Vasili, who succeeded Ivan III. in 1505, continued his work on the same lines of absorption and consolidation by unmerciful means.  Pskof,—­the sister republic to Novgorod the Great,—­which had guarded its liberties with the same passionate devotion, was obliged to submit.  The bell which had always summoned their Vetche, and which symbolized their liberty, was carried away.  Their lament is as famous as that for the Moorish city of Alhama, when taken by Ferdinand of Aragon.  The poetic annalist says:  “Alas! glorious city of Pskof—­why this weeping and lamentation?” Pskof replies:  “How can I but weep and lament?  An eagle with claws like a lion has swooped down upon me.  He has captured my beauty, my riches, my children.  Our land is a desert! our city ruined.  Our brothers have been carried away to a place where our fathers never dwelt—­nor our grandfathers—­nor our great-grandfathers!” In the whole tragic story of Russia nothing is more pathetic and picturesque than the destruction of the two republics—­Novgorod and Pskof.

By 1523 the last state had yielded, and the Muscovite absorption was complete.  There was but one Russia; and the head of the consolidated empire called himself not “Grand Prince of all the Russias,” but Tsar.  When it is remembered that Tsar is only the Slavonic form for Caesar, it will be seen that the dream of the Varangian Princes had been in an unexpected way realized.  The Tsar of Russia was the successor of the Caesars in the East.

Vasili’s method of choosing a wife was like that of Ahasuerus.  Fifteen hundred of the most beautiful maidens of noble birth were assembled at Moscow.  After careful scrutiny the number was reduced to ten, then to five—­from these the final choice was made.  His wife’s relations formed the court of Vasili, became his companions and advisers, boyars vying with each other for the privilege of waiting upon his table or assisting at his toilet.  But the office of adviser was a difficult one.  To one great lord who in his inexperience ventured to offer counsel, as in the olden time of the Drujina, he said sharply:  “Be silent, rustic.”  While still another, more indiscreet, who had ventured to complain that they were not consulted, was ordered to his bedchamber, and there had his head cut off.

The court grew in barbaric and in Greek splendor.  As the Tsar sat upon the throne supported by mechanical lions which roared at intervals, he was guarded by young nobles with high caps of white fur, wearing long caftans of white satin and armed with silver hatchets.  Greek scholarship was also there.  A learned monk and friend of Savonarola was translating Greek books and arranging for him the priceless volumes in his library.  Vasili himself was now in correspondence with Pope Leo X., who was using all his arts to induce him to make friends with Catholic Poland and join in the most important of all wars—­a war upon Constantinople, of which he, Vasili, the spiritual and temporal heir to the Eastern Empire, was the natural protector.