Sayings. Dostoevsky F.M.: “But the alien soul is dark, and the Russian soul is dark; for many it is dark"
Dostoevsky F.M.: “But the alien soul is dark, and the Russian soul is dark; For many it’s dark.”
Freud Z.: “The Russian soul ventured to conclude that sin is a necessary step to enjoying all the bliss of divine grace, that is, in principle, a godly thing.”
“Whoever alternately sins and then, repenting, sets himself high moral goals, can easily be reproached for building his life too conveniently for himself. <...> In this way he resembles the barbarians of the era of the Migration of Peoples, the barbarians who killed and then repented of it - so that repentance became a technical example that cleared the way for new murders. Ivan the Terrible did the same; bargaining with conscience is a characteristic Russian trait.”
Mann T.: “Freedom is freedom to sin.”
Dostoevsky F.M.: “There is nothing more seductive for a person than the freedom of his conscience, but there is nothing more painful.”
Berdyaev N.A.: “Freedom is the main source of the tragedy of life... This tragedy of freedom must be accepted by man. He has no right to relieve himself. There is no easy solution to the problem of freedom.”
Control questions
1. What were Freud’s initial ideas about the Russian character?
2. What is the psychoanalytic vision of the Russian soul?
3. What are sin and repentance?
4. Is a deal with conscience a characteristic feature of the Russian person?
5. What can you say about the Russian character?
Literature
1. Berdyaev N.A. About man, his freedom and spirituality. Selected works. – M., 1999.
2. Dostoevsky F.M. Brothers Karamazov // Collection. cit.: In 15 volumes - L., 1991. - T. 9, 10.
3. Dostoevsky F.M. Crime and Punishment. - Arkhangelsk, 1985.
4. Leibin V.M. Oedipus complex and Russian mentality - M., 1997.
5. Mann T. Doctor Faust. The life of the German composer Adrian Leverkühn, as told by his friend. - M., 1959.
6. Freud Z. The future of one illusion // Nietzsche F., Freud Z., Fromm E., Camus A., Sartre J.-P. Twilight of the Gods. - M., 1989.
7. Freud Z. Dostoevsky and parricide // Freud Z. Artist and fantasy. - M., 1995.
Topic 7
The problem of the unconscious in Russian thought
Stereotypes in the history of science. Western European orientation to the problem of the unconscious. Psychoanalytic dogmas. Rethinking the history of the development of ideas about the unconscious.
A.I. Radishchev about “sensual” and “reasonable” experience. The idea of unconscious human activity in Russian philosophical and natural scientific thought of the 18th century.
The problem of the unconscious in the works of P.L. Lavrova. The concept of idealization. The role of the unconscious in artistic creativity.
K.D. Ushinsky about extraconscious mental phenomena. The problem of forgetting. Educational anthropology.
Problems of the unconscious in the works of K.D. Kavelin and I.I. Sechenov. Cartesian thesis about the identity of the mental and conscious.
Ideas about the unconscious in the works of N.Ya. Grota and V.H. Kandinsky, M.I. Vladislavlev and M.M. Troitsky.
S.N. Trubetskoy about the significance of the unconscious in the mental life of a person. Discussion of the problems of the unconscious in the journal “Questions of Philosophy and Psychology” at the turn of the 19th-20th centuries.
I.F. Fedorov about man as an “unconscious product” of various vices. Evil as a manifestation of the unconscious. Good as a transition to rationality.
Someone else's soul - darkness
LITPROSECTOR There is nothing worse when the author’s soul writes poetry for him. So he crawls out of his mortal body - and writes, writes, writes. There's no stopping it right now. The author is sleeping at this time and, naturally, does not control the process. After a while, he takes what he has written, attaches his name to the file with a potential cover, and, probably without re-reading it, sends it to the press. The machine is working, a small print run is being distributed to friends and acquaintances, and some items are being sold. You can’t dig in here: you say something unpleasant to the author and immediately receive in response: “How dare you touch my snow-white (wounded, trembling, sick, etc., etc.) soul with your dirty paws!” You sprinkle ashes on your head, beg for forgiveness, mercy - anything, just to... I am the daughter of fire, freedom and winds. Burn near the heart and feather grass ash. And if you are ready to love me, then first fall in love with the smell of the steppe! Of course, you bow in deep respect, but you are tempted to ask, they say, why is your name on the cover, and not the name of your soul: for example, “The Soul of Masha Ivanova” or “Creations of the Soul of Petya Sidorov”? They forget about the soul when they sign poems. They don't even indicate co-authorship. Therefore, I would like to take off my hat to Vera Arngold, who, in the annotation to her book “Love Stops,” without further ado, wrote that to the reader “poems are the voice of my soul.” By the way, for a sophisticated lover of fine literature, such a phrase is an irresistible reason to close the book and never open it again, because it is impossible to come up with anything more stupid than the “voice of the soul.” However, a slightly simpler (lesser) reader, to whom I consider myself, gladly buys into such a bauble and, with the air of a greedy soul stealer (in search of it), allows himself to leaf through the book during leisure hours. I'm leafing through. The cover depicts the author walking in a chintz dress across the endless expanses of Orenburg. There are blue flowers on the dress, yellow ones in the open spaces. The author looks somewhere into the distance. “Into the distance” was carefully cropped by the photographer L. Terentyeva. Around the photograph, as well as around the author’s poems, placed in slender columns inside the book, designer T. Fedorenko placed buttercups. They are made in pink tones with a cool gray-blue tint. In this way, the designer reinforces the author’s already spectacular “voice of the soul” with visual effects. Having ripped apart the branches, the elm was already dreaming of God, When, holding on to its trunk, turning to the edge of the road, he sat down in the shade of the thick branches, shielding himself from the sun, The poet, tired and dumb. And, tormented by thirst, he cut the trunk of the elm tree - the dried wrinkles, and drank bitter wine, and wiped his lips with clay. From the very first poem, the soul of Vera Arngold declares herself a steppe woman and takes a faithful (albeit cruel) sword as her husband; father is fire, mother is freedom. A permanent attribute of life with such relatives is a pillow (and nothing more) stuffed with mint and fireweed. Almost every poem has a title: “Grafting” (about the fact that all forty-year-olds have a sign blooming on their shoulders - instilled honor and conscience; I have them too!), “Continuum of Water” (about how, standing on tiptoes, the river flows, and the fish’s cold mouth swallows the water-time), “Obsession” (about the fact that one cannot escape from the mental wolf, and that the soul is hunted blindly), “Meeting of a tree and a poet” (about how tired and the mute poet, tormented by thirst, cuts the dried wrinkles of the elm tree - small-leaved elm - and drinks bitter wine. Why it was necessary to cut the tree remains outside the scope of the poem. The plot from a teenage sketch painting: “Here was the soul of the poet”), etc. One of the most favorite punctuation marks for the “voice of the soul” of the author is the exclamation mark. The fingers of one hand will be enough to count the number of poems (there are more than eighty texts in the book) where he is not present. Despite the endless expanses of Orenburg and the decoration of buttercups, the soul remains in the dark. For those who want to wander along with her - happy reading! Dmitry ARTIS Vera Arngold. Stops of love: Poems. – Orenburg: Publishing Center of OSAU, 2012. – 80 p. – Circulation not specified.
✍ Examples
“ Another person’s soul is darkness , and a cat’s even more so, but how close the pictures just described to the truth are can be seen from the following fact: indulging in drowsy dreams, the kitten suddenly jumped up, looked with sparkling eyes at Praskovya, ruffled its fur and, making a jump, plunged its claws into cook's hem."
“Fatherlessness” (1878), d. 1 yavl. 18 – Glagoliev speaks about the idea of his marriage to the mistress of the house:
» Glagoliev 1. Who knows? You shouldn't assume. Alien soul darkness
. Why are you bothering so much?
“The Thunderstorm” (1859), act 4, scene 4 - a son and his mother talk about their son’s wife Katerina:
» Kabanov. But what, mamma, her sins can be special: they are all the same as the rest of us, and this is what she is naturally afraid of.
Kabanova. How do you know? Someone else's soul of darkness ."
“There is a hangover at someone else’s feast” (1855) act 1 scene 1 - about the assumption that a girl is in love with a young merchant:
» Agrafena Platonovna. Oh, father, can you order it from anyone? After all, she is not some kind of princess! And who knows, a woman’s business is tricky, maybe she loves him herself. Someone else's soul is dark . Girls don't talk about it."
“Wolves and Sheep” (1875) – The landowner Murzavetskaya blackmails her neighbor, the landowner Kupavina, with a forged letter that her husband allegedly left. The letter says that he promised to give part of his fortune to Murzavetskaya:
» Kupavina. Yes, I believe you.
Murzavetskaya. Apparently you don't believe well. Do you think that I want to pimp you? So look here! (Takes a letter out of his pocket.)
Kupavina. No need, I assure you.
Murzavetskaya. No, mother, someone else's soul is dark
.
(Gives her a letter.)
Whatever you’re afraid of, take it.”
“The Last Victim” (1877) - Glafira Firsovna tells young Yulia about their relative, the rich Flor Fedulovich:
“But just a lot, a lot, passion, so much money! Someone else's soul - darkness
Who knows who he will leave the money to, so all his relatives are subservient to him. And you shouldn’t upset him either.”
"But someone else's soul is dark
, and the Russian soul is dark; For many it’s dark.”
“Court speeches” (1871), Case of Dmitrieva and Kastrubo-Karitsky:
“This slander seems strong at first, but nevertheless, of course, one cannot believe it, if only because the human soul is still in the dark .”
“The Noble Nest” (1858), ch. 17:
“She seems to like him, but God knows! Someone else’s soul, you know, a dark forest , and even more so a girl’s.”
“Notes of a Hunter” (1847 – 1851), Knocks:
“What if they weren’t robbers?
- How should I know? Can you really get into someone else's soul? Someone else’s soul is known to be darkness .”
Alien soul - darkness (SI) - Olga Romanovskaya
Romanovskaya Olga
Someone else's soul - darkness
Chapter 1
Yes, finally agree: I’m not stubborn!
Women's wisdom
-Are you crazy?!
The start looked promising. But I expected something like this - not wishes for a bon voyage! So she sat, dangled her legs and chewed an apple. Slowly, enjoying the taste and not paying attention to the verbal tirades. For myself, I decided everything a long time ago, but someone else’s opinion... Through the forest and steppe, dear and beloved! I didn't hire myself out to spend my entire life in the kitchen in complete ignorance. And to sit at home only because my mother managed to give birth to me from a vampire. Although, I seriously doubted this: it’s difficult to get pregnant from a creature who can’t get anywhere in bed without fresh blood and stimulants. How do I know? I tried it. Or rather, they tried me - there’s no point in walking through cemeteries, girl! She also got off easy - the vampire didn’t succeed. He was so upset, poor thing, that he let go in all four directions. He left only the scars on his wrist as a souvenir. This is another misconception that vampires only grab you by the throat.
So she lied, mother, and increased the price. Or the vampire was caught freshly, for whom not everything has died off. I suspect that it was the necromancer who revived the unfortunate maiden who killed me. They didn’t tell me about him, they always brushed him off. And passion for me, how interesting!
Strange people, after all: to give birth to a vampire is such an honor and respect, but to get pregnant from a magician is a shame. What can you do, they branded illegitimate children, so they made up stories...
Did my mother even love my father, or did he just do it without asking until she came to her senses? After all, my mother is good even now, men look at me. But she is a flint - she doesn’t let anyone in. However, I got married, although not right away, but as I grew up a little. And she pushed me away... Or rather, I went myself, out of great and pure love. And now my love declares that my place is in the kitchen with a ladle, and not in the library with books. No, honestly, eh? After all, I learned it myself, just like my supposed daddy, he does magic, only in small ways. But he started his own business and built a new house. It was in the kitchen that the nightingale poured out.
I sighed painfully, nodded, chewed and thought about my own things. In particular, that I will soon howl in this house with melancholy.
The husband, despite being a magician, turned out to be an ordinary person. No, he looked after me beautifully, created flowers out of thin air, helped his stepfather for free. My stepfather, by the way, was a village elder, so he regularly used the services of sorcerers. As you know, they are not cheap, and you can’t solve the problem with a horned weapon that has run wild. Hendrik came in handy here. My husband's name is Hendrik.
I looked at him, who had been describing the mental abilities of women for an hour - he was still good, he was an infection! Green-eyed, tall brown-haired. The girls were obsessed with him, they did all sorts of dirty tricks to me, just so that he would pay attention to them. And he doesn’t care - only Agnia. However, I understand him: she came out with her face and figure. And when I let my hair down, a mermaid is a mermaid! Also, by the way, green-eyed, but blonde. Sometimes I paint myself red: well, it suits me. And my husband likes it.
Eh, I remember we got to know each other very closely on the river. Then I kept giggling, making eyes at him, accepting gifts, and in exchange forcing him to kiss him with a broom. How? It’s simple: he’ll reach out to me in the dark, and I’ll offer him a broom. So I decided to take the bull, that is, the heifer, by the horns.
A river flowed through our forest, among birch trees. I had my own secluded place there, behind the bushes. I know our guys: they’re good at spying on girls, so I snuck away.
When it was warm, I bathed in what my mother gave birth in, and at the same time I didn’t have to dry myself.
And Hendrik, the pest, tracked him down and stole things.
I need to get out of the water and there’s nothing.
This bastard stands there, smiling, greedily examining my charms. And I don’t even have anything to cover myself with, just my hair—thankfully it’s long.
I sat in the water for two hours, then got out... I didn’t get away with kisses, we crushed the grass well, Hendrik did his best. The maiden's honor, which the vampire could not really take away, sank into a deep pool. The magician turned out to be more skillful in this matter, eager for my body. I didn’t really want to, I fought back, but they didn’t ask me. They laid him on his back and looked at the clouds. I gave up and decided: such a handsome guy can do it. Yes, and he kissed - goosebumps ran through his body, his heart skipped a beat.
Having received what he wanted, Hendrik gave her the clothes, helped her braid her hair, and walked her home.
I thought: he would stop walking - no, he became more frequent than before. He began to squeeze him in the hallway, press him to the trees, and invite him into the hayloft. I didn’t mind: he’s a magician! And she was in love like a cat. These days and nights just came back to haunt me: my relatives found out and pushed me into marriage.
And now I’m sitting with my belly in the kitchen, and Hendrik convinces me that the Academy doesn’t even accept people like me as volunteer students. And in general I have no abilities, no knowledge either - it would not be a shame! And then you see, all sorts of nonsense came into my head. And two magicians in a family is too much, so it’s better for me to give birth to children and take care of the household, because even with a diploma I won’t be able to do magic. It is even life-threatening for pregnant and breastfeeding women, but mothers have no time.
— It’s better to come up with a name for the child.
Yes, I'm pregnant. I’m paying for the hot nights - so that the demons take Hendrik away! After all, at the age of twenty, I categorically did not intend to give birth, but my husband has other plans for this. He let me walk around a bit, get used to married life, and then he let me down. Of course, I’m fine too, I’m relaxed, but here I have an excuse - there’s no forest with herbs nearby. But you can’t buy something like that in the city, and even if you’re married, you can’t buy it. Well, if you really want to, you can, of course, but it’s expensive: I don’t have enough pocket money. This is where it’s easier for witches - there are no prohibitions, she took it and prepared it herself.
In short, I have to give birth in four months, in winter. She blurred out like a cow - will something happen later? But while I’m still going on my own, it would be nice to go to the capital, pass exams, and study for a couple of months. Or not a couple, if you stay at the Academy to give birth. Nothing will happen to the child if I sit down to gnaw on the granite of science. How about explaining this to your husband? He's stubborn, he's a sheep, he doesn't want to listen to anything. Man, what will you take from him?
Mother, of course, also called her a fool: she did not approve of women’s teaching beyond the necessary norm, which was limited to two “ds,” one “m,” and one “g.” With “d” everything is simple: home and children. "M" is for husband. "G" - diploma. I mastered all these wisdoms, got a husband, children were also planned... Stop, not children, but a child. If Hendrik expects to see me as a duck all year round, then fuck him! I didn’t hire myself to wash diapers and hang around the kitchen all day. And with what money, dear? Or are you hiding something from me?
— Hendrik, this is the second time you’ve repeated it. Come up with something new, huh? — I lazily reached for a new apple. “I already understood that a woman has a mind for a holey copper, but for some reason I didn’t become stupid.” I may be pregnant, but I haven’t fallen into insanity.
- Honey, what is it called? — Hendrik crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me point-blank.
Handsome, you bastard! Tell me, why do women have such a weakness for men? And mine still smells like that...
My husband knew why I was thrilled, so after a serious quarrel he dragged me to bed. I kicked and hissed, but gave in. Maybe he knew then, two years ago, too? In a word, my hubby took it with the main male weapon. But that's when the arguments ended. This is not the case now. Hendrik considered himself right - but that’s another story.
- What exactly? — I smiled innocently.
- Your stupid idea. I won't let you go anywhere - that's it.
Wow, how formidable we are! He orders, thinks I will obey? Yeah, right now! If I really want something, then I will get it. And I want. I didn’t understand why yet, but I knew for sure that it would be useful. At least in order not to be an appendage of Hendrik. So - who am I? Laundress, cook and entertainer. My husband doesn’t talk to me about anything, when guests come, he tells me to keep quiet, at best, start talking about the weather. So I decided: I want to be on an equal footing with him. I secretly began to look through notes and books - for nothing, perhaps, did I master “g”, that is, to read and write? But not a single thing is clear!
