Who is Who in Master?
Posting #5.
“Why are we visited with increasing frequency
by two sentiments: the self-abandonment of
exultation and the self-abandonment of
anguish, despair, indifference? Pretty soon
there will be no more place for other feelings.
Is it because Darkness is already prevailing
around us?”
Alexander Blok. The
People and the Intelligentsia,
While
working on a different chapter, I wrote, quite unexpectedly for myself, that A.
S. Pushkin was Bulgakov’s “idol.” It surprised me how this thought had not come
to me earlier. Without realizing it at first, I had made a big discovery.
Describing a terrible thunderstorm in chapter 25 of Master and Margarita: How the
Procurator Tried to Save Judas from Kyriath, caused by Yeshua’s
crucifixion, M. A. Bulgakov is in
reality providing the researcher with an allegory of his own frightful time of
the first world war with two Russian revolutions followed by a civil war and a
foreign military intervention. On the order signed by the first Soviet
President Yakov Sverdlov in July 1918 the whole family of the Russian Tsar
Nicholas II, including five children, were shot in the basement [sic!] of the
house where they spent the last days of their lives. Isn’t that why Bulgakov
puts master in the basement? N. S. Gumilev, one of master’s three prototypes,
was also shot, thus providing an additional connection.
In
this chapter, through the wrath of God, Bulgakov shows the subsequent
generations the horror of the times he had been living through.
“The darkness that came from the Mediterranean Sea covered
the city…and the heavy hammering of thunder was driving the golden idols into
darkness.”
In
short, blood was flowing in rivers in Russia. Which is why Bulgakov places two
white roses (Blok and Gumilev) in a red puddle, indicative of the spilled
blood.
As
for the “frightful eyeless golden statues flying up
into the black sky, stretching their arms to it,” in this scenario
played out by Bulgakov against the backdrop of Christ’s Crucifixion, they must
be statues of two Russian poets of the Golden Age – A. S. Pushkin and M. Yu.
Lermontov, who themselves died prematurely and are now appealing to God during
a terrible time for Russia.
But,
as Bulgakov writes, “again was the fire from heaven
hiding itself, and the heavy hammering of thunder was driving the golden idols
into darkness.”
This
reminds me that during hard times for the country, especially during the
Revolution, when illiterate people who were ignorant of their nation’s culture,
were taking over the power, the Russian intellectuals had it the hardest.
Thus
for instance, the Russian poet of the Silver Age Alexander Blok, who was
particularly attuned to the life and creative work of Pushkin had to defend the
great poet from vicious attacks of the ‘literary vermin’ in early 20th
century.
These
reprehensible newcomers are very well described by Marina Tsvetaeva in Balmont’s Jubilee, where she
particularly singles out the presentation of the Russian poet Fedor Sologub. –
“There is no equality, and
thank God that there is none. Balmont himself would have been horrified, had
there been such a thing…”
To
which from the audience hall there came threatening outbursts: “Lies! It depends!”
Having
been fascinated by my unexpected discovery, I decided to reread both Tsvetaeva
and Blok. Apart from the “golden idols,” I was always struck by the words in
that same 25th chapter of Master
and Margarita:
“…As soon as the smoking black brew would
be torn asunder by the fire, out of the pitch-black darkness upwards soared the
great block of the Temple with its gleaming scaly covers. But as it died down
for a moment, the Temple would become immersed into the dark chasm, several
times reemerging from it only to plunge back again, and each time this plunge
was accompanied by the rumble of catastrophe.
This
Temple is already in evidence in the 2nd chapter of Pontius Pilate:
“Before the procurator there emerged in its entirety the
so-much-hated by him Yershalaim with its hanging gardens, fortresses, and most
importantly, with that defying-description block of marble with golden dragon
scales instead of a roof. – The Temple of Yershalaim.”
I’ve
always understood that Bulgakov takes this description of the roof from N. S.
Gumilev’s The Poem of the Beginning. Book I. The Dragon. [See my chapter The Garden: Gumilev.] This poem
(1918-1919) was supposed to have 12 parts.
Thus
the Temple’s roof shows me that Bulgakov is pointing to another Russian poet,
in addition to A. S. Pushkin and M. Yu. Lermontov, that poet being N. S.
Gumilev.
Remembering
Alexander Blok, I decided to reread his poetry and also his articles. In one of
these articles: Without Deity, Without
Inspiration (the title is taken from Pushkin), Blok calls the literary vermin:
predators:
“Poetry and prose [in Russia] have formed a single stream which
carried a precious load of Russian culture. In the most recent time [early 20th
century] this stream, breaking into rivulets, may lose strength and fail to
carry on the precious load, dropping it to be pillaged by the predators [sic!]
of whom we have always had enough…”
In
the same article Blok criticizes Gumilev for the fact that having created the Poets’ Workshop, he also created a new
movement in poetry, coming to be known as Acmeism
(from the Greek word akme, meaning the highest point). Gumilev also had
another name for it: Adamism (a
bravely-firm and clear outlook on life).
This
new direction was turned against symbolism. Blok writes that “the majority of Gumilev’s interlocutors were occupied by
thoughts of a totally different kind: a horrible decay was felt in Russian
society, the air smelled of a thunderstorm [sic!], great events were brewing...”
In
other words, calamity was about to strike Russia, just as I wrote about it.
But
how exhilarating it is to receive proof of my thoughts! Blok writes:
“…Writers joined under the sign of Symbolism at that time diverged
among each other in their views and worldviews. They were surrounded by crowds
of epigones trying to sell off in the marketplace precious utensils, exchanging
them for small change…”
V.
Ya. Bryusov, the head of the Symbolist School, together with his
comrades-in-arms, “tried to squeeze the philosophical
and religious movements into some kind of school frames, while from the other
side, the onslaught of the street was getting increasingly intrusive…”
In
other words, all those whom Marina Tsvetaeva called “poetic vermin” were
gaining strength.
And
unexpectedly for myself I am making one more discovery. Yes, Bulgakov read and
knew not only A. A. Blok’s poetry, but his articles as well. Here is a word and
another word proving it. In his article People
and Intelligentsia Blok wrote: “I am an
Intelligent, a litterateur, and my weapon is the word.”
In
three paragraphs at the beginning of chapter 25 of Master and Margarita: How the
Procurator Tried to Save Judas from Kyriath Bulgakov repeats this word five
times, thus drawing special attention to it.
Here
is that word, Here is that Blok’s weapon:
“…The argument [among the Russian poets], an argument of Slavs
among themselves, was basically over [and here it comes!]; the Temple of Symbolism
became empty, its treasures (by no means purely literary) were carefully
carried away by a few; they parted silently and sadly along their lonely ways…”
And
so, the word which Bulgakov repeats 5 times at the beginning of chapter 25 of Master and Margarita is “Temple.”
Aside
from the word “Temple,” there is
another such word in Bulgakov, moving from chapter 24 to chapter 25.” It is the
word “darkness,” repeated 6 times (or
5, if we count the repetition of the same sentence as 1). –
“The darkness that came from the Mediterranean Sea covered
the city so much hated by the Procurator…
And
then:
“Yes, Darkness.”
“Darkness devoured everything, scaring all living things in
Yershalaim and around it…”
“…out of the pitch-black darkness
upwards soared the great block of the Temple…”
“…and the heavy hammering of thunder was driving the golden idols
into the darkness.”
Closing
his article The People and the
Intelligentsia, Blok writes:
“Why are we visited with increasing frequency by two sentiments:
the self-abandonment of exultation and the self-abandonment of anguish,
despair, indifference? Pretty soon there will be no more place for other
feelings. Is it because Darkness is already prevailing around us? In
this darkness each of us no longer feels another, feeling only his own
self. It is already possible to imagine, as it happens in nightmares, that this
darkness happens because hanging over us is the shaggy chest of a
wheelhorse, and heavy hooves are ready to descend on us.”
This
is why Bulgakov is so much attracted to the word “darkness.” It is because of
Blok’s article.
To
be continued…
***
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