A merchant of Pskof, on his way to Novgorod, heard the news; he left his goods on the road and galloped back to tell his fellow-townsmen what their magistrates had done, and "on the men of Pskof there fell fear and trembling and anguish; their throats grew dry by reason of their sorrow, and their lips parched. Many times, the Germans had come against them," says their chronicle, "but never before had there been such grief."
The bell of the Council was set ringing, and some cried, "Let us raise the shield against the Grand Prince! Let us close the gates of the city!" but the wiser ones saw how idle it was to resist since the nobles were on the other side. They sent to Basil, in Novgorod, a messenger, who burst into tears and said,—
"O Gosudar, be gracious to thine ancient inheritance for we, thy orphan children, were before and are now always dependent upon thee, and we did not think to resist thee. God and thou are the masters of this thine inheritance, and of us thy slaves."
Basil sent them his scribe Dalmatof, who repeated the conditions of pardon, and stood before the people waiting for their reply, and the people beat their foreheads upon the ground, and could speak never a word, because their sobs and tears choked them. It was only the infants at the breast who shed no tears." At last they cried,—
"Envoy of the Grand Prince, give us till to-morrow; we will take counsel and decide." And again the sobs broke forth, for "how should not their eyes have filled with scalding tears, and how could their hearts fail to be torn up by the roots?" asks the chronicle. Next morning the people met in council for the last time, and gave their answer to Dalmatof:—
"In our annals it is written that our fathers and our fore-fathers kissed the cross to the Grand Prince, their proprietor, who dwelt in Moscow, and swore that we of Pskof should serve him and never turn aside to Lithuania nor the Germans. For should we turn to Lithuania or the Germans, or be rebels to the Grand Prince, then the wrath of God would come upon us,—famine, fire, floods, and the inroad of the pagans. And the vow which the Grand Prince the proprietor took to us was the same, and the penalty the same if he broke it. Now thy inheritance, the city of Pskof, and we and the bell are in the hands of God and the Prince, and we have no wish to renounce the ancient oath and bring bloodshed upon our heads, and we have no wish to raise the shield against the Grand Prince nor shut the gates of the city. And if our proprietor the Grand Prince wishes to visit his inheritance, we are heartily glad to welcome him, lest he destroy us in the end."
Then Dalmatof had the great bell, the symbol of their independence, taken down from the tower of Trinity Church, and carried by night to the Grand Prince in Novgorod, and Basil himself came to Pskof and posted his men in the citadel, a thousand Muscovites and five hundred Novgorod artillerymen. He transplanted to Moscow three hundred boyars with their wives and children, and filled their places with as many families from the ten cities of Moscow; and thus in place of the refined and kindly manners of the men of Pskof were introduced those of the Muscovites, which are more debased in every respect, "for there was always much integrity, candor, and simplicity in the dealings of the men of Pskof."
"Alas," cries the annalist, "glorious city of Pskof! why this lamentation and tears? How can I but weep and lament? An eagle, a many-winged eagle with lion's claws, has swooped down upon me; he has taken captive my three cedars of Lebanon—my beauty, my riches, my children. Our land is a wilderness, our city destroyed, our commerce brought to naught. Our brothers have been carried away to a place where our fathers never dwelt, nor our grandfathers, nor our great-grandfathers."
Thus vanished the last spark of popular liberty in Russia.
Only two princes in all Russia were now in any wise independent. These Basil quickly brought under his hand. The Prince of Riazan escaped into Lithuania, and his rich domain was added to Moscow. Prince Basil Shemiakin of Severia was invited to Moscow, and at first honorably entertained. Suddenly Basil threw him into prison on a charge of treason, and took possession of his country, rich in fortresses and towns, fertile fields and wide forests. One of the Grand Prince's jesters had hinted at the fall of the last independent prince; he went through the streets of Moscow swinging a broom, and replying to all questions "that the Grand Prince's dominions were not yet cleaned, and that now was the fitting time to sweep all garbage out of the land." Basil also took pains that his nephew and his brothers should not cross his path. Dimitri, who was according to Western laws the true heir to the throne, died in prison. His brother Simon tried to escape to Lithuania, but was brought back, and pardoned only at the prayer of the Metropolitan.
Thus Basil strengthened his empire.
The Court of Basil
GRAND PRINCE OF MOSCOW
Basil was five-and-twenty before he married, and Herberstein says, "While he was taking counsel about his marriage, it struck him that it would be better to marry the daughter of one of his subjects than a foreigner, because he would thus not only spare himself great expense but also avoid having a wife used to foreign customs and of a different religion."
He ordered the governors of all his towns and provinces to send to Moscow the most beautiful maidens of noble birth whom they could find. Fifteen hundred fair girls came together at this call. The choice was reduced to five hundred, three hundred, two hundred, one hundred, ten; and of these ten, the healthiest and most beautiful, Solomonia, the daughter of a boyar, was the fortunate maid. Basil lived with her twenty-one years, but they had no children, and his love for her passed; and "one day," says the chronicle, "the Grand Prince was making a journey and he saw a bird's nest upon tree, and his eyes overflowed with tears, and began bitterly to mourn his fate:—
"'Woe is me!' he cried; 'what am I like? I am not like the birds of the air, because they increase; and I am not like the beasts of the fields, because they increase; and I am not like the waters, because the waves make them glad, and the are full of fish.' And looking at the earth he cried, 'O Lord I am not even like the earth, because the earth brings forth its fruit in due season, and the harvest gives blessing.' "Then Basil took counsel with his boyars, and he wept before them and said,—
MOUNT ATHOS
"Who shall be tsar over the Russian land, and over all my cities and provinces? My brothers? But they are not able to take care of their own cities."
The boyars replied, "The barren fig-tree was cut down and cast out of the vineyard." And all the people counselled Basil to put away his wife. So he put her in a convent at Suzdal.
Basil then married Helena, the daughter of Prince Basil Glinski, and niece of the Lithuanian captain, who had been in prison ever since his attempted flight to King Sigismond. The Metropolitan protested against this second marriage, but Basil had him deposed and banished to a monastery in the far north. Maxim, a Greek monk from Mt. Athos, who had come to arrange the splendid library of the Patriarchs and translate the sacred books into Slavonic, also dared to blame the Grand Prince, and was given over to his enemies, the Metropolitan Daniel and the ignorant priests, who hated him because of his great knowledge. He was accused of heresy and of falsely interpreting the Scriptures, and was banished to Tver.
Basil took less and less occasion to consult his council of boyars. Once a great lord made objection to one of his measures: "Silence, peasant!" was his reply.
His sister's husband was exiled for disobedience. One of his boyars complained loudly that the Grand Prince followed the foreign customs brought by his mother, and that he decided all questions for himself, "shut up alone with two others in his bedroom." His audacity cost him his life.