Saturday, September 20, 2014

GALINA SEDOVA’S BULGAKOV. CXXXI.


Ivanushka Through the Looking Glass Continues.

 

All needled in smoke and fingers,
I’m rolling over the years …

V. Mayakovsky.

 
Why would Bulgakov choose these two characters with funnily corresponding names: Ivan Nikolayevich and Nikolai Ivanovich? Bulgakov always chooses the names of his characters carefully, and they all carry some kind of meaning for him. [I will be writing about it in my Bulgakov chapter, if I have time.] The correspondence of their names is striking, and in so far as their respective ages are concerned, Nikolai Ivanovich could well be a father to Ivan Nikolayevich… Turgenev’s “Fathers and Sons theme? --- Hardly: At the end of the novel they are both very well adjusted. Outwardly, their cases can be called “success stories.” But then comes the spring full moon, and the truth about them comes out: their lives are empty. Bulgakov says nothing about the nature and specifics of their jobs. We only know that Nikolai Ivanovich cannot stand his wife, whereas Ivan Nikolayevich never allows his wife into his “unknown to her, but some kind of exalted and happy dreams.” And he never even tells us her name.

By the example of these two men, Bulgakov wishes to show the drab quality of life of the majority of people. There’s no spark, no fire in their lives. They live in the past, off their memories, both knowing that they had touched something grandiose. We are also speaking of the missed opportunities… What a contrast with the life of master! What do these words of master really mean?---

“…And I went out into life, holding it [the manuscript] in my hands, and then my life was over.”

Yes, the life of master is now over, and what begins at this point is his immortality among other heroes of world literature. He is not a spectator, he is a creator. As we know, master used to have a grayish life. He worked at a museum, had a wife, but he does not even remember who she was, so drab it all was…

And then, an opportunity comes his way, to change his life. He wins 100,000 rubles from a government bond, given to him at work as part of his salary, and exalted, without hesitation, master plunges into the muddled waters of the unknown. Instead of putting the money away as security, so to speak, and continuing his work at the museum, where he has a steady income and a comfortable status quo; instead of limiting his writing to weekends and other spare time, master throws his former life to the winds, and commits himself to the passion of his life: creative writing.

And now luck is on his side. Master meets an extraordinary woman, for whom master’s novel becomes her life too. Their happiness is turbulent, and it ends too soon, but for them it was worth more than their previous lives.

In contrast, Ivanushka can expect a perpetual journey around a circle of the same remembrances, and there is no chance for him to break outside that circle. There is a good reason to believe that on his way up the career staircase, Ivanushka will end up just like Nikolai Ivanovich, a pathetic aging man. Bulgakov would not have wanted to end his days in a psychiatric clinic, but he was worried that the readers who might understand his allegory with Pushkin and Lermontov would accuse him of megalomania. Therefore, his task now became turning his hero into a pitiful beyond repair being, whose grotesque existence would never elicit envy in anybody…

Bulgakov obviously understood that Master and Margarita had assured his immortality, while he was still alive. Yet, he was too clever to suggest himself as “master.” He understood that identifying himself as master’s prototype would make him look ridiculous and pompous. Which is why his “master” is explicitly riding toward his last retreat between (mind you, not with them!) the “dark-violet knight” (Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin) and the scrawny youth-demon (Mikhail Yurievich Lermontov). The company he finds himself in for the duration of this journey indicates that he must be their peer of sorts, among the literary immortals. As for the reason why he parts company with them, it will be revealed in my chapter master... where the identity of his prototype becomes known.

But even in this Bulgakov tries to befuddle the reader. Woland and Azazello form the rear of the cavalcade from the flanks. What has been left of Margarita is a braid of hair.---

“…His [master’s] hair shone white in the moonlight, and gathered into a braid behind his back, and it was flying in the wind.”

Isn’t it obvious that master couldn’t possibly have a braid of hair. Patients of psychiatric clinics (and he had been one) were given haircuts. [Besides, until this place in the novel, virtually, at the novel’s end, Bulgakov never mentioned master’s long hair. Margarita too had short hair, as she and master were one and the same person. Master’s first appearance as Ivanushka’s nighttime visitor shows him “shaven… with a tuft of hair hanging over his forehead.” Then we see him stepping down the staircase from apartment 50, having grown a beard; we also learn that at the clinic they were cutting his beard with a hair clipper. Apparently, master used to have his face shaved when he was in reasonably decent mental health, but after his visit to Ivanushka’s room he had a relapse, and although they kept cutting his hair, they stopped shaving him.]

Bulgakov describes Woland’s cavalcade ingeniously, yet again forcing his reader to contemplate over the relative position of the fliers.

Margarita converses with Woland over the dark-violet knight, who, as it turns out, is flying on the left hand of Woland. As for Margarita, she places herself between the dark-violet knight and Kot Begemot, who has also lost his former feline appearance, now flying as a knight and demon-page.

Nobody flies on the right hand of Woland. This means that Azazello, flanking the cavalcade on the left side, is flying next to Begemot. Azazello is dressed “in shining armor,” which means that his prototype is also a knight.

And here come very strange words:

“Margarita could not see herself, but she saw well how master had changed.”

And now the question needs to be asked right away: why? Margarita has just described the “jingling golden chain of the rein” of the dark-violet knight, the shining steel armor of Azazello, master’s cloak blowing in the wind, “now fading now lighting up stars of the spurs on his boots,” as well as the rein of Woland’s stallion, comparing the rein to “moon chains,” Woland’s stallion to a “block of darkness,” and the spurs to the “white patches of the stars.”

Why then cannot Margarita describe her cloak, her boots, or her spurs, or the magical horse she is riding upon, or at least the rein?

Perhaps, for the sole reason that Margarita does not exist?

Maybe because this is just another proof that master and Margarita are one and the same person?

Thus the word “braid” is definitely used by Bulgakov allegorically. Although Bulgakov may have been hinting that the braid with the triple interweaving of master’s hair points to the existence of three novels in Master and Margarita (the realistic novel, that is, the best spy novel ever written; the psychological thriller about a man with split personality; and finally the fantastic novel, which is a fantasy love story [Pontius Pilate, which is a “fourth” novel inside the novel, is a separate case]), yet another symbolic significance of the braid in this case will be revealed later, in the chapter Two Adversaries.

To be continued tomorrow.

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