Who is Professor Persikov in Reality?
Posting #2.
“Inside
the red strip, and then all over the disc,
the
place became overcrowded,
and the inevitable struggle began.”
M. Bulgakov. Fateful
Eggs.
On
page 3 of the novella Fateful Eggs Bulgakov
writes that Professor Persikov “was peering into the
jaws of the fiery furnace.”
Using
the word “fiery,” Bulgakov points to Valery Bryusov who, as the reader knows,
had written the novel The Fiery Angel about
his affair with a married woman, the Russian poetess Nina Petrovskaya, who was
simultaneously a mistress of the Russian poet Andrei Bely.
In
chapter 2 The Curl of Color we
already have the appearance of the “misty pale crescent sickle,” pointing to
the world of V. Ya. Bryusov. It is for a good reason that Bulgakov writes on
the next page that in Professor Persikov’s microscope one can see a “curl of
color that looks like a woman’s ringlet of hair.” Thus Bulgakov alludes to the
“lunar femininity” of Bryusov’s verses.
However,
the sly Bulgakov does not stop with the crescent, but also introduces “the sun”
into his story, which leads us to the Russian poet K. D. Balmont, who, as the
reader knows, wrote the poetry collection Let
Us Be Like the Sun.
It
is also Balmont who happens to be the prototype of the chief of secret police
Afranius in Bulgakov’s subnovel Pontius
Pilate, as well as of Archibald Archibaldovich, Professor Bure, and Dr.
Stravinsky in the novel Master and
Margarita.
Thinking
that the life he saw under the microscope could be “from the sun, Professor
Persikov opened the black heavy drapes on the windows of his study. The sun was
now in evidence. Here it was pouring over the walls of the Institute. Before
leaving he Institute for the day, he covered the microscope with a glass dome.”
We
need to note here that Bulgakov had already tried his hand at what really happened
in Russian literature in the post-Revolution period. Having come to live in
Moscow, Bulgakov must have been acquainted with V. Ya. Bryusov, who was in
charge of LITO (Literary Department), and was clearly adept in the literary
kitchen of that time. The novella Fateful
Eggs was written in 1925 when V. Bryusov was already dead.
In
the 25th chapter of Master and
Margarita: How the Procurator Tried to Save Judas from Kyriath [see my
chapter The Garden: Caiaphas],
Bulgakov was extensively using material on the state of literature of the early
post-Revolution time in Soviet Russia. The Russian poet Alexander Blok had
already had strong suspicions of what to expect regarding his own future. His
suspicions were justified. In 1921, Blok died in Petrograd at the age of 41.
Several days later another great Russian poet N. S. Gumilev was executed by a
firing squad.
Both
in the subnovel Pontius Pilate and in
the 1925 novella Fateful Eggs,
Bulgakov shows how the literary and poetry vermin (in Marina Tsvetaeva’s words)
hounded Russian poets, both dead (A. S. Pushkin) and alive (Blok, Gumilev,
Bryusov, Mayakovsky, Yesenin).
In
the 3rd chapter Persikov
Caught It, Bulgakov explains what it was exactly that was caught:
“In the multicolored curl, especially vivid
and thick was one particular beam. This beam was of bright-red color and
protruded out of the curl like a tiny blade, well, say, like a needle or
something.
In it, in this beam, the professor was able
to discern what was a thousand times more significant and important than the
beam itself, an unstable infant born accidentally during the movement of the
mirror and lens of the microscope. As a result of the assistant calling the
professor away, the amoebae stayed under the effect of the beam for an hour and
a half, and this is what happened. While in the disk outside the beam the
grainy amoebae were lying feebly and helplessly, inside the area where the red
sharpened sword was having its effect, strange phenomena were taking place.
Life was seething within the red strip. Grayish amoebae were using every last
effort to draw themselves toward the red strip, and in it (as though by magic)
they were revived. Some kind of force breathed the spirit of life into them.”
You
bet! This is how Bulgakov shows the effect of the Revolution on the literary
scene in Soviet Russia, when talentless nonentities insisted on publishing
their good-for-nothing illiterate products, at best stolen from the works of
the preceding generations of writers and poets. Meanwhile, Bulgakov continues:
“…They advanced in numbers and fought each
other for a place under the beam. Right there, a crazy, for want of another
word, reproduction was underway breaking and overturning all laws known to
Persikov.”
Here
Bulgakov explains that at the Bryusov Institute, beginning poets were taught
how to write verses in accordance with certain rules. Now all these rules were
broken.
“…Within a few moments, these organisms
were reaching the proper size and maturity just so that in their turn they
could produce the next generation…”
What
Bulgakov has in mind here is that every month new literary movements were
popping up.
“Inside the red strip, and then all over
the disc, the place became overcrowded, and the inevitable struggle began…”
These
new literary movements were fighting each other.
“The newly-borns fiercely attacked each
other, tore each other into pieces, and devoured them. The best and the
strongest of them were the winners. And these best were horrid. To begin with,
their size was approximately twice as large as that of the regular amoebae, and
secondly, they were distinguished by some kind of special ferocity and agility.”
See
also my chapter Fateful Eggs.
In this 3rd
chapter of Fateful Eggs, Bulgakov
already uses the word “samokrutka” [rolly], once again confusing the
researcher:
“On the second night, the professor, withdrawn and pale without
food, was energizing himself only with thick rollies, studying the new
generation of the amoebae…” (That is, the
new generation of poets.)
This
is how Bulgakov points out that Bryusov was an original poet bringing Symbolism
into Russian poetry and exerting a major influence on Russian literature,
“rolling his own cigarettes=verses.”
Bulgakov’s
line “whether it was from the electricity
or also from the sun” points to Mayakovsky (electricity) and Balmont (the
sun).
It
is also amazing that Bulgakov gives Professor Persikov’s assistant the name of
Privatdozent Ivanov. While the prototype of Professor Persikov is V. Ya.
Bryusov, the prototype of Professor Persikov’s assistant is the Russian poet
Vyacheslav Ivanov, with his “sunny masculinity.”
Thus,
Bulgakov persists in confusing the
researcher. Ironically, he had also confused me until I realized the presence
of Gumilev in Bulgakov’s works, and had started reading him with far greater
attention some time later, far later.
It
is becoming increasingly clear, though, that it is not Vyacheslav Ivanov whom
Bulgakov has in mind, but rather K. D. Balmont, who wrote the poetry collection
Let Us Be Like the Sun.
Bulgakov
gives Balmont away by means of his “sharp blond beard” and in the Theatrical Novel by means of the “French
beard” of Gavrila Stepanovich No-Last-Name. There is also that “three-legged
taburet,” of which I was writing in my chapter The Bard: Barbarian at the Gate: Professor Kuzmin, where I
indicated that Professor Bure has Balmont as his prototype, together with Afranius
in Pontius Pilate and Archibald
Archibaldovich in Master and Margarita
proper.
The
“three-legged taburet” is a representation of Balmont’s three most famous
poetry collections: Let Us Be Like the
Sun, Only Love, and Burning Buildings.
The
first letters of Professor Persikov’s first name, patronymic, and surname –
Vladimir Ivanovich Persikov – VIP – show that their bearer, as well as his prototype
Bryusov, must indeed be very important persons, which is true, of course.
Bulgakov’s Bryusov is the prototype of several characters, be that M. A.
Berlioz, Pontius Pilate, Professor Kuzmin, or Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoy.
To
be continued…
***
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