In 1571 Ivan’s voievodes failed him. They were unable, or unwilling, to oppose the Tartar horde and it reached Moscow. There the enemy pillaged and burnt the town, destroying the stores, houses and buildings outside the Kremlin. The town suffered worse than in the great conflagrations of 1547, but the Tartars, satisfied with the spoil, withdrew. They subsequently sent envoys to Ivan and these were at once imprisoned. Kept in dark rooms, ill-treated, almost starved,—they endured; made light of the hardships; scorned their guardians. At last an audience was granted them.
“The Ambassador enters Ivan’s presence; his followers kept back in a space with grates of iron between the Emperor and them; at which the ambassador chafes with a hellish, hollow voice, looking fierce and grimly. Four captains of the guard bring him near the Emperor’s seat. Himself, a most ugly creature, without reverence, thunders out, says,—His master and lord, Devlet Geray, great Emperor of all the Kingdoms and Kams the sun did spread his beams over, sent to him Ivan Vasilievich, his vassal, and Grand Duke over Russia by his permission, to know how he did like the scourge of his displeasure by sword, fire and famine? Had sent him for remedy (pulling out a foul, rusty knife) to cut his throat withal.” They hasted him forth from the room, and would have taken off his gown and cap, but he and his company strove with them so stoutly. The Emperor fell into such an agony; sent for his ghostly father; tore his own hair and beard for madness! Then sent away the ambassador with this message, “Tell the miscreant and unbeliever, thy master, it is not he, it is for my sins, and the sins of my people against my God and Christ. He it is that hath given him, a limb of Satan, the power and opportunity to be the instrument of my rebuke, by whose pleasure and grace I doubt not of revenge, and to make him my vassal ere long be.” The Tartar answered, “He would not do him so much service as to do any such message for him.”—Horsey.
Ivan had to send his own emissaries to the Tartars and the Khan kept them imprisoned seven years, and in other ways showed his contempt for the ruler of Moscow. But for Ivan’s newly-found friends the English, his enemies in east and west would have conquered him. The English, much to the disgust of Swedes and Poles, supplied Ivan with artillery and small arms; improved engines of war, much gunpowder, and showed his men how to use them—Russians are not slow to learn.
In 1548 Ivan sent John Schlitte to Germany to enlist foreign artisans for his service. Attracted by the high remuneration offered, a hundred were willing to accompany Schlitte back to Moscow, but the Governments, anticipating danger to their territory if the Russ became enlightened, refused permission. Only a few determined stragglers reached Russian territory. The first printers in Russia were encouraged for a time, then, for their own safety, had hurriedly to seek exile.
For Moscow Ivan did little: twice during his reign the town was destroyed by fire. After the first he built himself a new palace of wood within the Kremlin; later he had another constructed outside, between the Nikitskaia and the Arbat. For a long time he lived in neither, preferring a wretched dwelling in a far off village, whence he believed he could, at need, escape unobserved to England if any of his subjects took up arms against him.
The monument of his reign is the church in the Grand Place. Dedicated to the “Intercession of the Holy Virgin,” it was built at Ivan’s command, and at the expense of Kazan, to commemorate the conquest of that town, which fell on the first of October 1552. Commenced in 1553, it was completed six years later and consecrated by the Metropolitan Macarius on the day of its patron saint.
The name of its architect is unknown. Tradition asserts that Ivan, to make sure that this church should be “the crowning effort of his wonderful genius,” put out his eyes. There is no evidence in support of this story, and it is unlikely that Ivan would have done a thing so usual.
Many writers have asserted that this fantastic edifice is a mixture of the Gothic, Moorish, Indian, Byzantine and other styles of architecture. As a matter of fact it is but an exaggeration of the Russian style, an agglomeration of domes, towers and spires, one or other of which may be found on many buildings in “wooden Russia.” In the chapter on “Ecclesiastical Moscow” the reader will find further information on this point. It appears to embody the salient features of many styles, eastern and western, and the whole, if neither beautiful nor magnificent is strikingly imposing and original. Unlike other Russian churches the belfry instead of being at the west end, is at the east. Nine of its chapels are each surmounted by a lofty roof differing from the others.
The central one, that dedicated to the Virgin, has a high tower and wonderful spire, the paintings on its internal converging sides adding to its extravagant proportions. The other eight chapels on this floor surround the spire and are covered with the usual arched vault supporting longer or shorter cylindrical towers, surmounted with cupolas of different forms and sizes. One, has apparently large facets; another bristles like the back of a hedgehog; a third bears closest resemblance to a pine-apple, a fourth to a melon; a fifth is in folds, another has spiral gonflements—none are plain. A covered gallery extends from north to south, with roofed and spired stairways leading up to the church level, and a narrow passage and outside wall enclose the remaining chapels. The quaint belfry with its Russo-Gothic spire and bright roofing, being unlike aught else, is in keeping with the general design. Outside, the central dome is brightly gilt, the others are painted in gaudy colours, and the whole of the exterior is decorated with crude patterns in strong contrast. Its design is bizarre; its colour is motley; the two both harmonise and contrast—the whole fascinates. It is at once both a nightmare and a revelation. Like an impressionist’s picture it rivets attention by apparent strength and seeming originality. It cannot be forgotten, yet it repels by its egregious fatuity. It is the over-inflated frog at the instant of explosion. It is not even known by its correct name: covering the remains of a