The Bard.
Berlioz Is
Dead.
Kuzmin Is In
Leeches.
Long Live
Bosoy!
Posting #11.
“Forgive me but what
refreshments are you
talking about? What are you doing here?”
M. Bulgakov. Master and Margarita.
In
Koroviev’s last name I can clearly see the word “krov’,” indicating that A. S.
Pushkin bled to death as a result of an international conspiracy of scoundrels
leading to a duel. I already wrote that the threesome of Gretsch, Senkovsky and
Bulgarin remained foreigners despite their official Russification. As a freemason,
Gretsch was particularly instrumental in his travels. But Senkovsky, too, had
his story to tell. A story directly related to Pushkin’s. Having fallen in love
with a girl who turned him down, he without flinching married the girl’s
sister, just to remain closer to the one he loved. The same was done by the
Frenchman D’Anthes who, in deliberate pursuit of Pushkin’s wife Natalia
Goncharova, married her unsuspecting sister just to have a legitimate reason to
stay close to Natalia, leading to the tragic duel, in which the expert shot
D’Anthes shot through Pushkin’s liver, knowing all-too-well that his shot was
bringing not an instant painless death, but a slow agonizing torment eventually
resulting in death. Pushkin painfully bled to death in the apotheosis of a
wicked conspiracy targeting him as the leading voice against European
anti-Russian prejudice set in motion by the Austrian Prince Metternich repaying
Russia’s kindness of liberating Europe – Austria included – from her conqueror
Napoleon.
This,
of course, goes in parallel to the fact that the circle of Pushkin-haters and
enviers from literature was widening in Russia. They all wanted him dead, if
not for politics, then for a larger place under the sun.
Koroviev…
krov’…
To
make a long story short, in the aftermath of Pushkin’s death D’Anthes fled to
France with his wife in tow, where the poor woman, finally realizing her role
in the sordid affair, ended her days in supplications to the Lord Almighty of
the Russian Orthodox Church... Alas, it would have been so much better for her
to never have left Russia, and even better not to have married the scoundrel at
all.
In
his conversation with Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoy, it is now Koroviev who goes on
the offensive.
“Wouldn’t you like some
refreshment, Nikanor Ivanovich? Without any ceremonies! Hey?”
Here
the text becomes even more convoluted, like in a good detective novel. The
point is that the action is taking place in the study of the late M. A.
Berlioz, where manuscripts and other papers are kept under seal by the
authorities, including Berlioz’s deputy in Massolit the litterateur Zheldobin.
There
is a good reason why Bulgakov writes in his Notes
of a Physician that having worked in rural areas had turned him into a
veritable Sherlock Holmes, thanks to the Russian peasant women. A good
detective must be able to get into the mind of any criminal, and act
accordingly.
This
is why in this particular place the researcher stands on shaky ground. Pushkin
is only performing the role of the real
Vyzhigin, but in reality he is not what he acts to be. Pushkin was a
profound expert on how the human mind works and on human nature as such.
Otherwise he would not have been able to create such deep works as Boris Godunov, Mozart and Saglieri, Ruslan
and Lyudmila, to name just a few.
In
reply to Koroviev’s offer of refreshments, Bosoy is seething with indignation:
“Forgive me but what
refreshments are you talking about? What are you doing here?”
Using
the word “refreshments,” Bulgakov is alluding to the scenes from Pushkin’s
manuscript of Boris Godunov, stolen
by Bulgarin sneaking into the study of Benkendorf, where the manuscript was
kept to be censored, which took some considerable time. It is very probable
that in the scene between Koroviev and Bosoy, Bulgakov is reconstructing one of
such scenes when Bulgarin is caught red-handed stealing A. S. Pushkin’s
manuscript from Benkendorf’s study. How does the trickster behave having been
found out?
“Please do sit down, don’t be
shy! – yelled the citizen without losing his cool, and started to hustle
around the Chairman.”
Observe
that Bulgakov uses the term Chairman in relation to both Berlioz and Bosoy.
Meanwhile,
Bosoy becomes completely furious. “Now,
who would you be, I am asking?” An
unperturbed Koroviev finally gets down to explanations.
“If you kindly deign to see,
I happen to serve as translator to the person of a foreigner holding residence
in this apartment – the man calling himself Koroviev introduced himself,
clicking the heel of his reddish unpolished shoe.”
There
is plenty of important material here for both the reader and the researcher. I
am beginning with the end of the passage.
“...clicking the heel of his red unpolished shoe.”
This
passage clearly indicates that Koroviev either served in the army [like
Bulgarin and Vyzhigin] or got himself into the role of a former military man
[that selfsame Bulgarin or the “real Vyzhigin”?] At any rate Koroviev
introduced himself to Bosoy for some reason in a military manner.
Calling
himself “a translator to the person of a
foreigner,” Koroviev may be alluding to Count Benkendorf, who was of Baltic
German extraction.
As
for the color of Koroviev’s shoes, I already wrote in my chapter Alpha and Omega where Bulgakov’s
predisposition for the reddish color is coming from. Pushkin’s first son was
born a redhead. In a letter to his wife of October 21, 1833, Pushkin writes:
“And how about Sashka the
read-head? Who’s he taking after, I wonder? I never expected this from him.”
Here
is a good reason for the researcher. Neither the reader nor the researcher even
suspect that under the guise of the Checkered One, or Koroviev, hides the great
Russian poet A. S. Pushkin.
Returning
now to the storyline of the novel Master
and Margarita proper. It is quite clear why Bulgakov calls Woland a
foreigner. He wants to confuse the reader. The point is that having lost the
manuscript of his revised version of Gold
in Azure, Andrei Bely, according to Marina Tsvetaeva’s memoirs, comes to
the conclusion that his former teacher Rudolf Steiner had something to do with
it, and calls him the devil. However, Bulgakov has a different devil in mind,
choosing for this role the Russian revolutionary poet of the first third of the
20th century: V. V. Mayakovsky (for more see my chapter Woland Identity), sporting certain
features of Andrei Bely, especially in the 1st and 3rd
chapters of Master and Margarita, as
well as in the 18th chapter: The
Hapless Visitors.
The
appearance of Gella (whose prototype is Lilya Brik) during the opening of the
Ladies’ Store in Chapter 12 of Master and
Margarita: A Séance of Black Magic,
changes the whole picture. [For more, see my chapters The Spy Novel and A Swallow’s
Nest of Luminaries: The Lion and the Servant Maiden.]
To
be continued…
***
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