Filaret Rises

Early in the summer of 1619, Theophanes II of Jerusalem ordained as Moscow Patriarch a man who had, in practical terms, already held that position for more than ten years: Filaret. This unusual circumstance is just one of the many details of this exceptional man’s biography that give his life a truth-can-be-stranger-than-fiction quality.

Long before Filaret became head of the church – and de facto head of state – he was the prominent boyar Fyodor Nikitich Romanov, nephew of Ivan the Terrible’s first wife, Anastasia, which made him first cousin of the Rurik Dynasty’s last tsar, Fyodor, son of Ivan IV (the Terrible) and Anastasia. When that dynasty was cut short by Fyodor Ivanovich’s death, the powerful Romanov clan viewed Fyodor Nikitich as having the best claim to the throne. In the end, however, it was Boris Godunov who became tsar, at least in part due to his being related to the late tsar by marriage (Tsar Fyodor was married to Boris’s sister).

What bore more weight in matters of succession: ties of blood or marriage? Rus had no precedent to guide it. But Godunov had one important advantage: throughout Fyodor Ivanovich’s rule, he had wielded the levers of power on behalf of the weak and sickly tsar, and he had wielded them forcefully and intelligently. Pushkin’s renowned play Boris Godunov planted in the imagination of generations of readers the idea that Godunov was chosen to rule as the result of some Machiavellian manipulations, and that he would resort to anything for the sake of power, even kill a child.

In Russia, there’s no arguing with Pushkin: if he said it, it must be true, although many historians have their doubts. Furthermore, it only makes sense that the Zemsky Sobor, the assembly that convened after Tsar Fyodor’s death, would choose someone with a record of wise and successful governance as their new sovereign.

However, the Romanovs did not see it that way. We do not know what schemes they were hatching, if any, but there can be no doubt that they were not pleased with the choice. Plots or no plots, in 1600, two years into Godunov’s rule, the new tsar took a step intended to defang the competition: he arrested all members of the Romanov family and sent them into exile or prison. The clan’s senior member, Fyodor Nikitich, was forced to take monastic orders to ensure that he would not be able to pursue the throne. And so, Fyodor became Filaret.

Imagine what a painful blow that must have been for him, a wealthy and respected boyar, an esteemed and intelligent man, a dandy, famous throughout Moscow for his stylish attire, now forced to submit to monastic discipline. Boris received reports about Filaret’s suffering in the Siya Monastery, about his anguish at not knowing the fate of his wife and children. In fact, these plaints were probably a diversionary tactic, since Filaret knew perfectly well what was happening with his wife. In any event, many years later, after his son became tsar, he rewarded one Father Yermolai and some peasants living near the monastery for serving as couriers, ferrying letters between him and his wife.

As the years passed, Filaret grew impatient with his confinement and began to think back on his happy life in Moscow. He began to quarrel with the other monks, threatened to beat them, and promised that his life would soon change.

Indeed it did, as soon as False Dmitry – pretender to the throne Grigory Otrepyev – took power. Historians have long struggled to discover the connection between False Dmitry and the Romanovs. We know that in his youth Grigory Otrepyev had worked for Fyodor Romanov. Could it be that Otrepyev’s entire scheme to snatch power by masquerading as Ivan the Terrible’s murdered son was hatched in collusion with Fyodor? Or was it just that the young man had spent his early years overhearing assertions that Godunov was an illegitimate ruler, and that he had probably killed Tsarevich Dmitry to gain the throne? Could he, all on his own, have seen an opportunity in this line of anti-Godunov conspiracy theorizing? Clearly, Otrepyev was no ordinary servant. There is evidence that he was performing some important commissions for the Romanovs. As the great historian Vasily Klyuchevsky put it, “the pretender was merely baked in a Polish oven, but he was leavened in Moscow.” Where in Moscow? One can’t help wonder whether it might have been in the Romanov kitchen. If there was such a partnership, the pretender and Filaret took that secret to their graves.

Whatever the case may have been, upon ascending the throne False Dmitry released Filaret from the monastery. He could not release him from his monastic vows, but he could and did make him Metropolitan of Rostov. Filaret surely appreciated the comforts of the Metropolitan Palace as compared with the spartan accommodations of his monastery cell.

Over the succeeding years, during which power changed hands several times and it was not always clear who was in charge, Filaret managed to navigate the stormy seas of civil war and political turmoil. The boyar Vasily Shuisky became tsar, and Filaret helped him canonize Tsarevich Dmitry (who had died many years earlier in Uglich) in an effort to discourage future impostors, even accompanying the tsarevich’s remains from Uglich to Moscow. Nevertheless, a new rival rose up to challenge Shuisky – False Dmitry II, yet another pretender claiming to be the tsarevich. Dmitry II’s army stood outside Moscow, in Tushino (he later came to be known “the thief of Tushino”). And there, too, was Filaret, recognizing the Tushino thief as the surviving tsarevich and celebrating a mass proclaiming this new pretender tsar. In gratitude, False Dmitry II appointed Filaret patriarch.

Later, after this pretender was also killed, Filaret went to Poland to conduct difficult negotiations between the Moscow boyars and Poland’s King Sigismund about the possibility of putting Sigismund’s son, Wladyslaw, on the Russian throne. When the strength of Russian public opinion against a Polish ruler became clear, Filaret found himself in a difficult position, somewhere between captive and valuable hostage of Poland. Meanwhile, during the years of Filaret’s detention, amazing changes were taking place in Russia. The Poles were expelled, and a new Zemsky Sobor, after long deliberation, elected as tsar Mikhail Romanov – Filaret’s son. Truth can indeed be stranger than fiction!

After concluding peace with Poland, Mikhail negotiated his father’s return (although he barely knew the man). From that point forward, Filaret, who was again proclaimed patriarch, spent the rest of his life essentially ruling the country with (or instead of?) his weak-willed and dull-witted son. The fact that the tsar had a father was an utterly anomalous situation – after all, sons are supposed to come to power when their fathers die. It was not just a matter of the mechanisms of succession: a father, in the thinking of the time, always has power over his son, even his adult son. On the other hand, only God is above the tsar. Yet no one seemed to object to this novel and seemingly absurd – perhaps even sacrilegious – situation, or at least felt inclined to point it out. Filaret was not, after all, a man to argue with. Perhaps the fact that Mikhail had such a strong and clever father contributed to his election. The boyars well understood that the sixteen-year-old Mikhail lacked the forceful character, intelligence, and talent to be an effective leader, but they were not able to elect Filaret himself, since he was a monk, and on top of that, a monk in Polish captivity when the Zemsky Sobor had to make its decision.

Such was Fyodor Romanov’s amazing life – or lives: Moscow dandy, involuntary monk, patriarch to tsars with varying degrees of legitimacy, and a virtual regent for his adult son.

Where is the enterprising novelist or screenwriter to turn Filaret’s life into a blockbuster?