The year is 1941...
Illustration
The year is 1941, and Hitler's armies are on the march. The Nazi advance is heading, with astonishing speed, toward the city of Leningrad -- now called, once again, by its historic name, St. Petersburg.
Knowing the Nazis were on their way, and fearing what would happen if the city fell, the staff of the famous Hermitage Museum worked around the clock to pack up the priceless paintings and sculptures, and move them to a place of safety. On July 1, the director of the museum stood weeping at the railroad station as three trains, loaded with the treasures of the Hermitage, prepared to leave for the Russian heartland. Not even the conductors knew the final, secret destination of those railway cars.
The third train never left. Hitler's forces had by then closed the circle around the city. Two and a half million people were trapped there, under appalling conditions of hunger and deprivation.
Knowing how important it was for the citizens of Leningrad to have some diversion, the museum staff kept their palatial building open to visitors. Only minor works remained on display, but the building itself was a work of art. Maybe as the beleaguered city-dwellers walked through its half-empty halls, gazing at so many empty frames, they might remember what once had been, and would be led to hope for its return.
The day came when even the Hermitage building itself came to be at risk. Bombs falling nearby shattered the windows. Heavy snows drifted in, soaking the once-elegant parquet floors. The museum staff enlisted Russian soldiers to shovel up the mixture of snow and glass, take it out bucket by bucket, and install new windows to protect the building.
There was no material way to thank the soldiers for what they'd done. But then a longtime Hermitage guide, by the name of Pavel Dubchevski, had an idea. He offered to give the soldiers a highly unusual museum tour.
Dubchevski led the hollow-eyed, starving men, clad in their ragged uniforms, through the cavernous halls of the museum. So many picture frames hung empty on the walls, but the guide paused at each one, describing to the soldiers the painting that used to hang there. Later, the soldiers would recall that Dubchevski's descriptions were so vivid and powerful that they almost felt they could see the world-famous art treasures.
Pavel Dubchevski, the Hermitage Museum guide, was filling a role that day very much like that of a prophet. He brought his gifts of imagination to bear -- and created for those who might otherwise be sunk in despair a vision of hope.
