Without Lifting A Finger

3 December 1939.  From the sanatorium at Barvikha to Moscow To his sister Yelena Dear Lyolya! Here is some news of me. A considerable improvement has been observed in my left eye. The right eye is lagging behind, but also seems to be trying to do something useful. According to the doctor it turns out that if there is an improvement in the eyes, that means there is an improvement in the functioning of the kidneys. And if that’s the case, then I feel a new hope stirring in me that on this occasion I will get away from the old crone with the scythe and finish one or two things that I would like to finish.

12 February 1937  This is M. A. ’s sore point: ‘I am a prisoner … they’ll never let me out of here … I’ll never see the world … ’ [ … ] M. A. is in a dreadful state. ‘They won’t perform me at home, while abroad they rob me.’

30 October 1935  During the day there was a ring at our door. I went out and there was Akhmatova with such a dreadful face, and so much thinner, that I scarcely recognized her; nor did Misha. It turned out that in one and the same night both her husband (Punin) and her son (Gumilyov) had been arrested. She had come to deliver a letter to Yosif Vissarionovich [Stalin]. She was quite clearly in a confused state and was muttering things to herself.

24 September 1935  Grisha [Konsky]. In the evening, at his request, Misha read him the first three chapters of the novel [The Master and Margarita]. They produced a quite extraordinary effect on Grisha, and I think he wasn’t shamming. I wept.

A demon has taken hold of me. In Leningrad and now here, as I suffocate in these little rooms, I have begun to scribble down all over again page after page of that novel I destroyed three years ago. Why? I don’t know. I’m just amusing myself. Let it fall into the river Lethe! Anyway, I will probably put it down again soon.