But territorial advance did not end there. Towards the west, Toropets was secured, and the important area between the rivers Ugra and Desna as far as the Berezina; and towards the south-east, also at Lithuania’s expense, the towns of Briansk and Chernigov were taken. Muscovy’s power now extended to not far short of Kiev itself. More than this, by the time of his death in 1505, Ivan had increased his country’s military power, placed the state’s finances on a sounder footing, and laid the foundations of a system by which property and status depended on service to the Grand Prince. Inheritance was still to count, but it came to apply as much to obligations — particularly obligations to serve the Grand Prince — as to property and privilege.
These achievements may be enough to justify Ivan’s sobriquet ‘the Great’, but there was also another: it was he who made Muscovy a European power to be reckoned with. He established diplomatic relations with Ottoman Turkey as well as with Poland-Lithuania and the Tatars, and exchanged embassies with Denmark, Venice, Georgia, Hungary and the Holy Roman Emperor. Nor did Ivan behave like a respectful newcomer among Europe’s heads of states. When the Emperor, anxious to please him, offered him the title of king, Ivan summarily rejected it. He would not be patronized. He had a better estimation of his dignity than that.
Ivan, more than any other individual, was the architect of the Muscovite state, and he gave it the capability of becoming an empire. But there were costs. His rule was exacting and oppressive. He crushed Novgorod and its autonomous institutions; he carried out dispossessions on a large scale; and his reign has been described, with some justice, as one of ‘cultural depression and spiritual barrenness’. In all these respects Ivan III resembles Ivan the Terrible, Nicholas I, Stalin and all the other Russian tyrants. But is this fair? Were the Tudor rulers of England less tyrannical than he? Were their exactions less demanding? Did Catholics and humanists not suffer under them? Should not historical figures be judged in context, and according to the standards of their own times rather than of ours? 2
There is no doubt that Ivan’s reign saw a marked upward surge in Russia’s fortunes, and that he was in large measure responsible for it; but, like so many great historical figures, he enjoyed a good share of luck. The death of his first wife, Maria of Tver, in April 1467, is a case in point, for the sad event opened up an unexpected opportunity. In 1469 a Byzantine Greek called Iurii Trakhaniot arrived in Moscow bearing a letter from Bessarion, an eminent scholar from Constantinople who had taken refuge from the Turks in Rome. The letter proposed marriage between Ivan and Zoe Palaeologue, the daughter of the Despot
Yet there were dangers attached. The Palaeologues were virtual beggars. A kinsman of the girl was known to have been touting his titles round the courts of Europe for sale. Worse, Zoe’s Orthodox credentials were questionable. She was a ward of the Pope, Paul II. As for the intermediary, Bessarion, he had played a prominent part in the notorious Council of Ferrara/Florence, had subscribed to the union with Rome, which Muscovy had rejected, and now wore a cardinal’s hat. Clearly the Pope was offering Zoe as bait, hoping to bring the Russian ruler into communion with Rome. If it came to marriage, the Orthodox Church might withdraw its support and the Grand Prince could well be rendered powerless in the face of a popular rebellion. Nevertheless, Ivan responded positively to the overture. Evidently he and his closest advisers thought they could take the bait and avoid the trap. Negotiations began. They were to last the better part of three years.
