Guests at
Satan’s Great Ball.
(The
20-Year-Old Lad Matures.)
Posting #25.
“…There
were no sounds there in the twilight…”
A. Blok. Verses About a Fair Lady.
Apparently, after the illusions of love between him
and his wife, Blok’s disillusionment came all too soon, since this is what he
writes in his cruelly candid realization:
“I
was only an accidental encounter for her,
Only
someone she met on her way.
But
that childish ardor cooled down,
And
she told me: Goodbye.”
Remembering himself as a young man, Blok writes:
“…And
my soul is filled with that same love,
And
minutes with others are poisoned for me,
The
same thought and the same song
Where
sounding to me today in my sleep…”
And also a third, following, poem relates to the same
woman, namely, Blok’s wife, as he is filled with anguish and torment because of
the utter failure of his love:
“…I
remember with an otherworldly sadness
All
my past, as it were yesterday…
I
recognize you in my sad dreams,
And
I grip with my hands
Your
enchantress’s hand,
Repeating
the faraway name.”
Here already we feel Blok’s admission of guilt and
suffering before his wife.
I have already written that Lyubov Dmitriyevna
Mendeleeva might simply have not coped with the ambiguity of her relationship
with the two geniuses – Alexander Blok and Andrei Bely. Not being a genius
herself, she mentally collapsed and eventually perished.
I would like to end this story on a more positive
note. Bulgakov is writing about a “20-year-old lad.” A. Blok was born in 1880
and the twentieth century started in 1901. In the same year 1901, Blok started
writing his first poetry cycle of Verses
About a Fair Lady, having written a total of 6 such cycles in two years.
Which is why Bulgakov’s “twenty-year-old lad” may refer not to a twenty-year-old Blok, but
to the twentieth century as such, and if we look with special attention at the
first letters of the phrase “Prekrasnaya
Dama” [“Fair Lady”]: “PD” which in the Russian language can
also signify “Publichny Dom” [“Brothel”].
This is how Blok associates the “Fair Lady,” his poetic Muse, with a brothel, to which he is taking
his Muse!
But even this idea is taken by M. Bulgakov from the
Russian poetess Marina Tsvetaeva and her memoirs about Andrei Bely: “A Captive Spirit.”
Tsvetaeva, as always in her memoirs, describes in a
literate form the musings of her aunt:
“The
Last Days have arrived! – she [the aunt] was boiling and foaming at my
father who was inconspicuously moving away from her. – Now some guy called Andrei Bely has popped up. He is giving a lecture
tomorrow. A Gorky – Maxim is not enough for them anymore. They have found this
Bely – Andrei! And then comes this Alexander Blok. What kind of name is that?
Must be one of the yids! Composed that Fair Dame, you know. The title alone
speaks for itself. In earlier days they wrote about Dames, of course, but they
did not publish, hid that stuff in the desk, meant for a company of buddies…”
In the 4th cycle of the Verses About a Fair Lady, Blok is
describing one such brothel:
“There
– in the street there was a certain house,
And a steep flight of stairs
was leading into darkness.
There was a door that opened
with glass clinking,
Light would run out, -- and
darkness would wander again…”
Isn’t this precisely how Bulgakov describes the
notorious house in which the no-good apartment #50 was located? It was a
staircase like this that Azazello and Margarita were using to ascend to their
destination. Koroviev was waiting for Margarita on the staircase landing. –
“…The
sound of steps was fading there, and stopped
Upon the staircase, in a
lamp’s yellow light…”
Having approached Koroviev, Azazello vanishes. The
electric lamp in Blok is replaced by an oil lamp in Bulgakov.
“…There
were no sounds there in the twilight…”
And here is Bulgakov:
“This is what I do not
understand, Margarita was saying, and golden sparks from the crystal were
jumping in her eyes. – How can it be that
from the outside no one could hear the music, and all the ruckus of the ball?
Of course they could hear
nothing! – explained
Koroviev. – This needs to be done so that
nothing would be heard. Carefully, that’s how it must be done!”
Back to Alexander Blok:
“…Upon
the stairs, over the twilit yard,
A shadow flittered and the
lamp was barely burning…”
This is the
end of my chapter
Guests at Satan’s Great Ball.
Its last
batch The 20-Year-Old Lad Matures
consisted of
7 postings.
The next
chapter Some Passerby With a Jug
will contain
many new discoveries.
***
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