Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar

Nadya’s funeral), Stalin’s entourage gathered in the Hall of Columns. The funeral was an extravaganza of Bolshevik sentimental kitsch—with burning torches, scarlet velvet curtains and banners hanging all the way from the ceiling and more palm trees—and modern media frenzy, with a press pack snapping their cameras and arc lights illuminating the body as if it was a prop in a neon-lit theatre. The orchestra of the Bolshoi played the funeral marches. It was not only the Nazis who could lay on a brilliant funeral for their fallen knights; even the colours were the same: everything was red and black. Stalin had already declared Kirov his closest martyred comrade: his home town, Viatka, Leningrad’s Mariinsky Ballet and hundreds of streets were renamed “Kirov.”

The coffin rested on scarlet calico, the face “a greenish colour” with a blue bruise on his temple where he fell. Kirov’s widow sat with the sisters he had not seen or bothered to contact for thirty years. Redens, Moscow NKVD chief, escorted his pregnant wife, Anna Alliluyeva, and the Svanidzes to their places beside the Politburo wives. Silence fell. Only the click of the sentry’s boots echoed in the hall. Then Maria Svanidze heard the “footsteps of that group of tough and resolute eagles”: the Politburo took up position around the head of Kirov.

The Bolshoi orchestra broke into Chopin’s Funeral March. Afterwards, in the silence, there was the clicking and whirring of cine-cameras: Stalin, fingers together across his stomach, stood beside the swaggering Kaganovich, with a leather belt around the midriff of his bulging tunic. The guards began to screw on the coffin lid. But just like at Nadya’s funeral, Stalin dramatically stopped them by stepping up to the catafalque. With all eyes on his “sorrowful” face, he slowly bent down and kissed Kirov’s brow. “It was a heart-breaking sight, knowing how close they were” and the whole hall burst into audible weeping; even the men were openly sobbing.

“Goodbye dear friend, we’ll avenge you,” Stalin whispered to the corpse. He was becoming something of a connoisseur of funerals.

One by one the leaders wished Kirov adieu: a pale-faced Molotov, Zhdanov, Kaganovich leaned over but did not kiss Kirov, while Mikoyan placed his hand on the rim of the coffin and leaned in. Kirov’s wife collapsed and doctors had to give her valerian drops. For Stalin’s family, the loss of Kirov, “this completely charming person loved by all,” was linked to the death of Nadya because they knew he had “transferred all the pain and burden of loss” of his wife onto this dear friend.

The leaders left and the coffin was closed up and driven away to the crematorium where Pavel and Zhenya Alliluyev watched the casket disappear into the furnace. The Svanidzes and others returned to Voroshilov’s apartment in the Horse Guards, scene of Nadya’s last supper, for a late dinner. Molotov and the other magnates dined with Stalin at Kuntsevo.

Next morning, Stalin, in his old greatcoat and peaked cap, Voroshilov, Molotov and Kalinin carried the urn of ashes, cradled in an ornate mini– Classical temple the size of a coffin, piled high with flowers, across Red Square. There, a million workers stood in the freezing silence. Kaganovich spoke—another parallel with Nadya’s funeral, before trumpets blared out a salute, heads and banners were lowered, and that “perfect Bolshevik,” Sergo, placed the urn where it still rests in the Kremlin Wall. “I thought Kirich would bury me but it’s turned out the opposite,” he told his wife afterwards.¹⁰

The executions had already started: by 6 December, sixty-six “White Guardists” arrested for planning terrorist acts even before Kirov was assassinated were sentenced to death by the Supreme Court’s Military Collegium under the presidency of Vasily Ulrikh, a bullet-headed Baltic German nobleman who became Stalin’s hanging judge. Another twenty-eight were shot in Kiev. On the 8th, Nikolai Yezhov, accompanied by Agranov, returned to Moscow from Leningrad to report for three hours on their hunt for the “terrorists.”

Despite the tragedy and the dangerous signs that even Bolsheviks were soon to be shot for Kirov’s murder, the life of Stalin’s circle continued normally if sombrely. After the meeting with Yezhov, Molotov, Sergo, Kaganovich and Zhdanov dined with Stalin, Svetlana and Vasily, the Svanidzes and Alliluyevs at Stalin’s flat as usual on 8 December. Svetlana received presents to help her recover from the loss of her beloved “Second Secretary,” Kirov. Stalin “had got thinner, paler with a hidden look in his eyes. He suffers so much.” Maria Svanidze and Anna Alliluyeva bustled round Stalin. Alyosha Svanidze warned Maria to keep her distance. It was good advice but she did not take it because she thought he was just jealous of a relationship that possibly included an affair in the distant past. There was not enough food so Stalin called in Carolina Til and ordered her to rustle up more dinner. Stalin hardly ate. That night, he took Alyosha Svanidze, with Svetlana and Vasily, to spend the night at Kuntsevo while the others went on to Sergo’s flat.

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

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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