The Fall Of Novgorod The Great


The Czar of Russia is the one political deity in Europe, the sole

absolute autocrat. More than a hundred millions of people have delivered

themselves over, fettered hand and foot, almost body and soul, to the

ownership of one man, without a voice in their own government, without

daring to speak, hardly daring to think, otherwise than he approves.

Thousands of them, millions of them, perhaps, are saying to-day, in the

w
rds of Hamlet, "It is not and it cannot come to good; but break my

heart, for I must hold my tongue."



Who is this man, this god of a nation, that he should loom so high? Is

he a marvel of wisdom, virtue, and nobility, made by nature to wear the

purple, fashioned of porcelain clay, greater and better than all the

host to whom his word is the voice of fate? By no means; thousands of

his subjects tower far above him in virtue and ability, but,

puppet-like, the noblest and best of them must dance as he pulls the

strings, and hardly a man in Russia dares to say that his soul is his

own if the czar says otherwise.



Such a state of affairs is an anachronism in the nineteenth century, a

hideous relic of the barbarism and anarchy of mediaeval times. In

America, where every man is a czar, so far as the disposal of himself

is concerned, the enslavement of the Russians seems a frightful

disregard of the rights of man, the nation a giant Gulliver bound down

to the earth by chains of creed and custom, of bureaucracy and perverted

public opinion. Like Gulliver, it was bound when asleep, and it must

continue fettered while its intellect remains torpid. Some day it will

awake, stretch its mighty limbs, burst its feeble bonds, and hurl in

disarray to the earth the whole host of liliputian officials and

dignitaries who are strutting in the pride of ownership on its great

body, the czar tumbling first from his great estate.



This does not seem a proper beginning to a story from Russian history,

but, to quote from Shakespeare again, "Thereby hangs a tale." The

history of Russia has, in fact, been a strange one; it began as a

republic, it has ended as a despotism; and we cannot go on with our work

without attempting to show how this came about.



It was the Mongol invasion that enslaved Russia. Helped by the khans,

Moscow gradually rose to supremacy over all the other principalities,

trod them one by one under her feet, gained power by the aid of Tartar

swords and spears or through sheer dread of the Tartar name, and when

the Golden Horde was at length overthrown the Grand Prince took the

place of the Great Khan and ruled with the same absolute sway. It was

the absolutism of Asia imported into Europe. Step by step the princes of

Moscow had copied the system of the khan. This work was finished by Ivan

the Great, at once the deliverer and the enslaver of Russia, who freed

that country from the yoke of the khan, but laid upon it a heavier

burden of servility and shame.



Under the khan there had been insurrection. Under the czar there was

subjection. The latter state was worse than the former. The subjection

continues still, but the spirit of insurrection is again rising. The

time is coming in which the rule of that successor of the Tartar khan,

miscalled the czar, will end, and the people take into their own hands

the control of their bodies and souls.



There were republics in Russia even in Ivan's day, free cities which,

though governed by princes, maintained the republican institutions of

the past. Chief among these was Novgorod, that Novgorod the Great which

invited Rurik into Russia and under him became the germ of the vast

Russian empire. A free city then, a free city it continued. Rurik and

his descendants ruled by sufferance. Yaroslaf confirmed the free

institutions which Rurik had respected. For centuries this great

commercial city continued prosperous and free, becoming in time a member

of the powerful Hanseatic League. Only for the invasion of the Mongols,

Novgorod instead of Moscow might have become the prototype of modern

Russia, and a republic instead of a despotism have been established in

that mighty land. The sword of the Tartar cast into the scales

overweighted the balance. It gave Moscow the supremacy, and liberty

fell.



Ivan the Great, in his determined effort to subject all Russia to his

autocratic sway, saw before him three republican communities, the free

cities of Novgorod, Viatka, and Pskof, and took steps to sweep these

last remnants of ancient freedom from his path. Novgorod, as much the

most important of these, especially demands our attention. With its fall

Russian liberty fell to the earth.



At that time Novgorod was one of the richest and most powerful cities of

the earth. It was an ally rather than a subject of Moscow, and all the

north of Russia was under its sway and contributed to its wealth. But

luxury had sapped its strength, and it held its liberties more by

purchase than by courage. Some of these liberties had already been lost,

seized by the grand prince. The proud burghers chafed under this

invasion of their time-honored privileges, and in 1471, inspired by the

seeming timidity of Ivan, they determined to regain them.



It was a woman that brought about the revolt. Marfa, a rich and

influential widow of the city, had fallen in love with a Lithuanian,

and, inspired at once by the passions of love and ambition, sought to

attach her country to that of her lover. She opened her palace to the

citizens and lavished on them her treasures, seeking to inspire them

with her own views. Her efforts were successful: the officers of the

grand prince were driven out, and his domains seized; and when he

threatened reprisal they broke into open revolt, and bound themselves by

treaty to Casimir, prince of Lithuania.



But events were to prove that the turbulent citizens were no match for

the crafty Ivan, who moved slowly but ever steadily to his goal, and

made secure each footstep before taking a step in advance. His

insidious policy roused three separate hostilities against Novgorod. The

pride of the nobles was stirred up against its democracy; the greed of

the princes made them eager to seize its wealth; the fanatical people

were taught that this great city was an apostate to the faith.



These hostile forces proved too much for the city against which they

were directed. Novgorod was taken and plundered, though Ivan did not yet

deprive it of its liberties. He had powerful princes to deal with, and

did not dare to seize so rich a prey without letting them share the

spoil. But he ruined the city by devastation and plunder, deprived it of

its tributaries, the city and territory of Perm, and turned from

Novgorod to Moscow the rich commerce of this section. Taking advantage

of some doubtful words in the treaty of submission, he held himself to

be legislator and supreme judge of the captive city. Such was the first

result of the advice of an ambitious woman.



The next step of the autocrat added to his influence. Novgorod being

threatened with an attack from Livonia, he sent thither troops and

envoys to fight and negotiate in his name, thus taking from the city,

whose resources he had already drained, its old right of making peace

and war.



The ill feeling between the rich and the poor of Novgorod was fomented

by his agents; all complaints were required to be made to him; he still

further impoverished the rich by the presents and magnificent receptions

which his presence among them demanded, and dazzled the eyes of the

people by the Oriental state and splendor which had been adopted by the

court of Moscow, and which he displayed in their midst.



The nobles who had formerly been his enemies now became his victims. He

had induced the people to denounce them, and at once seized them and

sent them in chains to Moscow. The people, blinded by this seeming

attention to their complaints, remained heedless of the violation of the

ancient law of their republic, "that none of its citizens should ever be

tried or punished out of the limits of its own territory."



Thus tyranny made its slow way. The citizens, once governed and judged

by their own peers, now made their appeals to the grand prince and were

summoned to appear before his tribunal. "Never since Rurik," say the

annals, "had such an event happened; never had the grand princes of Kief

and Vladimir seen the Novgorodians come and submit to them as their

judges. Ivan alone could reduce Novgorod to that degree of humiliation."



This work was done with the deliberation of a settled policy. Ivan did

not molest Marfa, who had instigated the revolt; his sentences were just

and equitable; men were blinded by his seeming moderation; and for full

seven years he pursued his insidious way, gradually weaning the people

from their ancient customs, and taking advantage of every imprudence and

thoughtless concession on their part to ground on it a claim to

increased authority.



It was the glove of silk he had thus far extended to them. Within it lay

concealed the hand of iron. The grasp of the iron hand was made when,

during an audience, the envoy of the republic, through treason or

thoughtlessness, addressed him by the name of sovereign (Gosudar,

"liege lord," instead of Gospodin, "master," the usual title).



Ivan, taking advantage of this, at once claimed all the absolute rights

which custom had attached to that title. He demanded that the republic

should take an oath to him as its judge and legislator, receive his

boyars as their rulers, and yield to them the ancient palace of

Yaroslaf, the sacred temple of their liberties, in which for more than

five centuries their assemblies had been held.



This demand roused the Novgorodians to their danger. They saw how

blindly they had yielded to tyranny. A transport of indignation inspired

them. For the last time the great bell of liberty sent forth its peal of

alarm. Gathering tumultuously at the palace from which they were

threatened with expulsion, they vigorously resolved,--



"Ivan is in fact our lord, but he shall never be our sovereign; the

tribunal of his deputies may sit at Goroditch, but never at Novgorod:

Novgorod is, and always shall be, its own judge."



In their rage they murdered several of the nobles whom they suspected of

being friends of the tyrant. The envoy who had uttered the imprudent

word was torn to pieces by their furious hands. They ended by again

invoking the aid of Lithuania.



On hearing of this outbreak the despot feigned surprise. Groans broke

from his lips, as if he felt that he had been basely used. His

complaints were loud, and the calling in of a foreign power was brought

against Novgorod as a frightful aggravation of its crime. Under cover of

these groans and complaints an army was gathered to which all the

provinces of the empire were forced to send contingents.



These warlike preparations alarmed the citizens. All Russia seemed

arrayed against them, and they tremblingly asked for conditions of peace

in accordance with their ancient honor. "I will reign at Novgorod as I

do at Moscow," replied the imperious despot. "I must have domains on

your territory. You must give up your Posadnick, and the bell which

summons you to the national council." Yet this threat of enslavement was

craftily coupled with a promise to respect their liberty.



This declaration, the most terrible that free citizens could have heard,

threw them into a state of violent agitation. Now in defiant fury they

seized their arms, now in helpless despondency let them fall. For a

whole month their crafty adversary permitted them to exhibit their rage,

not caring to use the great army with which he had encircled the city

when assured that the terror of his presence would soon bring him

victory.



They yielded: they could do nothing but yield. No blood was shed. Ivan

had gained his end, and was not given to useless cruelty. Marfa and

seven of the principal citizens were sent prisoners to Moscow and their

property was confiscated. No others were molested. But on the 15th of

January, 1478, the national assemblies ceased, and the citizens took the

oath of subjection. The great republic, which had existed from

prehistoric times, was at an end, and despotism ruled supreme.



On the 18th the boyars of Novgorod entered the service of Ivan, and the

possessions of the clergy were added to the domain of the prince, giving

him as vassals three hundred thousand boyar-followers, on whom he

depended to hold Novgorod in a state of submission. A great part of the

territories belonging to the city became the victor's prize, and it is

said that, as a share of his spoil, he sent to Moscow three hundred

cart-loads of gold, silver, and precious stones, besides vast quantities

of furs, cloths, and other goods of value.



Pskov, another of the Russian republics, had been already subdued. In

1479, Viatka, a colony of Novgorod, was reduced to like slavery. The end

had come. Republicanism in Russia was extinguished, and gradually the

republican population was removed to the soil of Moscow and replaced by

Muscovites, born to the yoke.



The liberties of Novgorod were gone. It had been robbed of its wealth.

Its commerce remained, which in time would have restored its prosperity.

But this too Ivan destroyed, not intentionally, but effectually. A burst

of despotic anger completed the work of ruin. The tyrant, having been

insulted by a Hanseatic city, ordered all the merchants of the Hansa

then in Novgorod to be put in chains and their property confiscated. As

a result, that confidence under which alone commerce can flourish

vanished, the North sought new channels for its trade, and Novgorod the

Great, once peopled by four hundred thousand souls, declined until only

an insignificant borough marks the spot where once it stood.



It is an interesting fact that this final blow to Russian republicanism

was dealt in 1492, the very year in which Columbus discovered a new

world beyond the seas, within which the greatest republic the world has

ever known was destined to arise.



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