Who is Who in Master?
Posting #9.
“…But
all these strange creations,
Alone
at home, he is reading by himself,
And
afterwards, quite mindlessly,
He
lights his fireplace with them…”
M. Lermontov. The
Journalist, The Reader, And The Writer.
We
are now left with the study of chapter 24 of Bulgakov’s novel Master and Margarita: The Extraction of
Master, in which Margarita summons her “lover,
master.”
Here
from the very beginning Bulgakov takes his material from Blokian poetry, but
master himself when he appears is every inch of Andrei Bely the way he is
portrayed in Marina Tsvetaeva’s memoirs. A hunted-down man.
Also
pointing to Andrei Bely are Bulgakov’s words when master explains to Woland
that he cannot show him his novel Pontius
Pilate:
“Regrettably, I cannot do
that because I have burned it in the stove.”
The
whole scene of the novel’s burning refers in chapter 13 of Master and Margarita: The Appearance of the Hero to the Russian
poet Andrei Bely, as it was he who got himself in trouble with both critics and
litterateurs on account of his poetry collection Ash, and Bulgakov makes maximum use of the word “ash” in that
burning scene of Chapter 13.
As
for the scene of master’s drinking back to health, it wholly pertains to Blok.
To begin with, he wrote:
“I’m
nailed to a bar counter,
I’m
long drunk, it’s all the same to me…”
And
then, of course, it was because of Blok’s poem The Twelve, where at the end he introduces the person of Jesus
Christ, that he got into a very unpleasant situation. Blok would go to the
extreme of trying to destroy all copies of the poem, but naturally he did not
succeed in that. In our library we had a splendid edition of the book with
striking black-and-white woodcuts in it.
Also
pointing to Blok are the following words of Bulgakov taken by him from Blok’s
poetry:
“And the shotglass winked…”
The
fact that it was Blok in the person of master is further supported by the fact
that it was the Knight Koroviev (A. S. Pushkin) who “drank” master back to
health, as Blok was the closest to Pushkin among the poets of the Silver Age.
But
here is master addressing Kot Begemot:
“…But forgive me... that was...
that... you... He [master] faltered,
not knowing how to address the cat. – You
that same cat who got on the tram?—
Me!—confirmed the flattered cat and added: It is gratifying to hear how so politely
you are treating a cat. Cats, for some reason, are usually addressed
as ‘thou’, although there hasn’t ever been a cat who drank with anybody to
Bruderschaft.—
For some reason it seems to
me that you are not quite a cat, replied master with some hesitation.”
What
catches the eye right away is that master doubts that he is talking to a cat.
Bulgakov gets away with it so easily because all his readers are treating Master and Margarita as merely a
fantastical novel. What stupidity! Historically Satan went with a poodle, at
least Goethe says so. But historically in Russian and European folklore the
demonic crowd was associated with black cats. (I am writing about it in my
chapter on Russian Mysticism.)
This
is why Bulgakov produces a black cat and constantly reminds us that this cat is
not quite a cat, as it changes into human form from time to time.
The
reader already knows from me that Kot Begemot’s prototype is the Russian poet
of the Golden Age M. Yu. Lermontov. Hence, master’s great respect for him. And
everything is solved by the single word: “tram,” pointing to N. S. Gumilev’s
famous poem The Tram That Lost Its Way,
which allegorizes human life.
Once
master thinks that the cat is not quite a cat, the answer clearly must be
sought in N. S. Gumilev’s poetry. Every admirer of his surely knows his poem Marquis de Carabas, which was highly
praised by Bryusov, who called it “an absolute idyll.”
Gumilev
calls the cat: “My good cat, my learned
cat.” But here is the trouble: Gumilev’s cat is white, not black. Gumilev
placed this poem in his poetry collection Pearls,
so titled in honor of M. Yu. Lermontov, on account of the latter’s 1840
poem Journalist, Reader, and Writer.
“Writer.
And
what is there to write about? There comes a time
When
the burden of worries is lifted,
Days
of an inspired work,
When
both the mind and heart are full
And
rhymes are friendly like the waves,
Murmuring
[sic!] one after another,
Gushing
in free sequence…
The
wondrous luminary rises
In
half-awakened soul;
And
words are stringing along like pearls
Onto
thoughts breathing with strength...”
The
last two lines above explain Gumilev’s own title: Pearls are the words of a poet.
I
am finding another Gumilev poem. Its title is Hippopotamus, which corresponds to the cat’s name Begemot. This poem is a brilliant
translation from the 19th-century French poet Theophile Gauthier,
whom Gumilev liked very much.
Here
I have more luck. This is how the poem ends:
“…And
I am the hippopotamus’ kin:
Clad in the armor of my shrines,
Walking solemnly and
straightforward,
Fearless in the midst of
deserts.”
Even
though this is a faithful translation from Gauthier, it is obvious that Gumilev
identifies himself with the hippopotamus and sees himself clad in his sacred
convictions, fearlessly walking through deserts, solemn and unbent.
Gumilev
saw himself in the likeness of Lermontov, who was also fearless and volunteered
for active military service at a front of bloody war.
Therefore,
Bulgakov must have taken this into consideration giving his Kot the name
Begemot.
To
be continued…
***
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