Natasha's Dance полностью

Akhmatova herself was being closely watched by the NKVD during 1935. Its agents followed her and photographed her visitors as they came in and out of the Fountain House, in preparation, as archives have now revealed, for her arrest.¹²⁷ Akhmatova was conscious of the danger she was in. After Lev's arrest she had burned a huge pile of her manuscripts in full expectation of another raid on the Punin apartment.¹²⁸ Like all communal blocks, the Fountain House was full of NKVD informants - not paid-up officials, but ordinary residents who were themselves afraid and wished to demonstrate their loyalty, or who bore a petty grudge against their neighbours or thought that by denouncing them they would get more living space. The cramped conditions of communal housing brought out the worst in those who suffered them. There were communal houses where everyone got along, but in general the reality of living together was a far cry from the communist ideal. Neighbours squabbled over personal property, foodstuffs that went missing from the shared kitchen, noisy lovers or music played at night, and, with everybody in a state of nervous paranoia, it did not take much for fights to turn into denunciations to the NKVD.

Lev was re-arrested in March 1938. For eight months he was held and tortured in Leningrad's Kresty jail, then sentenced to ten years' hard labour on the White Sea Canal in north-west Russia.* This was at the height of the Stalin Terror, when millions of people disappeared. For eight months Akhmatova went every day to join the long queues at the Kresty jail, now just one of Russia's many women waiting to hand in a letter or a parcel through a little window and, if it was accepted, to go away with joy at the knowledge that their loved one must be still alive. This was the background to her poetic cycle Requiem (written between 1935 and 1940; first published in Munich in 1963).

* The sentence was later changed to five years' labour in the gulag at Norilsk.

As Akhmatova explained in the short prose piece 'Instead of a Preface'

(1957)^:

In the terrible years of the Yezhov terror, I spent seventeen months in the prison lines of Leningrad. Once, someone 'recognized' me. Then a woman with bluish lips standing behind me, who, of course, had never heard me called by name before, woke up from the stupor to which everyone had succumbed and whispered in my ear (everyone spoke in whispers there):

'Can you describe this?'

And I answered, 'Yes I can.'

Then something that looked like a smile passed over what had once been her face.¹²'

In Requiem Akhmatova became the people's voice. The poem represented a decisive moment in her artistic evolution - the moment when the lyric poet of private experience became, in the words of Requiem, the 'mouth through which a hundred million scream'.¹³⁰ The poem is intensely personal. Yet it gives voice to an anguish felt by every person who had lost someone.

This was when the ones who smiled

Were the dead, glad to be at rest.

And like a useless appendage, Leningrad

Swung from its prisons.

And when, senseless from torment,

Regiments of convicts marched,

And the short songs of farewell

Were sung by locomotive whistles.

The stars of death stood above us

And innocent Russia writhed

Under bloody boots

And under the tyres of the Black Marias.¹³¹

This was when Akhmatova's decision to remain in Russia began to make sense. She had shared in her people's suffering. Her poem had become a monument to it - a dirge for the dead sung in whispered incantations among friends; and in some way it redeemed that suffering.

No, not under the vault of alien skies,

And not under the shelter of alien wings -

I was with my people then,

There, where my people, unfortunately, were.¹³²

Some time at the end of the 1940s Akhmatova was walking with Nadezhda Mandelstam in Leningrad when she suddenly remarked: 'To think that the best years of our life were during the war when so many people were being killed, when we were starving and my son was doing forced labour.'¹³³ For anyone who suffered from the Terror as she did, the Second World War must have come as a release. As Gordon says to Dudorov in the epilogue of Doctor Zhivago, 'When war broke out its real dangers and its menace of death were a blessing compared with the inhuman power of the lie, a relief because it broke the spell of the dead letter.'¹³⁴ People were allowed and had to act in ways that would have been unthinkable before the war. They organized themselves for civilian defence. By necessity, they spoke to one another without thinking of the consequences. From this spontaneous activity a new sense of nationhood emerged. As Pasternak would later write, the war was 'a period of vitality and in this sense an untrammelled, joyous restoration of the sense of community with everyone'.¹³⁵ His own wartime verse was full of feeling for this community, as if the struggle had stripped away the state to reveal the core of Russia's nationhood: