Alpha And Omega.
Posting #31.
“Like on the previous day, Mr. Colonel was girded
with a silver sword, but for some reason the
thousand lights were no longer playing on
the silver imagery.”
with a silver sword, but for some reason the
thousand lights were no longer playing on
the silver imagery.”
M. Bulgakov. White
Guard.
Suddenly,
there was a man, the only one who came to Col. Malyshev’s defense. It was
Karas, whose prototype is the Russian poet N. S. Gumilev. At the time in 1918
when V. Ya. Bryusov was being attacked by “poetic vermin,” according to Marina
Tsvetaeva, Gumilev came to his defense. As the reader surely remembers, Gumilev
in one of his articles went so far as to call Bryusov a “Peter the Great” for bringing
a new movement into Russian literature, namely, Symbolism. In his turn, when
Gumilev found himself in great trouble in 1921, Bryusov made an effort to help
Gumilev, which unfortunately came to naught, as Gumilev’s trial and execution
had happened too fast for anyone to interfere with any chance of success. [See
my chapter The Garden: Caiaphas.]
Having
suddenly received support from Karas, “the Colonel
thrust an exceptionally sharp glance into Studzinsky. In Mr. Colonel’s eyes,
sparks of real irritation were jumping, on Studzinsky’s account.”
It
becomes perfectly clear here that Pontius Pilate and Colonel Malyshev have one
and the same prototype, namely, V. Ya. Bryusov. There is a certain similarity
between the two situations, that is, the arrest of Yeshua and the attempted
arrest of Colonel Malyshev at the end of chapter 7 of White Guard.
It
also becomes clear from the interesting device which Bulgakov is using here,
namely, drawing attention to Pontius Pilate’s eyes, and to the eyes of Colonel
Malyshev.
Here
is Master and Margarita (1940):
“A
good man? – asked Pilate, and a devilish fire sparked in his eyes.”
“He lit the chandeliers?
– Pilate mimicked the prisoner through his teeth, and his eyes flickered as he
was saying that.”
And
here is White Guard (1924):
“…With that, the Colonel thrust an exceptionally sharp glance into
Studzinsky. In the Colonel’s eyes, sparks of real irritation were jumping, on
Studzinsky’s account.”
Which
leads us to the question: What really happened between these two Russian poets?
This is what I find in Marina Tsvetaeva’s memoirs:
“Balmont and Bryusov have truly divided between themselves the
saying: Put your hope in God (Balmont)
but do not fail yourself (Bryusov).”
And
also this:
“The joy of obedience (Balmont). The joy of conquest (Bryusov).
With the current of his own gift (Balmont). Against the current of his own
giftlessness (Bryusov).”
Bulgakov
obviously went along with Bryusov, making him a “colonel” of the Silver Age in
Russian literature:
“Like on the previous day, Mr. Colonel was girded with a silver
sword [sic!], but for some reason the thousand lights were no longer
playing on the silver imagery.”
Here
Bulgakov is reacting to the fact that the vermin of poetry of the time had been
mounting an attack on Bryusov’s authority. By the same token, they were also
trying to throw off their pedestals all other great poets of the Silver Age.
The vermin were no good as poets, and they wanted to prove that the greats had
outlived their attraction. (See my chapter The
Garden: Caiaphas, where I am analyzing Blok’s article The People and the Intelligentsia.)
And
in the 18th chapter of Master
and Margarita, while describing the anteroom in the “no-good apartment #50,”
Bulgakov writes:
“The whole large and semi-dark anteroom was jam-packed with unusual
objects and garments. Thus a mourning-black cloak, lined with some flaming
cloth was thrown on the back of a chair. A long sword with a glittering golden
hilt was lying on the console table under the mirror. Three swords with silver
hilts were standing upright in the corner, as plainly as some umbrellas or walking
sticks…”
But
there is a more serious aspect, which is apparently missed by all researchers
of Bulgakov’s works. It is the persistent emphasis on the word “student” in the
novel White Guard. It centers around the
personage of Karas.
According
to N. S. Gumilev’s first wife Anna Akhmatova, respecting the wish of his father,
a navy surgeon in Kronstadt, after his graduation from school, Gumilev spent one
summer aboard a ship. This is the reason why Bulgakov names him Karas, which in
navy jargon means a first-year sailor.
Thus,
introducing Karas, Bulgakov opens the eyes of all his attentive readers that
behind this personage hides the great Russian poet and writer N. S. Gumilev.
Returning to Russia from abroad, Gumilev continued teaching students how to
write poetry. The most famous group he taught was called The Sounding Shell. Bulgakov in Master
and Margarita used the Russian word “rakovina” (having two meanings: shell and sink) to draw the researcher’s attention to the fact that one of
the prototypes of master in the novel is indeed N. S. Gumilev. (See my posted
chapter A Swallow’s Nest of Luminaries:
Mr. Lastochkin.)
In
order to make more assertive his point that N. S. Gumilev is one of master’s
prototypes, M. A. Bulgakov goes even further in the 17th chapter of Master and Margarita: A Troublesome Day,
as it is in this chapter that Mr. Lastochkin appears, one of the personages
whose prototype happens to be N. S. Gumilev.
And
what a bold move! Bulgakov daringly supplies Lastochkin with the same
patronymic, Stepanovich, as that of Gumilev. When Bulgakov was writing his Diaboliada, he was far more careful,
giving his hero the name Varfolomei Petrovich Korotkov. I had a good reason to
be drawn to this surreal novella [see my posted chapter Diaboliada], and even though I couldn’t at first discern N. S.
Gumilev in V. P. Korotkov [sic!], I was by no means wide of the mark when I
concluded at that early time that Bulgakov’s Korotkov had to be a Russian
officer. And, of course, N. S. Gumilev was a decorated Russian officer as well.
[Also see my posted chapter A Swallow’s
Nest of Luminaries: Mr. Lastochkin for more.]
It
is amazing that in the same 17th chapter of Master and Margarita: A Troublesome Day, Bulgakov points to an
organization which includes a variety of “circles,” “clubs” [kruzhki]. The word
“kruzhok” also comes up in the 26th chapter The Burial, indicating that in Gumilev’s case nothing like a proper
burial had taken place.
Imagine
how the accountant V. S. Lastochkin (whose prototype is N. S. Gumilev) must
have felt, to hear about himself…
To
be continued…
***
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