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At the end of July, their respective studies completed, the couple rented a modest cabin in the district of Tarusa, a popular country resort about seventy miles south of Moscow. Here, on the very edge of a forest, they spent their honeymoon. In spite of the idyllic surroundings, they spent little time exploring the local terrain. Instead, they preferred to stretch out comfortably in the shade of the birch trees, while Solzhenitsyn read aloud to his wife from Sergei Esenin’s poems or Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Then, of course, there was the mandatory studying, sometimes together but often separately. Solzhenitsyn was already preparing for the following term’s work at the MIFLI, leaving his wife to “fill up the gaps” in her own education.2

One of Solzhenitsyn’s principal preoccupations at the time was history, especially the reforms of Peter the Great. Surprisingly perhaps, considering his Marxist education, he found himself vehemently opposed to the “progress” engendered by Peter’s reforms. In his opposition to the former tsar, Solzhenitsyn was aware that he was out of step with the official Party line, which fully endorsed Peter’s “progressive” policies. He admitted this in his autobiographical poem The Way, when he confessed that his antipathy to Peter meant that “I’m a heretic.”3 Perhaps his “heretical” antipathy was a lasting legacy of his religious childhood; lovers of the old Russian way of life and the traditional forms of the Russian church, such as his own mother and his Aunt Irina, had never forgiven Peter for his brutal persecution of traditionalists.

Apart from this one minor heresy, Solzhenitsyn still prided himself on his orthodox Marxism. As Michael Scammell remarks, Solzhenitsyn “must be one of the few bridegrooms in history to have taken Das Kapital on his honeymoon (and to have read it)”.4 Awaking in the morning, Natalya would find the space in the bed beside her empty and would discover her husband on the veranda, his head buried in an annotated copy of Marx’s masterpiece. In The Way, Solzhenitsyn evoked his bride’s understandable perplexity at his neglect of her, but explained that he was powerless to resist Marx’s advances. He was a man possessed. He and his friends were “apostles… Bolsheviks…. And I? I believe to the marrow of my bones. I suffer no doubts, no hesitations—life is crystal clear to me.”5

Solzhenitsyn and Natalya stayed longer in Tarusa than they had originally intended, extending their honeymoon into the early autumn, when the forest was changing color. The beauty of their holiday hideaway had served to confirm Solzhenitsyn’s preference for the landscapes of central Russia over the drabness of the south, first awoken by the journey down the Volga the previous summer. He now felt that he had been born in the wrong place, but had found himself.

On the rail journey back to Rostov, he was confronted with an uncomfortable reminder of the less savory parts of the previous year’s trip down the Volga. Their train halted in a siding next to another that looked somehow odd. It was neither a passenger train like theirs nor a freight train. Peering through the window, Solzhenitsyn caught a glimpse of compartments crowded with shaven-headed troglodytes who looked as if they had come from a different planet. With deep-sunken eyes, distorted faces, and sub-human features, the alien creatures gazed back at him. The twenty-one-year-old looked away. A minute or so later, the train started again, and the aliens disappeared as silently as they had emerged. Little did the naive newlywed know it, but the trainload of convicts being transported from one labor camp to another were the ghosts of his own future.

Neither did he realize that the grim reality he had glimpsed so fleetingly from a train in the wilderness was also a lot closer to home, if only he had eyes to see. One fellow student called Tanya, with whom he had studied side by side at Rostov University for five years, kept hidden the tragedy in her own life at the time. Only fifty years later, when Solzhenitsyn returned to Rostov after his years in exile, did she reveal it to him. He had asked her nostalgically whether she remembered a particular class photograph being taken. “How could I not remember?” the old woman replied. “Just twenty days later, my father was arrested; and three days after that, my uncle.”6

The grim reality confronting many of his colleagues had no place in Solzhenitsyn’s own cosseted life during the autumn of 1940. As he began his last year at university, he found himself considerably better off than in previous years and much more prosperous than the vast majority of his fellow students. This was due to his being awarded one of the newly instituted Stalin scholarships for outstanding achievement. Only three of these were granted to the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics and only four more in the entire university. They carried a stipend two and a halftimes greater than the usual grant and were awarded not only for academic performance but also for social and political activism in the Komsomol. Solzhenitsyn qualified on both counts. He had straight 5s and continued to excel in his studies, but he was also a valued and trusted member of the Komsomol. He was, in fact, a model Soviet citizen.

His most notable achievement as a true son of the Revolution during his last year at university was his editorship of the students’ newspaper, which he transformed from a dull unread propaganda sheet, published only twice a year, into a vibrant and widely read weekly journal. This latest success ensured him a place of honor in the local party Komsomol, assuring him an easy transition to full Party membership, with all the privileges that went with it. In every respect, he appeared to be on the threshold of a brilliant career.

The improved financial situation meant that Solzhenitsyn and Natalya could afford to take up residence on their own, away from their families. They found a room on Chekhov Lane, which Natalya described as “small but comfortable, even though we had to put up with a cantankerous landlady”.7 Their new home was conveniently placed with respect to their families and, crucially, to Solzhenitsyn’s two favorite reading rooms. Natalya remembered that their first year of married life together, which was also destined to be their last for many years, was “busy beyond measure”. After an early breakfast, they would both depart for the university, or, if there were no classes, Solzhenitsyn would leave for the library while Natalya studied at home. They would meet for lunch at three o’clock at the home of one of Natalya’s relatives. At Solzhenitsyn’s insistence, lunch was served punctually so that he would not lose any study time, but if for any reason it was delayed, he would remove the homemade cards from his pocket and get his wife to test him. Then, lunch consumed, he would hurry off back to the library, where he would often stay until it closed at ten o’clock. Returning home, he frequently continued to study until two o’clock in the morning before finally collapsing into bed.

Only on Sundays did the couple allow themselves to lie in before going to the home of Solzhenitsyn’s mother for lunch. “She put all her talents, all her love into serving us the most delicious meals possible”, wrote Natalya. “The energy, the deftness, the speed with which she did everything, despite her illness (she had active tuberculosis), were amazing. Her speech was rapid-fire, just like her son’s, only interrupted by brief coughing spells; and she had the same mobile features.”8

Somewhere amidst the hectic schedule of his life, Solzhenitsyn managed to continue with his writing. During this period, he wrote a politically correct tale entitled “Mission Abroad”, completed in February 1941, whose hero was a Soviet diplomat cunningly outwitting bourgeois statesmen in Western Europe. He continued to write poetry, which found its way into the exercise books containing his Juvenile Verse. The fruits of his studies at the MIFLI found their way into another exercise book entitled Remarks on Dialectical Materialism and Art, and all the while he continued to plan his historical epic depicting the glorious triumph of the Revolution.