When Love Goes Wrong: Ivan the Terrible and Fedor Basmanov.

History books tend to skate over the interesting fact that Ivan the Terrible (Tsar Ivan IV 1530 – 1584) swung both ways sexually. You’ll find much of the scholarship on the period pointedly silent about this facet of Ivan’s life. Most historians place little emphasis on sex and relationships as a potential driver for the ruler’s actions. I don’t agree. Tsars, autocrats – they happen to be human.

The Facts – Did it Happen At All?

Ivan already had a reputation for womanising by 1560, when his first wife, Anastasia, died. After her death, Ivan embraced full-on debauchery. Round about 1562 he appears to have gathered a new group of favourites (this court, like other European courts, ran on favouritism) who liked to booze and party – matching his mood. Among this clique was the notable soldier, Aleksei Basmanov. When they weren’t urging vodka drinking contests, they seem also to have advocated more strenuous and repressive government, and a number of members of the nobility (rivals of this new inner circle) found themselves persecuted and on the out – out in this case ranging from exile, forced taking of holy orders, or execution. Also some time around this period, Ivan seems to have given way to homosexual leanings and begun a relationship with Aleksei Basmanov’s older son, Fedor.

Some historians still dispute the existence of this affair. However, it is referred to in three primary sources, and while these sources are tendentious in places, there’s little reason to doubt it happened – the sources in question were not inter-conscious. There is a profound shortage of primary evidence for the period, and it often requires sifting and consideration – much of it is travellers’ tales: exaggerated and written to blacken either Ivan’s character, or that of his countrymen.

The first recorded allusion to the Basmanov affair that has survived is the accusation of a defecting Prince, Andrei Kurbsky, who fled Russia in 1564 during the persecution of members of the nobility, and took service with Ivan’s enemy, the King of Poland. He later wrote to Ivan and accused him of consorting with evil men, who even gave him their children for his debauches. This is usually read as reference to Aleksei and Fedor Basmanov.

A more personal (if possibly inaccurate) account of Fedor has come from the German, Albert Schlichting, who served close to court and had the confidence of one of Ivan’s physicians. Schlichting left in 1571 but wrote a brief account – sometimes highly exaggerated – of the period. He refers bluntly to the relationship and indicates Fedor was the beautiful face of the Tsar’s cruelty. How poetic!

But the most colourful take comes from an Italian envoi of the time:

Allegedly, a senior courtier spoke abusively to Fedor: “We all serve the Tsar; some of us in useful ways, and you in vile sodomy!” Fedor apparently complained to Ivan, whose response was outrageous (though perhaps not atypical of Ivan – he was a rather singular character) – he threw a dish of boiling hot food on that courtier and stabbed him for good measure. This deliciously colourful example of life at Ivan’s court (often melodramatic, rarely dull) has been largely responsible for the consequent depiction of Fedor in legend as a sort of spiteful and whingeing pretty boy – the pansy with the mean streak, as it were. Except that other sources tell a different fate for the insulter, namely a more traditional form of execution/or his being murdered by the Tsar’s huntsmen (who occasionally served in this way). It’s hard to find any source that has a good word to say for the Basmanovs, and yet it may well be that their names have been blackened unfairly.

In October 1564, both Basmanovs were visiting their estates near the frontier town of Riazan. They learned of an impending attack on the town by the hordes of the Crimean Tartar khan and, rallying the local people, heroically beat off the attack – a force of some 60,000. Fedor was decorated for bravery by a grateful Tsar. He had already served in military campaigns – notably as the Tsar’s adjutant in the campaign that took back the town of Polotsk in 1563. Military service was a mandatory feature of existence at this level of society. All of which presents a very different figure from the whingeing court fop of legend. Of course, he might have been a whingeing court fop AND a competent soldier, but I think that’s unlikely – Russian military service in this era was emphatically NOT for sissies, involving as it often did riding many miles, in the freezing cold.

We don’t know how old Fedor was, either, though he would have begun his service career at fifteen, and therefore it was unlikely he was much older than a teenager when he took up with Ivan. Fifteen was ‘of age’ in that society.

In 1565, Ivan, possibly with the advice and aid of the Basmanovs and other court players of the inner circle, reinvented his reign, by dividing Russia. One part – the Oprichnina – would be under his direct rule with no buffer institution to endorse his actions. The remainder – the Zemshchina – would be ruled along traditional lines, with a council of boyars (noblemen) executing the Tsar’s orders. The more valuable and strategically important land was taken into the Oprichnina, which increased in size over time. To run Ivan’s writ, he also formed the oprichniks – a sort of elite armed guard/enforcers, with sweeping powers of coercion. Establishing the Oprichnina involved removing all people the Tsar did not want on his personal domain, and either murdering them, or forcibly resettling them in hinterland areas. Ivan also removed his court from Moscow and resettled in Aleksandrovsk, some 100 or so miles distant. There can be no question that he still trusted Fedor completely, because he appointed Fedor ‘kraichi’ – technically the royal carver at table, but in practical terms, the high-ranking courtier who was responsible for the safety of the Tsar’s food from poison. Fedor’s younger brother, Petr, was also an officer in the oprichniks – this is about the only fact we know about this shadowy brother.

The picture being painted by such secondary evidence, therefore, suggests less that the Basmanov father and eldest son were some sort of malign influence, but simply super-loyal servitors who agreed with the way Ivan wanted to rule, and who also as a sideline were able to advance their position, and get what every Russian aristocrat of the time wanted – more granted land. If they also exploited their position to settle court rivalries, well, they were no different from anyone else of the time. People who shudder at the violence of Ivan’s reign ought to remember that in 1572 Ivan wrote a letter expressing disgust at the St Bartholemew’s Massacre… In his eyes, no punishment for traitors was too harsh. However, St Bartholemew’s was not an action against treason. Diplomatic point scoring aside, this was universally an age of casual disregard for human life and suffering.

Of course, it may be that Ivan kept Fedor around to appear virtuous by comparison, or as some entertaining and enticingly sexy bad boy – except there is not a single verifiable account of any particular evil deed directly attributable to Fedor (outwith the standard mayhem of the period – he was assuredly no delicate snowflake, after all). Kurbsky in his 'History' refers to a massacre led by the Basmanovs. However, no historian has been able to find a corresponding account of such an event to verify his charge. Fedor was close to the Tsar (one way or another) for six years.

Fedor and Aleksei continued in favour until 1569. In this year, Fedor was appointed governor of the south-west Oprichnina territories around the town of Kaluga. This might seem a position of high trust (he'd have been about 24 at most, which is young for such a pivotal appointment), however, to me it reads as warning he had lost the Tsar’s especial favour. He was essentially being sent away from court, and this was never a good thing for the court favourite – there were too many potential rivals remaining who were now at greater liberty to blacken your name. In the same year, Aleksei was removed from the list of close counsellors to the Tsar.

Why had the Basmanovs suddenly been ousted from the inner circle?

I believe it was because of two particular factors. Firstly, when Ivan decided to punish the town of Novgorod for treason (largely, though not entirely imagined) and the expedition was planned, Aleksei counselled against such violence – which as planned was extreme even by Ivan’s standards. That’s not to imply either Aleksei or Fedor had suddenly become softies, however, they appear to have blanched from wholesale civilian massacre. Earlier in his career, Aleksei had been deputy governor of Novgorod – it may be possible he had connections – either business or personal – with the city, or retained affection for the place. Nevertheless, it was not advice the Tsar wanted to hear; Basmanovs were pointedly left out of the punitive expedition against Novgorod in January 1570, and similar expeditions against Tver and Pskov. Sometime in summer 1570 all three Basmanovs disappeared from history. In addition during 1569, Ivan – after clearly wanting to for some time – got rid of his closest relative, Prince Vladimir of Staritsa, his cousin, by forcing him, his wife and some of his children to drink poison. Ivan also had Vladimir’s mother drowned and/or poisoned. I’m not suggesting for a moment the Basmanovs were fans of the Staritsa connection (the opposite is more likely), however, I do wonder (and this last is conjecture) whether Aleksei and Fedor simply recoiled from such cold-blooded murder of women and children. Both men were experienced soldiers who would have felt little to no compunction at ordering the slaughter of men they considered enemies of the Tsar. Both men might have regarded the deaths of women and children in war as collateral damage. However, both, as family men themselves might have baulked at the idea of making the wives and children of traitors deserving victims also. Around this time, the persecution of ‘enemies of the Tsar’ seems to have escalated to encompass women and children – 1567 and 1568 were years of extreme violence. I think the likes of Fedor and Aleksei woke up to an actual realisation as to where it was all going and it may have triggered dormant conscience. After all, it takes little imagination to look forward to a time when ‘you’ become the enemy, and the consequent outlook for your own close family becomes important. There’s no way of knowing. It had not been unknown for Ivan’s ‘justice’ to encompass entire families. Perhaps on the earlier occasions Fedor, at least, as having no family to worry about, might have felt little personal stake in such matters, which viewpoint changed as he became a father (he had two sons). Again, conjecture, because we have no evidence of such thinking, and can only apply certain human nature generalisations. Perhaps Fedor and/or Aleksei drew the line at killing kinfolk.

Of course the idea that Fedor might have said in sincerity to Ivan that it was wrong to kill your relatives, is a delicious thought in light of what was to come.

Whatever the background, it’s clear to me that Fedor certainly lost the Tsar’s trust. And even before he did, the very particular nature of his relationship with Ivan would have made him many bitter enemies at court. Was he arrogant? Again, there’s little in the way of evidence one way or another, but I can imagine him being so – given his age and the times, I think it’s inevitable. The encroaching rift between the Tsar and his former darlings, the Basmanovs, is big enough for at least one leading historian to remark in surprise at Aleksei Basmanov’s being left out of the Novgorod expedition, given that he was one of the leading military figures of the time. In addition, the despatch of Fedor to a provincial town some 200 odd kilometres from Ivan’s main court residence suggests a break.

After Ivan had ‘visited’ (with some extreme prejudice) the various Russian towns he felt needed teaching a lesson, he turned on a large number of former favourites, most of whom had been implicated in treasonous activities by way of tortured confessions from those arrested in the Novgorod affair. Of course, the Basmanovs’ rivals in the Oprichnina, were effective and creative in torturing out sufficient accusations against the Basmanovs and their allies, and were able to present a case that Ivan – who as a textbook paranoiac - was prepared to believe. Indeed, the more Ivan trusted a person, the greater risk of his perceiving any wrong thinking by that person as wholesale betrayal. The final act of 1570 was the public execution in Moscow (in a variety of astoundingly nasty ways) of former favourites/close associates (including the man who had run foreign policy, pretty much and the state treasurer). However, the Basmanovs were dealt with in private – Ivan did not wish to expose that men he had trusted to run the Oprichnina were traitors – and they were questioned (tortured), found guilty, disgraced and expropriated. Petr was executed. Then, if accounts are to be believed (and several independent commentators repeat the story, suggesting it has some grounding in truth), Fedor was compelled to behead Aleksei, and exiled north to a monastery-cum-fortress/prison, the Monastery of the White Lake, at Beloozero before either being executed or dying soon after. Fedor thus passed into notoriety as the cowardly court favourite who would literally stop at nothing – not even parricide - to retain favour.

However, the key word is ‘compelled’. One can imagine the sort of strong arm persuasion that might be used to compel a man to kill his father. Fedor had three hostages to fortune: his wife and two young sons. It’s equally possible he agreed to kill his father to avoid him facing torment.

There’s no objective evidence of Fedor resenting his dad, or being a total psychopath, either. He’s frequently described as ‘notoriously cruel’ by historians, but they inevitably do not provide any actual primary evidence or example of such behaviour to support that assertion. Fedor served as a leading oprichnik, which of itself implies he would not shrink from the sort of savagery common to the time. However, neither did anyone else. It was not an age for the softy. I suspect much of the odium levelled against Fedor in particular may stem from homophobic hostility to the very idea of what he was – so much easier to accept the existence of a homosexual lover of the Tsar if he was a rotter. In short, it exonerates Ivan in some way, if you place all the moral blame on his lover.

The other direct contemporary reference to say Ivan and Fedor were sexually involved is in the colourful account of a German adventurer, Heinrich von Staden, who became an oprichnik guard. He refers to ‘Fedor Basmanov, with whom the Grand Prince committed lewd acts’. I’m of the view that as widely diverse sources confirm the sexual connection between Ivan and Fedor, it’s true. And that’s pretty much all the fact we have. Not much to work with, so we have to consider secondary evidence and try to make a pattern that works.

Playing Detective – What Sort of Relationship Was it Really?

It is the very savagery of Ivan’s response to Fedor’s imagined treachery flags to me that Ivan was still emotionally involved with Fedor in 1570. It thus implies a lot more going on than some quick mistaken drunken shag: ‘Oh my God! You’re NOT a girl!!!’ Russian female historical novelists in particular have trouble with this ‘aberrant’ relationship and depict it as a drunken mistake, featuring Fedor the court tart who gets men drunk and pounces on them (lucky things!).

Let’s consider it in a slightly different direction. First of all, Ivan was a deeply devout and sincere practitioner of his faith (however wicked some of his deeds were - one of the things about him that prevents him just being a monster is that he so often bitterly repented of his excesses – he was a complex and damaged individual. Sadly, a proper discussion of his psychological make up is another account altogether), so it’s obvious that he would have experienced tumultuous inner conflict in any emerging homosexual desire. Secondly, I don’t believe he’d have given way to such leanings unless he was profoundly engaged – which indicates Fedor must have attracted him deeply. We have no source that describes any physical characteristics of Fedor – only Ivan is described, and one other character of the reign (of whom more, later). Fedor could have been beautiful; the description of his being the fair face of Ivan’s tyranny is not much to go on. We don’t know. I’m of the hopeful view (sadly influenced by the myth around Fedor – he’s exquisite in every fictional version) that his looks must have been exceptional to attract Ivan and break down the moral barriers, because Ivan certainly loved beautiful things – it was one of his defining characteristics. And it is a fact of history that Ivan was a very attractive man – tall, powerfully built and imposing-looking if you like that sort of hawk-like fierceness (I do!). The third factor is that Fedor lived at Ivan’s court for seven years. I’d imagine, knowing Ivan’s character, that had this been the one-nighter mistake of hopeful lady novelists’ dreams, Ivan would have kicked Fedor out of court at best, and had him bumped off at worst. Instead, there he is, protecting the Tsar’s safety, at mealtimes (and poisoning was a real and present threat in those times). That to me suggests an affair that continued in some form or other, based on genuine feeling and devotion – and on both sides. It would have been so very easy for Ivan to rid himself of Fedor (and Ivan had no trouble later of ridding himself of wives who bored him, or indeed ultimately Fedor himself).

Forcing someone to become a parricide is particularly vicious; parricide, in the moral tariff of the time was a fast track to lower hell. Orthodox hell is not exactly Dantesque in form, but nonetheless, parricide is a dreadful treachery, that utterly damns the perpetrator. Ivan wanted to damn Fedor totally – repaying the cut of the betrayal (as Ivan saw it).

In one of history’s supreme ironies, in 1581, Ivan experienced in reverse what he had arranged for Fedor, when, in a fit of rage, he struck out at and ultimately mortally wounded his own son and heir. Shortly after this, Ivan – almost deranged with remorse - drew up a series of commemorative lists called synodicals, which named those victims whom he felt had been wrongly killed. He expended enormous sums to monasteries ordering prayers for them. Fedor Basmanov was one of Ivan’s ‘wrong victims’ and he paid 100 roubles for prayers for Fedor at the great monastery of Trinity-Sergius (he likewise repented of Petr and Aleksei, who are also named in synodicals). This was a small fortune in the economics of the age. At about the same time, he returned some of the confiscated lands to the sons of Fedor.

I said earlier, that one other person of the time had left some physical description, and that is the oprichnik who was to be Fedor’s nemesis, the famous bogey and mass-murderer, Malyuta Skuratov (full name: Grigory Luk'yanovich Skuratov-Bel'sky) – who supposedly had red hair and beard – this may be hagiography, and an attempt to equate the terrifying Skuratov with the devil. He almost certainly arranged to trump up the evidence against the Basmanovs.

Fedor in Literature and Film.

The fact that historians seem to prefer not to demonstrate any interest in Fedor hasn’t stopped artists being fascinated by him. He’s in a little known opera, ‘the Oprichnik’, by Tchaikovsky. He’s an important character in a 19^th Century historical novel by the other Tolstoy, Aleksei. This novel is called Prince Serebriany, and is probably the reason for the hagiographical depiction of Fedor as the spiteful psycho pretty-boy. In that book Fedor is an intriguing and unusual character - beautiful, effeminate and malicious. He is also a brave and competent fighter. The homosexuality between him and Ivan is strongly hinted at, with Fedor ultimately being executed in some haste to shut him up as he seems on the point of making public confession. He makes dark hints from time to time that he had been disgracefully corrupted in Ivan’s palace of Aleksandrovsk: ‘One learns all that is wicked at Aleksandrovsk.’ Aleksei Tolstoy also wrote poetry, where Fedor is described as having “the smile of maiden, the heart of a snake” and elsewhere as being “a fiery serpent of cruelty”. The same author is also responsible for the finest bit of myth about Fedor – that he danced in a dress and masked as a girl in order to please Ivan. There’s no hard historical evidence for this fine bit of hagiography, sadly. More’s the pity.

And there’s the greatest source of Fedor-myth of all, Sergei Eisenstein’s film masterpiece, Ivan the Terrible.

Fedor is an important character in the movie. He is also, as played by the actor, Mikhail Kusnetsov, jaw-droppingly beautiful. There’s no overt ‘queerness’ in the movie; however, the relationship with Ivan is highly and suggestively subtextual (though it’s worth recording at this point that everyone in the movie can be subtexted with Ivan – this is probably the most sublimely homoerotic movie ever produced). Fedor is more a devoted bodyguard of the Tsar than lover (though he clearly loves Ivan - there is a scene between them in Anastasia’s bedroom (after she dies) and this is NOT coincidental, since Eisenstein intends Fedor to stand almost as an alternative wife to Ivan in subtext). In the finest sequence of the movie, a wild orgiastic feast, Fedor dances masked and dressed as a woman (and yes, Eisenstein took that idea from A K Tolstoi). There’s nothing effeminate about him though – he’s lethally seductive – almost demonic... did I say sexy?

The Fallout – What Happened Afterwards.

Malyuta Skuratov, technically the villain of this tale of love gone all to hell, took no further chances. In Autumn 1570 he fixed a third marriage for Ivan with his own candidate bride (though it was short-lived), as well as supplying a nephew, Bogdan Belsky, to ‘attend the Tsar’s chamber’. Many scholars read that young Bogdan replaced Fedor in more personal ways. Skuratov himself stopped a bullet outside the fortress of Weissenstein, in 1573 (by accident) and died at the height of favour. However, his influence over the subsequent history didn’t end.

Fedor Basmanov’s widow remarried (most likely it was ordered) and bore three more children to her second cousin, Prince Vasily Golitsyn – a son of a very famous Russian family - giving Fedor’s sons three half-brothers.

After Ivan died in 1584, his simple-minded son, Fedor, became Tsar. He removed the disgrace from the Basmanovs and restored their lands. Fedor Basmanov’s eldest son, Petr, rose under the marked favour of Boris Godunov (the de facto ruler and Tsar Fedor’s brother in law), and became one of his leading commanders. After Boris Godunov (who became Tsar by election in 1598) died in 1605, Petr was one of the few commanders who remained steadfast in allegiance to the teenage heir, Tsar Fedor II Godunov.

This changed when the new Tsar’s mother ordered Petr’s demotion. She was the daughter of - Malyuta Skuratov. Petr had risen and remade his family fortunes, overcome clan disgrace, and the scandal of his father’s connections with Ivan. Being demoted by the relatives of the man who had engineered Fedor Basmanov’s destruction and so blighted Petr’s childhood (the young Petr, as the landless scion of a disgraced clan, would have faced an uncertain future with court service barred), was possibly the last straw and Petr’s defection to the cause of a pretender to the throne probably sealed Fedor II Godunov’s fate.

I don’t think anyone had forgotten the events of Ivan’s reign; I believe people were still smarting over certain events and biding their time to pay off old scores. One of Petr’s Golitsyn half-brothers is alleged to have murdered Fedor II Godunov and his mother, in the Kremlin in 1605. The Golitsyns had suffered their own vicissitudes during the period of the Oprichnina and may well have had their own issues about Malyuta Skuratov and his descendants.

In short, the history of the time may have been only in part about the aftermath of Ivan’s ruthless drive to establish a centralised autocracy. It was also about fallout from such private murk as an ill-judged homosexual affair between the autocrat and a courtier, and the arising jealousy, betrayals and bitterness it caused, with the resulting grudges expiated in the next generation. I think people were still festering with resentment about these events, forty odd years later.

Not bad legs for a story of the love that durst not speak its name.

Notes/Further Reading.

1. The names Fedor and Petr are pronounced Fyódor, and Pyótr.

2. There are no good popular biographies of either Ivan the Terrible or his successors. You have to read academic ones to avoid wading through tendentious dreck. The most comprehensive one in English, is ‘Ivan the Terrible’ by Isabel de Madariaga – excellent, but fact and analysis heavy, with the caveat that there are one or two inconsistencies.

3. ‘The Correspondence between Prince A M Kurbsky and Tsar Ivan IV’ is out of print (and cost me the price of an armchair). It is translated by J L I Fennel and provides an interesting insight in the way megalomaniacs express themselves for posterity. One of Ivan’s letters runs to 85 pages. He was not laconic by nature.

4. Prince A M Kurbsky’s ‘Life of Ivan IV’, also translated by Fennel is a fine piece of muckraking.

5. ‘A Brief Account of the Tyranny of Ivan IV’ by A A Schlichting is impossible to get hold of. Luckily, most of what he says is quoted in other sources.

6. ‘The Land and Government of Muscovy’, by Heinrich von Staden is an ‘insider account’ of the Oprichnina, a piece of galloping mendacity, but highly entertaining.

7. ‘Russia’s First Civil War’ by Chester Dunning is an outstanding study of the tumultuous history after the death of Ivan and a good account of the strange fate of Fedor’s elder son, Petr.

8. ‘Prince Serebriany’, by A K Tolstoi is an entertaining historical novel of the reign of Ivan. It brings a 19^th Century view to the homosexuality, too. Fedor is gayer than a maypole and camper than a row of tents in it – except when he’s fighting like a lion.

9. ‘Eisenstein’s Ivan the Terrible’, by Joan Neuburger is a mine of information about the themes and subtext in the film and confirmed it wasn’t just me goggling at the fact that every male character in it clearly fancies Ivan.

Revise, revise, revise

The first story arc of the novel is close to completion, with one largish part missing (the foundation and the development of the Oprichnina [1] 1565-1569) to be done. That should keep me out of the pub until Christmas. However, I've found the muse has been productive this week, weighing in on one of the more vexatious controversies as regards my novel: the actual fate of Fedor Basmanov.

Essentially, I've read about three possible fates for Fedor:

1. The rather romantic version of his being compelled to execute his father, Aleksei, before being immediately executed himself, usually at the hands (or rather, axe) of Malyuta Skuratov.
2. The most likely version: that Basmanov father and son were exiled to Beloozero (present-day Goritskyi), where Fedor may have been compelled to execute his father, before later dying himself.
3. Fedor killed Aleksei in an attempt to recover the favour of Ivan, but Ivan wasn't impressed by such evil parricide and ordered his execution anyway.

The two main sources of Fedor's parricide are Kurbskyi, who indupitably was not present or even in Russia at the time of these events (probably 1570), and Heinrich von Staden (the German adventurer who served in the oprichniks [2] and later wrote a highly coloured and tendentious account of his service therein). Both state the idea that Fedor killed his father; neither can be trusted entirely. However, I find generally, when both agree, there might be a grain of truth present. Both are assuredly repeating gossip, however, when the two are in accord, it implied the gossip was common. Kurbskyi was in exile from Russia and could not have eyewitnessed Ivan's turning on former favourites, whilst Staden does not appear to have joined the oprichniks until c. 1568, and never held high position (though he makes up for this by considerable bragging). Staden never mentions Beloozero and that indicates he wasn't there, either.

What, or where is Beloozero? Beloozero (it's pronounced bela-ózera not bel-oo-zero) as it was called in the 16th Century, means white lake. There is a lake of that name in Russia, and it's on the shores of the lake the town stands. It's now called Belozersk. It lies considerably to the north of Moscow. In the days of my story, it would have been distant indeed, though not too far-flung. The settlement had important ties to the Tsar, because it housed the important Kirillo-Belozerskyi monastery, one of the leading holy communities in Russia. Ivan himself frequently visited there, and is alleged to have planned retirement (on and off) as a monk at the community. There are still cells planned for his occupation that can be seen by visitors.

This place wasn't just a monastery, it was a prison, and housed many prisoners of note in the earlier part of his reign (who were either just prisoners in the sense of restricted liberty but still secular persons, or were forcibly made to take orders). The regimen for prisoners varied considerably - some were richly housed, however, it is recorded others would be kept in chains.

From the historical novelist's point of view, all this ongoing tendentiousness of sources (Kurbskyi was a bitter enemy of Ivan's and Staden wrote to impress his new boss, the Habsburg Emperor) is helpful. Actual rock solid fact would be easier in a way, because it avoids the need for this sort of endless musing, but in the absence I've been trying to fit the three ideas about Fedor into some logical pattern.

I was inclined to dismiss the Beloozero placing of his end in favour of a more dramatical execution scene somewhere more central (the oprichnina fortress at Aleksandrova Sloboda), simply for the reason of having Ivan present - and so Fedor could offer some rather savage insults. However, that almost fanfiction-ish dismissal of the canon has bugged me for sometime, notwithstanding that being my favourite scene so far!

The next question is whether Fedor was actually executed or left to perish after despatching his father. I rather like that from a writer's point of view; it eschews melodrama (and while I like my scene of his end, I'll confess it is a touch melodramatic). The quiet horror of an end where someone confronts their own committing of parricide and the dreadful betrayal by someone they loved beyond reason, and loved sufficiently to become corrupted, seems utterly awful. I'm of the opinion that Fedor was NOT a willing parricide (his place in Russian historical hagiography has implied a sort of ruthless teenage pretty-boy psychopath who cheerfully offed his own dad to retain favour), but the repeated use by historians of such words as: compelled, forced, implies he was reluctant. And no doubt the likes of Malyuta Skuratov could be extremely persuasive in the wrong sort of ways. So, I believe firmly that Fedor was not a total baddun. Indeed, he may have dispatched his father (as another contemporary victim of Ivan's did) simply to save him further torment. Even so, Fedor, as a true son of his times would have been wracked over what he had done, in a moral tariff that held parricide as odious as the Romans did.

Was Fedor executed? Madariaga says he was and this is asserted by his being mentioned in the Sinodiki (the commemoration lists sent to monasteries with money ordering prayers for the souls of those victims Ivan repented of). She suggests that another leading oprichnik who fell from grace at the same time, Afanasyi Viazemskyi, who was starved to death in chains at Gorodets, was NOT mentioned in any Sinodik, and uses these two comparisons to suggest Fedor's execution. Skrynnikov on the other hand has made an extensive study of the synodiki and does not suggest Fedor's execution. We can be sure he died either way soon after, for his wife remarried not much later - she'd not have remarried if he was alive and a prisoner. We also can surmise his death in 1570 from his sudden absence from the boyar lists.

As a side note here - the Basmanovs, father and son, were probably traduced by Malyuta Skuratov and his own clique among the oprichniks. False confessions under torture accused them of co-conspiracy with the treason of Novgorod.

Why Beloozero? I think to take the Basmanovs as far as possible from their power base, the Oka frontier (Riazan, in particular), and also because Ivan did not want any 'treachery' in the oprichnina to be made a public show, as it exposed the weaknesses in the idea.

So might Ivan had watched? I'm pretty certain he was available for a short trip north in early August 1570. And indeed, reading, there seems to be an event gap after 25 July 1570 through to October or so, which would make such a visit possible. I like that. I'm still becoming inclined not to have poor Fedor executed.

All of which means more re-writing, but I hardly mind that. It feels better.

[1] Oprichnina. In 1565, Ivan divided his realm into two parts: the first which would be under his exclusive rule was called the Oprichnina - the term is archaic and means 'apart from'. The remainder would be also under his rule, but with a boyar council having some administration, called the Zemschina.
[2]Oprichniks were his enforcers and also acted as an elite personal guard, with extreme powers of coercion.

Ivan - badly taught?

One of the aspects of Ivan IV that puzzles me is wondering how he was educated and fitted to rule. Because in my opinion, he wasn't (adequately educated, I mean).

There is no solid evidence of his having any education at all, and indeed Edward Keenan has made the somewhat sensational assertion that he was illiterate - mostly disputed, but still debated. Of course, we have no for sure example of his writing, mainly due to the fact that like most men of his rank, he'd have used scribes. I was astonished to discover that he (and his forebears) never signed missives. It just wasn't done.

The famous primary source we have of Ivan speaking - the series of letters exchanged between Ivan and Prince Andrei Kurbskyi, shows that Ivan was somewhat loquacious in expression, and very well read in matters of bible and Russian apocrypha and legend. Other issues indicate great (almost learned) familiarity with scripture and holy writ, as well as the appropriate service books (all demonstrated by his submission of religious questions to the Stoglav). But, despite all this, I'm of the opinion that he was never offered any balancing tuition on the nature of rule, the responsibilities of the ruler, etc, except in the broadest of terms, and broadbrush autocratic ones, at that. He may have been familiar with the thinkings of such thinkers as Nil Sorskyi and other men who had mused on the nature of autocratic rule, and the "Third Rome" doctrine, but we cannot be certain. My view is it was probable.

He does not appear to have taken his duties consistently seriously (sensationally bunking off at one point - or rather, appearing to bunk off), and seems to have had little understanding about theoretical governance issues. His education is markedly different from that of say, his contemporary, Elizabeth, though her learning was remarkable by any yardstick, in that she was astonishingly well-read, multi-linguistic. However, she did not accede to the throne until she was 25, and for large times of her youth can surely not have held any realistic expectation of doing so. Furthermore, she was often a prisoner - or at least confined, and therefore her education would have been the appropriate amusement to such an intelligent and gifted woman, as she appears to have been.

Ivan's education can only be conjectured, probably included basic tuition from various clergy attached to his suite, and because Russia didn't really experience the same humanistic cultural flowering as western Europe (in fairness, Russia had other business - ie, war), his education will have had little in the way of secular teaching, but will have been almost exclusively religiously based.

Ivan acceded to the throne of what we shall call Russia (in lieu of an accurate spot-on name for the Muscovite state) when he was three. He was orphaned at eight, and his life appears to have been dominated by being the bone between a number of dogs, according to court rivalries of the time. He's scathing about his early life in his letters, and though historians have been at pains to point out that objectively, his life was probably no worse than say, the likes of Edward VI, I'm more in Ivan's corner on this, because there seems to have been no figures at court who were there totally for him. It's one thing to say: "His life was no worse than little prince X's!" quite another to say that such a life was satisfactory or other than rather sad and lonely. The other factors that appear lacking are, firstly, female figures. In many cultures, a child, however royal, belongs to his womenfolk in early years (the often implied idea is that a child gains self-confidence because he makes his slips in front of a sypathetic and loving audience). The other lacks were peer companionship (that we know of) and male role models. I don't know a great deal about being brought up as a royal person, but these elements are essential to good social development of a child. It's difficult to identify who can be a true peer to the future autocrat, but nontheless, I've not seen one identified, though Ivan had a deaf-mute brother, Iurii, whom he appears to have loved very much (and I think it's unfair of historians to inevitably ride this statement as they do with: "because he didn't see him as a threat"), but because at that time, communication between them must have been limited, it probably wasn't enough.

The only male role models were all plotting away and backstabbing. If this is the examples he was seeing, it's not that surprising the system of rival favourites is so very pernicious in the reign as a whole. I therefore admire Boris Godunov even more for treading a path through this as he appears to have done.

Comparing him with the monarch I consider the exemplar of the period - Elizabeth - and that's not just patriotism talking, I consider her a genuine shining example of the professional monarch, who worked at ruling, Ivan does not seem to have had the same level of devotion to his duties. In fairness again, Elizabeth clearly wished to rule. She didn't just want to be 'boss' either, but passionately cared for her country and the welfare of her subjects. Ivan seems to have often felt the same but his reign was coloured by constant warfare (he was of a different mindset as a result) and sometimes the whole magnitude of the task seems to have overwhelmed him.

Additionally, Ivan had favourites who helped him rule, but they often had no defined clear role. Elizabeth had the likes of Cecil (father and son), Walsingham, who were both favourites, certainly, but also held defined government positions. She had favourites who didn't and seems to have been able to keep them firmly in their places. Ivan had favourites, who held places, but not defined government roles, though the period did see the emergence of some governance, with the beginnings of a sort of chancellery system. So, you could have the likes of say, Mayuta Skuratov, almost the leading Oprichnik, in the early 1570s, but with little in the way of function outside of that role. He was hardly 'Secretary of State'. Malyuta kept the favour of the Tsar, probably by dint of dying whilst in favour, but apart from being named as 'sacristan' in the framework of the Oprichnina monastic order, does not appear to have held any formal status (other than big cheese).

What I'm trying to mull over in this roundabout way is a series of random thoughts. There's something implied pejorative about the terming 'favourite' - perhaps it's me, but I instantly get the picture of some mincing nance, a la Henri Trois. And yet, in the court of the earlier Tsars, it would simply have referred to someone who either got top appointments in commands because they were close to the ruler, or someone who had decided influence, or both. Or indeed, in the case of Fedor Basmanov, had sex with the ruler, though Fedor seems to have fitted the term 'favourite' in a number of ways (in 'The Silver Prince' he's clearly favourite as court pretty boy/possible perverted sexual partner - in history, he also held a number of high offices, as well as probably sleeping with Ivan). Yet, there's actually little to suggest there was any other system of high appointment in the Muscovite state than favoritism. Clearly, you were very unlikely to get near the Tsar unless you were of high birth (notwithstanding Eisenstein's attempts to paint Malyuta and the Basmanovs as upwardly mobile plebs in the movie) or via the Oprichnina court, which allowed lesser aristos, like Malyuta to rise to be close to Ivan. So to some extent, 'favourite' is simply the boyar or other servitor who has most influence at the time, or one of several people who the Tsar trusts and gets to do jobs he values. In England, you have a more devolved system, with say, Cecil first coming to favour under the reign of Edward VI. Elizabeth inherited him, and probably used his judgement to prop hers, at least in her early reign. Russia does not seem to have had this. Nor did Russia seem to make a distinction between government and military command. Therefore if you were a successful commander, you could run this or that, also. The business of Russia was war (not unlike the Roman republic) and presumably, you were expected to either govern or command interchangeably.

All of which long musings bring me no nearer to the conclusion over Ivan's fitness (or not) in education terms, to govern. I shall have to do a bit of digging about other rulers of the period and see what they were taught/learned. Possibly Elizabeth is the anomalous one, I should probably mug up on Stefan Bathory as a more suitable comparison.

More on the point of view

Having said elsewhere here that you could not successfully write from the point of view of the monarch, I promptly inserted my foot into that mouth-shaped hole and sat down and wrote a short story from the point of view of Ivan the Terrible. That sin is compounded by its being in the pariah second person point of view. Midway through the process, I realised I was writing his conscience accusing himself about his desires for Fedor. Hm.

I'm now in the process of final edit/cutting (it's over wordy, and some strong cutting would improve it a great deal) before searching for places to submit it as a short piece. That might have to wait until August, seeing as my finances are bit tied this month over a trip to London, and generally, it's wisest to read whichever publication I want to try first.

I had the usual mixed bag of experience over getting people to read it, too. I'm no longer a raging nerve bag about writing who requires blanket adoration. I'm actually close to the point where only two things matter: I can sell my work, and get a good review from someone with a name to add. I wrote derivative fanfiction where reviewing is not about constructive critique, but about arsekissing. I seem to have escaped the destructive cycle of write, get universal adoration (a pointless exercise in fanfiction writing, because everyone gets it, even - especially - truly abysmal writers - so feedback is utterly meaningless and of no help), worry over being ignored, needing to write in progress with constant geeing up, etc. In writing fanfiction, you are actually writing for an audience that is not discerning. First off, a good proportion are women who wish to read porn. They then apply hyperbolic praise to the writers of said porn so that by implication, they can excuse themselves it is high art. T'aint. Tis porn. A large proportion are the sort of women who read Mills and Boon. They'll read any old crap for a happy ending. It took me ages to learn that this was not the ideal audience before which I would grow. I fail the porn test because the old hokey pokey (You put your whole self in, in out in out, wriggle it about) does not interest me as much as what people did to get there, and indeed thought afterwards, and I lose on romance, because I invariably get interested in doomed love affairs (face it, no Tsar/Oprichnik has a happy ending - what, you want them to get married?) and I like conflict.

Back to point of view. Of course 'you' stories are bloody irksome. I need a way of showing who the 'you' accuser is, because it is one thing for me to know; it's another for the reader. Besides, if I can start with third person limited, I think, just to set the place, and then effect a segue into an accusing 'you' voice, I might have more change of getting this bugger into print. Friends told me (but didn't have to, not really) about the irrational (!) prejudice of commissioning editors against second person. I don't blame the editors, not really, because I've read some diabolical old tripe in fanfiction under second person voice, which is usually favoured by slash writers of the more pretentious stamp and is inevitably acclaimed work of genius by the silly.

I might therefore also see if I can re-work the piece as all third person limited, and then compare them side by side. I think it's a good story. Sigh.

Most annoying

I've just finished reading the Saturday Guardian newspaper, which I generally enjoy, because it is big and has umpteen supplements to it.

A full page advertisement in the Travel section caught my eye: first for the right reason, then later for the wrong reason.

The company in question are Noble Caledonia, and by the looks of things, put on cruises. This cruise itinerary is called 'Russian Odyssey'. Now, I am contemplating a return to Russia in 2008. All being well, I'd live to visit a variety of places that feature in my novel: Moscow, Alexandrovsk, Uglich, Pereslavl-Zalleskyi, and if wildest dreams could be made to come true, Kostroma, Riazan', and a drive through the village of Elizarovo. This particular cruise didn't, naturally, take in all those places, which are an eclectic collection. However, things caught my eye. First of all, a splendid picture of the Church of the Transfiguration in Kizhi - this marvel (I think it should be slated a wonder of the world) is the largest all-wooden church in Russia, built in 1714 without nails. It is a fantastical example of domes and tent roofing - outside my period and the remit of my novel, but astonishing.

The next thing that grabbed my attention was that the cruise itinerary takes in Uglich. Uglich does feature in my novel, because it is the place where Ivan's youngest son, Dmitryi, was discovered stabbed to death. How this happened is an unsolved mystery in Russian history, with fingers most frequently pointed at the later Tsar, Boris Godunov, as having ordered this. However, that tends to be a view that is more part of legend and slander. As a general view, most scholars dispute that Boris had anything to do with it. It was a slander put about by Dmitryi's maternal connections, the Nagoi clan, and later, by Boris's rivals, notably the later Tsar, Vasilyi Shuiskyi. The advertisement describes Uglich as 'the place were Dmitryi, the youngest son of Ivan the Terrible was murdered.' Just like that. I get unfeasibly irate at bald statements of things that are unproven.

Of even bigger interest, is that the cruise also takes in another notable site for those interested in Ivan's reign: Goritzy. This is the modern name for the place known in the 16th Century as Beloozero. Beloozero contained a harsh monastery of St Kirill, which also frequently doubled as a prison, and later, Ivan built a fortress there, too, to flee to in case of insurrection/civil rebellion during the oprichnina regime. It is said (though like much of the things said about the period, not confirmed) that Aleksei and Fedor Basmanov were exiled there, and at some point shortly after, Fedor executed his father, either as an attempt to get back into favour, or was compelled to do so. Facts in dispute are the location, whether Fedor did kill his father, and the extent of his complicity in the act. Loose controversies, which I have happily taken advantage of in my novel.

My reason for annoyance is that this advertisement suggests Ivan exiled his first and fourth wives to a convent here. That's rubbish. Anastasia Zakharina-Iur'eva was never exiled anywhere, and was that rare creature, a wife of Ivan's who died still in favour and probably loved (though Ivan did tomcat around during her final years). She died in 1560 in Kolomenskoe, and was mourned by many, including her husband who walked behind her bier to Moscow supported by his brother, as they led a solemn procession.

In fact, just momentarily skimming through my books on Ivan, scholarship concensus suggests he might never have been the most faithful or devoted husband, but generally, he appears to have been an uxorious man. I believe he enjoyed the companionship of marriage up to a point. His second wife, the Tatar princess, Kuchenai (baptised Maria), was never dumped, though she presumably had to tolerate her husband's affair with Fedor Basmanov. Goodness knows how many other rivals she had, and there is suggestion Ivan was contemplating ridding himself of her, as he wished to marry Catherine Jagellionka for political reasons. Wife #3, Marfa Sobakina, died before the marriage was consummated, and wife #5, Anna Vasil'chikova, was also repudiated (that one lasted about three years). Wife #6, according to Ruslan Skrynnikov may have been a love match, she was the widow of a Duma secretary, and called Vassilissa Mentel'eva. It lasted a year. I think Skrynnikov sounds right - this was not a political match. I'd love to know how he got to know her! Last wife was Maria Nagaya, in 1580, and she was the mother of Dmitryi. There are two named women who might have lived with Ivan as semi-official mistresses, and one other potential homosexual lover, who was Bogdan Bel'skyi, who seems to have taken over from Fedor sometime in c. 1570-1571. In short, Ivan screwed around, but seems to have been more of a serial monogamist than genuinely promiscuous. Of course, he was the rare man of his country, time and milieu who would have had the opportunity for considerable serial philandering. Much discussion has gone on over his sexuality, but I agree with Madariaga, that he was obviously bisexual. And that's me wandering totally off the point...

Ivan's fourth wife was Anna Koltsovskaia, whom he married (illegally, as the Orthodox Church only recognises three marriages, and so he had to undergo a range of penances to get their ultimate endorsement) in May 1572. This marriage didn't last, and Anna was certainly relegated to a convent in October 1572, when Ivan repudiated her. So they are partially right, but getting the facts about Anastasia so wrong is irritating.

Ivan tended to later idealise his time with Anastasia, and earlier historians, notably Karamzin' have seized on this to suggest she was the love of his life. I personally believe the love of Ivan's life was Ivan. That's not to denigrate Anastasia who lived with him for 13 years and was clearly a companion of sorts. Certainly, after her death, he seems to have become more clearly paranoid than before, and I've read that when someone suffers from paranoid personality disorder, it can become acute and crisis-like on the death of a spouse.

But I get pretty annoyed when advertisements get things so wrong. Surely, the sort of cruise is meant to attract people like me, who have a deep interest, and not some random tourists?

Entering the Past - ways into a historical novel

There seem to be a number of ways for the wannabe/real historical novelist to enter the past they are depicting. Here's a list of ones I've seen, and no, it's not exhaustive:

• Omniscience. A prime example of this is Colleen McCullough's Masters of Rome series, which I loved, except for the fact that her Caesar can do no wrong. He's too perfect. Colleen gets into the heads of a number, though not all, of her characters. Does it come off? Not entirely. I found it a bit confusing. However, the action spans decades; it's difficult to know what else you would do.
  

• From the point of view of the ruler/main historical personage. I can think of one story I've ever read where this works, and it's Margaret Irwin's Elizabeth novels: Young Bess; Elizabeth, Captive Princess; Elizabeth and the Prince of Spain. I think this works because Irwin depicts Princess Elizabeth so note-perfect, I actually feel this is the way she thought. I did not care for Richard III in "The Sunne In Splendour" - he was far too nice.

• Random servitor. Generally made up, the prime example of this is "We Speak No Treason" by Rosemary Hawley Jarman. I loved this when I read it; I was seventeen. It has three characters who knew Richard and tell his story; they are 'made up' with a certain level of plausibility. The made up Maiden, then later the Nun, is the mother of Richard's illegitimate daughter, Katherine, of whom nothing is known; the fool is based on the actual personage Patch (Piers) again of whom we know little, but does seem to have been the name of Edward IV's and later Henry VII's court fool, and the man at arms could be any of a number of knighly retainers. Generally, this is the technique that I think comes off best, though Jarman's telling is overly melodramatic (she improved, mind, I think her sequel, "The Courts of Illusion" is much better, because it's more sombre). Random servitor works - best, I think if you can find an actual historical person and think yourself into their head - because it's a close call to the royal without getting into the sticky morass of trying to think like an absolutist. I don't personally believe a novel from the point of view of Ivan IV would be much cop. It would be all: "I believe the Basmanovs might be traitors. I shall have Skuratov arrest and torture them." or "I suspect the Prince of Staritsa is a traitor. I shall have him executed."
  

• Made up relation. Larry Thingummy, author of Czar! (ick, I'd never read a story with that dreadful transliteration) invented a brother of Ivan (presumably a bastard? Ivan had a real brother, called Iuri, who was a deaf mute) to tell the story. I've no time for inserting major historical characters who never actually existed. And an illegitimate brother of Ivan would be major and assuredly documented. Not to mention most unlikely if the rumours about Vasilyi III's preference for guardsmen are to be credited.

• Me. Or rather, We. Narrating as the main historical person. Never works.
  

One of the awful things about inserted fictional characters in historical novels is they tend to follow the model of what online fandoms call "Mary Sue" or "Gary Stu", ie the paragonic self-insert who is clearly the author. Hence the random wench who cops off with Richard III and is nicer and sexier than Ann Neville, or the sweetly understanding Missy who Edward IV really loved, and who was nicer than that bitch Elizabeth Woodville. Feisty doesn't cut it, either. One of the worst self-inserts I ever read was a mega-bitch who according to her creator was deeply flawed - given my later experience with the creator, that was probably the clearest proof of self-insertion of all.

In the beginning was a biography

Laid up last November, with the mother of all flu viruses, I cheated and peeked into my Christmas present to myself, "Ivan the Terrible" by Isabel de Madariaga. And thus began an obsession.

I studied Russian Studies at University 20 odd years ago, and in fact, Professor de Madariaga did tutor me in 19th Century history, and remembering her fine, albeit intimidating teaching, bought her book. She wrote it well after her retirement.

Good Ivan biographies are rare; and there are no popular biographies worth parting with a penny for. I have two of them; one is a repellent hagiography by Henri Troyat, which merely repeats the vilest slanders uttered by foreigners and enemies about Ivan (he was assuredly no woolly lamb, but there is good and bad to his character - that's why he's interesting. If he were merely a monster, I'd not be sitting here typing this up), the other is a whitewash job by Ian Grey. Neither have benefited from post-Soviet era scholarship. Therefore the only books worth reading are by academics, and therein lies a particular problem.

Academic biographies all suffer to a greater to lesser extent from the reluctance of whichever academic to suffer attack from rivals, and it is thus a rare biography that takes a position on Ivan. What you tend to get is a listing of his deeds, and you will thus take a position of your own. Then, piqued, you order another biography, and take a different position. Only with five biographies (seven if you count the two popular ones I've got) does a sort of head picture come in.

Anyway, I was fascinated by the character of Ivan and wanted to read more. At the time of the first flicker of inspiration, I was also listening intensively to the opera, Boris Godunov, and began thinking of the historical character of Boris, whom I essayed about at University. One thing led to another, and I thought I'd like to write a novel about Boris - tackling the question of whether or not he instigated the murder (if indeed it was a murder) of Dmitry of Uglich. Thinking was as far as it got, because I lacked a protagonist.

In the meantime, prurience had duly noted the presence of a boyfriend of some notoriety in Ivan's life.

Christmas came, I recovered from the flu and watched Eisenstein's movies on Ivan, and duly noted with a certain fascinated salivation the presence of the said boyfriend as an important, and stunningly gorgeous character in the film (though he was subtextual rather than overt - hardly surprising). And I got to mulling over Fedor Basmanov. At this point, any novel was far from my thoughts. However, the historical interest would not go away. I bought another book - this time, an entertaining long view of Russian History, called "Russia's Empires" by Philip Longworth - highly recommended to the newcomer to this subject. And discovered that there was a second Basmanov who had a role in history (well, actually a third, because Fedor's father, Aleksei was one of the great Russian military commanders of the 16th Century) - Fedor's son, Petr. Petr was a loyal servitor through two reigns but changed sides and followed that elusive pretender, the False Dmitry. And at that point, I think I saw a story that was huge.

Longworth recommended a seminal book by Chester Dunning - called "Russia's First Civil War". Dunning's massive study of the period from 1584 (the death of Ivan) through to 1613 (the establishment of the Romanov Dynasty) supported what I had begun to suspect - that Fedor's dreadful fate (of which more, later) might have influenced his son's actions. The events in the reign of Ivan were still reverberating through the two subsequent reigns, through grudge and blood feud. Most historians consider that Fedor and his father were traduced and slandered by rivals (led by Malyuta Skuratov) and met their deaths unjustly. My own theory (albeit that of a novelist, and not an historian) is that at some point, Petr discovered the truth about his father's fall, and determined he would not serve the descendants of his father's rival and possibly killer.