bound as serfs to the soil. Thousands of them fled, and an insupportable
inquisition was established, as hateful to the landowners as to the
serfs. All this was made worse by famine and pestilence, which ravaged
Russia for three years. And in the midst of this disaster the ghost of
the slain Dmitri rose to plague his murderer. In other words, one who
claimed to be the slain prince appeared, and avenged the murdered child,
his story forming one of the most interesting tales in the history of
Russia. It is this which we have now to tell.
About midsummer of the year 1603 Adam Wiszniowiecki, a Polish prince,
angry at some act of negligence in a young man whom he had lately
employed, gave him a box on the ear and called him by an insulting name.
"If you knew who I am, prince," said the indignant youth, "you would not
strike me nor call me by such a name."
"Knew who you are! Why, who are you?"
"I am Dmitri, son of Ivan IV., and the rightful czar of Russia."
Surprised by this extraordinary statement, the prince questioned him,
and was told a plausible story by the young man. He had escaped the
murderer, he said, the boy who died being the son of a serf, who
resembled and had been substituted for him by his physician Simon, who
knew what Boris designed. The physician had fled with him from Uglitch
and put him in the hands of a loyal gentleman, who for safety had
consigned him to a monastery.
The physician and gentleman were both dead, but the young man showed the
prince a Russian seal which bore Dmitri's arms and name, and a gold
cross adorned with jewels of great value, given him, he said, by his
princely godfather. He was about the age which Dmitri would have
reached, and, as a Russian servant who had seen the child said, had
warts and other marks like those of the true Dmitri. He possessed also a
persuasiveness of manner which soon won over the Polish prince.
The pretender was accepted as an illustrious guest by Prince
Wiszniowiecki, given clothes, horses, carriages, and suitable retinue,
and presented to other Polish dignitaries. Dmitri, as he was thenceforth
known, bore well the honors now showered upon him. He was at ease among
the noblest; gracious, affable, but always dignified; and all said that
he had the deportment of a prince.
He spoke Polish as well as Russian, was thoroughly versed in Russian
history and genealogy, and was, moreover, an accomplished horseman,
versed in field sports, and of striking vigor and agility, qualities
highly esteemed by the Polish nobles.
The story of this event quickly reached Russia, and made its way with
surprising rapidity through all the provinces. The czarevitch Dmitri had
not been murdered, after all! He was alive in Poland, and was about to
call the usurper to a terrible reckoning. The whole nation was astir
with the story, and various accounts of his having been seen in Russia
and of having played a brave part in the military expeditions of the
Cossacks were set afloat.
Boris soon heard of this claimant of the throne. He also received the
disturbing news that a monk was among the Cossacks of the Don urging
them to take up arms for the czarevitch who would soon be among them.
His first movement was the injudicious one of trying to bribe
Wiszniowiecki to give up the impostor to him,--the result being to
confirm the belief that he was in truth the prince he claimed to be.
The events that followed are too numerous to be given in detail, and it
must suffice here to say that on October 31, 1604, Dmitri entered
Russian territory at the head of a small Polish army, of less than five
thousand in all. This was a trifling force with which to invade an
empire, but it grew rapidly as he advanced. Town after town submitted on
his appearance, bringing to him, bound and gagged, the governors set
over them by Boris. Dmitri at once set them free and treated them with
politic humanity.
The first town to offer resistance was Novgorod-Swerski, which Peter
Basmanof, a general of Boris, had garrisoned with five hundred men.
Basmanof was brave and obstinate, and for several weeks he held the
force of Dmitri before this petty place, while Boris was making vigorous
efforts to collect an army among his discontented people. On the last
day of 1604 the two armies met, fifteen thousand against fifty thousand,
and on a broad open plain that gave the weaker force no advantage of
position.
But Dmitri made up for weakness by soldierly spirit. At the head of some
six hundred mail-clad Polish knights he vigorously charged the Russian
right wing, hurled it back upon the centre, and soon had the whole army
in disorder. The soldiers flung down their arms and fled, shouting, "The
czarevitch! the czarevitch!"
Yet in less than a month this important victory was followed by a
defeat. Dmitri had been weakened by his Poles being called home. Boris
gathered new forces, and on January 20, 1605, the armies met again, now
seventy thousand Muscovites against less than quarter their number. Yet
victory would have come to Dmitri again but for treachery in his army.
He charged the enemy with the same fierceness as before, bore down all
before him, routed the cavalry, tore a great gap in the line of the
infantry, and would have swept the field had the main body of his army,
consisting of eight thousand Zaporogues, come to his aid.
At this vital moment this great body of cavalry, half the entire army,
wheeled and quit the field,--bribed, it is said, by Boris. Such a
defection, at such a moment, was fatal. The Russians rallied; the day
was lost; nothing but flight remained. Dmitri fled, hotly pursued, and
his horse suffering from a wound. He was saved by his devoted Cossack
infantry, four thousand in number, who stood to their guns and faced the
whole Muscovite army. They were killed to a man, but Dmitri
escaped,--favored, as we are told, by some of the opposing leaders, who
did not want to make Boris too powerful.
All was not lost while Dmitri remained at liberty. Lost armies could be
restored. He took refuge in Putivle, one of the towns which had
pronounced in his favor, and while his enemies, who proved half-hearted
in the cause of Boris, wasted their time in besieging a small fortress,
new adherents flocked to his banner. Boris was furious against his
generals, but his fury caused them to hate instead of to serve him. He
tried to get rid of Dmitri by poison, but his agents were discovered and
punished, and the attempt helped his rival more than a victory would
have done.
Dmitri wrote to Boris, declaring that Heaven had protected him against
this base attempt, and ironically promising to extend mercy towards him.
"Descend from the throne you have usurped, and seek in the solitude of
the cloister to reconcile yourself with Heaven. In that case I will
forget your crimes, and even assure you of my sovereign protection."
All this was bitter to the Russian Macbeth. The princely blood which he
had shed to gain the throne seemed to redden the air about him. The
ghost of his slain victim haunted him. His power, indeed, seemed as
great as ever. He was an autocrat still, the master of a splendid court,
the ruler over a vast empire. Yet he knew that they who came with
reverence and adulation into his presence hated him in their hearts, and
anguish must have smitten the usurper to the soul.
His sudden death seemed to indicate this. On the 13th of April, 1605,
after dining in state with some distinguished foreigners, illness
suddenly seized him, blood burst from his mouth, nose, and ears, and
within two hours he was dead. He had reigned six years,--nearly the full
term predicted by the soothsayers.
The story of Dmitri is a long one still, but must be dealt with here
with the greatest brevity. Feodor, the son of Boris, was proclaimed czar
by the boyars of the court. The oath of allegiance was taken by the
whole city; all seemed to favor him; yet within six weeks this boyish
czar was deposed and executed without a sword being drawn in his
defence.
Basmanof, the leading general of Boris, had turned to the cause of
Dmitri, and the army seconded him. The people of Moscow declared in
favor of the pretender, there were a few executions and banishments, and
on the 20th of June the new czar entered Moscow in great pomp, amid the
acclamations of an immense multitude, who thronged the streets, the
windows, and the house-tops; and the young man who, less than two years
before, had had his ears boxed by a Polish prince, was now proclaimed
emperor and autocrat of the mighty Russian realm.
It was a short reign to which the false Dmitri--for there seems to be no
doubt of the death of the true Dmitri--had come. Within less than a year
Moscow was in rebellion, he was slain, and the throne was vacant. And
this result was largely due to his generous and kindly spirit, largely
to his trusting nature and disregard of Russian opinion.
No man could have been more unlike the tyrant Ivan, his reputed father.
Dmitri proved kind and generous to all, even bestowing honors upon
members of the family of Godunof. He remitted heavy taxes, punished
unjust judges, paid the debts contracted by Ivan, passed laws in the
interest of the serfs, and held himself ready to receive the petitions
and redress the grievances of the humblest of his subjects. His
knowledge of state affairs was remarkable for one of his age, and Russia
had never had an abler, nobler-minded, and more kindly-hearted czar.
But Dmitri in discretion was still a boy, and made trouble where an
older head would have mended it. He offended the boyars of his council
by laughing at their ignorance.
"Go and travel," he said; "observe the ways of civilized nations, for
you are no better than savages."
The advice was good, but not wise. He offended the Russian demand for
decorum in a czar by riding through the streets on a furious stallion,
like a Cossack of the Don. In religion he was lax, favoring secretly the
Latin Church. He chose Poles instead of Russians for his secretaries.
And he excited general disgust by the announcement that he was about to
marry a Polish woman, heretical to the Russian faith. The people were
still more incensed by the conduct of Marina, this foreign bride, both
before and after the wedding, she giving continual offence by her
insistence on Polish customs.
While thus offending the prejudices and superstitions of his people,
Dmitri prepared for his downfall by his trustfulness and clemency. He
dismissed the spies with whom former czars had surrounded themselves,
and laid himself freely open to treachery. The result of his acts and
his openness was a conspiracy, which was fortunately discovered.
Shuiski, its leader, was condemned to be executed. Yet as he knelt with
the axe lifted above him, he was respited and banished to Siberia; and
on his way thither a courier overtook him, bearing a pardon for him and
his banished brothers. His rank was restored, and he was again made a
councillor of the empire.
Clemency like this was praiseworthy, but it proved fatal. Like Caesar
before him, Dmitri was over-clement and over-confident, and with the
same result. Yet his answer to those who urged him to punish the
conspirator was a noble one, and his trustfulness worth far more than a
security due to cruelty and suspicion.
"No," he said, "I have sworn not to shed Christian blood, and I will
keep my oath. There are two ways of governing an empire,--tyranny and
generosity. I choose the latter. I will not be a tyrant. I will not
spare money; I will scatter it on all hands."
Only for the offence which he gave his people by disregarding their
prejudices, Dmitri might have long and ably reigned. His confidence
opened the way to a new conspiracy, of which Shuiski was again at the
head. Reports were spread through the city that Dmitri was a heretic and
an impostor, and that he had formed a plot to massacre the Muscovites by
the aid of the Poles whom he had introduced into the city.
As a result of the insidious methods of the conspirators, the whole city
broke out in rebellion, and at daybreak on the 29th of May, 1606, a body
of boyars gathered in the great square in full armor, and, followed by a
multitude of townsmen, advanced on the Kremlin, whose gates were thrown
open by traitors within.
Dmitri, who had only fifty guards in the palace, was aroused by the din
of bells and the uproar in the streets. An armed multitude filled the
outer court, shouting, "Death to the impostor!"
Soon conspirators appeared in the palace, where the czar, snatching a
sword from one of the guards, and attended by Basmanof, attacked them,
crying out, "I am not a Boris for you!"
He killed several with his own hands, but Basmanof was slain before
him, and he and the guards were driven back from chamber to chamber,
until the guards, finding that the czar had disappeared, laid down their
arms.
Dmitri, seeing that resistance was hopeless, had sought a distant room,
and here had leaped or been thrown from a window to the ground. The
height was thirty feet, his leg was broken by the fall, and he fainted
with the pain.
His last hope of life was gone. Some faithful soldiers who found him
sought to defend him against the mob who soon appeared, but their
resistance was of no avail. Dmitri was seized, his royal garments were
torn off, and the caftan of a pastry-cook was placed upon him. Thus
dressed, he was carried into a room of the palace for the mockery of a
trial.
"Bastard dog," cried one of the Russians, "tell us who you are and
whence you came."
"You all know I am your czar," replied Dmitri, bravely, "the legitimate
son of Ivan Vassilievitch. If you desire my death, give me time at least
to collect my senses."
At this a Russian gentleman named Valnief shouted out,--
"What is the use of so much talk with the heretic dog? This is the way I
confess this Polish fifer." And he put an end to the agony of Dmitri by
shooting him through the breast.
In an instant the mob rushed on the lifeless body, slashing it with axes
and swords. It was carried out, placed on a table, and a set of
bagpipes set on the breast with the pipe in the mouth.
"You played on us long enough; now play for us," cried the ribald
insulter.
Others lashed the corpse with their whips, crying, "Look at the czar,
the hero of the Germans."
For three days Dmitri's body lay exposed to the view of the populace,
but it was so hacked and mangled that none could recognize in it the
gallant young man who a few days before had worn the imperial robes and
crown.
On the third night a blue flame was seen playing over the table, and the
guards, frightened by this natural result of putrefaction, hastened to
bury the body outside the walls. But superstitious terrors followed the
prodigy: it was whispered that Dmitri was a wizard who, by magic arts,
had the power to come to life from the grave. To prevent this the body
was dug up again and burned, and the ashes were collected, mixed with
gunpowder, and rammed into a cannon, which was then dragged to the gate
by which Dmitri had entered Moscow. Here the match was applied, and the
ashes of the late czar were hurled down the road leading to Poland,
whence he had come.
Thus died a man who, impostor though he seems to have been, was perhaps
the noblest and best of all the Russian czars, while the story of his
rise and fall forms the most dramatic tale in all the annals of the
empire over which for one short year he ruled.
_THE ERA OF THE IMPOSTORS._
We have told how the ashes of Dmitri were loaded into a cannon and fired
from the gate of Moscow. They fell like seeds of war on the soil of
Russia, and for years that unhappy land was torn by faction and harried
by invasion. From those ashes new Dmitris seemed to spring, other
impostors rose to claim the crown, and until all these shades were laid
peace fled from the land.
Vassili Shuiski, the leader in the insurrection against Dmitri, had
himself proclaimed czar. He was destined to learn the truth of the
saying, "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." For hardly had the
mob that murdered Dmitri dispersed before rumors arose that their victim
was not dead. His body had been so mangled that none could recognize it,
and the story was set afloat that it was one of his officers who had
been killed, and that he had escaped. Four swift horses were missing
from the stables of the palace, and these were at once connected with
the assumed flight of the czar. Rumor was in the air, and even in Moscow
doubts of Dmitri's death grew rife.
Fuel soon fell on the flame. Three strangers in Russian dress, but
speaking the language of Poland, crossed the Oka River, and gave the
ferryman the high fee of six ducats, saying, "You have ferried the
czar; when he comes back to Moscow with a Polish army he will not forget
your service."
At a German inn, a little farther on, the same party used similar
language. This story spread like wildfire through Russia, and deeply
alarmed the new czar. To put it down he sought to play on the religious
feelings of the Russians, by making a saint of the original Dmitri. A
body was produced, said to have been taken from the grave of the slain
boy at Uglitch, but in a remarkable state of preservation, since it
still displayed the fresh hue of life and held in its hand some
strangely preserved nuts. Tales of miracles performed by the relics of
the new saint were also spread, but with little avail, for the people
were not very ready to believe the man who had stolen the throne.
War broke out despite these manufactured miracles. Prince
Shakhofskoi--the supposed leader of the party who had told the story at
the Oka--was soon in the field with an army of Cossacks and peasants,
and defeated the royal army. But the new Dmitri, in whose name he
fought, did not appear. It seemed as if Shakhofskoi had not yet been
able to find a suitable person to play the part.
Russia, however, was not long without a pretender. During Dmitri's reign
a young man had appeared among the Cossacks of the Volga, calling
himself Peter Feodorovitch, and claiming to be the son of the former
czar Feodor. This man now reappeared and presented himself to the rebel
army as the representative of his uncle Dmitri. He was eagerly welcomed
by Shakhofskoi, who badly needed some one whom he might offer to his
men as a prince.
And now we have to describe one of the strangest sieges in the annals of
history. Shakhofskoi, finding himself threatened by a powerful army,
took refuge in the fortified town of Toula. Here he was soon joined by
Bolotnikof, a Polish general who had come to Russia with a commission
bearing the imperial seal of Dmitri. In this stronghold they were
besieged by an army of one hundred thousand men, led by the czar
himself.
Toula was strong. It was vigorously defended, the garrison fighting
bravely for their lives. No progress was made with the siege, and
Shuiski grew disconsolate, for he knew that to fail now would be ruin.
From this state of anxiety he was relieved by a remarkable proposal,
that of an obscure individual who promised to drown all the people of
Toula and deliver the town into his hands. This extraordinary offer,
made by a monk named Kravkof, was at first received with incredulous
laughter, and it was some time before the czar and his council could be
brought to listen to the words of an idle braggart, as they deemed the
stranger. In the end the czar asked him to explain his plan.
It proved to be the following. Toula lay in a narrow valley, down whose
centre flowed the little river Oupa, passing through the town. Kravkof
suggested that they should dam this stream below the town. "Do as I
say," he remarked, "and if the whole town is not under water in a few
hours, I will answer for the failure with my head."
The project thus presented seemed feasible. Immediately all the millers
in the army, men used to the kind of work required, were put under his
orders, and the other soldiers were set to carrying sacks of earth to
the place chosen for the dam. As this rose in height, the water backed
up in the town. Soon many of the streets became canals, hundreds of
houses, undermined by the water, were destroyed, and the promise of
Kravkof seemed likely to be fulfilled.
Yet the garrison, confined in what had become a walled-in lake, fought
with desperate obstinacy. Water surrounded them, yet they waded to the
walls and fought. Famine decimated them, yet they starved and fought. A
terrible epidemic broke out in the water-soaked city, but the garrison
fought on. Dreadful as were their surroundings, they held out with
unflinching courage and intrepidity.
The dam was the centre of the struggle. The besiegers sought to raise it
still higher and deepen the water in the streets; the besieged did their
best to break it down and relieve the city. It had grown to a great
height with such rapidity that the superstitious people of Toula felt
sure that magic had aided in its building and fancied that it might be
destroyed by magic means. A monk declared that Shuiski had brought
devils to his aid, but professed to be a proficient in the black art,
and offered, for a hundred roubles, to fight the demons in their own
element.
Bolotnikof accepted his terms, and he stripped, plunged into the river,
and disappeared. For a full hour nothing was seen of him, and every one
gave him up for lost. But at the end of that time he rose to the surface
of the water, his body covered with scratches. The story he had to tell
was, to say the least, remarkable.
"I have had a frightful conflict," he said, "with the twelve thousand
devils Shuiski has at work upon his dam. I have settled six thousand of
them, but the other six thousand are the worst of all, and will not give
in."
Thus against men and devils alike, against water, famine, and
pestilence, fought the brave men of Toula, holding out with
extraordinary courage. Letters came to them in Dmitri's name, promising
help, but it never came. At length, after months of this brave defence
had elapsed, Shakhofskoi proposed that they should capitulate. The
Cossacks of the garrison, furious at the suggestion, seized and thrust
him into a dungeon. Not until every scrap of food had been eaten, horses
and dogs devoured, even leather gnawed as food, did Bolotnikof and Peter
the pretender offer to yield, and then only on condition that the
soldiers should receive honorable treatment. If not, they would die with
arms in their hands, and devour one another as food, rather than
surrender. As for themselves, they asked for no pledges of safety.
Shuiski accepted the terms, and the gates were opened. Bolotnikof
advanced boldly to the czar and offered himself as a victim, presenting
his sword with the edge laid against his neck.
"I have kept the oath I swore to him who, rightly or wrongly, calls
himself Dmitri," he said. "Deserted by him, I am in your power. Cut off
my head if you will; or, if you will spare my life, I will serve you as
I have served him."
This appeal was wasted on Shuiski. He forgot the clemency which the czar
Dmitri had formerly shown to him, sent Bolotnikof to Kargopol, and soon
after ordered him to be drowned. Peter the pretender was hanged on the
spot. Shakhofskoi alone was spared. They found him in chains, which he
said had been placed on him because he counselled the obstinate rebels
to submit. Shuiski set him free, and the first use he made of his
liberty was to kindle the rebellion again.
Thus ended this remarkable siege, one in some respects without parallel
in the history of war. What followed must be briefly told. Though the
siege of Toula ended with the hanging of one pretender to the throne,
another was already in the field. The new Dmitri, in whose name the war
was waged, had made his appearance during the siege. Some of the
officers of the first Dmitri pretended to recognize him, but in reality
he was a coarse, vulgar, ignorant knave, who had badly learned his
lesson, and lacked all the native princeliness of his predecessor.
Yet he had soon a large army at his back, and with it, on April 24,
1608, he defeated the army of the czar with great slaughter. He might
easily have taken Moscow, but instead of advancing on it he halted at
the village of Tushino, twelve versts away, where he held his court for
seventeen months.