All language subtitles for Беседы с Солженицыным 1998 B

PART TWO

- He is now just upstairs?
- Yes.

- One can't even hear
the floor creak.

- He's working.

How good to live
in silence.

He depends
on very few things.

He is easy to get on with
at home.

Unassuming. Always grateful
for anything one does for him.

He can eat the same thing
every day.

I never take advantage
of his modesty.

He is easy to please
for food and clothes.

What does he absolutely need?
Plenty of sunlight,

when he is at work,
and silence.

He really needs
these two things.

He is frost-resistant. He can
work when it's cold. I can't.

But there must be light
and silence.

If there's any noise...

In Vermont the young

weren't allowed to play
basket-ball till 1 p.m.

We had a net
by the garage,

they were playing
all the time.

Sometimes I played
with them too.

But not before 1 p.m.
After that we could play,

because his work
was not so important then.

Now I think:
Did Vermont ever exist?

Seems we never
left Russia.

- Hello!

Good afternoon.

Yes.

All right.

On the first floor

are his bedroom
and his two studies:

This one, the smaller,
warmer in winter,

and the larger one,
where he is working now.

This is the writer's desk.

Everything is
in the right place.

Last spring's
lilies of the valley

He likes them.

A radio.

He listens
to classical music.

A gas-stove,
a table.

He can boil potatoes for himself,
make a cup of tea.

- Hello!

Yura, there's nobody there.

Nobody answers.
They must be out.

No matter. Bye.

- I don't remember
anything.

- Do you get a lot of mail?

- Yes, it's enormous. It's all in
the basement, we can show you.

The old archive is huge
and so is the new one.

- Do all the letters come
to your Foundation?

- That depends. Many letters
come to our city apartment.

We spent 2 years there,
before this house was ready.

That address is reliable.

Here we didn't even know
our post-code.

It's the countryside.

- What do they say?

- Now they write
considerably less,

because stamps
are too expensive.

About half the mail
is requests

for material aid.

- For survival.

- And so we do help them.

We can't help everybody,
but we do help former prisoners.

Those that suffer both
from old age and

the injustices that wring
their hearts, and ours too.

We help those first.

- You know some
of them?

- Not many.
It has changed, you know.

We helped the families of those
who were imprisoned

under Brezhnev, Andropov,
Chernenko.

Their gulag was heir to
Solzhenitsyn's former one.

Their wives, children, parents
often were

in a desperate situation.

The wives often
lost their jobs,

the children, the old parents
fell ill.

The breadwinner
was in jail.

We then helped
those prisoners.

Certainly,
we knew many of them.

Everybody knew them. Prisoners
were not as numerous as before,

but they were those who
raised their voices in protest.

As much as they could.

They were relatively
young,

many of them managed to get by
one way or another.

Those whose health
wasn't too ravaged, could work.

We don't help them anymore.

We help only those of them
who lost touch with life.

Now we help
Stalin's gulag prisoners,

the prisoners
of Solzhenitsyn's time,

whom we had not helped
during all the period

of our underground work
under Brezhnev.

Our Fund's managers were being
arrested, beaten, imprisoned.

- How do they find you?

There are rumours about,
as usual.

We published something.
People do know.

Besides, now...

we ask local administrations

to send us the lists
they have.

- Of the destitute...

- No, of those who endured
repression.

They have such lists.

We take the lists,
for instance,

of the Volgograd or
of the Stavropol region.

Say, 600 names. Those lists
are very long.

There we have data
such as the date of birth,

the dates of imprisonment,

some other basic information.

We select

the eldest people,
or those who served

the longest term.

If there are any disabled,
we note them down.

We get to half the list.

Supposedly the worst off.
Then we send them letters,

with no promises,

just saying we'd like
to learn more about them,

asking them to write to us,
if they'd like to and can.

As a rule, people do answer,
85-90% of them do.

- And what do they write?

- Mainly they are amazed

that somebody should take
any interest in them.

They write remarkable letters,
one can't help crying

from fear, from pain,
and joy

that we can help.

These letters help us
understand their position.

For example,
one may have children,

but doesn't know
where they are.

So we make our choice
according to their circumstances.

We don't help too many in each
region, but we do help.

In more than 40 regions.
Even more than that.

- Thousands of people?

- Yes, counting those
who receive regular aid from us.

There is a one-time aid too.

Because the Fund is made
of the money

raised from the publication
of this book all over the world.

- Does the State help you
in any way?

- Does it help us? Of course not.

- Never offered its help?

- Never helped, nor offered,
and we never asked.

While I was talking
with his wife,

the writer decided
to tidy his study himself.

He refused any help.

- All right. Now I must look
how things are there.

Yes. That's all right.
Now everything will be all right.

All right.

Yes...

A very nice table

Now it's there just as...

...a memory of the old one.
No more than that.

- To stand a while
and think.

- Yes.

- Looking at the maple.

- There in Vermont the ceiling
of my study was even higher.

There were six windows
in the roof.

Plenty of daylight,
but also beastly cold in winter.

- How did you heat it?
- We didn't.

I tried to,
but it was too expensive.

For half a year I didn't
work there, I had another study.

I worked there only
during the warm season.

Here the study is not so cold,
one can work,

but anyway the smaller one
is more comfortable. It's warmer.

You've come just in time,

it is just the end
of the warm period.

Natalia Dmitrievna
helps me a lot in my work.

She has herself
typed all this...

The collected works.

- Including editorship.
- Each character, each phrase...

- All the 20 volumes.

A unique edition... Of course,
there aren't many copies.

And yet, I gave it to some
regional libraries.

They were grateful.

So one can find it
in regional libraries.

The "Red Wheel" was also sent
to local libraries,

because it's not available.

- In what regions of Russia?

- I also sent copies
to regional libraries,

I can't even tell you
how many:

In Yaroslavl, Kostroma,

Ryazan, Voronezh,

to cite...
Rostov

only towns familiar to me:
Pyatigorsk, Taganrog...

- And Petersburg?

- They have it at the Public
Library in Petrograd.

I never say Petersburg,
I can't accept it.

I accept Petrograd.

- I prefer it too.

- They were quite right to
rename it, when World War I began.

Why on earth do we have to have
a foreign name for our capital?

- A "burg".

- Not even "Peter-burg",

Peter pronounced it
as the Dutch do, "Peter-burkh".

Plus "Sanct" on top of it.

Who believes now
it's about St. Peter?

Nobody used "Sanct".

Now they say "Saint Petersburg".
Why should they? Just Petrograd.

The region's still
"Leningrad oblast".

It could be Petrograd oblast.

Well, then.

Very valuable:
The Great Academic Dictionary.

The Dahl Dictionary's
essential too.

Other volumes...
You see,

in the camp, you couldn't read
any book,

as to my literary work,
I kept it secret.

I was reading all the time:

We'd go, say, to roll-call,
and wait 20 minutes,

I kept reading.

Everybody thought I was crazy:
Reading a dictionary!

A rat would come to check.
- What's this? - A dictionary.

So I acquired a lot
of Russian.

You see?

I went through
all four volumes.

Those notebooks
I showed you

were my first, then the second,
the third, the fourth extracts...

Out of them came the
"Dictionary of Language Extension".

It took me 35 years.

The Dahl is priceless.

So, you learned
the language?

- Yes... - You studied Russian
again?

- Yes, that's how I did it.
I made myself familiar with it

I always put down the expressions
I heard, too. I always made notes.

Dialects from different regions
help a lot.

For instance,

Ivan Denisovich
speaks the Meshchera dialect,

that is,

from east
of the Ryazan region,

southward from Vladimir.

The locality is called
Meshchera.

In "Matryona's House"
it's her natural language.

She didn't know I was taking notes
when she was speaking.

I wrote what she said.

- Did any of your ordinary readers

ever tell you they appreciated
the language?

- Readers? Oh, no.

I'm mostly criticised
for inventing words.

We are so out of touch
with authentic Russian,

that when I reinstate
rich, clear, genuine Russian words,

they are seen
as my inventions.

A few made it: "obustroit",
"to arrange or complete".

The pamphlet where I used this word
was condemned,

but the word itself was widely used
and abused.

But you see,
it's only a natural combination.

- There were other
such cases,

when your words
were accepted.

- You see...

- Now there are prepositions.
'PROvedat', to call on somebody.

'RAZvedat'.
To find out.

And why not
'PREDvedat'?

"To pre-know"?
To know beforehand?

Or 'PEREvedat', "to re-verify":
I know what it is, but I check.

'PEREvedat', 'PREDvedat'
can exist.

- But "to pre-know"
is somehow incorrect.

- Why? It's absolutely valid.

Too few combinations
are currently accepted.

We have 20 prepositions,
even more.

And hosts of verbs.

Each of the prepositions
can go with each verb.

And when I combine things
that were never combined,

they start shouting.

I didn't invent anything.

I just combined things
that already exist.

That's all
for now.

I'm going up to work.

I sat in the corner
of his study.

I watched him.

Everything was interesting.

Then I decided to come
nearer his desk.

I sat by his side
and watched him working.

I heard his breath.

In the days before

we had been talking for
many hours, about many things,

but always returning to the theme
most important for me.

I hear his voice
and I see his eyes,

I will remember everything,
from now to the rest of my life.

- This is where
Russian literature

differs greatly
from that of the West.

In the West,
the plot's foremost,

it gets
the most attention.

Dostoevsky
focussed on the plot.

Maybe that was...

what opened his way
to the West,

because here he was despised
and slandered,

and died quite unknown.

He was discovered
by the West,

and then we realised
whom we had lost.

While in his lifetime
he was downtrodden.

- It seems to me
he has two kinds of plot:

The first is defined
by the character's actions,

the second
is the moral plot,

which seems to me
more important than the action.

- I agree with you.

But can one call the moral object
a plot?

It's not the right word.

It should rather be
"the framework of the narrative,"

or "the pivot of the narrative."

The plot is a chain of events

and the reactions of the characters
to them.

- Of course. You are right,
one may call it "a moral plot".

And this was most important
for Dostoevsky.

Still, he was concerned
about the average reader,

this is why he didn't dismiss
the common plot either.

- Perhaps he just needed
money?

His life was hard,
and he had to sell,

the rest was
the power of his writing.

- You cannot put it all down
to money.

He did have his readers
in mind,

and how to make them read...

I agree with such a division:
A common plot and a moral one.

Of course, he valued
the moral plot very much,

but never neglected
the common one.

This is important,
it's rare in Russia.

- Had Raskolnikov not killed
the old woman,

had the novel finished
before he turned the door-handle,

it would have been
"Crime and Punishment" as well...

- The moral plot
was already over,

but not yet the common plot.

Yes, you are right. It's true.

- Were there in Russian literature
any moral plots before his?

Who influenced him,

or did it begin with him?

- You know...

in some respect it was
Karamzin.

Karamzin was very sensitive
to moral plots.

His "History of the Russian State"

is permeated
with moral judgement.

His fiction too.

Your question
was rather unexpected...

Now I think it over once more...

Yes, Karamsin
for prose.

On the one hand,
Russian literature as a whole...

...stands aloft

because of its ethic principles,
which have never been lost.

Ethical concerns.

This is its distinction
in literature.

It's a pity it'll end up
crushed and discarded.

They all want
aestheticism,

which is only fit
for making soap bubbles.

On the other hand,

it's strange that Russian
literature,

partly because
of Gogol,

whose pitiless vision

took in all vices,

partly with his influence

it overlooked...

...the constructive aspect
of Russian history.

Who created
this great power?

Who made it extend
to Siberia

to the Pacific,
to Alaska,

who introduced culture
to Siberia?

By the end of the 18th century
cultural activity was

highly developed
in Siberia.

Why do we speak only
about Oblomov,

Pechorin, Onegin,

the odd people,
who can't hang on to anything?

Where are the men
of action? The builders?

Russian literature
overlooked them.

- When did this occur?

- There was no break.

It just flowed on,
like a river.

I think it was
Gogol's influence.

He opened the way
to the satirical, the ironical,

Saltykov-Shchedrin.
He was already...

- He was the quintessence
of them all. - Pure mustard...

Pure mustard. Why?...

He drew us aside...

It wasn't by accident
that Gogol

couldn't write the second part
of "Dead Souls".

Suddenly it came out
that with all his...

high moral convictions
and motives

he was simply unable
to see those people,

he understood they ought to exist,
but he couldn't see them.

He tried to,
but couldn't.

Such was his vision.

- But he was already
conscious of it.

He was, but an artist can't
take orders, even from himself.

If it doesn't work,
it doesn't work and that's that.

For some reason or other
it all went wrong.

He had such talent,

such a burning vision
of all negative things.

Like an X-ray.

- By its nature, art is born

in complex and highly dramatic
circumstances,

that's the way art is born,
isn't it?

- Not necessarily. The atmosphere
can be peacefully lyrical.

- No, I am speaking
about great works,

about dramatic
and tragic works.

- Big works can be born so,

but lyrics can come differently.
Like small brooks.

- That depends on
the author's fate.

- It may be a turbulent river
or a water-fall,

it may also be a quiet lovely
brook.

Drama is not a necessary
condition

for literature and art.

- Is there anything new here,

something that has never been
before?

- Since 1917, many new things.

Few we could write about.

If we did,

we were eliminated, those
who described things as they were.

Those works were burnt...

I'll never forget

how I was brought
to an interrogation,

in the middle
of the room

there was a huge pile
of manuscripts.

Somebody's apartment
had been searched at night.

And there lay that heap, and the
investigator about to deal with it.

An enormous heap, high,
in the form of a cone.

A lot of manuscripts and books.

The investigator was sitting
at his table away from me

and there was this mountain
between us.

Aghast, I thought:

"Now all is doomed."

My war diaries were burnt.
Five notebooks, all in all.

I was deprived
of those memories.

All my notes from the front
are gone.

Only five notebooks,
but there!

Like a symbol, you see,

of all that disappeared.

So much was destroyed
in Russia.

After 1917 our life
changed immensely.

And the people
have changed.

They aren't the same.

Our literature has given but
a poor notion of the whole thing,

but it isn't to blame,

because all truth
was suppressed,

and all manners of lies
praising the Soviet regime

were encouraged
and widely spread.

So we ignored
a great deal,

and didn't realize in what condition
Russia was by the 1990ies.

Why do we now have
so many surprises?

Because for 70 years
we knew nothing.

You spoke of cruelty.

There never was such cruelty
as in Soviet times.

It might be called an achievement
of the Soviet period.

If I don't eat you,
you'll eat me.

If I don't betray you,
you'll betray me.

One of us must be jailed.

And that's it.
There were many such changes.

- Why don't we know

about what Rasputin
is currently doing?

- Because he has been
silenced,

in our country of freedom...

Why? I do know,
I read his work.

He still writes
good stories.

He doesn't appear publicly,
because he's not invited.

Radio Svoboda even called him
a fascist.

A fascist!

They are crazy,
stark raving mad.

They simply don't let him
have his say.

We need freedom
of speech.

He's got none. Sometimes
I meet him, I keep up with his work.

I'm very fond of him.

He has a tender soul,

a kind and pure one.

- I have a feeling that literature
lives on the past.

The past is important.

The past we've lived.

Literature finds it difficult

to exist along with a rapid,
overhasty life.

- No, it's pure physics:

Human nature
has not enough time

to follow everything going on
around it.

An artist has to be placed
at some distance

from his object.

If he just sets down

his momentary impressions,

it will be more like an essay,
a piece of reporting,

than a work of art.

Few authors are able
to capture

pieces of reality instantly.

Chekhov could do that.

At once.

But the majority
must have time

for their impressions to
settle down.

And also,

at a certain age
one begins to write

not about the historical past,
but about one's personal past,

about the earlier years
of one's own life.

Why are there so many
memoirs?

So many people write
about their youth.

When? In their old age.

In old age
it often happens that

old remembrances

become more vivid.

There's some psychological law
about it.

- We are talking about the age
of the soul.

- Yes, we are.

- The age of the soul...

Is your soul older or younger
than you? What's your feeling?

- This is interesting.

- Is it hard for you?

- An interesting question.

I can't tell.
It's a difficult question.

We've lived together,
my soul and my body,

the same length of time.

Of course, the soul was living
mostly in another sphere,

at another speed.

Still, I would not call it old.

DIALOGUES WITH SOLZHENITSYN