Saturday, March 11, 2017

GALINA SEDOVA’S BULGAKOV. CCCXXIX



Strangers In The Night.
Alexander Blok. Falling In Love.
Ophelia.


I’m Hamlet. And the blood is freezing
When perfidy is weaving its nets,
And in the heart the first love is alive,
Love for the only one in the world…

Alexander Blok. I am Hamlet.

Within Blok’s “Shakespearean” cycle Bubbles in the Earth there is a delightful poem titled Echo, which is directly connected to the Ophelian theme. It also gives a very simple explanation to Blokian repetitions, taken by him from the effect of the echo:

I call, and triply and ringing from afar
Responds to me the nymph, Echo responds…

Here we find a direct connection with Ophelia, whom Blok calls “Nymph,” after Shakespeare, in his poetry cycle Ante Lucem:

The fair Ophelia – Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.

In the poem Echo Blok jokingly (if I can put it this way) shows what happened to Ophelia:

…As though into the fields of a golden sunset,
Tormented by the god-child [Cupid] and filled with laughter…
See! There falls Echo, caught by the god,
And passionate is the swirl, and sweet is the fall [sic!].
And her laughter resounds in a long repetition
Under the guiltless sky…
And passions and deaths, and deaths and passions…
Of autumn decors and bangles…

Of a particular significance are the words: And passionate is the swirl [that is, the courting], and sweet is the fall,after which comes the reckoning. After passion, death steps in. This has a direct bearing on both Ophelia and Hamlet.

***


The penchant for repeating the same words several times in a row is characteristic of Blok in his poems, even aside from his all-too-frequent “Ah, Ah!” I’d like to give an example from Blok’s 1904-1908 poetry cycle The City. Blok’s title of this 1905 poem is A Legend.

Lord, can you hear? Lord, will you forgive?..
Into a dead-end street at midnight
Came out cheerful girls. There were two of them.
But someone Third was behind them, right behind them…
He was unknown to one of them, unknown to one of them…
And one said: Can you hear? – she said,
Oh, how scary, my friend, is to be with you!
And this girl was in white… in white…
And the other in black… Was she your daughter?
And one was trembling with her weak body,
And the other was laughing, running into the night.
Lord, can you hear? Mercy! Oh Mercy!
The other was laughing, running away,
And in the dead street there remained
The Third, she [the girl in white], and the night.
But it seemed so close… it seemed so close,
Glimmering, walks, barely nascent dawn…"

As I said before, Blok’s peculiar manner of repeating words and phrases in his poems was noticed by Bulgakov, and he introduces such repetitions wherever master is present, starting with chapter 13, Appearance of the Hero. The very title of Bulgakov’s 13th chapter comes from Blok’s poetry. As Blok writes in an untitled 1907 poem –

When I was creating the hero,
Shattering the flint, separating the layers,
What eternal rest filled the earth!
But in the newly-coloring blueness
A fight was already going on
Between light and darkness…

These repetitions start with the simple Blokian “Ah, Ah!” – which Blok has been so famous for.
Thus, in the course of a single paragraph, we encounter four (!) Ah’s:

Ah, that was the Golden Age!, whispered the storyteller [master], his eyes sparkling. Facing [the window], some four steps away under the fence grew lilacs, linden and a maple tree. Ah, ah, ah!

And then, practically in the same place of the novel:

Ah, ah! How upset am I that it was you who met him, and not I.

Ah, what furniture I had!

Next, they evolve into more complex repetitions, which prove that master and Margarita are one and the same person.

 “Please guess that I am in trouble... Come, come, come!...
But nobody came... I took out of the desk drawer the manuscripts of the novel and the draft notebooks and started burning them… Then somebody started scratching the window glass from the outside... softly... Who’s there?.. And a voice, her voice, answered me: ‘That’s me.’ ‘.You, you…’ and my voice stopped… With her bare hands she pulled out of the fire onto the floor the last of what was left there… I stamped out the fire with my feet.
I developed a hatred for this novel, and I am afraid, I am sick…
Oh, God, how sick you are. But I will save you, I will save you, I will cure you, cure you. Why, why haven’t I kept at least one copy with me?

And back to Block’s ending of the poem A Legend:

"...She was left all alone…
And the Heaven responded…
And the crowd was thundering. And the storm was bursting with laughter.
An Angel took the girl in white to His House.

How Shakespearian! How Ophelian!


To be continued…

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