The Dark-Violet Knight Continues.
“…The blackened wound
was smoking,
And blood that flowed was
slowly getting cold.”
Lermontov. A Dream.
But
let us now go back to the name Fagot…
Fagot is derived from the Italian fasces,
which means a bundle of twigs, sticks or branches tied up together. Hence also
the musical instrument fagotto (in
English bassoon), which implies a
bundle of tubes.
Bulgakov
thus calls Koroviev because the latter is the connective element in Woland’s
group. It is to him, Koroviev, that Woland addresses all his questions.
Koroviev is a repository of information. He is on good terms with Azazello, for
the curious reason, learning which you will laugh yourself silly. He is
inseparable from Kot-Begemot. It was Koroviev who selected Margarita as the
Queen of the Ball. During the ball, it is Koroviev who chaperons Margarita,
fills her in on the nitty-gritty of the guests. Koroviev helps Margarita in her
conversations with Woland, whispering good advice and the right answers in her
ear. In other words, Koroviev is indispensable.
And
still one feels that for Koroviev-Fagot this ball means something much more
than just another assignment. The impression is that the ball is important for
him for a very personal reason. (I just cannot help it: I have a feeling that
for Koroviev this ball is a must-do thing. Too much is at stake for him
personally!)
Here
is how Koroviev instructs Margarita:
“…Allow me, Koroleva
[Queen], to give you this last piece of advice. There will be different sorts
among the guests, very different, but no one, Koroleva Margot, must receive any preference from you! If you
dislike someone… I know that surely you are not going to show it on your face…
But no, no! You can’t even think about it. He will notice, he will notice that
same moment. Love him you must, love him, Koroleva! A hundredfold shall be the
reward for that for the Hostess of the Ball!”
Koroviev
sounds plain hysterical here. Why? It seems that if everything goes well, he
will too receive his reward. So much therefore depends on Margarita for him
personally.
And
here now is the conversation Koroviev is having with Margarita when she gets
into the Apartment #50 for the first
time:
“You are a very intelligent woman, and you obviously have guessed
by now who our host is… Every year, the messire throws one ball. It is called
the Ball of the Spring Full-Moon.
Well, here it is, the messire is a bachelor… But a hostess is
needed. You must agree that without a hostess…”
Margarita
consents to Koroviev’s offer to become the hostess of the Spring Ball. Thereby
she joins, even if temporarily, Woland’s retinue. Hip-Hip-Hooray, a Royal Flush! Which reminds me of how Woland
praises Koroviev:
“Yes, Koroviev is right: how
whimsically has the deck been shuffled! Blood!”
[What
kind of “blood” runs through Margarita’s veins will be explained in the Fantastic Novel of Master and Margarita.]
At
the séance of black magic at the Variety Theater, Koroviev is indispensable, as
always. He masterfully entertains the public with his tricks with a deck of
cards. An obtrusive thought in my brain gives me no rest, that the words which
Fagot says to someone in the audience pertain to him himself.
“It wasn’t without reason
that you said last night at supper that but for the game of poker your life in
Moscow would have been utterly unbearable.”
We
somehow sense with our sixth sense that this Koroviev-Regent-Lead Singer-Fagot is nothing like what he is trying
to pass himself off for. Take this, for instance:
“In the interpreter’s offer there was a clear practical sense, the
offer itself was very respectable, yet there was something surprisingly
undignified in the way the interpreter talked, in his manner of dress, and in
this revolting, good for nothing pince-nez.”
Koroviev’s
whole appearance is not serious, and his behavior is mostly not serious either.
Fagot reminds us of the clown whom Bulgakov for a good reason makes the opening
act of the show whose centerpiece is the séance of black magic. Yet, regardless
of all this, Koroviev is not revolting to us.
Following
the séance of black magic, The Checkered
One, Regent, Koroviev, Fagot receives yet another name: Knight.
Gella:
“Knight, a
little man is here who says he needs to see the messire.”
And
Woland himself, at the sight of Master tells Koroviev: “Yes, that was quite a job they did on him.
Won’t you, Knight, offer this man a drink!”
At
the end of the novel we learn that we were right in our suspicions concerning
Koroviev. Bulgakov says it clearly that everything that we have read so far has
been a deception.
“The night was thickening… exposing the deceptions… all deceptions
disappeared; the transitory magical vestments fell into a swamp, drowned in the
fog… You would hardly recognize Koroviev-Fagot now, that self-proclaimed
interpreter to the mysterious foreigner who needed no interpreter… In place of
the one who had left Vorobievy Hills in tattered circus clothing, under the
name of Koroviev-Fagot, there was now galloping, softly jingling the golden
chain of the rein, a dark-violet knight
with a most somber, never-smiling face…”
And
instead of feeling indignation, we start thinking. Things somehow become even
more interesting. With other writers things become clear at the end, all is
explained, all is digested. With Bulgakov, though, nothing is clear. All
riddles. One has to think, figure things out.
The
most mysterious figure, with so many different names, is transformed into a
dark-violet knight. Here is the crux of the matter.
Solve…
Prove…
(To
be continued…)
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