Boris Godunov, Modest Mussorgsky’s famous opera. Why does the beggar reject monarch’s humble request to pray for the salvation of tsar’s soul? Another question that we might want to discuss later on.
The whole of the second verse can basically be seen—or, rather, heard—as the voice of the Russian liberal intelligentsia, moaning about the fact that the ‘only civilised people in this wild country’ (sarcasm on my side) are forced to ‘go down’ by the Driver, be this Driver Nicholas I, Joseph Stalin, or Vladimir Putin. The pro-Western liberal intelligentsia in Russia will be lamenting until the second arrival of Christ. If Christ Himself asked those people to follow Him, to join Him in the Heavenly Kingdom, and to please leave behind all their petty thoughts and bad mental habits, this being the only condition for their rise—they would still say the strict Driver had forced them to go down. Does it sound too ecclesiastical? I cannot help it.
There are two things that reconcile me with this song, though, one of them being sweet memories of my adolescence. All these songs—along with some understanding of them—have been ‘transmitted’ to me by one of my teachers, a person of whom I think very highly, so they cannot be really bad, however sentimental it may sound. The second reason is the third verse of ‘Skripka-Lisa’ that asks us to
[g]et to the very bottom, come what may; let Sorrow and Darkness haunt you.
We have only one life, and we ought to remember that the ditch [into which we can fall] is pretty close.
This, finally, is very Russian. An average member of the pro-European liberal intelligentsia wouldn’t really try to get to the very bottom of things; he or she wouldn’t bravely face Sorrow and Darkness haunting him or her. Neither would he or she be very much concerned with whether he or she ends up in the ditch of evil thoughts and deeds or not. ‘It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile,’ according to Gordon Sumner commonly known as Sting. It takes being Russian to embrace what you cannot escape from; it takes being Russian to know the depths of one’s own depravity and not to fall into them. It also takes being Russian to actually fall into the ditch of your depravity, to get to the very bottom of it, and to morally resurrect.
Your questions are most welcome.>11
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[Сноска дальше.]
– You do look so very Alice-in-Wonderland, dear! – шестидесятилетняя женщина за столом директора в бледно-жёлтой блузке с V-образным вырезом осветилась улыбкой. Наверняка она имела в виду мою причёску и волосы до плеч, и ещё мою длинную юбку до середины голени, и белую блузку, вот это вот всё; кстати, лет десять назад я чёлки не носила. Да и два года назад: что я только не выделывала со своими волосами два года назад… Я невольно коснулась волос, тоже улыбаясь:
– You see, Mrs Walking, I am old enough to stop experimenting with my hair… It’s Mrs Walking, isn’t it?
Миссиc Уолкинг кивнула, подтверждая, что это именно она и есть. Через её cтол мы пожали друг другу руки, верней, просто соединили их и слегка встряхнули, как тут и принято пожимать руки.
– Pray take your seat, – предложила директор. Она мне явно нравилась, и не только своей приветливостью. – You were quite a success today, do you know that? I was impressed, too. You know, I was just passing by the door, when I caught some words of your lecture, so I stopped for a minute—you don’t mind my involuntary eavesdropping, do you? – Я прикусила губу, удерживая улыбку. Eavesdropping, положим, наверняка было не такое уж involuntary, но пусть: я бы то же самое сделала. Может быть, у них микрофон установлен в каждом классе, так что вовсе и не надо стоять под дверью, достаточно нажать на кнопку. – Did you like your group?
