Shelepina started by calling him ‘comrade Trotsky’ but this only made him laugh, so they addressed each other with conventional politeness as ‘Yevgenia Petrovna’ and ‘Lev Davidovich’. She smartened up Trotsky’s room and requisitioned a functioning typewriter to replace the antique machine on his desk.4
He was still in the habit of writing all his letters in longhand,5 and she wanted to relieve him of this. Since she had not been trained in shorthand, he arranged to dictate on to a phonograph; but he could not get on with this contraption and they reverted to amateurish methods. Shelepina was thrilled at being involved in the work.6
Trotsky wrote frequently to the Petrograd embassies stressing that Sovnarkom was the real power in Russia and deserved official recognition. This was vital if the Bolsheviks were to break down the obstacles to international communication. He had to admit that any diplomatic relations would be of an unusual kind since the Bolsheviks remained open enemies of every state in the world. He insisted that he aimed to have such relations not only with governments but also with ‘socialist-revolutionary parties that are thrusting themselves at overthrowing the existing governments’.7 At the same time he was determined to prevent Allied diplomats from interfering in Russian politics. When he thought that the British embassy was helping the anti-Soviet efforts of Boris Savinkov, he threatened to arrest Sir George Buchanan — if only in conversation with Sadoul.8 He refused to see a contradiction between demanding official recognition and encouraging worldwide subversion.9 Only the Spanish embassy would parley with Trotsky, and its charge´ d’affaires Garrido Cisneros welcomed the Soviet proposal for an armistice and peace negotiations. The rest of the diplomatic corps expressed outrage. But Spain was taking no part in the war and, although Cisneros had blotted his copybook in Allied eyes, nothing of practical consequence resulted.10
Routine work at the People’s Commissariat — in the old Ministry of Foreign Affairs building — was done by Trotsky’s deputy Ivan Zalkind. Zalkind’s professional qualifications were no better than Trotsky’s, but his science doctorate from Algiers University meant that he had fluent French.11 He was even brusquer than the average Bolshevik. France’s diplomats thought that he had a particular dislike for them,12 but he was just as aggressive to every other nationality and seemed to make trouble just for the sake of it. Skinny, myopic, with long silvery hair, he was puny in appearance; British agent George Hill, with no attempt at impartiality, described him as ‘a most unpleasant hunchback with the viciousness of a rat’.13 Zalkind compensated by adopting a quasi-military uniform and contriving to look bold and combative.14 (The sporting of military apparel was a growing trend among Bolsheviks: Party Central Committee Secretary Yakov Sverdlov had a black leather jacket and trousers tailored for him and bought a pair of long black boots and a black leather cap.)
Trotsky and Zalkind set up a Bureau of International Revolutionary Propaganda for the Commissariat under Boris Reinstein, one of the revolutionaries who had returned from America; and John Reed and Albert Rhys Williams were taken on to the staff to bring ‘American advertising psychology’ to the publications directed at the troops of the Central Powers. There was also a Department of Prisoners-of-War, led by Radek, as well as a Department of the Press. These bodies produced material in German, Hungarian and Romanian.15 Reed, Rhys Williams and others were paid about $50–$60 a month.16 The Propaganda Bureau printed tons of material for dispatch across the trenches of the eastern front. Half a million copies of the German daily newspaper Die Fackel (later called Der Völkfried) were printed. The Hungarian print run was the same, while there were a quarter of a million copies each of the Czech, Romanian and Turkish versions.17 Even Rhys Williams helped out with Die Fackel despite his primitive grasp of German. He and Reed had little Russian but they possessed all the skills needed to sub-edit English translations of Soviet announcements.18 The Decree on Peace was hurriedly translated into German, French and English. Yakov Peters, the Latvian who oversaw the work, admitted that his own fluency in English and even Russian was inadequate — and Reinstein, Reed and Rhys Williams became as active in the Bolshevik cause as it was possible to be without joining the Bolshevik party.19
Allied diplomats tried to make sense of all this for their governments. On 19 November 1917 the American ambassador David Francis issued an appeal to ‘the People of Russia’: ‘I address you because there is no official in the Foreign Office with whom I can communicate, and all of the members of the government or ministry with which I had official relations are inaccessible, being in flight or in prison, according to my best information.’20 He emphasized that the US had signed no secret treaties and he repeated President Wilson’s hope of preserving good relations with Russia.21 On 27 November Sir George Buchanan fired off a telegram saying that it was unrealistic to expect the beaten and exhausted Russians to stay in the war. He proposed a change of policy. Russia should be released from its contractual obligations to keep up the fight on the eastern front. Buchanan argued that this would make a rapprochement between Russia and Germany less likely and might even induce the Russians to continue other kinds of resistance to the Germans.22 He did not recommend recognition for Sovnarkom. The Bolsheviks were not to be allowed privileges until their policies changed. But talks had to be held with them. Buchanan advocated using informal intermediaries for this purpose, and the Foreign Secretary A. J. Balfour agreed.23
The Petrograd ambassadors have a reputation for being stupid old fogeys who lacked the intellectual and cultural depth to understand Soviet communism. Although some were indeed fogeyish and a couple were elderly, none was unintelligent. They thought seriously about Bolshevism as they witnessed it. Italy’s Marchese della Torretta knew about the breakdown of order from direct experience after being robbed late at night on his way back to the Hôtel de l’Europe.24 Leading diplomats, whether they represented the Allies or neutral countries, expressed revulsion at the end to civilities they had thought they could take for granted in Russia. They understood what Lenin and Trotsky wanted to do in the world. They saw from the start that religion, nationhood, civil peace, legality and civic freedoms were under threat. They observed for themselves how ‘the dictatorship of the proletariat’ brought about state terror. They came from a different world, and they preferred their world, warts and all.
Sovnarkom, however, had kept hold of some bargaining chips. On 28 November Trotsky sent a note to Buchanan saying that if the United Kingdom continued to imprison Chicherin and Petrov, British citizens conducting counter-revolutionary propaganda in Russia would not go unpunished. In gaol, Chicherin had cut his ties with the Mensheviks and become a Bolshevik. He announced that he would return to Russia only ‘as a free man’. He hired a lawyer. He demanded that he should be allowed visits by Joseph King MP; he intimated that he had personal friends including Consul-General Onou in the Russian embassy. He sent demands for the Mensheviks to repay the money he had lent them in the past — and he expressed the wish that his associates should buy him marmalade and golden syrup to supplement the poor prison diet.25 Consul-General Onou flatly refused to help. He thought there were ‘already enough dangerous madmen in Russia’ and did not want to add to the number.26 Chicherin hated having to rise early in the morning. He complained often about the injustice being done to him; but as the weeks passed he repeated that he would strenuously object to being released if the plan was to deport him straight away. When he left Brixton prison, he intended put his affairs in order before moving on to Russia.27
The cabinet in London at first refused to yield to Trotsky’s intimidation even though there seemed no national interest in holding on to Chicherin or bringing him to trial.28 When Buchanan made no reply to Trotsky, the People’s Commissariat indicated that exit visas from Russia would no longer be issued to British subjects, including diplomats; Trotsky also threatened to take ‘counter-revolutionaries’ from Britain into custody.29 When in mid-December Trotsky demanded an interview with Noulens it was difficult to refuse him after he threatened that
otherwise he would expel the military mission.30 Trotsky complained that France had sent agents to talk to the Central Rada in Kiev. Noulens replied that the French initiative was simply a reaction to Ukrainian national independence and that the Bolsheviks themselves had decreed the right of non-Russians to secede from the old multinational state. That the current governments in Petrograd and Kiev were enemies was not the fault of the French. Noulens added that the military mission had been instructed to avoid interference in Ukrainian politics and to stay out of the Russo-Ukrainian conflict.31
Lloyd George and Balfour soon yielded on the treatment of Chicherin and Petrov, and Buchanan relayed the news to the Soviet authorities. Trotsky exulted: ‘Sir Buchanan [sic] is a practical man with whom one can come to an understanding.’32 By the end of the month Buchanan had also conceded Sovnarkom’s freedom to send its couriers without hindrance to London.33 The British government edged towards putting Anglo-Russian relations on a fresh footing.
On 21 December the War Cabinet approved a memorandum on the Russian question for consultation with the French. Buchanan’s request for sick leave for his vertigo was to be granted, and Sir Francis Lindley would become chargé d’affaires in Petrograd.34 The ambassador’s departure was desirable on political as well as medical grounds: he was too closely associated in the Bolshevik mind with the Kadets to be able to liaise with Sovnarkom. ‘Unofficial agents’ would be used to conduct relations. British diplomacy should emphasize that the United Kingdom would not meddle in Russia’s internal politics or favour a counter-revolution. The Foreign Office would not even highlight its displeasure at Russia opening negotiations with the Central Powers. But the British reserved the right to stay in contact with Ukraine and other parts of the former empire not ruled by the Bolsheviks. Balfour’s idea was for France to take care of Ukraine while Britain busied itself with the other borderlands. He stressed the priority of facilitating the transport of Ukrainian supplies to Romania, and he wanted the Bolsheviks to accept the need to prevent foodstuffs and munitions reaching Germany from its territory.35 The French welcomed the memorandum two days later.36
Every Allied embassy made use of unofficial agents. David Francis turned to Raymond Robins of the Red Cross as his intermediary with the Soviet leadership. Robins had friendly links with the Smolny Institute. He thought it was in the American interest to come to some kind of accommodation with Lenin and Trotsky — and he hoped to make an impact in Washington by influencing what went into Francis’s reports.37 Trotsky felt that he could exploit Robins and encouraged him to get himself appointed to the American Railway Mission to Russia. The restoration of the rail network to a normal working pattern was a priority for the Bolsheviks. If the Americans assisted in this, Trotsky promised to enable the transit of Allied military stocks currently held in Russian warehouses; he told Robins he would make him Assistant Superintendent of Russian Ways and Communications.38 Truly the People’s Commissar would do whatever it took to get the results he wanted. He let Red Cross trains run down to Iasi inside the Romanian sector of the eastern front. He also issued a prohibition on the growing export of Russia’s copper and other goods to Germany via Finland.39
Sovnarkom was being devious. While seeking to keep the Allies sweet, it was anxious to avoid any trouble with the Germans. In the night of 28–29 December, something extraordinary happened, something which had barely seemed possible a few weeks earlier: the German and Austrian diplomatic contingent arrived in Petrograd.
There were two delegations — one stopped at the Hotel Bristol on the Moika and was headed by Rear-Admiral Count Kaiserling and Count von Mirbach… This committee was known as the Naval Delegation and their mission was to discuss means of stopping the naval war in accordance with the armistice treaty. The second delegation was headed by Count Berchtold, German Red Cross representative, and met to consider the exchange of war prisoners. They established themselves at the Grand and the Angleterre. British and French officers were stopping at both these places, which was obviously embarrassing.40
The contingent was sixty strong; the Central Powers meant serious business in Petrograd.41
This turnabout was the product of the recent military truce and the opening of peace negotiations at Brest-Litovsk near the eastern front. The Soviet authorities knew about it in advance but everyone else in Petrograd was taken by surprise; and every attempt by the Bolsheviks to lessen the impact was ineffective. The Germans ignored their request that they should remain in their residences. They enjoyed causing embarrassment and openly walked the streets of the capital, renewing old contacts in high banking and industrial circles.42
Mirbach’s previous posting was as Germany’s ambassador in Rome. After obtaining a degree at Heidelberg, he had proceeded to a study course in Oxford. Generations of his family had served the Hohenzollerns.43 Mirbach wore formal attire when presenting himself at the People’s Commissariat of Foreign Affairs:
‘Hello!’ [Zalkind] said, ‘what are you doing here?’ The count was abashed. ‘Why, I am just returning your call,’ he said stiffly. Zalkind was amused. ‘Excuse me, Count,’ he said, ‘we are revolutionists and we don’t recognise ceremony. You might have saved yourself the trouble if you had remembered that you are in New Russia.’ He thought a minute. ‘But you can come in,’ he added, ‘and have a glass of tea.’ Von Mirbach did not accept the invitation. He looked down at Zalkind’s rough clothes, his rumpled grey hair and his inspired face. Very awkwardly he got himself out of the alien atmosphere of the [People’s Commissariat].44
The German delegation obdurately affirmed the ways of traditional diplomacy; and when Karl Radek tried to complain about the treatment of far-left socialists in Germany, Mirbach cut him short: German politics was none of Radek’s business.45
The Allied embassies refused to have anything to do with the German diplomats. Ambassador Francis became dean of the corps with Buchanan’s departure on 7 January 1918.46 Early that same month a group of anarchists arrived from Helsinki to speak with him. They protested about the imprisonment of their American comrades Alexander Berkman and Emma Goldman and about the projected execution of a San Francisco bomb-thrower. The anarchists threatened to hold Francis personally responsible if any harm came to these comrades. Francis urged Washington to take no notice.47 (He suspected that John Reed had provided the information about Berkman and Goldman.)48 A few days later Zalkind, while passing on a similar threat on behalf of Petrograd anarchists, declined to offer protection for the embassy. Francis asked Robins to intercede with Lenin. Although Zalkind refused to apologize, the contretemps was ended by his replacement by Chicherin, who had just arrived from England.49
Sovnarkom still needed to neutralize the threat of a German invasion while avoiding causing undue offence to the Western Allies. But the communist leaders also aimed to make revolution. They were not always prudent in how they went about this. Russia still had a large number of troops stationed on Romanian territory, and Lenin and Trotsky saw the opportunity to get its agitators to spread the Russian anti-war spirit to the Romanian troops. They hoped that this might lead to revolutionary stirrings. Romania’s Prime Minister Ionel Bratianu had no intention of letting the Bolsheviks dissolve his army from within. Pushed by Germany’s continuing military operations, he was determined to preserve what little power remained to his government in its rump independent territory around Iasi. Lenin and Trotsky saw things from an opposite viewpoint. They were angered by the encroachment of Bratianu’s Romanian Army into Russian-ruled but Romanian-inhabited Bessarabia to form a new Moldavian state.50 Sporadic violence broke out between Russian and Romanian units, and Romania’s beleaguered authorities responded by arresting five thousand Russians on service near Botosani.
The Soviet government was in no mood to tread carefully. Every untoward event near the borders could be the beginning of an invasion. Sovnarkom always suspected the worst — and it was often proved right in these years. Soviet retaliation in this instance was an act unprecedented in modern diplomacy. On 13 Ja
nuary Red troops were ordered into the Romanian embassy in Petrograd to arrest the ambassador Constantin Diamandy and his staff.51
Diamandy’s detention outraged the Petrograd diplomatic corps. When a Russian mob had looted the German embassy at the start of the war, Nicholas II’s government had restored order and shielded the ambassador from harm.52 The Romanian imbroglio was of a different order. If an accredited diplomat could be thrown into prison, was any foreigner safe in Russia under the Bolsheviks? Were not Lenin and Trotsky the barbarians of global politics? Diplomats in Russia aimed to make them appreciate the importance of centuries-old international convention and law while Sovnarkom met to discuss what to do next.53 Francis made the arrangements by phone and the corps went en masse to see Lenin, who was accompanied by Zalkind. Lenin and Zalkind concentrated on the rights and wrongs of the incident in Botosani.54 Francis strenuously objected: ‘No discussion on the subject whatever.’ He pointed out that every diplomat’s person was inviolable. Noulens pitched in and prolonged the discussion, which went on for an hour and a half. Or at least this was how Francis recalled the event. Noulens remembered it differently and said that it was previously agreed that his own superior legal understanding as well as his native fluency in French made it sensible for him to give a lengthy exposition of the scandal that would fall upon the heads of the Bolsheviks if they refused to back down.
When the Belgian minister Désirée tried to join in, Zalkind told him to be quiet. Lenin agreed to put the matter to Sovnarkom, but this failed to stop Serbia’s Ambassador Spalajkovic pointing his finger a yard from Lenin’s face and shouting: ‘You are bandits; you dishonour the Slav race and I spit in your face!’55 Noulens sprang up to calm things down but Zalkind said: ‘Forget it, forget it, Mr Ambassador, we like this brutality of expression better than diplomatic language!’ Negotiations were resumed that evening and Noulens visited Diamandy next day in his underground cell in the Peter-Paul Fortress. The food was foul and Diamandy had not been allowed a knife to cut it. But the final result was positive and Diamandy was released on condition that he speedily left the country.56 Zalkind made mischief by publicly implying that Francis had consented to Diamandy’s incarceration.57 The fragility of dealings between the Bolsheviks and the Western Allies was revealed all too clearly. Each side wanted more than the other was willing to concede. And the communist authorities were willing to risk rupturing relations with the Allied powers. They were pushing their luck while simultaneously dreading the prospect that one side or another in the Great War might somehow contrive to organize an invasion. Sovnarkom was minded to bite before being bitten even though its own teeth were worn down to the gums.
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