Alpha And Omega.
Posting #5.
“...To learn wise
sweet pain
In her languor and
delirium...”
N. S. Gumilev. She.
In
N. S. Gumilev’s next collection of poetry Alien
Sky, published in 1912, we find the poem She:
“I
know a woman: silence,
A bitter weariness from words,
She lives in a mysterious
twinkling
Of her expanded eye pupils…”
This
is how Gumilev opens his poem. The word “woman” occurs already in the first
line, and he never repeats it again.
In
the 13th chapter of Bulgakov’s White
Guard where Yulia Alexandrovna Reise saves the life of the hero Alexei
Turbin on page 9, the word “woman” interchanging with “she” occurs 18 times. We
find it already 8 times on the first page of the chapter. On other pages, the
pronoun “she” can be found in lieu of “woman.”
And
even after the woman introduces herself to Alexei Turbin as Yulia Alexandrovna
Reise, M. A. Bulgakov continues to call her either “woman” or “she.” The word
“she” occurs on those nine pages 46 times.
Bulgakov
also uses Gumilev’s expression from his poem She: “in a mysterious twinkling of her expanded eye pupils.”
In
Bulgakov’s White Guard it is
transformed into the following:
“...Her enormous from fear eyes glowing, she shouted: Officer! This way! This way!”
“...The woman’s eyes appeared close to Turbin’s eyes. He vaguely
read in them determination, action, and blackness.”
“...Now he saw up close the light-colored curls of her hair and
very black eyes of hers.”
“...Her eyes widened, she tried to understand, and understood.”
“...And a smile barely flittered in her eyes.”
“...Her eyes sparkled.”
“...She responded with a certain strain and reverting her eyes
sideways.”
“...Charcoal eyebrows and black eyes.”
“...It was hard to
figure out whatever that was in her eyes. It could be fear or alarm or maybe
vice. Yes, vice!”
“...Her frightened eyes became alert and deepened in the shadows.”
“...She was all
the more inquiringly peering into [Alexei Turbin’s] face.”
“...And her eyes
at that moment appeared of extraordinary beauty.”
Now
continuing with Gumilev’s poem She:
“...Her
soul is avidly open
Only to the brass music of
the verse,
Before ordinary and
gratifying life
She is haughty and deaf...”
And
this is how Bulgakov paints his heroine in White
Guard. Facing danger, seeing Petlura’s cutthroats chasing after a Russian
officer, the soul of Yulia Alexandrovna Reise opened up, and she was able to
save Alexei Turbin. It is quite possible that another reason was the fact that
her father had been a Russian Army officer, as indicated by the old portrait
and the golden epaulettes.
Back
to Gumilev:
“...Soundless
and unhurried,
Her step is so strangely
smooth...”
After
the woman-savior had taken Alexei Turbin through three gates and three
neighboring gardens, forming a maze, “Turbin heard
that there, behind them were left the street and the chasers... Around him
everything was whirling a little bit. The woman bent and picked Turbin up under
his right arm…”
But
the legs – not of the woman, but of the wounded hero – “were weakening.” They
needed to be running, to be in a hurry, but strength was draining out of Alexei
Turbin.
In
other words, in this first sequence of saving the hero, the woman could not
allow herself to be “soundless,” and especially “unhurried” and “smooth,” like
Gumilev’s “She.” But, of course, one
can use ideas from poetry contrarily, like Bulgakov frequently does it in his
works.
Having
brought Turbin into the safety of her little house and eliminated all traces
of blood and Turbin’s clothes, including the famous “reithosen” in connection
with all other articles, only then could Yulia Alexandrovna Reise allow herself
to be all those things again: “soundless, unhurried, and smooth,” as Gumilev
describes her in his poem She.
How
does Bulgakov show that in White Guard?
Pay attention to the following words:
“In the dead of night [after all the necessary cleanup had been
done], Reise, wearing soft fur-lined slippers came here [to the room where she lodged
Alexei Turbin] and sat by his side; and again, putting his arm around her neck
and growing weaker, he was walking through the small rooms of this mysterious
little house...”
It
is impossible to disagree with Gumilev’s words in his poem She:
“...She
cannot be called beautiful...”
[judging
from the description of Yulia Alexandrovna Reise, given in this chapter]
“...But
all my happiness is in her...”
As
Bulgakov writes:
“...Completely undeterminable hair, either ashen and pierced with
fire [from the stove] or golden, and charcoal eyebrows and black eyes. It’s
hard to figure out whether that irregular profile can be called beautiful with
its aquiline nose and whatever that is in her eyes. It may be fear or alarm or
maybe vice... Yes, vice...”
And
this is how Bulgakov closes this passage:
“...When she is sitting like this and a wave of heat is washing
through her, she appears wonderful, attractive. The savior.”
In
this woman’s hands was not just Alexei Turbin’s “happiness,” but his life
itself.
Back
to Gumilev:
“...When
I crave for willfulnesses,
Daring and proud, I go to
her...”
In
Bulgakov, it is Yulia Alexandrovna Reise who comes to the wounded Turbin at
night to check on him and to stroke his head:
“Then all his blunt and wicked pain spilled out of his head, flowed
from his temples into her soft hands, and down her body onto the floor, covered
by a dusty fluffy rug, and died there.”
The
same words explain the following lines of Gumilev from his poem She:
“...To
learn wise sweet pain
In her languor and
delirium...”
I
have already explained that Bulgakov writes using the poetry of Russian poets
in his own way, which makes it so difficult to solve his puzzles. Yes, here we
need Sherlock Holmes with the flair of his creator Arthur Conan Doyle.
In
Bulgakov, it is his hero Alexei Turbin lying in sweet pain, languor, and
delirium because of the presence of his woman-savior.
To
be continued…
***
No comments:
Post a Comment