‘Yes, Tukhachevsky was the scion of an aristocratic family, studied music at the conservatoire, and he’d learned to make fiddles under Vitachek, the violins letter made Stalin absolutely furious, it was entirely about violins, reaction on the lines of ‘I don’t believe it, you couldn’t make it up’, vital not to pass him anything definite, leave him space to use his imagination, he is very good at imagining is comrade Iosif Vissarionovich, a terrible militaro-fascisto-trotsko-reactionary plot designed to help the Germans, Tukhachevsky is the link between Bukharin and Trotsky, he has met German generals in London where he also saw the son of Trotsky, Sedov, no, that’s not in the file manufactured by Heydrich, it would have been too obvious, Stalin himself said so, and better still Tukhachevsky admitted everything after one brief night in the Lubyanka.
‘He even admitted the link with the chiefs of the NKVD, what was the link? A woman! A German Mata Hari, a rival of Fraülein Doktor, a certain Josephine Guenzi, Stalin himself told the story, she enlisted these men “on the basis of a certain part of her feminine person”, a genuine piece of contemporary linguistic usage, and Stalin added something else in a very odd speech given before the military council of the Commissariat for Defence, June 1937.
‘He added, “she is beautiful, she responds to propositions from men and then she destroys them”, sounds like something out of the Old Testament, one day it will all come out, Josephine Guenzi doesn’t like soldiers, she doesn’t like Stalin, she doesn’t like Hitler, she doesn’t like men, she commutes between Moscow and Berlin, among Tukhachevsky’s papers they found an X-ray picture, an obscene image, profile of a woman’s face embracing a male member, no one knows what Josephine Guenzi is thinking, all you see is the outline of a female skull, and the man’s penis, a vanitas in the form of an X-ray, normally the penis does not show up, no bone, so some medical students’ prank, a montage, but the fake X-ray became one of the incriminating pieces of evidence, calling it into question would have been to call all the charges into question, and besides the erection was intended to make it absolutely obvious, things happened very quickly, no one dared say it was a physical impossibility, maybe Tukhachevsky kept the photo to have a laugh with his friends.
‘Or else it was one of Yezhov’s agents who put it among the general’s papers, the cops descended on Tukhachevsky, you’re for the drop soldier-boy, it seems they brought the Guenzi woman to see him, pleasing face, very sweet, like an Astrakhan doe, talk, we feel so very very sorry for you, the heart of a man is a box of secrets, we have all night to unlock that box, Guenzi was seen again at the time of the Ribbentrop-Molotov pact, such an innocent face, she disappeared somewhere into this immense world of ours, she knew a great many things, she knew how to hide the fact that she knew them, she was in love with everyone and everything, two or three of my colleagues ran into her before the war, she laughed like a child, all she thought of was loving and living, she must have watched Tukhachevsky die, you cannot share the death of another person, to relax she read romantic novelettes of an evening, the kind where the heroine gets into a hot bath to await the coming of her lover.
‘The whole business is hard to swallow, on the one hand a plot at the very top, and on the other a plot that doesn’t work and is uncovered before it’s got going properly, the explanation given by Stalin — and you don’t label yourself “a leading light of science” for nothing — was that the plot at the top could not have any roots at the bottom because “the USSR whose agriculture is now prospering is experiencing tremendous success on all fronts”, the whole of the Soviet general staff decimated.
‘No, decimated means that one in ten is eliminated, whereas then it was hardly one in ten who survived, and they weren’t just any old victims, but technicians, modernisers, experts with advanced knowledge of field warfare, armoured vehicles and rockets, people from research institutes, and specialists from Germany working with the NKVD, they all disappeared in 1937, it took just one night for Tukhachevsky to confess, and it had all begun with a fake plot dreamed up by Heydrich in which Stalin developed an absolutely unshakeable belief on account of the violins, because appearances belong to those who look at them, that’s what held the English back later, when they were told that parts of their espionage and counterespionage services were in the pay of Moscow, they thought they were being set up for a Tukhachevsky-style hoax.’
Chapter 8. 1965, The Locomotive and the Kangaroo
In which it is noticeable to what extent the Riff war is an obsession for Max Goffard.
In which Lilstein tells you the story of Selifane the coachman and asks you to continue thinking your own thoughts.
In which we are introduced to cyanide and soft-centred chocolates.
In which Lilstein attempts to translate for you what he understands by the word Menschheit.
In which the conversation between Max Goffard and his author takes a disagreeable turn.
In which de Vèze decides to play footsie under the table with the woman opposite him at the dinner table.
Novels are not serious; what is serious is mythomania.
Singapore, July 1965
On the veranda the woman in the yellow dress has finished reciting, no one feels like talking, swallows swoop, sickles, down to grass-level, they shriek, wheel back up into the sky, waiters whisk away the empty plates, bring leg of mutton, flageolet beans, Beaujolais, the Consul indicates that the pink diplomat will taste the wine, he’s our expert gourmet, he’s very much in demand in the diplomatic colony, he even advises the Russians, it’s his area of excellence, along with opera, old recordings.
The pink diplomat tastes the wine, reports to the Consul that his Beaujolais is excellent, he does not believe a word he says, a tightwad’s god-awful rotgut, just what’s needed to go with your leg of mutton, you pretentious careerist, these young Chinese waiters are rather alarming, any minute now one of them is going to drop food all over me, Xavier would blow his top, that said they seem nimble enough, how old do you suppose they are? Never seen them before, are they Consulate staff? Or were they brought in? Whom can I ask? That young woman is good value, just talks but she’s upstaging old Goffard and the hero of Bir Hakeim, and given half a chance Malraux would make a play for her, look at the expression on the face of the hero of Bir Hakeim.
Before the War, de Vèze wouldn’t have cared at all for her way of reciting, too neutral, anyway the death of Kyo isn’t a number for women, but her voice is good, simple, she pronounces the syllables clearly, she looks quite attractive when she recites, no histrionics, she just speaks it, very simply, lips neither too big nor too small, everyone’s looking at her, even Malraux, she’s no flirt, but does she know what comes next? Goffard could continue where she leaves off, I’ve had enough, why didn’t they all shut up? The moment was mine, to think I came all the way from Rangoon for this!
Malraux looks at the young woman, his look is an encouragement, elbows on the table, his hands clasped on a level with his nose, just the eyes can be seen, the puckering of the crow’s feet, silver cuff-links. The young woman resumes, voice very steady, ‘how, with the glance of death upon him, was it possible not to hear the murmur of human sacrifice…’ her husband looks surprised that she should know this by heart, ‘… which cried out to him that the virile heart of men…’ the hero of Bir Hakeim is just like the rest of them, he will like my voice, but it’s too late, ‘… is a resting place for the dead as worthy as the mind of man…’ that beauty spot on her breast looks like a chocolate chip, this time the young woman falls silent, a chocolate chip on lightly baked, warm brioche.