The factors that contributed to the wealth of the magnates overlapped those that furnished them with manpower. This period saw enormous fluctuations in the supply of and demand for agricultural produce. A bumper harvest in 1618 coincided with high prices on the export market, while 1619 yielded a tiny crop accompanied by low prices and a European financial crisis. Small estates benefited only marginally from a good year and suffered severely in a bad one, often going bankrupt for lack of financial reserves. Increasing numbers of minor szlachta were obliged to sell out to the local magnate, who was the only source of cash in the area. The birth rate of the minor szlachta soared in the sixteenth century owing to improved hygiene and medical care, and the resulting numerous families only compounded the slide into penury. A sort of noble
The pattern varied around the Commonwealth. In Wielkopolska a higher percentage of szlachta managed to hang on to productive estates, thereby not only maintaining their own financial independence, but also thwarting the accumulation of vast latifundia. No princely states developed there, even if the real wealth of the local magnates was on a par with that of those in Lithuania or Ukraine who owned areas the size of a small country. It was here, in the eastern reaches of the Commonwealth, that the great mag—nates were a law unto themselves. Their ambitions and priorities were of no interest to the rest of the country, but their ability to carry on a semi-independent policy dragged it into disastrous adventures on more than one occasion. Possibly the most spectacular of these was a private jaunt which developed into years of full-scale war with Muscovy.
Ivan the Terrible had died in 1584, leaving two sons: Fyodor, who took the throne; and Dmitry, who was exiled to Uglich, where he was murdered in 1591, probably by Boris Godunov, who became Tsar after Fyodor died, in 1598. In 1601 Muscovy was racked by severe famine, giving rise to unrest and rebellion, and dark rumours began to circulate about Boris, about his bloody deeds, and about divine retribution.
In 1603 a runaway monk by the name of Grishka Otrepiev appeared at the court of Prince Konstanty Wiśniowiecki, Palatine of Ruthenia, claiming to be Ivan’s son Dmitry. He spun a yarn about his miraculous escape from Boris Godunov’s cut-throats in 1591, and although this was taken with a pinch of salt, his potential usefulness was quickly perceived by Jerzy Mniszech, Palatine of Sandomierz, a man whose personal ambition was exceeded only by the fortune he had made out of salt-mines. He had married off one daughter to Wiśniowiecki, and was now seeking a match for his second, Maryna. The pseudo-Dmitry agreed to marry her in return for financial and political backing. Dmitry went to Kraków and converted to Catholicism. This earned him the support of the Jesuits, who persuaded the Papal Nuncio to introduce him to King Zygmunt. The King received him graciously, granted him a pension, and permitted him to canvass support and raise an army. The impostor then tried to persuade the Chancellor and the hetmans to back him, without success, but there was no lack of adventurers willing to follow him.
In September 1604 Dmitry set off at the head of an army of 3,000 men, paid for by Mniszech. His progress was facilitated by the chaos reigning in Muscovy. Cities surrendered to him and many boyars joined his ranks. In April 1605 Boris Godunov died suddenly in Moscow, and Dmitry entered the city without a fight. He was crowned Tsar, and Maryna Mniszech arrived to take her place at his side. In May 1606 there was a rising in Moscow, and Dmitry was killed. His Polish followers were put to the sword, his wife was locked up, and his corpse was dragged by the genitals to Lobnoie Mesto, where it was cut up, burnt, stuffed into a cannon, and shot off westwards, whence he had come.
The boyar Vasily Shuisky was elected to rule in his place, but that was not the end of the story. In July 1607 an even more dis—reputable impostor claiming to be the miraculously surviving Dmitry appeared on the scene (there were to be forty such pretenders between 1598 and 1613). The freed Maryna Mniszech ‘recognised’ him (her Jesuit confessor made them go through a second marriage ceremony just in case), and he became the rallying point for disgruntled Muscovites and Poles who had followed his namesake. They were joined by a number of Lithuanian magnates, including Samuel Tyszkiewicz and Jan Piotr Sapieha, nephew of the Chancellor of Lithuania.