Since Stalin had declared within a couple of hours of Kirov’s death that Zinoviev and his supporters were responsible, it was no surprise that Yezhov and the NKVD arrested a “Leningrad Centre” and a “Moscow Centre,” lists drawn up by Stalin himself. Nikolaev, interrogated to “prove” the connection with Zinoviev, admitted a link on 6 December. Zinoviev and Kamenev, Lenin’s two closest comrades and both ex-Politburo members who had saved Stalin’s career in 1925, were arrested. The Politburo were shown the testimonies of the “terrorists.” Stalin personally ordered Deputy Procurator-General Vyshinsky and Ulrikh to sentence them to death.11
All the witnesses remember that, as Yury Zhdanov puts it, “everything changed after Kirov’s death.” Security was massively tightened at a time when the informality of Stalin’s court with its sense of fun, its bustling ambitious women and scampering children, seemed more important than ever to comfort the bereaved Vozhd. Yet the atmosphere had soured forever: on 5 December, Rudzutak thought he saw Stalin pointing at him and accusing this proudly semi-educated Old Bolshevik of having “studied in college so how could his father be a labourer?” Rudzutak wrote to Stalin, “I wouldn’t bother you with such trifles but I hear so much gossip about me, it’s sad, it’s reached you.” Yan Rudzutak was an intelligent Latvian, a Politburo member and Stalin ally, an alumnus of ten years in Tsarist prisons, with “tired expressive eyes,” a “slight limp from his hard labour,” and an enthusiastic nature photographer, but he clearly felt a chill from Stalin who no longer trusted him.
“You’re wrong, Rudzutak,” Stalin replied. “I was pointing at Zhdanov not you. I know well you didn’t study at college. I read your letter in the presence of Molotov and Zhdanov. They confirmed you’re wrong.”12
Soon after the assassination, Stalin was walking through the Kremlin with a naval officer, past the security guards who were now posted at ten-yard intervals along the corridors, trained to follow every passer-by with their eyes.
“Do you notice how they are?” Stalin asked the officer. “You’re walking down the corridor and thinking, ‘Which one will it be?’ If it’s this one, he’ll shoot you in the back after you’ve turned; if it’s that one, he’ll shoot you in the face.”13
On 21 December, shortly before these executions, the entourage arrived at Kuntsevo to celebrate Stalin’s fifty-fifth birthday. When there were not enough chairs at the table, Stalin and the men started moving the places and carrying in other tables, adding more place settings. Mikoyan and Sergo were elected tamada. Stalin was still depressed by the loss of Kirov but gradually regained his spirits. Yet when Maria Svanidze prepared a poem to read, Alyosha banned her from reading it, perhaps knowing that its sycophancy, or its obvious request for a ladies’ trip to the West, would irritate Stalin.[77]
The dinner was shchi, cabbage soup, then veal. Stalin served soup for the guests, from the Molotovs, Poskrebyshev (with new wife) and Yenukidze, to his children. “Stalin ate his from his soup bowl, just using his fork and taking the meat,” remembers Artyom. Beria, and his former patron, deaf Lakoba, master of Abkhazia, arrived in the middle of dinner.
Stalin toasted Sashiko Svanidze, sister of his first wife Kato and Alyosha. This infuriated Alyosha’s wife, Maria Svanidze: there was a constant war among the women for Stalin’s favour. Then Stalin noticed the children and “he poured me and Vasily some wine,” recalls Artyom, “asking, ‘What’s wrong with you two? Have some wine!’” Anna Redens and Maria Svanidze grumbled that it was not good for them, like Nadya, but Stalin laughed: “Don’t you know it’s medicinal? It can cure all sorts of things!”
Now the evening took a maudlin turn: just as the family had thought of Nadya during Kirov’s funeral, now this female Banquo turned up at this feast too. Toastmaster Sergo raised a glass for Kirov: “Some bastard killed him, took him away from us!” The silence was broken by weeping. Someone drank to Dora Khazan, Andreyev’s wife, who was one of Stalin’s favourite women, and to her studies at the Academy.
This reminded Stalin of Nadya for he stood up: “Three times, we have talked about the Academy,” he said, “so let us drink to Nadya!” Everyone rose with tears running down their faces. One by one, each walked silently round the table and clinked glasses with Stalin who looked agonized. Anna Redens and Maria Svanidze kissed him on the cheek. Maria thought Stalin was “softer, kinder.” Later, Stalin played the disc jockey, putting his favourite records on the gramophone while everyone danced. Then the Caucasians sang laments with their all-powerful choirboy.
Afterwards, by way of relaxing after the sadness, Vlasik the bodyguard, who doubled as court photographer, assembled the guests for a photograph, a remarkable record of Stalin’s court before the Terror: even this photograph would cause more rows among the competitive women.
Stalin sat in the middle surrounded by his worshipful ladies—on his right sat the pushy Sashiko Svanidze, then Maria Kaganovich and the busty soprano Maria Svanidze, and on his left, the slim, elegant First Lady, Polina Molotova. Uniforms mixed with Party tunics: Voroshilov, always resplendent as the country’s senior officer, Redens in NKVD blue, Pavel Alliluyev in his military Commissar’s uniform. On the floor sat the laughing Caucasians Sergo, Mikoyan and Lakoba while Beria and Poskrebyshev just managed to squeeze in by lying almost flat. But at Stalin’s feet, even more noticeable when he posed again with just the women, sat a Cheshire cat smiling at the camera as if she had got the cream: Zhenya Alliluyeva.14
13. A SECRET FRIENDSHIP
The Rose of Novgorod
You dress so beautifully,” Stalin said admiringly to his sister-in-law Zhenya Alliluyeva. “You should make designing your profession.”
“What! I can’t even sew a button,” retorted the giggling Zhenya. “All my buttons are sewn on by my daughter.”
“So? You should teach Soviet women how to dress!” retorted Stalin.
After Nadya’s death, Zhenya almost moved in to watch over Stalin. In 1934, it seems, this relationship grew into something more. Statuesque and blue-eyed, with wavy blond hair, dimples, an upturned nose and wide, beaming mouth, Zhenya, thirty-six, was a priest’s daughter from Novgorod. She was not beautiful but this “rose of the Novgorod fields,” with golden skin and her quick mischievous nature, radiated health. When she was pregnant with her daughter Kira, she split some logs just before giving birth. While Dora Khazan dressed in austere shifts and Voroshilova got fatter, Zhenya was still young, fresh and completely feminine in her frilly dresses, flamboyant collars and silk scarves.
These women found Stalin all the more appealing because he was so obviously lonely after Nadya’s and now Kirov’s death: “his loneliness is always on one’s mind,” wrote Maria Svanidze. If power itself is the great aphrodisiac, the addition of strength, loneliness and tragedy proved to be a heady cocktail. However, Zhenya was different. She had known Stalin since marrying Nadya’s brother, Pavel, around the time of the Revolution, but they had been abroad a lot and returned from Berlin just before the suicide. Then a fresh relationship developed between Stalin the widower and this funny, blithe woman. The marriage of Pavel and Zhenya had not been easy. Unsuited to military life, Pavel was gentle but hysterical like Nadya. Zhenya grumbled about his weakness. Their marriage had almost ended in the early thirties, when Stalin ordered them to stay together. Despite having given the pistol to Nadya, Pavel often stayed with Stalin.
77
Maria’s poem reveals both the devotion and cheekiness of Stalin’s female courtiers: “We wish much happiness to our Dear Leader and endless life. Let the enemies be scared off. Liquidate all Fascists… Next year, take the world under your sway, and rule all mankind. Shame the ladies can’t go West to Carlsbad. It’s all the same at Sochi.”