Sometime later – in 1935, I believe – Wilson moved from the Board of Trade to 10, Downing Street, where he became Baldwin’s economic adviser. However, right up until Baldwin’s resignation at the end of May 1937, Wilson remained in the shadows, playing no particular role and attracting no particular attention. The situation changed dramatically when Chamberlain came to power. I do not know how and why it happened, but the new prime minister discerned a kindred soul in Wilson, and his rapid, dizzying ascent began: first he was promoted from economic adviser to Chamberlain’s chief secretary and, soon after, to chief adviser – and mainly on international affairs! The Foreign Office was incensed but could do nothing. Wilson played a major part in Eden’s resignation, and someone told me that the last conversation between Eden and Wilson, which took place a few days before 20 February, was a very stormy affair.

Today Wilson and I had lunch tête-à-tête. We spoke, of course, about international affairs. I advanced and substantiated the thought that Hitler’s immediate objective was to set up a ‘Mitteleuropa’ and that Chamberlain’s policy only facilitated his attainment of this aim. Meanwhile, ‘Mitteleuropa’ would, it seems, threaten the interests not only of the USSR, but also, and perhaps to an even greater extent, of Britain.

In a subtle but perfectly clear manner, Wilson suggested that Hitler’s next blow after ‘Mitteleuropa’ would be directed eastward, against the USSR, and this would accord with British interests. I ridiculed these suppositions, drawing on approximately the same arguments I had used in my recent conversation with Churchill. They seemed to hit the mark. Wilson immediately became hesitant and pensive. After a brief silence, he said: ‘I confess that your considerations have a sound basis. There is a possibility that Hitler may not move eastward. Still I am not inclined to think that even in this case “Mitteleuropa” would pose such a terrible threat to Britain. You see, today Germany is a monolith: one nation, one state, one leader. That is her strength. “Mitteleuropa” will be different: a conglomerate of nationalities, state organizations, and economic regions. Internal contradictions, friction, struggles and conflicts are inevitable. All these mitigating factors shall certainly come into play. As a result, “Mitteleuropa” may prove weaker than present-day Germany. And I have no doubt that it will be less aggressive. Germany’s empty stomach will be filled. She will grow heavy and calm down…’

So this is what Wilson’s, or for that matter Chamberlain’s, ‘philosophy’ amounts to!

Maisky’s report to Narkomindel, which took exception to the idea of isolation, went to great lengths to stress Wilson’s vow that Chamberlain harboured no animosity towards the Soviet Union. He suggested that the hesitation in approaching the Soviet Union might

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reflect a concern over Soviet ‘passivity’ and ‘scepticism’ about her offensive capabilities; DVP, 1938, XXI, doc. 172.

By the same token, in a report to Narkomindel, Maisky highlighted ‘the Soviet demonstration’ by Chamberlain, who, at the royal reception on 11 May, made a point of approaching him and of displaying interest in his vacation plans, allegedly eager to find out when he could be expected back in London. The unusual approach, Maisky hastened to add, was well covered by journalists, who had been ringing the embassy since the early hours of the morning.

DVP, 1938, XXI, doc. 174, 11 May 1938.

At the same time, Maisky had to project a sense of complacency, in order to dispel rumours of his permanent recall, insisting that he was ‘on the best of terms with his own government’.

Conversations with Lloyd George and Beaverbrook on 9 and 12 May, respectively, quoted in DVP, 1938, XXI, p. 713, fn. 65; Webb, diary, 16 May 1938, p. 6478; Aster, ‘Ivan Maisky and parliamentary anti-appeasement’, pp. 323–4.

A ray of hope for Maisky was Stalin’s unusual personal approach to him on 12 May. Obviously not trusting the embassy in Tokyo or Narkomindel, Stalin instructed Maisky ‘not to avoid’ meeting the Japanese ambassador in London and to try and glean from him what the Japanese intentions were, as well as to convey the Soviet wish to improve relations with Tokyo. Maisky not only obliged, but also transmitted the ambassador’s suggestion that further negotiations be pursued in London, emphasizing his own invaluable position in the British capital.

DVP, 1938, XXI, docs. 180 & 188 & fn. 70, Exchanges between Stalin and Maisky, 14, 17 & 18 May 1938.

However, the probability of a recall was very much on Maisky’s mind. Taking her leave of the Webbs, Agniya, for instance, revealed her determination ‘to have six months in the USSR, to regain her contact with her beloved country; she dislikes her life in the hostile atmosphere of the London society’.

RAN f.1702 op.4 d.143 ll.64–5, 26 April 1938.

It was Agniya who, despite being ‘a poor sailor’, was eager for them to travel by steamboat via Leningrad, and she also hoped to entice Litvinov to join them. The pretext was the recent birth of Maisky’s first grandson to his daughter in Leningrad. But perhaps as significant was the opportunity for Maisky and Litvinov to continue the talks Maisky had initiated in Geneva on their future during the five-day uninterrupted sea voyage. Uncertain about what lay ahead, the Maiskys had hastily bought new furniture for their Moscow flat, and they hoped to ship it at the same time. The cruise would also have provided some sense of security, as they would arrive at Narkomindel accompanied by the commissar in person.

RAN f.1702 op.4 d.143 ll.64–5, Personal letter from Maisky to Litvinov, 26 April 1938.

Litvinov was ‘most tempted’, but, unable to get there in time, he proposed that they travel together by the Nord-Express from Paris.

RAN f.1702 d.546. l.47, 9 May 1938.

Litvinov further explained to the wife and daughter of the ambassador in Italy, Shtein, who were pleading with him to allow the ambassador to return to Moscow for a vacation, that it was ‘better for him to sit in Rome than to be here’. Shtein, whose nerves were cracking, was advised by a private doctor he saw in Geneva to let off steam by ‘destroying a dinner service once a month, powerfully and angrily crashing it on the floor’.

Z. Sheinis, ‘Sud’ba diplomata, shtrikhi k portretu Borisa Shteina’, in Arkhivy raskryvayut tainy… (Moscow, 1991), p. 301.

Kollontay, who was recalled at the same time, wrote a morbid farewell letter – practically a will – to an intimate friend, entrusting her with her diary and personal correspondence ‘in the event of my death (something can always happen while travelling)’. She instructed her friend to deposit the papers in the archives of the International Labour Organization in Geneva, ‘in case you do not hear anything from me in the coming years, or you are certain that I am no longer alive’.

Ada Nilsson papers, 21 July 1938.

She then confided in her diary: ‘The world is now so terrible, tense. It is frightful for many friends. I worry, my heart is torn for them … If I don’t fall “underneath the wheel [of history]” it will be almost a miracle.’

Quoted in the fascinating work by Farnsworth, ‘Conversing with Stalin’.

Unlike his previous vacations, which had been spent in the Caucasus and travelling all over the country, this time Maisky was confined to a sanatorium outside Moscow, surrounded, as he tried to impress his friends in England, by ‘beautiful and most invigorating pinewoods’ – but from where he could obviously be summoned at any moment to the capital. His unenviable position was rendered particularly dire when the Sunday Express chose now of all times to harp on his ‘unpopularity with the Soviet rulers’, alleging that he had ‘refused for many months to obey orders to return to Russia’.

RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1074 l.1, Maisky to Bernard Pares, 9 Aug. 1938. Counting on their ‘good personal relationship’, Maisky strongly urged Beaverbrook, upon his return, to refrain from such publications, dismissing the idea of the OGPU surveillance as ‘fantastic nonsense’. Likewise, he had to constantly deny rumours suggesting that Ivy Litvinov’s reclusiveness in Sverdlovsk was in fact incarceration; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.854 ll.6–9, 22 Aug. 1938.

This was not too far from the truth. Maisky was indeed summoned to Narkomindel and forced to compose a confessional autobiographical sketch, in which he admitted to political short-sightedness and failure to recognize the ‘enemies of the people’ within his embassy. He was confronted with testimonies extracted from his former subordinates, Putna, the military attaché at the embassy, and Ozersky, the head of the trade delegation in London. Both had given compromising evidence against him before being shot. Together with Litvinov, he was then rushed to the Kremlin on 1 June, where, in the presence of Molotov and Voroshilov, Stalin urged them to keep a low profile in the future and act prudently. Consequently, he was let out ‘on parole’, well aware of the vulnerability of his situation.

Bilainkin, Maisky, p. 204–5. Myasnikov, ‘Sud’ba intelligenta v Rossii’, in Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, I, pp. 5–23; Istoricheskii arkhiv, 4 (1998), p. 112.

Maisky and Agniya returned to London at the end of July, having spent a few days in Stockholm, recuperating in the company of Kollontay. Obviously relieved, they projected a feeling of being ‘jolly and well … at once exceptionally self-confident and self-assured about their beloved country and cool and cautious about the rest of the world’. Maisky did not conceal from the Webbs the Kremlin’s ‘coldness towards Great Britain, hatred of Chamberlain as their enemy, concern about Czech-Slovakia and coolness towards the present French Government’. While admitting that, given the international situation, the Soviet Union preferred to ‘keep out of a European war’, Maisky reaffirmed that it would remain ‘loyal to its pact’. In further candid talks with Harold Nicolson and Vansittart, Maisky again warned of ‘the incipient movement towards isolation in Russia’, which he attributed to the West’s intention of keeping Russia ‘at arm’s length’, but which ‘he hoped would not go too far’. He vowed, though, as he had done at his meeting with Halifax a few days earlier, that ‘If France and Great Britain, in the event of an invasion of Sudetenland, came to the armed support of Czechoslovakia Russia would come in on our side.’

TNA FO 371 21731 C8433/1941/18, 17 Aug. 22289 N4317/97/38, 29 Aug. 1938; Nicolson, Diaries, 22 & 26 July 1938, pp. 356, 358. Maisky was enticing the British to action, but his reports to Moscow, urgently seeking instructions concerning Soviet policy towards Czechoslovakia, indicate that, like Litvinov, he was still kept in the dark; see DVP, 1938, XXII, doc. 318, 28 Aug. 1938.

Maisky had obviously become convinced that his personal salvation lay in the success of collective security. With Litvinov increasingly hamstrung by the vacillating and sceptical attitude of the Kremlin, and further crippled by the purges in his ministry, Maisky would henceforth become the main driving force in trying to bring about a change in British policy. This he hoped to achieve by resorting to unconventional methods. Throughout the following year, sharp discrepancies between his reports to Moscow and the British records, as well as his misleading and tendentious memoirs, reveal painstaking efforts on his part to attribute his own ideas to his interlocutors. In so doing, he hoped to elicit from Moscow a positive response, which might spark a chain reaction that would advance the ideas of collective security and extricate the Soviet Union from its increasingly forced isolation.