Two Dmitrys and a Marina

For lovers of Russian literature, Marina Mniszech (Mnishek as she is known in Russian) is more literary figment than historical figure.

Many of us imagine her as she is portrayed by Pushkin in a famous scene from his play, Boris Godunov. During a fountain-side rendezvous, False Dmitry (the impostor pretending to be the murdered son of Ivan IV), who has been wondering whether Marina truly loves him or is merely enamored of his future power, admits that he is not who he claims to be, thereby imperiling both his romantic and political prospects. But the Polish beauty is won over when she sees his true character, after he declares that he is done groveling before her and launches into a famous monologue, in which he confesses to being the adopted son of “Ivan’s ghost” rather than Ivan’s true life orphan.

What kind of a woman was Marina Mniszech? Is her reputation for being haughty, beautiful and power-hungry deserved? Probably. But we should not forget that she was born in 1588. That means she was only seventeen on the autumn day in 1605, when Afanasy Vlasyev, a Russian dyak (non-boyar government administrator) married her before the entire Polish court “on behalf of Tsar Dmitry,” who had by then already captured Moscow. Seventeen-year-olds may have been closer to adulthood in the early seventeenth century than they are today, but she was still very young and probably lacked sophistication when it came to politics and international relations.

Her marriage had, of course, been arranged by her father, Jerzy Mniszech, governor of Sandomir Province, who was primarily driven by a thirst for his own wealth and power and was merely using his daughter as a form of currency – a practice not at all unusual at the time.

Judging by contemporary reports, Marina was indeed an exceptional beauty. According to an account of the wedding cited by the respected historian Nikolai Kostomarov, “Marina was wondrously pretty and charming that evening, wearing a crown made of precious gems arranged in the form of flowers.” The people of Moscow and the Poles were equally taken with her “fine figure, lithe and graceful movements, and the luxuriant black hair that cascaded down her white and silver dress, which glimmered with gems and pearls.”

What happened next to this young beauty is quite a story. She was sent to faraway Muscovy, where everything must have seemed baffling and strange. Russian historians tend to emphasize how indignant Muscovites were at the appearance of “her Polish highness,” who introduced new customs and did not dress, behave, eat, or drink the right way. Few take the trouble to see things from Marina’s point of view. During her first days in Moscow, she was forced to make major concessions. Muscovites were outraged by the Latin sermon delivered by her priest in the Cathedral of the Dormition, but she was, after all, married in an Orthodox ceremony, which was utterly alien to her. People were shocked by the entertainment that False Dmitry arranged for her, but she was soon forced to change how she dressed and submit to Moscow’s strict code of behavior.

This strange existence lasted all of one week, at the end of which a group of conspirators headed by Vasily Shuisky killed the False Dmitry. Marina managed to evade the attackers by hiding under the skirts of one of her confidantes. Later, she and her father were sent home. Shuisky was crowned Tsar Vasily IV.

It would be fascinating to know just how the young Polish beauty felt about her Moscow experiences. Alas, we never will. There is a document titled “The Diary of Marina Mniszech,” but it is not really a diary and it was not written by Marina. It contains accounts of what took place in Moscow written, apparently, by a member of the Polish nobility who accompanied her. This is an incredibly valuable source of information about the Time of Troubles, but it offers no insight into the thoughts and feelings of the young tsaritsa.

We can try to guess what sort of a person Marina was based on subsequent events. While Jerzy Mniszech and his daughter were traveling toward the Polish border, half the Principality of Moscow rose up in rebellion against the new tsar, Vasily Shuisky. Nobody could believe that “Tsar Dmitry” had actually died. Marina herself never saw his dead body, so when the army of the Polish Hetman Sapega caught up with father and daughter with the news that Tsar Dmitry was actually alive and wanted his wife to join him (Marina’s father was intentionally traveling slowly, knowing that events could easily change radically), Marina was very happy to turn back. The fact that she reportedly laughed and sang along the way suggests that she was not terribly worried by the horrors unfolding in Moscow. Why? Was it because she was really in love with the dashing, strong, and intriguing False Dmitry, or because she was ready for any path that led to the throne? Surprising as it may sound, there is evidence in support of the former option.

While Marina was cheerfully traveling to rejoin her husband, Prince Mosalsky, a Russian nobleman who had joined the Polish entourage, rode up to her and said: “It would be fitting for you to be singing songs, Marina Yurevna, if you were about to find your husband in Tushino; unfortunately, by now it is a different Dmitry who is there, not the one you seek.”

This news turned Marina’s laughter and singing into tears and laments. Mosalsky was forced to flee the wrath of the Poles, and Hetman Sapega spent several days trying to convince Marina to act out a reunion between “loving spouses” with the new impostor. In the end, she agreed, probably feeling she had no choice. It appears that she was not so much power-hungry as overcome by events.

Marina Mniszech

Marina lived with False Dmitry II, the new pretender, as his wife. But within the Muscovite realm, a wide array of forces were vying for power, and when the boyars signed a treaty with the Polish king, under which they accepted his son Wladyslaw as their tsar, False Dmitry II was no longer needed. His camp at Tushino, outside Moscow, began to fall apart and all his supporters abandoned him. He himself fled to Kaluga while Marina, who was pregnant, fell into the hands of far-from-friendly Cossacks.

We now get another glimpse of Marina’s personality. Multiple sources state that, rather than submitting to her captors, Marina managed to run out onto the street bareheaded, yelling, weeping, and pleading for the people not to abandon their lawful tsaritsa.

Marina finally made her way to Kaluga to be with False Dmitry II, galloping there dressed as a hussar and accompanied by one serving maid and a handful of Cossacks – also testament to a strong personality.

This, alas, was not the end of her adventures. The second False Dmitry was soon killed, and Marina, in the final stages of pregnancy, fell back under Cossack control. There she was, the 22-year-old, wondrously beautiful, crowned tsaritsa, giving birth to a son, Ivan, who was proclaimed the lawful heir to “Tsar Dmitry.”

It is unclear what Marina’s options were at this point. Perhaps she could have contrived to steal away to the land of her birth, but, buffeted by the storm of events, she did not choose to retreat. Together with the Cossack ataman Zarutsky, she tried to attain power, but this proved to be her downfall. After Mikhail Romanov was elected tsar at the 1613 Zemsky Sobor (an assembly of boyars and other prominent members of Russian society), it was only a matter of time before Marina and Zarutsky were destroyed.

They were captured and imprisoned. Marina’s tiny son was publicly hanged to avoid any question of whether or not he had survived. Zarutsky was impaled on a stake. Marina was either drowned or smothered, or maybe, as the most common legend has it, imprisoned in Kolomna (where to this day tourists can visit “Marinka’s Tower”). As that version goes, she died “yearning for her freedom.”

For a little over ten years, Marina Mniszech was an actor on the historical stage, but how much she lived through in that time, what force of character she showed! Had everything turned out differently, she might have earned a place in history not as a scheming adventuress, but as an outstanding woman of her time, and maybe even an outstanding tsaritsa.

It was not to be.