and, as Ivan's Ambassadors were to perceive, everything in Warsaw—dress, carriages, harness, arid so forth—rushed beforehand into the Russian fashion ('Collections of the Imperial Historical Society of Russia,' lxxi. 763, etc.).
In Lithuania opinion seemed more divided. The country gentlemen, who had only lately been initiated into the immunities, liberties, and privileges of the Polish system, and found them much to their liking, were still more alarmed at the idea of losing their benefits. But they had not shaken off the impression produced by the recent and easy capture of Polotsk, and between the two terrors—of having Ivan for their master or their adversary—the great nobles themselves, though they hated him, and reckoned on defeating his hopes, accepted the Muscovite candidate. Taking it all in all, Ivan had the advantage of numbers, and it must be admitted that in this particular crisis the balance of political wisdom and breadth of view was heaviest in the ranks of the small nobility, of which Voropaï had constituted himself spokesman. It had already resolutely undertaken, single-handed, a reform of the national institutions, and now, single-handed again, it had conceived the hope of insuring the success of this reform by the assistance of the dreaded but powerful monarch to whom it appealed, and of creating, under his ægis and on a Polish basis, a great Slavonic Empire, strong enough to fulfil a mission in history which neither Poland nor Russia could undertake alone.
The idea of this last union was not a new one. As early as in 1506, when, after the death of Alexander Jagellon, a shadowy election had taken place in Poland, Ivan's father, Vassili, had come forward. The son remembered this fact, and gave Voropaï a hearty reception. But why was there any talk of Feodor? That would only perpetuate the antagonism between the two countries! Lengthily, with many an argument and metaphor, the Tsar set forth his theory and pleaded his own cause. 'He had only two sons,' he said, 'and they were the two eyes in his head. Was he to be robbed of one? He had been given an evil reputation for severity in Poland and Lithuania. He did not propose to deny it. Severe he was, in good sooth, but to whom?' Voropaï had to listen to the detailed story of all the misdeeds of which the Tsar had reason to complain on the part of his boïars. Were the Poles likely to treat him and betray him in the same way? No, indeed! and he would treat them accordingly. The Tsar-King would respect their privileges and liberties, would even increase them. He knew how to treat good men well. 'Look,' he said to the envoy, 'to a good man I would give the jewelled collar about my neck and the gown on my back. …' And
