Sophia Paleologue

died April 7, 1503

Today, what were once considered far off lands no longer seem so distant. You can board an airplane and, within a matter of hours, find yourself in another world. Your body still thinks it is in its habitual time zone, where not long ago you were going about your daily business, and here you are – in another country, where everything is different.

Even if you lack the time, money, or stamina for travel, you can at least turn on the television, go online, or open a book and explore places at the opposite end of the earth. Half a century ago, any foreigner in Moscow might as well have been from Mars. Today, Moscow has grown accustomed to the sight of people from across the globe walking their streets, some dressed in unfamiliar clothing and speaking incomprehensible languages.

But what was it like for a woman in the fifteenth century who, more than once, was buffeted by the winds of time from one universe to another?

Sophia (originally named Zoe) Paleologue was the daughter of Thomas Paleologus, who in turn was brother of the last ruler of the Byzantine Empire. This fact alone was enough to leave a deep impression on Zoe’s psyche. When from early childhood you are told that the blood running through your veins is from one of the oldest and most venerated dynasties the world has ever known, you are bound to place yourself in a category apart. And when you’re told that the body of your imperial uncle was never found among the ruins of Constantinople after it was captured by the Turks, that he died defending his dominion, this will also affect how you see your place in the world.

Zoe’s mother descended from Genoese merchants, and her father had been installed to rule over a Greek principality captured from the Byzantines. What did Zoe get from that side of the family? Knowledge of Italian and Italy? Awareness of the fact that her father had been at war with her maternal grandfather and that her parents’ marriage had been part of a peace settlement?

When Zoe was five years old, her world came crashing down around her. Her father’s principality was captured by Turks, forcing him to flee to Corfu, and then Rome, where little Zoe became Sophia. This was her first change of universe. Rome was not yet the great and majestic city that it would soon become thanks to the ambitious plans of the Roman popes, but it was still a remarkable place, the ornate seat of papal power, construction site of the Sistine Chapel, and home to the Renaissance’s finest painters, sculptors, and architects.

In Rome, Sophia and her brothers were accorded respect and position. The Pope allocated funds to support them, and cardinals were assigned to oversee their education and upbringing. Nevertheless, it was not an easy life. By then they had lost both of their parents, and they were under pressure to convert to Catholicism, a step they apparently were not eager to take. One of Sophia’s brothers was officially proclaimed heir to the great Paleologus Dynasty, but that title turned out to be little more than an empty word. His attempts to find a European ruler willing to pay for his crown and the right to his exalted lineage came to naught, and he died in poverty. Another brother could not bear life in a foreign land and returned to Constantinople, which by then had been transformed into Istanbul. Sources suggest that he converted to Islam and entered the service of the sultan.

Young Sophia had the same illustrious lineage and respectable education as her brothers, but that was all. She had no land, no family connections, and, apparently, no beauty. The historical record includes descriptions by her contemporaries mocking her sizable girth. True, she was praised for the amazing whiteness of her skin, but nobody spoke of the unfortunate girl’s beauty or even attractiveness. This did not stop her guardians from trying to find her an advantageous match. When Sophia was eleven, she was offered to the king of Cyprus, who was not interested. Whether this was because of her portrait or lack of wealth or land, we’ll never know.

Another year passed, and the girl became engaged to the rich and distinguished Italian Prince Caracciolo. The marriage never took place, but if it had, not only would Sophia’s life have been very different, but so would the history of a distant land about which Sophia presumably knew very little. As it turned out, in 1467, just when the heavily powdered and ridiculously attired Sophia was being presented to the Italian, young Prince Ivan III of distant Muscovy became a widower.

Ivan was 15 years Sophia’s senior and had been ruling Muscovy, which was rapidly growing in wealth and power, for five years. During the reign of his father, Vasily II, Metropolitan Isidore of Kiev and Moscow had signed an agreement on the reunification of the Orthodox and Catholic churches, an act that so angered Vasily that he imprisoned and later expelled Isidore from Muscovy.

Now the Pope had decided to make another attempt at negotiating unification with Ivan III and offered him an exceptionally appealing bride. For the prince of Muscovy the “niece of the Byzantine emperor” had a much more impressive ring than it did for an Italian aristocrat – Byzantium, after all, was the birthplace of the Eastern Church from which Russian Orthodoxy sprouted. And so the match was made, and Sophia Paleologue, accompanied by a party of Jesuits, a cardinal, and a papal legate, as well as, supposedly, a cargo of priceless Byzantine books, set out for Moscow.

The closer the travelers came to this mysterious city, the more Sophia was filled with a feeling of love for the faith of her birth. It turned out that she never intended to reconcile the Catholics and Orthodox. She did not even allow the accompanying papal legate to enter Moscow with his Catholic cross, and henceforth never manifested the slightest interest in Catholicism. She had other plans in mind.

We do not know how Ivan III first reacted to his plump bride (in Muscovy this was hardly considered a flaw), but we do know that Muscovites were not overly taken with their new grand princess, who was generally disliked and considered a malicious intriguer. Be that as it may, Ivan, who was also not known for benevolence, lived happily with his second wife for many years. The only dark cloud over their otherwise placid marriage stemmed from Sophia’s animosity toward her stepson, Ivan the Younger, her husband’s son by his first wife and heir to the throne. As is often the case (and not only in royal families), the son saw his stepmother and her own young son as rivals. With every year, hostility between them grew. And when young Ivan married, the web of hatred grew to encompass his bride, Yelena.

Ivan III does not appear to have been overly concerned with the ongoing feud within his family. He was just happy that his marriage allowed him to use the Byzantine coat of arms – a double-headed eagle – and to depict himself with orb and scepter, symbols of imperial, or, as they called it in Rus, “tsarist” power. Otherwise, he tended to sympathize with his older son and daughter-in-law, listened to their views on governmental affairs, and, when Ivan the Younger died at the age of just 32, Grand Prince Ivan made his namesake’s son Dmitry heir to the throne.

Sophia’s dream that her own son would one day rule Rus seemed to be all but lost. There were even rumors that she was planning to take him, Vasily (named for his princely grandfather), and flee, fearing what might befall them if they remained in Moscow. But suddenly, for some unknown reason, her fortunes changed. Perhaps Ivan III simply decided he did not want to pass over his living son, or perhaps political and religious intrigues, in which Ivan the Younger’s widow was deeply involved, played a role. In any event, both the widow and her son Dmitry, the official heir to the throne and royal grandson, were placed in prison, where they remained until the end of their lives – not long, as it turned out. Vasily was named heir and Sophia Paleologue was able to celebrate her triumph.

Alas, Vasily too was fated to be plagued by family strife. Furthermore, he had trouble fathering an heir. Finally, his second wife, Elena Glinskaya, bore him a son – grandson to Ivan III and Sophia Paleologue.

History would come to know this child as Ivan the Terrible.