The scene had taken place in the village of Ostrovka, close to the capital, and just at this crisis a messenger arrived bearing bad news: the great bell of the Kremlin had fallen down. It was a gloomy portent, the presage, according to the spirit of those days, of other and more terrible catastrophes. And this time, indeed, the omen was to come true, amidst events destined to bring fresh characters on the scene, and change the face of the lately-opened reign. Ivan forgot all about his victims. Calling for a horse, he galloped to the scene of the accident.
IV.—Sylvester and Adachev.
Once again, on June 21, fire devoured Moscow, and this time its ravages exceeded anything ever seen within the memory of man. The Kremlin itself suffered. The cupola of the Cathedral of the Assumption, the Tsar's palace and the Metropolitan's, the treasury, the arsenal, two monasteries, and several churches, with all the wealth within them, were consumed by the flames. The Metropolitan Macarius was nearly suffocated, tumbled down in his flight, and hurt himself severely. Seventeen hundred victims, men, women, and children, were burnt alive. Every shop in the mercantile quarter was destroyed. Ivan was left without a roof over his head. He took refuge in the village of Vorobiévo, on that 'mountain of the sparrows' whence Napoleon was to catch his first glimpse of the city which was to be the tomb of his glory, and there the Tsar held a council. His confessor, Feodor Barmine, talked about witchcraft, to which, according to him, the disaster was due. In this connection, indeed, there was a legend. The sorcerers were supposed to take human hearts, torn out of corpses, to dip them in a pail of water, and then kindle the fire by watering the streets with the contents of the pail. A few boïars backed the accusation, and the search for the culprits began. Swayed by a treacherous suggestion, the crowd gathered on a Sunday, some few days later, before the blackened ruins of the cathedral, mentioned names. Helen's regency had left some bitter grudges behind it. Undying hate pursued her mother and her brothers. Witnesses were found who had seen them drench the streets and walls with the maleficent liquid. The Tsar's uncle, Prince Michael Vassilévitch Glinski, was living with his mother on a distant property near Rjevo, but his brother George was close at hand. He sought refuge in the very church the firing of which was laid at his door. The mob pursued him inside it, dragged his corpse to the spot where condemned criminals were executed, hunted his servants. Three days later the murderers pre-
