded the clergy
to elect him Archbishop, and they all added their entreaties to him to
accept the office, and endeavor to soften the Tzar, who respected him;
and he yielded at last, saying, 'The will of the Tzar and the pastors of
the church must, then, be done.'
At his consecration, he preached a sermon on the power of mildness, and
the superiority of the victories of love over the triumphs of war. It
awoke the better feelings of Ivan, and for months he abstained from any
deed of violence; his good days seemed to have returned and he lived in
intimate friendship with the good Archbishop.
But after a time the sleeping lion began to waken. Ivan's suspicious
mind took up an idea that Feeleep had been incited by the nobles to
request the abolition of the Oprichnina, and that they were exciting
a revolt. The spies whom he sent into Moscow told him that wherever an
Oprichnik appeared, the people shrank away in silence, as, poor things!
they well might. He fancied this as a sign that conspiracies were
brewing, and all his atrocities began again. The tortures to which whole
families were put were most horrible; the Oprichniks went through the
streets with poignards and axes, seeking out their victims, and killing
from ten to twenty a day. The corpses lay in the streets, for no one
dared to leave his house to bury them. Feeleep vainly sent letters and
exhortations to the Tzar--they were unnoticed. The unhappy citizens came
to the Archbishop, entreating him to intercede for them, and he gave
them his promise that he would not spare his own blood to save theirs.
One Sunday, as Feeleep was about to celebrate the Holy Communion,
Ivan came into the Cathedral with a troop of his satellites, like him,
fantastically dressed in black cassocks and high caps. He came towards
the Metropolitan, but Feeleep kept his eyes fixed on the picture of our
Lord, and never looked at him. Someone said, 'Holy Father, here is the
prince; give him your blessing.'
'No,' said the Archbishop, 'I know not the Tzar in this strange
disguise--still less do I know him in his government. Oh, Prince! we are
here offering sacrifice to the Lord, and beneath the altar the blood
of guiltless Christians is flowing in torrents... You are indeed on the
throne, but there is One above all, our Judge and yours. How shall
you appear before his Judgment Seat?--stained with the blood of the
righteous, stunned with their shrieks, for the stones beneath your feet
cry out for vengeance to Heaven. Prince, I speak as shepherd of souls; I
fear God alone.'
The Archbishop was within the golden gates, which, in Russian churches,
close in the sanctuary or chancel, and are only entered by the clergy.
He was thus out of reach of the cruel iron-tipped staff, which the Tzar
could only strike furiously on the pavement, crying out, 'Rash monk,
I have spared you too long. Henceforth I will be to you such as you
describe.'
The murders went on in their full horrors; but, in spite of the threat,
the Archbishop remained unmolested, though broken-hearted at the
cruelties around him. At last, however, his resolute witness became more
than the tyrant would endure, and messengers were secretly sent to the
island of Solovsky, to endeavor to find some accusation against him.
They tampered with all the monks in the convent, to induce them to
find some fault in him, but each answered that he was a saint in
every thought, word, and deed; until at last Payssi, the prior who had
succeeded him, was induced, by the hope of a bishopric, to bear false
witness against him.
He was cited before an assembly of bishops and boyards, presided over by
the Tzar, and there he patiently listened to the monstrous stories told
by Payssi. Instead of defending himself, he simply said, 'This seed
will not bring you a good harvest;' and, addressing himself to the
Tzar, said, 'Prince, you are mistaken if you think I fear death.
Having attained an advanced age, far from stormy passions and worldly
intrigues, I only desire to return my soul to the Most High, my
Sovereign Master and yours. Better to perish an innocent martyr, than as
Metropolitan to look on at the horrors and impieties of these wretched
times. Do what you will with me! Here are the pastoral staff, the white
mitre, and the mantle with which you invested me. And you, bishops,
archimandrites, abbots, servants of the altar, feed the flock of Christ
zealously, as preparing to give an account thereof, and fear the Judge
of Heaven more than the earthly judge.'
He was then departing, when the Tzar recalled him, saying that he could
not be his own judge, and that he must await his sentence. In truth,
worse indignities were preparing for him. He was in the midst of the
Liturgy on the 8th of November, the Greek Michaelmas, when a boyard came
in with a troop of armed Oprichniks, who overawed the people, while the
boyard read a paper degrading the Metropolitan from his sacred office;
and then the ruffians, entering through the golden gates tore off his
mitre and robes, wrapped him in a mean gown, absolutely swept him out of
the church with brooms, and took him in a sledge to the Convent of
the Epiphany. The people ran after him, weeping bitterly, while the
venerable old man blessed them with uplifted hands, and, whenever he
could be heard, repeated his last injunction, 'Pray, pray to God.'
Once again he was led before the Emperor, to hear the monstrous sentence
that for sorcery, and other heavy charges, he was to be imprisoned for
life. He said no reproachful word, only, for the last time, he besought
the Tzar to have pity on Russia, and to remember how his ancestors
had reigned, and the happy days of his youth. Ivan only commanded the
soldiers to take him away; and he was heavily ironed, and thrown into a
dungeon, whence he was afterwards transferred to a convent on the banks
of the Moskwa, where he was kept bare of almost all the necessaries of
life: and in a few days' time the head of Ivan Borissovitch Kolotchof,
the chief of his family, was sent to him, with the message, 'Here are
the remains of your dear kinsman, your sorcery could not save him!'
Feeleep calmly took the head in his arms, blessed it, and gave it back.
The people of Moscow gathered round the convent, gazed at his cell, and
told each other stories of his good works, which they began to magnify
into miracles. Thereupon the Emperor sent him to another convent, at a
greater distance. Here he remained till the next year, 1569, when Maluta
Skouratof, a Tatar, noted as a favorite of the Tzar, and one of the
chief ministers of his cruelty, came into his cell, and demanded his
blessing for the Tzar.
The Archbishop replied that blessings only await good men and good
works, adding tranquilly, 'I know what you are come for. I have long
looked for death. Let the Tzar's will be done.' The assassin then
smothered him, but pretended to the abbot that he had been stifled by
the heat of the cell. He was buried in haste behind the altar, but his
remains have since been removed to his own cathedral at Moscow, the
scene where he had freely offered his own life by confronting the tyrant
in the vain endeavor to save his people.
Vain, too, was the reproof of the hermit, who shocked Ivan's scruples
by offering him a piece of raw flesh in the middle of Lent, and told him
that he was preying on the flesh and blood of his subjects. The crimes
of Ivan grew more and more terrible, and yet his acuteness was such that
they can hardly be inscribed to insanity. He caused the death of his own
son by a blow with that fatal staff of his; and a last, after a fever
varied by terrible delirium, in which alone his remorse manifested
itself, he died while setting up the pieces for a game at chess, on the
17th of March, 1584.
This has been a horrible story, in reality infinitely more horrible
than we have made it; but there is this blessing among many others in
Christianity, that the blackest night makes its diamonds only show their
living luster more plainly: and surely even Ivan the Terrible, in spite
of himself, did something for the world in bringing out the faithful
fearlessness of Archbishop Feeleep, and the constancy of the stirrup-
bearer, Vasili.