CHAPTER X
THE PHANTOM TZAR
In all historical ages men have been found ready to believe in the pretensions of the personators who seem to spring up as the natural aftermath of a vanished dynasty or a quenched idol; pre-eminently prone to be deluded by such deceptions were the Russians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Inured by the exactions of their religion to an unquestioning faith in the supernatural, incapable from their teaching, as much as from their want of teaching, of forming a critical opinion upon a matter which admitted of doubt, and isolated from their own communities and from the sources of reliable information by vast distances and bad roads, they afforded a fit germinating bed for rumours and frauds of the flimsiest nature. Without proof many of them had accepted the theory that Boris Godounov was responsible for the murder of Dimitri Ivanovitch; equally without proof they were ready to credit the reports which began to fly about the country during the winter of 1603-1604 to the effect that the long-mourned Tzarevitch was alive and gathering an army beyond the Lit’uanian border. The explanation which accompanied this story was that Dimitri had been smuggled away from his would-be assassins at Ouglitch and another child had been killed in his stead. The fact that his mother and nurse had shrieked and swooned over his corpse, and that his relatives and the townsfolk who knew him well had had ample opportunity to detect any substitution while the body lay in state awaiting Shouyskie’s inquest, does not seem to have been taken into consideration. It was evident, from the accumulating reports that kept pouring in, that there was someone in Lit’uania, a tangible being, who claimed to be the veritable Dimitri, and it was also evident that the King of Poland and numbers of the Russ-Lit’uanian princes believed in his identity—or professed to.
The generally accepted theory among Russian historians as to the true personality of this pretended Ivanovitch is that he was one Grigorie Otrepiev, an enterprising monk, who had thrown off his frock to live a life of liberty among the western Kozaks. Amid the vicissitudes of a self-seeking career, both before and after quitting the cloister, the idea of impersonating the dead Tzarevitch seems to have cropped up from time to time, and finally, having entered the service of a Lit’uanian boyarin, the adventurer, on the pretence of mortal sickness, announced to a priest his identity with Dimitri. The chief evidence in support of his story was the discovery of a jewelled cross on his person, a clue which might have convicted him of sacrilegious pilfering as convincingly as of royal parentage. His “discoverers,” however, needed little convincing; the King of Poland, to whom he was exhibited after a somewhat rapid recovery, welcomed him as a useful weapon of offence against Boris; the Jesuits saw in him an instrument for the advancement of their Church; and the banished and disgraced Russians with whom he came in contact hailed him as the possible means of restoring them to the state from which they had fallen. Kostomarov, in an exhaustive monograph on the subject, throws doubt on the identity of the false Dimitri with the somewhat nebulous monk Otrepiev, and inclines to the belief that the pretender, whoever he was, was himself convinced of his veritable tzarskie descent.[183]
Whatever the origin and past career of this apparition, he succeeded in the first duty of an impostor, which is to impose. The personal resemblance which he bore to the family to which he claimed to belong does not appear to have been very striking; the medals and coins afterwards struck for him give his presentment as that of a coarse-featured thick-set man, with a heavy lower-jaw, recalling a Habsburg rather than a Rurikovitch type.[184] But with a widely scattered population like that of Russia, rumour, assertion, and hearsay information weighed more than actual facts; the bulk of the people may not have been convinced, but many of them were ready to give the Pretender the benefit of the doubt. Besides the unofficial but more or less open support which he received from the Poles, the restless or uneasy spirits on the Russian side of the border hastened to join his standard. The Don Kozaks, impatient of the control of Boris’s strong hand, sped gleefully to join a leader in whose ranks were already gathered numbers of their fellow-freebooters from the Dniepr. The Tzar displayed a calmness which perhaps he did not feel, and contented himself at first with an expostulatory message to the King of Poland, and an address, signed by the Patriarch and all the bishops, to their fellow-clergy in Lit’uania, counselling them to withhold their allegiance from the unfrocked monk who was masquerading as a Tzarevitch. While a cross-current of proclamations was being directed from Moskva into Lit’uania and from the grand duchy into White Russia, the adventurer was preparing for bolder measures. Though Sigismund would not openly avow him, his cause had been warmly taken up by Urii Mnishek, Palatine of Sendomir, who supported him with men and money, and promised him, moreover, the hand of his daughter Marina. Boris’s attitude of scornful indifference had left the border province of Sieverski more or less open to an invasion, and in October the “Ljhedimitri” (false-Dimitri) crossed with his little army into Moskovite territory. 1604His audacity was rewarded with a large measure of success. The frontier town of Moravsk opened its gates to the Pretender, and the ancient city of Tchernigov followed the example. Novgorod Sieverski, held for Boris by Petr Basmanov (son of that angel-faced Thedor who came to such a miserable end in the days of Ivan), administered a timely check to the invader’s progress, but Poutivl and other neighbouring towns went over to the impostor’s cause. The Tzar set to work in earnest to stamp out the treason which had gained such an advantageous start, but the armed men who had sprung up at his summons to combat the Tartar Khan did not gather in such numbers to march against the soi-disant Tzarevitch. Nor was the sovereign sure of the fidelity either of the troops raised or of the voevodas who were to command them. Gladly would he have seen Basmanov, the man of his heart, who had already stood “among innumerable false, unmoved,” at the head of the tzarskie forces, but the exigencies of his statecraft required that he should employ the old family chiefs on this critical service. 1604-5Accordingly kniaz Mstislavskie and kniaz Vasili Shouyskie were entrusted with the direction of a winter campaign in the Sieverski Oukrain, which resulted in the Ljhedimitri being driven out of the open field and obliged to take refuge in Poutivl. Deserted by the Palatine of Sendomir and most of the Poles, and unable to count even on the continued adherence of the Kozaks, the bold disputer of the throne of Moskva was indeed in desperate circumstances. But the very despair which animated his followers made them formidable opponents to the Tzar’s troops, whose leaders were either incapable of following up their success or unwilling to do so. Instead of making a determined attack on Poutivl and securing the impostor’s person, they centred their efforts on the siege of Kromi, a gorodok held by a small Kozak garrison. The satisfaction felt at Moskva at the first successes of the tzarskie arms gradually evaporated as the weeks dragged on without result, and men began to speak significantly of the marvellous escapes and invincible tenacity of the man who claimed to be Dimitri. That the pretender had many adherents in the capital itself was becoming evident, and Boris is credited by the chroniclers with having cut off the tongues of some who were indiscreet enough to voice their sentiments; a proceeding which, though out of keeping with the Tzar’s general methods, was too thoroughly akin to Moskovite traditions to be unhesitatingly set down as fable. Boris was, however, wise enough to see that he must stand or fall by Russian disposition alone, and the loyal offer of assistance made him by the Duke of Sudermanland, now King of Sweden, was declined. In possession of the throne and the immense treasure appertaining thereto, enjoying the support of the Hierarchy, feared, if not loved, by the boyarins and voevodas, and held in esteem by the Courts of Austria, England, and Sweden, the Godounov Tzar might well have stood his ground against the doubtful rival whom he had hemmed into a corner of the Sieverski province. Every year that he reigned made people more accustomed to the new dynasty, made them look more naturally to his son Thedor as their future sovereign. If the Ljhedimitri had secret well-wishers at the Court, if there were within the Kreml’s precincts men who fancied Boris guilty of reaching the throne by a hidden crime, it was by the same means that they must vanquish him. That such a design existed would not be much to say; that it was ever put into practice there is no proof. History merely records that the Tzar, after transacting business all the morning, dined in the “gilded room” in his palace, and was suddenly stricken with a mysterious malady, of which he died two hours later (13th April 1605). So, working and ruling to the last, passed away the great boyarin, who, with all his faults, gave Russia one of the noblest of her Tzars. His great crime in the eyes of the people who had chosen him to reign over them was that he did not belong to the sacred House of Rurikovitch, but for all his Tartar extraction he was more western in his ideas than any of the sovereigns of Moskovy who had gone before him, and the fifteen-year-old son whom he had educated to succeed him gave promise of being an enlightened and gracious ruler. Since the vaunted Dimitri Donskoi, he was the first Gosoudar who had put himself at the head of an army to meet a Tartar invasion, and Russia was less troubled by Krim inroads during his reign than she had been since the alliance of Ivan III. with Mengli-Girei.
As the sorrowing Patriarch escorted his dead friend across the Kreml square, awake with the young pulse-life of an April day, into the chill shadows of the beautiful Cathedral of the Archangel, he might know that he was burying more than the corpse of a monarch. With Boris had gone the peace of an empire.
In all the wide dominions of the gosoudarstvo three centres of interest stood out with a marked prominence: the capital, the camp before Kromi, and the phantom Court at Poutivl. At Moskva, where the oath of allegiance to Thedor Borisovitch was quietly taken, all the symptoms of a minority or regency reasserted themselves. A Douma, which included the old names and in one case a former member, was beckoned into existence. Bogdan Bielskie, the twice-banished, recurred again in the state council, where he should have been able to give valuable information as to the outlying parts of the tzarstvo. Mstislavskie and Vasili and Dimitri Shouyskie were summoned from their commands at Kromi, less perhaps on account of any counsel they might impart to the Tzaritza and her son, than because their withdrawal smoothed the way for Basmanov to take over the command of the army. The latter brought down to the camp the authentic news of the death of Boris, and exacted from the troops an oath of allegiance to the new sovereign. The court at Moskva felt relieved when the voevoda whom Boris had loved, and who had given proof both of his fidelity and ability in the defence of Novgorod-Sieverski, went down to take command of the army of the Oukrain, and they expected to hear of some decisive blow struck at the impostor, some victory which should open the new reign with brilliancy. Instead of which they learned, from the mouths of two fugitive voevodas, that Basmanov, in conjunction with the princes Golitzuin and Saltuikov, had proclaimed the Ljhedimitri Tzar of Moskovy. How far this was a contemplated move, how far it was a sudden decision, born of a discovery of widespread defection among the troops, it is impossible to say. The effect was enormous, and revolutionised the whole struggle. The long besieged Kozak troop in Kromi found themselves suddenly hailed as allies by the men who had for months been working to encompass their destruction, and the bold adventurer of Poutivl was able to come out of his retreat, and put himself at the head of the army that was to conduct him in triumph to Moskva. The news of these events had stirred all classes in the white-built city; the people left their occupations to gather in agitated crowds on the great square between the Kitai-gorod and the Kreml, and everywhere was heard the name Dimitri. The man who wore that name was marching with the tzarskie army, led by the ablest voevodas of the state, under the banner of the two-headed eagle and St. George the Conqueror. His proclamations were daily smuggled into the city and daily the popular voice turned in his favour. The strielitz and body-guard were becoming less and less in evidence around the Kreml, the members of the Douma were coldly received, the Patriarch dared not show himself, even in the sacred vestments of his office, and could only shed tears of bitter mortification in the shelter of his palace. With the first day of June came the forerunners of the claimant Tzar to the Krasno selo (red, or beautiful village), where dwelt the rich merchants and tradesmen, a class which had never been well affected towards the Godounov interest; the Pretender was enthusiastically proclaimed, and his adherents streamed into unguarded Moskva, shouting the magic name of Dimitri Ivanovitch. The multitude of the city rose in response to the cry, and clamouring crowds, giving vent to their restrained feelings, burst armed and angry and thousand-throated into the undefended Kreml. Boris had asked his subjects to bring him the Ljhedimitri alive or dead. They were bringing him in alive.
The first acts of the aroused Moskvitchi were comparatively moderate. The Tzaritza-mother, the young Thedor, and his sister were removed from the palace and held prisoners in the private mansion of the Godounovs, and a clean sweep was made of the relatives and adherents of the fallen House, who were imprisoned or carried off to distant parts of the gosoudarstvo. For the rest, the people celebrated the upheaval by getting universally intoxicated, and to the wild fury of the day succeeded a night of stupefied repose. The revolution, however, was yet to claim its victims; while the new sovereign was still halting at Toula his enemies were forcibly removed from his path. The Patriarch was dragged from before the altar of the Cathedral of the Assumption and dispoiled of his robes and office, and a few days later a report was circulated that Thedor and his mother had poisoned themselves. Their bodies, exposed to the public view, bore traces of violence, and it was said that they had been strangled by some strielitz at the command of the voevoda Golitzuin.[185] What hand, if any, the Pretender had in the matter there is nothing to show. Thus ended a dynasty which eight weeks previously had seemed in assured possession of the throne. On the 20th of June, amid the resounding of myriad bells and the hoarse shouting of the people who lined streets, and roofs, and campaniles, the Phantom rode into the city of his endeavours, with a crashing of trumpets and kettle-drums, with a glittering retinue of Polish cavalry, German guards, Kozaks and strielitz. The long lost Dimitri, as his subjects fondly imagined him, made solemn obeisance at the tomb where the dread Ivan slept, and incidentally ordered the remains of the usurper Boris to be removed to a less hallowed resting-place. A cross-current of coffins and persons journeyed to and from the centre-point of Moskovite life; Nagois and Romanovs, living and defunct, came in from their monasteries or lonely graves to dwell or decompose in the favoured places of the Kreml, while the Godounov connections and Vremenszhiki went, literally, out into the cold; that is to say, to Perm and Sibiria. Vasili Shouyskie, the man who had conducted the inquest on the murdered Tzarevitch, had the indiscretion to recall this circumstance to the minds of a people gone wild with enthusiasm. His reminiscences were not interesting to the Tzar, who had him promptly arrested. He was interrogated, probably with the accompaniment of torture, and condemned, by a council of boyarins and citizens, to death. While his head was actually awaiting the axe-stroke a dramatically timed reprieve stopped the execution of the sentence, which was commuted to one of banishment. The people, with whom the Shouyskie family were more or less popular, might appreciate the sovereign’s clemency, but it did not strengthen their conviction that he was the son of the terrible Ivan. A new Patriarch was elected, Ignacie, a Greek, once Archbishop of Cyprus, from which see he had been driven by the Turks, since Archbishop of Riazan; he had been one of the first of the Vladuikas to recognise the adventurer as Tzar. There remained one more step towards establishing his identity, which, though of slight historical value, it was important that the Pretender should take. Mariya Nagoi, seventh wife of Ivan IV., was still living, and her testimony was naturally called for as to the authenticity of the person who posed as her son. In the middle of July the ex-Tzaritza was summoned from the convent that had been her prison for so many years, and was met at Tayninsk, a village near Moskva, by the man who claimed her as mother; whom, after a private interview, she publicly acknowledged as the true Dimitri. After thirty years of banishment and disgrace, half of which had been spent in cloistered seclusion, the relict might well have considered that it was a wise mother that knew her own child in the person of a reigning and popular sovereign. The very fact that his imposture had overturned her hated enemies, the Godounovs, would have gone far to soothe any possible scruples. It is significant that after her testimony the “Otrepiev” theory, first put forward by the Patriarch in the reign of Boris, began to gain ground in the capital. The people who had feared to oppose a forlorn and desperate pretender, from an idea that he might be the genuine heir of the Rurikovitches, were not comfortable at seeing him on the sacred throne of Monomachus, from a suspicion that he might not be.
Firmly established at the Kreml, after a campaign of almost unexampled good fortune, the new Sovereign commenced to display characteristics disconcerting alike to his subjects and to future students of his personality. His idiosyncrasies were not those of the House whose scion he professed to be, but neither were they those of a partially-educated adventurer. The boyarins of the leading families of Moskva, encased in the complacent conceit of ignorance, were aghast at being told by this newly-appeared Gosoudar that their great need was schooling. Boris had talked of colleges as a desirability; Dimitri spoke of them as urgent necessities. For their part the boyarins were of opinion that the Tzar himself had much to learn in the way of conforming with the manners and customs of the Moskovites. His behaviour was a growing source of scandal to his Orthodox subjects; his hair was not dressed in the Russian fashion; he never slept after dinner; he sat down to dine to the sound of music instead of prayer; and he ate veal. He drilled his soldiers himself—a thing which no Moskovite sovereign had ever done—and he slew bears with his own hand instead of seeing them killed from a safe distance. The precedent of David, King of Israel, might have been quoted in extenuation of this unbecoming hardihood, but nothing could excuse the erection of a statue of Cerberus in front of the Tzar’s pleasure-house in the Kreml, a locality hitherto graced only with the representations of Bogoroditzas, or at most a saint-mastered dragon. The clergy were offended by the scant consideration with which they were treated, by the toleration shown to Catholics and Lutherans, and above all by a disposition which Dimitri showed to divert some of the hoarded wealth of the monasteries to the public treasury. The strielitz were piqued by the open acknowledgment which the Tzar made of the superior merits of the foreign soldiery, the boyarins resented the subordinate part they were compelled to play at the Court of this man of new and unpalatable ideas. All this gives a glimpse of a strong personality, an enlightened mind, healthily contemptuous of the foibles and superstitions with which it came in contact, and a vigorous faculty for reform and organisation. A rare character in the long list of Moskovite sovereigns. Such a one recurs some ninety years later and creates a new Russia. The Ljhedimitri, himself a man of straw, appears to have tried to cram into a few months the patient efforts of a lifetime. Probably the fact was that the extraordinary facility with which his enterprise had been carried to a triumphant conclusion gave him a false idea of his own powers and of the dispositions of the Russians. In one respect only do his transactions approach, at one and the same time, to the childish arrogance of the legitimate Moskovite Sovereigns and the petulant vanity which might be expected of a mushroom monarch; not only did he demand from the Pope and the King of Poland the acknowledgment of the old disputed title of Tzar, but he further stipulated for the style of Cæsar (Kesar), an innovation of his own devising. It is possible that this solemn trifle, which threatened to interrupt his good understanding with Rome and the Holy See, was really introduced for that purpose, in order to get rid of allies who were likely, now that he had attained his ambitious object, to become inconvenient. That he had, from conviction or policy, privately entered the Catholic Church during the days of his pretendership seems fairly evident; that it was not expedient to carry the matter farther will be readily comprehended. The Jesuit Father, Pierling, in an historical disquisition on the subject, combats the assertion of the Russian writers that the Ljhedimitri was “invented” or first brought forward by the Society of Jesus, the Nuncio in Poland, or any agent of the Pope.[186] Certainly there is no evidence on which to rest such a charge, which probably had its origin in inter-Christian jealousy. The fairest and most reasonable conclusion is that the Jesuits, Ragoni, and the Holy See, allowed themselves to be somewhat easily persuaded of the legitimacy of the claims of a pretender who might render splendid services to their Church. Rome had ever been dazzled with the hope of bringing the Russian Communion into her maternal embrace, and the prospect was the more alluring now that her spiritual dominion had been shorn and abbreviated by the Protestant heresy in the north of Europe, and by the Mohametan encroachments in the south-east. At the same time it should be borne in mind that the evidence on which the Catholics and Poles grounded their ostensible faith in the Ljhedimitri was substantially the same as that which imposed upon the whole of Russia. The zeal of a convert—and a pensioner—showed a considerable abatement when the adventurer was safely transformed into Tzar, and Dimitri evinced no disinclination to continuing bowing down in the house of Rimmon for the rest of his life. The Poles who still hung about his person were permitted to worship freely after their own fashion, and to penetrate into the sacred places of Moskovite Orthodoxy; but when sounded on the subject of establishing the Latin faith the Tzar talked evasively of educating his subjects and of initiating a war against the Sultan, objects nearer his heart than a revolution of dogmas. If a contemptuous clemency could have inspired the Moskvitchi with affection for a veal-eating sovereign, the False Dimitri would not have lacked popularity. Vasili Shouyskie and his two brothers were recalled from their disgrace and banishment, and the former was admitted into the Council of the Tzar. The axe and the gibbet had a long rest, and the monarch hunted bears instead of boyarins. Dimitri might have strengthened his position and gained time to live down the prejudices of his subjects by effecting a prudent marriage; by allying himself with the Romanov or even the Shouyskie family he would have created a party for himself among the nobles and have secured an incontestable link with the line of Rurik, either by remote descent or recent connection. For some reason of his own he was bent on fulfilling his betrothal vow to Marina Mnishek, and such was his impatience to see his bride at Moskva, sharing his throne, that the Palatine, her father, was able to exact considerable sums of money and concessions on the question of the future Tzaritza’s religious liberty (she was a Catholic), before escorting her to her expectant husband. May 1606The arrival at the capital of the Polish maiden, attended by her father and a following of some 2000 persons, together with an embassy from King Sigismund, did not inspire the citizens with any greater affection for their monarch, already tainted in their eyes with partiality for foreign customs and alien faiths. The bride made her state entry in a carriage decorated with silver eagles and drawn by ten pied horses. The tzarskie troops, in red coats with white cross-belts, were drawn up to receive her; cannon, bells, drums and trumpets, sounded a welcome; only the people kept an ominous silence. It was noted with disapproval that as she entered the Kreml through the Saviour Gate, a portal usually crossed with deep obeisance, the Polish band crashed out their national air, “For ever in weal as in woe.” The wedding and coronation festivities were carried on with a lavish display and open-handed conviviality seldom seen before in Moskva, but they were not preceded by the elaborate religious ceremonials by which the Grand Princes of yore had been wont to “purify” any consort they took from un-Orthodox lands. The woman who now shared the throne of Monomachus was a Pole and a Latin; as for the Tzar, no one knew what or who he was—except perhaps Mariya Nogai. The popular discontent had found a rallying-point in the Shouyskie zamok; ’Dimitri had pardoned Vasili Shouyskie, the latter had never forgiven ’Dimitri. Before the arrival of the bridal foreigners the boyarin had set in movement the conspiracy which was intended to hurl the impostor from his mis-gotten throne. The plot was a wide-reaching one and could scarcely be kept from the Tzar’s knowledge, but the newly-wedded monarch, strong in contemptuous security and engrossed in feasting and music, paid scant notice to the warnings which he received from spies or the croaking of his guests as to the temper of the people. The 18th of May he had fixed for a sham battle around a specially constructed wooden fortress; in the early hours of the 17th his subjects gave him a display of a less make-believe nature. Besides the accumulated dislike for the Tzar and all his ways, the Poles who had flocked in such numbers to the marriage festival of Marina Mnishek gave bitter offence to the Moskvitchi by their haughty and irreverent bearing. It was the old history of Kiev repeating itself. The Russians chafed to see the Kreml of their cherished capital, the Holy of Holies of the Moskovite nation, overrun by swaggering Poles and lawless Kozaks, and the hour of vengeance was eagerly awaited by all classes. On the night of the 16th the strangers and the Tzar’s household, weary with wine and revelry, sought unsuspectingly their accustomed couches; otherwise “no one slept that night in Moskva.” As the sun’s first rays touched on the gilded cupolas an alarm bell clanged out from a church; another and another took up the signal, till all over the watching city the warnings resounded. The noise penetrated into the Kreml and roused the Tzar from his bed; the body-guard hazarded the explanation that a fire had broken out, and the Ljhedimitri returned to his chamber. But soon above the clanging was heard the angry yelling of a blood-seeking multitude, and Basmanov, who since his celebrated desertion of the Godounovs had remained true to his adopted master, burst in upon the startled Tzar and warned him to fly. The voevoda himself faced the clamouring crowd on the palace staircase and sank beneath a shower of murderous blows. The Ljhedimitri, hunted through his apartments, jumped or was thrown from an upper window and lay broken and senseless in a courtyard. His bleeding corpse, seized by some strielitz, was borne into a chamber where his principal boyarin enemies gathered round; for a few short moments he returned to a consciousness of agony from broken limbs, saw pitiless scowling faces around him, heard taunts and abuse from angry throats; then bullets and sword-thrusts closed his last audience. His body was dragged with ropes out through the Saviour Gate, to the striking of the same bells that had welcomed his state entry eleven months ago, and haled to the convent of the Ascension, where dwelt the pseudo-mother Mariya. The corpse might well have been beyond recognition, but to the insistence of the boyarins the old Tzaritza declared that the Ljhedimitri was not her son—a recantation as worthy of belief as the former avowal, and nothing more. The carrion that yesterday had been Tzar of all the Russias was dragged back to the Red Place, where, naked and with a ribald mask on its face, it was exposed for three days. At its broken feet lay the corpse of the voevoda who had been faithful to the death. “They loved each other in life; let them be together now.” So passed the Phantom Tzar from the throne he had so strangely haunted; phantom still, even when his dishonoured body had been flung into an unhallowed grave beyond the city walls, in “the house of the wretched,” a waste-land where outcasts were buried. Here, it was rumoured, mysterious fires were seen at night. The boyarins wished to be troubled with no further resurrections; the corpse was dug up and burned, and the ashes, mingled with gunpowder, blown to the winds from a cannon.[187] But not thus even could they get rid of the spirit of the impostor whom they had crowned and anointed. Already, before his downfall, new spectres had started up in various quarters, following on the same lines. From Poland had come a fable that Boris had deluded the Moskvitchi with a sham death and interment and had fled to England disguised as a merchant. A more substantial fraud was that of a false Petr, a supposed son of Thedor Ivanovitch, who was actually carrying on a war of petty depredation at the head of some Volga Kozaks. With a people so easily deluded the ghost of the “child of Ouglitch” would not be easily laid.
Kostomarov’s question, “Who was the first false Dimitri?” is one of those problems of history that seem to become more tangled and unsolvable the more light is brought to bear on them. A careful study of the circumstances and nature of his career, while leading to a strong conviction that he was not Dimitri Ivanovitch, equally disturbs the theory that he was Grigorie Otrepiev. The man who showed himself alike indifferent to the Greek and Latin cults, who would not cross himself before the adored ikons—the real Dimitri would have prostrated himself before them, if heredity and early education go for anything—who, moreover, was earnestly concerned for the education and welfare of his people; who strove by personal effort to raise the fighting value of the deplorably slack Moskovite army, and who restored the old boast of Monomachus, never to leave to subordinates what might be done by himself, above the effete Byzantine-borrowed etiquette of the later Russian Gosoudars; who, in the midst of feasting and rejoicing was steadily preparing for an attack on the Sultan, and who treated his private enemies with clemency and even distinction; the man who displayed all these qualities in the course of a few months was assuredly not a Rurikovitch, nor was he an adventurer who had received his education only in a Moskovite monastery, who had seen life only in a Kozak camp. That he was really an instrument in the hands of the Jesuits, nursed and educated for the purpose which he was afterwards called upon to fulfil, necessitates not only a much greater intimacy with Russian affairs than that body are known to have possessed, but also a foreknowledge on their part of the course those affairs were likely to take under the Godounov dynasty. Such pretenders are not made in a day. Each supposition takes the inquiry no farther than the starting-point—who was the first false Dimitri? And here it must be left. Russian historians of the Orthodox Faith at least are able to say with absolute conviction that the Tzar of 1605-6 was not the real Dimitri, for the latter was beatified by the Church, and many miracles were performed at his reputed tomb. If the supposed impostor were proved to be identical with the veritable Ivanovitch, a new and embarrassing dilemma would arise. The history of the career of the Ljhedimitri is instructive as to the slender evidence on which whole peoples will base their implicit belief in a resuscitation, or even in a resurrection. Such beliefs have lived again and again in human history; some are living yet. Ljhedimitries, false Pucelles, Perkin Warbecks, missing Archdukes, and others that need not be mentioned, have their perennial Easter in the credulity of mankind.