Bulgakov and Dostoevsky - Bibliothèque et Archives Canada

University of Alberta

Space as Means of Resistance: Bulgakov and Dostoevsky

by

Peter Georges Larson

A thesis submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

Modern Languages and Cultural Studies

Edmonton, Alberta

Spring 2009

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Abstract

This thesis attempts to illustrate how Mikhail Bulgakov uses Fyodor Dostoevsky's example of spatial practice to resist Soviet Materialism. It illuminates how the constructed environment, space, and ideology are inherently integrated. Materialism is resisted partly through creating liminal space. Liminal spaces are often associated with evil, possibly because they are inherendy uncontrollable. Both authors use the Devil as a positive figure who reinforces divine order by expressing the process of liminalization, which allows the individual to take responsibility for moral action.

Chapter one investigates how space is constructed and how Bulgakov appropriates Dostoevsky's spatial practice. Dostoevsky's spatial practice is shown to be essentially medieval, in which space is conceptualized as a unified and objective whole, in which there is inherent order. I use Henri Lefebvre's concepts of space, specifically unified and contradictory space, in order to qualify the nature of Bulgakov's and Dostoevsky's representation of space. Contradictory space is created when the usage of space is contrary to or separated from that space's intended usage.

Chapter two demonstrates the principles described in chapter one, using specific examples of spatial construction. The example of Patriarch's Ponds in Moscow is used to demonstrate reconstructed sacred space over the profane space created by the Soviet government. Bulgakov excavates layers of ideology—corresponding to layers of physical features—that the Soviet government built over the ecclesiastical landscape of Patriarch's Ponds.

Chapter three elaborates upon the mechanics and functioning of space, specifically unified and contradictory space. The abstraction of space is at the root of this phenomenon. Space is made abstract when it becomes a concept that interferes with the lived reality of the users of that space.

Chapter four examines how Bulgakov effects the actual subversion of materialist space following Dostoevsky's example: affliction. Through the application of affliction rites, the individual is able to delineate himself from surrounding communal space.

Acknowledgements

Words cannot adequately express the debts incurred by the writing of this thesis or the feelings for those people who made my work possible. This is the most difficult section of the doctoral thesis to write.

I would like to thank my parents for all of their manifestations of support during many years of graduate school and throughout my entire life.

I would like to thank my co-supervisor, Doctor Peter A. Rolland, for his help on many levels ever since my first semester of graduate school. Working with Doctor Rolland is a great honor and privilege, and I have benefited often from his wisdom.

I would like to thank my co-supervisor Doctor Elena Siemens, who has been guiding this work ever since my second semester of graduate school, in 2.001. Doctor Siemens was with me on all occasions when I was evaluated, during my MA thesis defense and my candidacy examinations. For my doctoral thesis Doctor Siemens provided an invaluable blueprint for the structure and organization. Doctor Siemens also provided theoretical guidance which allowed me to support my argument. Doctor Siemens helped me to become comfortable working with theory in general.

Doctor Siemens' great kindness, compassion, and patience have made it possible for me to succeed. Doctor Siemens has always tirelessly given her help in the midst of her own great responsibilities, which I value highly. Without her I would not have been able to accomplish what I have managed to accomplish.

I would like to thank Doctor Irene Sywenky, who served on my supervisory committee, for her thoughtful comments and encouragement.

I would like to thank the other members of my committee: Doctor Daniel Lafor-est and Doctor Rob Shields, for their very welcome and constructive advice.

I would like to thank the external member of my committee, Doctor Thomas Seifrid, for his extremely valuable insights and encouraging comments.

I would like to thank Jane Wilson, Graduate Secretary of MLCS, for her constant support. Jane Wilson has contributed to the success of many graduate students and MLCS as a department, and deserves appreciation.

Contents

Introduction i Chapter One: Creating Space z i

I .I Synopsis of Bulgakovs Novel. zz i.z The Master's Basement z$

I.Z.I Space as a Subject 4z i.z.z Medieval and Early Modern Spatial Practice 47 i.z.3 Penitential Space $z

1.3 Underground 5 5 1.4 Father Zosima's Cell 61

Chapter Two: The History of Patriarch's Ponds 68 z. 1 Coordinates and Layers 77 z.z Dual-Layered Space 85 z.3 Patriarch's Ponds in the Earlier Manuscripts 95

Chapter Three: Unified and Contradictory Spaces 101 3.1 Medieval Slavic Sacred and Demonic Spaces. 103

3.1.1 The Mother of God's Going among the Torments. 105 3. i.z The Book of Enoch 105

3.Z The Griboedov 110 3.z.i Unified versus Homogenous Space IZI 3.z.z Contradictory Space 1 zz

3.3 The First Interview with Smerdyakov iz6 3.4 The Second Interview with Smerdyakov 1 z8 3.5 The Third and Last Interview with Smerdyakov. 13Z 3.6 ApartmentNs 50 138

Chapter Four: Competing Spaces 14Z 4.1 The Quay 144

4.1.1 Spatial Disassociation 160 4.z Semyon Yakovlevich's Wing 16z 4.3 Ivan Karamazov's Room 168

4.3.1 Alternative Space 194 4.4 The Metropolis zoo

Conclusion Z15 Endnotes Z19 Bibliography. Z45

List of Figures

Figure i: Satellite view of Moscow 79 Figure 2: Map of Moscow, published in 1745 80 Figure 3: Superimposed map 81 Figure 4: Satellite imagery of Patriarch's Ponds, zoo8 83 Figure 5: Eighteenth-century detail of Patriarch's Ponds region 84 Figure 6: Satellite imagery of the route of "The Chase," 2008 88 Figure 7: Route and locations of "The Chase" integrated

with eighteenth-century map 89

Introduction

So-

The purpose of this doctoral thesis is to investigate the phenomenon of space, specifically

as a means of resistance against the ideology of materialism.1 Questions of the relation

between matter and spirit will be shown to affect and be affected by specific spaces. The

spaces that I will examine proceed from mental concepts into physical places.2 There are

two types of mental concepts that may be inscribed into physical places: spaces ascribed

to the spiritual world, such as heaven, hell, purgatory, limbo, and so on, and spaces that

have physical representatives but that have acquired additional significance through be

ing inducted into typology.3 These include liminal spaces, such as bridges, beaches, cross

roads, deserts, and so on.

Liminality

The term liminal originated in anthropology in the early twentieth century. Arnold van

Gennep, an anthropologist who studied rituals that mark various stages of life among in

digenous tribes in the less-developed world, noted that transition from one stage of life

to another was often marked by a rite of passage. Defining certain parts of the rites of

passage as liminal—stemming from the Latin noun limen, or threshold—van Gennep

1- I understand space to mean an intellectual ideological field that inscribes a given location or set of locations with meaning. I understand materialism to mean a professed dogma that denies any reality beyond that which can be qualified and quantified and that denies the existence of the spiritual, which The New Oxford American Dictionary defines as "the nonphysical part of a person that is the seat of the emotions and character." In this thesis the termsspirit and religious will be employed in the Judeo-Christian sense [unless otherwise noted] as proceeding from the Judeo-Christian God and possessing the properties ascribed by Christian doctrine.

2' I differentiate between space and place. I understand^/^re as a set of physical, geographic coordinates. I understand space as an ideological field that inscribes meaning into a set of physical, geographic coordinates.

3' By typology I am referring to the predominantly medieval practice of understanding objects of varied categories according to general models, which is an extension of the platonic concept of ideal forms.

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INTRODUCTION • PETER G. LARSON

noted that, during these rites, the subject is between states or roles in society, that the

subject is set apart from the nominative social order (van Gennep i960). In many soci

eties, individuals who are between states occupy a special category of existence, which is

called liminality. During the period of liminality—of being on the threshold—ordinary

rules of conduct in society may not apply, or other rules may apply. Anthropology and

sociology recognize liminality as a state that is often beyond the control of the official

powers that ordinarily govern a society (van Gennep i960; Turner 1974a).

Liminal spaces have often come to be associated with evil in some instances.

There is no definitive explanation for why this association has occurred.4 One possible

explanation is that, because of their inherent connotations of uncontrollability, liminal

spaces came to be associated with other forces beyond the control of or counter to the es

tablished order—and so came to be associated with whatever demonic forces were be

lieved in within the context of a given culture.

I intend to demonstrate how certain spaces are marked as liminal in a novel writ

ten in Moscow during the 1910s and 1930s, Mikhail Bulgakov's novel The Master and

Margarita, and how the process of marking them as such creates spaces of resistance to

the hegemonic materialist ideology of the Soviet Union. Bulgakov's novel takes place in

Moscow of the 1920s and 1930s, making the action concurrent with the period in which

the novel was written. In the plot of the novel, the Devil, calling himself Woland as an

oblique reference to Goethe's Faust, comes to Moscow, along with a retinue of servants,

to hold a ball. He meets various residents of the city and interacts with them. Woland,

and various other characters, recount the crucifixion of Christ, an account which differs

substantially from the Gospels. At the end of the novel, Woland and his servants return

to hell, and the lives of the various people with whom Woland and his servants interact-

By liminal spaces I understand spaces that can be associated with a state of liminality or which display the traits of liminality transposed from the human condition.

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ed are changed to one degree or another—or ended [see section I.I Synopsis of

Bulgakov's Novel on page 2,2. for a more detailed synopsis of Bulgakov's novel].

Fyodor Dostoevsky establishes a precedent for this process in his works, most no

tably his major novels. I will specifically examine The Brothers Karamazov, The Devils,

and Notes from Underground. My purpose will be to understand how this space is con

structed and how it functions. As described on page 12, of the introduction, Bulgakov re

produces elements from The Brothers Karamazov—such as physical features and indi

vidual characteristics on a more superficial level, and ideological discourse on a deep

level.

Understanding how and why Bulgakov chooses to reproduce these elements can

provide an explanation of the mechanics of Bulgakov's resistance to Soviet hegemony,

through drawing upon the practitioner of a spatial discourse with which Bulgakov de

sired to identify himself. The strategy of identification with a predecessor in the produc

tion of texts is expressed in the liminalization of space in order to maintain freedom and

autonomy, in a manner similar to Dostoevsky. Both authors use the Devil as the expres

sion of liminalization. Furthermore, the Devil in the works of both authors is a positive

figure who reinforces the divine order. It is that divine order that allows the individual to

take responsibility for moral action.

My position is that liminal spaces of resistance to materialism are effective be

cause they evoke a unified and absolute paradigm of cosmological order—of existence.

Demonic elements are necessary to the functioning of this process.

Two Spatial Paradigms

As stated in the above paragraph, the paradigm evoked by liminal spaces is unified and

absolute. The paradigm is unified because there is no element that cannot be accounted

for in its organizational structure. The paradigm is absolute because it is mutually exclu

sive in relation to any other possible paradigm. There can be no competition or co-exis

tence in spatial paradigms. In my thesis I will show that two spatial paradigms do over-

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lap. However, in areas of overlap the paradigms are in competition with one another, and

the acceptance of one paradigm means the rejection of the other. Although an individual

may follow one paradigm but observe the other, such a dichotomy will eventually lead to

some sort of rupture.

To provide a specific example of the situation outlined in the above paragraph, I

will briefly outline the subject of chapter two of this thesis. In brief, the Patriarchs Ponds

region of Moscow is where, at the beginning of The Master and Margarita, two atheist

writers meet the devil. Obviously, these scene represents the collision between two para

digms: that of the Christian worldview and the materialist [the ideology of the Soviet

Union] worldview. According to the Christian worldview, materialism is heresy. Accord

ing to the materialist worldview, religion is a deception.

One of the defining characteristics of Christianity is theodicy—the justification

of God. Specifically, it is the search for the answer to the question of why evil exists in

the world. Dostoevsky draws upon a tradition of theodicy that maintains evil to be a

necessary component of divine order, and can be regarded as a test of faith. All possible

events and occurrences can be defined as contributing to the functioning of this type of

space without contradiction to what has been termeddivine plan. On this level, spaces is

more than a human construct. The entire cosmos is divinely constructed space, in which

human beings construct their own spatial paradigms on the microcosmic level, in imita

tion of the original Architect. Even what seems to be a contradiction is not a contradic

tion, it is just not understood by the human mind.

Materialist space is the antithesis of religious space, in one sense. However, in

another sense it is a skewed reflection. God is replaced by the proletariate or dialectic in

Soviet ideology. Significantly for this thesis, individuality is dispensed with. The indi

vidual does not count in the Soviet paradigm, only the entire collective of individuals.5

5' Svetlana Boym's work Common Places examines the communal apartment in particular and Soviet life in general, illustrating how lived practice often differed from official ideology. What


Religious space, however, is more nuanced. The collective—in the form of the

Church [or one of many Churches] is the representative of God on earth. However, the

individual is of utmost importance in religious space, because God is concerned with

each and every individual. Thus, while Soviet material space must take into account indi

viduals as the basic building blocks of the proletariate, each and every individual is of no

importance. It may be cast under the wheels of the machine of society without hesitation

or guilt. Although materialist space in the Soviet Union can be seen as a reflection of re

ligious space, it is an incomplete reflection, with key differences.

Medieval space, which is inherently enmeshed with religious space, is more uni

fied, though not more homogenous. There are allowances for disparate zones, but all

zones are part of a great whole, the center of which is God. Because of the lack of contra

dictions and the lack of the paradoxical drive towards homogenization, medieval space,

though heavily layered with metaphor, is transparent:

Medieval space had something miraculous about it. There is no need to cross-section it theoretically—longitudinally, transversely or vertically— to identify orders and estates, ranks and hierarchies. The social edifice itself resembled a cathedral, and indeed is arguably a better candidate for homology with the Summa theologica. [...] ...one and the same illusion sustained the belief that the tops of the city's towers grazed the vault of Heaven and embodied the celestial virtues; the belief that those at the tip of the social pyramid rubbed shoulders with divinity; the belief that reason at the zenith of its speculative constructions held out a hand to the faith directly dispensed by divine grace; and the belief, finally, that poetry may go down into the Inferno and then reascend to Paradise. (Lefebvre 1991, 266-67)

Poetry was able to "go down into the Inferno and then reascend to Paradise" because

space was unified in the medieval conception. Space lost its medieval unity when reason

was divorced from and then made antithetical to faith. Abstract space, in Lefebvre s for-

Boym describes is the basis of what Lefebvre identifies as contradictory space (Boym 1994).

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mulation, turns out to be ruptured space, though religious space is unified while simulta

neously being varied:

Divisions and multiplicities are rife in other areas, such as landscape and literature. For example, late medieval Europe has long been seen as a landscape filled and defined by points of access to the holy: it was a land "haunted by the church" (Lefebvre 1991,154). These included parish churches, chapels and cathedrals; abbeys, priories and nunneries; shrines, wells, springs and crosses; not to mention the caves and chambers of hermits and anchorites, the routes of pilgrimage, the sites of the dead and martyrdom. Indeed, there were so many forms of sacred space in pre-Ref-ormation Europe that it is impossible to compile a comprehensive list. It is not unreasonable to characterize late medieval Catholicism as a religion dependent on a highly complex landscape of the sacred. (Coster and Spicenoos, 4)

This assessment of the space of Western Europe could be applied to other spaces as well,

including nineteenth- and twentieth-century Russian cultural space.6 Not only the

depiction of physical space in literature, but literary spaces as well, which include hu

manity's place in the cosmology, the nature of morality, borders of the acceptable and

transgression of those borders. The concept of God was central to such cartographers of

Russian literary space as Gogol and Dostoevsky. Writing becomes an agent of assigning

meaning to space in addition to the overt spatial delimiters:

The great works of Baroque art might have been confined to the private chapels of the wealthy and a few great cathedrals, but even modest medieval parish churches contained a multiplicity of artistic representations, most obviously the doom paintings that enlarged the interior of the church to include a celestial landscape. Similarly, literary expansion can be seen in devotional works that underlined the significance of topography, and also in items such as liturgical writings, that brought divinity within sacred space. In the age of cyberspace we should need no reminding that

I have not chosen to employ Russian theorists of space, as the objectives of this thesis can better be met through the focus of Lefebvre, van Gennep, and Turner. The examination of Russian cultural space in general is a subject for another work. For Russian cultural studies of space refer to: Toporov 1983; Toporov 1973; Lotman and Uspenskii 1984; Lotman 1992b; Lotman 1992a.

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space can exist beyond the physical world. (Coster and Spicer 2005,14-

15)

This statement is significant for two reasons. Firstly, it describes the connection between

sacred medieval landscape and the cosmological order and unity. Through spatial repre

sentations [the "multiplicity of artistic representations"] that defined a space ["medieval

parish churches"], a connection and placement in an overarching order was achieved.

Secondly, it points out that writing has the power even to bring "divinity within sacred

space."

The Soviet revolution sought to reshape or to destroy both physical and notional

spaces. In some ways this process mirrors that of the Reformation:

Reformers attacked the distinctiveness and efficacy of many sacred rites, assailed holy objects, broke down the barriers between the consecrated individual and the multitude, but they also launched an offensive on the sanctity of space...

Thus the reformation has traditionally been perceived as a process by which the sanctity of space, along with the other elements of the 'magic of religion' was destroyed: that it promoted, in Max Weber's famous phrase a 'disenchantment of the world.' In recent years Weber's thesis has been seriously undermined and there has been a growing awareness that Protestantism in its many forms could not entirely dispense with all elements of Catholic practice. Just as some of the sacraments were retained, so fonts, altars or communion tables, even churches themselves, could not be completely divorced from intimations of sanctity. (Coster and Spicer 2-005, 4 - 5 )

Duality of space, then, is not a new phenomenon. It is a phenomenon that reached new

meaning and intensity in the Soviet Union. In this thesis I will incorporate Lefebvre's so

ciological observations of space, with anthropological concepts developed primarily by

Arnold van Gennep and Victor Turner, who develop theories of liminality in relation to

the individual. I will demonstrate how Bulgakov and Dostoevsky create space for the in

dividual within space dominated by the group. This adjustment to the structure of space

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can be traced to medieval and early Renaissance practice, which Lefebvre's work provides

a basis for in the preceding quotations.7

Liminality and the Individual

In materialist space of the Soviet Union, some individuals wish to reassert their individu

ality and their ability to exercise free will in the moral and existential categories. That is

why liminalization of space becomes the preferred means of resistance to Soviet hegemo

ny. A liminal state is by nature highly individual. It epitomizes the isolation of the indi

vidual from surrounding society. In the societies studied by Arnold van Gennep and Vic

tor Turner, the individual would undergo a ritual transition from one state to another

(Aase 1994; Turner 1974a; Turner and Turner 1978; van Gennep i960). During the ritual

transition, the individual does not belong either to the group he is leaving nor to the

group he is to enter. He is in between—in liminal space. In such societies, the individual

must undergo some sort of test or ordeal before the desired reincorporation into society

and the assumption of the corresponding social roles.(Turner 1974a) The subject under

goes a brief period of heightened individuality in order to separate him from the social

groups to which he no longer belongs before the reincorporation rites. In the context of

resistance to Soviet hegemony the purposes and the means of an analogous exercise are

different. In this context, the subject wishes to create or reclaim individuality which is

denied by society. The goals of such a population differ from those of traditional liminal

subjects in several ways. The individual seeks a permanent or semi-permanent liminal sta

tus, instead of entering the liminal state only for a specified period of time in order to

complete a task or ordeal. Whereas in traditional liminal rituals the heightened liminali-

7' I have not chosen to employ the works of Bakhtin, liminality and carnival for three reasons. Firstly, Bakhtinian carnival has already been the subject of studies of Bulgakov (seeMilne 1977). Secondly, I do not believe that the joyous exuberance of the carnival is an appropriate focus for this thesis, which examines other aspects of Bulgakov's work. Thirdly, I believe it to be necessary to examine the anthropological origins of liminality, though not as a strictly anthropological function.

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ty is a potentially unpleasant side-effect of the ritual state, in the man seeking freedom

from a society or situation he deems oppressive it is a highly desired state that is both

means and end.

One of the means of signaling a liminal state is an affliction ritual, which is a ritu

al in which an individual undergoes some sort of affliction in order to purify the self, to

prepare the self for the reception of some secret knowledge, to prove worthiness (Turner

1968; Turner 1974a). I will demonstrate how some of Bulgakov's characters transition

into liminal space through the device of the affliction ritual.

Sacred and Secular

The division between sacred and secular is the most conducive means to achieve the

goals stated above. Arnold van Gennep's theories of liminal "rites of passage" are devel

oped on the basis of Emile Durkheim's observation that the founding principle of reli

gious beliefs and systems is the division between sacred and secular. Subsequently van

Gennep developed his theories by focussing on the transitions or passages between those

states that Durkheim first describes. Durkheim's emphasis on the maintenance of society

when God is subtracted is reversed—preemptively—by Dostoevsky. Although Dosto-

evsky precedes Durkheim, Dostoevsky observes tendencies in Russian society, the West

ern European equivalents of which Durkheim examines. These tendencies are specifically

the final removal of God as an organizing principle of society, a process that seems to

originate in the Enlightenment. In the formulation of Mircea Eliade, this process can be

described as the profanization of the cosmos (Eliade 1959; Eliade 2005). The last half of

the nineteenth century in Russia was a time of revolutionary activity directed against the

czarist regime. It was a time of the propagation of radical experiments of manipulating

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lived space.8 directed at entirely re-shaping the existing order. The traditional role of

Christian doctrine was either dramatically deformed, or vehemently rejected.

In order to re-establish individual autonomy, I argue that Bulgakov deliberately

attempts to reintroduce the sacred into Soviet life. Ironically, the best agent for this

process is the Devil. In this thesis I illustrate how the Devil often acts as the mediator be

tween sacred and secular. Liminal spaces are inherently spaces of choice. The increased

possibility of choice is one of the factors that makes them so dangerous. However, that

danger is also the ideal environment for the re-assertion of freedom and submission to

the sacred universe. Ironically again, an effective way to attain freedom and moral auton

omy in the Soviet Union is to submit one's will to the ideological system of the divine or

der. Freedom comes through service in such a paradigm. The divine order, as described

above, is built on freedom of choice and the possibility of redemption through repen

tance. In the ideological system of this divine order, the ultimate good of the individual

is to be in harmony with God. However, according to the doctrinal tenants Roman

Catholicism and Russian Orthodoxy, the individual has the opportunity to be redeemed

after the death of the body, thus precluding any final pronouncement on damnation

available to human representatives of God.

The practical application of this system in the realm of freedom through submis

sion is that, logically, the individual's relationship to God is inherently and intensely per

sonal on one level. In some aspects of religious practice, such as prayer, intermediaries

can be dispensed with, and in terms of belief, only the individual can determine what he

or she believes. The aspect of a personal relationship with God is an integral part of the

Christian tradition, one that was always accounted for in Christianity. It is also in stark

contrast to the secular power over the totality of the individual upon which Soviet

The experiments involved developing new paradigms of lived space, such as communes of various types. One of the most famous of these is the phalanstery, a system developed by Fourier, in which everything, including sexual partners, was shared with all other members of the commune and in which there was no personal space.

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hegemony is built. That hegemony can only be supported by a foundation of material

ism. The soul cannot be judged by any but God, (Pelikan 1978; Aquinas 1007) so the So

viet state holds the power of ultimate judgement if there is no soul or God to supersede

its secular authority. The re-introduction of sacred space into Soviet society is in essence

an attempt to correct an aberration of an excess of temporal authority.

Dostoevsky's Precedence

Fyodor Dostoevsky's work is, in some ways, a continuation of a medieval tradition. Dos-

toevsky incorporates the medieval genre of hagiography and uses medieval literary de

vices such as Biblical thematic clues in his major works. Furthermore, Greek and Slavic

hagiographic and apocryphal texts play an important part in The Brothers Karamazov.

However, Dostoevsky's appropriation of medieval elements goes beyond this.

I argue that Dostoevsky projects the world into a medieval spatial paradigm, the

mechanics of which will be discussed throughout this thesis. Dostoevsky's works, like

any literary works, constructs space. Specifically, it projects an ideological system onto

one or more areas of human activity, inscribing actual or potential activities and attitudes

with ideological significance.

One of Dostoevsky's salient projects is theodicy—the justification of God or, in

other words, the attempt to explain why there is evil in the world. This is a question that

has preoccupied humanity throughout its entire existence. Pre-Christian religious sys

tems developed various explanations, such as enemies of the gods, S^c. Judaism, and later

Christianity, encountered this problem in a unique fashion, as in these monotheistic sys

tems God is omnipotent. Thus, God must cause, or at the very least allow with his explic

itly approval, the existence of evil. However, in Judaism and Christianity, God is benevo

lent—though sometimes more wrathful and sometimes less wrathful. Wrath is an

insufficient explanation for the existence of evil. Observably, affliction occurs to people

who have not performed the necessary actions to provoke God's wrath. Again, a logical

paradox followed. There are two mechanisms that deal with this paradox. The first is

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original sin, which will not be dealt with in this thesis, as it is beyond the area of investi

gation, and cannot be relevantly investigated in this context.

The second mechanism arose with The Book of Job. Although elements of this

mechanism may have been in existence throughout the chronologically preceding books

of the Bible, The Book of Job unifies and articulates this mechanism in an unprecedent-

edly coherent fashion. The mechanism in question can be understood both theologically

and anthropologically. It is the affliction ritual. In the context of the Christian paradigm,

affliction serves two purposes. One purpose is entirely God's, and is entirely unknowable

to human beings. In this context it must simply be borne with faith and humility. The

second purpose is shared between God and man. It is an affliction ritual proper, in which

the individual is somehow bettered through the bearing of affliction (Turner 1974a;

Turner and Turner 1978; van Gennep i960). Certainly not all afflictions fall into this cat

egory. Many afflictions result in the destruction of individuals who could not benefit

from the experience or offer no possibility of comprehending the experience. Such events

must be ascribed to the first category of affliction. Somehow human beings must have

faith that this evil will have some benefit that cannot be comprehended by limited

human minds, whose knowledge and experience cannot accomodate the entirety of

creation.

Dostoevsky examines affliction of both the first and second categories. Affliction

of the first category, in which no human being can possible benefit, is examined by Dos

toevsky more briefly, although Dostoevsky does not ignore it. Affliction of the second

category, in which the individual can gain spiritual riches, is the subject of Dostoevsky's

constant focus in his later novels.

Bulgakov's Deleted Dostoevskian Nightmare

One of the central arguments of my thesis is that Dostoevsky s work forms a basis for

Bulgakov's spatial practices, partially through the use of liminality. Several researchers,

including myself [see note 47 on page 157] have observed definite similarities between

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aspects of Dostoevsky's texts and The Master and Margarita. Most prevalent is the simi

larity of physical characteristics between members of Woland's retinue and the Devil in

The Brothers Karamazov (Pittman 1991; Zerkalov 2004).

The following long block quotation is a reproduction of a scene that was deleted

from Bulgakov's play The Days of the Turbins. It is quoted from Pittman 1991, 48-50. It

demonstrates that Bulgakov's reliance upon Dostoevsky for ideological orientation and

spatial practice through the use of liminality as a space of freedom is salient across Bul

gakov's ceuvre. The quotation illustrates Bulgakov's adoption of liminal space and of the

devil [in the form of "Nightmare"] as elements of self-knowledge and personal freedom.

In Dostoevsky's context, it is freedom from a materialist self-regulation based upon con

sensus among the intellectual elite of the time. In Bulgakov's context it is freedom from a

flawed reaction to the Bolshevik threat.

Pittman cites her source as follows: "In her introduction toNeizdannyy Bulgakov,

on p. 8, Proffer writes: 'The unpublished extract from The White Guard is a copy of the

typewritten original, which is held in the Manuscript Department of the Lenin Library...

It shows that the early versions of the play were closer to the novel than the finished text

of Days of the Turbins. For the three redactions of this play, see M. A. Bulgakov, P'esy 20-

khgodov, compiled, general editor and with an introduction by A. A. Ninov, (Leningrad,

1989) pp. 35-160 and 514-36" (Pittman 1991,179-80).

ACT ONE scene one

At the Turbins'house. Night. Close to dawn, ALEKSEY is sleeping on the ottoman.

ALEKSEY [speaks in his sleep]. Who is there? Who. Who. Who. [Apause]. My God, who is it in here ? [He wakens, rises, takes a revolverfrom the chair, aims at the door-curtain]. The devil, it's a dressing-gown. [Falls asleep, mutters]. The devilish vodka. [The scene is filled with mist. The dressing-gown on the wall suddenly opens wide, a NIGHTMARE steps out of it. Its face is wrinkled, it is bald, wearing clothes of the 1870s, checked pants, boots with yellow flaps].

-13-


NIGHTMARE. You don't sit on a hedgehog when you are naked. Holy Rus is a wooden land, destitute and dangerous, and for a Russian, honor is only an unnecessary burden, [sings]. Greetings to holiday-makers, greetings to holiday-makers, the snap-shots have started again in our midst... [the air is filled with the sounds of a guitar].

I would hang this hetman of yours, honestly. [Jumps on ALEKSEY'S

chest and tries to strangle him]. ALEKSEY [in sleep]. Let go. NIGHTMARE. I have come to you, Aleksey Vasil'evich, with greetings from

Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky. I would ha, ha... hang him... Breit-man's wisecracks are playful, but where are the Senegalese troops? I'll tell you a secret, my respected Aleksey Vasil'evich, there will be no Senegaleses, but in fact Singaleses. However, more truly speaking not Singaleses, but Gansileses. And such 'allies' are scum.

ALEKSEY. Go away, this is such nonsense. Such a word does not exist. And you don't exist. I am seeing you in my dream. And now I am going to wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

NIGHTMARE. You are mistaken, doctor. I am not a dream, but most genuinely real. And who can tell anyway, what a dream might be? Who. Who?

ALEKSEY [in his sleep]. Who? Who? Who? NIGHTMARE. This is precisely me. And in order to prove to you that I'm

not a dream I shall tell me, my dear doctor, that I know supremely well what will become of you.

ALEKSEY. What ? What ? What ? NIGHTMARE. Very evil things. [Shouts in a hollow manner]. Doctor, do

not reflect on it, take off your epaulettes. ALEKSEY. Go away, I feel distressed... You are a nightmare. The most terri

ble thing about you is your boots with flaps. Brr... A foul deed. Such flaps could never exist in reality.

NIGHTMARE. And how is that? Can they exist very well if, for instance, there is no leather in Zhitomir?

ALEKSEY. YOU are just torturing my brain. I don't understand anything— in what [Z]hitomir? Go away. You are a myth. You are the kind of ugly mug of which Nikolka drew a picture on the stove. Get lost.

NIGHTMARE. IS that so ? So it follows that the ugly mug does not exist in reality? But you watch this, doctor. [The drawing on the stove turns into Colonel Bolbotun's real life head].

ALEKSEY. You are Petlyura's man. Captain Myshlayevsky, come here! [Bol-botun fades away]. Nonsense. Myth. You are teasing me. Frightening

-14-


me. I know full well that I'm asleep and that my nerves are shattered. Get away or I shall shoot at you. This is all a myth, a myth.

NIGHTMARE. Ah, so it is a myth? Well, I shall show you now what kind of myth exactly. [Whistles piercingly. The walls of the Turbin'sflat disappear. Some kind of barrel, a chest and a table appear from under the floor. And an empty place with broken windows emergesfrom the dark, with a sign 'Headquarters of the first cavalry division! A kerosene torch burns at the entrance. On the table stands a torch with a candle burning in it. On one side there is afield telephone, in front of it on a bench sits GAYDAMAK—a telephonist. The NIGHTMARE disappears, ALEKSEY

vanishes].

-15-


Materialism

The context of Dostoevsky's spatial project—the Russian Empire of the second half of

the nineteenth century—was a period of violent upheaval, in which God was being re

placed by "science." (Frank 1979; Frank 1986). In this context what was understood ^sci

ence or progress was, in fact materialism—an important distinction. Whereas science, or

rather the scientific method, is based on the recording of observable phenomena and the

formulation of hypotheses to form a system by means of which to describe the phenome

na, materialism is difFerent and is, in fact, unscientific. Materialism is an ideology, not a

scientific system. As an ideology, it is itself based on faith, not on rationality. Thus, the

very existence of the materialist ideology stems from a basic contradiction. Sources on

Materialism state that nothing exists which cannot be observed, qualified and quantified.

It categorically denies the possibility of the existence of God and the spirit. Judging by

the scientific method of rationality, the existence of God and the spirit has not been ob

served in a matter that can be qualified or quantified under reproducible circumstances.

However, that does not preclude the existence of God or the spirit. The assertions of ma

terialism thus cannot be said to be rooted in science, but only adopt the outward appear

ance of being scientific.

This is Dostoevsky's position (Frank 1979; Frank 1983; Frank 1986; Frank 1995;

Frank 2002). In his journalistic discourse and his major works, Dostoevsky seeks to com

bat the popular intellectual current of materialism that had been gaining credence with

the intellectual class. In the maelstrom of competing ideological systems of nineteenth-

century Russia, materialism would eventually win out, forming one of the ideological

bases of communism. Dostoevsky's experience in subverting this ideology at the begin

ning of its ascendence provided guidance for Bulgakov's resistance to it during its

apogee.

-16-


Chapter One

Chapter One of this thesis will examine how space is constructed in Bulgakov's and Dos

toevski's works. I will begin with a description of the master's basement apartment,

where he moves after winning a lottery and where he writes his novel about Pontius Pi

late. I will illustrate how the master is a constructor of space—both physical and literary.

The master describes at length the physical characteristics of his apartment. I will show

how those physical characteristics—such as a sink—translate into the construction of

ideological, literary space—Pontius Pilate's compulsive hand-washing. Furthermore, that

ideological, literary space directly affects the actual space of the city in which the master

lives. By providing a novel within a novel, Bulgakov is able to actively comment on the

nexus between ideological space and physical space, while working within the confines

of his own novel, The Master and Margarita.

I will demonstrate how Bulgakov appropriates Dostoevsky's spatial practice. I will

demonstrate how Dostoevsky's spatial practice can be seen to conform to aspects of me

dieval spatial practice. By medieval spatial practice I understand the living of space as a

unified whole, in which there is an inherent order, in which all possible occurrences can

be accommodated into an overarching ideological paradigm, and a practice that is root

ed in spiritual values, where the material is a component but not an oppressive system.

The only way—at the most basic level—to construct ideological orientation

within a given space is to equate the ideological field with physical features or attributes

of that space. Even Christian sacred space must rely on matter in order to convey a mes

sage to the users of that space. In chapter one I will examine some of those physical prop

erties and in what way they can be used to evoke ideological associations.

Proceeding from the above-described analysis of the connection between physi

cal properties of place and the ideology that constructs a space, I will discuss the moral

ramifications of space and spatial practice. I will illustrate how spatial characteristics are

used to provide exegesis of a character's actions. Sin and redemption, states inherent to

Christian space, can be further understood through studying their spatial components. I -17-


will illustrate how affliction rituals and penitential space provide tools that allow the in

dividual to remain free.

Chapter Two

Chapter two of this thesis will demonstrate the principles described in chapter one, using

concrete and specific examples of spatial construction. I will do so using the example of

the Patriarch's Ponds region in Moscow. The Patriarch's Ponds region is significant in The

Master and Margarita as the space in which the devil appears to two writers who dissem

inate atheist doctrine—a poet and the editor of an anti-religious journal. Patriarch's

Ponds represent the intersection between sacred and profane.

Additionally, Woland's actions at Patriarch's Ponds construct, or actually re-con

struct, sacred space over the profane space constructed by the Soviet government. Bul

gakov excavates the layers of ideology—corresponding to layers of physical features—

that the Soviet government built over the sacred landscape of the Patriarch's Ponds re

gion. Excavation is accomplished by Bulgakov using his characters to point to specific

spaces that have been sacralized, in the form of several churches that were destroyed by

the Soviet government under Stalin's reconstruction plans for the city of Moscow.

In order to make amends for the sin of allowing personal freedom and moral au

tonomy to be usurped by the state, some of the characters o£7he Master and Margarita

undergo affliction rituals. Such rituals, according to Victor Turner, serve a variety of

functions. One of those functions is penance. Pilgrimage is one form of affliction ritual,

in which the subject undergoes physical hardship in the pursuit of spiritual enlighten

ment. This model can be applied to the pursuit of the devil by the materialist poet, from

Patriarch's Ponds to a symbolic baptism in the Moscow River at the site of the demol

ished Christ the Savior Cathedral.

-18-


Chapter Three

Having described the construction of space in chapter one, and provided a practical

example in chapter two, I will elaborate upon the mechanics of the functioning of space

in chapter three: unified and contradictory space.

Social philosopher Henri Lefebvre characterizes space as a socially produced phe

nomenon. My focus is on the struggle of the individual against the collective.

For this study, I will apply Lefebvre's understanding of contradictory space. Ac

cording to Lefebvre, contradictory space is created when the usage of a space is contrary

to or separated from, that space's intended usage. The abstraction of space is at the root

of this phenomenon. This occurs when space becomes an abstract concept that interferes

with the lived reality of the users of the space.

I argue that materialist space in the service of the Soviet Union is an extreme

example of abstract space. I juxtapose that abstract space against a unified pattern of spa

tial conception pioneered by Dostoevsky and adopted by Bulgakov. This spatial pattern

is based upon medieval models, the examples of two of which I provide for comparison.

Chapter Four

In chapter four I intend to illustrate how Dostoevsky uses the liminal spaces he has set

up in order to subvert the surrounding materialist space, and how Bulgakov adopts this

method for disrupting the space of Soviet Moscow.

Using the principles described in chapter three, I will illustrate how Bulgakov

effects the actual subversion of materialist space, following Dostoevsky's example: afflic

tion. Through the application of affliction rites, which van Gennep classifies as liminal

rites of passage, the individual is able delineate himself from surrounding communal

space. Engaging in these liminalization rituals, Dostoevsky's and Bulgakov's protagonists

re-shape the image of the city, investing it with space for personal moral choices and per

sonal freedom, not dictated by the collective.

-19-


I will begin by examining how, in The Master and Margarita, Ivan Bezdomny un

dergoes a metaphorical affliction ritual in "The Chase." This metaphorical affliction ritu

al serves to disassociate the individual from surrounding, materialist space. I will demon

strate how Ivan Bezdomny, through the liminal space created by this affliction ritual,

enters a new, anti-materialist spatial paradigm, which is administered by the devil. Be

cause the lived space that Ivan Bezdomny can no longer provide a suitable environment

for his life, Ivan Bezdomny is forced to reject—albeit briefly—his habitual lived space.

I will proceed to demonstrate how Bulgakov acquires this strategy of delineation

from enveloping materialist space from Dostoevsky, providing the example of a negative

pilgrimage—the opposite of an affliction ritual, found in The Devils.

Finally, I will examine afflictive spaces of enlightenment in Dostoevsky s The

Brothers Karamazov. Ironically, the spaces of enlightenment are administered by the dev

il, who is the agent of the affliction ritual that leads to disassociation from materialist

space and incorporation into the religious paradigm. The demonic space of conversation

between Ivan Karamazov and the devil, which takes place in the bedroom of Ivan Kara-

mazov's apartment—his most intimate lived space—is foreshadowed by a conversation

between Ivan Karamazov and his brother Alyosha in the Metropolis tavern. The very

name Metropolis conveys a complex web of associations. Firstly there is the city as place

of sin, alluding to the inherent corrupting tendencies of civilization. Secondly, there is

the city as a space of dialogue about the meaning of the shared space the protagonists in

habit, which leads to the basic question of whose space is it, and according to which

principles should this space be organized? This sets the agenda for Ivan Karamazov's later

conversation with the devil, only with the devil replacing the saintly Alyosha.

This thesis will examine such questions and attempt to provide answers that will

illuminate how the constructed environment, space, ideology and lived meaning are in

herently integrated.

-20-

Chapter One: Creating Space

$&>

As stated in the introduction, this doctoral thesis will examine the spatial aspect of

Mikhail Bulgakov's novel The Master and Margarita. Chapter one will investigate how

Bulgakov creates and orders space, following similar methods that Dostoevsky employs.

This investigation will provide the basis for the subsequent chapters.

Space is not merely a random assortment of places, an expression of chaos, but is

rather a ritualized system—a paradigm—and all things within space can be considered

paradigmatically (Turner 1974a; van Gennep i960).

There exist and are manifest specific types of spatial practice: specific rules of fol

lowing a paradigm, as defined above. Within space there are fluid dynamics, such as pro

jection of and resistance to power (Foucault 1986; Foucault 1995). Zones of space can

obey unique laws, contrary to the space surrounding them, such as churches and univer

sities in the middle ages, which contained their own special sets of rules, different from

the surrounding territories (Turner and Turner 1978). Space, or control of space, can be

actively competed for, in terms of who owns a certain space and who controls certain ac

tivities (Foucault 1986; Foucault 1995). Without specific types of spatial practice that

contain their own doctrines, there would be no way to alter and subvert space.

What might seem to be an entirely new way of organizing space could, in fact, be

a reiteration of a pervious practice. This is especially applicable to Utopia. Specifically, the

appropriation of space under the Bolshevik government in the 1920s serves as the prima

ry example in this work. In attempting to find new forms in which to express their ideol

ogy, Soviet artists fell back on old forms with some modification.

It can be difficult to concretely delineate space. Definitions oigood and evil are

necessary for orientation within a space. Academic writing, and the materialist world-

view, have eschewed using terms such as^zWand evil in favor of more neutral terms.

However, understanding space as an ideological field necessitates understanding both

the concepts and the ramifications of those concepts employed by the individual and/or

-21-

CHAPTER ONE: CREATING SPACE • PETER G. LARSON

group that provides the ideological orientation for the space in question. For a producer

of ideology, life is very much engaged unmitigatedly with categories of good and evil. Al

though in this chapter I will examine space using differing conceptual tools, all of those

tools must be applied in away that is relevant to the object of the study.

Katerina Clark's work on the Soviet novel demonstrates how Socialist Realist lit

erature is, in fact, an extension of medieval Slavic literary forms. I combine this view of

Soviet dogmatic practice with the forms that contain it, and argue that Bulgakov sub

verts this practice by turning Soviet form against Soviet content by accessing that forms

progenitor: medieval form and content.

Henry Ansgar-Kelly and Elaine Pagels' detailed documentation of how Satan is

the executor of God's will and a central component of the divine plan within a thread of

Christian doctrine and tradition that exists parallel to, but overshadowed by, popular

conceptions of the devil as an agent of disorder rather than order. In this statement I

mean both God's will and divine plan as two features of one unified ideological field, the

one in which Satan's role is contested. This context is appropriate, firstly as an example of

an ideological field, which is the focus of this thesis, secondly due to the fact that pre-So

viet and Soviet space define themselves in relation to Christianity, its system and its

space, and that Bulgakov personally proceeds from the Christian tradition.

I . I Synopsis of Bulgakov's Novel

Mikhail Bulgakov began writing The Master and Margarita in 1928, and worked on the

novel until his death in 1938, never completing it. The first version of the novel was most

ly destroyed when Bulgakov, fearing that his apartment would be searched a second time

by the N K V D — t h e predecessor of the KGB—put the manuscript into a lit stove.9 Bul-

One of the popular catch-phrases from the novel, "Manuscripts do not burn" [pyKonHCH He rop.«T] is based on this event. In the novel, these words are spoken to the Master when the devil returns the manuscript to him that he thought had been burned in a stove, similar to the actual events of Bulgakov's life.

-22-


gakov resumed work on the novel at a slightly later time, and even considered trying to

publish the work, though such an intention was short-lived. In the later years of his life,

Bulgakov labored over the novel without the expectation that it would be published in

his lifetime. After Bulgakov's death the novel was published in a censored version, and

then in an uncensored version. Critics have had difficulty in deciphering exactly what the

novel means:

The predominant initial response to the novel does indeed seem to be the

awareness of an enigma, a feeling that the novel does not quite cohere in

tellectually, and yet works aesthetically in a most complete and satisfying

way. (Milne 1977,1)

The plot of the story is divided into three interconnected parts. The first is that of the

devil, who takes the name Woland, coming to Moscow to hold his annual ball, in which

the inhabitants of hell are free of their punishment for one night. The second part is that

of Margarita and her inamorato, the master, who has been sent to a psychiatric clinic be

cause he wrote a novel about Pontius Pilate. The third part is that of Ieshua Ha-Nozri, a

representation of Christ. The Gospels are not followed in Bulgakov's depiction of Christ,

and are referred to in The Master and Margarita as a gross fabrication by Ieshua's one

apostle, Matthew the Levite. Christ is depicted in resurrected form after the fact, but the

actual resurrection is not depicted.10 At the end of the novel, the three distinct plot-lines

are brought together and resolved.

The novel seems to have its origin in the medieval apocryphal text The Mother of

God's Going Among the Torments [Xoxcdeuue Eozopodutju no MyKOMz>], which, like Dante

Alighieri's Inferno, describes a trip through hell. Given the continuation in subject mat-

There is an ongoing debate among the general public as well as the clergy about the proper

attitude of Christian doctrine towards The Master and Margarita. Some people condem the

novel from a Christian point of view, arguing that it is blasphemous. Others (Kuraev 2006)

argue to the contrary. Without attempting a final judgement on this point, I would suggest that

it be kept in mind the instability of the term blasphemous. For example, in Puritan England, any

theatrical production at all would be considered blasphemous, whereas in the Medieval and

Baroque periods passion plays and morality plays often portrayed Christ, God and other sacred

figures, and were considered essential to the propagation of doctrine.

- 23 -


ter, it is worthwhile to consider the possibility a continuation of spatial practice as well.

By spatialpractice I understand the creation of sacred space as distinct from, but at times

overlapping with, secular space; a worldview in which God is at the center and all space

and morality [which can also be understood as ideology] proceeds outward from the

center.

The apocrypha upon which The Master and Margarita appears to be based also

has a connection with Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov: "The well-known

Going of the Mother of God Among the Torments, which Ivan Karamazov mentions in

Dostoevsky's novel, has been preserved in a large number of Russian codices, the oldest

of which dates from the twelfth century. The Greek text arose...in the fourth or fifth

centuries..."(1) (Likhachev 1999).

In this apocryphal text, the Theotokos requests that she be shown hell and the

fate of the people imprisoned therein. The archangel Michael leads her on a tour. She

feels pity, and prays to God that He release the people from their suffering. God grants

that they be given respite for a short time yearly during the Easter season.11

Bulgakov's novel depicts what is, in one sense, a sequel to this medieval text.

Whereas the medieval text describes the origins of the event, Bulgakov's novel describes

the event itself and the circumstances surrounding it. Thus, not only is a direct connection

with medieval tradition chosen as the basis of the work, but the dividing line between

fact and fiction, theology and myth, is problematized.

The fact that Bulgakov takes his subject matter directly from a medieval apoc

ryphal text is quite significant in further interpretation of that text. Firstly, it reinforces

my thesis that Bulgakov uses an alternate spatial paradigm in his construction of intellec

tual space—a paradigm that begins in the middle ages and reaches Bulgakov via Dosto-

See the analysis of The Mother of God's Going Among the Torments on page 105.

-24-


evsky. That spatial paradigm is one of unified space, in which the abstract conditioning of

an allegedly—but falsely so—pure rationality is placed at the center of spatial practice.

As this thesis progresses, I intend to demonstrate how Bulgakov constructs space

in order to shelter himself from the external pressures of forced ideology.

1.2 The Master's Basement

The initial space of examination is the master's basement. I will demonstrate how Bul

gakov uses the trope of the underground space. The basement is the space of origin for

the master, the point from which his life as 'the master' originates. Points of origin and

underground spaces are connected by concepts of primal birth and will be examined lat

er in this chapter.

The master's basement is a small apartment, with small windows near the ceiling.

The master is able to move to the basement after winning a lottery, allowing him to retire

from his job at a museum. It is very rare for an individual who is not a government offi

cial to have an apartment to his or her own self in Moscow in the 192.0S-1930S. The base

ment is where the master writes his novel about Pontius Pilate. A literary critic poses as a

friend to the master, reads a draft of the novel, and denounces the master in order to se

cure the master's removal so that the critic can himself move into the basement.

The basement apartment is first introduced in chapter thirteen, "The Hero

Enters," Ivan Bezdomny learns about it:

...Having won a hundred thousand roubles, Ivan's mysterious guest acted thus: bought books, gave up his room on Myasnitskaya...

"Ohh, that accursed hole!..." he growled. ...and rented from a builder, in a lane near the Arbat, two rooms in

the basement of a little house in the garden. He left his work at the museum and began writing a novel about Pontius Pilate.

"Ah, that was a golden age!" the narrator whispered, his eyes shining. "A completely private little apartment, plus a front hall with a sink in it," he underscored for some reason with special pride, 'little windows just level with the paved walk leading from the gate. Opposite, only four steps away, near the fence, lilacs, a linden and a maple. Ah, ah, ah! In winter it was very seldom that I saw someone's black feet through my win-

-25-


dow and heard the snow crunching under them. And in my stove afire

was eternally blazing! But suddenly spring came and through the dim

glass I saw lilac bushes, naked at first, then dressing themselves up in

green.(2) (Bulgakov 2006,191)

Renting the space from "a builder" points to a deliberate association of the master with

constructing space. Additionally, it endows the master's secretive, hermetic existence of

creativity with free-masonic overtones.12 Not only have masons been associated with de

monic practices (Amfiteatrov 2003; Haber 1985; Sokolov 2003), but Bulgakov's father

was an expert of freemasonry (Haber 1985). See page 46 for a discussion of the signifi

cance of Bulgakovs father on the genesis ofThe Master and Margarita. It may be reason

ably argued that, because Bulgakov had his father in mind when beginning the novel, his

father's work exerted some influence (Haber 1985).

The sink that the master is so proud of is a marker of cowardice, which equates

the master with Pontius Pilate, who neurotically washes his hands, trying to remove "the

worst of sins" from his conscious through the symbolic washing of blood from his hands.

The gate and the fence are markers of the liminality of the space. Black feet are a

trait of the devil (Amfiteatrov 2003). While this is a reference to black boots, the identi

fication of black feet notfeet in black boots suggests a blending of human and inhuman

qualities.

The statement about the fire in the stove that was "eternally blazing" is significant

because it introduces the theme of sources of heat and light. The theme of heat and light

is an extremely important one in The Master in Margarita. It also plays a significant role

12' Freemasonry is often associated with building and construction. The association of renting the basement from an unnamed builder with a hermetic space affected by freemasonic overtones would be problematic if it were not for two factors. Firstly, Bulgakov's father was an expert on freemasonry at the Kiev Theological Academy, and published several articles on the topic. Secondly, there is a great deal of symbolism within The Master and Margarita itself (Sokolov 2003; Haber 1985; Zerkalov 2004). Freemasonry is connected with resistance to power and spaces of refuge from authority.

- 2 6 -


in Socialist Realist literature.13 Light has been one of the most often used literary sym

bols throughout the history of literature, and is associated with the themes of knowl

edge, learning, spiritual values and hope.14 Candles are one of the central ecclesiastical

symbols. However, fire is an ambivalent metaphor. While Christ is a candle in the dark

ness, hell is also consumed by fire.15 In the context of both original sin and Goethe's

Faust, the fire of hell is a typological corollary to promethean fire. Burning to know is

shifted from a metaphor to a literalization. Divine illumination is exchanged for secular

experience. In the metaphor of this one substance—fire—it is possible to see a hint of

the duality of sacred space, in which the sacred and demonic are bound together and rep

resent a unified field of deflating the primacy of the material over the spiritual.

The Zoroastrian religion, which is practiced in ancient Persia, was a dualistic reli

gion that claimed the universe is the ground of a struggle between matter and spirit,

which co-exist in an eternal conflict. Fire was considered a symbol of purity of the spirit.

Bulgakov's use of fire symbolism is, at least tangentially, related to the sacred fire of Zo-

rastrianism. Lesley Milne states:

The evil that is vanquished in The Master and Margarita is not Woland,

however, but a historical evil, the origins and nature of which are indicat

ed in the choice of the name Ariman for the author of the first critical ar

ticle directed against the master. Ariman is the spirit of darkness and evil

in the ancient Persian Zoroastrian religion. (Milne 1977, 29)

When Berlioz is instructing Ivan Bezdomny in the supposed typological predecessors of

Christ, Berlioz also mentions Zorastrianism. Bulgakov's repeated allusion to Zorastrian-

ism is of a two-fold significance. Firstly, it reinforces the central theme of thcMaster and

13' See the discussion on light and electrification in Socialist Realist literature on page 2.13.

14' In Socialist Realist literature, it is also associated with these values, but replacesspiritual enlightenment with social enlightenment, and the rejection of the spiritual in favor of the material, seen as a triumph of reason.

15' These two types of fire would not have been considered literally to be of the same substance, as the fire of hell, when considered material, emits no light (Aquinas 2007).

-27-


Margarita of the conflict between the material and the spiritual. Secondly, it alerts the

reader that fire, as a textual image, bears a special significance, and that other apparences

of fire and/or heat must be carefully studied for their relation to the text as well as to one

another.

Associations of fire, light, divine inspiration, knowledge and destruction are con

tinued in the following paragraph of Bulgakov's text, in which the master continues de

scribing his basement:

"I opened my little windows and sat in the second, quite miniscule room." The guest began measuring with his arms: "Here's the sofa, and another sofa opposite, and a little table between them, with a beautiful night lamp on it, and books near the window, and here a small writing table, and in the first room—a huge room, one hundred and fifty square feet!—books, books and the stove. Ah, what furnishings I had! The extraordinary smell of the lilacs! And my head was getting light with fatigue, and Pilate was flying to the end... (Bulgakov 2006,192)

The lamp is explicitly associated with night, with the demonic hours of darkness, even

though it must have been used constantly as the apartment was in a state of constant twi

light [see paragraph below]. The description of the larger room is characterized by the

description of only two objects: books and the stove, an ironic exclusivity in light of

their eventual connection, in which the master burns his book in the stove.

Ivan, just as he is able to visualize the story of Ieshua Ha-Nozri in his dream, is

able to visualize the master's basement apartment: "Ivan could clearly picture to himself

the two rooms in the basement of the house, where it was always twilight because of the

lilacs and the fence. The worn red furniture, the bureau, the clock on it which struck

every half hour, and books, books from the painted floor to the sooty ceiling, and the

stove' (Bulgakov 2006,196). As stated above, the apartment is metaphorically sus

pended in the liminal state of twilight, which, through the identification of the lamp as a

night lamp, implies stronger affinity with night than day. The liminal time—twilight—is

explicitly correlated with a marker of liminal space—the fence.

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In the following paragraph a new element is introduced into the heat/light dy

namic: a kerosene stove. The kerosene stove is distinct from the wood-stove. In the Russ

ian original the word is Kepocunoexa. This word is based exclusively on kerosene.

Kerosene, a synthetic fuel, is a widespread source of heat—particularly for cooking—in

the early Soviet Union and through the period following the Second World War.

Kerosene is significant in Bulgakovs ceuvre. The primus stove [npuMyc] is a recur

ring image of communal apartments. Later in The Master and Margarita, demonic fire

will erupt from a primus stove to destroy apartment NQ 50, as well as the Griboedov

building where the representatives of official Soviet literature work, and the store that ac

cepts only foreign currency, the Torgsin. Margarita does use the kerosene stove to prepare

food, but when apocalyptic imagery is introduced, the kerosene stove is abandoned for

the wood-stove. In the quotation that follows, flooding of the "last refuge" is juxtaposed

against the wood-stove:

She would come, and put on an apron first thing, and in the narrow front hall where stood that same sink of which the poor patient was so proud, would light the kerosene stove on the wooden table, prepare lunch, and set it out on the oval table in the first room. When the May storms came and water rushed noisily through the gateway past the near-sighted windows, threatening to flood their last refuge... [they] ...would light the stove and bake potatoes in it. Steam rose from the potatoes, the black potato skins dirtied their fingers/5' (Bulgakov 2006,198)

The master and Margarita light the wood-stove when confronted with deluge, and cook

potatoes, transforming the water contained therein into steam, separating it from the

skin of the potatoes, consumed by the fire. In the transformational system of literary

metaphor, it is possible to discern an element of foreshadowing of the eventual fate of

the master and Margarita themselves: they will be murdered during a rainstorm, depart

Moscow in spirit, and the apartment will be destroyed in fire.

It was finished in the month of August, was given to some unknown typist, and she typed it in five copies. And finally the hour came when he had to leave his secret refuge and go out into life.

"And I went out into life holding it in my hands, and then my life ended," the master whispered....<6) (Bulgakov zoo6,197-98)

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In the passage above, the underground apartment is twice associated with death. Firstly

when the narrator refers to the apartment as "their last refuge," which is also the descrip

tion used for the limbo into which the master and Margarita are placed at the end of the

novel after their deaths from poison. Secondly, when the master states that by leaving the

apartment he went "out into life," thereby equating the apartment with death.

The basement apartment is not described again in detail until chapter thirty, "It's

Time! It's Time!" in which the master and Margarita are poisoned and leave Moscow: The room also had a strange look, and it was very hard to make anything out in its chaos. Manuscripts were lying on the rug, and on the sofa as well. A book sat humpbacked on an armchair. And dinner was set among the dishes of food. Where all this food and drink came from was known neither to Margarita nor to the master. On waking they found everything already on the table. (Bulgakov 2006, 522-23)

This scene engages the trope of the devil's feast, which is a common component of the de

monic. In this trope, a person partakes of a magical feast that is set by the devil. The dev

il's feast is a component of systems of witchcraft, and is at times equivalent to the devil's

ball. Partaking of a meal with the devil often symbolizes entering into some sort of un

derstanding or agreement with him (Amfiteatrov 2003; Muchembled 2003). This is a

common trope in demonic subject matter, but there are further social meanings in The

Master and Margarita.

The end of the apartment comes after the end of apartment NQ 50, when Woland

is commissioned with taking the master and Margarita to their final destination.

For a period of time in the 1930s, Bulgakov was the subject of a heated campaign

of criticism against him because his works did not adequately express proletarian values.

Bulgakov wrote a letter of protest to the Soviet government on 28 March 1930, request

ing permission to emigrate because he has been denied the means of making a living in

the Soviet Union, as his works are not being published or performed.

The master chooses, while alive, to internally emigrate—to remain within the

physical confines of the Soviet Union, but to attempt to withdraw into the self—into in-

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ternal space. After expressing desire to emigrate in his letter of 28 March 1930 to the

Government of the Soviet Union, Bulgakov became resigned to a life in which he was

under constant threat of repression. Having attempted to emigrate to a country outside

the Soviet Union, for a certain period Bulgakov appears to attempt an internal emigra

tion, trying to find whatever work he can, because his own works are not being published

or performed. It seems that the master has undergone a similar process to a greater extent

when he entirely renounces his work. The master, when offered the manuscript of his

novel about Pontius Pilate by Woland immediately after the great ball, refuses to take the

manuscript, claiming that his work has brought him too much trouble. Margarita takes

the manuscript, but the master entirely refuses to engage in productive enterprise be

cause of his intimidation by the critics. Interestingly, in both valuational systems—Soviet

and Christian—such an action is paradigmatically a sin. For the Soviets, anyone who re

fuses to work is a parasitical element, and is either compelled to work or else subjected to

some kind of punitive action. In the Christian system, a person who has been granted

talent by God and refuses to use that talent is guilty of wasting the gifts of God, as ex

pressed in the parable of the man who buried the capital he was given instead of invest

ing it (Matthew 25.15). Christ, in the collection of parables, expresses this notion with

the metaphor of "hiding a candle under a bushel basket" (Matthew 5.15). The master re

nounces his calling and chooses to cut himself off from the world surrounding him, not

for the purpose of safe production, but for the purpose of mere survival and cessation of

effort.

It is possible to read this decision as cowardice: emigration rather than the effort

at reverse colonization. In coming to a new society, the emigre is him- or herself colo

nized in the context of the chosen environment. In an earlier version of the novel, the

theme of the master and cowardice is developed further than in the final version, and the

masters final destination—his place in the hierarchy of the life to come—is expressed ex-

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plicitly in terms of reward and space. The sin of cowardice is connected with the type of

space in which Margarita and the master will eventually reside:

Bulgakov laboured especially over the conclusion of the novel and what reward to give the master. The ending appears for the first time in a chapter entitled 'Last Flight', dating from July 1936. It differs little from the final version. In it, however, the master is told explicitly and directly:

"The house on Sadovaya and the horrible Bosoy will vanish from your memory, but with them will go Ha-Nozri and the forgiven hegemony. These things are not for your spirit. You will never raise yourself higher, you will not see Yeshua, you will never leave your refuge."

In an earlier note, Bulgakov had written even more tellingly: 'You will not hear the liturgy. But you will listen to the romantics...'These words, which do not appear in the definitive text, tell us how painfully Bulgakov weighed the question of cowardice and guilt in considering the fate of his hero, and how we should understand the ending of the final version. They also indicate a thematic link between Pilate, the master, and the author himself, connecting the historical and contemporary parts of the novel. (Pevear 1997,16)

The above quotation is significant because of its subversion of romantic values. Bulgakov

is often thought of as a Romantic writer, but this quotation shows him subjugating Ro

mantic values to a medieval valuational system:

"Bulgakov, still pondering the problem of the master's guilt (and his own, for what he considered various compromises, including his work on a play about Stalin's youth), went back to his notes and revisions from 1936, but lightened their severity with an enigmatic irony. This was to be the definitive resolution. Clearly, the master is not to be seen as a heroic martyr for art or a 'Christ-figure.' Bulgakov's gentle irony is a warning against the mistake, more common in our time than we might think, of equating artistic mastery with a sort of saintliness, or, in Kierkegaard's terms, of confusing the aesthetic with the ethical" (Pevear 1997,16).

The meaning of this "last refuge" would seem to be inherently connected to the topos of

the basement apartment. Both spaces serve as "refuges" for the master. It would seem also

that both spaces are connected to the sin of cowardice.

The three themes expressed in the above quotations—hierarchical values, space

and subversion of romantic values—are of greater significance for The Master and Mar

garita than than is apparent. These three values are essential components of a valuational

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core of the novel, which seeks to resist hegemony by creating liminal space and populat

ing that with the medieval/Renaissance valuational system. The values of The Master and

Margarita seem to be unequivocally Romantic. However, Romantic values are demon

strated to be seriously deficient and are negated. As expressed in the quotations above,

while the Romantically-tinged limbo in which the master finds himself at the end of the

novel may seem like a paradise, it is, in fact, not. This fact has been noted by Lesley Milne

as well:

The 'peace' that the master is granted is peace in which to realize his creative plans—but it is a curiously materialistic 'peace:' in idyllic surroundings, which are, let it be confessed, frankly pre-revolutionary. And the master's peace is guarded by Margarita in this very earthly Elysium. This materialistically appointed 'Eternal Refuge' may seem strange in a novel that is so fundamentally anti-materialistic, but it represents the synthesis of the spiritual and the material in the master, who, after all, contains in himself elements both of Pilate and of Yeshua. The master is rewarded 'according to his faith.... The master's 'peace' is akin to that enjoyed by the virtuous pagans who inhabit the pleasant meadows of Limbo in the First Circle of Dante's Inferno. Limbo is the pagan Elysium; its inhabitants have been rewarded by the best that they could imagine. Their only fault was that, not having Christian faith, they could imagine no better—and they are thereby excluded from the light of Paradise, into which Dante himself ascends, through the strata of ever-intensifying light, its source. (It is noteworthy that Bulgakov's annotations in his copy of Florensky'si7^-tions in Geometry concern Florensky's interpretation of Dante's Empyrean.) (Milne 1977,15-26)

One can discern the medieval/Renaissance valuational schema in other places of the

novel, as well. One of those places, as Lesley Milne notes, is in the distribution of puni

tive justice administered by Woland:

Woland accepts without demur the subordination of his 'department' to Yeshua's in the supernatural hierarchy—this idea of the two 'departments' being skilful piece of navigation through the old theological dilemma of retributive versus redemptive justice. Although Margarita hails him as 'all-powerful,' Woland is not omnipotent, or at least chooses not to be; he refuses to release through compassion... (Milne 1977, 27)

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The bearing of affliction as a spiritual good that originates from God and is instrumental

in the purification of the individual is a concept that finds its most effective early expres

sion in the Book of Job, and is a continual theme in the middle ages. The Romantics,

however, had adopted a stance of rebellion against what they would consider the injus

tice of God, W h o allows evil into the world. Instead of following the divine order of

Dante, the Romantics, in the vein of Byron and Lermontov, chose to misunderstand

Milton's Paradise Lost, in which Satan declares "non servito" and which is taken as an ad

mirable act of defiance. Milton, a pious Puritan, did not endow Satan with any ad

mirable characteristics after the fall. Satan's defiance is not admirable, it is foolishness, be

cause, from Milton's viewpoint, there is no good, nothing worthy of admiration and no

lasting order outside of God, not because God is a tyrant, but because the universe is so

constructed.16 The master is guilty of the same sin as Milton's Satan, only in less spectac

ular manifestation. The master also states "non servito" through his actions of refusing to

work to express the truth as he sees it. Whether or not his novel about Pontius Pilate is

commensurate with the truth of the fact—if, in Bulgakov's intention, the events of the

crucifixion and resurrection occurred as he and others in The Master and Margarita said

they did—the master nevertheless had the obligation to search for and express divine

truth to the best of his ability. The master refuses, out of fear instead of pride, but the

fact of the refusal is the same. The master does not deserve to hear the harmony of the

Liturgy because he will not contribute to that harmony.17

16- To use a contemporary analogy: it is known that all matter vibrates. From Milton's ideological standpoint, to use quantum vibration as a metaphor, one might say that all matter can either vibrate in consonance with or dissonance against God, and that dissonance leads to entropy and a move from order to chaos, and that chaos is neither admirable or beneficial.

17' In another correlation with medieval/Renaissance spatial practice, the identification of the singing of the Liturgy with the empyrean is a concept found in Dante that is based on the Ptolmeic concept of the cosmos being made up of spheres, each of one which vibrates according to its own harmony. The medieval theorists later identified that theorized harmony with the singing of the angels, which the "hosannah" sung during thcSanctus et Benedictus sections of the Liturgy are supposed to reproduce and take part in on earth.

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In refusing to serve God, the master, by default, serves the devil.18 Perhaps that is

why Woland, the devil, is so eager to help the master without any seeming benefit for

himself. That benefit is that the master, not through what he has done but what he has

failed to do, has already served the devil. The master has contributed to despair. It is not

something for which the master is judged too harshly. Certainly no human being can

render judgement on anyone who was in such a situation. Few or any of us in contempo

rary North American society can understand the depth of fear prevalent in the Soviet

Union in the 1910s and 1930s, and we do not have the right to pronounce judgement.

However, in The Master and Margarita it may be possible to detect Bulgakov meditating

upon these circumstances and the moral ramifications of the time and society in which

he worked. Bulgakov, if my placement of the novel within these ideological parameters is

accurate, is somewhat saddened by the paralysis caused by fear that has settled upon

those whose moral conscious allows them to see the evil of the Stalinist system for what

it is. However, Bulgakov, living in that system and cooperating with it in order to survive,

does not judge his protagonists harshly, and endows them with a dreary and unenlight

ened, though safe and comfortable, final destination.

When the master and Margarita are returned to the basement apartment at the

end of the novel, circumstances are different. They are magically provided for. They have

served the devil, and now he will serve them:

The room also had a strange look, and it was very hard to make anything out in its chaos. Manuscripts were lying on the rug, and on the sofa as well. A book sat humpbacked on an armchair. And dinner was set out on the round table, with several bottles standing among the dishes of food. Where all this food and drink came from was known neither to Margarita nor the master. On waking up they found everything already on the table. (Bulgakov 2006, 519)

18' Although the devil does not seem "bad" in The Master and Margarita, it is clear that he has come to Moscow to tempt, test and punish, and by compounding despair the master participates unconsciously in that process.

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The space is not one of order, warmth and coziness, of a safe place to work, but rather

one of chaos and entropy. Order has been violated. Textual evidence suggests that the

master, having been presented with an affliction ritual, has failed it: he is granted only

peace, not 'light! His physical needs appear to have been provided for in the form of su-

pernaturally appearing food and drink, but it is also a pointed reminder that man does

not live by bread alone. The space to which the master and Margarita return is different

from the space they left. The space they left was a space of opportunity. The Master was

granted an almost miraculous opportunity to work, to create something useful in those

times, and though we cannot be sure of the value of what he created—of whether or not

it was the right thing—we can be reasonably assured that he made a mistake in refusing

to continue his work. The basement space that the master returns to is different as a

result of the masters decision. It is a space of lost opportunity, of denied potential. Bul

gakov continues to make subtle hint that this space is irrevocably altered:

Having slept until sunset Saturday, the master and his friend felt themselves thoroughly fortified, and only one thing told of the previous day's adventure—both had a slight ache in the left temple. But with regard to their minds, there were great changes in both of them, as anyone would have been convinced who was able to eavesdrop on the conversation in the basement. But there was decidedly no one to eavesdrop. That little courtyard was good precisely for being always empty. (Bulgakov 2.006, 519)

The minds of the master and Margarita have undergone a "great change." Further in the

chapter it becomes clear that they can no longer inhabit their Moscow apartment. The

decision to remove the master and Margarita from the underground basement space is

arrived at in the beginning of the chapter. Woland and Azazello meet with Matthew the

Levite on top of the Lenin Library in Moscow and debate the nature of light and dark

ness, which assume their usual metaphoric significances for good and evil. The scene is be

gun with a description that mirrors the panopticon:

At sunset, high over the city, on the stone terrace of one of the most beautiful houses in Moscow, a house built about a hundred and fifty years ago, there were two: Woland and Azazello. They could not be seen from the

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street below, because they were hidden from unwanted eyes by balustrade

with plaster vases and plaster flowers. But they could see the city almost to

its very edges. (Bulgakov 1006, 511)

The panopticon was developed in the nineteenth century as new type of prison, in which

the jailers can observe the prisoners but the prisoners cannot see the jailers or each other.

The jailers sit at the center, and the prisoners in radial cells. Foucault (1986) uses this pri

son as a metaphor for society, in which people remain subservient to power because of

the possibility—if not the actuality—of constant observation.

Although Bulgakov did not envision a panopticon as the principle of construc

tion for this scene, the scene is constructed according to similar principles. Those princi

ples are: observation by one individual or group of a second individual or group. Within

the act of observation is a clear power relation: the one observed is subordinate to the

observer. That subordination exists within a specific ideological framework. The observer

is the representative of a moral order.19 The one being observed is in such a position be

cause the individual or group has either violated or is considered to be capable and likely

to violate the moral order. Thus a panopticon is a corrective and/or preventative space.

On one level, the entire universe is a panopticon in the worldview of many religions:

God is sees and knows all, but creatures cannot see God unless God intentionally reveals

Himself.20

Both the sacred world-order and the Soviet system resemble, in some way, a

panopticon. However, the assertion that a sacred cosmology—with God at the center

and creatures at the edges, constantly observable by God—resembles a panopticon in

19- The term moral order is here used in the most general sense, as there are many differing moral orders, many of which are mutually exclusive.

20' Interestingly, the language of Genesis seems to intentionally subvert the panopticon-view of the structure of the universe. After Adam and Eve have sinned, they clothe themselves. When God appears before them, He asks them why they have clothed themselves, at which they confess their sin of eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Although logic dictates that God knows what they have done, he conducts the inquiry as if He had not seen it.

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some way does not imply that the sacred world is a prison. In a theocentric world, the

one in which any professed Christian, Jew or Muslim or other monotheistic believer

lives, communion with God and conformity to God's will is the essential element of pur

pose in the world and the only goal, through its multifaceted corollaries, that is worth

pursuing in the world. Furthermore, as God is, in essence, omnipotent and omniscient, it

is impossible for God not to see and know all.21

In The Master and Margarita, as suggested by the passage quoted above, Bul

gakov sets up a dual panopticon, not knowing or consciously employing the concept of

the panopticon. The first panopticon is the temporal oppression of the Soviet state, spy

ing on its citizens, fostering fear and suspicion among them, and threatening them with

imprisonment and death at any moment.

On the second level there is the metaphysical panopticon, the omniscient God,

who is by nature aware of His creation's actions and thoughts. The Soviet government

and its agents are trapped in this panopticon, though they outwardly deny its existence.

In The Master and Margarita the demons enter into the world to reinforce the concept

of the omniscient God, the fact that there is a higher authority, literally the author of all

that exists.22 The metaphysical panopticon, paradoxically allows freedom, as God does

not interfere in exercise of free will of His creations. It provides the context for the cre

ation of meaning, not of external control. The physical panopticon, however, is exclusive

ly a means of control. The mirror kingdoms of heaven and hell are a common theme in

medieval thought, and Bulgakov, whether or not intentionally, reproduces that theme in

21' The reader should be aware that, although there was extensive medieval debate over whether or not God could have any limitations as a result of contradicting His own essence, that debate is not relevant to the reasoning of this section. The reader should be aware that, my statement concerning the Book of Genesis is not to be extended to the nature of God, but only an observation of a literary appearance [see note 20 on page 37].

22' This trope is echoed especially in two other places in The Master and Margarita. Firstly, when Ieshua states that Pilate did not hang the thread by which his life hangs, and therefore cannot cut it. Secondly, when Bosoi, under arrest, tells the NKVD that God sees all.

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The Master and Margarita. The space of oppression, which is traditionally assigned to

the devil, is created by human hands, and the devil provides the opportunity either to

place one's self into conformity with this space, or to transcend it. Once again, this is an

example of the transfer of what is often associated with the negative aspects of the devil

to human beings, reinforcing the statement that evil originates within the human being,

and is not metaphysically exterior to the human will. Thus Bulgakov simultaneously

makes a statement about spaces interior and exterior to the human being.

One of the significances of the master's basement is that it is—or at least imag

ined to be—a refuge from the panopticon. Its underground location suggests the quality

of being hidden. Although at the heart of Moscow—and Soviet power—it also has the

feeling of being remote and distant from the world. Bulgakov's frequent assertion of the

isolated nature of the basement apartment and of the courtyard are contradictory to its

physical location on the map. This is not to say that all locations in Moscow must be

crowded. However, the general themes presented in the novel—that of central Moscow

and peripheral basement—do appear constructed in an oppositional fashion.

The second paragraph of the chapter reinforces the importance of both space and

of the observer's gaze:

Wbland was sitting on a folding stool, dressed in his black soutane.... Resting his sharp chin on his fist, hunched on the stool with one leg drawn under him, Wbland stared fixedly at the endless collection of palaces, gigantic buildings and little hovels destined to be pulled down.

Azazello, having parted with his modern attire—that is, jacket, bowler hat and patent-leather shoes—and dressed, like Wbland, in black, stood motionless not far from his sovereign, like him with his eyes fixed on the city. (Bulgakov 1006, 511)

The panopticon gaze that Wbland and Azazello extend over the city encompass both the

great and the small structures that form the city—the space of rich and poor alike. This

scene is evocative of the most notable scene from the Bible in which Satan stands on a

high point and surveys space: the third temptation of Christ, in which Satan takes

Christ to the top of the temple and shows Him all the kingdoms of the world and offers

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them to Christ if Christ will worship him. Christ declines the offer. Instead, Christ tells

Satan that all the earthly kingdoms mean nothing in comparison with the kingdom of

the spirit. This allusion is essential to understanding the system of values o£Jhe Master

and Margarita. Firstly, it sets Soviet Moscow into perspective as a transient, temporal

kingdom that will eventually fall before the kingdom of the spirit. Secondly, it clarifies

the master's sin. The master has, because of cowardice, rejected the kingdom of the spirit

in favor of a peaceful existence hidden in a small corner of the earthly kingdom. The

master and Margarita are collected by Azazello, and it is Azazello who burns down the

master's apartment. Lesley Milne has noted special significance in this division of labor: Azazello in the finale assumes his true form of 'the demon of the waterless desert, the demon-murderer'... the word 'desert,' however, recalls Margarita's exclamation to the master: 'You unfortunate man, how little faith you have... Look at your eyes! There is a desert in them"... On this basis Azazello can be interpreted as a spiritual emanation of yet another aspect of the master—that aspect which the master had himself embodied in the figure of Pilate, with his Tack of faith...' the spiritual desert in which Pilate kills. When one investigates further the meaning and associations of the name Azazello, however, veritably fathomless pits of exegesis open up. (Milne 1977, 31)

The desert is a space of multivalent and essential significance. It is the space in which

Christ undergoes the temptations. It is the space where countless anchorites follow

Christ's example of retiring to the desert to purify themselves. Often they are confronted

by demons. The most notable example is of Saint Anthony, the founder of monasticism,

who also is known for resisting demons in the desert that were attempting to distract

him from his spiritual work. In the Christian tradition, the desert is established as a dual

space. Firstly, it is peripheral to the world of man, but because of the spiritual work per

formed there by the anchorites, it is central to the world of God, inasmuch as a created

space can said to be central to God. Secondly, it is a space of great peril but also of great

opportunity. Those who resist temptation may look forward to glory in heaven, which

they might not have achieved without testing in the desert. The harsh environment of

the desert gave rise to three of the primary monotheistic religions in the world: Judaism,

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Christianity and Islam, who share the same God, who communicated most often in the

desert with his followers. God, however, is not the only one in the desert. Milne points

out that the demon Azazel, who abides in the desert, taught humans the bad aspects of

civilization:

'Azazel' is frequently mentioned in the Book of Enoch, where he is the fallen angel who 'taught men to make swords, and knives, and shields, and breastplates, and made known to them the metals of the earth, and the art of working them, and bracelets, and ornaments, and the use of antimony, and the beautifying of the eyelids, and all kinds of costly stones, and all coloring tinctures. And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray, and became corrupt in all their ways' (i Enoch 8): 'Azazel... hath taught all unrighteousness on earth and revealed the eternal secrets which were preserved in heaven, which men were striving to learn' (9); "The Lord said to Raphael: "Bind Azazel hand and foot and cast him into darkness, and make an opening in the desert... and cast him therein ... The whole earth hath been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin"' (10)... This list of charges against Azazel provides grounds for seeing him as a personification of the evils of human civilization: he has taught men deadly arts and given them deadly knowledge. The word Azazel' itself, however, means 'scapegoat,' and is used in this sense in the Book of Leviticus (16), where it is laid down that on the Day of Atonement the sins of the people would be laid symbolically on the scapegoat, which is then to be led out into the wilderness, thereby taking away the sins laid upon it. This sacrifice has been interpreted as pre-figuring the sacrifice of Christ... (Milne 1977, 31)

In languages such as Russian and English, civilization proceeds from the Latin civitas, the

same word that produces city in English. The concept of civilization is inherently bound

to the concept of the city (LeGates and Stout 2007). In accepting the benefits of living in

the city—of civilization—the people also accept the risks, which include the risk of

totalitarianism by a central power.

To summarize, spatial practice reveals currents in The Master and Margarita that

might not otherwise have been visible. The ethical orientation of the novel is difficult to

discern. For example, Lesley Milne's final judgement of The Master and Margarita and

the master's role therein is unequivocally positive:

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[Bulgakov] was leaving the world at a moment of historical darkness—but he left behind, as his last truth, a dramatic mimesis of redemption and a triumphant asseveration of faith: paper can be destroyed but manuscripts do not burn; men can be killed but their ideas and spirit are immortal. The intricate Gothic tracery of the novel's figures celebrates a victory, a triumph of the spirit. In the last analysis, the exploits of Woland and his retinue are nothing so much as a glorious comedy of victory, a comedy transcending the blackness of the historical night. And is it not finally this sense of triumphant liberation that affords the reader of The Master and Margarita such spectacular enjoyment? The novel is, like its ancestor the medieval mystery play, a comedy of spiritual victory over the material world and death. (Milne 1977, 33)

As Milne states above, manuscripts do not burn. However, that is not necessarily consis

tent with what an individual might desire at certain moments. Furthermore, sins cannot

be erased or covered up, they can only be absolved through affliction. The ideas and

sprits of men may be immortal, but for some men that would be a frightening thing and

offensive to their pride, as they are subject to judgement. The novel is indeed a triumph

of the spirit. However, there is more gravity, difficulty complications behind that tri

umph than Milne accounts for. While Milne's comparison of the medieval morality play

is valid and worthwhile, it is more complex than the two-dimensional schema of the

morality play. Although The Master and Margarita certainly does not have the depth

and complexity of The Brothers Karamazov, understanding Dostoevsky's dynamics in

that and other works of his can provide insight into Bulgakov's work.

As a result of this analysis, I disagree with Lesley Milne's assertion that The Mas

ter and Margarita is a "comedy of victory." Rather, it is one of defeat. It is not a tragedy

because it can only be defeat in the short term. Bulgakov's novel, like Dostoevsky's

works, profess that, because there is no power higher than God, there can be no tragic

ending unless the individual chooses it for himself.

1.2.1 Space as a Subject

In this section I will briefly outline the practice and significance of the study of space.

The study of space as such arose in the fields of anthropology, sociology and economics. -42-


Henri Lefebvre published The Production of Space (1991), which serves as my basis in un

derstanding space as an ideologically produced field, which I see as partly social.

Bulgakov's ceuvre is centered around space and spatial usage. Although this con

cern extends to the macrospatial scale—i.e. the Soviet Union—it originates on the mi-

crospatial scale: the apartment. Qualities and conditions of space are an obsession for

Bulgakov equally in his personal life and his writing. Because the act of writing is a

means of ideologically ordering the world, writing a work of fiction cannot be viewed as

an isolated activity. Rather, it is a contribution to the formation and/or manipulation of

space, in that a work argues for the espousal of one or another ideological viewpoint.

The twentieth century has seen millions of people suffer and die as a result of ide

ology and theories about what the nature of the world is. Works of literary fiction, as ex

pressions of ideology and theories about what the nature of the world is, are significant

artifacts that are both catalysts and results of such systems. The value of studying a liter

ary text is then not aesthetic pleasure—although this may accompany it—but rather an

urgent, "real-life" need to engage with the ideas according to which people order their

lives, and some people try to order the lives of other people.

The study of literature is, in one way, similar to the study of space, in that both

things are both products and producers of ideology. Both exist on the mental plane, but

can have drastic consequences in the physical world.

For Mikhail Bulgakov especially, space is not an abstract concept but rather an

immediate physical concern of primary importance.

Bulgakov arrived in Moscow during the night of 28 September 1921 and spends

his first night in the city in the dormitory of the medical institute at 18 Malaia Pirogov-

skaia Street (Sokolov 2003, 572). Bulgakov's productivity as a writer is closely inter

twined with the space he inhabits:

Among my spleen and longing for the past, sometimes, like now, in this absurd condition of temporary tightness, in the vile room of a vile house, I have surges of confidence and strength. And now I sense in myself how my thought is rising up, and I believe that I am immeasurably stronger as a

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writer than anyone I know. However, in such conditions as these, I may perish. (Bulgakov 2004a, 67-68)

In addition to working conditions, space is, for Bulgakov, inherently tied to questions of

human dignity.

Space is a field that is anchored at or around a given set of coordinates. Spatial

practice defines a spatial field, specifically, the practice of a certain ideology or doctrine.

As Jean Baudrillard states, people are determined by the spaces they create, inhabit or in

vest in: "Each room...ultimately refers to a view which conceives of the individual as a

balanced assemblage of distinct faculties" (2005,13). Objects are focal points of the gen

eration of ideology: "A bed is a bed, a chair is a chair, and there is no relationship be

tween them, so long as each serves only the function it is supposed to serve. And without

such a relationship there can be no space, for space exists only when it is opened up, ani

mated, invested with rhythm and expanded by a correlation between objects and a

transcendence of their functions in this new structure" (Baudrillard 2005,17).

Space can be constructed on many levels, including the official and the unofficial.

Space must logically be demarcated through sensory markers. Sensory markers are trans

lated into doctrinal instructions and codes. Sensory markers are correlated with doctrinal

instructions by ideology, which in one form or another is an all-pervasive presence in so

cial life. Additionally, an individual must negotiate a private relationship to the inhabit

ed space. Space can be altered by a wide variety of sensory markers. Elements of space

include:

• Size • large spaces give the impression of grandeur 8C power • small space can give the impression of intimacy &C security

• Shape • the cathedral is analogous to the ship • Stalinist construction was built in block form to denote efficiency

• Lighting • dim lighting can be used to emphasize solemnity - clear, bright electric lighting can be used to emphasize modernity, cleanliness &

efficiency • Sound

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• sound is a cardinal property of space, and is endowed with both physical and transcendental properties; furthermore, sound has much in common with the mathematical principles of architecture

• Temperature • heat is normally associated with demonic space, though cold can be a feature of

demonic space as well • Scent

• incense • cooking & food preparation • natural scents, such as wormwood (Professor Peter A. Rolland, conference pre

sentation: "Homesickness, Memory, and 'The Legend of Khan Otrok and the Wormwood,' in the Galician-Vblhynian Chronicle? Studies in Ukrainian Culture and Ethnicity: Academic and Community Perspectives, Edmonton, Canada, 26-28 April 1996).

• Directional orientation - in many traditions, the entrance of a church faces east; the center of the Christian

world could be considered the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem • Islamic space is at all times oriented towards the Ka Ba in Mecca

In a way, then, space is the manifestation of thought into the physical plane—a kind of

reverse abstraction just as much as abstraction.

In the 1950s social scientists began to examine space—the coordinates and sur

rounding physical and symbolic features located within those coordinates—in a new way

(Shields 2006). Henri Lefebvre (1991) theorizes that specially constructed spaces reflect

the means by which the the constructing entity seeks to dominate the users of that space.

Michel Foucault (1986), in a brief lecture, questions how space is inherently connected

to power and governance by a hegemonic order. An investigation into space, though ex

tremely rewarding in terms of understanding an ideological system, is also very difficult:

"Analysis is complicated by the intangibility (virtuality) of physical space" (Shields 2006,

147). It is known that certain places encourage certain types of conduct (Smith 2007).

In order to understand the phenomenon of spatial usage in the context of nine

teenth and early twentieth century Russian society, I will draw upon varied, seemingly

incongruent sources, such as Lefebvre's critique of capitalist spatial usage and Katerina

Clark's study of Socialist Realist literature. These elements are connected, though, by the

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logic of the connection of real space with mental space, which ideologically orients real

space. Indeed, the two are inseparable.

Many critics ponder Bulgakov's purpose in writing Tfo Master and Margarita?. It

is known that it was begun with the memory of his father, a professor of the Kiev Theo

logical Academy (Haber 1985). The exact relationship of the theme with Bulgakov's fa

ther, and the extent to which that relationship defined the development of the novel

through its long gestation is not clear. Bulgakov's father was a professor of comparative

religion at the Kiev Theological Academy. If The Master and Margarita is inspired by his

memory, that means that the novel's religious subtext is of the utmost importance. Be

yond a simple memorial, The Master and Margarita is a polemical text that subverts the

established and enforced order of atheism. It is an attempt ztreverse-colonization, explo

ration of the newly materialist-dominated space, and integration with the lineage of sa

cred space that had come to define Europe in the previous two millennia.

I intend to demonstrate that The Master and Margarita is significantly more uni

fied in textual intention and methodology than previously supposed. The unity of the

text can be understood through its spatial practice. Bulgakov was writing his novel at a

time when the Soviet powers were actively engaged in a campaign of the destruction of

religious sacred space and the creation of their own, materialist, secularly sacred space.

Bulgakov resists this process by sacralizing secular—that is, thcsecularly sacred. He is able

to do this by de-emphasizing the delineations between sacred and secular space, a prac

tice that has extensive precedence in early modern Europe.23 Bulgakov is involved in a

spatial reconquista of the Soviet Union, which he conducts on the level of personal ideol

ogy and freedom. This is not a fight to ideologically return Russia to its previous, pre-

revolutionary state, but rather to reverse-colonize the colonizer [Soviet power] by re-

One of the prominent examples is the relationship between church and tavern and the unexpected interactions between the two. See the discussion on the problematization of boundaries between sacred and profane in early-modern Europe on page zo8.

-46-


minding the reader of the Christian tradition from which Russian culture springs. This is

not a polemic that explicitly champions Orthodoxy, but rather an attempt to evoke spiri

tual freedom and loosen the grip of an ideology founded upon materialism and enforced

with extreme violence. Bulgakov's attempt to re-conquer the Soviet Union is not an at

tempt to seize control of the land, but to make the land safe for individual freedom.

The devil is essential to this process, because the transgression of boundaries be

tween the sacred and profane is inherent to his nature. Furthermore, the devil is not de

fined through a consistent and unified conceptual framework. Demonic practice has var

ied and conflicting significances. Bulgakov taps into a certain set of significances in order

to conduct his spatial polemic.

1.2.2 Medieval and Early Modern Spatial Practice

The Soviets sought to secularize sacred space, which is visibly manifested in the destruc

tion of churches. Bulgakov seeks to sacralize secular space. The Soviets attempted to cre

ate their own 'sacred' space, honoring the gods of the Soviet pantheon: Marx, Lenin and

Stalin. However, one trinity cannot replace another so easily.

The very concepts of sacred and secular space are themselves problematic. They

are not as clearly defined and demarcated as is sometimes suggested. This tradition can

be traced throughout history, and takes on special relevance in Bulgakov s context.

When sacred space was being destroyed by the Soviet authorities and re-formed

through Bulgakovs literary efforts, the line between sacred and secular became very ill

defined indeed. This lack of clear demarcation between sacred and secular leads to a lim-

inalization of space: "Ever since Emile Durkheim identified the distinction between the

sacred and the profane as a characteristic of all religions, sociologists, anthropologists

and historians have examined the manifold manifestations of this polarity and the 'limi-

nal' areas in between" (Kiimin 2005,17).

The question of unified literary space touches, not upon the topos, but upon the

representation of the world, not as a series of fragments, but as subject to one unified

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whole. Socialist Realist works attempt to duplicate this space, but ultimately fail. Litera

ture provides a link between experience and idea. It is itself a liminal space between the

real and the projected. This tension between real and projected is the essence of spatial

production. A visible constructed space is the concrete manifestation of mental projec

tion—as is a literary monument. A constructed space is different from a work of archi

tecture specifically in that a written text remains a mental abstraction, but constructed

spaces fuse mental abstraction with the most visceral of reactions. A constructed space

physically seeks to divide the individual from the surrounding space and to place the in

dividual into a certain mode of existence, complete with specific suppositions and to per

form specific functions. It is, in a sense, literature made corporeal. Thus, there are spaces

in literature and literature in spaces.

Lefebvre argues that human-generated space is inherently ideological. His thesis

is that the space of the contemporary city perpetuates the capitalist system that created

it. Anything that is an organizer or enforcer of ideology is open to question—dialo-

gism—and thus polemics. Generated space is meant to organize the activities that occur

within that space. Lefebvre designates a space as 'contradictory' when activities occur

that are contrary to the intended purpose or ideological orientation of a given space.

From his Marxist perspective, Lefebvre describes what he considers resistance to the cap

italist order that takes place in the spaces created by capitalism. In my analysis I am de

scribing how spaces that are re-ordered by a materialist temporal power for the purpose

of propagating that power are, through Bulgakov's text—which, remember, is a cousin of

space—made contradictory. Bulgakov transforms those spaces that are meant to destroy

belief in the non-material into spaces that compel the subject to consider the world of

the non-material.

Contradictory space is what causes the fragmentation of homogenous space. Uni

fied space, however, is not subject to the dangers inherent in contradictory space, because

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contradictions arise from the forced imposition of homogeneity. In the medieval period,

however, space was not yet sufficiently abstracted to be vulnerable to contradiction.

Eliade is clear about the manner in which sacred space can be constructed. The

most prominent sacred space reproduces the initial, cosmological construction of space.

Sacred spaces are symbolically positioned in the center:

This same symbolism of the center explains other series of cosmological images and religious beliefs. Among these the most important are: (a) holy sites and sanctuaries are believed to be situated at the center of the world; (b) temples are replicas of the cosmic mountain and hence constitute the pre-eminent "link" between earth and heaven; (c) the foundations of temples descend into the lower regions. (Eliade 1959, 39)

The significance of this observation is that earth cannot be connected to heaven without

the mediation of the devil. Even in non-lapsarian24 demonological cosmogony, the earth

was given over to the devil as a grounds for testing. The underworld that Eliade places in

direct alignment with heaven and earth is the place where the cosmogony is rooted: ...it was also in Babylon that the connection between earth and the lower regions was made, for the city had been built on... "the Gate of Apsu," apsu being the name for the waters of chaos before creation. The same tradition is found among the Hebrews; the rock of the Temple of Jerusalem reached deep into the tehom, the Hebrew equivalent otapsu. And, just as Babylon had its Gate of Apsu, the rock of the temple in Jerusalem contained the "mouth of the tehom"

The apsu, the tehom symbolize the chaos of waters, the preformal modality of cosmic matter, and, at the same time, the world of death, of all that precedes and follows life. The Gate of Apsu and the rock containing the "mouth of the tehom" designate not only the point of intersection—and hence of communication—between the lower world and the earth, but also the difference in ontological status between these two cosmological planes. There is a break of plane between the tehom and the rock of the Temple that blocks its mouth, passage from the virtual to the formal, from life to death. The watery chaos that preceded Creation at the same time symbolizes the retrogression to the formless that follows on death, return to the larval modality of existence. From one point of view, the lower regions can be homologized to the unknown and desert regions

Non-lapsarian as applies to the devil, not to man in this instance.

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that surround the inhabited territory; the underworld, over which our cosmos is firmly established, corresponds to the chaos that extends to its frontiers. (Eliade 1959, 41-4Z)

Eliade's excavation of Babylonian beliefs is not applicable to The Master and Margarita.

However, the passage quoted above illustrates how Jewish tradition—which was later co-

incorporated into Christianity—ordered sacred space. Whether through authorial inten

tion or not, Bulgakov's novel is bound to this tradition, as it underlies the entire Christ

ian conception of sacred space.

In concepts of sacred space, the city represents order amidst outer chaos. This

topos originates, at latest, with the Greeks, and is transferred into Christianity fully with

Saint Augustine's City of God. Eliade remarks on the topos of the city, stating:

Since 'our world' is a cosmos, any attack from without threatens to turn it into chaos. And as 'our world' was founded by imitating the paradigmatic work of the gods, the cosmogony, so the enemies who attack it are assimilated to the enemies of the gods, the demons, and especially to the arch-demon, the primordial dragon conquered by the gods at the beginning of time. An attack on 'our world' is equivalent to an act of revenge by the mythical dragon, who rebels against the work of the gods, the cosmos, and struggles to annihilate it. 'Our' enemies belong to the powers of chaos. Any destruction of a city is equivalent to a retrogression to chaos. Any victory over the attackers reiterates the paradigmatic victory of the gods over the dragon (that is, over chaos). (Eliade 1959, 47-48)

Furthermore, "In Europe, during the Middle Ages, the walls of cities were ritually conse

crated as a defense against the devil, sickness and death. In the last analysis the result of

attacks, whether demonic or military, is always the same—ruin, disintegration, death"

(Eliade 1959, 49).

The theme of the machine also arises in Eliade's analysis, as it does from the oppo

site perspective of Socialist Realism (Clark 1000), but here it is negative:

Let us consider the basic difference observable between these two types of behavior—sacred and profane—in respect to the human habitation. There is no need to dwell on the value and function of the habitation in industrial societies; they are well known. According to the formula of a famous contemporary architect, Le Corbusier, the house is "a machine to live in." Hence it takes its place among countless machines mass-produced

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in industrial societies. The ideal house of the modern world must first of all be functional; that is, it must allow men to work and to rest in order that they may work. You can change your "machine to live in" as often as you change your bicycle, your refrigerator, your automobile. You can also change cities or provinces, without encountering any difficulties...

It does not lie within our province to write the history of the gradual desacralization of the human dwelling. The process is an integral part of the gigantic transformation of the world undertaken by the industrial societies, a transformation made possible by the desacralization of the cosmos accomplished by scientific thought and above all by the sensational discoveries of physics and chemistry.

Whatever the structure of a traditional society—be it a society of hunters, herdsmen, or cultivators, or already at the stage of an urban civilization—the habitation always undergoes a process of sanctification, because it constitutes an imago mundi and the world is a divine creation. (Eliade 1959, 50-51)

The significance of the traditional society as the forebear of the modern industrialized

society should not be underestimated. Cultures are founded on paradigms that predate

industrialization. The Soviet regime, in desiring to supplant those paradigms, only

copied them. Just as, instead of destroying the hagiography Socialist Realism reproduced

it, so the regime reproduced sacred spaces, though in their mirror-image forms: spaces of

hyper-profanization. It is significant for my purposes that mirror-image forms are tradi

tionally demonic traits.

In a way, materialist space suffers from a lack of a mirror image. The earthly

Jerusalem was always mirrored in the Christian tradition by the heavenly Jerusalem; the

Church Militant by the Church Triumphant. Although mirror images are demonic, they

are also sacred. In my argument, there is no designation between the demonic and the sa

cred; they are only two aspects of the same paradigm.

In the materialist space of the Soviet Union, there is no dual aspect. Earthly

Moscow, the Jerusalem of materialism, is without an ideal counterpart. The ideal

Moscow of perfect communism is a notion that belongs to an uncertain future. Sacred

space is always a mirror of the actual and the possible, while materialist space is only a to

ken of the possible. -51-


Materialist space is homogenous partly because it does not have an intended de

monic counterpart. Any demonic counterparts are unintended. A platonic perfect im

age, such as the heavenly Jerusalem, requires the demonic if for nothing else than for the

purpose of differentiation. Without the demonic, earthly Jerusalem would also be heav

enly Jerusalem. Furthermore, without the demonic heavenly Jerusalem would also not be

heavenly Jerusalem, as heavenly Jerusalem is built on faith, and there can be no faith

where there is not the possibility for doubt and despair. It is only the demonic that offers

the possibility for the divine.

1.2.3 Penitential Space

Both Dostoevsky and Bulgakov are poets of guilt. Both are burdened by their sins. Dos-

toevsky viewed his sin as briefly joining the radical intelligentsia. Bulgakov views his sin

as cowardice and conformism. That is why many spaces in the works of Dostoevsky and

Bulgakov can be seen as purgatorial—as spaces of repentance. However, in Dostoevsky's

paradigm regeneration is possible through suffering.25 In Bulgakov's circumstances, re

pentance would inevitably lead to death. Repentance followed by inevitable martyrdom

is beyond the reach of many people's capacities.

Within The Master and Margarita it becomes clear that Moscow becomes peni

tent individual space for Margarita, the Master and Ivan Bezdomny. One of the best-

known catchphrases from the novel is that "cowardice is the worst of sins." Some critics

assert that Bulgakov included this thought in the novel partly because he was uneasy

over his own complicity in the Soviet cultural system (Pevear 1997). If the novel is in

deed a projection of his sublimated thoughts and desires onto the reality in which he

lived (Milne 1977) then the prominent place accorded to penitence would be explained: Bulgakov, still pondering the problem of the master's guilt (and his own, for what he considered various compromises, including his work on a play

25' The Book of Job, Dostoevsky s favorite book of the Bible (Frank 1983), provides a paradigm for understanding the regeneration of human conscience.

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about Stalin's youth), went back to his notes and revisions from 1936, but lightened their severity with an enigmatic irony. This was to be the definitive resolution. Clearly, the master is not to be seen as a heroic martyr for art or a 'Christ-figure.' Bulgakov's gentle irony is a warning against the mistake, more common in our time than we might think, of equating artistic mastery with a sort of saintliness, or, in Kierkegaard's terms, of confusing the aesthetic with the ethical. (Pevear 1997)

Penance implies hierarchy and order. Thus, any space that includes within itself the recti

fication of errors must contain within itself two seemingly contradictory principles that

are synthesized into one unitary space: order and deviation from that order.

This process can be linked to several other theoretical principles in this thesis.

Firstly, it is evocative of pilgrimage as affliction ritual (Turner 1968; Turner 1969; Turner

1974b; Turner 1978; Turner and Turner 1978). Secondly, penance is a rite of re-incorpora

tion, which necessarily takes place after contact with liminality (van Gennep i960). Fi

nally, contradictory space is a central principle of Lefebvre's conception of spatial

production (Lefebvre 1991), in which contradictory space is a space of freedom from cap

italist—and therefore materialist—exploitation. Of course, Lefebvre does not usemate-

rialist in the sense of non-religious, as I do here. However, in formulating his argument in

such a way to denounce the dependency of the worker on the material control of the

bourgeoise, we are arriving at approximately the same principle. Thus, the penance of the

the central human characters of The Master andMargarita: Margarita, the Master, Ivan

Bezdomny, Afranius and, of course, Pontius Pilate, is a defining concept of the novel.

It is a commonplace observation that, when Ivan Bezdomny jumps into the

Moscow River during his pursuit of Woland, he is performing a sort of self-baptism,

without overtly acknowledging it as such. Afterwards, he goes to the Griboedov, the

sanctuary of materialist, Soviet literature, with an icon pinned to his shirt and with a

wedding candle in his arms.26 The act of baptism is tied to penance in Christian doctrine:

The soul is often referred to as "the bride of Christ."

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Of [the] sacraments, the most important (despite the ambiguity of its having been instituted not by Christ, but already in the Old Testament or perhaps by John the Baptist) was probably penance.... Penance was instituted as a means of grace because those who had received the forgiveness of sins through baptism went on to sin again and needed "a second refuge after this shipwreck" to reconcile them to the church, from which they were alienated by their transgression. It was defined as consisting of a vow to avoid sin, an act of confession, and an act of satisfaction. The seven steps of penance were, as enumerated by Bernard of Clairvaux and his disciple Nicholas: "the knowledge of oneself; repentance; sorrow; oral confession; mortification of the flesh; correction [or satisfaction] by a work; perseverance." (Pelikan 1978, 210)

Ivan Bezdomny's actions perfectly conform to Bernard of Clairvaux's formulation of

what is required from the penitent individual.27 Firstly, Ivan Bezdomny's sins are com

mitted after baptism, as before baptism he was unknowingly a complicit member of the

Soviet hegemonic apparatus, whereas after his baptism and conversation with the Master

in Doctor Stravinsky's clinic, he was knowingly complicit in the Soviet hegemonic appa

ratus as a professor of history, whose function would be to reaffirm Soviet control over

intellectual space.

The only individuals in The Master and Margarita who seem to undergo true

penance are Nikanor Bosoi, who proclaims in the interrogation room of theNKVD that

God sees everything, and Pontius Pilate. Other characters, such the master, Ivan Bez-

domny, &{c., are given the opportunity to repent, and some begin, but do not continue

and do not successfully perform contrition. Ivan Bezdomny begins to actively serve the

system that he was warned against—one does not become a professor of history in

Moscow in the 1930s if one does not actively contribute to the system's intellectual

hegemony. History in particular was considered the field of preparation for entry into

the Communist elite, because of the marxist system's emphasis on historical conscious

ness. In a sense, The Master and Margarita is about a warning that went unheard and

27' Pelikan cites: Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons on Diverse Topics, 40. In: Leclerq, Jean and Rochais, Henri, eds. SanctiBernardi Opera, Rome, 1957.

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failed to be acted upon. This is one further instance of Bulgakov's subversion of Ro

manticism, through a banal, un-Romantic passive acquiescence to a system of repression.

1.3 Underground

Fyodor Dostoevsky's novel Notes from Underground (1864) represents space without

penance for the manifold sins against self, God and other human beings that a person

inevitably commits in the course of life. The novel is the first-person narration of the life

of a bureaucrat who has taken early retirement, known only astbe Underground Man,

who lives in a space he refers to as underground, a metaphorical space of seclusion from

the world. The narrator does not actually live underground—his apartment is above

ground. The first part of the novel is lengthy monologue expounding the narrator's

worldview and reactions to the world around him. The second part of the novel is the

narration of how the Underground Man went to a party given by former schoolmates

whom he despises. After the party he goes with his former schoolmates to a brothel,

makes the acquaintance a prostitute, Liza, with whom he cultivates a relationship, and

then humiliates. At the end of the novel he returns to his metaphorical underground

space and lapses into incoherency.

One of the particular elements of irony inNotesfrom Underground is the reversal

of a Romantic trope. In many Romantic novels in Russia, the trope of'saving a fallen

woman' is widespread.28 In Dostoevsky's novel, the prostitute is in a position to 'save' the

retired government official by demonstrating a sense of moral clarity that is a counter-

28' Joseph Frank states: "The redemption of a prostitute theme, taken over by the Russians in the 1840s from French Social Romantics like Eugene Sue, George Sand, and Victor Hugo, and continued up through Tolstoy's Resurrection (1899), had indeed become a commonplace by the 1860s. It figures as a minor episode in What Is To Be Done?, where one of the heroes salvages a fallen woman from a life of debauchery, lives with her for a time, and turns her into a model member of Vera Pavlovna's cooperative until she dies of tuberculosis. The climactic episode in the second part of Notesfrom Underground—the encounter between the underground man and the prostitute Liza—is an ironic parody and reversal of this Social Romantic cliche" (Frank 1986,333).

- 5 5 -


point to the moral depravity of the Underground Man. In further irony, the Under

ground Man had made a show of'saving' Liza.

Dostoevsky's "underground" is a multi-faceted space, the meaning of which is not

fixed, but remains open to interpretation and multi-valenced reading. It is simultaneous

ly a space of resistance against hegemony as well as a space of nihilism. It is difficult to as

sign a stable evaluation to underground because its values are shifting due to their lack of

definition—underground is against everything that everybody is for. It is true that the

Underground Man vehemently opposes a structure known as the crystal edifice, as does

Dostoevsky himself. However, that does not mean that he is a positive hero. Rather, this

means that the Underground Man represents the right ends via the wrong means.

Dostoevsky dismissed Chernyshevsky's vision as untenable, as human beings can

not be reduced to rational subjects, and because such a vision excludes the most impor

tant factor in human life: God (Frank 1995). To counter such a misguided theory, Dosto

evsky published Notes from Underground in 1864, one year after What Is To Be Done?

The Underground Man, though not offering any positive solution, does raise arguments

against the 'CrystalEdifice'that likely represent Dostoevsky's own positions in negation

of an abstract rationality divorced from faith.29 The ideal ofreason tempered by faith is

cast aside in the Crystal Palace. As we see in The Brothers Karamazov, faith cannot be

tempered by reason, even though reason can and should be tempered by faith. However,

that does not mean that reason can be disregarded.

In Bulgakov's works, personal space is a pervasive issue. Personal space is, by na

ture, defined by divisions. The Underground Man's evocation of xh.z superfluous man

trope and his placement of himself within that trope is a statement of the necessity of

finding a third way, which could be carried over into the creation of third space.

29' Dostoevsky himself stated that the censor demanded that he cut out the section in which he actually proposed the solution.

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My understanding of this third way and third space is a position between the ra

tional egoism of Chernyshevsky and the nihilism of the Underground Man. Nikolai

Chernyshevsky (1828-1889), one of the preeminent materialist thinkers of the nine

teenth century in Russia, advocated the overthrow of the Czarist government. Dosto-

evsky is trying, in Notes from Underground, to create an implicit third space, which is not

explicitly denoted. Bulgakov will later adopt this tactic when setting the moral/aesthetic

orientation of The Master and Margarita. Pevear's statement that Bulgakov's inclusion of

the dialogue in which the Master will only be allowed to listen to the Romantics but has

not deserved to hear the singing of the Liturgy is based on a Kierkegaardian view of aes

thetics and morality implies such an implicit quality, created when Bulgakov removes

this very important dialogue from later drafts of his novel [See page 32 for the analysis of

the denial of the Liturgy and the implications for The Master and Margarita].

Nikolai Chernyshevsky wrote a 'novel,' published in 1863, entitled What Is To Be

Done, which outlines a Utopian plan for the rational organization of human society

based on rational egoism. Chernyshevsky s concept ofrational egoism is a concept that

states that the personal goals of the individual, if the individual best understands his or

her best interests, will always correspond with the best interests of the group (Frank

I995)-

The Crystal Palace was an edifice of scientific progress constructed in the nine

teenth century in London for the world fair. It was made primarily of aluminum and

glass, and showcased the latest technological advancements, stylizing itself as an outpost

of 'progress.'lt was destroyed by fire in the twentieth century.

Dostoevsky visited the Crystal Palace during a trip to London (Frank 1995) refer

ring to "Western Europe, a symbol of which the Crystal Palace would become, as a "land

of holy wonders." He was not the only Russian journalist upon whom the Crystal Palace

would make a powerful impression. Nikolai Chernyshevsky also employed the Crystal

Palace as a central image in his novel What is To Be Done.

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Dostoevsky's Underground Man, holds up the Crystal Palace as an image of tech

nical progress as well as moral progress based on rationality, not on God. Just as Cherny-

shevsky did one year previously, so Dostoevsky uses the Crystal Palace as a metaphor of

society founded on rational principles:

And then...new economic relations will follow, ready-made and also calculated with mathematic precision, so that all possible questions will disappear in a single instant, since they will all have been provided with answers. And then the Crystal Palace will arise. Then.... Well, in short, halcyon days will arrive for mankind. Of course, it is impossible to guarantee (and this, now, is myself speaking) that life will not become, let us say, dreadfully boring (for what's the point of doing anything if all is set and classified according to graphs and tables?); on the other hand, though, everything will be extremely reasonable... (Dostoevsky 1992,

The Crystal Palace is offered as one extreme, illustrated in the passage above. The passage

below illustrates the other extreme—nihilism. In The Brothers Karamazov, when the

devil appears to Ivan Karamazov, the devil claims that he—the devil—is a necessity in

creation because, without him, things would not happen [see section 4.3 Ivan

Karamazov's Room on page 168].

One's own free, untrammeled desires, one's own whim, no matter how extravagant, one's own fancy, be it wrought up at times to the point of madness—all of this is precisely that most advantageous of advantages which is omitted, which fits into no classification, and which is constantly knocking all systems and theories to hell. And where did our sages get the idea that a man must have normal, virtuous desires? What made them imagine that man must necessarily wish what is sensible and advantageous? What man needs is only his own independent wishing, whatever that may cost and wherever it may lead. And the devil knows what that wishing ....(14) (Dostoevsky 1992, 2.7-2.9)

The Underground Man speaks out against social theories. Although the Underground

Man should not be identified with Dostoevsky, Dostoevsky's character here serves as an

important expositor of the doctrine of free will. If a human being does not have the free

dom to be irrational, then rationality has no significance. Furthermore, the underground

vocalizes the impossibility of social organization on rationalist theories because of the

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fact of the human need for free will. There can be no merit if there is no effort. This

theme is continued in the next passage the refers explicitly to the Crystal Palace, which is

turned into a representation of materialist ideology in the equation of the purpose of

such an ideology with the satisfaction of basic physical needs:

You see, if there should be a chicken coop instead of your palace, and it begins to rain, I may crawl into this chicken coop to avoid getting wet; yet I will not imagine that this chicken coop is a palace out of gratitude, because it gave me shelter from the rain. You are laughing, you even say that in such a case a chicken coop and a mansion are the same. Surely—I answer you—if the sole purpose of living is to keep from getting wet. (Dostoevsky 1992, 39)

The quotation above rejects the notion that material needs are primary in the evaluation

of needs and goals of human existence. However, it is ironic that Bulgakov will adopt

this position in the future, but will alter it so that some material conditions are, in fact, of

primary importance.

But what is to be done if I have taken it into my head that this is not the only purpose in life, and that, if you're to live at all, it's best to live in a mansion? This is my wish, my desire. You can scrape it out of me only if you alter my desires. Well, then, alter them, tempt me with something else, give me another ideal. But until then I will not take a chicken coop to be a palace. Let's even suppose that the Crystal Palace is a figment of the imagination, that the laws of nature preclude it, that I've invented it merely out of my own stupidity, as a result of certain antiquated, irrational habits of our generation. Yet what do I care if it's precluded? What difference does it make, if it exists while my desires exist?

Are you laughing again? Laugh if you wish; I will accept all ridicule, and yet I will not say I'm full when I am hungry. I still know that I will not reconcile myself to a compromise, to an endlessly recurring zero, simply because it exists according to the laws of nature, and exists inreali-ty. I will not accept as the crown of my aspirations a solidly built house with apartments for the poor, leased for a thousand years.... Destroy my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will follow you.(15) (Dostoevsky 1992, 40)

Dostoevsky introduces opposites which are markers of contradictory space. The Under

ground Man is a perfect example of contradiction: "...the antithesis of the normal man,

that is, a man of heightened consciousness who has, surely, emerged not from the lap of

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nature but from a retort (this is almost mystical, gentlemen, but I suspect that too), this

retort-man often gives up so completely in the face of his antithesis that he honestly feels

himself, with all his heightened consciousness, to be a mouse, not a man" (Dostoevsky

1992,10).

Dostoevsky is writing from his position that is part of the phenomenon in Russ

ian literature known as the superfluous man, a typological character that is usually intelli

gent and socially well-placed, but unable to leverage that intelligence and position into

any positive action due to the restrictions set in place by the Czarist government. The

earliest example is the character Chatsky, from Alexander Griboedov's Woe from Wit

[Tope omyua], published in 1825. The eponym of the play is a gifted young man who at

tempts to apply himself constructively in post-Napoleonic Russia, but is blocked at every

turn by a bureaucratic system and the lethargy and complacency embodied therein.

Eventually, in frustration, Chatsky leaves the country to find a field in which he can ap

ply himself to the fullest extent, to be all that he can be, to fully realize himself.

The line of superfluous men continues throughout Russian literature, appearing

only sporadically in the Soviet period. In Socialist Realism superfluous men had to be

liquidated as a class so that there would be no dead wood to obstruct the building of

communism. Except that the idealistic vision of communism was never built, and so there

was, in a reality, a new class of superfluous people in the Soviet Union, a phenomenon

which crept quietly into 'underground' literature.

The figures in nineteenth century journalism pursued their own agendas in an at

tempt to positively influence society, thus eschewing the superfluous man facade of Byro-

nistic/Lermontovian langor in their actual activities. The reason they maintained such a

trope in literature is possibly that the literati felt that political changes should be more

drastic. They seem to loose faith of evolution in favor of revolution.

Other activists also felt that the attitude of the people being governed towards

the system and agents of governance should be removed from the realm of journalistic

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debate and placed into the sphere of action. Such an attitude led to acts of violence in the

name of a forthcoming revolution, which as yet was ill-defined. The revolutionary move

ment prompted Dostoevsky to write The Devils, published in 1872, as a response to the

men of action that the Underground Man seems to describe in Notes from Underground.

Thus, Dostoevsky s space of underground is of the utmost importance for under

standing the relation of the individual to the group. Does it evolve from a negative space

of nihilism to a positive space of freedom, both within Dostoevsky s oeuvre and in trans

mission from Dostoevsky to Bulgakov? Or, does it consistently maintain negative con

notations, as a space in which meaning is always muted? Is it possible to interpret under

ground spaces as something in between these definitions ?

The reason for the Master's banishment from 'ligbt'is his cowardice. This cow

ardice stems from his rejection of his novel when Woland offers it anew to him. Perhaps

it is the same reproach. Both the Master and the Underground Man seek shelter in an

underground space because of fear. In reference to the above quotation about "the wall"

in Notes from Underground, a trend begins in which the individual hides in a discrete

space.

Later in Notes from Underground, the reader comes across a space that, in the

view of its designers, is meant to remove walls—literally and figuratively. It is meant to be

a space of enlightenment—the walls having been made transparent so that light may en

ter uninhibited—and performs a similar function to another structure that is a product

of the enlightenment: the panopticon.

1.4 Father Zosima's Cell

Perhaps the best positive example of an underground-esque space, a positive version of

the Underground Man's basement, is Father Zosima's cell. The first time the reader is in

troduced to this space in chapter two of book one: "The Old Buffoon," when Father

Zosima is asked to arbitrate between the elder Karamazov and Dmitry Fyodorovich.

Along with the claimants in the case is a young man named Miiisov, who represents the

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ideas of the political and philosophical progressives who favored re-forming Russia along

secular, Enlightenment ideals. This figure can be considered to be a representation of the

intellectual trends with which Dostoevsky polemicized and for which he attempted to

introduce an alternative in Russian socio-political culture.

The reader, along with the visitors, is gradually led to Father Zosima's cell from

the gates of the monastery. From the beginning, Dostoevsky treats Miiisov with irony: Miiisov looked absent-mindedly at the tombstones round the church, and was on the point of saying that the dead buried here must have paid a pretty penny for the right of lying in this "holy place," but refrained. His liberal irony was rapidly changing almost into anger.

"Who the devil is there to ask in this imbecile place? We must find out, for time is passing," he observed suddenly, as though speaking to himself. (Dostoevsky 1976, 28)

In the first paragraph of the above quotation, space is equated with money and questions

of the nature of existence. Miiisov is attempting to project his ironic facade onto the

monastery and the system it represents. The Church, particularly the Orthodox Church,

is based on the primacy of the spiritual over the material. Miiisov's comment inverts this

hierarchy. The inversion of hierarchy is a traditionally demonic trait. Miiisov's entire out

look in the first paragraph cited above is one of ironic inversion. He states that those

who are buried in the monastery must have paid to be buried in the "holy ground,"

which would conceivably be consistent with some monastic practices similar to the sale

of indulgences in the Western Church. However, later the narrator explicitly contradicts

such a system: "...all without exception had shown the profoundest reverence and delica

cy, for here there was no question of money, but only on the one side love and kindness,

and on the other penitence and eager desire to decide some difficult spiritual problem or

crisis" (Dostoevsky 1976, 32). Although the preceding statement applies to Father Zosi

ma's cell, not the monastery as a whole, the negation of financial interest directly engages

Miiisov's statement on the preceding pages. The dialogical nature of the two opposing

statements constructs an opposition between the two spaces: the monastery as a whole

and Father Zosima's cell. In the monastery, it is possible, though not proven, that money

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could procure entry to this space. In Father Zosima's cciiit is not possible that money

could play any role in securing entry or attention. Apossible opposition is constructed.

Father Zosima's cell is not only isolated from the world in general, but also from the

monastery in which it is located.

The final statement of that paragraph, "His liberal irony was rapidly changing

almost into anger" (Dostoevsky 1976, 2.8), suggests, however, that Miiisov's statement is

unreliable at least. Father Zosima's cell appears as follows:

Father Zosima sat down on a very old-fashioned mahogany sofa, covered with leather, and made his visitors sit down in a row along the opposite wall on four mahogany chairs, covered with shabby black leather. The monks sat, one at the door and the other at the window. The divinity student, the novice, and Alyosha remained standing. The cell was not very large and had a faded look. It contained nothing but the most necessary furniture, of coarse and poor quality. There were two pots of flowers in the window, and many holy pictures in the corner. Before one huge, very ancient icon of the Virgin a lamp was burning. Near it were two other holy pictures in shining settings, and, next [to—sic] them, carved cheru-bims, china eggs, a Catholic cross of ivory, with a Mater Dolorosa embracing it, and several foreign engravings from the great Italian artists of past centuries. Next to these costly and artistic engravings were several of the roughest Russian prints of saints, martyrs, prelates and so on, such as are sold for a few farthings at all the fairs. On the other walls were portraits of Russian bishops, past and present.

Miiisov took a cursory glance at all these "conventional" surroundings and bent an intent look upon the elder. (Dostoevsky 1976, 32)

This space may be considered the most sacred space within The Brothers Karamazov. It is

the abode of Dostoevsky s ideal of monastic saintliness. Being in this space calls forth

doubt or uneasiness in the minds of the progressive liberals. The progressive liberal,

Miiisov, states in reaction to being in this space:

30' A similar opposition between the effectiveness and ineffectiveness of money occurs in The Master and Margarita when Woland states that Frieda could not possibly have bribed Margarita for a favor.

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"Hitherto at least I have stood in the front ranks of all that is progressive in Europe, and here the new generation positively ignores us," he thought.'1 (Dostoevsky 1976, 51)

The above quotation clearly links Miiisovwith Stepan Trofimovich in The Devils. Dosto

evsky seems to continue his refutation of fashionable liberalism, incorporating the impe

tus of his earlier work into the summation of his ideological statement. Dostoevsky s ear

lier anti-nihilist novel and his final novel differ in their presentation of a positive

alternative to nihilism. In The Devils, no positive solution seems visible until Stepan

Trofimovich's conversion at the end. Father Zosima is a figure who is closer to Dosto

evsky's ideal protagonist: one who has sinned and endured suffering in the world and

who has turned to God for strength. The space of such a figure can provide a better un

derstanding of Dostoevsky s ideal because the protagonists space is a product of that

protagonist's ideological field, it is an artifact of the work of that protagonists hands. Alyosha helped Father Zosima to his bedroom and seated him on his bed. It was a little room furnished with the bare necessities. There was a narrow iron bedstead, with a strip of felt for a mattress. In the corner, under the icons, was a lectern with a cross and the Gospel lying on it. (Dostoevsky 1976, 67)

The statement that Father Zosima makes to Alyosha immediately following this descrip

tion of place itself begins with a spatial qualification:

"What is it? This is not your place for the time. I bless you for great service in the world. Yours will be a long pilgrimage.... You will have to bear all before you come back. There will be much to do. But I don't doubt of you, and so I send you forth. Christ is with you. Do not abandon Him and He will not abandon you. You will see great sorrow, and in that sorrow you will be happy. This is my last message to you: in sorrow seek happiness. Work, work unceasingly. (Dostoevsky 1976)

According to Father Zosima, the place identified as "here," whether his monastic cell or

the monastery in general, cannot yet be ascribed to Alyosha. It is necessary for Alyosha

to first engage in what Father Zosima terms pilgrimage in order fully enter into the space

of the monastic cell:

"This is what I think of you, you will go forth from these walls, but will live like a monk in the world..."(20) (Dostoevsky 1976, Z64)

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Father Zosima continues to instruct Alyosha in the main distinctions between materialism and the brand of idealism that is at the core of the religious spatial paradigm:

Look at the worldly and all who set themselves up above the people of God, has not God's image and His truth been distorted in them? They have science; but in science there is nothing but what is the object of sense. The spiritual world, the higher part of man's being is rejected altogether, dismissed with a sort of triumph, even with hatred. The world has proclaimed the reign of freedom, especially of late, but what do we see in this freedom of theirs? Nothing but slavery and self-destruction! For the world says:

"You have desires and so satisfy them, for you have the same rights as the most rich and powerful. Don't be afraid of satisfying them and even multiplying your desires. (Dostoevsky 1976, 292)

The secular world that Father Zosima describes is one in which freedom is precluded be

cause the ideological field that orients its system of valuation is one in which the highest

premium is placed on consumption, specifically consumption of material goods, and not

just of material goods, but of luxury goods which are superfluous to basic existence. The

consumption of luxury goods is not bad in and of itself. Rather, it is the ideology which

causes the individual to believe that happiness rests in the consumption of these goods,

and that the more an individual consumers, the happier that individual should be. Father

Zosima describes the spiritual world as different:

The monastic way is very different. Obedience, fasting and prayer are laughed at, yet only through them lies the way to real, true freedom. I cut off my superfluous and unnecessary desires, I subdue my proud and wanton will and chastise it with obedience, and with God's help I attain freedom of spirit and with it spiritual joy. Who is more capable of conceiving a great idea and serving it—the rich man in his isolation or the man who hasjreed himself from the tyranny of material things and habits? The monk is reproached for his solitude, "You have secluded yourself within the walls of the monastery for your salvation, and have forgotten the brotherly service of humanity!" But we shall see which will be most zealous in the cause of brotherly love. For it is not we, but they, who are in isolation, though they don't see that.... The same meek and humble ascetics will rise up and go out to work for the great cause.22 (Dostoevsky 1976, 2-93)

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The difference is made possible because the spiritual world is not self-evident. Faith is a

very powerful force in the world because of the quality of not being subject to any force

that it acknowledges subservience to, except for its source. In the Christian paradigm

examined here, that source is God. Father Zosima's words have a spatial representation

on the ideological level: crossroads.

Crossroads are by definition a highly liminal space, and highly demonic. Traditio

nally, the devil often appears to travellers on crossroads. The figure of the crossroads is in

troduced as a metaphor of choice between spiritual and material values:

It was not more than half a mile from the town to the monastery. Alyosha walked quickly along the road, at that hour deserted. It was almost night, and too dark to see anything clearly thirty paces ahead. There was a crossroad halfway. A figure came into sight under a solitary willow at the crossroad. As soon as Alyosha reached the crossroad the figure moved out and rushed at him shouting savagely:

"Your money or your life!"(23) (Dostoevsky 1976,140)

The demand that one choose between "money" and "life" is highly evocative of Christian

values in opposition to materialism. Not only is this theme repeated within The Brothers

Karamazov, in which several characters have to weigh money and life, but also in The

Master and Margarita, specifically during the chapter four, "The Chase," in which Ivan

Bezdomny chases Woland and his suite from Patriarch's Ponds to the Moscow river.

There, Ivan Bezdomny crosses several series of physical crossroads. Simultaneously, the

scene is a paradoxical one in which the adherent of materialist dogma chases a spiritual

being. The metaphor of the crossroads and the path to be followed—in pursuit of either

one set of values or another—is an overarching metaphor that is inherently connected to

a concrete spatial feature. The perceived presence of the devil at such junctures is signifi

cant in illuminating the devil's function as a kind of signpost of the danger of false values

and the peril of turning away from God.

The meeting at the crossroads is the embodiment of choice based upon compet

ing valuational systems: material or spiritual. The term life is not used to refer to physical

life which, if lost, would preclude enjoyment of any material, but rather refers tospiritual

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life in the Christian sense. Dimitry goes on to talk with Alyosha about a feeling of de

spair, which will later be echoed by Ivan Karamazov at the Metropolis [see section 4.4

The Metropolis on page 200]. This despair in both brothers is caused by an over-reliance

on the material world. Here, in Dimitry s case, it is caused by desire for money. In Ivan

Karamazov's case it is caused by intellectual dissatisfaction.

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Chapter Two: The History of Patriarch's Ponds

# $

In this chapter I will demonstrate how physical space is altered commensurate with ideo

logical alteration and counter-alteration. The space I have chosen for this example is Pa

triarch s Ponds—the first space into which the reader enters in The Master and Margari

ta. The place is unique for several other reasons. It contains a dual-layered grid of pre-

Soviet and Soviet significance. In the early-modern period, Patriarch's Ponds were eccle

siastical land. In Soviet times, that land was altered into socialist space.

Providing a graphic representation of Moscow in the 1930s, I will compare cer

tain aspects of that place with previous spatial layers. This exercise will provide a visual

representation of an ideological process. The same phenomenon of appropriation of

space is manifested both physically and ideologically. As space is physically altered, the

meaning that space represents is also transformed. However, the space's original signifi

cance lies below the surface in a buried layer. It is this buried layer that Bulgakov exca

vates and appropriates, re-shaping it in order to create contradictory space.

In this chapter I will describe how Patriarch's Ponds originates as liminal space.

Over time it became incorporated into surrounding space by means of spatial evolution.

Then, I will describe how the Soviet government alters that space in order to fortify the

government's power. Finally, I will describe how Bulgakov excavates the pervious liminal

features of Patriarchs Ponds in order to evoke its demonic associations, thereby subvert

ing an overtly conventional materialist space from within.

In The Master and Margarita, Patriarch's Ponds are a space in which the spiritual

is juxtaposed against the materialist. Although Dostoevsky is not explicitly alluded to in

this chapter, the thematic elements resonate extremely strongly with Dostoevsky s work,

in the form of the debate between faith and reason, of God and the devil:

Berlioz and Bezdomny respond to the devil's prompting in a confident and presumptuous manner. It is evident that, while Ivan Karamazov still shows a small degree of humility as he searches for the answers to the eternal questions, Bulgakov's protagonists throw all caution to the wind and offer their own foolhardy solutions readily and without a moment's hesi-

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CHAPTER TWO: THE HISTORY OF PATRIARCH'S PONDS • PETER G. LARSON

tation. These heroes' cock-sure approach to topics which are well beyond human competence inevitably leads to misfortune, and even tragedy. In her essay on "The God-building Heresy as a Subtext of High Stalinist Culture,' Clark points out that 'In the thirties the iconic attribute of all official heroes as "daring" and that "daring" (and, especially, "daring" to discount all established norms and constraints) is a central concept in Nietzscheanism.' [Pittman quotes from: Clark 2000,152] Intellectual 'daring' is an essential part of both Ivan Karamazov's, and Berlioz' and Bezdomny's iconoclastic approach to religion and God, but while the boldness of Dostoyevsky's atheist might be defined as a forthright and angry reaction to the 'established norms,' the behaviour of Bulgakovs pseudo-intellectuals amounts to their complete dismissal. Bulgakov's protagonists sincerely believe that they have attained a higher awareness of human existence as they have rejected God and adopted atheism. They see themselves as having scaled the Nietzschean heights, from which they are abruptly brought down by the devil. The psychological consequences of this 'fall,' which marks these characters' loss of their Marxist-Leninist 'innocence' (even if only for a limited period of time in Ivan Bezdomny's case), are revealed through the devil's agency in a manner which parallels closely Dostoyevsky's exposition of Ivan Karamazov's schismatic mentality. (Pittman 1991, 45-46)

Patriarch's Ponds is spatial representation of the replacement of faith by reason—it is the

site of several destroyed churches, and is actually a liminal space that official power has

attempted to make into a central space.

The genesis of Patriarch's Ponds may lie at the heart of an explanation of its sig

nificance as a demonic space in The Master and Margarita. The Patriarch's Ponds region

takes its name from the fact that the land was zsloboda—defined by the Oxford Concise

Russian Dictionary as "a settlement exempt from state obligations"—founded by Patriarch

Hermogenes [Germogen] in 1610. The area at that time was also known as 'Goat Swamp'

[Ko3be 6OAOTO] because of the large number of wild goats living there. In many ways Pa

triarch's Ponds are a classic liminal space. Firstly, there is their origin as a swamp. Inhos

pitable territory, in addition to being outside of civilized, cultivated land, was considered

the abode of demons. Secondly, Patriarch's Ponds is directly adjacent to the Great Gar

den Ring, which occupies the exact position of medieval Moscow's outer walls. Thus,

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while Woland appears in the heart of modern Moscow, he is on the edge of medieval

Moscow. This duality of position is central to Bulgakov's spatial practice. The Master and

Margarita is a narrative that is constructed on many levels, within a multi-leveled space.

This trait is evident from the very beginning. On one level Patriarch's Ponds is just a

place, a park like many others in Moscow. However, on another level, it is a liminal and

ecclesiastical space, one uniquely suited to the appearance of the devil, though its special

suitability to demonic manifestation is not immediately apparent, but hidden. Bulgakov

makes use of many hidden spaces throughout his work.

The motif of Patriarch's Ponds is one that occurs throughout the entire novel, not

confined to the opening passages. However, the first sentence of the novel does refer to

the place: "At the hour of the hot spring sunset two citizens appeared at Patriarch's

Ponds"(24) (Bulgakov 1006,3). Reference to Patriarchs Ponds at junctures of great im

port—searching and questioning—is a precedent that is continued throughout the nov

el. The arrival of the two gentlemen—the editor Mikhail Berlioz and the poet Ivan Bez-

domny—is not connected with a contiguous space, but rather is cut off and depicted as

an event of its own: it is not stated that they walked from somewhere to Patriarch's

Ponds, rather, on the level of narration, they simply "appeared." Furthermore, they 'hap

pen to be' in the shade of a nearby tree upon entering the area of Patriarch's Ponds. Their

entrance is clearly an abrupt break from one space into another, not a gentle transition.

In the fourth paragraph, Bulgakov makes the chronotope explicit: "At that hour

when it seemed no longer possible to breathe, when the sun, having scorched Moscow,

was collapsing in a dry haze somewhere beyond Sadovoye Ring, no one came under the

lindens, no one sat on a bench, the walk was empty (Bulgakov 2006). The time of

their appearance is very specific—it is the Wednesday of Holy Week before Easter. The

novel ends in the evening of Holy Saturday. However, in the beginning, when they "ap

pear" at Patriarch's Ponds, the time is presented in a vague, mythologized way: "At the

hour of the hot spring sunset (Bulgakov 2006, 3). The space itself is radically altered.

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CHAPTER T W O : THE HISTORY OF PATRIARCH'S PONDS • PETER G. LARSON

Space cannot be defined beyond Sadovoe koltso. The sun sets "somewhere beyond." The

space into which the reader has entered is closed, empty, constrained, subject to different

rules than exterior space. As the poet and the editor proceed further into the space of Pa

triarch's Ponds, they become further enmeshed in its diabolic ramifications:

Berlioz's high tenor rang out in the deserted walk, as Mikhail Alexan-

drovich went deeper into the maze, which only a highly educated man

can go into without risking a broken neck, the poet learned more and

more interesting and useful things about the Egyptian Osiris, a benevo

lent God and the son of Heaven and Earth, and about the Phoenician god

Tammuz, and about Marduk, and even about a lesser known, terrible god,

Vitzliputzli, once greatly venerated by the Aztecs in Mexico.'27 (Bulgakov

2006 , 7)

The two men are symbolically walking farther into demonic territory and, in doing so,

Berlioz becomes a negative counterpart of John the Baptist. Berlioz, as a representative of

the literary vanguard of communism, preaches an ideology of non-being to the

proletariat.

Berlioz proceeds further into the space of Patriarch's Ponds on the physical level

and, on the linguistic level, proceeds further into his dense exposition of his anti-Christ

ian polemic. The term de6pu [wilds] has the following definitions according to the

Oxford Russian-English Dictionary:

1. Jungle; thickets. 2. thewilds.(28)

3. (fig.) maze, labyrinth. 4. [space in which it is possible] to get bogged down in.

The significance of this phrase goes beyond a mere expression. The latter three meanings

of the phrase are of essential importance to understanding the unity otlhe Master and

Margarita through the use of space. The phrase is a multivalent signifier, the usage of

which corresponds to the medieval paradigm of meaning produced by symbolism. This

usage reflects Bulgakov's multidimensional spatial practice.

Firstly, stating that Berlioz is moving 'into the wilds' is significant for several rea

sons. Firstly, wild places are defined as such because they are resistant to authority and

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are not subsumed by rules of logical organization. Additionally, wild spaces are associat

ed with ordeal, with testing and acquiring self-knowledge and the realm of a possibly in

imical "Other."

The second meaning of relevance is that of maze/labyrinth. There is a distinction

in meaning between maze and labyrinth. A maze is like a puzzle in which a person who

has entered must attempt to find their way out. A labyrinth, on the other hand, in the

Middle Ages was a metaphor for seeking God and spiritual enlightenment. The labyrinth

is not filled with dead ends and deceptive paths, but is rather one winding path towards

the center, which represents God at the center of the universe. In the case of Patriarch's

Ponds, which function as a space of recognition, the space is a labyrinth for Ivan Bez-

domny. However, for Berlioz, it is a maze—very much a dead end.

Finally, there is the meaning to get bogged down in. The English equivalent is

very well suited to the interpretation of this level of meaning, though the double

meaning is apparent even without it. In the sixteenth century, the area of Patriarch's

Ponds was, literally, a bog: Goat Swamp [Ko3he 6OAOTO]. This identifies it as a historical

ly liminal space, the divisions of which are obscured by history. Yet, for Bulgakov and his

characters, those divisions are still very much relevant. That is why Bulgakov paid special

attention to Patriarch's Ponds—he was drawing attention to the archaic symbolism be

low the surface of Soviet reality, deep in the historical memory of the city, unreachable

by the temporal ruling powers. That meaning is preserved in the popular saying "Foma

hurried, and made people laugh—he got stuck in Patriarch's Ponds'<30) This space is a

metaphorical space for the entire Soviet Union. The Soviets, through their five-year

plans, attempted to modernize the country, yet they could not remove its past or change

the people according to their plans. Patriarch's Ponds represent a past that is filled with

religious belief, regarded from the Soviet point of view as a swamp of ignorance, that the

people remained bogged down in. This line of reasoning is the exact opposite for Ivan

Bezdomny. As the two literati proceed deeper into the region of Patriarch's Ponds, they

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are, in contrast to their parallel path on the physical plane, on a diametrically divergent

path on the metaphorical plane. Berlioz is proceeding into the 'wilds' where he will meet

his death, while at the same time attempting, through his atheistic discourse, to lead Ivan

Bezdomny into the 'wilds' of disbelief. Rather than meet destruction in this space, as

does Berlioz, Bezdomny is reborn.

Berlioz can sense his impending doom, even if he cannot articulate that feeling.

Even before the appearance of the demonic forces at Patriarch's Ponds, Berlioz is imbued

with an acute fear of the place:

Here the second oddity occurred, touching Berlioz alone. He suddenly stopped hiccuping, his heart gave a thump and dropped away somewhere for an instant, then came back, but with a blunt needle lodged in it. Besides that, Berlioz was gripped by fear, groundless, yet so strong that he wanted to flee the ponds at once without looking back. (Bulgakov 2006 , 4)

The first element of importance is the fact that the narrator specifically marks a place,

not a time as the beginning point of Berlioz's fear. The space of Patriarch's Ponds is fur

ther demarcated by the fact that it is completely deserted except for Berlioz, Ivan Bez

domny and the devil: "And just at the moment when Mikhail Alexandrovich was telling

the poet how the Aztecs used to fashion figurines of Vitzliputzli out of dough—the first

man appeared on the walk"<32) (Bulgakov 2006, 7). Ironically, it is not a person who has

appeared, but rather a supernatural being.

Woland—the devil and the supernatural being in question—is also aware of the

significance of Patriarchs Ponds, as his reaction indicates:

And the foreigner gazed around at the tall buildings that rectangularly framed the pond, making it obvious that he was seeing the place for the first time and that it interested him. He rested his glance on the upper floors, where the glass dazzlingly reflected the broken-up sun which was for ever departing from Mikhail Alexandrovich, then shifted it lower down to where the windows were beginning to darken before evening../33' (Bulgakov 2006, 8)

Thus, the representatives of both ideological positions are aware—consciously or uncon

sciously—of the significance of the space that they are entering. Berlioz exposes fear, the

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standard reaction of a representative of the established hierarchy when entering a liminal

zone. Woland, the permanent inhabitant of the liminal zone and the very sign of liminal-

ity, sense the opportunity to perform his function of testing and of punishing the

wicked. Berlioz is wicked because he slavishly adheres to the communist party line and

puts his own self-interest above morality.

Woland, as stated above, is a permanently liminal being, a quintessential traveler,

drawing upon one line of demonic convention in which the devil is identified with trav

eling, with traversing unfamiliar spaces:

'Allow me to thank you with all my heart!' 'What are you thanking him for?' Homeless inquired, blinking. 'For some very important information, which is of great interest to

me as a traveller,' the outlandish fellow explained... The important information apparently had indeed produced a

strong impression on the traveller, because he passed his frightened glance over the buildings, as if afraid of seeing an atheist in every window. (Bulgakov 1006,10-n)

Woland pays special attention to the windows of the surrounding houses, emphasizing

their removal from Patriarch's Ponds. Even though the windows overlook the space, they

are radically separate from it. This separation is mirrored in the fact of the two layers of

space [see section 2.2 Dual-Layered Space on page 85]. Patriarch's ponds is consistently

delineated from the surrounding space. It is metaphorically transformed into a desert: Azazello in the finale assumes his true form of 'the demon of the waterless desert, the demon-murderer'... the word 'desert,' however, recalls Margarita's exclamation to the master: 'You unfortunate man, how little faith you have... Look at your eyes! There is a desert in them"... On this basis Azazello can be interpreted as a spiritual emanation of yet another aspect of the master—that aspect which the master had himself embodied in the figure of Pilate, with his 'lack of faith in mankind:' the spiritual desert in which Pilate kills. (Milne 1977, 31)

Even though Azazello is not apparently present in the opening scene at Patriarch's Ponds,

his presence is inherently connected to Woland and the remainder of Woland's suite, in

cluding Koroviev and Begemot, both of whom are present. In the quotation above, de

sertification is correlated with a lack of faith. Patriarch's Ponds are symbolic of lost faith,

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of ecclesiastical land that was forcibly made profane. Although not all ecclesiastical land

is consecrated, it still belongs to a hierarchy that is based on faith and the immaterial.

Bulgakov is particularly interested in deserts as a metaphysical space—which is

also the reflection of very concrete physical spaces—in the same way that Dostoevsky is.

The space of the desert is also used in the same way for the same purpose—to involve the

subject in metaphysical examination, and entailing a component of hardship or afflic

tion. Bulgakov s treatment of Patriarchs Ponds prefigures the eventual appearance and

actions of Azazello [see section 3.6 Apartment NQ 50 on page 138]:

When one investigates further the meaning and associations of the name Azazello, however, veritably fathomless pits of exegesis open up. 'Azazel' is frequently mentioned in the Book of Enoch, where he is the fallen angel who 'taught men to make swords, and knives, and shields, and breastplates, and made known to them the metals of the earth, and the art of working them, and bracelets, and ornaments, and the use of antimony, and the beautifying of the eyelids, and all kinds of costly stones, and all coloring tinctures. And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray, and became corrupt in all their ways' (1 Enoch 8): Azazel... hath taught all unrighteousness on earth and revealed the eternal secrets which were preserved in heaven, which men were striving to learn' (9); 'The Lord said to Raphael: "Bind Azazel hand and foot and cast him into darkness, and make an opening in the desert... and cast him therein ... The whole earth hath been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin"' (10)... This list of charges against Azazel provides grounds for seeing him as a personification of the evils of human civilization: he has taught men deadly arts and given them deadly knowledge. The word Azazel' itself, however, means 'scapegoat,' and is used in this sense in the Book of Leviticus (16), where it is laid down that on the Day of Atonement the sins of the people would be laid symbolically on the scapegoat, which is then to be led out into the wilderness, thereby taking away the sins laid upon it. This sacrifice has been interpreted as pre-figuring the sacrifice of Christ... (Milne 1977, 31)

The word civilization stems from city. The evils of civilization are tied to urban space. It is

the economic structure of urban space that makes possible many vices, because the

producers of materials tied to vices can support themselves on their products due to divi

sion of labor and a monetary economy. Additionally, it represents a direct connection to

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the desert—Azazel is the demon to which the "scaping goat" was sent in remission of the

Israelites' sins. The desert is again chosen as the space in which a nexus is formed be

tween temptation and enlightenment. There is a direct correlation between the various

deserts of Bulgakov's and Dostoevsky's works, and Patriarch's Ponds:

The city [of Moscow in the 1920s and 1930s] represents a spiritual wilderness, which is characterised by the rampant materialism and scientific socialism of the New Economic Policy era and, paradoxically, also by the 'idealism verging on mysticism' ([Katerina] Clark's words) which came to dominate the Soviet political culture during the high Stalinist rule. In his novel Bulgakov acts as the devil's disciple, as he (the author) observes Moscow and its inhabitants from a Satanic point of view....

Much later, in 1933, Bulgakov wrote to his friend, the highly respected literary scholar Vikenty Veresayev, that after spending two whole nights with Veresayev's study of Gogol, the devil got into him: as a result he took up once more the novel he had sought to destroy be fire three years earlier and resumed working on it. In The Master and Margarita the devil takes the blame for the spiritual, ethical and psychological confusion unveiled in Soviet society, while the validity of the prescribed dogmatic outlook is apparently(l) reaffirmed through the narrator's conciliatory voice and by means of irony. Instead of leading the nation towards enlightenment, utilitarianism, atheism and socialism, the ideological leaders of the 'new' society are shown to have plunged it into the depths of superstition and corrupt materialism. That is why the issues of loss of spirituality, utilitarian 'faith,' split personality and want of innate, instinctive understanding of good and evil, of right and wrong...re-emerge as the primary themes of Bulgakov's major novel. (Pittman 1991, 2.2.)

In the quotation, the city of Moscow is equated with a desert on the spiritual level. Later,

through the fires set at the Griboedov and the Torgsin result in a symbolic physical de

sertification of the city. Just as Bulgakov compares and contrasts the "physical" versus the

"spiritual" spaces, so he compares and contrasts the Christian and the Soviet modes.The

"split personality" that Pittman remarks upon is further indicative of a link with Dosto-

evsky, specifically with Ivan Karamazov during the visitation of the devil:

Both Dostoyevsky's and Bulgakov's devils represent or evoke ideas which the intellectual protagonists try to resist on the grounds of reason, but which surge forth from their minds.... In The Brothers Karamazov Ivan's hallucinatory meeting with the devil on the eve of his forthcoming court-

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appearance...results from his preoccupation with the idea of'having to justify himself to himself In the debate which takes place between Ivan and his devil the opposing viewpoints are stately boldly, even forcefully, and their justification is sought fairly. The devil materialises in the mundane sphere at the moment when Ivan, feeling ill, but loathe to give in at such a crucial time, sits down 'almost conscious himself that his mind was wandering' and stares 'at some object on the sofa placed at the opposite wall.' The 'object' turns out to be the devil, who after a short period of silence opens the conversation. The gauntlet has thus been thrown down and Ivan picks it up without delay. Similarly on the opening pages of The Master and Margarita the devil materializes as a challenge to Berlioz' comprehensive, atheistic thesis on the history of divinity. (Pittman 1991, 4 6 -47)

Ivan Karamazov is split between faith and the narrow definition of "reason" that Dosto-

evsky views to be representative of the progressive press. The self is in a liminal state be

tween the "conciliatory voice" of the narrator and the actual ideological structure of the

novel. The "primary themes of the novel" which Pittman describes as "loss of spirituality,

utilitarian 'faith,' split personality and want of innate, instinctive understanding of good

and evil, of right and wrong..." (Pittman 1991, ^) are, as Pittman will subsequently con

clude, also specific themes of Dostoevsky's novels. The roots of these themes in Bul

gakov's novel are made apparent in the first chapter, which takes place at Patriarch's

Ponds: "In The Master and Margarita Bulgakov shows how the enforced implementation

of the limited ethics of nihilism, as advocated here by Lenin (and well before him by the

radical section of the Russian intelligentsia), imposed upon people a life of deception in

a make-believe society, where denunciations, persecutions and executions become the or

der of the day" (Pittman 1991, 78). This is similar to the narrow perspective to which Ivan

Karamazov confines himself in his conversation with Alyosha in the tavern [see section

4.4 The Metropolis on page zoo].

2.1 Coordinates and Layers

The spaces in Bulgakov's work that will be examined are where the major action of the

novel takes place. I have plotted the locations onto a map in order to visually observe

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CHAPTER TWO: THE HISTORY OF PATRIARCH S PONDS • PETER G. LARSON

their relationships.31 Not counting the digressions to Leningrad and Yalta, the Moscow

story is contained within a very limited area. The distance between the two most ex

treme points—Doctor Stravinsky's clinic in the north west and Sparrow Hills in the

south—is approximately i zV& miles. The chase, between Patriarch's Ponds and the Quay,

is only zVi miles. Ivan Bezdomny, because his clothes have been stolen, goes to the Gri-

boedov from the Quay by back alleys. The direct route, along Gogol Boulevard, is only

i% miles. This geographic layout is vital to understanding my approach to The Master

and Margarita because of the process of liminalization of space. When Bulgakov wrote

the novel, this space was at the heart of Moscow, the center of Soviet power. However,

the places are arranged in such away and imbued with significance by the text of the

novel so that they suggest a medieval approach to spatial understanding, an approach

that dates from the time when these spaces were liminal spaces; spaces at the edges of the

settlement, both physically and metaphysically. Note that most locations—those with

the most significance for the novel—are located within the first circle [EoAbinoe caAOBoe

KOAbup]. It is significant that the action takes place within the boundaries of the me

dieval city. I argue that Bulgakov's use of space, like Dostoevsky, is essentially medieval,

because it is unified but not homogenous, a distinction I will address later in this thesis.

It is important to note that the Garden Ring road, the yellow road that extends from the

lower left quadrant to the center top of the picture, is built on top of the medieval walls

of Moscow [see Figure i: Satellite view of Moscow on page 79].

I have plotted all locations with an accuracy of within one-eighth of a degree second.

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Figure i: Satellite view of Moscow

The figure above depicts satellite imagery of Moscow taken in 2008, at a height of approximately SS78 feet above surface level. The major roadways are highlighted in yellow. The colored markers represent the locations of events described in 'The Master and Margarita! Note that the city's main ring roads are comprised of concentric rings emanatingfrom the center of the city—the Kremlin. The Great Garden Road is the third outer ring, with the first circle being comprised of the Kremlin walls.

I am not making the argument that Bulgakov deliberately planned this spatial aspect for

his novel. However, the spatial aspect represents layers of the novel that Bulgakov did in

clude, whether or not deliberately.

In order to illustrate how space has changed, I have superimposed a map created

in 1739 [see Figure 2.: Map of Moscow, published in 1745 on page 80] upon satellite im

agery taken in 1008 [see Figure 3: Superimposed map on page 81].

- 7 9 -


Figure z: Map of Moscow, published in 1745

This map is entitled A Plan of the Imperial Capital City of Moscow. Created Under the Supervision of the Architect Ivan Michurin in 1739.' [Plan imperatorskago stolichnago goroda Moskvy. Sochinennoipod smotreniem arkhitektora Ivana Michurina V1739 goduj. It was published in Petropoli in 174s in the Academy of Sciences'Atlas Russicus.'The scale is 1:25,000. The size of the map is so x $4 centimeters. It was downloadedfrom the Library of Congress. The physical call number is: G7064.M71739 .Ms Vault.

-80-


Figure 3: Superimposed map

The figure above represents theiy^g map of Moscow superimposed upon satellite data taken imooS. The map was not arbitrarily placed over the landscape, but was carefully aligned using three fixed reference points: the Moscow River, the Kremlin and Patriarch's Ponds, all three of which originated long before the map was drawn. As is visible in the abovefigure, the river in the satellite image is almost perfectly aligned with the river in the map, at both convergence points, in the lower center portion and the center left portion of the map. During the process ofsuperimposition, the map was adjusted to between io%-po% levels of opacity in order to ensure correspondence with the satellite images of the Kremlin and Patriarch's Ponds. After the imposition was complete the opacity was adjusted to 100 %. The colored place markers visible in the map are features of the satellite imagery, and were placed at the numericalgeospatial coordinates corresponding to the current positions of the locations in question. They were not placed on the eighteenth-century map, but in essence "show through"from their positions on the satellite imagery layer below.

- 8 1 -


In adopting a medieval paradigm of spatial practice, Bulgakov literally and metaphorical

ly builds his story on top of a medieval landscape. The devil creates sacred space because

of the constant reminder of God's presence. However, he does so in space that isalready

connected to consecrated space. Patriarch's Ponds, Apartment N- 50, and the Variete all

stand next to consecrated ground. One website dedicated to the history of the Aquarium

Garden states: "In the late eighteenth-early nineteenth centuries the area of the Aquari

um Garden and parts of the neighboring property (14 Great Garden Street) were occu

pied by the gardens and pond of the Novodevichy Convent. In addition to the status

of Patriarch's Ponds as part of the Patriarch's Sloboda, ApartmentN2 50 stands on the site

of Ermolaev Church, which was founded in 1610, reconstructed in stone in 1682 and de

stroyed in 1931. The Chase leads past the site of the Church of Saint Spiridon, which was

founded in 1627, reconstructed in stone in 1633-9 a n d destroyed in 1930. The Chase ends

at the quay in front of Christ the Savior Cathedral, which was destroyed ini93i and re

built in the 1990s.

It is significant that the devil's apartment is situated next to consecrated ground.

In this thesis I intend to demonstrate how the devil constructs sacred space, which pro

vides a means for resisting materialism. Whether or not Bulgakov intended this paradox,

the spatial situations are indicative of the workings of the novel as a whole. It is indicative

of how the ruling communist powers sought to radically construct space in their ideolog

ical image, and how they failed, because spatial usage is a matter that lies far below the

surface and cannot be so easily manipulated by temporal governments.

Bulgakov seeks the return to a mythical time. He accomplishes this by making sa

cred the profane spaces that the Soviet government created. More accurately, he returns

space to its previous, mythic, sacred status.

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Figure 4: Satellite imagery of Patriarch's Ponds, 2008 n&<m

In the figure above, a detailed view of the Patriarch's Ponds region is displayed. The building in the location of the Variete is a functioning theater. The area marked "Novodevichy Monastery" is now a park. Ermolaev Church no longer exists, and a park is located where the church once stood. Saint Spiridon's Church no longer stands. It was replaced in theig$os with a concrete apartment building.

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, /AT*? Figure 5: Eighteenth-century detail of Patriarch's Ponds region

The figure above is a detailed section of the Patriarchs Ponds region overlaid upon satellite imagery from 2008. The place markers represent points designated on the satellite images by geospatial coordinates. The figure above shows the Novodevichy Monastery, Ermolaev Church, and Saint Spiridon's Church. It also indicates that the Griboedov was located on consecrated ground. The site of the Griboedov is shown to be occupied by a church in the eighteenth century. The line that would become the Great Garden Circle road is shown to be occupied by the city walls, as is Tverskoy Boulevard, the street on which the Griboedov will sit in the 1920s. Patriarchs Ponds are clearly marked in relation to the other features.

- 8 4 -


2.2 Dual-Layered Space

When discussing the philosopher Kant, Ivan Bezdomny off-handedly remarks that Kant

should be sent to the gulag for his thoughts (Bulgakov 2004b, 104). Woland replies: "But," the outlander went on, unembarrassed by Berlioz's amazement and addressing the poet, "sending him to Solovki is unfeasible, for the simple reason that he has been abiding for over a hundred years now in places considerably more remote than Solovki, and to extract him from there is in no way possible, I assure you."(36) (Bulgakov 2006,12)

This assertion of the space that Kant now occupies foreshadows Ivan Bezdomny s fate—

the psychiatric ward. As spaces of abnormality they are the domain of the devil:

"Have you ever happened, citizen, to be in a hospital for the mentally ill?" "Ivan!..." Mikhail Alexandrovich exclaimed quietly. But the for

eigner was not a bit offended and burst into the merriest laughter. "I have, I have, and more than once!" he cried out, laughing, but

without taking his unlaughing eye off the poet. "Where haven't I been!..."t37) (Bulgakov 2006,16)

Psychiatric wards fit perfectly into Lefebvre's conception of'dark places' not accessible to

the light of'reason.' The analogy reinforces how the demonic powers negate the artificial

world of Soviet reason, which in turn is a negation of all that is non-material.

Chapter Two presents Woland's narration of the events surrounding Ieshua Ga

Notstri has just finished his narration and evening is falling. Patriarch's Ponds, which had

been a closed and exclusive space when the devil first arrived, is becoming more open,

but not completely: "The water in the pond had turned black, and a light boat was now

gliding on it, and one could hear the splash of oars and the giggles of some citizeness in

the little boat. The public appeared on the benches along the walks, but again on the

other three sides of the square, and not on the side where our interlocutors were

(Bulgakov 2006, 54). The public, for no reason that is explained, avoids Woland, Berlioz

and Bezdomny.

Woland goes on to assure his interlocutors that he, in fact, was present during the

events he described:

"Oh, yes! That there is one who can!" the professor, beginning to speak in broken language, said with great assurance, and with unexpected mysteri-

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ousness he motioned the two friends to move closer. They leaned towards him from both sides, and he said, but again

without any accent, which with him, devil knows why, now appeared, now disappeared:

The thing is..." here the professor looked around fearfully and spoke in a whisper, "that I was personally present at it all. I was on Pontius Pilate's balcony, and in the garden when he talked with Kaifa, and on the platform, only secretly, incognito, so to speak, and therefore I beg you — not a word to anyone, total secrecy, shh... (Bulgakov 2006, 55)

Wbland forms the link between the Moscow and the Ershalaim chapters of the novel,

both spatially and temporally. Wbland in this sense also occupies liminal space: he spans

the divide between the Moscow and Ershalaim stories. This attribute is figuratively re

flected in his eyes, which represent the extreme states of life and death:

"I just arrived in Moscow this very minute," the professor said perplexedly, and only here did it occur to the friends to take a good look in his eyes, at which they became convinced that his left eye, the green one, was totally insane, while the right one was empty, black and dead.(40) (Bulgakov 2006, 55-56)

Besides occupying the space that connects Moscow and Ershalaim, his body represents

the space between the states of life and death, being and non-being. Moscow is a land of

death, in which life is equated with insanity in the socialist land that is built on 'reason'

that claims so many victims.32 Furthermore, he displays a state that mediates between lev

ity and severity:

Here the insane man burst into such laughter that a sparrowflew out of the linden over the seated men's heads.

"Well, now that is positively interesting!" the professor said, shaking with laughter. "What is it with you — no matter what one asks for, there isn't any!" He suddenly stopped laughing and, quite understandably for a mentally ill person, fell into the opposite extreme after laughing, became vexed and cried sternly: "So you mean there just simply isn't any?"(41) (Bulgakov 2006, 57)

The extremities described are grouped together and are mutually reinforcing. It becomes

clear that Wbland is the intermediary—in the fullest sense of the English word—be-

" Green is traditionally the color of life, of rebirth, and is associated with Easter.

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tween the media of being and non-being. Bulgakov equates non-being with the material

ist dogma espoused by Berlioz.

When Ivan begins to chase Woland, Koroviev, and Begemot, space appears to be

fractured. When chasing the demonic trio, Bezdomny is unable to close the space be

tween them and himself: "No matter how Ivan quickened his pace, the distance between

him and his quarry never diminished" (Bulgakov zoo6, 66). When Koroviev and

Begemot slip away from Ivan Bezdomny, Bezdomny focuses his efforts upon catching

Woland. However, he has the feeling that he advances in space without really crossing

the space that remains between him and Woland:

However, he had no luck. The poet would quicken his pace, break into a trot, shove passers-by, yet not get an inch closer to the professor.

Upset as he was, Ivan was still struck by the supernatural speed of the chase.... And it was here that Ivan Nikolaevich definitively lost him whom he needed so much. The professor disappeared. (Bulgakov zoo6, 66-67)

Although Ivan Bezdomny moves very quickly through rational space, which is the space

between the material bodies of people and objects, he does not progress through irratio

nal space, the space between himself and Woland. The devil, as an irrational or anti-ratio

nal entity, cannot be said to occupy rational space. As follows, there can be no rational

space between the devil and anything else. Ivan Bezdomny deals with two different

modes of space simultaneously.

In the original Russian text, the term centimeter is used instead of inch. It is sig

nificant that the centimeter was officially adopted in Russia after the Bolshevik Revolu

tion. During the Imperial Russian period, before 1917, a different system of measure was

used. Thus, the metric system is implicitly associated, in Russia, with the reforms of the

Soviet government, and thus also with the attempt by the Soviet government to elim

inate what the government declared to be irrational, such as God. Before the Soviet peri

od, it was not customary to measure the distance between people or large objects in cen

timeters, which here represent a purely abstract delineation of space.

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Figure 6: Satellite imagery of the route of "The Chase," 2008

The figure above represents the satellite imagery from 2008 depicting the relevant landmarks of "The Chase" The beginning andending points of "The Chase" are circled in red.

-88-


Figure 7: Route and locations of "The Chase" integrated with eighteenth-century map

The figure above represents the route of "The Chase" integrated with the eighteenth-century map. All points from the 2008 satellite imagery correspond with relevant features on the map. Note that the chase progresses from one boundary of Moscow—the out wall, which would eventually become the Great Garden Circle road—to another boundary of the city—the river.

- 8 9 -


Patriarch's Ponds is a space at a unique intersection on the spatial and temporal axes. Spa

tially it is located at the very border of the old and new cities of Moscow. In a sense it

straddles the delineation between two different spaces that no longer exist in the physical

world, but are only abstractions. The ancient capital of Muscovy no longer exists—it has

been fully incorporated into the larger city of Moscow, the capital of a vast multi-ethnic

state. The first ruler of the multi-ethnic state, who oversaw its inception, is Tsar Ivan IV,

who carries a significance that I will examine later in this chapter. For now, it is sufficient

to use this as the referent of Patriarch's Ponds' temporal location: the liminal space be

tween the Middle Ages and the Enlightenment. Historically this is the Renaissance.

However, the nature of this period often forgotten or put into second place with the easy

application of one term that normally carries the connotation of'a time when reason

magically appeared after several centuries of the dark ages.' That is far too simplistic. The

significance for The Master and Margarita is based in that period's complexities.

For Lefebvre, too, this period is a turning point. Lefebvre defines it as the time

when capitalism began the abstraction of space. This is exactly the moment when space

fractures.

The theme of Patriarch's Ponds continues throughout The Master and Margarita

and is clearly meant to symbolize something further. Mikhail Berlioz perishes when he

attempts to leave Patriarch's Ponds, the space of contact with Satan. Berlioz has remained

alive so long as he was in liminal space—Patriarch's Ponds—in Satan's company. Howev

er, when he leaves the liminal space—the space of dialogue—he dies. Thus, death comes

after dialogue with the devil, not before or during.

Indeed, mockery of materialism in all its forms is to be the 'figure' for the activity of Woland and his retinue throughout the novel—the notion of the devil as anti-materialism being not at all paradoxical, but in fact quite canonical. The devil's traditional cynicism and antagonism to the spiritual element in man should not be confused with materialism. Materialism is the snare in which the devil traditionally catches man's immortal soul— and to believe in the immortality of the soul the devil has to be an idealist. The philosophy of materialism would, as Berlioz indicates, superannuate

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the devil. Woland and his retinue are demonstrably still in business. (Milne 1977, 7)

When Ivan Bezdomny begins chasing Woland, Koroviev and Begemot, there is a division

in space. The narrator states: "The street lights were already lit on Bronnaya, and over the

Ponds the golden moon shone, and in the ever-deceptive light of the moon it seemed to

Ivan Nikolaevich that he stood holding a sword, not a walking stick, under his arm

(Bulgakov 2006, 63). In this passage there is a visible division of space in that sentence.

On Bronnaia Street, the light is provided by street lamps, but that "the moon shone over

Patriarch s Ponds." This distinction identifies the street outside Patriarch's Ponds as an or

dinary space, lit by street lamps, but Patriarch's Ponds, in contrast, are illuminated by a

source of light that is natural, primeval, not regulated or controlled by the human beings

in power. Because that source of illumination cannot be controlled by men, it is de

scribed as "always deceptive." What appeared as a cane earlier now seems to be a rapier

[umara] under the moonlight in the space of Patriarch's Ponds.

Later in The Master and Margarita, Patriarch's Ponds is again mentioned in

connection with illumination. This reference is significant because it occurs, in terms of

the siuzhet, it is connected with the sentence I examined in the paragraph above. The

narrator states: "At half past ten on the evening when Berlioz died at the Patriarch's

Ponds, only one room was lit upstairs at Griboedov's, and in it languished twelve writers

who had gathered for a meeting and were waiting for Mikhail Alexandrovich

(Bulgakov 2006, 76-77). Once again the theme of illumination in connection with a

space is introduced. This time, the space is the offices of MASSOLIT in the Griboedov. Pa

triarch's Ponds are duly noted in the second clause. The naming of the place is not neces

sary to the overt functioning of the narration—the simple description of events. The

reader has only recently witnessed the event. The naming of the specific place in this con

text must serve some other, less obvious purpose. The result of specifically naming Patri

arch's Ponds in this way is to point out a divergence between the types of spaces: Gri

boedov and Patriarch's Ponds.

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The next occurrence of Patriarch's Ponds comes when Ivan Bezdomny bursts into

the Griboedov to announce that Woland has arrived in Moscow, though Bezdomny can

not remember Woland's name or recognize his true identity—Satan. Bezdomny states:

Here Ivan Nikolaevich raised the candle and cried out: "Brethren in liter

ature!" (His hoarse voice grew stronger and more fervent.) "Listen to me

everyone! He has appeared. Catch him immediately, otherwise he'll do

untold harm!"

"What? What? What did he say? Who has appeared?" voices came from all sides.

The consultant," Ivan replied, "and this consultant just killed Misha Berlioz at the Patriarch's Ponds."

Here people came flocking to the veranda from the inner rooms, a crowd gathered around Ivan's flame.

"Excuse me, excuse me, be more precise," a soft and polite voice said over Ivan Nikolaevich's ear, "tell me, what do you mean "killed"?

Who killed?" "A foreign consultant, a professor, and a spy," Ivan said, looking

around. "And what is his name?" came softly to Ivan's ear. That's just it —

his name!" Ivan cried in anguish. "If only I knew his name! I didn't make out his name on his visiting card... I only remember the first letter,' W, his name begins with ' W ! What last name begins with 'W'?" Ivan asked himself, clutching his forehead, and suddenly started muttering: " Wi, we, wa ... Wu ... Wo ... Washner? Wagner? Weiner? Wegner? Winter?"The hair on Ivan's head began to crawl with the tension.'46' (Bulgakov 2006, 84-85)

The language of this passage must be examined very closely in order to understand the

significance of Patriarch's Ponds to the siuzhet as a whole. The first notable feature of

Ivan Bezdomny's discourse is the reference to Woland first as consultant, then as consul

tant, professor and spy.33 This progression of identification reflects the progression of the

conception of the devil over the course of the Judeo- Christian narrative. At the begin

ning of Ivan Bezdomny s sequence of identification, the connotation is a positive one,

and the sequence progresses towards a negative connotation. In traditional representa-

33' Henry Ansgar Kelly specifically refers to Satan as spy, because of Satan's function as observer and supervisor of humanity (Kelly zoo6, 21).

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tions, Satan functions and/or is associated with all three of these roles in a way that is

similar to Wbland's functioning in The Master and Margarita. First, in the role of'con

sultant' the devil goads people towards good or evil. The identification of Woland as

'professor' is most likely connected with Wbland's association with Faust. Thirdly, the

identification of Woland as 'spy' is an identification that, in the early Soviet context, cor

responds with the witch-hunts of the Enlightenment, which are grounded in medieval

demonology.

What is significant to the task at hand is the treatment of the space of Patriarch's

Ponds. Wbland's role as consultant is stated specifically in the context of Patriarch's

Ponds, while no other roles are stated.

In the psychiatric clinic of Dr. Stravinsky, Ivan Bezdomny is preoccupied still

with the space of Patriarch's Ponds and its significance. In the interview with Dr. Stravin

sky the morning after being admitted, Ivan Bezdomny says: "Listen, then: yesterday

evening I met a mysterious person at the Patriarch's Ponds, maybe a foreigner, maybe not,

who knew beforehand about Berlioz's death and has seen Pontius Pilate in person"

(Bulgakov 2006,122). 47 In this statement, it is not absolutely necessary to state where

Ivan Bezdomny became acquainted with the 'mysterious person.'The identification is

made even more unnecessary by the dialogue that immediately follows it:

The retinue listened to the poet silently and without stirring. 'Pilate? The Pilate who lived in the time of Jesus Christ?' Stravin

sky asked, narrowing his eyes at Ivan. 'The same.' 'Aha,' said Stravinsky, 'and this Berlioz died under a tram-car?' 'Precisely, he's the one who in my presence was killed by a tram-car

yesterday at the Ponds, and this same mysterious citizen... (Bulgakov 2006,122)

Patriarch's Ponds are once again identified as the place of Wbland's appearance, and the

element of Berlioz's death is added this time. It is noteworthy that, in this space, Christ is

not denied as He is by Berlioz at Patriarch's Ponds—Stravinsky automatically admits the

existence of Christ as a reference for clarifying the identity of Pontius Pilate, without

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adding any qualification of Christ, such as mythological, etc. In fact, Stravinsky does not

explicitly deny any of Berlioz's statements. Stravinsky performs a coercive function in the

novel, which is a reflection of the Soviet realia of the time. Stravinsky must implicitly

deny the existence of Christ, even if he does not do so explicitly. The same process that

was originated at Patriarch's Ponds is continued here at the psychiatric ward: the process

of questioning and answering. This process will later be extended at the psychiatric ward

by the Investigator [cAeAOBaTeAb] as well. Dr. Stravinsky's clinic, however, is on the other

side of the river from Patriarch's Ponds. This spatial position indicates two things. First,

it points to the fact that this space of questioning and examination is the polar opposite

of Patriarch's Ponds. Secondly, it is an example of demonic bifurcation, which relies upon

the division of space through a mirror image. For example, in medieval demonological

theorization, hell was conceived of as a mirror image of heaven (Aquinas 2007).

It is problematic to fix Dr. Stravinsky's place in the valuational scheme of The

Master and Margarita. This is because of his functional proximity to the devil. Both the

devil and Dr. Stravinsky tempt individuals. Temptation is in essence a positive function,

even in doctrinal Christian tradition. Thomas Aquinas points out: "It is written [1 thess

3:5]: 'Lest perhaps he that tempteth should have tempted you:' to which the gloss adds,

'that is, the devil, whose office it is to tempt'" (Aquinas 2007,1:114:2). Furthermore, "To

tempt is, properly speaking, to make trial of something. Now we make trial of something

in order to know something about it: hence the immediate end of every tempter is

knowledge" (Aquinas 2007,1:114:2). Both Patriarch's Ponds and Dr. Stravinsky's clinic

are places of trial. Both are presided over by one corresponding dominatingfigure. They

are mirror images of one another and represent two entirely different orientations. Such

a structure can be seen even more clearly in previous drafts of The Master and Margarita.

In The Engineers Hoof, an earlier draft of the novel, distortions in spatial usage are even

more prevalent. The possible reasons for their subsequent exclusion will be discussed lat

er in this thesis, at this juncture I will illustrate how the earlier version dealt with space

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2.3 Patriarch's Ponds in the Earlier Manuscripts

In The Master and Margarita, Bulgakov's concept of Patriarch's Ponds as a space seems to

have undergone a slight transition.

In the earlier version, Woland is identified as an engineer, Ivan Bezdomny is re

ferred to as Ivanushka and Berlioz bears the first name and patronymic Vladimir

Mironovich. Ieshua is identified as Jesus Christ. This version is explicit in making proble

matic any alleged antipathy between God and the devil:

"And you love him, as I can see," said Vladimir Mironovich, squinting. "Who?" Jesus.

"Me?" asked the stranger and coughed...but did not answer. (Bulgakov 2000)

Thus Satan is shown, not displaying enmity towards Jesus Christ, but actually someone

who loves Christ—"Woland here does not deny Vladimir Mironovich's statement. How

ever, at the same time Satan's role as a tempter is demonstrated:

"By the way, I would like to print a few chapters of your gospel in my Bogoborets, said Vladimir Mironovich, "although, it is true, on the condition of several corrections."

"I would consider it a joy to collaborate with you," the stranger said politely, "but, after all, there will suddenly be a different editor. The devil knows, whom they will appoint. (Bulgakov 2000)

Here, Woland displays the desire to work with Berlioz in the editorial offices of Berlioz's

atheist magazine, Bogoborets. If the devil is in fact an agent of God, why would he like to

work to convince people that God does not exist? The answer is: for the same reason that

the devil in the Book of Job—Dostoevsky's favorite book of the Bible—tries to convince

Job to commit blasphemy. The devil is necessary to test human beings, to determine the

true nature of their faith. The devil acts as an invitation for human beings to understand

and recognize their free will.

When Ivanushka and Berlioz ask Woland why he has come to Moscow, Woland

replies that he is a builder [cmpoumeAb]:

"Me called," explained the engineer, at which he began to pronounce the words worse and worse. "Me build stuff."

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"Ah," very respectfully and welcomingly said Berlioz. "That is very nice. You are, probably, a specialist in metallurgy? (Bulgakov 2000)

In this version Woland is explicitly identified as a producer of space. I am not attempting

to argue that Bulgakov had theories of spatial production in mind when writing The

Master and Margarita. Rather, I am pointing out the confluences of spatial practice in

Bulgakov's work with the larger historical European framework of spatial practice.

Earlier in the draft, Ivanushka casually draws a picture of Christ in the sand. The

representation is blasphemous—Christ is depicted wearing a pince-nez. Later, Woland

orders Ivanushka to stomp on the depiction. Ivanushka, considering the exercise foolish

at best, refuses, until Woland angers him by calling him a member of the intelligentsia.

Unable to withstand this insult, Ivanushka moves to obliterate the depiction. When

Ivanushka moves towards the depiction, Woland reacts unexpectedly:

"Stop!" the consultant exclaimed with a thunderous voice, "stop!" Ivanushka froze in place.

"After my gospel, after everything I have told you about Ieshua, you, Vladimir Mironovich, can it really be that you won't stop the young man who has lost his mind?! And you," the engineer turned to the heavens, "you heard that I told everything honestly?! Yes!" and the engineer's sharp finger was raised to the heavens. "Stop him! Stop him! You are the senior one!"(52) (Bulgakov 2000)

This reaction evokes confusion, because the reader may ask, 'Why would Woland react

thus when Ivanushka intended to carry through this action at Woland's own goading?

Kuraev points out that Woland's interest in publication can be traced to the devil that

confronts Ivan Karamazov (Kuraev 2006). The devil tells Ivan Karamazov that he had

sent a letter to a journal editor, but that letter was not published. This parallel is not co

incidence but rather serves an important function. The trope of the devil attracted to

publication but does not take part in it is a commentary on the unique relations of Dos-

toevsky and Bulgakov to the function of the demonic.

When Ivanushka gives chase to Woland after Berlioz is killed by the streetcar,

events are stranger than in the final version of The Master and Margarita. Immediately

following Berlioz's demise, Ivanushka has a vision of Pilate, who has taken on contempo--96-


rary appearance: "The trolly moved along Bronnaya Street. On the rear platform stood

Pilate, in a raincoat and sandals, holding a briefcase in his hands. 'What a nice guy this

Pilate is,' thought Ivanushka, 'his pseudonym is Varlaam Sobakin"* (Bulgakov 2000).

Why is Pilate located on the back of the streetcar that kills Berlioz? Perhaps it is an

example of how banal evil [notuAOcmb] destroys those who are caught up in it. The equa

tion of Pilate's crime with the function of countless Soviet bureaucrats—the cogs in the

machinery of terror—is a force that destroys its own practitioners.

In addition to this obvious interpretation, there are also the ramifications for spa

tial usage that is caught up in this image. The streetcar is the urban equivalent of the

train, which in imperial Russian and then the Soviet Union was an instrument for pro

jecting political control over space. After this vision, Ivanushka suddenly finds himself

transported to a new location:

Ivanushka cocked his cap on the back of his head, unbuttoned his shirt, stomped with his boots, extended the bellows of his bay an, pumped air into the seven-hundred ruble bayan and burst out:

As our Pilate was riding To work in the People s Commissariat Ty-gar-ga, maty-garga. "Trr !" a whistle rang out. A gloomy voice was heard: "Citizen, singing under the palm-trees is not permitted. They were

not planted for that purpose." "Actually, I didn't see the palm-trees, I guess," said Ivanushka.

"Damn them to hell. I'd rather sit on the parvis of Saint Basil's.'54' (Bulgakov 2000)

This turn of events reinforces the equation of banal evil \nowAocmb] with the archetypi

cal manifestation of evil and places it firmly in the contemporary setting. When playing

the accordion, Ivanushka is forbidden by an unidentified voice to sing under the palm

trees. This unidentified space—whatever it may be—has not been constructed for such a

purpose.

This space lasts only for the blink of an eye among the various topoi of the novel,

and it was later deleted, but it must bear some significance. The most likely explanation is

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that this space is Ershalaim. Structurally this stands to reason: Pilate has just appeared on

the Moscow streetcar, so the representative of the Moscow chapters—Ivanushka—is

transposed for a short time to Ershalaim. Significantly, this transposition was deleted in

the later drafts, resulting in Woland being the only character allowed to link Moscow

and Ershalaim. When the injunction against singing under the palm trees is delivered,

Ivanushka states that he would be in a better position on the parvis of Saint Basil's

Cathedral.

The history of Saint Basil's Cathedral provides atopos that resonates with the nov

el as a whole: the topos of the 'fool in God' [K>POAHBMH] speaking the truth to the power

ful. There is not a fully developed holy fool in the Moscow sections of The Master and

Margarita. However, the carnival elements of the story often seem 'foolish' or, at least,

bouffe. Saint Basil's Cathedral is unique because it is a space dedicated to the primacy of

'simple' moral authority over vast political power—probably a rare occurrence indeed.

According to the story of the founding of the cathedral, Saint Basil, who was materially

poor and ragged but rich in spirit, reproached Tsar Ivan IV for his harsh ways. The tsar

heeded the saint and, in commemoration of the event, ordered the construction of the

cathedral next to the Moscow Kremlin—the political center of the vast Russian [and lat

er, Soviet] Empire. This is the space to which Ivanushka desires to be transported. In ac

cordance with his wish, he is transported there:

And sure enough, Ivanushka found himself on the parvis. And Ivanushka sat there, rattling his chains, and a terrible, sinful person exited the cathedral: half tsar and half monk. He held a scepter in his shaking hand, scratching the tiles with the sharp end. The bells rang. The sound faded.

"Your deeds are shameful, tsar," Ivanushka told him gravely, "brutality and inhumanity, you drink the deadly promises of the devil's cup, clever monk. Well, give me a coin, tsar Ivanushka, I will pray for you."

The tsar answered, crying: "Wherefore do you frighten the tsar, Ivanushka. Here is a coin for you, Ivanushka-ascetic, man of God, pray for me!

And copper coins made a thunk in the wooden bowl. Everything was spinning in Ivanushka's head, and Saint Basil's dis

appeared under the earth. Ivanushka found himself on the grass in the

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twilight at Patriarchs Ponds, and the palm-trees had disappeared, and in their place the restless communes had already planted lindens.

"Ah," Ivanushka said pitifully, "I seem to have lost my mind, oh, this is the end."

He cried, and then suddenly got up on his feet. (Bulgakov 2 0 0 0 )

Ivan finds himself sitting on the parvis of Saint Basil's Cathedral wrapped in the chains

normally worn by ascetics. However, as historically, these chains endow the wearer with a

certain freedom to criticize the state, a freedom not found among most ordinary citizen.

The renunciation of bodily comfort endows the ascetic with special privileges as s/he is

considered to be otherworldly. In Ivanushka's vision he is endowed with this freedom

that always comes at a price. At this point an interesting reversal occurs, one that prefig

ures the chapter "Pa3ABoeHne HBaHa" in the final version of The Master and Margarita.

Ivanushka also calls Tsar Ivan IV Tsar Ivanushka. The unusual nature of this address like

ly points to a correlation in identification. Ivan the fool and Ivan the tsar are linked in a

dialogue and in identification in order to facilitate that dialogue. Perhaps this is a neces

sary component of their dialogue because only these two interlocutors are free to engage

in such a dialogue. The only two free individuals in this schema are the representatives of

Church and State—the tsar and the holy man, both of whom, according to the ideology,

derive their authority directly from God. This is an ideology known as symfonia, a Byza

ntine concept, in which the ruler and the Church exist in a symbiotic state, mutually re

inforcing one another.

Tsar Ivan IV and the Cathedral come from and return to a metaphorical 'under

ground.' This is likely due in part to the convention of visions coming up from below the

ground in literature. However, this image can be significant in other ways, such as in as

sociation with hell, with the 'underground' [as in Dostoevsky'sNotes From Under

ground] and with the various layers of culture that lie 'under the surface.'

Spatially this vision is of great significance, even more so than the political sub

texts, though they are interconnected, as necessarily are all elements of a literary artifact.

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The space into which Ivan wanders in his fit of madness is also a logical extension of the

space of Patriarchs Ponds. Both are ecclesiastical spaces that defy political domination.

In conclusion, I have demonstrated that The Master and Margarita is not com

posed of random elements, but is rather characterized by unity. That unity consists of ele

ments that generate contradictory space, which resists the abstract space of Soviet

hegemony. One of the means by which that is accomplished is the subversion of Soviet

tropes, which are modeled on medieval etiquette. Bulgakov assimilates that medieval eti

quette and employs the traditional medieval agent of subversion—the devil. Bulgakov

specifically shapes his devil in the image of Dostoevsky s devil, who specifically refutes

the nineteenth century atheist dogma of materialism. Bulgakov seeks liberation from the

heirs of those nineteenth century century atheists, the Communist powers of the Soviet

Union.

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Chapter Three: Unified and Contradictory Spaces

In this chapter I intend to explain how Mikhail Bulgakov generates contradictory space

in The Master and Margarita in order to subvert materialist space. Materialist space has

become an ideological abstract, and Bulgakov seeks to expose the contradiction between

intended use of the space by its communist framers juxtaposed against the actual lived

use of the space as performed by that space's inhabitants.

This strategy is, in some ways, similar to Dostoevsky's strategies of creating con

tradictory space to expose the dangers and hypocrisies of the liberal materialists of the

nineteenth century. The latter half of the nineteenth century in Russia was a time of spa

tial experiments. The ideology of the Crystal Palace has been discussed in chapter one.

Whether or not a plan such as the Crystal Palace was actually attempted, the dynamics

of that ideology are what shaped the spatial thought of the materialists. Because observ

able and measurable material are all that matter, such a scheme is, in Dostoevsky's depic

tion, inherently lacking in human dignity and in a transcendent purpose for existence.

Dostoevsky constructs unified mental space in parts of his works. This unified mental

space is a demonstration of space in which the transcendant is given place to provide

meaning for human existence. It is space that at least attempts to be in communion with

God.

The study of sacred space, naturally, has a long and complicated history. The sys

tematized study of sacred space arose during the Middle Ages, when the Church was en

gaged in actively assimilating pagan space into the corpus ecclesi<e. Mircea Eliade states

that religious experience is, in one fundamental aspect, an encounter with the other: In Das Heilige Otto sets himself to discover the characteristics of this frightening and irrational experience. He finds the feeling ofterror before the sacred, before the awe-inspiring mystery (mysterium tremendum), the majesty (majestas) that emanates an overwhelming superiority of power; he finds religious fear before the fascinating mystery {mysteriumfascinans) in which perfect fullness of being flowers. Otto characterizes all these experiences as numinous (from Latin numen, god), for they are induced by the revelation of an aspect of divine power. The numinous presents itself

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CHAPTER THREE: UNIFIED AND CONTRADICTORY SPACES • PETER G. LARSON

as something "wholly other" (ganz andere), something basically and total

ly different. It is like nothing human or cosmic; confronted with it, man

senses his profound nothingness, feels that he is only a creature... (Eliade

I959.I3)

Post-colonialist theory points out how, in the natural course of events ,^ other is both

literally and figuratively demonized. It is possible to extend the concept oithe other to

the sacred. In a sense, this can mirror the process of colonization, when temporal forces

attempt to overtake—to colonize—space that was formerly allocated to the sacred. This

process suggests an increase in the divide between a "sacred world" and a "profane

world:"

Our chief concern...will be to...show in what ways religious man attempts to remain as long as possible in a sacred universe, and hence what his total experience of life proves to be in comparison with the experience of the man without religious feeling, of the man who lives, or wishes to live, in a desacralized world. It should be said at once that the completely profane world, the wholly desacralized cosmos, is a recent discovery in the history of the human spirit. It does not devolve upon us to show by what historical processes and as the result of what changes in spiritual attitudes and behavior modern man has desacralized his world and assumed a profane existence. For our purposes it is enough to observe that desacralization pervades the entire experience of the nonreligious man of modern societies and that, in consequence, he finds it increasingly difficult to rediscover the existential dimensions of religious man in the archaic societies. (Eliade 1959,13)

The final sentence of the above quotation is the most significant for this dissertation, as it

contains the essence of the text before it. It is my argument that the devil serves primarily

to pose existential questions, the posing of which work contrary to dogmatic materialism

Bulgakov's novel is internationalist in character. The devil, after all, is not a member of

any nation, which already defines the scope of any novel about the devil. In this sense,

the creation of sacred space within a militantly secular society can be viewed as related to

the process of colonization and resistance.

Resistance can take the form of the generation of contradictory space—a space

that is fractured as a result of contradictions posed in the ideological field. According to

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Lefebvre, this is a danger to which abstract space is susceptible, because abstractions are,

by nature, susceptible to contradictions (Lefebvre 1991). This over-generalization is, how

ever, supported at the root by considering space as a product. Metaphorically, the more

abstract the product's design, the more flaws that are likely to occur.

Questions about space as an abstraction and abstract space are, in fact, markers of

two different and distinct processes. Abstraction and reverse abstraction is the necessary

process of correlating physical markers into ideological principles. Abstract space is a

space in which that process has somehow caused the constriction of freedom of spatial

practice to such an extent that the spectrum of order moves towards the extreme of re

pression. The determination of such principles as order & repression can appear to be

highly subjective. Bulgakov and Dostoevsky, like most individuals who do not advocate

the removal of all constraints upon the individual, clearly sanction order of one type or

another.

3.1 Medieval Slavic Sacred and Demonic Spaces

Lefebvre views medieval space as unified space, because it arises spontaneously as necessi

tated by surrounding socio-economic conditions. As a marxist, Lefebvre bases his judge

ment on the economic structure of medieval society, in which production and consump

tion were closely linked [in spatial terms as well as in terms of producer] and in which

capitalism had not yet asserted hegemony over the workers. The feudal lords were given a

portion of what the workers produced, the remainder was kept by the workers, as op

posed to the capitalist society which Lefebvre inhabits, in which the whole of the

production of the workers is collected by the capitalist overseers, and then the workers

are compensated with the abstract institution of monetary exchange.

I view the medieval paradigm as unified, not for economic reasons, but for social

reasons. The culture of the middle ages and early Renaissance consistently maintained—

although with a substantial subset of variation into the exact form and means—the the

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cosmos is a unified product of God's will. If space is a product of God, then the cosmos is

a product of eminently coherent meaning.

A useful method for understanding the spatial and religious tradition in which

Bulgakov writes is to understand the medieval Slavic conception of sacred, demonic and

profane spaces. It is my thesis that Bulgakov, like Dostoevsky, returns to a medieval per

ception of space, one that is organized according to religious hierarchical principles.

Slavic medieval hierarchical principles, like those of the West, are not homoge

nous in their treatment of Satan. I will examine the treatment of sacred and demonic

space in two apocryphal (extra-doctrinal) texts:

• The Book of Enoch (from the hidden books of the ecstasy of Enoch the righteous) [KHHra EHOxa (Om nomaeunux KbHuzt o ecxumenuu Euoxoerb npaeeduazo)]

• The Mother of God's Going among the Torments [Xo>KAeHHe BoropoAHiiM no MyKaivrb]

The selected texts deal explicitly with spatial conception of the medieval Slavs. Dosto

evsky and Bulgakov write within this tradition and cannot be completely separated from

it, but are compelled to react to it in one fashion or another.

Descriptions within Slavic hagiography are usually sparse. Physical descriptions

are especially lacking, as the emphasis is on the spiritual, though there are instances when

a physical description can be employed to accent moral characteristics.34 The physical is,

at times, seen as a reflection of inner reality.

Understanding the spatial principles of the middle ages—which in the question

of unity of creation does not exhibit recognizable fractures along Catholic or Orthodox

traditions—is useful for recognizing analogous dynamics in the work of Dostoevsky and

Bulgakov.

34' I am referring to Nestor's Life ofTheodosius in which the saint's mother is described as having a masculine appearance and who attempts to stop the saint from entering the monastery.

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3.1.1 The Mother of God's Going among the Torments

By far, the most important apocryphal medieval text for this dissertation is The Mother of

God's Going Among the Torments [Xoxcdeuue Eozopoduu,u noMyxoMz]. Bulgakov's novel is

based implicitly, if not explicitly, upon the events described in that text. Mary is led on a

tour of hell by the archangel Michael and, struck with compassion for the sinners who

are suffering there, asks God that the sinners be granted a period of rest from their suffer

ing. God agrees, and the sinners are granted a period of rest between Holy Thursday and

Pentecost: "'I give you who are tortured the day and night from Holy Thursday until

Holy Pentecost; have peace and glorify the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.' And

they all answered: 'Glory to your mercy' (Likhachev 1999, 32.0). Demons and the

devil are mentioned occasionally, though never make an appearance.

3.1.2 The Book of Enoch

In The Book of Enoch, Enoch is taken up to heaven and shown what is there. In the sec

ond heaven, he is shown angels who rebelled against God. This second heaven is not hell,

which comes later. It does not and will not contain any human souls. The angels ask

Enoch to pray for them:

And those men took me to the second heaven, and set me on the second heaven, and showed me the prisoners, those who had been judged for sin without measure. And there I saw condemned angels, crying and I said to the men that were with me: "Why are they tortured here?"The men answered me: "They have transgressed against God, they did not listen to the voice of the Lord, but acted according to their own will." And I felt pity for them. The angels bowed to me, saying: "Man of God, pray for us to the Lord." And I answered them, and said: "Who am I—a mortal person, that I should pray for angels; after all, who knows to whom I will go...or who will pray for me ?"( (Likhachev 1999, 206)

The angels who have disobeyed God are not subject to any tortures that can be identi

fied. It seems as if they are simply in a holding cell. Compare this with a more hell-like

place where the souls of humans are kept:

And the men took me away from there, and took me up to the north of heaven, and showed me a very terrible place: all kinds of torment in that

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place, and mist, and darkness, and there was no light there, but dark fire was burning...and a fiery lake covered the entire place...and terrible angels carrying weapons and tormenting without pity. And I said "What a very terrible place this is!" And the men answered me: "This place, Enoch, is prepared for the dishonorable who have propagated Godlessness on earth. They did not recognize their Creator, but bowed to false idols... They bow to the work of their own hands. And for all of these this place is prepared for them to reside forever. (Likhachev 1999, 208)

There are several important inconstancies between the space of the rebel angels and the

sinful humans. Firstly, as noted above, there are evidently no tortures prepared for the

disobedient angels. Enoch describes at great length the many tortures prepared for hu

mans who work evil. It is reasonable to suppose that, in light of the decision to focus so

much on the description above, had the author intended to represent the rebel angels as

being punished in any special fashion, he would have included at least some description.

Secondly, in opposition to the quasi-canonical conception of the rebel angels acting as

torturers in hell, which was created to imprison them along with sinful humans, it is clear

that rebel angels are in one place and 'disciplining' angels are the ones carrying out the

punishments in the space described most like hell: "terrible angels, bearing arms and tor

turing without pity."35 These angels are not in any way described as disobedient, but only

as performing an unpleasant task without mercy.

Thirdly, the rebel angels are repentant—they ask Enoch to pray for them. Enoch

"felt pity for them" [H no>KaAHX en o HHX]. Clearly, these angels are not hostile to divine

order at the time Enoch sees them and their trespasses, whatever they might be, are not

as severe as those of human beings who perform evil. The source of evil is not an exterior

devil but rather is located within human beings themselves.

Besides rebel angels and sinful humans, there is a third group of prisoners in heav

en: the giants that, according to the Book of Leviticus in the canonical Old Testament,

are the offspring of angels:

35' "arreAH MOTCH H HanpacHt, Hoamjen opy>KHe H Mynauje 6e3 MHAOCTH."

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C H A P T E R T H R E E : U N I F I E D A N D C O N T R A D I C T O R Y SPACES • P E T E R G. L A R S O N

And the men took me away from there, and took me up to the fifth heav

en. And I saw there a great troop of giants, I saw 200. Similar to human

form, their magnitude was greater than great wonders, and their faces

were withered, and their lips were silent.... And I said to the men who

were with me: "Who are these who are so withered with gloom faces and

silent lips who do not enjoy divine service?" And the men answered me:

"These are the giants who turned away from The Lord. [...] And they de

scended to the earth and broke their promises on the mountain Ermono-

nia, fornicating with human women and disgracing themselves. And the

Lord judged them, and they cry over their brothers and their former

rank." I said to the giants: "I have seen your brothers, and their wise deeds,

and I have seen them praying, and I prayed for them. And they are con

demned by God to reside underground, where heaven and earth end.

You...are waiting for your brothers, but you do not serve the Lord? Begin

your service again, serve in the name of the Lord. When you assuage the

anger of the Lord your God, you will leave this place.

The giants...began divine service as with one voice, which they

raised up to the Lord.(59) (Likhachev 1999, 211-12)

The giants are, according to the Biblical account, guilty of insurrection against God.3'

However, they do not suffer physical torment in this account, but are treated very simi

larly to the rebel angels. The role that the apocryphal texts assign to the giants [zpuzopu]

is also present in the canonical Old Testament: "Enoch's main revelation is that 200 an

gels, the Sons of God known as Watchers...sinfully abandoned their supervisorial duties

136

36' Likhachev states: "And I saw many ranks of giants..." Giants (Grigory) is derivative from the Greek sypifyopoi "watchers" (see The Book of Daniel 4.10). In the Ethiopian and Greek texts of the apocrypha there is a similar story about them: they are angels, who, with their prince, descended to the earth and took wives from earthly women ("and disgraced themselves with human women"), and they begat half-human children, and there was great disorder on earth, for which God sent the great flood. It is specifically the giants, according to this version of the apocrypha, taught men to make weapons and women to use cosmetics and engage in sorcery (see Genesis, 6.1-4)" (Likhachev 1999, 389-90). " H eudn>x my MHOZO. eon uzpuzopbu..."— HrpHropbH (IpHropbi) BOCXOAHT K rpenecKOMy eyprjyopoi—«6A>imHe» (cp. AaH- 4>IO)- B acJmoncKOM H rpenecKOM TeKCTax anoicpH<j>a o HHX coAepacnToi noApo6m>ra paccKa3: 3TO

aHreAM, KOTOpbie CO CBOHM KHJI3eM CnVCTHAHCb Ha 3eMAK> H Bbl6paAH Ce6e X e H H3 3CMHMX

JKeHIIJHH («OCKBepHHAHCb >KeHaMH HeAOBeHeCKHMH»), H OT HHX pOAHAHCb HCnOAHHbl, H

HanaAOCb BeAHKoe HecTpoeHHe Ha 3eMAe, 3a 3TO IbcnoAb nocAaA Ha 3eMAK> noTon. HMCHHO

IpHropbi, corAacHO AaHHOH BepcHH anoKpnâ, HayHHAH MVJKHHH H3roTOBAHTb opy>KHe, a

XeHIIJHH nOAb30BaTbCa KOCMeTHKOH H 3aHHMaTbCa KOAAOBCTBOM ( c p . BblT. 6, I - 4 ) . "

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over the Earth by lusting after Human women and mating with them, begetting the Gi

ants. The first leader of the Watchers was Semyaz, but on Earth the main teacher of cor

rupting skills to Humans was Azazel (originally the mysterious recipient of the scapegoat

in Leviticus 16.8-10). The Giants...killed each other off, but their Ghosts or Spirits sur

vived. The Watchers were sequestered by God and kept in dark caves to await final judge

ment at the end of time..." (Kelly 2006, 34-35). In addition to providing a contextual

framework in which to understand the role of demonic spirits in The Master and Mar

garita, the above passage provides a direct link between one or another account of

Enoch and Bulgakov's work: Azazel. It is at least a distinct possibility that Bulgakov was

familiar with the traditions surrounding Azazel when investing one of his own characters

with that identity. If so, Bulgakov would have understood that the rebel angels in those

traditions are not hostile to God, but only errant.

Kelly's description of The Book of Enoch is necessary for interpreting the medieval

Slavic text. It is reasonable to suppose that the rebel angels that are waiting in a kind of

purgatory that Enoch encounters are those that are "sequestered" and "awaitingfinal

judgement."37 God tells Enoch: "No one can oppose me or not repent, and all submit to

my power alone and work according to my power alone" [H-BCTI) npoTHBa en MH% HAH He

noKpiia ex, H BCH noicap.HK)T CH MoeMy eAHHOBAacTHio H pa6oTaiOT'b Moeii CAHHOH

BAacm] (Likhachev 1999, 218). The assertion that all created beings obey God's com

mands suggests that Satan, if present, is not working against God's purposes.

Such an assertion, naturally, works against the logic of the fact that human beings

can obviously choose to reject God's will. When Enoch returns to earth he tells his sons

Another connection between the medieval apocryphal account of Enoch and The Master and Margarita is the timing. Both take place at the same time: the 15th day of the month of Nisan (Likhachev 1999, 388). The temporal connection between the works is expected, because it is the most sacred day for Christians and Jews alike, therefore it occupies a special place in all of Western civilization. However, it is one more link between Bulgakov and the unique vision of demons in the Old Testament.

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what he has seen: "And I saw the guards of hell, standing by great gates...and their faces

were like extinguished torches, their eyes were like dark flame, and their teeth were bared

to their chests. And I said before them: 'I would go away from you and wish I had never

seen you... And may no one of my tribe come to you'" [H BHABX KAiOHHbiii CTpaaca

aAOBw, CToauja y npeBeAHKwx BpaTt, AKO acnHAM BCAHKMH, H Auu,a HX, AKO CBima

noTyxAa, XKO HAOMS noMpaneunoe oneca HX, H 3y6,B HXT> o6Ha>KeHHa AO np tcn HX. M

rAaroAax B AHiie HX: <H OTiueA 6M 6bix H He BHAHA Bac, rose BO HB paAH AkaHHH BaiuHxt.

M HH nAeMeHH Moero KTO npHAeT K BaMT>>] (Likhachev 1999, 222). Enoch's further de

scription of the guardians resemble traditional aesthetic conceptions of demons, but

their operations are clearly in support of, not opposed to, divine will.38

A further key to understanding the ideological orientation of The Master and

Margarita can be found in the 'commandments' that Enoch recites to an assembled

audience:

When a person decides in his heart to bring an offering to the Lord, but

his hands do not do it, the Lord will turn away from the work of His

hands... And if his hands will do it, but his heart is murmuring, then the

pain in his heart will not cease... Blessed is the person who in his patience

brings gifts to the Lord, for he shall be raised up. And if a person promises

to bring an offering to the Lord by a certain time and accomplishes it,

then he shall be raised up, but if the appointed time passes, and the person

renounces his word, then even if he repents, he will not be blessed. For

that any delay gives birth to temptation. (Likhachev 1999, 228)

The above passage is important when remembering that, in The Master and Margarita,

"cowardice is the worst of sins." Bulgakov does not explain the reasons. However, the

statement is made at least three times: twice in the context of Pontius Pilate, and once by

Woland to the Master:

38' Later, Enoch tells his sons: "You see, as I write down the doings of all people, and no one will destroy what I have written, as the Lord sees everything" [BHAHTC HKO BOI ABAa Boncoro neAOB'BKa a3 HanHcaio, H HHKTOJKC Moero pyKonHcamia pacica3HTH, 3aHe IbcnoAb Bee BHAHTB]

(Likhachev 1999, zz6). This is quite similar to the famous phrase from The Master and Margarita "manuscripts do not burn."

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"Your novel has been read," Woland began, turning to the master, "and the only thing said about it was that, unfortunately, it was not finished. So, then, I wanted to show you your hero. For about two thousand years he has been sitting on this platform and sleeping, but when the full moon comes, as you see, he is tormented by insomnia. It torments not only him, but also his faithful guardian, the dog. If it is true that cowardice is the most grievous vice, then the dog at least is not guilty of it. (Bulgakov 2004b)

Once again, The Book of Enoch can provide an explanation for the ideological field of

Bulgakov's work. Through the application of the ideological orientation of the medieval

Slavic work, The Master and Margarita is made coherent.

3.2 The Griboedov

The Griboedov/Torgsin spaces represent spaces of materialist consumption, and as such

are good examples of destructive tendencies of reductionism. In reducing ^sacred space

to a mere space of materialist consumption, the underlying order of the universe is

threatened, as in the religious worldview—as well as that oiThe Master and Margarita—

the world is based on transcendence and sublimation. Consumption—not sublimated

consumption but materialist consumption—is directly antithetical of sublimation.

The reader is first introduced to the Griboedov in just before Ivan Bezdomny

makes his excited entrance after the chase into the restaurant to inform his colleagues

that Woland has arrived. The description of Ivan Bezdomny's entrance is preceded by a

lengthy description of the place, known as The House of Griboedov [or The Griboedov or

Griboedov s for short]. The name Griboedov is a reference to the nineteenth century Russ

ian poet Alexander Sergeevich Griboedov, who wrote a famous play called Woe from Wit

that depicts a man, Chatsky, who is endowed with considerable talents, but is stifled in

the bureaucratic and socio-political structure of imperial Russian society, which he sub

jects to scathing criticism in his speeches in the play.

The old, two-storeyed, cream-colored house stood on the ring boulevard, in the depths of a seedy garden, separated from the sidewalk by a fancy cast-iron fence. The small terrace in front of the house was paved with as-

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phalt, and in wintertime was dominated by a snow pile with a shovel stuck in it, but in summertime turned into the most magnificent section of the summer restaurant under a canvas tent.

The house was called "The House of Griboedov' on the grounds that it was alleged to have once belonged to an aunt of the writer Alexander Sergeevich Griboedov. Now, whether it did or did not belong to her, we do not exactly know. On recollection, it even seems that Griboedov never had any such house-owning aunt... Nevertheless, that was what the house was called. Moreover, one Moscow liar had it that there, on the second floor, in a round hall with columns, the famous writer had supposedly read passages from Woe from Wit to this very aunt while she reclined on a sofa. However, devil knows, maybe she did, it's of no importance.

What is important is that at the present time this house was owned by the same Massolit which had been headed by the unfortunate Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz before his appearance at the Patriarch's Ponds. (Bulgakov 2006, jz)

Immediately the truth of the assertion is called into question. The founding principle of

the building—that it is a special literary space which traces its provenance to one of the

leading figures of classical Russian literature—is subverted into a possible fiction. The

narrative of the Griboedov differs from that of a founding myth. Whether or not found

ing myths express a literal truth, they are always taken to express some higher, spiritual,

social or personal truth (Eliade 1959). The statement that the story concerning the ori

gins of the Griboedov is "of no importance" negates the importance of an origin itself. It

suggests that any origin is as good as any other. Although the origins of this place are not

inherently necessary for it to function as the center of written work of the Soviet Union,

the fact that the place owes its very identity to this association makes a demand on either

the historical fact or the mythical fact of the relevance of the association with Griboedov.

Thus, the narrator of The Master and Margarita immediately subverts the very reality of

the Griboedov. If the metaphorical foundation on which the house is built is non-exis

tent and irrelevant, then the house as an ideological construct is not stable. The shifting

identification, the lack of substance, point to this space as one of contradiction and of

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negation, as well as one of hypocrisy, in which the founding mythology is not itself need

ed or believed by the occupants.

The top floor of the Griboedov building is occupied by the offices of MAS-

SOLIT—the writers' union to which all "professional" writers must belong. This is a ficti

tious organization that is the counterpart of several actual organizations, most notably

the Union of Soviet Writers to which Bulgakov was compelled to belong:

The figure of'the writer,' reflected in myriad facets, can be picked out in the novel's kaleidoscopic pattern. There is the master, whose fate, as we have seen, is prefigured by that of Yeshua, in that both are preaching a truth that runs counter to the official ideology. But there are also the habitues of Griboedov House, the privileged literary elite from which the Master is excluded... (Milne 1977,17)

This organization occupies ostensibly one-half of the Griboedov building itself, the other

half of the building, and the veranda and other exterior areas allocated to the building,

are allocated to the Griboedov restaurant, which will be examined later in this chapter. It

is necessary to keep in mind the symbiotic nature of the writers' union and the restau

rant, and how they both affect the space that they share with one another.

MASSOLIT has co-opted the upper floors of the Griboedov house. It is not

known how the space was used immediately preceding the co-option. However, the only

way that it could have come into existence is through the coercive use of force. In the So

viet Union, all places required for official activity were coercively appropriated by the

state. Any writer who wanted to pursue a career was coerced into joining the trade union

or else would be repressed. The trade union functions as a means of supervision of the

writers and a means of enforcement of the norms. However, this coercive function is

glossed over with a seemingly attractive exterior:

Massolit had settled itself at Griboedov's in the best and cosiest way imaginable. Anyone entering Griboedov's first of all became involuntarily acquainted with the announcements of various sports clubs, and with group as well as individual photographs of the members of Massolit, hanging (the photographs) on the walls of the staircase leading to the second floor. (Bulgakov 2006, 73)

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The second section of the first paragraph that describes MASSOLIT evokes the "involun

tary" transmission of information about communal activities. The same sentence also

contains the image, wrapped in verbal play, of writers being hung, a manner of death

consistently used for execution, even if it is not the preferred method of execution in the

Soviet Union. The first sentence of the description of the MASSOLIT section of the Gri-

boedov house communicates the ideas of coercion, coerced communality, and death by

unnatural means. The following paragraphs deal explicitly with the division of space: On the door to the very first room of this upper floor one could see a big sign: 'Fishing and Vacation Section,' along with the picture of a carp caught on a line.

On the door of room NQ 2 something not quite comprehensible was written: 'One-day Creative Trips. Apply to M. V. Spurioznaya.'

The next door bore a brief but not totally incomprehensible inscription: 'Perelygino.' After which the chance visitor to Griboedov's would not know where to look from the motley inscriptions on the aunt's walnut doors: 'Sign up for paper with Poklevkina,' 'Cashier,' 'Personal Accounts of Sketch-Writers'...

If one cut through the longest line, which already went downstairs and out to the doorman's lodge, one could see the sign 'Housing Question' on a door which people were crashing every second.64 (Bulgakov 2006, 73)

Not only is the above quotation a description of how space is divided within the Gri-

boedov, but also how it is divided outside of the Griboedov. Inside, the rooms are as

signed to functions that are ancillary to the writers' union, but which are concerned with

aspects of the members' lives that, while corollary to writing, are not normally under the

control of a professional union outside of the Soviet system. In a free system, such things

as vacations, creative trips, 8^c., could be arranged for by the individual, but in the Soviet

system such objects can be obtained only with the consent of the organization. Once

again, the individual and the individual's movements within space are restricted by the

coercion of the state organizations.

The line in front of the office entitled "Housing Question" is the line in which a

writer would have to stand in order to apply for some change in living space. As dis-

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cussed in chapter one, the housing question is an obsession for Bulgakov and one of the

primary themes of his entire oeuvre. The description of the long line in front of the office,

which is located on the premises of the MASSOLIT offices, is a further reminder of how,

under the Soviet System, private space is entirely at the mercy of public space. Although

a very exclusive and privileged space, the Griboedov house is also an instrument of totali

tarian control over the intellectual works of a segment of the population, seeking to in

fluence the remainder of the population. The distribution of private space is alloted, as

the case with Perelygino, solely according to the criteria of the quantity—and perhaps

quality—of ideological service to the state.

The signs of the division and control of space are extended further in the context

of the lengthy description of the Griboedov, as the narrator continues to describe the

sights that would greet a notional visitor:

Beyond the housing question there opened out a luxurious poster on which a cliff was depicted and, riding on its crest, a horseman in a felt cloak with a rifle on his shoulder. A little lower—palm trees and a balcony; on the balcony—seated a young man with a forelock, gazing somewhere aloft with very lively eyes, holding a fountain pen in his hand. The inscription: 'Full-scale Creative Vacations from Two Weeks (Story/Novella) to One Year (Novel/Trilogy). Yalta, Suuk-Su, Borovoe, Tsikhidziri, Makhindzhauri, Leningrad (Winter Palace).'There was also a line at this door, but not an excessive one—some hundred and fifty people. (Bulgakov 1006, 73-74)

The Soviet ideal of spatial production is revealed in the propaganda poster depicting the

horseman with the rifle on the hill. In the Soviet cultural discourse, space is always some

thing to be taken by force, to be conquered, either from counter-revolutionaries, capital

ist powers, or the forces of nature (Clark 1000).

Next, obedient to the whimsical curves, ascents and descents of the Griboedov house, came the 'Massolit Executive Board,' 'Cashiers nos. 1, 3, 4, 5,' 'Editorial Board,' 'Chairman of Massolit,' 'Billiard Room,' various auxiliary institutions and, finally, that same hall with the colonnade where the aunt had delighted in the comedy of her genius nephew.66 (Bulgakov zoo6, 74)

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The administrative apparatus of MASSOLIT is described as "obedient to the whimsical

curves, ascents and descents of the Griboedov house." The phrasing of this statement

suggests that the socialist writers have not, in fact, conquered space or created new space,

but are simply conforming themselves to the contours of the previously existing space,

trying to occupy it for their own gain.39 This spatial practice is in a direct contradiction

to the stated paradigm of spatial creation/appropriation espoused by official Soviet ide

ology (Clark 2000). This ideal of spatial consumption clashes with the reality of material

consumption to which the lower floor of the Griboedov is given over:

The entire ground floor of the aunt's house was occupied by a restaurant, and what a restaurant! It was justly considered to be the best in Moscow. And not only because it took up two vast halls with arched ceilings, painted with violet, Assyrian-maned horses, not only because on each table there stood a lamp shaded with a shawl, not only because it was not accessible to just anybody coming in off the street, but because in the quality of its fare Griboedov's beat any restaurant in Moscow up and down, and this fare was available at the most reasonable, by no means onerous price.67

(Bulgakov 2006, 74-75)

Although the restaurant is social, communal space in the sense that it is the antithesis of

private space, in another sense it is an exclusive, non-communal space, in that it is not

open to the community. Spaces of elaborate consumption in the bourgeois style would

seem to be discouraged in the official life of the Soviet Union, yet such spaces do exist,

and exist with official sanction. Ironically, as a space dedicated to the production of pro

letarian literature, it is meant to be used for the encouragement of commonality and the

marginalization of privilege in the form of consumption of luxury consumer goods. Bul

gakov markedly points to this irony in the conversation between two writers, one of

whom is trying to convince the other to stay for dinner at the Griboedov:

39' This is analogous to the Biblical concept of demonic possession, in which a demon enters the body of the possessed and bends the possessed to his well. Dostoevsky chooses the episode of the possession of the herd of swine from the Bible as the epitaph for his novel The Devils. Just as the body is referred to as The Temple by Christ, so the spatial practice of MASSOLIT could be seen as possession by devils of the 'temple of literature.'

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"I'm not trying to convince you, Amvrosy," Foka squeaked. "One can also dine at home."

"I humbly thank you," trumpeted Amvrosy, "but I can imagine your wife, in the communal kitchen at home, trying to do perch au na-turel to order in a saucepan! (Bulgakov 2006, 76)

The Griboedov is presented not as a supplement to the home and the communal kitchen

in the necessity of sustaining workers in their work, but rather as a pleasurable alterna

tive, so that the worker may consume luxury items not necessary to his work. The fact

that the offices of MASSOLIT are supposed to be dedicated to mass consumption

[demonstrated by the name of the organization itself: mass literature] is an ironic con

trast with the exclusive consumption granted to the producers of the mass literature,

which occurs one floor below the organization's offices.

Thus, the narrator of The Master and Margarita shows the writers of mass litera

ture to be in space that is shared in common among members of the writers' union, but

not the people whom the writers are supposed to serve. The people are excluded from

that communality. The union members can be said to be in communion with the govern

ment, but not with the people. The writers are supposed to sustain the will of the people

to build communism, but work, it seems, primarily to sustain themselves physically in

comfort and ease.

The act and significance of consumption can be understood differently in differ

ent spatial paradigms. Above, I have briefly outlined the Soviet ideal of consumption,

both of space and of literature. The alternative paradigm of consumption in which Bul

gakov was raised and which he address in The Master and Margarita is the paradigm of

material consumption as subordinated to spiritual consumption, in the Christian para

digm. Ironically, the Soviet paradigm is founded on the dynamics of production and

consumption, but those dynamics are subverted in The Master and Margarita.

The relation between physical and spiritual sustenance is dealt with by the doc

trine of the Eucharist. Irenaeus states: "The church had received this tradition from the

apostles, and all over the world it made this offering to God: 'We offer to him the things

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that are his own, consistently announcing and confessing the fellowship and unity of

flesh and spirit. For as the bread taken from the earth, when it has received the consecra

tion from God, is no longer common bread but is the Eucharist, which consists of two

realities, earthly and heavenly; so also our bodies, when they receive the Eucharist, are no

longer corruptible, but have the hope of the resurrection into eternal [life]'"(Pelikan

1971,167). In Christian doctrine, consumption is at the very basis of putting one's selfz'72

communion with the spiritual. There are two central ideas at work: that of consumption

and that of community. In the act of consumption of the Eucharist, the individual ac

knowledges an individual relationship with God as well as, simultaneously, a communal

association with the church.

In the Christian practice, consumption is a sign of integration, whereas in the ma

terialist paradigm it becomes a sign of dis-integration.40 The Griboedov, by contrast, is a

space of consumption that is antithetical to the two realities. The materialist doctrine of

the one reality, in effect, radically shears away space, collapsing an entire system of

alterity.

Bulgakov, in effect, mirrors the two varying concepts oiconsumption in his por

trayal of the M A S S O L I T members. Firsdy, this is evident in the identification of the MAS-

SOLIT members as counterparts to the Apostles:

Exactly at midnight all twelve writers left the upper floor and descended

to the restaurant. Here again they silently berated Mikhail Alexandrovich:

all the tables on the veranda, naturally, were occupied, and they had to

stay for supper in those beautiful but airless halls.

And exactly at midnight, in the first of these halls, something

crashed, jangled, spilled, leaped. And all at once a high male voice desper

ately cried out 'Hallelujah!' to the music. The famous Griboedov jazz

40' This is one reason that the Aztecs were so easily converted to Christianity. Berlioz, at the beginning of the novel, describes to Ivan Bezdomny how the Aztecs would fashion figurines of their primary deity from dough, and consume them. The concept of consuming God in the form of bread resonated with their own practices. When Berlioz is instructing Ivan Bezdomny about the universality of the supposed myth of Christ, Berlioz mentions the Aztecs [see Chapter Two: The History of Patriarch's Ponds on page 68].

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band struck up. Sweat-covered faces seemed to brighten, it was as if the horses painted on the ceiling came alive, the lamps seemed to shine with added light, and suddenly, as if tearing loose, both halls broke into dance, and following them the veranda broke into dance...

The high voice no longer sang, but howled 'Hallelujah!' The clashing of golden cymbals in the band sometimes even drowned out the clashing of dishes which the dishwashers sent down a sloping chute to the kitchen. In short—hell.(69) (Bulgakov 2006, 80-81)

The twelve members of the MASSOLIT governing council descends the staircase into an

infernal environment, a parody of the eventual ascension of the twelve Apostles at the

conclusion of their lives after preaching the Gospels.

When the members of MASSOLIT receive news of Berlioz's demise, the reaction

of many of them is to continue eating. Not only is consumption divorced from integra

tion, but it becomes a sign of dis-integration. Furthermore, it is shown in the context of

MASSOLIT to be an activity by which the individual divorces him/herself from the

events surrounding the individual. The continued consumption of luxury food after hav

ing been informed of the death Berlioz points to an important theme that Bulgakov con

tinues from Dostoevsky and from Gogol, his favorite writer: that of the source of evil

emanating from banality:

Streaming with sweat, waiters carried sweating mugs of beer over their heads, shouting hoarsely and with hatred: 'Excuse me, citizen!' Somewhere through a megaphone a voice commanded: 'One Karsky shashlik! Two Zubrovkas! Home-style tripe!' The high voice no longer sang but howled 'Hallelujah!' The clashing of golden cymbals in the band sometimes even drowned out the clashing of dishes which the dishwashers sent down a sloping chute to the kitchen. In short—hell.

And at midnight there came an apparition in hell. A handsome dark-eyed man with a dagger-like beard, in a tailcoat, stepped on to the veranda and cast a regal glance over his domain. They used to say, the mystics used to say, that there was a time when the handsome man wore not a tailcoat but a wide leather belt with pistol butts sticking from it, and his raven hair was tied with scarlet silk, and under his command a brig sailed the Caribbean under a black death flag with a skull and crossbones.

But no, no! The seductive mystics are lying, there are not Caribbean Seas in the world, no desperate freebooters sail them, no

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corvette chases after them, no cannon smoke drifts across the waves. There is nothing, and there was nothing! There is that sickly linden over there, there is the cast-iron fence, and the boulevards beyond it... And the ice is melting in the bowl, and at the next table you see someone's bloodshot, bovine eyes, and you're afraid, afraid...(70) (Bulgakov 2006, 81)

This passage captures the essence of the metaphysical condition of 1920s Moscow: a

space that is pervaded by a banal evil, not a romantically flamboyant evil. The first para

graph quoted above describes a noisy space of quiet hatred. The waiters who excuse

themselves "with hatred" in a loud and crowed, stifling hall is analogous to the popula

tion as a whole that is "spoiled by the housing question" as Woland remarks later in the

novel. Forced communality is oppressive in both instances and leads to a negation of

compassion. The destructive impulses are shown to exist in Moscow in the banal space of

a restaurant, one which is supposed to be given over to pleasure, but in existing to in

crease pleasure actually decreases pleasure. In this context, it is not simple as a decrease in

pleasure but, as the narrator notes in the final paragraph quoted above, people are afraid.

The key to understanding this fear is given at the beginning of chapter 7, "A Naughty

Apartment. The reason is as follows:

It must be said that this apartment—Ne 50—had long had, if not a bad, at least a strange reputation. Two years ago it had still belonged to the widow of the jeweller de Fougeray. Anna Frantsevna de Fougeray, a respectable and very practical fifty-year-old woman, let out three of the five rooms to lodgers: one whose last name was apparently Belomut, and another with a lost last name.

...people began to disappear from this apartment without a trace. Once, on a day off, a policeman came to the apartment, called the second lodger...out to the front hall, and said he was invited to the police station for a minute to put his signature to something. The lodger told Anfisa, Anna Frantsevna's long-time and devoted housekeeper, to say, in case he received any telephone calls, that he would be back in ten minutes.... He not only did not come back in ten minutes, but never came back at all. The most surprising thing was that the policeman evidently vanished along with him....

The second lodger is remembered to have disappeared on a Monday, and that Wednesday Belomut seemed to drop from sight, though, true, under different circumstances. In the morning a car came as usual, to

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take him to work, and it did take him to work, but it did not bring anyone back or come again itself. (Bulgakov 2006,102.)

The above passage describes what Lefebvre views as the homogenization of space

According to the narrator's description, at least one, if not both, of the lodgers

described in the above quotation is some sort of government official, as he regularly com

mutes to work in a chauffeured car. However, in the following paragraph, disappearances

are shown to threaten people who do not have government positions. Therefore, Bul

gakov constructs a space of violence that is infused with suggestion of indiscrimination:

anyone and everyone can be the subject of a sudden disappearance.

Two days passed somehow. On the third day, Anna Frantsevna, who had suffered all the while from insomnia, again left hurriedly for her dacha... Needless to say, she never came back!

Left alone, Anfisa, having wept her fill, went to sleep past one o'clock in the morning. What happened to her after that is not known, but lodgers in other apartments told of hearing some sort of knocking all night in Ng 50 and of seeing electric light burning in the windows till morning. In the morning it turned out that there was also no Anfisa! (Bulgakov 2006,103-04)

The time at which The Master and Margarita was written and during which the action

occurs—the 1920s and 1930s—is one that is pervaded by fear. The sudden disappearances

described in the paragraph above were historically a commonplace occurrence. The de

struction of enemies within and without was a method of solidifying the Soviet regime s

hold on power. People would disappear, sometimes for no action on their parts, or be

cause of some association with some else who had been arrested.

When Ivan Bezdomny enters the Griboedov after 'The Chase,' he has just pur

sued, unsuccessfully, the devil from the outer rings of medieval Moscow, through the

center [the space adjacent to the Kremlin] and then out to the Griboedov, which is close

to his starting point of Patriarch's Ponds.

Space is inherently hierarchical, at least in the paradigms of both materialist

[Communist] space and religious space. This implies a system of doctrine.

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The demonic space of the materialist paradigm is the sacred space of the religious

paradigm. However, the demonic space of the religious paradigms not materialist space,

but rather a reflection & reinforcement of sacred space.

The devil has been appropriated to buttress the Mosaic standpoint that impurity

originates outside the body, by localizing the origin of evil to an external point. Bulgakov

implicitly supports the Christian view that evil originates from within the body. It is also

implied that by removing the responsibility for sin from an external source, the human

being is empowered. Although this might be interpreted as endorsing original sin, such a

standpoint assumes a post-lapsarian framework.

[The Griboedov is] ...a satirical representation of'Herzen House,' the headquarters of the Union of Soviet Writers. And what is Griboedov House with the ostentatious luxury of its restaurant, its jazz and shrieks of the popular foxtrot 'Allelujah!'but a materialistic hell that prefigures Satan's Great Ball, with its ape jazz band and its bathing in champagne and brandy? We thus have a nexus of'figures' linking: Pilate—the master— the narrator—Griboedov house—Satan's Ball. A vertical connection is established through all three planes of the novel—the historical, the contemporary and the fantastic. (Milne 1977,13)

As Milne illustrates, Bulgakov is creating a space that is satirical in nature. In this sense it

is a space that is purely derivative, not one that is self-sufficient. A space that is derivative

and not self-sufficient is an almost perfect example of what Lefebvre understands contra

dictory space to be (Lefebvre 1991).

3.2.1 Unified versus Homogenous Space

Within this work I use the terms unity and homogeneity, but not interchangeably. In

Lefebvre s work they represent two different concepts. Unified space is that space in

which abstractions—the economic conditions that form abstract space—are minimized

or absent. Homogenous space—the space of capitalist domination—is that space in

which freedom of choice is minimized by the dominant—capitalist—economic order

(Lefebvre 1991). I view the unity of space as stemming not so much from economic fac

tors as from the web of concepts that unite the individual with religious doctrine and

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with spatial usage. These factors may seem very arbitrarily connected, but they are not.

There is a kind of logic to this connection that was the guiding principle of the Middle

Ages through the early modern period, but then gradually became forgotten beginning

with the Enlightenment. Medieval and early modern man looked at the world through

entirely different eyes than do people of the zoth and 21st centuries—that is a statement

of the obvious. What is not obvious, or at least has been lacking in assessments of Bul

gakov's work, is the possibility that Bulgakov might seek to appropriate this worldview,

and that such an appropriation is of the utmost importance in understanding his work.

A connection with Dostoevsky's work is useful in this aspect. One of the reasons that

Dostoevsky can be considered as one of the last great medieval writers is his spatial prac

tice—his creation of unified space. This space is unified but, simultaneously, heteroge

neous. It is literature under materialist ideology that is homogenous but not unified

3.2.2 Contradictory Space

Communist space strove for unity, but could not achieve it because that space embodied

inherent contradictions and attempted to divorce itself from its own cultural history and

from the history of the West. The Communists tried to represent their space as a natural

evolution, when it was actually an artificial construction. One indication of this is the

use of time:

Thus time was not separated from space; rather it oriented space—although a reversal of roles had begun to occur with the rise of medieval towns, as space tended to govern those rhythms that now escaped the control of nature (or of nature's space). Where was the connection or bond between space and time? Beyond the acquired knowledge of the period, no doubt, yet below the level grasped by its theory of knowledge: in a praxis, an 'unconscious' praxis, which regulated the concordance of time and space by limiting clashes between representations and countering distortions of reality. Time was punctuated by festivals—which were celebrated in space. These occasions had both imaginary (or mythical) and real (or practical) 'objects', all of which would appear, rise, fall, disappear and reappear: the Sun, the Christ, saints male and female, the Great Virgin Mother. As places diversified, so did social time: business time (the

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time of the great market hall) ceased to coincide with the time of the Church, for its secularization proceeded hand in hand with that of the space to which it related. And the time of communal councils likewise ceased to coincide with the time of private life. (Lefebvre 1991, 267-68)

In this formulation, space and time are unified. Religious space existed in religious time,

which was measured in very specific ways: festivals, as Lefebvre states, as well as by cer

tain rites at certain times of day, such as matins, vespers, etc. The "unconscious praxis"

about which Lefebvre speaks is the basis for my observations on spatial practice in Bul

gakov's and Dostoevsky's works. My assertion is that using these spatial practices which

are determined by historical precedent as building blocks, the authors encoded uncon

sciously these spatial practises and ramifications, in their works. The unity Lefebvre de

scribes consists of the bond between symbol and material object, such as Christ and the

sun. In Lefebvre's view, the development of capitalism, with its inherently abstract power

relations, led to disunity. If so, then communism would account for even further disuni

ty, on account of the more abstract nature of its ideological control system. This system

was tied exclusively to the ideological views of its masters, not grounded in a system of

space/time, as was the Church calendar. The action of The Master and Margarita takes

place during the week before Easter—Passion Week [CTpacTHaa HeAeAa] in the Ortho

dox tradition, the culmination of the salvific process, specifically Wednesday to Satur

day—which is not explicitly mentioned in the novel, perhaps as a reflection of its denial

by the official powers.

Lesley Milne (1977) examines The Master and Margarita in terms of its Menip-

pean function, as well as examines the commonly voiced assertion that the Master is an

alter ego of Bulgakov himself. Milne moves beyond that formulation, stating:

But perhaps another writer-figure can be added to the gallery? Perhaps it is here that the urbane, ambiguous figure of Woland belongs? [...]

It would not be surprising if...Bulgakov identified strongly with Woland and his unlimited satirical possibilities, and there is in fact a documentary pointer to such an identification: at one stage in the early 1930s the novel The Master and Margarita was entitled The Advisor with the //oo/^Konsul'tant s kopytom); this word 'advisor'first made its appear-

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ance in the draft title at a time when Bulgakov is writing reviews for tram and signing them 'Advisor to the Moscow TRAM' (Konsul'tant moskovskogo TRAMa). The 'Advisor with the Hoof' is Bulgakov himself, freed from all restrictions, realizing to the full his satirical potential. [...]

If this interpretation of Woland's role is accepted, the novel acquires a further principle of coherence. To the configuration of'the writer' in his various refractions we can now add the figure of the satirist Woland, as a kind of alter ego to the Master and expressing another potential in Bulgakov. (Milne 1977,19-2.1)

The "TRAM" mentioned above stands for the Theater of Working Youth [TeaTp pa6oneH

MOAOAe CH]. The "further principle of coherence" that Milne describes above can be

made even more elegant if developed into a more extensive theoretical basis. I intend to

analyze Bulgakov's work in terms of spatial production, which will also provide a means

of examining how Bulgakov identifies with Woland through how both author and char

acter manipulate space. Bulgakov's letter of 28 March 1930 to the Government of the So

viet Union suggests that the author directly correlates personal space with his existence

and work. He states that the critical attacks upon his work demonstrate that "the works

of Mikhail Bulgakov cannot exist in the USSR." He then asks "am I conceivable in the

USSR?" Finally, he requests that the government allow him to "forsake the boundaries of

the USSR" (Bulgakov zoo4b, 279-87).

These statements suggest that the issue of space was inherently tied into questions

of artistic and personal freedom and the very right to existence for Bulgakov. In fact, the

issue of space is one that Bulgakov is obsessed with in both his writing and his personal

life beginning, at the latest, with his arrival in Moscow. He arrives in Moscow with no

place to stay, and from that point onward the establishment of a personal space is upper

most in his mind. His work often touches upon the 'apartment question' [KBaprapHMH

Bonpoc].

Materialist space can be considered repressive because it severely limits human

choice to what is defined by the dominant ideology zspurely rational. However, defini

tions of the rational can be varied according to ideological outlook. In the patristic peri-

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od, for example, anything that was in communion with Christ was rational and anything

not in communion with Christ was irrational, regardless of whether a given phenome

non fit with a person's knowledge of the laws of nature as observable by a human being.

During the medieval period, when space was unified, this Christocentric view of ratio

nality prevailed. After the Enlightenment, the medieval spatial paradigms of Christianity

became optional xA had to compete with other spatial paradigms, such as the empirical,

which states in its most extreme form that nothing exists that cannot be sensed and

measured. Often, these spatial paradigms must coexist, sometimes uneasily. Sometimes

these paradigms enter into conflict.

Woland—and Bulgakov—creates dual space, contradictory space, which contra

dicts Soviet order. This duality is created through the employment of polysemy. Gottdi-

ener, explaining the work of Levi-Strauss, states:

"In short, the same signifiers possessed different signifieds and these in turn were structured by the class-status division of society. Very much the same source of polysemy exists in advanced societies and, of course, the divisions are even more complex, making interpretive schemes highly fragmented" (Gottdiener 1995,2.1).

The construction of polysemy—of differing signifies for one signifier—is conceptually

related to the construction of contradictory space. My area of inquiry in this thesis is not

semiotics. However, bearing in mind this logical connection can make the study of con

tradictory space more productive. In the analysis of the Griboedov above, I have demon

strated how Bulgakov takes a space that is representative of a real space in the Soviet

Union of the period, and invested it with differing signifieds—markers of irony towards

Soviet collectivization and other spatial practices—thereby creating contradictory space.

In a sense, that is spatial polysemy which creates a contradiction in space. The spatial pol

ysemy that results in contradiction is evident in The Brothers Karamazov, especially in

Ivan Karamazov's three interviews with Smerdyakov, who orders space in such a way so

as to demonstrate the contradictions within his ideological framework. Dostoevsky's text

uses space to accentuate this moral process.

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3.3 The First Interview with Smerdyakov

When Ivan Karamazov first goes to see Smerdyakov, Smerdyakov is lying in the hospital.

Supposedly, Smerdyakov suffered a serious attack of epilepsy during the time of the mur

der of Fyodor Karamazov. According to the narrator, "This was the third time that Ivan

had been to see Smerdyakov since his return from Moscow" (Dostoevsky 1976, 571).

However, it is still described as "the first interview with Smerdyakov." The series of "in

terviews" with Smerdyakov is specifically designed as the setting of Ivan Karamazov's

process of self-doubt and self-examination as to whether or not he has, through uncon

scious action, incited violence against his father and his brother. Because of

Smerdyakov s role in echoing the doubts and fears within Ivan Karamazov, Smerdyakov

prefigures the conversation between Ivan Karamazov and the devil:

In the railway train on his way from Moscow, he kept thinking of Smerdyakov and of his last conversation with him on the evening before he went away. (Dostoevsky 1976, 572)

Smerdyakov, because he is in a state of illness becomes a fully liminal being. Those who

are ill are considered to be in a liminal state, a state in between health and death:

On Ivan Fyodorovich's asking impatiently whether that meant that he was

now mad, they told him that this was not yet the case, in the full sense of

the word, but that certain abnormalities were perceptible. (Dostoevsky

1976, 573)

This liminal state of sickness, in the Christian tradition always bears within itself the pos

sibility of demonic interference. That possibility of suggestion is enhanced by the appar

ent disparity between Smerdyakov's left eye and right eye.

But in the left eye, which was screwed up and seemed to be insinuating something, Smerdyakov showed himself unchanged.75 (Dostoevsky 1976, 573)

Different-colored eyes are a classic sign of affiliation with the devil (Amfiteatrov 1003).

Furthermore, it is a sign that Woland himself displays:

"I just arrived in Moscow this very minute," the professor said perplexedly, and only here did it occur to the friends to take a good look in his eyes, at which they became convinced that his left eye, the green one, was totally

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insane, while the right one was empty, black and dead. (Bulgakov 2006,

55-56)

When discussing the conversation they had at the gate before Fyodor Karamazov's death,

Smerdyakov the cellar, and falling into it, becomes an almost obsessive theme for

Smerdyakov. The conversations with Smerdyakov deal primarily with the questions of

moral culpability and whether or not there is an inherent moral order in the cosmos.

Smerdyakov proclaims that all things are lawful. However, Dostoevsky leaves the reader

to wonder if Smerdyakov believes his own claim—just as Bulgakov's narrator states that

Berlioz does not believe his own statements. If this supposition is accepted, then

Smerdyakov's preoccupation with the cellar and following could be meant as a typologi

cal fear of divine retribution, a typological enactment of a satanic fall. Ironically, Ivan

Karamazov's devil denies the tradition of the fall.41 In away, the attic and the cellar work

simultaneously in two symbolic paradigms. In the sacred paradigm, Smerdyakov fears a

fall from grace to the metaphorical hell as a result of his transgression. Secularly,

Smerdyakov, like Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment, who considers himself above

moral laws and experiences a fall, dares to climb to the metaphorical heights of a super

man, murdering and taking money. However, Smerdyakov seems, at least subconsciously,

that, also like Raskolnikov, he does not truly believe his own ideology—he does not truly

believe that he is exempt from God's moral laws just because he chooses not to follow

them, and fears to be cast down like Icarus falling from the sun:

"...How was it you told me the day and the hour beforehand, and about the cellar, too? How could you tell that you would fall down the cellar stairs in a fit, if you didn't sham a fit on purpose ?"

"I had to go to the cellar anyway, sir, several times a day, indeed," Smerdyakov drawled deliberately. "I fell from the garret just in the same way a year ago, sir...."

"And the cellar? How could you know beforehand of the cellar?"

41' As described elsewhere in this thesis, the tradition of the fall of Satan is not explicitly stated in the Bible. It is a later tradition, and not universally accepted (Kelly 2006; Pagels 1995).

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"You don't seem able to get over that cellar! As I was going down to the cellar, I was in terrible dread and doubt. What frightened me most was losing you and being left without defense in all the world. So I went down into the cellar thinking, 'Here it'll come on directly, it'll strike me down directly, shall I fall?'... All that and all my previous conversation with you at the gate the evening before, when I told you how frightened I was and spoke of the cellar, sir. (Dostoevsky 1976, 574)

As demonstrated above, Smerdyakov's obsession with spaces that metaphorically repre

sent the spaces of divine retribution for the violation of divine law, which is expressed by

Smerdyakov's sickness. Smerdyakov has placed himself into the liminal state of contem

plation of transgression, and has crossed the limin into transgression. The transgression is

a result of excessive pride, which is the source of the fall of satan according to one vein of

tradition. Dostoevsky s position is that evil originates from within man, not from with

out, and as a result of this position, Smerdyakov experiences mental anguish over the no

tional fall, of which the physical is only a reflection.

3.4 The Second Interview with Smerdyakov

The second interview with Smerdyakov takes place a few days after the first interview, in

a different setting. Now space is a phenomenon that can be directly interpreted because

it is Smerdyakov's own, the one that he has created and inhabits, unlike the hospital, in

which the analysis was restricted to the space that Smerdyakov spoke of, not the space he

occupied at the time:

By that time Smerdyakov had been discharged from the hospital. Ivan Fyodorovich knew his new lodging, the dilapidated little wooden house, divided in two by a hall on one side of which lived Marya Kondratyevna and her mother, and on the other, Smerdyakov.... (Dostoevsky 1976, 580)

When Ivan Karamazov enters the house that Smerdyakov is sharing with Marya Kon

dratyevna and her mother, Smerdyakov's room is located on the left, which is the tradi

tional position associated with that which is bad, as opposed to right, which has conno-

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tations of good, in languages such as Russian, English, French and Latin, from which

these associations arise:

Ivan Fyodorovich knocked, and, on the door being opened, went into the hall. By Marya Kondratyevna's directions he went straight to the better room on the left, occupied by Smerdyakov.'79' (Dostoevsky 1976, 580)

The room that Ivan Karamazov enters is first and foremost characterized by the stove and

the temperature generated by that stove. The love of the devil for heat—representative of

the fires of hell—is a common convention in European tradition, one that is also used by

Bulgakov, who has Woland wear gloves at Patriarchs Ponds, in spite of the high tempera

ture, which Berlioz remarks upon, and who keeps afire going in apartment N9 50.

There was a tiled stove in the room and it was extremely hot. The walls

were covered with blue wallpaper, which was a good deal torn, however,

and in the cracks under it cockroaches swarmed in amazing numbers, so

that there was a continual rustling from them. The furniture was very

scanty: two benches against each wall and two chairs by the table. The ta

ble of plain wood was covered with a cloth with pink patterns on it. There

was a pot of geraniums on each of the two little windows. In the corner

there was a case of icons. On the table stood a little copper samovar with

many dents in it, and a tray with two cups. But Smerdyakov had finished

tea and the samovar was out. He was sitting at the table on a bench. He

was looking at an exercise book and slowly writing with a pen. There was a

bottle of ink by him and a flat iron candlestick, but with a stearine candle.

Ivan Fyodorovich saw at once from Smerdyakov's face that he had com

pletely recovered from his illness. (Dostoevsky 1976, 580)

The passage above mentions three heat/light sources: the tile stove, the samovar and the

stearine candle. The tile stove is lit to excess—according to the impressions of Ivan Kara

mazov—the samovar has gone out, and the candle is lit. Although there are icons in the

corner, there appears to be no votive lamps in front of them. There is an inkwell sitting

on the table next to Smerdyakov, which evokes associates with Martin Luther, who al

legedly threw an inkwell at the devil when the devil attempted to prevent Martin Luther

from working. Such an association might seem far-fetched if the devil who speaks with

Ivan Karamazov did not allude to it when Ivan Karamazov throws a cup at the devil.

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In conversing with Smerdyakov, Ivan Karamazov examines his own actions with

suspicion. Ivan Karamazov's conversation with Smerdyakov mirrors the interior process

of self-questioning.

"I didn't know what thoughts were in your mind then, sir," said Smerdyakov resentfully; "and so I stopped you then at the gate to sound you out on that very point, sir."

"As for the murder, you couldn't have done that, sir, and didn't want to, but as for wanting someone else to do it, that was just what you did want. (Dostoevsky 1976, 582)

The interview ends with Ivan Karamazov making no resolution in particular. Ivan Kara

mazov decide to visit Katerina Ivanovna, his girlfriend who is in love at times with Dmit

ry Karamazov, and who allegedly has a document that implicates Dmitry:

Ivan Fyodorovich...walked quickly out of the cottage. The cool evening air refreshed him. There was a bright moon in the sky. A nightmare of ideas and sensations filled his soul. (Dostoevsky 1976, 584)

When Ivan Fyodorovich exits from Smerdyakov's space, he is confronted by "cool

evening air," a "bright moon in the sky," and "a nightmare of ideas and sensations." When

Ivan Karamazov arrives at Katerina Ivanovna's house, she presents him the the document,

which convinces Ivan Karamazov that it was Dmitry who killed their father, not

Smerdyakov. If Smerdyakov did not commit the murder, then Ivan Karamazov could not

be morally culpable for having given Smerdyakov implicit approval to commit the crime: ...Katerina Ivanovna...got up from her seat without a word, went to her writing table, opened a box standing on it, took out a sheet of paper and laid it before Ivan. This was the document of which Ivan Fyodorovich spoke to Alyosha later on as a "conclusive proof" that Dmitri had killed his father. This was the letter written by Mitya to Katerina Ivanovna...on the very evening he met Alyosha at the crossroads on the way to the monastery, after the scene at Katerina Ivanovna's, when Grushenka had insulted her. Then, parting from Alyosha, Mitya had rushed to Grushenka. I don't know whether he saw her, but in the evening he was at the Metropolis.... (Dostoevsky 1976,585)

Ivan strongly desires not to bear responsibility for Ivan Karamazov's death. Falling into

the complacent comfort of certainty in Dmitry's guilt, Ivan contemplates what he con

siders to be the noble course of action, which is to help his brother to escape. Dmitry, in

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order to finally and irrevocably soothe his conscious, decides to counter one of

Smerdyakov's arguments for Ivan Karamazov's responsibility for the event—that Dmitry

wanted to set up his brother so that he could receive a portion of his brother s share of

the inheritance after his brother's conviction—by planning to expend the exact amount

of that sum on his brother's escape.

He [Ivan Karamazov] determined to sacrifice thirty thousand on arranging Mitya's escape. On his return from seeing him, he was very mournful and dispirited, he suddenly began to feel that he was anxious for Mitya's escape, not only to heal that sore place by sacrificing thirty thousand, but for another reason. "Is it because I am as much a murderer at heart?" he asked himself. Something very deep down seemed burning and rankling in his soul. His pride above all suffered cruelly all that month....

He let go of the bell and rushed off to Smerdyakov. (Dostoevsky 1976, 587)

The mathematical calculation of the expenditure Ivan Karamazov is willing to make for

saving his brother from a harsh sentence for a crime he did not commit is insufficient.

Dostoevsky suggests that such calculation on Ivan's part is a continuance of the pride

from which Ivan suffers. In essence, Ivan hopes to bribe his way out of guilt, but there is

no agency that can accept the bribe to absolve him. In essence, Ivan is offering a bribe to

himself, but his conscious realizes this is insufficient. The desire to alter a metaphysical

state via physical means is echoed in The Master and Margarita in the episode with the

head barman who visits Woland and is told that he will die of cancer. The barman than

goes to a doctor named Kuzmin and offers the doctor money in order to be saved: The barman took out thirty roubles and placed them on the table, and then, with an unexpected softness...placed on top of the bills a clanking stack wrapped in newspaper.

"And what is this?" Kuzmin asked... "Don't scorn it, citizen Professor,' the barman whispered. "I beg

you—stop the cancer!" "Take away your gold this minute," said the professor, proud of

himself. (Bulgakov 2.006, 298-99)

The scene is not one of bribery of the doctor in return for physical health, as it may first

appear. Rather, the scene is one in which the barman tries to by assurances and certainty

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because he does not have faith. However, earlier in The Master and Margarita, when the

barman visits Woland at apartment Ns 50, the barman is depicted as devout: There was a table at the sight of which the God-fearing barman gave a start: the table was covered with church brocade. (Bulgakov 2006, 287)

Upon leaving apartment NQ 50, the barman crosses himself, which is not appropriate be

havior for a functionary of socialist gatherings. Furthermore, the barman's employment

of religious signs in the space of the devil exposes that he acts in a hypocritical fashion

when begging the doctor to cure the cancer. This is not to say that employment of reli

gious symbolism causes the expression of doubt and fear to be hypocritical. In Dosto-

evsky's, as in Bulgakov's work, doubt and fear exist side by side with a desire for faith, in a

dialogical relationship of self-questioning. Throughout his visit to apartment NQ 50, the

barman displays signs of condescension towards his surroundings. For example, when re

turning to fetch his hat, "The barman spat mentally..." (Bulgakov 2006, 295). The bar

man is evidently not searching for faith, but rather functions as a pharisee, judging with

out questioning. In his actions he echoes Ivan Karamazov's worst side.

However, Ivan Karamazov does manage to overcome his own self-satisfaction and

pride, though it requires a great effort.

3.5 The Third and Last Interview with Smerdyakov

The third and final interview with Smerdyakov takes place in a space that, although it is

the same, it is also different. The difference is expressed by the heightened description

that leads to Smerdyakov's dwelling. The description serves to increase the sense of lim-

inality of that space:

When he was halfway there, the keen dry wind that had been blowing early that morning rose again, and a fine, thick, dry snow began falling heavily. It did not lie on the ground, but was whirled about by the wind and soon there was a regular snowstorm. There were scarcely any lamp posts in the part of the town where Smerdyakov lived. Ivan strode along in the darkness.... (Dostoevsky 1976,588)

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The snow-storm is a phenomenon traditionally associated with some manifestation of

the demonic. Pushkin's poem "The Blizzard" [MeTeAh] is also used as the epigraph for

Dostoevsky's novel The Devils. It tells of a man in a carriage driving across the fields who

is caught in a snow-storm, which the man ascribes to demons. The main effect of the

storm is one of confusion and disorientation, which can also be said to be the state of

contact with the devil in the works of Dostoevsky and Bulgakov, among other writers

throughout world literature. This disorientation, which takes place in liminal space,

serves to compel the subject to question himself, search his consciousness and compare

and contrast it with his understanding of morality and belief.

In the hall, Marya Kondratyevna, who ran out to open the door with a candle in her hand, whispered that Pavel Fyodorovich (that is, Smerdyakov) was very ill; "it's not that he's laid up, sir, but he seems not himself, and he even told us to take the tea away; he wouldn't have any.'88

(Dostoevsky 1976,588)

When Ivan Karamazov arrives to visit Smerdyakov, Marya Kondratyevna opens the door

holding a candle. Smerdyakov has not touched the tea, meaning that the samovar is not

lit. The corridor is dimly lit by a single candle, and the source of fire in Smerdyakov's

room is the stove, and possibly—though it is not explicitly stated—a candle:

It was overheated as before, but there were changes in the room. One of the benches at the side had been removed, and in its place had been put a large old mahogany leather sofa, on which a bed had been made up, with fairly clean white pillows. Smerdyakov was sitting on the sofa, wearing the same dressing gown. The table had been brought out in front of the sofa, so that there was hardly room to move. On the table lay a thick book with a yellow cover, but Smerdyakov was not reading it. (Dostoevsky 1976, 589)

The excessive heat from the fire in the stove indicates excessive production of heat. If a

candle is burning, it is not being used for reading, as stated above. The samovar is not

burning and is not being used for the preparation of tea. Dostoevsky describes a space of

consumption without attenuated and useful production. Fuel is being consumed by the

fire, but the product is in excess. Other sources of light/heat are not operational.

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"Why are you so uneasy?" Smerdyakov stared at him, not simply with contempt, but almost with a revulsion. "Is this because the trial begins tomorrow? Nothing will happen to you, can't you believe that at last? Go home, go to bed and sleep in peace, don't be afraid of anything. (Dostoevsky 1976, 589)

In this third interview with Smerdyakov, Ivan Karamazov and Smerdyakov explicitly ad

dress the question of Ivan Karamazov's responsibility in the death of Fyodor Karamazov.

Ivan comes to this room with a definite purpose: to understand, through a process of

questioning both Smerdyakov and himself, if he does, in fact, bear any responsibility for

the death of Fyodor Pavlovich:

"I don't understand you.... What have I to be afraid of tomorrow?" Ivan articulated in astonishment, and suddenly a chill breath of fear did in fact pass over his soul. Smerdyakov measured him with his eyes.

"You don't understand?" he drawled reproachfully. "It's a strange thing a clever man should care to play such a farce!"

Ivan looked at him speechless. The startling, incredibly supercilious tone of this man who had once been his lackey was extraordinary in itself. He had not taken such a tone even at their last interview.'91' (Dostoevsky 1976, 590)

In this final conversation, Smerdyakov explicitly states that God is present in the space

with him and Ivan Karamazov. This statement seems to directly contradict Smerdyakov's

earlier assertions.

"Do you know, I am afraid that you are a dream, a phantom sitting before me," he [Ivan Karamazov] muttered.

"There's no phantom here, but only us two and one other. No doubt he is here, that third, between us."

"Who is he? Who is here? What third person?" Ivan Fyodorovich cried in alarm, looking about him, his eyes hastily searching in every corner.

"That third is God Himself, sir, Providence, sir. He is the third beside us now. Only don't look for him, you won't find him." (Dostoevsky 1976, 59i)

Smerdyakov turns out to have been reading the sayings of a desert hermit:

He [Smerdyakov] was just going to get up and call at the door to Marya Kondratyevna...but, looking for something to cover up the notes that she might not see them, he first took out his handkerchief, and as it turned

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out again to be very dirty and used, took up the big yellow book that Ivan had noticed at first lying on the table, and put it over the money. The book was The Sayings of the Holy Father Isaac the Syrian. Ivan read it mechanically. (Dostoevsky 1976, 592)

The fact that Ivan Karamazov reads the text "mechanically" has implications for his own

ideological oudook, which regards the entire universe as a machine that obeys purely me

chanical principles, the same ideological outlook that will later become the center of the

materialist worldview in the Soviet Union. However, this ideological marker is immedi

ately subverted, when Ivan Karamazov makes a passing comment about the devil. This

comment must be examined in light of with whom Ivan Karamazov will be discussing in

the next chapter, "Ivan Karamazov's Nightmare:"

"Well... well, it was the devil who helped you!" Ivan Fyodorovich cried again. "No, you are not a fool, you are far cleverer than I thought.... (Dostoevsky 1976, 598)

It turns out that money was not, apparently, the primary motivation for Smerdyakov to

commit the murder. Or, if it was the primary motivation, it ceases to be so at this time.

Smyerdakov realizes that he committed the murder simply to test Ivan Karamazov's the

ory that all things are lawful because there is no God:

"I don't want it, sir," Smerdyakov articulated in a shaking voice, with a gesture of refusal. "I did have an idea of beginning a new life with that money in Moscow or, better still, abroad. I did dream of it, chiefly because 'all things are lawful.' That was quite right, what you taught me, for you talked a lot to me about that. For if there's no everlasting God, there's no such thing as virtue, and there's no need of it. You were right there. So that's how I looked at it. (Dostoevsky 1976, 599)

The irony, of course, is that Smerdyakov has, as quoted above earlier in the conversation,

explicitly admitted to belief in God, and explicitly states that God is present together

with him and Ivan Karamazov in the room at that very moment.

After the interview, Ivan sets out to return to his house. In a sense, this journey

from Smerdyakov s dwelling to his own house can be seen as typologically similar to pil

grimage. However, this pilgrimage is only the beginning of the process of disassociation

because, as will be illustrated below, Ivan Karamazov is engaged in a false sense of right-

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eousness. The process of disassociation here is necessary to lay the basis of real self-exam

ination, which will be initiated by Ivan Karamazov's conversation with the devil.

Upon setting out from Smerdyakov's house, Ivan Karamazov enters a classically

liminal state with demonic resonance. The snowstorm is an obvious sign of this, as Dos-

toevsky's choice to use Pushkin's poem as the epigraph for The Devils indicates. The de

monic resonance, offered as the ostensible cause for such a meteorological phenomenon

in Pushkin's poem, plays the role in Dostoevsky's novel of leading Ivan Karamazov to a

metaphorical existential state in which he can examine his innermost thoughts and feel

ings in order to arrive at the truth, or at least an understanding of the truth that is consis

tent with what he sincerely thinks and believes. This is analogous with the function of

setting out for pilgrimage—a function otsacred space.

The snowstorm was still raging. He walked the first few steps boldly, but suddenly began staggering. "It's something physical," he thought with a grin. Something like joy was springing up in his heart. He was conscious of unbounded resolution; he would make an end of the wavering that had so tortured him of late. His mind was made up, "and now it will not be changed," he thought with relief. At that moment he stumbled against something and almost fell down; stopping short, he made out at his feet the peasant he had knocked down, still lying senseless and motionless. The snow had almost covered his face. Ivan seized him and lifted him in his arms. Seeing a light in the little house to the right he went up, knocked at the shutters, and asked the man to whom the house belonged to help him carry the peasant to the police station, promising him three rubles. The man got ready and came out. I won't describe in detail how Ivan Fyodor-ovich succeeded in his object, bringing the peasant to the police station and arranging for a doctor to see him at once, providing with a liberal hand for the expenses. I will only say that this business took a whole hour, but Ivan Fyodorovich was well content with it. (Dostoevsky 1976, 600)

Ivan Karamazov has helped the peasant in the snow, a basic act of human kindness to

which he had been shut off on his way to visit Smerdyakov. However, this virtue is

turned into vice after the fact, when Ivan Karamazov uses as a pretense to become com

placent with his moral actions, to become self-satisfied. It is the same way for his decision

to testify at the trial on the next day about his conversations with Smerdyakov. He in-

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tends and desires to do good, but his self-satisfaction threatens to blind him from the

true nature of morality:

"If I had not taken my decision so firmly for tomorrow," he reflected with satisfaction, "I would not have stayed a whole hour to look after the peasant, but would have passed by, without caring about his being frozen. I am quite capable of watching myself, by the way," he thought at the same instant, with still greater satisfaction, "although they have decided that I am going out of my mind!" (Dostoevsky 1976, 600)

Ivan Karamazov reflects upon his decision "with satisfaction," because he has "firmly"

made his decision to testify on the following day. However, the passage that immediately

follows undercuts the righteousness of his decision. Ivan Karamazov ends up not being

as righteous as he thought, because his decision contains too much pride and self-satis

faction, a deadly sin:

Just as he reached his own house he stopped short, asking himself suddenly whether he hadn't better go at once now to the prosecutor and tell him everything. He decided the question by turning back to the house. "Everything together tomorrow!" he whispered to himself, and, strange to say, almost all his gladness and self-satisfaction passed in one instant. (Dostoevsky 1976, 601)

Ivan Karamazov knows that it would be better to present his evidence immediately, espe

cially because he has been suffering from sickness attributed to mental strain. Ivan Kara-

mazov's illness is actually a typological mirror of Smerdyakov's illness, as it, too, repre

sents the individual in a metaphorical liminal space, on the threshold of an existential

decision about whether or not to follow the moral paradigms they carry within them

selves. Smerdyakov rejects his, acting contrary to it because of pride. Ivan Karamazov,

however, is about to have a visitation that will shake him out of his pride. The visitation

is alluded to at the very threshold of his room:

As he entered his own room he felt something like a touch of ice on his heart, like a recollection or, more exactly, a reminder, of something agonizing and revolting that was in that room now, at that moment, and had been there before. He sank wearily on his sofa. The old woman brought him a samovar; he made tea, but did not touch it. (Dostoevsky 1976, 601)

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The "recollection or, more exactly, a reminder, of something agonizing and revolting that

was in that room now, at that moment, and had been there before," overtly alludes to the

devil, who will soon appear to Ivan Karamazov.

3.6 Apartment Xs 50

Wolands domain on earth, for the time he is in Moscow, is apartmentN9 50. The back

ground of apartment NQ 50 has already been examined earlier in this thesis [see page 119].

Apartment NQ 50 has been shown to have been—before occupation by Woland and his

retinue—a space with two salient properties. Firstly, it is a space dedicated to the enlarge

ment of Soviet ideological space because it served as the living quarters, first of govern

ment officials, then of literary officials. Secondly, it is a space that is governed by fear and

the constant threat of impending non-existence in the material plane, even though,

through the first property mentioned above, it is a space dedicated to the reproduction

of ideology affirming the material plane of existence as the only plane of existence. The

inhabitation of that space subsequently by the devil is itself a contradiction. At the be

ginning of Woland's habitation, the space can then be said to be contradictory space, the

process of which will be examined below.

The devil and his retinue first arrive in the apartment sometime after the chase, in

which Ivan Bezdomny attempts to apprehend them. The exact time cannot be deter

mined between the twelve hours between when Ivan Bezdomny looses track of them at

around midnight, and when they are shown to be in contact with Stepan Bogdanovich

Likhodeev, the director of the Variete, at eleven o'clock the following day:

Styopa unstuck his glued eyelids and saw himself reflected in the pier-glass...

So he saw himself in the pier-glass, and next to the mirror he saw an unknown man, dressed in black and wearing a black beret. (Bulgakov zoo6,105)

The fact that Likhodeev sees himself first in reflection is consistent with traditions relat

ing to demonic space, which is conceived of as a negative reflection of the human world.

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However, in the context of The Master and Margarita the significance extends beyond

the traditional tropes identifying this space as demonic. It is a space that was central to

the Soviet ideological enterprise, but now has become liminalized through Woland's

presence. This further degree of liminalization is reflected in the fact that the mirror is

not just a mirror, but also a pier-glass mirror, which was first employed a an architectural

feature between windows. Thus, the space is double liminal: not only is it expressed as a

reflection, but as a reflection that originates in a mirror that is defined as being between

to windows on an outside-facing wall.

After arriving, Woland symbolically un-divides the space of the apartment. It had

originally been divided among the lodgers before Likhodeev and Berlioz, and subse

quently it had been divided between Likhodeev and Berlioz. The symbol of that division

is the wax seal placed on the door of Berlioz's rooms by theNKVD the previous night,

which prohibits anyone from entering the rooms pending an official investigation. How

ever, Woland and his retinue move into the entire apartment. This interpretation is sup

ported by Pittman's own assessment: "In The Master and Margarita the devil's dimension

at first supervenes in, and later supersedes, the illusive reality of Moscow" (Pittman 1991,

129). The undivision of space described above is a part of the process of first supervening

in, then superseding, the reality of Moscow. Pittman refers to the reality of Moscow asz'/-

lusive, because it is itself built on ideology that is not commensurate with fact. The

arranged show-trials and constant arrests for invented crimes is a testament to that fact.

In Bulgakov's view, the ideological standpoint that humanity can build a perfect society

without God is also such a false belief.

The next members of Woland's retinue also arrive via a mirror that is also hanging

in liminal space: the front hallway. The positioning of this mirror is significant because it

symbolizes the transformation of space from central to peripheral. The next members of

the retinue—Koroviev and Begemot—arrive through the mirror in the front hall, where

Likhodeev is standing after having made phone call to the Variete:

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However, to go on lingering in the front hall was awkward, and Styopa formed a plan straight away: by all means to conceal his incredible forget-fulness, and now, first off, contrive to get out of the foreigner what, in fact, he intended to show that evening in the Variety, of which Styopa was in charge.

Here Styopa turned away from the telephone and saw distinctly in the mirror that stood in the front hall...a certain strange specimen, long as a pole, and in a pince-nez.... The figure was reflected and then disappeared. Styopa looked further down the hall in alarm and was rocked a second time, for in the mirror a stalwart black cat passed and also disappeared....

"What is all this?" he thought. "Am I losing my mind? Where are these reflections coming from? (Bulgakov 2006,112)

The reflections increase when the demon Azazello arrives:

And here occurred the fourth and last appearance in the apartment, as Styopa, having slid all the way to the floor, clawed at the doorpose with an enfeebled hand.

Straight from the pier-glass stepped a short but extraordinarily broad-shouldered man, with a bowler hat on his head and a fang sticking out of his mouth, which made still uglier a physiognomy unprecedentedly loathsome without that. (Bulgakov 2006,114)

Likhodeev is then transported from the apartment to the end of a pier in Yalta.

Pittman characterizes Woland's space by the inclusion of the fifth dimension,

which for her is central to explaining how Woland manipulates the space he inhabits, by

enlarging it beyond the mundane:

In The Master and Margarita the devil's domain is shown to correspond to the 'fifth dimension,' whose extensive reaches and miraculous possibilities are first explained by Korov'yov. The ordinary Moscow flat, where Margarita arrives for her initial assignation with the devil, has been radically transformed. Korov'yov tries to dispel Margarita's astonishment by assuring her: "Tt is no problem for those who are familiar with the fifth dimension to extend a particular location to any desired degree. I'll tell you even more, my respected lady, the devil knows well to what degree!"' The means by which the constraints of the mundane world can be transcended, both literally and metaphorically, are revealed by Korov'yov, whose statement implies that the 'fifth dimension' is connected with a particular kind of knowledge and resourcefulness. The alteration of a given space to a desired degree refers, of course, not only to the devil's trickery, but also

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to the Muscovites' propensity to divide up rooms endlessly in an effort to overcome the housing shortage. Korov'yov draws attention specifically to the fact that the 'fifth dimension' at once coincides with and differs from the familiar Moscow locations. (Pittman 1991,115-16)

Pittman's statement refers to Koroviev's explanation of the space to Margarita later in the

novel, when she is preparing to host the ball. However, the above interpretation is also

useful for understanding this juncture of the novel. The "transformation" that Pittman

refers to above begins at this juncture. The transformation seems to consist of two ele

ments: firstly, consolidation—the antithesis of division—and expansion.

Koroviev's transformation of space exposes an inherent flaw in the materialist

space that surrounds it: the materialist space figuratively—and in this section literally—

does not contain enough dimensions to be useful. By factoring out the transcendent and

spiritual, Bulgakov, his characters, and generations of intellectuals in the Soviet Union

were deprived of mental dimensions in which to give meaning to lived experience.

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Chapter Four: Competing Spaces

In this chapter I will examine the most relevant demonic spaces: the spaces that the devil

takes up for habitation. I will contrast these with the spaces that are opposites to the dev

il's habitation. These are competing spaces. In chapter three I examined unified and con

tradictory spaces, which are two different and competing paradigms. In this chapter I

will examine how Dostoevsky and Bulgakov use these spaces to subvert materialist space.

This is the actual process of discrediting materialist space, of exposing its inherent flaws.

Dostoevsky and Bulgakov use a method of affliction ritual to expose those flaws in spaces

and in the characters that use those spaces. Because space is given meaning by human be

ings, space and individual or group are inextricably linked.

The contrasting spaces I will examine are: the Griboedov in The Master and Mar

garita and Woland's apartment, as well as various spaces in Dostoevsky's work. Dosto

evsky s use of space is one of radicalization—he advocates a radical spatial practice. Bul

gakov, on the other hand, lives in a society that is defined by fear of radical spatial

practice. The answer could not be sought solely in political factors. Czarist society was

strictly controlled and censored. The difference can be explained by the spatial focus of

the author. Bulgakov displays ethical values similar to those espoused by Dostoevsky.

However, they display different possible spatial practices. Dostoevsky is concerned with

radical usage of space; Bulgakov demonstrates failure to take radical action within space.

Bulgakov is the visionary of despair while Dostoevsky is filled with hope. The devils in

the novel of that title wreak destruction but then recede, and Stepan Trofimovich, who

bears partial culpability in the events they caused, experiences a rebirth. In The Brothers

Karamazov, the devil remains unseen for the most part, lurking in the background but

not holding sway over the space at large. The despair represented by Smerdyakov is local

ized. In The Master and Margarita, the entire country is permeated by evil, and so the

devil moves freely through the country, exacting punishment.

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CHAPTER FOUR: COMPETING SPACES • PETER G. LARSON

In Bulgakov's devil one can see the forces that would ultimately tear the Soviet

Union apart. In Dostoevsky s devil one can see the causes of the failure to stop the Bol

sheviks from eventually seizing power. The devil is a mediator between spaces. Perhaps

that is why liminal space is considered demonic space. As a mediator, he is naturally at

home in the midst of conflict. The devil traditionally may incite conflict, but it is human

beings that must carry it out—a Medieval view. The function of the tempter—the one

who evokes suppressed desire—carries particular significance for the project of under

standing political action and reaction. Regardless the devil's actual existence, his notional

existence presupposes a kernel of evil to exploit within humans. Ritual is a means of or

dering the world and coping with a potentially malignant unknown. The devil represents

that unknown. The first and formost way in which this is represented is the unknowabili-

ty of the devil himself except in cases of direct manifestation.

In addition to the unknown, the devil is a direct hinderance, as previously indi

cated by the explanation ofsatan [satan]. Indeed, that original meaning has been carried

over to the stories of Saint Mark and Martin Luther. Both Dostoevsky and Bulgakov

adopt the position that the devil is an agent of God and tempts mortals only to unveil a

certain "truth" that would be unknowable without hardship.

Understanding the devil as a figure of opposition is one means of understanding

the context in which the devil appears. However, it must be remembered that opposition

is not the sole theory to account for the devil's actions and existence. Conversely, the

devil may act as a divine functionary. This question suggests two divergent worldviews:

polarized and unified. Holders of the polarized world-view see two competing forces—

God and devil—and the earth as a battleground between them. Adherents of the unified

outlook, however, do not see antagonism between supernatural forces, but consider that

evil is a product of human action and that supernatural forces are primarily engaged in

the administration of order within the universe. This outlook extends into the realm of

spatial conception.

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If the universe is seen in terms of conflict, then there are primarily three types of

spaces: good, evil and neutral. If the universe is seen in terms of synthesis and sublima

tion, then space may be less well-defined. Affliction is a result of divine will.

The Soviets' attempt to supplant religious space with a secular space that is modeled on

the very religious space that it tries to supplant:

Religious space did not disappear with the advent of commercial space; it was still—and indeed would long remain—the space of speech and knowledge. Alongside religious space, and even within it, there were places, there was room, for other spaces—for the space of exchange, for the space of power. Representations of space and representational spaces diverged, yet the unity of the whole was not shattered. (Lefebvre 1991, 166)

Lefebvre describes a state that lasts up through the Renaissance. With the advent of the

Enlightenment, according to Lefebvre, absolute space metamorphoses into abstract

space. An analogous process takes place in the Soviet Union of the 1920s. Although

space is abstract in pre-Revolutionary Russia [though, perhaps, not as abstract as in in

dustrialized "Western Europe and the New World] it is taken to an entirely new level of

abstraction under Soviet power. Society was to be organized according to an intricate

matrix of plans stemming from the abstract principles of Marxism-Leninism-Stalinism.

Lefebvre draws a distinction between the fact that religious space allows room

for other spaces, but abstract space has aspirations of homogenization [even if those aspi

rations cannot be fulfilled]. Spaces of exchange and spaces of power are very much

present in Soviet society—and are depicted in The Master and Margarita. However,

those spaces, though incorporated into Soviet space, are elements that are contradictory

within that space. In a society that is supposed to be free of petty bourgeois greed and vi

olent coercion, those two elements are, in fact, quite prominent.

4.1 The Quay

Affliction rituals—both literal and symbolic—are means by which to cleanse the indi

vidual during a liminal experience. Suffering provides knowledge. The liminal nature of

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an affliction ritual provides an opportunity for the individual to free himself from an op

pressive surroundings, if the the individual can metaphorically modify the ritual to es

cape reintegration into society. Ivan Karamazov may achieve this.42 Ivan Bezdomny does

not. He is reintegrated into Soviet society at the end oilhe Master and Margarita,

though with afflictive lingering effects.

When Ivan Bezdomny enters apartment 47, he is confronted by a communal

apartment. Apartments in The Master and Margarita are an obsessive theme for Bul

gakov. For that reason, when an apartment is entered it is always important because it is

always a study of Bulgakov's spatial usage.

Finally the mockery of materialism spirals...into burlesque in the gun-fight between Begemot and the police: the cat, clutching a primus stove (that ubiquitous appurtenance of post-revolutionary Russian life), swings on a chandelier (ostentatious luxury) and is riddled with bullet holes by the police (brute force). The point of this extravagant scene is made quite unobtrusively in the narrator's apparently guileless remark: This was the one and only case, or one of the only cases, in which shooting proved completely ineffective.' This, of course, a figural parody of the crucifixion of Yeshua—and at the same time a declaration of faith that the purges would prove ultimately ineffective in destroying the ideas and spirit embodied in their works. (Milne 1977,17)

When Ivan Bezdomny first comes to apartment 47, he is admitted past the threshold by

a little girl: "Bursting into the entrance, Ivan Nikolaevichflew up to the second floor, im

mediately found the apartment, and rang impatiently. He did not have to wait long.

Some little girl of about five opened the door for Ivan and, without asking him anything,

immediately went away somewhere (Bulgakov 2006, 67). This moment, because of

the crossing of the threshold, is very important. It emphasizes that Ivan Bezdomny enters

a homogenous space, a space of anonymity. If a child can admit a total stranger without

At the end of The Brothers Karamazov, Ivan Karamazov seems to have truly undergone a spiritual conversion thanks to his torment by the devil. However, the process and aftermath of conversion are not explored in detail, possibly because The Brothers Karamazov was meant only to be the first novel of a trilogy.

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the least hint of curiosity, then the inhabitants of that space cease to have any special sig

nificance to their co-inhabitants. Homogenous space ultimately leads to homogenous

occupants, when one may be substituted for another.

Spaces are never empty, neither in the literal nor in the metaphorical senses. Even

outer space, which contains all the stars, planets, is officially defined as mostly empty. It

therefore becomes apparent that spaces that seem empty are never so. Space in the

human context is filled with light (and potentially other types of radiation), sound,

warmth (or lack of warmth), scent, atmospheric pressure, &{c. All factors are important,

because they are modifiers of space.

When Ivan Bezdomny enters the strange apartment, the first thing the narrator

remarks upon is the lighting: "In the huge, extremely neglected front hall, weakly lit by a

tiny carbon arc lamp under the high ceiling, black with grime... (Bulgakov 2006,

67). This space is, from the beginning, characterized by an unusually large and, at the

same time, disorganized, liminal zone. The curious thing about this communal apart

ment, a prototypical Soviet space, is the lack of electric lighting. In fact, there is no direct

allusion to electricity at all. The bathroom is lit only by the coals in the water heater, and

in the kitchen there is also no electric light. Ivan Bezdomny does not encounter explicitly

electric illumination from the time from the beginning of the novel until he enters the

Griboedov in the next chapter. Not once is Ivan Bezdomny mentioned as being in the

same space as electric light while he is in demonic space. He enters demonic space before

sundown, thus has no need of electric light, and when night falls he is already in demon

ic space and is subject to more demonic, less modern modes of illumination.43

43° I say modern and not contemporary, because I mean modern in both senses of the word: contemporary and relating to the historical modern period. Bulgakov wrote at a time when modernism, though officially ostracized by the Soviet Union, nevertheless affected much of the prevailing Socialist aesthetic sensibility. Bulgakov's novel is, although a work of modernism, is simultaneously a work of anti-modernism. It is a rejection of the relativity that would lead to post-modernism.

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One of the hallmarks of Ivan Bezdomny s pursuit of Woland is the absolute cer

tainty with which Ivan Bezdomny believes that Woland is in one place or another, even

though Woland isn't actually where Ivan Bezdomny believes he is. At first Ivan Bezdom

ny is firmly convinced that Woland is in the apartment: "Ivan Nikolaevich was per

plexed, but not for long, because he suddenly realized that the professor must unfailingly

be found in house NQ 13, and most assuredly in apartment 4j"a (Bulgakov 2006, 67).

When Woland turns out not to be there, Ivan Bezdomny is sure that Woland is at the

Moscow River, though Woland isn't:

In the desolate, joyless lane the poet looked around, searching for the fugitive, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then Ivan said firmly to himself:

'Why of course, he's at the Moscow River! Onward!' Someone ought, perhaps, to have asked Ivan Nikolaevich why he

supposed the professor was precisely at the Moscow River and not in some other place. But the trouble was that there was no one to ask him.(106) (Bulgakov 2006, 69)

Finally, Ivan Bezdomny believes that Woland is at the Griboedov: "To Griboedov's! Be

yond all doubt he's there"(107) (Bulgakov 2006, 70). Woland is not at the Griboedov. The

question naturally occurs, why isn't Woland where Ivan Bezdomny believes he is, and

why does Ivan Bezdomny believe in Woland's particular location with such certainty?

The answer lies in the fact that, firstly, Woland is not the devil that orthodox Christianity

propounds. Secondly, this certainty belies the fact that Ivan Bezdomny senses, at least on

a subconscious level, that Woland is the devil and, furthermore, that Ivan Bezdomny be

lieves Woland is the devil. Ivan Bezdomny's spatial behavior is an unarticulated answer to

the question that Woland later puts forth to the Master:

'Do you know with whom you are presently speaking?' Woland asked the visitor. 'On whom you have come calling?'

T do,' replied the master, 'my neighbor in the madhouse was that boy, Ivan Homeless. He told me about you.'

'Ah, yes, yes,' Woland responded, T had the pleasure of meeting that young man at the Patriarch's Ponds. He almost drove me mad myself, proving to me that I don't exist. But you do believe that it is really I ?'

T must believe,' said the visitor, 'although, of course, it would be

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much more comforting to consider you the product of a hallucination. Forgive me,' the master added, catching himself. (Bulgakov 2006, 405)

Although Ivan Bezdomny does not, at this time, express belief in Woland, his actions do

express belief. Furthermore, Ivan Bezdomny does explicitly express belief in Woland in

the psychiatric clinic. Spatial recognition and practice are inherently tied to belief in this

section of The Master and Margarita. The satan that Ivan Bezdomny chases after is a rep

resentative of an integrated spatial practice. It is integrated because it does not conform

to man-made divisions. It is necessary to first understand Bulgakov's affirmation of the

devil's function in order to understand why Ivan Bezdomny seeks for the devil in one

place but not in another.

One of the recurring images of The Master and Margarita is that of incorporeali-

ty. It is first encountered at Patriarch's Ponds when Berlioz has a brief vision of Koroviev

floating in the air, which he attributes to a hallucination brought about by the heat. In

addition to disembodied visions, there are also disembodied sounds. When Ivan Bez

domny enters the apartment, he hears the radio, a disembodied voice: "Behind one of

the doors, a resonant male voice was angrily shouting something in verse from a radio

s e t ' 9 (Bulgakov 2006, 67). This disembodied voice emanates from the radio, but is a

metaphorical marker of demonic space. The speaker that is audible from the radio is like

ly reading a rendition of one of the 1920s proletarian writers. Such poets, among whom

Ivan Bezdomny himself might be counted, fall within the demonic realm because of

their antipathy to the world—a demonic trait. Even if one accepts the paradigm of satan

put forth above, antipathy is still a clearly satanic trait, because it leads to prosecution by

the satan. Incitement to violence is nothing but traditionally satanic. Ivan Bezdomny is

standing in a space that can be characterized as follows:

1. The space is empty except for items that are not serving their intended purposes; 2. It is filled with sound, specifically poetry, but poetry invested with demonic

traits, 3. The space is also filled with things that cannot perform their intended func

tions—specifically the winter hat in the late spring and the bicycle without tires;

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4. The space is also filled with light, though the light is weak it is from a source that is associated with demonic traits in the context of The Master andMargarita.

Ivan Bezdomny seems aware that he is in demonic spacer/some kind, but does not yet

understand the nature of that space. He is convinced that Woland is hiding in the bath

room. This is analogous to the bathhouse as a place of sorcery. It is well-known in folk

lore that, if one wants to be a witch or sorcerer [icoAAyHb] the best place to embark on

that path is in the bathhouse at midnight, the title of volume dealing with magic in Rus

sia (Ryan 1999). The fact that Ivan Bezdomny begins to associate himself with the actions

of a would-be folklore sorcerer is significant in terms of the resistance to the Soviet sys

tem that Ivan Bezdomny begins to display. Ivan Bezdomny has been engaged in a tour of

liminal spaces even before his meeting with Woland:

...the places associated with popular magic and divination are bathhouses and crossroads...churches, cemeteries, barns, thresholds, boundaries, holes in the ice on a lake or a river, hop-fields. Most of these are either the reputed haunts of demonic forces or can clearly be seen to be liminal areas at which a magical other world begins. As elsewhere in Europe holy springs and wells were also common, but their curative powers were sometimes restricted to particular times such as St John's Day.

The bathhouse has an ancient history among the Slavs; according to the Russian Primary Chronicle the Apostle Andrew reported to Rome on the strange Slavonic bathing customs, and its place in a dualist view of religion is recorded for 1071 in the same chronicle when two magicians claim that man was created after a quarrel between God and Satan when God was bathing in a bathhouse.... Lotman and Uspenskii have suggested that in a binary model of sacred locations, places such as bathhouses demonstrate the fate of pagan temples in a Christian world where they become the reputed focus of evil forces. (Ryan 1999, 50-51)

Patriarch's Ponds can be seen as the first of a series of sacred/demonic locations that Ivan

Bezdomny visits; it is analogous to a holy well. The placement of sacred and demonic

spaces into a binary by Lotman and Uspensky is particularly intriguing when viewed

against the backdrop of a non-dualist role for satan. In a non-dualist paradigm, in which

satan is a functionary of God, both sacred and demonic spaces would serve the purpose

of reinforcing the divine cosmogony When Ivan Bezdomny enters the bathroom, he en-

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counters a woman who mistakes him for the man with whom she is having an illicit

affair:

Ivan met with a wave of humid heat and, by the light of the coals smoldering in the boiler, made out big basins hanging on the walls, and a bath tub, all black frightful blotches where the enamel had chipped off. And there, in this bath tup, stood a naked citizeness, all soapy and with a scrubber in her hand. She squinted nearsightedly at the bursting-in Ivan and, obviously mistaking him in the infernal light, said softly and gaily:

'Kiriushka! Stop this tomfoolery! Have you lost your mind?.. Fyodor Ivanych will be back any minute. Get out right now!' and she waved at Ivan with the scrubber.

The misunderstanding was evident, and Ivan Nikolaevich was, of course, to blame for it.(110) (Bulgakov zoo6, 68)

The fact that she uses the formal pronoun [eu] to address the person she thinks is the

man with whom she is engaging in illicit sexual relations means that she is technically on

formal terms with the man—he may be her superior at work, or occupy some other sta

tus of which the reader is not aware. However, this is significant because it alludes to an

inversion of order. Such an inversion is a hallmark of demonic space, which is tradition

ally regarded as an inversion of the cosmological order. Furthermore, the space is explic

itly identified as demonic by the phrase in the hellish illumination [e adacoM oceeujenuul

This space is similar to the Lebiadkins' house in Dostoevsky's.Z)m'/.f. That house, like the

apartment that Ivan Bezdomny has entered, is located on the edge of the city by the river.

It is also a place of mistaken sexual relations or sexual relations on false pretenses. Stavro-

gin is married to Maria Lebiadkina, but she rejects him when he comes to her. The

woman that Ivan Bezdomny encounters in the apartment accepts the unidentified Kir

iushka in place of her husband and Ivan Bezdomny in place of Kiriushka. Dostoevsky's

inclusion of the rejection episode in The Devils may have also served as a metaphor for

Russian society's embracing of artificial radical ideologies while disregarding what he re

garded as traditional Russian values. In the context of The Master andMargarita, in

which society is dominated by Marxism-Leninism-Stalinism, the people seem ready to

accept any doctrine on official command. There is a shift from Dostoevsky's warning to

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Bulgakov's reproach. The two authors, separated by the vast divide of the Bolshevik Rev

olution, regard the analogy from different perspectives.

The matrimonial metaphor is one that is found extensively throughout history.

The Church is described as "the bride of Christ." Though Dostoevsky was not inherently

subordinated to the official ideology of the Orthodox Church, it is a metaphor that he

might have found compelling when used in relation to Christ and the Russian people.

Bulgakov did not employ such images without irony, whereas Dostoevsky's irony, if

present, is so subtle so as to be almost undetectable The apartment into which Ivan Bez-

domny stumbles is analogous to the cottage of the Lebiadkins. This can be determined

by the qualities of the space. Their house is stands at the edge of the town, near the river.

The river in The Devils is an almost mythologized delimiter. It is the boundary be

tween the space of the town and the space of the other. The general, whom Nikolai

Vsevolodovich Stavrogin slaps in the face, and who later comes to enforce moral behav

ior at the fete, states that he does not go beyond the river. Beyond the river lies a German

sloboda. The inhabitants of the town often go there for amusement. It could be consid

ered a demonic space because of its position in relation to the town: it is on the other

side of the river, separated by a natural boundary. The reader learns of events that tran

spire there, but never witnesses those events. It is an opaque space—known about but

never actually seen. An opaque space is one that is not subject to control, as it cannot be

monitored. Demonic spaces are able to resist domination by the hegemony because of

their opaque quality. The General's statement "I don't go there" [fl Ty/\a He e3>Ky] empha

sizes the sloboda's resistance to societal censure. The sloboda beyond the river calls to

mind another sloboda: Patriarch's Ponds. As stated in Chapter One, Patriarch's Ponds

was originally the sloboda of Patriarch Hermogenes.44 The sloboda by nature is a space

that is exempt from certain rules and constrictions: nominally, the obligation to pay tax-

See the definition and discussion of sloboda on page 69.

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es. They are spaces of the other, in that they are often inhabited by communities of non-

Russians, such as Germans, Cossacks and Jews.

Dostoevsky constructs a simple and paradigmatic space: the town, separated by a

natural boundary from the mysterious realm of the other. Ivan Bezdomny journeys from

the sloboda to the river and then back in the same general direction, though slightly

more northward. He does not cross over to the space of the other, but becomes the other

within the space that was formerly his. He becomes a contradiction in space before trav

elling to contradictory space. The atheist and fighter against God [6oro6opeii] takes an

ikon and candle and chases the devil, claiming that he [the devil] will "work indescrib

able harm" [HaTBopHT HeonHcyeMwx 6eA] in society. The devil himself is not a destruc

tive force, but only a tester, and is destructive only insofar as human beings fail the tests

he gives. In the context of The Master and Margarita the test is whether or not a person

will become a contradiction to their surroundings, and thereby a creator of contradictory

space. The statement in the novel that cowardice is the worst crime of all is directed at

those who are complacent in homogenous space. The entire chapter of "The Chase" is a

description of Ivan Bezdomny's relationship with space being shattered. In a way, this is

like Chapter Ten of The Brothers Karamazov: "It Is He That Said It" [3TO OH roBopHAJ.

After a meting with the devil, both Ivan Karamazov and Ivan Bezdomny go on a journey

in search of meaning. Both experience the three phases described by van Gennep: disas-

sociation, liminality, and incorporation. In this schemata, Berlioz is made the equivalent

of Smerdyakov. As demonstrated in Chapter One, Bulgakov originally intended to make

it clear that Berlioz believes in God, but denies that belief for the sake of material

expediency.

Berlioz is similar to Smeriadkov in that not only are they both believers, but they

are believers who deprive themselves of life. Berlioz is sent into un-being by Woland, who

states: "each will be given according to his faith'^1113 (Bulgakov 2006, 387). Though

Berlioz falls onto the tracks by accident, it is he who, through the manner in which he

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led his life, implicitly chooses self-destruction. When Ivan Karamazov tries to describe

the devil to Alyosha, he describes a devil that fits the non-fallen paradigm:

The devil! He's taken to visiting me. He's been here twice, almost three times. He taunted me with being angry at his being a simple devil and not Satan, with scorched wings, in thunder and lightning. But he is not Satan: that's a lie. He is an impostor. He is simply a devil—a paltry, trivial devil. He goes to the baths. If you undressed him, you'd be sure to find he had a tail, long and smooth like a Great Dane's, a yard long, dun color....(U2)

(Dostoevsky 1976, 619)

The description of the devil that Ivan Karamazov provides is Gogolian in nature, anti

thetical to the Byronic-Lermontovian image of the devil as great and prideful.The devil

in fact helps Ivan Karamazov to understand himself, to go through the process of self-

examination and self-confession, a process that is necessary to save Dmitry Karamazov,

and a process that, without demonic prodding, Ivan Karamazov would not have

undertaken:

He is frightfully stupid; but it's to his advantage. He has cunning, animal cunning—he knew how to infuriate me. He kept taunting me with believing in him, and that was how he made me listen to him. He fooled me like a boy. He told me a great deal that was true about myself, though. I would never have owned it to myself. Do you know, Alyosha," Ivan added in an intensely earnest and confidential tone. "I should be awfully glad to think that it was he and not I."

"He has worn you out," said Alyosha, looking compassionately at his brother.

"He's been teasing me. And you know he does it so cleverly, so cleverly. 'Conscience! What is conscience? I make it up for myself. Why am I tormented by it? From habit. From the universal habit of mankind for seven thousand years. So let us give it up, and we shall be gods.' It was he who said that, it was he who said that!"(113) (Dostoevsky 1976, 619-20)

The devil is presented in the same way as the "fool in Christ" [IOPOAHBWH]. He is a jester

that brings forth the truth through tears, in the fashion of GogoYslaughter through tears

[cMex cxeo3b cAe3bi\. Although Ivan Karamazov states that the devil who appeared to him

is different from the Judeo-Christian satan, there is no basis on which to assert that this

devil is different from any other. The desire to see the devil in grandeur "with scorched

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wings" stems from pride and attraction to metaphysical evil along with the desire to

avoid responsibility by placing the cause of evil in an external source rather than in the

human decision-making process. At the end of Chapter Ten, Alyosha Karamazov states:

"yes, since Smerdyakov is dead, no one will believe Ivan's evidence; but he will go and

give it.... Either he will rise up in the light of truth, or...he'11 perish in hate, revenging on

himself and on everyone his having served the cause he does not believe in...

(Dostoevsky 1976, 622). These words describe both Berlioz and Ivan Bezdomny. Ivan

Bezdomny tries to give evidence [noica3aHHe] of Woland's appearance, but no one be

lieves him. As stated previously, Berlioz serves the Soviet system of institutionalized

atheism, but does not believe in it.

When Ivan Bezdomny is engaged in the chase, he is in a liminal state, not just a

liminal space. He is not a coherent entity penetrating into a foreign space, but a still un

defined person who, as he traverses space, is being defined by it.

Although Woland and his suite are ostensibly fleeing from Ivan Bezdomny, they

are, in fact, leading him—inducting him into demonic space. As a result of this induc

tion Ivan Bezdomny is taken to the psychiatric clinic because he literally can no longer fit

into the nominal space of the Soviet Union.

The state of pilgrimage is a "voluntary liminal state" (Turner and Turner 1978). In

this state one disassociates one's self from the normative structures and obligations of so

ciety. In this way, Ivan Bezdomny detaches himself from the prescriptions and proscrip

tions of his official status.45 When transferred to the psychiatric ward, Bezdomny has no

status. That process of becoming liminal is shown in "The Chase." Just as individuals take

on liminal status both in primitive and advanced societies (van Gennep i960; Turner

and Turner 1978), so Ivan Bezdomny takes on his liminal status by choice, seeking en

lightenment. Ivan Bezdomny's plight can also be seen as an affliction ritual:

45' The most effective example of this is when Ivan Bezdomny loses his MASSOLIT membership card. Having lost the card, Bezdomny no longer fits in the Griboedov and is disincorporated.

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Pilgrimage is both like and unlike affliction ritual. It is similar in that in the feudal and semi-feudal societies in which it seems most to flourish there is a widespread belief that illness and mischance are punishments for moral transgressions in thought, word or deed. The agents of punishment are not thought to be ancestral spirits or lesser deities or demons, however, but God himself—though he may be thought to act indirectly, as in the classic affliction of Job, by giving the devil permission to test out a person's spiritual mettle with affliction. (Turner and Turner 1978,12)

The devil is, then, an important element of redemption, whether or not the fall myth is

accepted. Ivan Bezdomny is not coerced into pursuing the demonic trio. He is afflicted

when imprisoned in Doctor Stravinsky's clinic. Like Job, the devil tests him. However,

this test is not about resisting temptation, but rather taking positive action.

The route that Ivan Bezdomny takes—from the outer walls of the old city to

wards the center—is symbolic of many things. Firstly, Ivan Bezdomny makes a general

movement inward, towards the heart of the city. The theme of the retreat inward is a

seminal on in The Master and Margarita.

The two extreme points of Bezdomny's trajectory—the medieval outer defenses

of Moscow on one end and the Kremlin walls, the inner defenses, on the other end—are

themselves quite significant, as they are inherently associated with defenses against de

monic enemies as well as human: "It is highly probable that the fortifications of inhabit

ed places and cities began by being magical defenses; for fortifications—trenches,

labyrinths, ramparts, etc.—were designed rather to repel invasion by demons and the

souls of the dead than attacks by human beings" (Eliade 1959, 49) The center from

which all things proceed is a temporal priority. Thus, Ivan Bezdomny proceeds from an

teriority to priority, symbolically moving backwards in time. Spatially, the pursuit speaks

of a desire to turn back the red tide.46 Time and space, as Einstein demonstrated even be-

Bulgakov's original antipathy towards the Soviet regime is a documented fact. He served in the White Army against the Bolsheviks, and authored the pamphlet "Future Perspectives" [Tpsdyuiue nepcnexmueu], where he lamented the Bolshevik victory. Though Bulgakov later renounced formal resistance to the Soviet state (Letter to the Leadership of the Soviet Union) [ITucbMO npaeumeAbcmey CCCP], the fact remains that he never endorsed the state structure in

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fore Bulgakov wrote The Master and Margarita, are structurally connected. Thus move

ment through space can represent movement through time.

Ivan Bezdomny moves quickly towards the center, emerging from the darkness of

the side street into the light of Arbat Square: "Upset as he was, Ivan was still struck by

the supernatural speed of the chase. Twenty seconds had not gone by when, after the

Nikitsky Gate, Ivan Nikolaevich was already dazzled by the lights of Arbat square'115

(Bulgakov 2006, 67). Previously, the type of space was delineated by the manner of its il

lumination. The abstract space outside of Patriarch's Ponds was identified as being lit by a

streetlight, whereas within the boundaries of Patriarch's Ponds the moon is the identified

source of illumination, constructing an opposition between natural and artificial. At that

point the opposition was determined by the space that Woland inhabited which, because

of Woland's occupation, became contradictory space. This can be expressed simply by the

formulation that demonic space in the Soviet Union is contradictory space. When Ivan

Bezdomny s mode of being in space changes, those changes are demonstrated textually.

The space of the devil in Moscow is lit by moonlight, fire, candles. Efficiently demarcat

ing space that is condoned as a transit route by the official powers, electric street lighting

is a sign of state appropriation of darkness. Traditionally, night is the time for unsanc

tioned activities—especially when conducted in a space that is not lit and made 'safe.' In

the new mode of being in space, Ivan Bezdomny, observing space through a new para

digm, reflects the light through the new paradigm.

As Ivan Bezdomny is chasing Woland, the poet falls and hurts his knee: "Anther

few seconds, and here was some dark lane with slanting sidewalks, where Ivan Nikolae

vich took a tumble and hurt his knee"(116) (Bulgakov 2006, 67). This event is significant

in light of the scene when Margarita first meets Woland, who is experiencing rheuma-

his work. These facts point to a pattern of longing to undo what has been done. Though it is impossible to know the author's mind, his inferences can be read.

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tism.47 The pain in Woland's knee is not caused by the fall of the rebel angels from heav

en. The trope of the lame devil is widespread and is based on the story of the devil's fall

from heaven. Supposedly, when the devil fell to hell, he landed on his leg and was made

lame. However, in The Master and Margarita the reason for the devil's lameness is not

any fall from heaven, but the result of a failed love affair with a witch. It is significant

that Ivan Bezdomny is assigned pain, localized in the same area as "Woland's, that is the

result of a cause that is traditionally assigned to the devil but that is not assigned to the

devil in Bulgakov's novel. The first striking feature of this reversal is that evil is anthro

pomorphized. Conversely, the introduction of the devil's love affair with a witch also an

thropomorphizes the devil himself.

Ivan Bezdomny s fall is very significant, though it does not appear to be so on the

surface. The poet's fall is part of the affliction ritual that he must undergo in order to en

ter into demonic/contradictory space. Before any holy figure can begin work, s/he must

first undergo an affliction ritual, for the purpose of purification (van Gennep i960;

Eliade 1959). Specifically, in my observation, the protagonist of such a ritual must first

fall in order to rise to the task of undertaking the mission.48 It seems that the act of rising

after a fall is a means of investing a subject with the sacred Eventually Ivan Bezdomny

loses sight of Woland, and somehow, instinctively, believes that Woland has hidden in

apartment 47, building 13 of what is now Obydensky Alley NQ 2. [06biAeHCKHH 2.-H

nepeyAoic]. This is a space of metaphorical significance for Ivan Bezdomny: the commu

nal apartment. The theme of the communal apartment is at the heart of the spatial prac

tice of The Master and Margarita. It is the metaphorical representation of Russia under

Soviet control: a space of violence and coercion, of hardship and of shifting divisions be-

47' This rheumatism, as I demonstrate in my MA thesis (Larson 2005), is one of the closest points of identification with the devil o£The Brothers Karamazov.

48' Paradigmatically, Christ first descended to hell after the crucifixion, then ascended to heaven to intercede for the souls of the faithful after an interval of resurrection on earth.

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tween people. Because the inhabitants of a communal apartment must live in such close

quarters, the exterior divisions of property and personal space are lessened, while, at the

same time, increasing internal division between the inhabitants. It is a space of conflict

with one's neighbors.

The theme of co-existence, integration and disintegration within the communitas

is relevant to The Master and Margarita in its function of resistance.49 Throughout histo

ry there has been the tension between official and unofficial. This tension forms the basis

of Bakhtin's work on the carnival, and is continued, probably from Bakhtin, into Victor

Turner's conception of communitas. Although Victor Turner does not write about the

Soviet Union, the structure/communitas tension is especially pertinent in that context.

Soviet ideology attempts to form a communitas to conform to official structure. This

'top-down' approach is antithetical to the concept of communitas, creating dissonance,

which necessitates coercion. As a result, Soviet society as a whole attempts to eliminate

the functions of Bakhtinian carnival, which had always been marginalized. Bakhtinian

carnival is about multiplicity of meaning—the same element that makes space, according

to Lefebvre, either absolute or contradictory.50 An enforced communitas is no communi-

49' Turner & Turner (1978) define communitas as "A relational quality of full unmediated communication, even communion, between definite and determinate identities, which arises spontaneously in all kinds of groups, situations and circumstances (Turner 1978). It is a liminal phenomenon which combines the qualities of lowliness, sacredness, homogeneity, and comradeship. The distinction between structure and communitas is not the same as between secular and sacred; communitas is an essential and generic human bond(Turner 1969, 96-97)." This definition also extends to the phrase location of communitas in society, which Turner &c Turner (1978, 251) define, stating that: "Communitas breaks into society through the interstices of structure, in liminality...at the edges of structure, in marginality; and from beneath structure, in inferiority. Liminality, marginality, and inferiority frequently generate myths, symbols, rituals, philosophical systems, and works of art (Turner 1969,128)."

50' This is my interpretation of Lefebvre's thought. The absolute space that Lefebvre describes is filled with multiplicity of meaning because meaning is generated through symbolic interaction. In homogenous space—the space that abstract space strives towards—symbolic interaction is negated by concrete ideology. When meaning is multivalent, abstract space, in which hegemony attempts to retain absolute control, is pushed towards contradictory space. It is noteworthy that Lefebvre identified homogenous space as an inherently capitalist phenomenon, not as something

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tas at all. The Soviet government attempted to weld divergent groups into one uniform

communitas: homini Sovietici. With Lenin substituted for Christ, Stalin for Peter, the

abstract concept of thepeople [HapoA] for God and the cadre of Communist Party func

tionaries for the clergy, a system of multivalent imagery that allowed for moderate varia

tion was replaced with a police state.

It is possible that one could argue in favor of the medieval and Renaissance chur

ches as being ideological heterodoxies. However, such an assertion would be overly sim

plistic. Although the Western Church in the Middle Ages and the various churches in

the Reformation did enforce a system of doctrine, that system can be seen as a structure

for the maintenance of unity while at the same time allowing for sufficient variation so as

to allow for multivalence of thought. Before and during the Reformation there was al

lowance in the major churches for doctrinal plurality (Pelikan 1978; Pelikan 1985). The

Church has not monolithically controlled thought and practice: "Another force counter

acting local centripetalism in the Catholic Church is the shared repertoire of nonverbal

symbol-vehicles, especially its visual, iconographic grammar and vocabulary, by means of

which a rich variety of iconic forms may be generated in accordance with a few basic

rules, all of which constitute a common language for millions of people otherwise divid

ed linguistically and culturally. Catholic iconography and theology have the same under

lying ideational structure, also expressed in other cognitive and sensory codes, such as a

mystical and devotional literature, liturgical forms, canon law, church music, and the

form of the pilgrimage process itself" (Turner and Turner 1978,190-91). Freedom of ex

pression within the grammar of the doctrinal structures is existent and active.

that was likely in a socialist environment.

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4.1.1 Spatial Disassociation

When Ivan leaves the bounds of Patriarchs Ponds, he departs from liminal space and re

enters the world of contemporary Soviet Moscow. He leaves the anti-rational world and

enters the rational, though while chasing after anti-rational beings.

At this point it is necessary to elaborate on the difference between space and

place. There are various ways of understanding these two concepts, and my method is

based on Lefebvre's formulation. I understand space as afield, place as a location. The

field that is space is comprised of ideology and social usage. Thus, the space that engulfs a

given place is subject to change, and one place may be enveloped by contradictory space.

Space is fluid, shifting, open to interpretation and manipulation. Space defines place.

The designations rational, anti-rational and non-rational depend, of course, on

the point of discourse. In Biblical, Patristic and theological discourses, rationality is that

which does not contravene the primary of principle: God the creator. In materialist dis

course, rationality is defined by and limited to that which can be seen, touched and

measured [as with the positivists] or that which offers an understandable, measurable

benefit to society.

These two understandings of rationality are mutually exclusive. Bulgakov seeks to

reintroduce the religious conception of rationality into materialist-dominated space.

Such an action is subversion on the most basic level, as space is directly connected to the

laws of rationality. Space by nature conforms to certain laws, a feature found in both the

materialist and idealist viewpoints. Those laws, however, conflict with the laws of the op

posing mode of interpretation.

The space that Ivan Bezdomny has been conditioned to accept is materialist

space, in which rationality is based on the two principles of utilitarianism: that which is

immediately good for the individual and that which is good for society. In order to be

able to act in religious space, Ivan Bezdomny must first be initiated into it through ritual.

This pattern is consistent with the rites of any group, from primitive aboriginals to post-

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industrial societies (van Gennep i960). Bezdomny must undergo ritual initiation by tra

versing a labyrinth and then by performing baptism. It is common knowledge that Ivan

Bezdomny's swim in the Moscow River is a baptism, but critics have failed to build upon

that interpretation. My contribution to this trope is to identify the baptism, not only as

an acceptance of the supernatural, but as a complex process that is connected to the oth

er topoi of the novel, specifically spatial practice.

Mircea Eliade provides one possible framework for considering the construction

of sacred space. However, Eliade focuses on sacred/profane as a polar opposition—two

mutually exclusive modes of living. It is my standpoint that the two are connected and

mutually reinforcing. In chapter one I demonstrated that sacred and profane often over

lap—that the borders are not rigid.

Eliade seems to understand profane to mean something such as a mode of living

that specifically rejects the sacred. In this case, Eliade's definition can applied to what I

have placed under the general heading of materialism in this thesis.

In discussion of space, it is vital to remember that, "The multiplicity, or even the

infinity, of centers of the world raises no difficulty for religious thought. For it is not a

matter of geometrical space, but of an existential and sacred space that has an entirely

different structure, that admits of an infinite number of breaks and hence is capable of an

infinite number of communications with the transcendent" (Eliade 1959, 57). The two

modes of being in space are defined as being in a fixed position

Before the chase, Ivan Bezdomny cannot draw any closer to Woland, Koroviev

and Begemot, no matter how hard he tries: "No matter how Ivan quickened his pace, the

distance between him and his quarry never diminished (Bulgakov 2006, 65). After

the chase and baptism, however, Ivan Bezdomny is able to interact with the departed

Master at the end of The Master and Margarita, who is at that time spatially relegated to

Woland s realm. Although Ivan Bezdomny never catches up with Woland, Koroviev and

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Begemot in space, he still is able to partake of their reality through the Master s

mediation.

As Ivan Bezdomny chases the infernal trio, he passes through a labyrinth: "This

Ivan did, and, penetrating the mysterious network of lanes around the Arbat, he began

making his way along the walls, casting fearful sidelong glances, turning around every

moment, hiding in gateways from time to time, avoiding intersections with traffic lights

and the grand entrances of embassy mansions (Bulgakov 2006, 71). The mysterious

web of Arbat side streets is a labyrinth. In the middle ages, a labyrinth was used as a

metaphor for the pilgrims progress towards God and, by extension, the individual's jour

ney towards enlightenment. In distinction from the maze, the labyrinth contained no

dead ends or traps. Ivan Bezdomny, before and after his baptism, navigates this space in

an effort to traverse the same kind of space as Wbland.

This is similar to the major conversions in Dostoevsky's work, such as Raskol-

nikov and the three Karamazov brothers. In these four instances the protagonists cross

over from materialist to idealist space.

4.z Semyon Yakovlevich's Wing

When Ivan Bezdomny chases Wbland Bulgakov demonstrates that the poet must cross

over into the devil's space so as not to be harmed and suffer the same fate as Berlioz. Sa

tan has always been synonymous with alterity. As a symbol of alterity, Satan is uniquely

qualified to subvert Stalinist society in which fear of the other was regularly provoked to

strengthen the governments hold on power, often resulting in the tragedy of the trial of

peers. Such courts mimic the final judgment of Christian eschatology. Indeed, much of

Stalinist practice is eschatological in nature—from the initial battle between good and

evil—the Russian Revolution—when the 'evil angels' were driven out of the future

'workers' paradise' to the final triumph of Communism and the 'withering of the state.'

Because this worldview is based on the 2000-year-old Christian model (Clark 2000) the

devil is its natural enemy, having been imported along with the rest of the system.The

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devils of the Stalinist period—the ultimate others—are the 'enemies of the people.' It is

only the encounter with the 'other' that Ivan Bezdomny is able to become conscious.

Through the act of becoming conscious, Ivan Bezdomny himself enters the space of'oth-

er-ness.'

Similar to Ivan Bezdomny's encounter in dead space and Ivan Karamazov's space

of despair is the space in The Devils that lies between the town and the house of the mer

chant Sevostianov to see the holy man Semyon Iakovlevich, described by the narrator as

"our blessed man and prophet (Dostoevsky 2000, 325). The narrator is invited by

Lizaveta Ivanovna, the local societal luminary of the youth, to go on an "expedition" to

see the holy man.

The space that the narrator describes as belonging to Semyon Yakovlevich, based

on what he has heard but not seen, is liminal, as demonstrated when describing the jour

ney of the fashionable liberal youth of the town towards Semyon Yakovlevich's lodgings:

"they were all going across the river, tho the house of the merchant Sevostyanov, in

whose wing, for about ten years now...had been living in retirement, in ease and com

fort' (Dostoevsky 2000, 325). Thus, the holy man is in several concentric liminal

spaces: he is beyond the river, in a house set off from the main dwelling of his host. In

Dostoevsky, the wings [<J>AHreAb] have demonic connotations. It is my argument that a

demonic space is the same as a sacred space. Liamshin, who had been at Semyon Yakovle

vich's previously, had been driven away with a broom, echoing a kind of exorcism: the

holy man drives the demon—in this case the revolutionary—out of the sacred space with

a broom, as if cleansing the space of unclean spirits [HeHHCTaa CHAa].

The expedition of revelers heads towards the inn, which is located just before the

bridge. The position marks it as a highly liminal space. As stated in chapter one, inns and

taverns have a varied significance. They are liminal, often on the fringes of society yet, at

the same time, can be sacred spaces. Again, this is an example of sacred space intertwined

with demonic space. The inn is further identified as a liminal space by the events that

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have just taken place within it: "When the expedition, descending to the bridge, came

opposite the town hotel, someone suddenly announced that in one of the rooms of the

hotel they had just found a guest who had shot himself, and that they were awaiting the

police' (Dostoevsky 2000, 326). The expedition to see the holy man is a parody of a

pilgrimage. As such, it is especially fruitful for analysis here: parodies are mirror-images,

which are demonic. A pilgrimage is a liminal state in which the individual separates him

self from mainstream society. The company sets out on an anti-pilgrimage, the purpose

of which is merriment and not spiritual enlightenment—merriment, moreover, at the ex

pense of a holy man.

In the liminal space of the tavern by the bridge, the group encounters a young

man who, having been sent to town by his family to buy various items for his sister s wed

ding, gambles away all the money with which he has been entrusted and the shoots

himself:

The room of the man who had shot himself was not locked, and, naturally, they did not dare to keep us from going in. He was a young boy, about nineteen, certainly not more, who must have been very pretty, with thick blond hair, a regular oval face, a pure, beautiful brow. He was already stiff, and his white face looked as if it were made of marble. On the table lay a note, in his handwriting, saying that no one was to blame for his death, and that he was shooting himself because he had "caroused away" four hundred roubles. The phrase "caroused away" stood just so in the note: in its four lines there were three grammatical errors. A fat landowner, who seemed to be his neighbor and was staying in another room on business of his own, sighed over him especially. From what he said it turned out that the boy had been sent to town from their village by his family, his widowed mother, his sisters and aunts, to purchase, under the supervision of a female relation who lived in town, various things for the trousseau of his eldest sister, who was getting married, and to bring them home. Those four hundred roubles, saved up in the course of decades, had been entrusted to him with fearful sighs and endless admonishing exhortations, prayers, and crosses. The boy had hitherto been modest and trustworthy. Having come to town three days before, he did not go to his relation, he put up at the hotel and went straight to the club—hoping to find somewhere in a back room some traveling gambler, or at least a game of cards.(122) (Dostoevsky 2000, 326-27)

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Here Dostoevsky sets up oppositional spaces: the space of the relative who lives in town

versus the tavern, the space of temptation and corruption. The young man, apparently

entirely of his own volition, actively choses to explore the space of temptation, even at

the cost of his honor and that of his family. This scene lacks any external force that might

drive a person to such acts. In this instance, which would make a perfect example of de

monic temptation if a demon were present, the only explanation that can be found are

the thoughts and desires of the individual himself. This fact suggests that Dostoevsky lo

cates the seed of sin within the human being, and if a demon does in fact appear, it is

only to incite what is already present in the individual, not to plant something that isn't

there to begin with. The space is clearly demonic, but it is made so, not just by the pres

ence of drinking, smoking and gambling, but also by the possibility of failure to allow

those things to control a person's will, instead of the individual's rationality controlling

the will.

But there was no card game that day, nor any gambler. Returning to his room at around midnight, he asked for champagne, Havana cigars, and ordered a dinner of six or seven courses. But the champagne made him drunk, the cigar made him throw up, so that when the food was brought he did not touch it, but went to bed almost unconscious. He woke up the next day fresh as an apple, went at once to a Gypsy camp in a village across the river, which he had heard about in the club the day before, and did not return to the hotel for two days. Finally, yesterday at five in the afternoon, he arrived drunk, went to bed at once, and slept until ten o'clock in the evening. On waking up, he asked for a cutlet, a bottle of Chateau d'Yquem, and grapes, and some notepaper, ink, and the bill. No one noticed anything special about him; he was calm, quiet, and gentle. He must have shot himself at around midnight, though strangely, no one heard the shot, and his absence was noticed only today, at one in the afternoon, when, after knocking in vain, they broke down the door. The bottle of Chateau d'Yquem was half empty; about half a plate of grapes was also left. The shot had come from a small three-chambered revolver, straight into his heart. There was very little blood; the revolver had fallen from his hand onto the carpet. The youth himself was half reclined on a sofa in the corner. (Dostoevsky zooo, 327)

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Because of their social position, the members of the company are able to satisfy their

morbid curiosity, regarding with pleasure the misfortune of another human being. What

they do not realize according to Dostoevsky's text is that the situation of the young man

who has shot himself is a mirror image of their own. Furthermore, the young man's story

is one that is highly thematic for Dostoevsky and forms the basis of Bulgakov's oeuvre as

well, drawing upon Dostoevsky and Gogol. The theme in question is that of irrationality,

marker of liminality along with sickness. In Dostoevsky's view, it is irrational to sin, yet

human beings are drawn to sin, even though doing so may not bring any visible benefit.

That question is different from the examination of sin in Crime and Punishment, where a

crime is conceived of by an overextension of rationality. This instance is the reverse. Sin is

never rational. Any rationality that m&y seem to lead to sin is, in fact, irrationality. The

conflictual rationalities expressed by Dostoevsky are, in fact, played out across the entire

spectrum of Russian literature and in Christian society from the Western European En

lightenment onwards.

What is the purpose of sinning? What are the motivations behind it? In The Dev

ils, Dostoevsky asserts that sin arises from the desire to do good, just as one begins from

the principle of absolute freedom and ends with the principle of absolute despotism.

Like Ivan Bezdomny, the young man described in the scene above embarked on a jour

ney—both substantial and metaphorical—in search of knowledge. Both journeys have

demonic undertones or overtones. However, the outcomes are radically different. The

unnamed young man's search for knowledge destroys him in a faustian manner. Ivan Bez

domny, though a character in a novel overtly linked toFaust, avoids the faustian conse

quences of knowledge.

The arrival of the party into the inn in The Devils causes that space to become

contradictory. The primary element—temptation and death—is transposed with the de

risive humor of the company.

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At first glance it may seem that Bulgakov and Dostoevsky are two writers that do

not have a lot in common and that, while necessarily taking Dostoevsky into account be

cause of his place in Russian literary history, Bulgakov doesn't take more from him than

from any other potential influence. However, there are several factors that justify my

approach.

First and foremost, there are similarities of theme. Dostoevsky is the preeminent

author of searching and questioning in Russian literature. Pushkin is more concerned

with description, while Tolstoy focuses on the assignment of significance through ab

solute dialogue. Dostoevsky, however, because of the unique dialogic construction of his

novels, searches for meaning rather than arbitrarily stating it, as do Tolstoy and Pushkin.

Bulgakov engages in a strategy similar to Dostoevsky s. Furthermore, both Dostoevsky

and Bulgakov are concerned with theodicy—with finding the relevance of God in the

midst of suffering and persecution. Both authors write at a time when the concept of

God is under attack and both writers attempt to counter those attacks, not through logi

cal argumentation, but through the depiction of the end results of the examined ideas. If

Bulgakov identifies with Woland, then there is a further parallel with Dostoevsky. The

theme of a writer who is confronted with a 'personal' devil and who argues in favor of be

lief in God is also present in The Brothers Karamazov. Ivan Karamazov matches these cri

teria as well. Furthermore, this situation is analogous to Dostoevsky's own position—

playing 'devil's advocate' in order to make the argument for belief and faith.

There are many superficial points of contact between Bulgakov's and Dosto

evsky's work; though, certainly, there are many differences as well. It is my contention

that the superficial similarities are markers for deeper similarities. These points of contact

intersect in the use of space. In MikhailBulgakovs Etiquette [3muxa MuxauAa

EyAzaxoea], Aleksandr Zerkalov describes some points of contact, stating:

The devil asserts that he said this to the editor, who did not wish to publish his letter in the newspaper... He spoke adroitly, alluding to the wave of atheism and devilry, that had, in Dostoevsky s opinion, arisen in Russia. In Bulgakov's time this wave was, after all, a hundred-fold higher and

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more powerful. Thus, Woland, sincerely this time turns to the Berlioz the editor, "imploring" him to believe that his—not God, but devil—has appeared.

Thus, through distanced and subtle associations with Dostoevsky, appears the first allusion to a devil, related to humanity. It is understood that these associations can be regarded as one more means by which Woland demonstrates himself; like the question posted to the two literati, which is similar to the one that Master will pose to Ivan Bezdomny: Haven't you at least read Dostoevsky?124 (Zerkalov 1004, 51)

Zerkalov's statement fits well with Milne's observation. Referring to the devil who seeks

to publish but is denied allows Bulgakov to illustrate his own position. Koroviev is in the

devil's service because he "unsuccessfully joked about light and darkness" (Bulgakov

1004b, 524-25). Bulgakov is metaphorically in the devil's service, but for a slightly differ

ent—though related—reason: he wishes to discuss light and darkness, but this discussion

is not admitted into public discourse. Therefore, the author must turn to the devil—the

patron of that which is subversive and hidden—in order to continue the theme of the

transitory nature of materialism that Dostoevsky's devil begins.

4.3 Ivan Karamazov's Room

Literature, like any human endeavor, attempts to construct meaning by which to order

the world—in essence, to construct space. In Dostoevsky's work, instead of the pilgrim

moving through space, space is moved around the pilgrim. Turner represents the liminal

state in terms of space.

Ivan Karamazov's room is the site of what is perhaps the most important conver

sation of the novel, and perhaps all of Russian literature: the conversation between Ivan

Karamazov and the devil. What is significant for this thesis is that the devil is actually

God's advocate. The devil is a representation of the sacred worldview of the order of di

vine creation, and an integral part of the path to human salvation:

The involutions of Ivan's conversation with the devil are so intricate that it is impossible to give in brief any adequate account of their complexities. Essentially, however, its aim is to dramatize the antinomies in which Ivan is trapped once his conscience comes into clashing opposition with those

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rational convictions that gave rise to his rebellion against God and Christ. The supreme irony, of course, is that it should be the devil who apparently leads him along the path to faith... (Frank 1002, 678)

Ivan Karamazov's room is a space of central importance to The Brothers Karamazov,

Dostoevsky's entire ceuvre, and The Master and Margarita. It is located on the periphery

of the Skotoprigonevsk—the town in which The Brothers Karamazov takes place. The

conversation between Ivan Karamazov and the devil poses some of the central questions

of The Brothers Karamazov, such as Why is there suffering in the world? What is the na

ture of faith? Does life have a purpose?!^, dialogue between Ivan Karamazov and the

devil takes place after being led up to by three visits to Smerdyakov. The three visits to

Smerdyakov and then the dialogue with the devil are structurally connected as well as

thematically, and the dialogue with the devil is a summation and resolution of these

visits.

After Ivan Karamazov enters his room, he senses the presence of'another,' but in a

vague and visceral sense. Finally a figure materializes on the couch, against the wall oppo

site Ivan Karamazov's bed. That figure is the devil. Critics have noted the similarities be

tween Ivan Karamazov's devil and Woland:

The first part of this analysis of the devil's function in Bulgakov's novel contains frequent reference to Dostoyevsky's depiction of Ivan Karamazov's nightmare, where the devil is also conceived as a witness to the existence of realities beyond reason. Attention is drawn to parallels which emerge from the thematic tasks performed by Ivan Karamazov's devil and Woland. Even on a superficial level, those devils have much in common. Bulgakov acknowledges his debt to Dostoyevsky openly in an episode depicting Aleksey Turbin's nightmare.... Critics have observed that Ko-rov'yov's checked trousers have patently been inherited from the Karamazov devil.... Both devils are shabby in appearance, although they dress up for special 'duties.'... Both suffer from human ailments. Woland puts the blame for his rheumatism on his encounter with a beautiful witch in 1571. Ivan's devil, on the other hand, recalls how he caught an unpleasant cold, when flying through the frosty, empty space in an unbuttoned waistcoat in a hurry to a diplomatic reception. These devils have many human characteristics, but in one respect they differ significantly from the mortals: they are free of the spatio-temporal constraints which restrict life in the

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mundane world. For instance, like Woland and his assistants, the Karama-

zov devil has a habit of vanishing into thin air, flying through space, and

so on. The detection of similarities in the devils' behavior and outward ap

pearance is, however, only of secondary importance here in comparison

with the study of the parallel ways in which Bulgakov's and Dostoyevsky's

devils reflect human psychology. (Pittman 1991, 44-45)

Bulgakov's deliberate references to Ivan Karamazov's devil in particular, and Dosto-

evsky's work in general, suggest an adoption of Dostoevsky's method of creating symbol

ic liminality to accentuate freedom of belief.51

The absence of "spatio-temporal constraints" emphasizes the characteristics of

otherworldliness that conforms to Turner s liminal processes, which are designed to

remove the individual from the "spatio-temporal constraints" of that individual's place in

societal structure, in order to disorient the individual and lead to new perspectives on

that individual's place in the world. The liminal freeing from constraints is further dis

played in that Ivan Karamazov's devil, like Woland, makes pronouncements both about

material proofs as related to belief and against attempting to control faith by force:

"...what's the good of believing against your will? Besides, proofs are no

help in believing, especially material proofs. Thomas believed, not because

he saw Christ risen, but because he wanted to believe, before he saw. Look

at the spiritualists, for instance...I am very fond of them...only fancy, they

imagine that they serve the cause of religion, because the devils show

them their horns from the other world. That, they say, is a material proof,

so to speak, of the existence of another world. The other world and mater

ial proofs, what next! And if you come to that, does proving there's a devil

prove that there's a God? I want to join an idealist society, I'll lead the op-

51' Additionally, the date of 1571 is significant in terms of spatial destruction by fire, which figures so prominently in both The Master and Margarita and Dostoevsky's Devils. In 1571 a Tatar army under Devlet I Giray burned Moscow during a raid. Perhaps Bulgakov chose this date for both its connection with the European Renaissance, with which Woland is so closely tied in terms of clothing both in ApartmentN9 50 and at the end of the novel—in which Woland is dressed in sixteenth-century Western European clothing—and in terms of destruction of autocratic space by a demonic outsider. The space can be considered autocratic because it took place during the reign of Tsar Ivan IV, with whom Ivan Bezdomny meets in an earlier version of The Master and Margarita [see section 2.3 Patriarch's Ponds in the Earlier Manuscripts on page 95]. All these instances allude to Renaissance unified space.

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position in it, I'll say I am a realist, but not a materialist, he-he! (Dostoevsky 1976, 603)

The tension between faith and reason can also be expressed in terms of freedom and

force. In order to conform to the strictures of the liberal movement and of Soviet society,

one is compelled to adhere to a narrowly defined "reason" which is limited to the obser

vation and acceptance of physical laws. In such a system it is unacceptable that an indi

vidual desire to have faith in God. However, adherence to the doctrine of the nonexis

tence of God is also a form of belief. As Ivan Karamazov's devil points out, faith can only

be accomplished by means of a desire to believe, thereby working to subvert the doctrine

that some laws are self-evident and beyond questioning:

"And why were you so surly with Alyosha just now ? He is a dear; I've treated him badly over Father Zosima. (Dostoevsky 1976, 604)

Dostoevsky's devil claims that he would like to embrace divine harmony, but that he is

compelled to actually create temptation and encourage suffering in order to serve God's

plan and give meaning to life: "My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-

hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings. I like be

ing doctored too..." (Dostoevsky 1976, 605). The devil, in essence, desires to be able to

enter sanctified space and perform the ritual action appropriate to that space. However,

according to the theological laws governing the universe within linear time, he cannot do

so: "You see, like you, I suffer from that fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here,

with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we

have nothing but indeterminate equations!... I've grown fond of going to the public

baths, would you believe it? and I go and steam myself with merchants and priests"

(Dostoevsky 1976, 605). The devil states that he, in essence, suffers from "the fantastic"

which he links with "indeterminate equations." Equations, as representations of spatial

coordinates, are, in effect, mathematical symbols of space. The devil, therefore, seems to

suffer from ill-defined space, a category into which liminal space falls. Earlier it was

demonstrated that the devil suffers from his job, which is unpleasant and thankless, but

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absolutely necessary to the functioning of the universe. That job is to test through afflic

tion and to tempt. That job is carried out in spaces that are demonstrated throughout

this thesis to be liminal. The devil suffers from liminal spaces, which are where he does

his job, and which are also symbols of that job—of providing moral opportunity to the

individual, but peril as well.

Ivan Karamazov seems angry at the devil for appearing in a traditionally non-lim-

inal space—his room: "You are angry with me even for being able to catch cold, though

it happened in a most natural way" (Dostoevsky 1976, 607). Ivan Karamazov is suppos

edly angry at the devil for "being able to catch cold" because, above all else, as is made ev

ident in the conversation between Ivan Karamazov and the devil, Ivan Karamazov does

not want the devil to be real, to be capable of material manifestation.

In this section of the analysis, I will demonstrate that devil is the agent of placing

the subject in a liminal state, a ritual-like space of transition. The devil can be considered

a personification of the qualities and functions of that space—liminality made visible.

Victor Turner states that "Communitas is a fact of everyone's experience, yet it

has almost never been regarded as a reputable or coherent object of study by social sci

entists. It is, however, central to religion, literature, drama, and art, and its traces may be

found deeply engraven in law, ethics, kinship, and even economics. It becomes visible in

tribal rites of passage, in millenarian movements, in monasteries, in the counterculture,

and on countless informal occasions" (Turner 1974a, Z31).

The devil's function is one in which he is compelled to perform a necessary func

tion, but simultaneously is censured for the performance of that function. In this sense,

the devil can be said to engender the concept of descent and degradation of status. Such

a conception carries with it a spatial element of exclusion as well: "Ritual degradation oc

curs as well as elevation. Courts martial and excommunication ceremonies create and

represent descents, not elevations. Excommunication rituals were performed in the

narthex or porch of a church, not in the nave or main body, from which the excommuni-

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cated was being expelled symbolically" (Turner 1974a, 232). According to the devil's

statements, he was not punished by means of a fall for actions undertaken as an

archangel. Rather, he is a priori excluded from communion and relegated to the marker

of liminality, to be the manager of liminal space: "But in liminality, the symbolism

almost everywhere indicates that the initiand...is structurally if not physically invisible in

terms of his culture's standard definitions and classifications. He has been divested of the

outward attributes of structural position, set aside from the main arenas of social life in a

seclusion lodge or camp, and reduced to an equality with his fellow initiands regardless

of their pre-ritual status" (Turner 1974a, 232). However, the devil is a special case, and

cannot claim an equivalence of social condition with any man at any time, which falls

into another category of liminality: "As well as the betwixt-and-between state of liminal

ity there is the state of outsider-hood, referring to the condition of being either perma

nently and by ascription set outside the structural arrangements of a given social system,

or being situationally or temporarily set apart, or voluntarily setting oneself apart from

the behavior of status-occupying, role-playing members of that system" (Turner 1974a,

232-33). My position is that the devil is an inherent part of the "structural arrangements"

of the divine order. However, he is a unique case, one who fulfills his "structural" duties

of disciplining and punishing by means of being set apart from that structure when he

interacts on the human level. He has the appearance of status on earth, but is inherently

set apart. Dostoevsky makes the devil's function clear:

So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to. For all their indisputable intelligence, men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course...but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I amx in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. You are laughing—no, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are forever angry, all you care about is intelligence, but I repeat again that I would

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give away all this super-stellar life, all the ranks and honors, simply to be transformed into the soul of a merchant's wife weighing two hundred fifty pounds and set candles at God's shrine. (Dostoevsky 1976, 607)

The devil is the expression of the possibility of free will—either to give in to temptation

and despair, or else to resist it.

"You'd better tell me some anecdote!" said Ivan miserably. "There is an anecdote precisely on our subject, or rather a legend,

not an anecdote. You reproach me with unbelief, you see, you say, yet you don't believe. But, my dear fellow, I am not the only one like that. We are all in a muddle over there now and all through your science. Once there used to be atoms, five senses, four elements, and then everything hung together somehow. There were atoms in the ancient world even, but since we've learned that you've discovered the chemical molecule and protoplasm and the devil knows what, we had to tuck in our tails. There's a regular muddle, and, above all, superstition, scandal; there's as much scandal among us as among you, you know; a little more, in fact, and denunciations, indeed, for we have a certain department where particular 'information' is received. (Dostoevsky 1976, 610)

Above, the devil describes unites of being in the physical world. As an author, Dosto

evsky is concerned with unites of being in the social world, in the tension between the

individual and the group. Dostoevsky always examines faith on a very personal level, one

which defies societal expectations, as in Alyosha's faith in the sanctity of Father Zosima

despite the elderly monk's physical deterioration after death. Similarly, Dostoevsky

speaks of the individual search for faith in defiance of society. When discussing classes of

society that have undergone colonization, Turner states: "These autochthonous people

have religious power, the "power of the weak" as against the jural-political power of the

strong, and represent the undivided land itself as against the political system with its in

ternal segmentation and hierarchies of authority. Here the model of an undifferentiated

whole whose unites are total human beings is posited against that of a differentiated sys

tem, whose unites are status and roles, and where the social persona is segmentated into

positions in a structure. One is oddly reminded of those Gnostic notions of an ex

traterrestrial 'fall' in which an originally undivided 'Human Form Divine' became divid-

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ed into conflicting functions, each incompletely human and dominated by a single

propensity, 'intellect,' 'desire,' 'craftsmanship,' and so on, no longer in orderly harmonious

balance with the others" (Turner 1974a, 231). What Turner describes seems to be Lefeb-

vre's production of non-unified homogenous space, only from the social rather than the

economic perspective. Turner's description is commensurate with the specialization and

restriction of labor in advanced capitalist and communist societies. The devil, like Ivan

Karamazov, has been relegated to a socio-economic role, not a unified existence. Ivan

Karamazov functions as a liberal journalist, who writes without belief, because he is ex

pected to by fashionable contemporary trends. The devil is in the same position. He

would like to sing "hosannah," but cannot due to his social position. In a sense, both the

devil and Ivan Karamazov are fellow travellers in the same space of liminality. Perhaps

that is why Ivan Karamazov so vehemently associates the devil with himself, because,

even if the devil is not merely a psychological manifestation of Ivan Karamazov's psycho

logical state, the two occupy the same liminal space. Both are provided the chance to exit

that liminal space. The devil's will only come at the end of linear time. The devil tries to

help Ivan Karamazov to exit this liminal space by forcing him to overcome his own pride

and doubt.

Well, this wild legend belongs to our middle ages—not yours, but ours— and no one believes it even among us, except the old ladies of two hundred fifty pounds, not your old ladies I mean, but ours. We have everything you have, I am revealing one of our secrets out of friendship for you; though it's forbidden. This legend is about Paradise. There was, they say, here on earth a thinker and philosopher. He rejected everything, 'laws, conscience, faith,' and, above all, the future life. He died; he expected to go straight to darkness and death and he found a future life before him. He was astounded and indignant. 'This contradicts my principles!' he said. And he was punished for that...that is, you must excuse me, I am just repeating what I heard myself, it's only a legend...he was sentenced to walk a quadrillion kilometers in the dark (we've adopted the metric system, you know) and when he has finished that quadrillion, the gates of heaven would be opened to him and he'll be forgiven... (Dostoevsky 1976, 610)

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The story above that the devil begins to tell is another description of a figure in a liminal

state, who must undergo a ritual in order to pass through the liminal state into re-inte

gration. The philosopher described above undergoes a process that is commensurate with

a seclusion rite. This can be a component of pilgrimage, in which the subject undergoes a

ritual in order to achieve spiritual merit. Even though the philosopher at the beginning

denies that there is such a thing as spiritual merit, he eventually gets up and sets out on a

pilgrimage towards a state of spiritual communion with God. It is a quadrillon-kilometer

pilgrimage, alone in the dark: "But in passing from structure to structure many rituals

pass through communitas. Communitas is almost always thought of or portrayed by ac

tors as a timeless condition, an eternal now, as 'a moment in and out of time,' or as a state

to which the structural view of time is not applicable. Such is frequently the character of

at least parts of the seclusion periods found in many protracted initiation rites. Such is

the character, too, I have found, of pilgrimage journeys in several religions. In ritual

seclusion, for example, one day replicates another for many weeks...as in the monastic

life in Christianity and Buddhism" (Turner 1974a, 238). In the case of the philosopher,

the ritual of walking towards the goal is carried out in total seclusion. It is all in darkness,

so day and night have no meaning. Such a ritual, which carries out the function of in

struction and indoctrination, is expressed in terms of space: "In many societies it seems

to be enough that neophytes learn to become aware of the multiple relationships existing

between the sacra of other aspects of their culture, or learn from the positioning of sa

cred symbols in a structure of relationships—which are above, which are below; which

are on the left, which are on the right; which are inside, which are outside, or from their

prominent attributes, such as sex, color, texture, density, temperature—how critical as

pects of cosmos and society are interrelated and the hierarchy of such modes of interlink-

age. The neophytes learn what Levi-Strauss calls the 'sensory codes' of underlying the de

tails of myth and ritual and the homologues between events and objects described in

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different codes—visual, auditory, and tactile. The medium here is the message, and the

medium is nonverbal, though often meticulously structured" (Turner 1974a, 2.40).

"And what tortures have you in the other world besides the quadrillion kilometers?" asked Ivan, with a strange eagerness.

"What tortures? Ah, don't ask. In old days we had all sorts, but now they have taken chiefly to moral punishments—'the stings of conscience' and all that nonsense. We got that, too, from you, from the 'mellowing of your manners.' And who's the better for it? Only those who have got no conscience, for how can they be tortured by conscience when they have none ? But decent people who have conscience and a sense of honor suffer for it. Reforms, when the ground has not been prepared for them, especially if they are institutions copied from abroad, do nothing but mischief! The ancient fire was better. Well, this man who was condemned to the quadrillion kilometers, stood still, looked round and lay down across the road. T won't go, I refuse on principle!' Take the soul of an enlightened Russian atheist and mix it with the soul of the prophet Jonah, who sulked for three days and nights in the belly of the whale, and you get the character of that thinker who lay across the road."

"What did he lie on there?" "Well, I suppose there was something to lie on. You are not

laughing?" "Bravo!" cried Ivan, still with the same eagerness. Now he was lis

tening with an unexpected curiosity. "Well, is he lying there now?" "That's the point, that he isn't. He lay there almost a thousand

years and then got up and went on." "What an ass!" cried Ivan, laughing nervously and still seeming to

be pondering something intently. "Does it make any difference whether he lies there forever or walks the quadrillion kilometers ? It would take a billion years to walk it?,,(130) (Dostoevsky 1976)

Just as the devil is bereft of understanding the intricacies of divine redemption, so too is

Ivan Karamazov at this stage. At this point, Ivan Karamazov and the devil discuss the

meaning of the cosmos and morality as equals, a fact which, for a reason that Dostoevsky

does not explain, infuriates Ivan Karamazov. In a sense, they are equals, because both do

not understand divine redemption. The devil, however, is leading Ivan Karamazov

through a ritualistic sojourn in liminal space so that Ivan Karamazov might be given a

chance to understand it: "Now men who are heavily involved in jural-political, overt, and

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conscious structure are not free to meditate and speculate on the combinations and op

positions of thought; they are themselves too crucially involved in the combinations and

oppositions of social and political structure and stratification. They are in the heat of the

battle, in the 'arena,' competing for office, participating in feuds, factions, and coalitions.

This involvement entails such affects as anxiety, aggression, envy, fear, exultation, an

emotional flooding which does not encourage either rational or wise reflection. But in

ritual liminality they are placed, so to speak, outside the total system and its conflicts;

transiently, they become men apart—and it is surprising how often the term 'sacred' may

be translated as 'set apart' or 'on one side' in various societies. If getting a living and strug

gling to get it, in and despite of a social structure, be called 'bread' then man does not

live 'by bread alone'" (Turner 1974a, 141). Ivan Bezdomny is "heavily involved in jural-

political, overt, and conscious structure" through his liberal journalism. His sickness and

conversation with the devil begins a process of self-reflection about whether or not Ivan

Karamazov truly lives a moral life, and if he truly believes in the ethics that he professes.

The isolation that the unnamed philosopher endures is also applicable both to the devil

and to Ivan Bezdomny. Viewing this process as an isolation ritual not only illuminates

the function of the mechanism that causes Ivan Karamazov to reexamine his self and his

belief, but it provides insight into how the devil, the unnamed philosopher and Ivan

Karamazov are linked. That link suggests, on a very deep level, existential communitas

between those three, based upon their status of beings afflicted by the necessity to wan

der through physical or metaphysical darkness, searching for something with great diffi

culty, sharing a lowered status in the divine order, but with the possibility to increase that

status if they can make use of and learn from the liminal stages of their searching: "...I

would like to point out the bond that exists between communitas, liminality, and lower

most status. It is often believed that the lowest castes and classes in stratified societies

exhibit the greatest immediacy and involuntariness of behavior. This may or may not be

empirically true, but it is at any rate a persistant belief held perhaps most firmly by the

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occupants of positions in the middle rungs of structure on whom structural pressures to

conformity are greatest, and who secretly envy even while they openly reprobate the be

havior of those groups and classes less normatively inhibited, whether highest or lowest

on the status ladder. Those who would maximize communitas often begin by minimizing

or even eliminating the outward marks of rank as, for example, Tolstoy and Gandhi tried

to do in their own persons" (Turner 1974a, 243).

"Much more than that, I haven't got a pencil and paper or I could work it out. But he got there long ago and that's where the story begins."

"What, he got there? But how did he get the billion years to do It?

"Why, you keep thinking of our present earth! But our present earth may have been repeated a billion times. Why, it's become extinct, frozen, cracked, broken to bits, disintegrated into its elements, again 'the water above the firmament,' then again a comet, again a sun, again from the sun it becomes earth—and the same sequence may have been repeated endlessly and exactly the same to every detail, most unseemly and insufferably tedious..."

"Well, well, what happened when he arrived?" "Why, the moment the gates of paradise were open and he walked

in, before he had been there two seconds, by the clock, (though to my thinking his watch must have long dissolved into its elements on the way), he cried out that those two seconds were worth walking not a quadrillion kilometers but a quadrillion of quadrillions, raised to the quadrillionth power! In fact, he sang 'hosannah' and overdid it so, that some persons there of lofty ideas wouldn't shake hands with him at first—he'd become too rapidly reactionary, they said. The Russian temperament. I repeat, it's a legend. I give it for what it's worth. So that's the ideas we have on such subjects even now." 13 (Dostoevsky 1976, 610-11)

The quotation above describes the revelation of the mystery of divine redemption. It is

the end of the liminality stage of the ritual. The participant has been inducted into the

incorporation stage. The devil does not understand exactly what is there. However, he

does understand that he desires to attain this state himself, and that one day it will be

granted to him once he has performed his service. In Dostoevsky s conceptual frame

work, it becomes apparent that the devil, through necessarily circuitous means by which

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to stimulate Ivan Karamazov's conscious reflection, is trying to lead Ivan Karamazov to

wards that same state.

At the beginning of the above quotation, the devil describes the process of the

formation and geological lifespan of the earth. Such an image is consistent with the

course of liminality, which is "...replete with symbols quite explicitly relating to biologi

cal processes, human and nonhuman, and to other aspects of the natural order. In a sense,

when man ceases to be the master and becomes the equal or fellow of man, he also ceases

to be the master and becomes the equal or fellow of nonhuman beings. It is culture that

fabricates structural distinctions; it is culture too that eradicates these distinctions in

liminality, but in so doing culture is forced to use the idiom of nature, to replace its fic

tions by natural facts—even if these facts themselves only possess what reality they have

in a framework of cultural concepts" (Turner 1974a, Z53). The devil's allusion to geologic

forces is part of a rebuke to Ivan Karamazov, because he "always thinks of this present

earth." The natural metaphor is a sign of the devil himself: "One classical prototype of

this revealed duality is the centaur Cheiron, half wise old man, half stallion, who in his

mountain cavern—epitomizing outsider-hood and liminality—instructed, even initiat

ed, the adolescent sons of Achaean kings and princes, who would later occupy leading

positions in the social and political structure of Hellas. Human wisdom and animal force

meet in this liminal figure, who is both horse and man. As is well known, theanthropic

figures combining animal with human characteristics abound in liminal situations; simi

larly, human beings imitate the behavior of different species of animals. Even angels in

the Iranian, Judaeo-Christian, and Islamic traditions may perhaps be regarded in this

way—as ornithanthropic figures, bird-humans, messengers betwixt and between absolute

and relative reality" (Turner 1974a, 2.53).52 The recourse to nature and metaphors of na

ture may be two-fold. Firstly, it fosters humility, which the devil seems to have but which

The fact that angels are related to birds in human consciousness may explain why cats are the favorite familiar of witches and demons, because cats prey upon birds.

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Ivan Karamazov and the unnamed philosopher lack. Secondly, it fosters the spiritual

equivalent of Lefebvre's unified space: "One dies into nature to be reborn/raw it. Struc

tural custom, once broken, reveals two human traits. One is liberated intellect, whose

liminal product is myth and pro to-philosophical speculation; the other is bodily energy,

represented by animal disguises and gestures. The two may then be recombined in vari

ous ways" (Turner 1974a, 253). At the early stage, both Ivan Karamazov and the unnamed

philosopher can be considered to be divided within themselves, split into "intellectual"

and "natural" ways of reasoning. Ivan Karamazov, in his journalism, plays intellectual

games that he himself does not truly believe in [see section 1.4 Father Zosima's Cell on

page 61]. An analogous division or polarity is described by Turner as a precursor condi

tion that frames the proper time to transition into liminality: "I see liminality as a phase

in social life in which this confrontation between 'activity which has no structure' and its

'structured results' produces in men their highest pitch of self-consciousness. Syntax and

logic are problematic and not axiomatic features of liminality. We have to see if they

are—empirically. And if we find them we have to consider well their relation to activities

that have as yet no structure, no logic, only potentialities for them. In long-established

cultural systems I would expect to find the growth of a symbolic and iconographic syn

tax and logic; in changing or newly established systems I would expect to find in liminal

situations daring and innovation both in the modes of relating symbolic and mythic ele

ments and in the choice of elements to be related. There might also be the introduction

of new elements and their various combination with old ones, as in religious syncretisms"

(Turner 1974a, 255). Turner's phrase activity which has no structure refers the period of

liminality as a period that, while a functioning part of the social mechanism—albeit as

one that could be considered as anti-matter to the matter of social structure—is not itself

proscriptively structured: "To my mind it is the analysis of culture into factors and their

free recombination in any and every possible pattern, however weird, that is most charac

teristic of liminality, rather than the establishment of implicit syntax-like rules or the de-

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velopment of an internal structure of logical relations of opposition and mediation. The

limitation of possible combinations of factors by convention would indicate to me the

growing intrusion of structure into this potentially free and experimental region of cul

ture" (Turner 1974a, 155). In the preceding quotation, Turner charts a trajectory of limi-

nal experiences. Initially, the liminal situation is set up as a component of a cultural

structure. As time progresses it becomes standardized, perhaps even to a certain extent

homogenous. However, both Dostoevsky and Bulgakov are writing in the context of

"changing or newly established systems" (Turner 1974a, Z55). Specifically, the changing

systems necessitated the construction of liminal space as a means of resistance against

what Dostoevsky and Bulgakov saw as potentially or actively oppressive systems. The

liminal state into which Dostoevsky and Bulgakov place their characters is characteristic

with a retrogressive paradigm, rather than the progressive paradigm generated by materi

alist ideology: "In everyday life people in tribal societies have little time to devote to pro-

to-philosophical or theological speculation. But in protracted liminal periods, through

which everyone must pass, they become a privileged class, largely supported by the labor

of others—though often exposed byway of compensation to annealing hardships—with

abundant opportunity to learn and speculate about what the tribe considers its 'ultimate

things.' Here we have a fruitful alienation of the total individual from the partialpersona

which must result in the development at least in principle or potentiality if not always in

practice of a total rather than a partial perspective on the life of a society. After his im

mersion in the depths of liminality—very frequently symbolized in ritual and myth as a

grave that is also a womb..." (Turner 1974a, 260). The ideology of the Soviet Union de

manded that every individual be employed in a sector that the state considered useful.

Although such contradictory roles did remain, such as priests and monks, such individu

als were often either marginalized or compelled to collaborate with the state. Further

more, these occupations were subject to state scrutiny at all times. The individual

removal to a liminal state is a step backwards chronologically in terms of spatial practice.

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What Turner describes can also be applied to Lefebvre's distinction between ab

stract and unified space. According to Lefebvre's view, highly specialized division of la

bor and the division of the producers from the consumers on a large scale is a sign of ab

stract space. The medieval paradigm is characterized by less of a division, even though

divisions invariably existed, specifically the nobility, with its military-organizational

functions, the clergy and the guilds of skilled craftsmen and merchants. These divisions,

however, were a very small percentage of the overall productive force (Lefebvre 1991). In

the economic structure that Lefebvre describes, Turner's view of primitive liminal situa

tions receives some modification. Liminal seclusion rituals are primarily the prerogative

of the clerical sectors, with the rites of passage for other estates being such that produc

tion or utilitarian function is not significantly impeded.

The status of liminality is at odds with one of the primary literary movements of

nineteenth-century Russia—that of the "superfluous man." The sub-genre of "superflu

ous man" works can be defined as that of talented individuals who cannot find produc

tive outlets for their talents in society because of the oppressive czarist system, which de

nies the individual political representation and the right of free speech and critique of

that system. Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground is one of the primary works of that

sub-genre, although the main character is somewhat different in that he has few ad

mirable traits or talents. Chatsky in Griboedov's Woe from Wit is a more orthodox exam

ple [see section 3.1 The Griboedov on page no]. In Soviet literature, the hero of socialist

labor is the resolution of the superfluous man. In the liberal literature of nineteenth-cen

tury Russia, the individual was supposed to work with the group in pursuit of an agenda

set by liberal ideas, such as egalitarianism and the "enlightenment" of the population.

However, Ivan Karamazov often encounters the metaphor of the desert, which subverts

those liberal ideas to which he seemingly owes allegiance:

"From the vehemence with which you deny my existence," laughed the gentleman, "I am convinced that you believe in me."

"Not in the slightest! I haven't a hundredth part of a grain of faith in you!"

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"But you have the thousandth of a grain. Homeopathic doses perhaps are the strongest. Confess that you have faith even to the ten-thousandth of a grain."

"Not for one minute," cried Ivan furiously. "But I should like to believe in you," he added strangely.

"Aha! There's an admission! But I am good-natured. I'll come to your assistance again. Listen, it was I who caught you, not you me. I told you your anecdote you'd forgotten, on purpose, so as to destroy your faith in me completely. (Dostoevsky 1976, 215)

The devil's desire to "destroy" Ivan Karamazov's faith in him "completely" is, in essence, a

liminal ritual designed to shake Ivan Karamazov and to compel him to examine what he

truly believes:

"You are lying. The object of your visit is to convince me of your existence!"

"Just so. But hesitation, suspense, conflict between belief and disbelief—is sometimes such torture to a conscientious man, such as you are, that it's better to hang oneself at once. Knowing that you are inclined to believe in me, I administered some disbelief by telling you that anecdote. I lead to you belief and disbelief by turns, and I have my motive in it. It's the new method, sir. As soon as you disbelieve in me completely, you'll begin assuring me to my face that I am not a dream but a reality. I know you. Then I shall have attained my object, which is an honorable one. I shall sow in you only a tiny grain of faith and it will grow into an oak tree— and such an oak tree that, sitting on it, you wil long to enter the ranks of 'the hermit monks and chaste women,' for that is what you are secretly longing for. You'll dine on locusts, you'll wander into the wilderness to save your soul!"(133) (Dostoevsky 1976, 615)

In Soviet ideology, there is no excuse to be superfluous any longer, and the once-superflu

ous man is put to work building communism. In the activity of building communism,

there is no room for liminal withdrawal and isolation. That is, in fact, criminal shirking

of labor. Engaging in such a withdrawal is the means by which an individual can find

freedom in the Soviet system as well as to maintain individual integrity in the nine

teenth-century liberal movement with which Dostoevsky was engaged in dialogue: "It

would seem that there is little or no structural provision for liminality, the social need

for escape from or abandonment of structural commitments seeks cultural expression in

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ways that are not explicitly religious, though they may become heavily ritualized. Quite

often this retreat from social structure may apear to take an individualistic form—as in

the case of many post-Renaissance artists, writers, and philosophers. But if one looks

closely at their productions, one often sees in them at least a plea for communitas. The

artist is not really alone, nor does he write, paint, or compose for posterity, but for living

communitas" (Turner 1974a, 260). The devil in the previous quotations, by drawing im

plicit—not explicit—parallels between himself, the unnamed philosopher, and Ivan

Karamazov, has been engaged in building a small representation of communitas. Similar

ly, Bulgakov attempts to reconnect the Russian people with a form of communitas—the

wider historical Christian world—which official ideology would like to eliminate from

the minds of the Russians and other Soviet people. However, in the midst of this desire

for communitas is the realization that he is, in fact, writing for posterity.

As discussed in chapter one, Bulgakov examines the morality of living in a repres

sive society and what actions the free individual is obligated to take in order to remain

moral. Dostoevsky is examining the same question at a somewhat earlier and less-dra

matic point. The question remains the same: how to function in a society which morality

sets the individual against his conscience? An answer may be found in the concept and

functioning of liminality:

Of course, like the initiand in tribal society, the novelistic hero has to be reinducted into the structural domain, but for the 'twice-born' (or converted) the sting of that domain—its ambitions, envies, and power struggles—has been removed. He is like Kierkegaard's 'knight of faith' who having confronted the structured and quantitative crowd as 'the qualitative individual' moves from antithesis to synthesis and through remaining outwardly indistinguishable from others in this order of social structure is henceforth inwardly free from its despotic authority, is an autonomous source of creative behavior. This acceptance or forgiveness...of structure in a movement of return from a liminal situation is a process that recurs again and again in Western literature, and, indeed, in the actual lives of many writers, artists, and political folk heroes from Dante and Lenin to Nehru and the African political exiles who became leaders. It represents a

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secularization of what seems to have been originally a religious process. (Turner 1974a, 261)

Dostoevsky and Bulgakov are trying to reclaim the liminal segregation of the individual

as a "religious process," if not necessarily one within the strictures of orthodox religious

doctrine. They are trying to engage in a liminal state in order to establish an individual

connection to God. Dostoevsky illustrates this process in the conversation between the

devil and Ivan Karamazov. The devil is the sign of the liminal state, which is necessary for

Ivan Karamazov to break free from liberal trends and discover what he truly believes, to

discover that he does have free will, and to encourage him to mediate upon what he is ca

pable of and what he will do to fully repent his own failures and work to save his brother,

somehow defeating his own pride and self-complacency. This process is what he means

by "the salvation of [his] soul:"

"Then it's for the salvation of my soul you are working, is it, you scoundrel?"

"One must do a good deed sometimes. How ill-humored you are!" "Fool! did you ever tempt those holy men who ate locusts and

prayed seventeen years in the wilderness till they were overgrown with moss?"

"My dear fellow, I've done nothing else. One forgets the whole world and all the worlds, and sticks to one such saint, because he is a very precious diamond. One such soul, you know, is sometimes worth a whole constellation. We have our arithmetic, you know. The conquest is precious! And some of them, on my word, are not inferior to you in culture, though you wouldn't believe it. They can contemplate such depths of belief and disbelief at the same moment that sometimes it really seems that they are within a hairsbreadth of being 'turned upside down..."<134)

(Dostoevsky 1976, 615)

The quotation above can be seen as being related to the Gogolian banality which is the

source of evil in the world. Although the devil describes "tempting" people, the devil

does not seem to take a very active part in the proceedings. Following the pattern of his

"temptation" session with Ivan Karamazov, the devil assumes a function of existential

questioning of an individual rather than actively encouraging the individual to do some

thing. This mode suberts the dramatic temptation scenes of some Christian traditions,

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and focuses on the more quotidian existence as the battleground between morality and

immorality, which is appropriate to daily life: "...conversion of liminality, in modified

form, into a way of life, has also been true of the monastic and mendicant orders in, for

example, Christianity and Buddhism, but the religious state has been there clearly de

fined as an exceptional condition reserved for those who aspire after perfection..."

(Turner 1974a, 261). Dostoevsky mirrors the "conversion of liminality, in modified form,

into away of life" (Turner 1974a, 261) by imposing the devil upon his subjects in banal

form and in created liminal space, that is not a structured ritual, but that is evoked at cer

tain moments.

Mephistopheles declared to Faust that he desired evil, but did only good. Well, he can say what he likes, it's quite the opposite with me. I am perhaps the one man in creation who loves the truth and and genuinely desires good. I was there when the Word, Who died on the cross, rose up into Heaven bearing on His bosom the soul of the penitent thief. I heard the joyful shrieks of the cherubim singing and screaming hosannah and the thunderous howl of the seraphim which shook heaven and all creation, and I swear to you by all that's sacred, I longed to join the choir and shout hosannah with them all. The word had almost escaped me, had almost broken from my lips...you know how susceptible and aesthetically impressionable I am. But common sense—oh, a most unhappy trait in my character—kept me in due bounds and I let the moment pass! For what would have happened, I reflected, what would have happened after my hosannah? Everything on earth would have been extinguished at once and no events could have occurred. (Dostoevsky 1976, 615)

The above quotation represents the segregation of the self from the surrounding environ

ment: "...from the standpoint of structural man, he who is in communitas is an exile or a

stranger, someone who, by his very existence, calls into question the whole normative or

der.... Indeed, if structure is maximized to full rigidity, it invites the nemesis of either vio

lent revolution or uncreative apathy, while if communitas is maximized, it becomes in a

short while its own dark shadow, totalitarianism, from the need to suppress and repress

in its members all tendencies to develop structural independences and interdepen

dences" (Turner 1974a, 268). What the devil describes above is actually a desire to enter

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into communitas with the world of God. However, he is "restrained by his social posi

tion"—his membership in the world of structure. As an integral part of Restructure of

God's world, the devil must perform his function or else there will be nothing to coun

terbalance communitas. By contrast, the society of encroaching atheism in which Dosto-

evsky writes, and to a much greater extent the Soviet society in which Bulgakov writes,

represents an over-abundance of structure, which does lead to either "violent revolution,"

as Dostoevsky depicts in The Devils, or "uncreative apathy," from which Ivan Karamazov

suffers, and from which a host of characters in The Master and Margarita, including the

master and Ivan Bezdomny, suffer.

And so, solely from a sense of duty and my social position, I was forced to suppress the good moment and to stick to my nasty task.... Why am I, of all creatures in the world, doomed to be cursed by all decent people and even to be kicked, for if I put on mortal form I am bound to take such consequences sometimes? I know, of course, there's a secret in it, but they won't tell me the secret for anything, for then, perhaps, seeing the meaning of it, I might bawl hosannah, and the indispensable minus would appear at once, and good sense would reign supreme throughout the whole world. And that, of course, would mean the end of everything, even of magazines and newspapers, for who would subscribe to them? I know that at the end of all things I shall be reconciled. I, too, shall walk my quadrillion and learn the secret. But till that happens I am sulking and fulfill my destiny though it's against the grain—that is, to ruin thousands for the sake of saving one. How many souls have had to be ruined and how many honorable reputations destroyed for the sake of that one righteous man, Job, over whom they made such a fool of me in old days. Yes, till the secret is revealed, there are two sorts of truth for me—one, their truth, yonder, which I know nothing about so far and the other my own. And there's no knowing which will turn out the better.(136) (Dostoevsky 1976, 614-15)

What the devil describes above is equivalent to a state of poverty. He desires to "know

the secret," but this is denied to him by God. However, he is himself in a state of purifica

tion through service. He states that he, too, shall be allowed into the Kingdom of God

and will be allowed to understand the secret of redemption. These tenants, in addition to

conforming to the heresy of universal salvation, is also consistent with Turner's descrip-

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tion of a liminal being who is undergoing a ritual that will conclude with the subject at

taining a higher status: "Ritual liminars are often moving symbolically to a higher status,

and their being stripped of status temporarily is a "ritual," an "as-if," or "make-believe"

stripping dictated by cultural requirements" (Turner 1974a, 233). Part of that state is

poverty. The devil literally suffers from poverty of spirit, because he cannot understand

the divine mystery of redemption. This poverty, which will eventually be removed, ac

cording to his statements, is a sign of the liminal transition in the midst of which he con

fronts Ivan Karamazov: "The third major aspect of culture that is of concern to the stu

dent of religion and symbolism is 'structural inferiority.'This again may be an absolute or

a relative, a permanent or a transient matter. Especially in caste or class systems of social

stratification we have the problem of the lowest status, of the outcast... A rich mythology

has grown around the poor...and in religion and art, the peasant, the beggar...Gandhi's

'children of God,' the despised and rejected in general, have often been assigned the sym

bolic function of representing humanity..." (Turner 1974a, 234). The devil in The Brothers

Karamazov is in a transient state of structural inferiority. He is certainly an outcast. Iron

ically, because he is the poorest in spirit of all of God's creatures, the only one who is not

allowed by divine decree to express the desire he clearly has to worship God, to "sing

hosannah," he may also be the one most qualified to be a "child of God," who endures

spiritual poverty for the sake of service.

"...As soon as men have all of them denied God—and I believe that period analogous with geological periods, will come to pass—the old conception of the universe will fall of itself without cannibalism and what's more the old morality, and then everything will begin anew. Men will unite to take from life all it can give, but only for joy and happiness in the present world. Man will be lifted up with a spirit of divine titanic pride and the man-god will appear. From hour to hour extending his conquest of nature infinitely by his will and his science, man will feel such lofty joy from hour to hour in doing it that it will make up for all his old dreams of the joys of heaven. Everyone will know that he is mortal and will accept death proudly and serenely like a God. His pride will teach him that it's useless for him to repine at life's being a moment, and he will love his brother without need of a reward....(137) (Dostoevsky 1976, 616)

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This process of questioning the self and one's basic beliefs about the world continues, and

moves towards the desire for belief:

The question now is, my young thinker reflected, is it possible that such a period will ever come? If it does, everything is determined and humanity is settled forever. But as, owing to man's inveterate stupidity, this cannot come about for at least a thousand years, everyone who recognizes the truth even now may legitimately order his life as he pleases, on the new principles. In that sense, 'all things are lawful' for him. What's more, even if this period never comes to pass, since there is no God and no immortality anyway, the new man may well become the man-god, even if he is the only one in the whole world, and promoted to his new position, he may lightheartedly overstep all the barriers of the old morality of the old slave-man, if necessary. There is no law for God. Where God stands, the place is holy. Where I stand will be at once the foremost place...'all things are lawful' and that's the end of it!( (Dostoevsky 1976, 616)

Near the end of the interview, the narrator notes that "the devil sat "in the corner"

(Dostoevsky 1976, 619).

The final significance of Ivan Karamazov's conversation with the devil is ex

pressed by Ivan Karamazov to his brother Alyosha:

"He told me a great deal that was true about myself, though. I would never have owned it to myself. Do you know, Alyosha," Ivan added in an intensely earnest and confidential tone. "I should be awfully glad to think that it was he and not I."(139) (Dostoevsky 1976, 620)

Ivan Karamazov's reaction to this visit by the devil is representative of the final break

down of Ivan Karamazov's pride and self-confidence. Previously, even after the final con

versation with Smerdyakov, Ivan Karamazov had felt great self-satisfaction with his deci

sion to testify, and either did not realize or hid from himself the fact that he did not go

far enough in his resolution. It took the conversation with the devil, and the great an

guish that Ivan Karamazov felt while following the devil in a probing self-analysis, that

Ivan Karamazov finally overcame his pride, an act in which Smerdyakov failed.

Smerdyakov hung himself out of pride and defiance or despair, making himself immune

to the temporal courts of inquiry. Ivan Karamazov, however, faces himself with the devil's

help.

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Demonic dwellings are, both literally and figuratively, the center of demonic ac

tivity. After Ivan Bezdomny's demise, Woland and his suite take up residence, as

promised, in Apartment NQ 50. This space becomes the quintessential contradictory

space. As such, it is easily the most important space in The Master and Margarita. Con

tradictory space is made contradictory by a powerful field of meaning that runs contrary

to the surrounding space of ideological orientation. Any powerfulfield of meaning can

not have sprung up in a vacuum; it can only be invested with meaning if it uses symbol

ism to draw upon other generators of meaning.

The closest affiliated generators of meaning for Woland s Apartment Ns 50 are,

naturally, other demonic spaces in Russian literature. Because Bulgakovs demonic space

is a redaction of Dostoevsky's, the most significant spaces for comparing with Apartment

NQ 50 are: Ivan Karamazov's room, when he is visited by the devil; the Underground

Man's 'underground;' and spaces in The Devils.

The demonic, in tradition as well in the works of Dostoevsky and Bulgakov, sur

rounds the state of illness or the condition of being sick. Illness is generally considered a

liminal state. In The Master and Margarita, The Devils, The Brothers Karamazov and

Notes from Underground, the characters that interact with the demonic are in a state of

illness. The Master is in a psychiatric ward. Stepan Trofimovich in The Devils dies of ill

ness after the Walpurgisnachtoitht fete. The Underground Man, who seems generally ill

anyway, supposedly suffers from liver disease. Ivan Karamazov sees the devil while

feverish.

As stated earlier in this thesis, human beings are demonic and many characters

with classically demonic traits reinforce sacred space, which is inherently related to and

performs the same function as demonic space. Thus, in The Devils, the young members of

the minor nobility are the devils, and the holy fool, Semyon Yakovlevich, though he has

many demonic traits, is the counterpart to the devils. As I demonstrate in chapter three

of this thesis, the company of "friends" enters a space of temptation and death at the inn

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on the road just before the bridge—a highly liminal zone. It is highly unlikely that Dos-

toevsky includes such a scene for no reason. Why does Dostoevsky produce this particu

lar scene at this particular point in the narrative? It is as if the scene at the inn is some

sort of prelude to what follows: the meeting with Semyon Yakovlevich. In terms of the

space of the novel's narration the scene at the inn is a liminal zone, thus adding one fur

ther layer of liminality. The following questions logically follow:

i. How does the scene at the inn foreshadow the scene with Semyon Yakovlevich? 2. How do the two scenes together aid in interpreting the significance of the entire

section? 3. What does this chapter add to the understanding of (a) the novel; and (b) the

subject matter in general?

The scene at Semyon Yakovlevich's is analogous in a way to the chapter "At Tikhon's"

that was edited out of The Devils. In both chapters, a holy man is overtly portrayed in a

less-than-flattering light. In both chapters, that holy man hears confessions of a sort. The

difference between the two spaces is that Semyon Yakovlevich's is contradictory, while

the monastery in "At Tikhon's" is not. As a contradictory space, Semyon Yakovlevich's

dwelling is a generator of resistance to the struggle between the reactionary forces and

the nihilists and the liberal intelligentsia. It is a space in which socio-economic status has

no fixed value. Upon departing from the inn where the suicide took place, the narrator

states: "For the remaining half of the way, the general merriment, laughter, and brisk

chatter became almost twice as lively (Dostoevsky 2000, 32.8). The mathematical

proportion here—twice the laughter over half the distance—signifies the gradual

progress of the company into the liminal zone, at the center of which is Semyon Yakovle

vich. This is very similar to the journey Ivan Bezdomny undertakes in "The Chase," as he

grows closer to Woland—not in the literal but in the metaphorical sense. Whereas Ivan

Bezdomny increases in worthiness as he penetrates deeper into demonic space, the

friends in The Devils decrease in worthiness. Here, worthiness can be defined as openness

to the divine in the sense of Eliade and Turner: the subjugation of the self to faith;

specifically, faith in a power beyond the laws of nature. This definition is critical to both

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Dostoevsky and to Bulgakov, as it summarizes the difference between materialism, with

its offshoot of nihilism, and the resistance that Dostoevsky and Bulgakov wish to offer in

order to escape the ideological subjugation of the individual.

The subjugation of the self to the laws of nature does not require any great effort

of the self, as it is the path of least resistance. The path of least resistance is the crux of

Bulgakov's stating that cowardice is the worst of all sins. Thus, Bulgakov implicitly,

though not explicitly, equates lack of faith with cowardice and with subjugation to Sovi

et suppression.

The continuation of the dinner by the members of MASSOLIT echoes the reaction

of the members of the company in The Devils, when they actually eat the food of the

dead man. Once again, the reader is shown a space primarily characterized by consump

tion, specifically by group consumption at the expense of the individual. In The Devils, a

representative of the group eats the dead man's food while simultaneously on the

metaphorical level the pain and the death of the other is consumed as entertainment.

The traditional concept of hell renders it a space of consumption, too. Fire, as a means of

consumption, also performs a purification function, which is absent in other instances of

consumption, such as this scene and the scene in The Master and Margarita in which,

upon learning of Berlioz's death, the MASSOLIT members continue to consume their

food. MASSOLIT itself exists to produce text for mass consumption. However, as a

producer it fails in comparison to the production of the Master because the production

of MASSOLIT, as determined by political factors, is based on conformity instead of supe

rior quality. The primal source of heat and light—fire—is symbolically asserting itself

over the controlled and regulated Soviet means of production of heat and light: electrici

ty. Heat and light and the different means of their production is a metaphor for ideolo

gy, specifically faith versus materialist rationality based upon observable phenomenon.

The Soviets have tried to extinguish faith and replace it with a controlled and regulated

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"faith" in the progress of Marxism. However, faith reasserts itself in ways dangerous for

the Soviet authorities, such as in literature.

The very notion of superior quality presupposes a hierarchy. The existence of a hi

erarchy resonates with Eliade's conception of religious space as a space of orientation. Al

though a hierarchy does exist in materialist space, it is an inversion of the traditional reli

gious hierarchy. An inversion that is at once a parody is demonic.

According to the Dostoevskian paradigm of artistic production, the individual

undergoes what Victor Turner would identify as an affliction ritual. Questioning the So

viet regime, Ivan Bezdomny willfully undergoes a ritual of affliction in search of some

sort of truth other than that which is officially sanctioned. Ivan Bezdomny passes from a

transitory to an non-transitory world. It is the elimination of transitoriness and relativity

that causes affliction in the space to which Ivan Bezdomny has transitioned at this point.

Ivan Karamazov undergoes a similar process. Before arriving in the provincial village of

his father, Ivan Karamazov writes articles on matters concerning Church and State with

out taking a recognizable position, so that both sides think he is a supporter of their po

litical agenda. Ivan Bezdomny does not generate space of orientation as a materialist but

rather inhibits orientation.

4.3.1 Alternative Space

Henri Lefebvre's book The Production of Space (i9S>i)isa seminal critique of spatial prac

tice. Lefebvre describes the evolution of space from a simple and unified social entity in

the classical and medieval periods to a contested ground in the power relations of cap

italism in the contemporary age. I will continue this line of reasoning, arguing that the

Soviet Union employed strategies of spatial dominance far more draconian than that of

Lefebvre's capitalist order, and that Bulgakov employed strategies of resistance similar to

what Lefebvre describes in his own context.

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In addition to Lefebvre's categories oiunified, homogenous, abstract & contradicto

ry space, I will provide my own causes for the observable products. I also examine space

using Eliade's terms, which proceed from van Gennep's formulation of liminality. Eliade

finds a distinction between "religious" and "non-religious man."

Katerina Clark (2000) maintains that Soviet literature is based in medieval litera

ture, and provides examples of how canonical socialist works mirror medieval literary

etiquette. Although Clark does not specifically mention Eliade's work, she redefines the

inherent distinction between religious @) non-religious.

Based on Clark's assertions, I argue that Bulgakov seeks to undermine Soviet lit

erary conventions through attacking those conventions at the root, where they are joined

with medieval typology. The devil, as the traditional adversary of the heroes of medieval

typology, is uniquely suited to this task.

The difficulty with Eliade's division of the world into two categories breaks down

in light of the observation that even materialist ideologies can be called religious in a

broad anthropological sense. If such a formulation can be extended to mean that the ide

ology of materialism can be reduced to znalterity of belief, then, if that belief is viewed

within the framework of doctrinal Christianity, the entirely materialist system is

reducible to heresy. Furthermore, space is again unified into one coherent framework

with doctrinal norms and heretical aberrations. In fact, space is unified from either per

spective. From the materialist side, religious thought was but one primitive step on the

road to final materialist awareness. From the idealist side, materialist society is but a tem

poral, heretical aberration.

The space that the Soviet authorities strive to create fits the description of Lefeb

vre's concept of abstract space: a space that originated with the rise of capitalism, in

which space became subject to power relations that controlled those who sought to use

it. Soviet abstract space is repressive, so Bulgakov seeks to subvert it through generating

contradictory space. This is a subversive space that resists control.

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The key to understanding exactly how and with what aims Bulgakov modifies

spatial practice and subverts the form of the socialist canon lies in understanding the

connection between Bulgakov and Dostoevsky. Fyodor Dostoevsky conducted a

polemic against the radical materialists of the nineteenth century, the ideology of whom

contributed to Leninism. The demonizing of religion and its dangerous consequences is

a cardinal theme of both writers.

Bulgakov draws upon the works of Dostoevsky for a form in which to fashion his

devil. The devil is key because he is the embodiment of resistance to materialism and

temporal power but of submission to and enforcement of the Christian [anti-materialist]

order. This form of the devil is most prominent in The Brothers Karamazov. Further

more, Bulgakov draws upon The Devils in constructing an anti-materialist polemic. Once

again, space is necessary to understanding this dynamic, because Dostoevsky creates sym

bolic spaces that resist materialist manipulation. Those spaces grow into Bulgakov's

spaces of resistance.

For the purpose of my study I will approach the work with the Formalist supposi

tion that nothing in the novel is included without a reason and that all elements are part

of a unified design. This unified design can be understood through understanding the

spaces of the novel.

The basic premise of this thesis as concerns Christian doctrine is that Satan is a

"divine functionary" (Kelly zoo6) who carries out God's will and is, in fact, a central part

of divine order. Such a formulation is based on consideration of the doctrines of free will

and of knowledge. There is no knowledge without suffering and no free will without

temptation. Utopian systems and the subsequent materialist hegemony of the Russian

Empire and Soviet Union are founded on the principle of the exclusion of free will and

control and reduction of knowledge. As such, in Bulgakov's and Dostoevsky's efforts, the

devil is more than ever necessary in order to safeguard the proper functioning of the exis

tence of humanity.

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In this instance, is, in this paradigm, embedded within ordinary space, the space

of the 'other' conflicts with the space of the official order. Such a notional space is espe

cially intolerable to the authorities and especially subversive by its very existence. How

ever, the history of space is filled with this dichotomy—the interaction between sacred

and profane space. Sometimes that interaction is complementary (Kiimin 2005), some

times it is antagonistic. In the case of sacred space versus the profane space of the official

Soviet Union, the sacred/profane relationship is clearly antagonistic.

In language that seems to prefigure Lefebvre's, Eliade defines space in terms of ho

mogeneity/heterogeneity: "For religious man, space is not homogeneous; he experiences

interruptions, breaks in it; some parts of space are qualitatively different from others"

(Eliade 1959, 2.0). Whereas Lefebvre defines homogenous space as the space that has been

co-opted by capitalism and abstracted from the everyday lives of the people, Eliade

identifies homogenous space with profane space: "There is, then, a sacred space, and

hence a strong, significant space; there are other spaces that are not sacred and so are

without structure or consistency, amorphous. [...] For religious man, this spatial non-ho

mogeneity finds expression in the experience of an opposition between pace that is sa

cred—the only real and really existing space—and all other space, the formless expanse

surrounding it" (Eliade 1959, 20). Heterogeneous space—again foreshadowing Lefebvre's

formulations—are caused by ruptures; however, these ruptures occur on a very basic lev

el: "For it is the break effected in space that allows the world to be constituted, because it

reveals the fixed point, the central axis for all future orientation. When the sacred mani

fests itself in any hierophany, there is a break in the homogeneity of space. In the homo

geneous and infinite expanse, in which no point of reference is possible and hence no

orientation can be established, the hierophany reveals an absolute fixed point, a center"

(Eliade 1959, 21). This is, for Eliade, the essence of what sacred space is: the discovery of a

fixed center, revealed by the ineffable, by which humans may orient themselves. Material

ism destroys that frame of reference. Although humanity, in the materialist restructuring

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of space, is placed at the center, that center, in my reading, is not fixed, thereby denying

the subject of any truly fixed frame of reference. As I stated above, the official powers at

tempted to place a pseudo-religious framework over the religious foundation of society:

"Yet this experience of profane space still include values that to some extent recall the

non-homogeneity peculiar to the religious experience of space. There are, for example,

privileged places, qualitatively different from all others" (Eliade 1959,14). It is these

places that approximate Lefebvre's formulation in effect if not in cause. The result of

both causes a space that lacks differentiation. Eliade specifically links the lack of differen

tiation to the lack of fixed reference points in homogeneous [i.e. profane] space.

It is problematic to equate profane space^r se with lack of a fixed reference point

due to the problems in defining profane space itself. As previously demonstrated, sacred

and profane space did not historically represent diametrically opposed views of the

world (Kumin 200s), but rather different modes of actualizing one worldview. I consider

this distinction to be the underlying unity of space that was eventually lost the farther

Western European culture moved away from the Enlightenment. The blending of sacred

and secular challenges Eliade's definition o£ secular as that which is not religious. Eliade

does not define religious in a manner that can be used to assert, with any certainty, that a

space that is ordinary considered secular does not, in fact, further religious space. As

Kiimin states, quoted in chapter one of this thesis, lines between church and public life

cannot be neatly demarcated, and are necessarily mutually reinforcing. Why doesn't Eli

ade take these facts into account, insisting instead on radical demarcation betwcensacred

& profane? It is possible he holds a different conception ofprojane than that which

means secular, which I understand as not formally belonging to the organization of the

church.

The Eastern Church, being less fluid than the Western, did not experience the

radical polarization of sacred versus profane and the separation of Church and secular

State. For that reason, the cataclysms in space described by Lefebvre and Eliade would

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have been delayed until 1917, when a state that ostensibly derived its authority from God

was replaced by one that sought to nullify God, partially as a vestige of that state.

The devil is the best-qualified individual for bridging the gap between sacred and

profane and for unifying spatial practice, due to his position on the threshold: To exemplify the non-homogeneity of space as experienced by nonreli-gious man, we may turn to any religion. We will choose an example that is accessible to everyone—a church in a modern city. For a believer the church shares in a different space from the street in which it stands. The door that opens on the interior of the church actually signifies a solution of continuity. The threshold that separates the two spaces also indicates the distance between two modes of being, the profane and the religious. The threshold is the limit, the boundary, the frontier that distinguishes and opposes two worlds—and at the same time the paradoxical place where those worlds communicate, where passage from the profane to the sacred world becomes possible.

A similar ritual function falls to the threshold of the human habitation, and it is for this reason that the threshold is an object of great importance. Numerous rites accompany passing the domestic threshold—a bow, a prostration, a pious touch of the hand, and so on. The threshold has its guardians—gods and spirits who forbid entrance both to human enemies and to demons and the powers of pestilence... The threshold, the door show the solution and continuity in space immediately and concretely; hence their great religious importance, for they are symbols and at the same time vehicles of passage from the one space to the other. (Eliade 1959, 24-25)

Eliade surmises a lack of connection between the fixed points of religious man' and the

variable points of'profane man.' The devil mediates between these two modes of spatial

orientation. For my purposes in this dissertation, the threshold is of particular

importance.

In addition to two different spaces, Eliade makes a distinction between religious

and profane man. In this formulation, space seems to be determined by the individual

user:

But since religious man cannot live except in an atmosphere impregnated with the sacred, we must expect to find a large number of techniques for consecrating space. As we saw, the sacred is pre-eminently the real... Religious man's desire to live in the sacred is in fact equivalent to his desire to

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take up his abode in objective reality, not to let himself be paralyzed by the never-ceasing relativity of purely subjective experiences, to live in a real and effective world, and not in an illusion. This behavior...is particularly evident in his desire to move about only in a sanctified world, that is, in a sacred space. This is the reason for the elaboration of techniques of orientation which, properly speaking, are techniques for the construction of sacred space. But we must not suppose that human work is in question here, that it is through his own efforts that man can consecrate a space. In reality the ritual by which he constructs a sacred space is efficacious in the measure in which it reproduces the work of the gods. (Eliade 1959, 28-29)

The statement that 'religious man' must live in a sacred context is a sign of radical alterity,

the application of which to the context of the Soviet Union suggests already by itself a

divided space, fractured on a massive scale and over which the official temporal powers

had, in fact, no power. Through the consecration of space, that part of the population

that did not reject spiritual values was engaged in active resistance against the materialist

dogmatic structure, whether or not the resistance was enacted consciously or

subconsciously.

4.4 The Metropolis

In this section I will examine the Metropol—the inn at which Alyosha converses with

his brother Ivan about God and morality, before the murder of Fyodor Karamazov. I will

show the Metropol to be very similar to Ivan Karamazov's room and Patriarch's Ponds in

function. They are spaces of debate and questioning, in which affliction is used to tempt

the individual with the removal of that affliction in order to gain peace, but at the price

of contravening the moral structure of the world. In this case, Ivan Karamazov is search

ing for a way to dispense with the responsibility of moral conduct, which he finds intel

lectually burdensome because he feels distress at a perceived lack of unity between what

he considers the world should be and what it is.

The Metropol is very similar in function to Ivan Karamazov's room, in that it is a

space of inquiry into the tension between doubt and faith. Specifically, Alyosha is trying

to convince his brother of the necessity of faith.

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The first major indication of the Metropol is when Alyosha is seeking his broth

ers, and encounters Smerdyakov, whom he asks about his brothers' location:

"Brother Ivan invited Dmitri to the restaurant today?" repeated Alyosha quickly.

Just so, sir. "The Metropolis tavern in the marketplace?" "The very same, sir." "That's quite likely," cried Alyosha, much excited. "Thank you,

Smerdyakov; that's important. I'll go there at once." "Don't betray me, sir," Smerdyakov called after him. "Oh, no, I'll go to the tavern as though by chance. Don't be

anxious." "But wait a minute, I'll open the gate to you," cried Marya

Kondratyevna. "No; it's a short cut, I'll get over the fence again." What he had heard threw Alyosha into great agitation. He ran to

the tavern. It was impossible for him to go into the tavern in his monastic dress, but he could inquire at the entrance for his brothers and call them down. But just as he reached the tavern, a window was flung open, and his brother Ivan called down to him from it.

"Alyosha, can you come up here to me now or not? I would be awfully grateful."

"To be sure I can, only I don't quite know whether in this dress..." "But I am in a room apart. Come up the steps; I'll run down to

meet you." "A minute later Alyosha was sitting beside his brother. Ivan was

alone, dining. (Dostoevsky 1976, 209)

Smerdyakov's request not to "betray" him suggests that Ivan, by means of his conversa

tions with Smerdyakov concerning the nature of morality, has already entered into some

sort of implicit compact with him.

Ivan was not, however, in a separate room, but only in a place shut off by a screen, so that it was unseen by other people in the room. It was the first room from the entrance with a buffet along the wall.... But there was the usual bustle going on in the other rooms of the tavern; there were shouts for the waiters, the sound of bottles being opened, the click of billiard balls, the drone of the organ. (Dostoevsky 1976,110)

Ivan sits in a divided space, set off from the surrounding space of the tavern. This space is

filled with various sounds, including the sound of the organ. Dostoevsky's antipathy to-

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wards the form of Roman Catholic divine worship may have contributed to his accentu

ation of an organ in a tavern—even though a secular variant of the instrument may have

been widely distributed in such settings. Dostoevsky embues the environment with a de

monic overtone through the principle of demonic inversion: a symbol of sacred space is

incorporated into demonic space. Spatial inversion is a precursor of intellectual inver

sion. Ivan Karamazov places love of physical sensations, romantic love, and the absence

of "disillusionment" of the masses above spiritual values:

Do you know I've been sitting here thinking to myself: that if I didn't believe in life, if I lost faith in the woman I love, lost faith in the order of things, were convinced in fact that everything is a disorderly, damnable, and perhaps devil-ridden chaos, if I were struck by every horror of man's disillusionment—still I should want to live and, having once tasted of the cup, I would not turn away from it till I had drained it!...

The centripetal force on our planet is still fearfully strong, Alyosha, I have a longing for life, and I go on living in spite of logic. Though I may not believe in the order of the universe, yet I love the sticky little leaves as they open in spring. (Dostoevsky 1976, 210)

Ivan Karamazov describes himself in terms similar to, but opposed to, the story of the

philosopher that the devil relates to him later in the novel [see the legend of the

philosopher on page 175]. Ivan continues to joke about spiritual matters:

But why are you so worried about my going away? We've plenty of time before I go, an eternity !(144) (Dostoevsky 1976, 214)

Alyosha responds to Ivan's parodical inversion of spiritual matters with a comment about

the place in which they find themselves:

Of course I am just such a little boy as you are, only not a novice. And what have Russian boys been doing up till now, some of them, I mean? In this stinking tavern, for instance, here, they meet and sit down in a corner. They've never met in their lives before and, when they go out of the tavern, they won't meet again for forty years. And what do they talk about in that momentary halt in the tavern? Of the eternal questions, of the existence of God and immortality. And those who do not believe in God talk of socialism and anarchism, of the transformation of all humanity on a new pattern, so that it all comes to the same, they're the same questions turned inside out. And masses, masses of the most original Russian boys

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do nothing but talk of the eternal questions! Isn't that soi*145)

(Dostoevsky 1976,114)

The quotation above is indicative of the tavern as a spatial metaphor. Joseph Frank also

remarks upon the unique spatial quality of taverns in Dostoevsky's oeuvre in general, and

in this section of The Brothers Karamazov in particular:

The conversation between the two brothers continues in a "stinking tavern," Dostoevsky s usual venue for dialogues that explore the furthest moral-philosophical implications of his characters' beliefs and values. The same pattern is maintained here as Ivan challenges, with unexampled vehemence and moral pathos, Alyosha's devotion to Father Zosima's world of all-embracing forgiveness and overflowing, selfless love.... Ivan...is struggling inwardly against his own yearning to accept the very worldview he is attacking with such passion. (Frank 2002, 603)

Why is the tavern "Dostoevsky's usual venue for dialogues that explore the furthest

moral-philosophical implications of his characters' beliefs and values," as Frank notes? I

suggest that it is specifically due to the demonic connotations of such places. In my view,

demonic attributes are not a byproduct of existentialist searching in dirty taverns, but

rather an inherent quality. Demonic and sacred space are interrelated at the very basic

level of ideological foundation. Both spaces emphasize space in terms of metaphoric

proximity to God. The tavern—and demonic space in general—can be understood as

spaces of examination^

The most striking feature is the dichotomy between church and tavern. The tav

ern is the antithesis of the church. However, similar activities occur in both spaces. First

ly, the theme of eating/consumption/communion is present in both spaces, but with

different connotations. Whereas in the church the primary activity of consumption is in

the reception of the Eucharist, in the tavern one consumes, not only to subsist, but to re

ceive the physical pleasure of satiation. In The Brothers Karamazov, though, one must

keep in mind the feast at the monastery in the beginning of the novel, when the various

pleasing dishes are described in great detail.

And so I omit all the hypotheses. For what are we aiming at now ? I am trying to explain as quickly as possible my essential nature, that is what

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manner of man I am, what I believe in, and for what I hope, that's it, isn't it? And therefore I tell you that I accept God outright simply, But you must note this: if God exists and if He really did create the world, then, as we all know, He created it according to the geometry of Euclid and the human mind with the conception of only three dimensions in space. Yet there have been and still are geometricians and philosophers, and even some of the most distinguished, who doubt whether the whole universe, or so to speak more widely the whole of being, was only created in Euclid's geometry; they even dare to dream that two parallel lines, which according to Euclid can never meet on earth, may meet somewhere in infinity. I have come to the conclusion that, since I can't understand even that, I can't expect to understand about God. I acknowledge humbly that I have no faculty for settling such questions. I have a Euclidean earthly mind, and how could I solve problems that are not of this world? And I advise you never to think about it either, my dear Alyosha, especially about God, whether He exists or not. All such questions are utterly inappropriate for a mind created with an idea of only three dimensions/146 (Dostoevsky 1976,116)

Ivan Karamazov continues to consider theological problems in terms of space. In the

above quotation that takes the form of musings of the spatial nature of the world, partic

ularly Euclidean geometry. The physical characteristics that Ivan Karamazov describes—

three directly observable dimensions, plus the fourth dimension of time, which is some

what more abstract but still very observable and quantifiable—is juxtaposed against a

geometry that is not observable. Non-Euclidean geometry—specifically parabolic and

hyperbolic geometry—which began to be explored in the early nineteenth century, pos

tulates that Euclidean geometry is merely an approximation of geometric reality based

upon observable principles, but does not accurately explain the mechanics of the uni

verse. In Dostoevsky's lifetime—and even more so in Bulgakov's—mathematicians

demonstrated that the universe is not restricted to the laws observed in human experi

ence. Ivan Karamazov thus, through his stated desire to adhere to the limitations of Eu

clidean geometry—in fact, turns away from logic and science, confining his intellectual

endeavors to matters that are easily observable, but are not accurate descriptions of reali

ty. It is a form of intellectual cowardice—the fear of considering paradigms that cause

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discomfort, even though the scholar has a moral obligation to explore various possible

paradigms.

Thus, the inn for Ivan and Alyosha Karamazov becomes a contradictory space,

one in which the meaning of life and God are discussed among brothers in an attempt to

reach common understanding, and yet that understanding seems to elude them more

than ever. It is a liminal space, due to the transitory nature of its patrons' business there,

and it is divided from the rest of the community. Furthermore, Ivan and Alyosha Kara

mazov sit in a room divided from the rest of the tavern, where the organ provides a pseu

do-ecclesiastical atmosphere. It is a space of temptation, because Ivan Karamazov at

tempts to tempt Alyosha to abandon faith in the divine order of the universe for the

benefit of feeling indignation at human suffering. When Ivan is describing various in

stances of human suffering to Alyosha, Alyosha briefly becomes outraged and expresses a

desire for revenge, and thus succumbs to temptation. Although the temptation is seem

ingly the most minor and harmless temptation imaginable, in Dostoevsky's work it still

has profound consequences: it is a contributing factor to Fyodor Karamazov's death and

Dimitry Karamazov's suffering as a murder suspect. Alyosha had been determined to

keep his brother Dimitry out of trouble that day, but became so engrossed in sophistry

with Ivan Karamazov that Alyosha forgot his mission. The demonic nature of these

events are apparent:

Dostoevsky, however, does not wish to end on such an entirely sympathetic image of Ivan, who had succeeded in provoking Alyosha to approve of an act of revenge. And so the narrator introduces a subtly discordant note in the final paragraphs as Ivan walks away after directing his brother, "and now you go to the right and I to the left." Alyosha "suddenly noticed that Ivan swayed as he walked and that the right shoulder looked lower than the left." Whether this is an optical illusion remains uncertain; but, traditionally, the Devil is associated with the left side, and because he limps when he walks, the left shoulder seems higher than the right (14:241). The narrator thus uses folk beliefs to associate Ivan with the dread spirit the latter had just evoked so approvingly in his Legend; and as Alyosha enters the hermitage copse in which "the ancient pines murmured gloomily about him," Ivan's influence is shown to have been harm-

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ful even on the level of the plot action. Alyosha had been entrusted by Father Zosima with the task of seeking out Dimitry and staying by his side to prevent any catastrophe from occurring; and he had resolved to do so even if it meant not returning to the monastery. But "several times afterward he wondered how he could, on leaving Ivan, so completely forget about his brother Dimitry" as he hastened back to the bedside of Father Zosima (ibid.). (Frank iooz, 618)

The demonic precedents that Dostoevsky willfully exposes to the reader is typologically

connected to the temptation of Christ in the desert: "Central of course are the New Tes

tament accounts of the three temptations of Christ by the Devil, and we have seen these

motifs—particularly the first and third temptations ('to command these stones to be

come loaves of read'; to rule deceptively in the name of Christ with earthly, temporal

power)—gradually crystallizing in Dostoevsky's imagination..." (Frank 200Z, 436).

These are the same types of temptation that Ivan Karamazov sets forth in The Legend of

the Grand Inquisitor.' This conversation of temptation links the space of the tavern to

the space of the desert. Both are liminal spaces of testing through demonic temptation:

"The trial and punishment of Ivan Karamazov are of course not legal like Dimitry but

moral-psychological; and Dostoevsky gives them so much importance because, through

the depiction of Ivan's inner torments, he was attempting to undermine from within the

intense humanitarian pathos of the Populist ethic" (Frank 2002, 442.).

Ironically, one is a space of adequate or excess consumption of bodily nourish

ment, the other a space of limited or inadequate consumption. Both, however, serve the

same purpose from different angles of the availability of material consumption. The simi

larity to, yet divergence of, spatial function is reflected in Joseph Franks assessment of

the preceding conversation between Ivan and Alyosha Karamazov:

"Alyosha and Ivan are shown to share the view that contemporary radicalism is a secularized form of the Christian faith and its morality of love; but the younger brother has chosen to return to the original religious source, while the elder refuses to go beyond its modern avatar. Ivan then introduces his famous distinction between 'Euclidian' (earthly) and 'non-Euclidian' (supernatural) understanding, insisting that, although he is perfectly willing to accept the existence of this non-Euclidean world (and

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hence of God), his Euclidian understanding refuses to reconcile itself to all the moral horrors of the world created by such a divinity" (Frank 2002, 603)

Ivan Karamazov's association with and choosing of the space of the tavern may be seen as

a reflection of his conscious preference for materialist consumption as well as the limita

tion of his intellect to that which is physically observable. The theme of the conversation

in the tavern is the root of what is perhaps the most important conversation of the entire

novel—Ivan Karamazov's later conversation with the devil:

Ivan's dialogue with the devil plays on the continual fluctuation between the stirrings of his conscience and the amorally nihilistic conclusions that he has drawn from his refusal to accept God and immortality. The devil had first appeared to Ivan once he began to brood over his possible part in the murder, and in this sense the devil represents paradoxically (unlike any other treatment of this topos known to me) the voice of Ivan's conscience revolting against his reason. Dostoevsky's devil, however, does not preach moral sermons but ridicules the inconsistency between Ivan's pangs of conscience and the ideas he has accepted and expounded.... The devil arrives to personify Ivan's self-mockery of his own moral-psychic contradictions, which have driven him into what Dostoevsky called brain fever and what we now diagnose as schizophrenia. Ivan will finally break down completely—but not before the devil has exhibited both Ivan's longing for faith and the difficulty of attaining it for someone who refuses to accept any non-Euclidian world. (Frank 2002, 678)

Ivan Karamazov's "contradictions" have been exposed in the space of the tavern. Specifi

cally, the contradiction between his disbelief in materialism, although he professes ad

herence to the philosophy of materialism.

One of the traditionally liminal spaces is the inn, tavern or public house, which,

though perhaps antithetical to the church in popular imagination, is, in fact, not so: Political scientists like James C. Scott, furthermore, associate taverns more generally with the subculture of the oppressed, where an anti-establishment 'hidden transcript' could be articulated. In short, reinforced demarcations between the sacred and the profane in early modern communities found spatial expression in the institutional dichotomy of parish churches (as religious sites) and public houses (as secular, if not immoral, criminal and subversive centers).

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Such an interpretation can point to a substantial body of evidence from the period. As early as the fourteenth century, a French author was in no doubt about the nature of a public house: 'the devil's school is there, where his little disciples study, and also the chapel, where he is worshipped.' A few hundred years later, Hippolytus Guarinonius, a medical doctor from seventeenth-century Tyrol, similarly defined the public house as a site 'where one serves the devil and forgets about God.' Moral literature, however, may not be the most reliable guide by which to judge the early modern public house.

[...] While acknowledging the disorderly potential of public houses and numerous incidents of conflict, churches and taverns will be portrayed as closely connected and mutually dependent focal points of local cultural life. Examining a range of sources from a long-term perspective it is argued that the 'polarization thesis' fails to reflect the complexity of church-tavern interactions in early modern towns and villages. (Kumin 1005,17-18)

Bulgakov's literary discourse is both anti-establishment and demonic, the two character

istics associated with the profane space of the tavern. However, the tavern, like Bul

gakov's discourse, is at times intertwined with the functions of sacred space. Added to

this significance is the identification of the tavern as demonic when it simultaneously

performs a sacralizing function. The statement that paradigms of polarization fail to ac

count for the spatial practice of the early modern tavern can be more widely applied to

this thesis in general. The most basic polarization of'Devil versus God' also fails to estab

lish itself as the sole paradigm of cosmological order within the Christian tradition,

though it is that way in doctrine.

In early modern Europe the divisions between sacred and profane spaces are

problematic. The church sometimes provided a space for civil meetings and the tavern

sometimes served as a space of worship:

Starting with practical advantages, numerous public houses were run from holdings or tenements owned by the Church and thus sources of ecclesiastical revenues....

Inns also provided indispensable service like food, drink and accommodation for countless members of the Church. In spite of official prohibitions, clergymen found it impossible to avoid public houses altogether, for instance when traveling, attending synods, conducting visita-

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tions or holding ecclesiastical courts in distant towns and village... (Kiimin 2005, 31)

In addition to the physical necessities that taverns provided to members of the clergy,

there is cultural importance attached to the dynamic between the ostensibly sacred and

secular spaces:

Most importantly, there is a flood of evidence for the spread and discussion of religious ideas in or through public houses. This has long been noted as a key factor in the rapid dissemination of Lutheran doctrine in Reformation Germany. Literary and legal sources speak of peasants hotly debating the Gospel over a drink and reveal numerous ways in which new views were promulgated. In Brandenburg in 1524, for example, 'a number of wandering apprentices sang Lutheran songs to travelers in the inns.' In August of the same year, a radical clergyman caused great commotion in the Imperial Free City of Memmingen. Disguised as a peasant, he pronounced that priests 'have long kept us from the truth' in Felix Mayer's tavern and, later the same day in another public house, he caused a theology student to curse all evangelicals: 'God may strike Luther and his followers with the plague.' Throughout the late-medieval and early modern period, judging from a survey of relevant scholarship, religious minorities used 'known' public houses as logistical bases for the distribution of their ideas and tracts. (Kiimin 2005, 31-37)

The above statement is especially important in relation to Bulgakov. Firstly it must be

emphasized that medieval and early modern Europe the Churches were never monolith

ic entities. There were always subcultures of debate and dissension within the structures

themselves. Though the official powers often attempted the suppression of dissenting

voices, dialogue never ceased, originally within the united Church Catholic, then, addi

tionally, in the Protestant denominations as well. In a sense, these establishments per

form a demonic function that is quite different from the demonic function presupposed

by 'moralists.' As I have argued, the devil in many veins of Christian thought is an exam

iner, not hostile to God but testing people on His behalf. This same examination and

questioning can be seen as a function of the tavern. Demonic spaces, like the primary de

mon-inquisitor himself, are spaces that are indivisible from and complimentary to sacred

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spaces, in a way that is often misunderstood, under-appreciated and discounted. Public

houses are spaces of discourse within the religious realm.

Surprising as it may seem, religious culture clearly permeated tavern walls. By the eighteenth century, travelers were intrigued to hear Swiss peasants singing psalms and other religious songs in the public house. Whether this was out of genuine piety, the lack of an alternative musical repertory or deliberate provocation, is difficult to tell, but some form of cultural transmission had definitely occurred. Even publicans, often viewed as the 'anti-cures' of local communities, opened their hearts and doors to spiritual messages. (Kiimin 2005, 31-37)

The above quotation reflects one of the major premises of this thesis: that sacred space is

significantly more complex than largely considered and includes spaces beyond the

cathedral, parish church and consecrated graveyard. Is the tavern in which Mass is cele

brated sacred or profane? Is that same tavern sacred or profane when motets are per

formed there, or theological discussions held?

Holy and worldly things could not be neatly separated and 'space' was no static or absolute entity. While all mainstream confessions sought to purify or 'de-profanise' religious buildings and precincts, fearing above all the corrosive influence of drink, such campaigns met with at best partial success. Pious crusaders against public houses failed to grasp that church and tavern were inextricably intertwined in communal life. Simple notions of polarity and conflict overlook the vastly heterogeneous spatial settings and the importance of variables like timing, situation and audience. While tensions undoubtedly existed, there were also mutual benefits and cultural exchanges. Church—tavern relationships could be 'complementary' and 'symbiotic' just as well as 'antagonistic' (Kiimin 2005, 31-37)

Heterogeneity is one of the hallmarks of contradictory space in Lefebvre's formulation.

This heterogeneity—multiplicity—resists attempts at domination. It is known, though

not explicitly stated, neither by Kiimin nor by Bakhtin, that religion and faith, not just as

a practice but also as a paradigm of life, extended beyond the control of the Church.

It can be inferred from Kiimin's statements that the tavern was actually absorbed

into religious practice contrary, at some times, to the ecclesiastical authorities at one level

or another, or, at least, contrary to some authoritative ideal of sacred practice. This could,

possibly, represent a 'grass-roots initiative' in the sacralization of ostensibly profane

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space. In Bulgakov's context, the Russian Orthodox Church was beleaguered by the com

munist government and wracked by internal division. The Master and Margarita may

then represent a similar 'grass-roots initiative' in the preservation and propagation of

faith under siege by state-sponsored atheism. Ktimin goes on to describe the spatial rela

tionship of the early modern town using a spatial metaphor:

Geometrically speaking, interactions between churches and taverns formed but one side of a triangular network of relationships characterizing local communities throughout premodern Europe. At each end-point of this triangle was an institutionalized social center, which specialized in one key communal concern: politics in the case of the town or village hall, religion in the case of the church, and socio-cultural relations in the case of the tavern. In everyday life, of course, these three spheres could not be neatly demarcated and frictions were hard to avoid. (Kumin 2005, 31—37)

This inter-permeation of sacred and secular space is at once exciting for the things it

makes possible and problematic for the same reason. In the wake of the Reformation and

Counter-Reformation, that unity of space was shattered by the empirical method of in

quiry, which led to the dethronement of faith and its divorce from reason.

The theme of the divorce of reason and faith is a discreet theme in the works of

Bulgakov, but it is of the utmost importance and hearkens back to Dostoevsky, who him

self continues a long tradition of dialogue begun when that split first occurred in the ear

ly modern period. Here is where one of the distinctions between spatial unity and spatial

homogeneity arises. Dostoevsky seeks reintegration with the social order, but Bulgakov

seeks disintegration of a temporary, abberational social order along with simultaneous

re-integration with a wider European religious social order. That is why their use of the

demonic is different at times. In Dostoevsky, it is not necessary to side with the demonic

elements & cement disassociation with society, whereas with Bulgakov it is. The devils

have different missions. Bulgakov must create concrete spaces of resistance, whereas Dos

toevsky can afford to be more ambiguous. For Bulgakov it is necessary to use metaphori

cal & symbolic violence to rip central spaces into the periphery. Official Soviet literature

was consolidated and, to a certain extent, homogenized, in the early 1930s with the ad-

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vent of Socialist Realism. Bulgakov's work is antithetical to the mode of Socialist Real

ism. There is nothing new or groundbreaking in this statement—it is a matter of com

mon sense. However, the relation oilhe Master and Margarita goes beyond mere

difference. Bulgakov's novel is antithetical to the prescribed works of the Socialist canon.

Katerina Clark, in her detailed analysis of the structure and history of Socialist Realism,

provides the basis for understanding how The Master and Margarita could actively sub

vert and deconstruct the dominant Soviet canon. An examination of Bulgakov's work as

an active subversion and deconstruction of the Soviet canon can explain much of the

novel's seeming disunity. For example, the various erotic elements of the novel, such as

the pervasive presence of beautiful naked women and the love plot, could be a mirror im

age of Soviet works, in which "Love is played down for an additional reason: the well-

known Puritanism of Socialist Realism" (Clark 2000, 283). In addition to stereotypes of

the devil as an agent of sexual libertinism—a stereotype that Woland does not, in fact,

fit—this element is a deliberate mockery of the puritan conventions prescribed for litera

ture of the period.

Strategies of producing and altering space are a useful means for understanding

how Bulgakov subverts Soviet power. Space is inherently connected to all aspects of So

viet power and resistance to that power. Moscow is the place co-opted by the devil—that

same Moscow is a metonym for Soviet power:

There are two orders of place.... In general Moscow, or the Kremlin alone, symbolizes the higher-order place.... [I]t represents a prefiguration of what is to come; it is the place from which that Jacob's ladder rises, leading to a "higher" reality... (Clark 2000, 146)

Thus Bulgakov creates a collision between two spatial paradigms. Moscow is the city of

rationality and scientific progress in the socialist spatial formulation. As the center of the

proletariat—the politically conscious class—all political enlightenment must radiate out

from that center. Clark states that Socialist Realist novels are based on a master narrative

of personal development in order to be more useful to Socialist society. The conventions

of that plot had become conventionalized to the point of ritual:

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The one thing that rituals have in common in any culture, as anthropologists from Van Gennep to Victor Turner have pointed out, is a concern for transformation of various kinds. Rituals personalize abstract cultural meanings and turn them into comprehensible narrative. This is the way they make specific meanings that would otherwise be general. The subject of the ritual "passes" from one state into another, well-known examples being the progression from boyhood to manhood or from foreigner to citizen.

The primary function of the master plot is very similar to that of ritual understood in these terms. It shapes the novel as a sort of parable for the working-out of Marxism-Leninism in history. (Clark 2000, 9)

Through rituals of development the hero of the Socialist Realist work passed from 'un

conscious' [CTHXHHHHH] to 'conscious' [co3HaTeAbHMH] (2000). In away the Socialist

Realist canon was also one vast meta-textual Bildungsroman of the nation—a chronicle

of the development of the people towards communism. The rituals that Clark elaborates

upon which lead the Socialist Realist protagonist to consciousness are usually connected

with meeting, seeing or hearing Lenin or Stalin (2000). In Socialist Realism machinery

became a metaphor for both material progression and the advancement of political con

sciousness that would eventually lead to true communism. Electricity became a

metaphor for enlightenment and, in statements Lenin made about electrification of the

Soviet Union, "...it became clear that Enlightenment values colored his vision: electrifi

cation would bring an end to the 'dark' of the villages, bring them 'enlightenment....'

Thus, for both Lenin and Marx, electricity was a symbol of technological progress, of

knowledge, and of society organized on a rational, scientific basis" (Clark 2000, 93).

What better figure for combating this symbolism could there be than the devil? The dev

il is, in the context of the Enlightenment, an anachronism. The devil is anti-rational and

anti-scientific. He is the antithesis of planning. In The Master and Margarita there are

many elements that specifically stand in opposition to Socialist Realist symbolism. Illu

mination is one of those elements. The Soviets took the metaphor of the machine as

their vision of society's future:

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They wanted to convert all the diverse workings of their society to the one model of industrialization: everything should be scientifically planned, mechanized, and large-scale. Indeed, so obsessed were they with the benefits of industrialization that they subsumed under the one ritualized myth of industrialization not only the economic but the political and social revolutions as well. They even believed that social ills could be cured by industrialization. Indeed, it was often claimed, especially in fiction, that human psychology could be changed by putting people to work at machines: inexorably, the machine's regular, controlled, rational rhythms would impress themselves on the "anarchic" and "primitive" psyches of those who worked them. (Clark 2000, 94)

Bulgakov personally experiences the repressive aspects of this system. His works do not

fit smoothly into the machinery of Soviet literature and are repressed. Ironically, this

'machinery' of Soviet literature is based upon the medieval model. Katerina Clark(200o,

159) quotes Walter Benjamin as saying of the Soviet writers:

By basing their historical tales on a divine plan of salvation—an inscrutable one—they have from the very start lifted the burden of demonstrable explanation from their own shoulders.... [They are] not concerned with an accurate concatenation of definite events, but with the way these are embedded in the great inscrutable course of the world. (Benjamin 1985,69)

This mode of exposition is a mirror of the mode that Socialist Realism strove to replace.

Communist ideology is polar-opposite content packaged in a similar form—that of me

dieval religious literature. By attacking the form using its traditional antagonist—the

devil—Bulgakov draws attention to Communist literature's religious and feudal origins,

thereby drawing attention to the fact that the form, and that which it represents, cannot

be so easily done away with as practitioners of the 'new literature' claim. If space can be

destructively consumed as in a materialist paradigm, both capitalist and Marxist, then the

opposite of that consumption could he, production. Lefebvre's work is built on the produc

tion of space, but he does not seem to view consumption as either different from utiliza

tion or as a destructive practice.

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Conclusion

In this thesis I have demonstrated how space is not an inert vacuum, but rather a com

plex system of ideological signs that are designed to seem innate. Construction of space

is a process of attaching ideological significance to physical features of place.

Freedom from an oppressive and maintenance of moral autonomy are two appli

cations of spatial construction that have been explored in this thesis. Specifically, Fyodor

Dostoevsky uses the construction of liminal space to expose contradictory space in the

abstract space envisioned by the materialist liberals of the latter half of the nineteenth

century.

Proceeding from anthropological theories of the functioning of social and perso

nal space, I have been able to construct a picture of organized—though individualistic—

effort at resisting hegemonic practices.

Liminality, with its origins in the field of anthropology, is a concept that has ex

tended to many disciplines and areas of inquiry. Mikhail Bakhtin's appropriation of lim

inality for literary studies focusses on liminality as a normative social procedure to main

tain the functioning of society. I have taken the opposite approach, by examining

liminality as a means of resisting a surrounding milieu, of seeking autonomy within the

individual.

In chapter one, I studied the question of how Lefebvre's conceptualization of

space in terms of power and resistance could be applied to the context of the Soviet

Union, and even stretch back to pre-Soviet times, when the ideology of materialism,

which would be the enforced ideology in the Soviet Union, was being formed and codi

fied in Russian cultural discourse.

The materialist discourse of the nineteenth century, which evolved into state-

sponsored atheism in the Soviet Union of the twentieth century, is an attempt, rooted in

the Enlightenment, of removing God from space. In the medieval understanding of

space, all space proceeds from God, Who is at the center. In the Enlightenment, humani-

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CONCLUSION • PETER G. LARSON

ty attempted to take control of its own destiny. The concept of "progress" was born into

its present form. Whereas previously^ragm.? had denoted progress along the path of lin

ear time towards the eschatological completion of time and the coming of the Kingdom of

God, now denoted improving life on earth materially as an end in itself in perpetuity.

These two meanings are radically opposed. As a result of the paradigmatic shift, the qual

ity of objective morality is removed from the DNA of space.

Materialist space in itself does not have a quality of moral hierarchy, it only con

tains within itself the dogma that nothing exists which cannot be quantified or qualified.

However, materialist space coupled with Marxist ideology does contain a strict moral hi

erarchy, which in many ways resembles an inversion of the Christian hierarchy, with the

people substituted for God.

In order to re-establish the personal autonomy and individuality ensconced in

the Christian doctrine of free will, and to assert a belief that there exists more than can

be accounted for by human beings, Bulgakov attempts to re-connect with the pre-En-

lightenment paradigm of viewing space.

Chapter one of this thesis suggested that Bulgakov constructs penitential space as

a means of coming to terms with sins, real or imagined, of living in Soviet society and im

plicitly supporting the Soviet system. Specifically, the master's basement is characterized

through spatial symbolism as penitential space. Penitential space is inherently liminal, as

penance is a liminal ritual of re-incorporation. However, in this instance the master does

not make a serious attempt to reincorporate himself into Soviet society, but rather to

seek moral absolution from Christ, in the form of Ieshua, who is a flawed representation

of Christ because it is a conception of Christ wholly based in human imagination, not in

objective fact of the nature of God, which is beyond human understanding.

If the master's penance is flawed, Dostoevsky represents a space that is devoid of

penance: the space of the Underground Man, known as underground, even though it is

not actually underground, a fact that is the first indicator that the space is highly contra-

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dictory. Dostoevsky depicts this space as a kind of symbolic hell, an abode of nihilism,

which Dostoevsky saw as a logical extension of materialism. In this materialist space, the

Underground Man is free of external constraints, but cannot turn this freedom into any

positive action because the moral impulse planted by God is not allowed to develop by

the Underground Man's will.

However, Dostoevsky does depict a perfect space, one in harmony with God: Fa

ther Zosima's cell in The Brothers Karamazov. This is a space of successful penance. Fa

ther Zosima has been engaged in penance in this space for his dissolute previous life.

This is a permanently liminal space, one that may also carry demonic associations. Such a

formulation would be highly contradictory if it were not for the understanding that de

monic space is necessary for the functioning of the divine paradigm, and that it is actual

ly demonic elements that mark the liminal boundaries between sacred and secular.

The summation of the above points is that liminal spaces are productive spaces of

choice, freedom, and resistance to materialist hegemony. However, these qualities of

choice, freedom and resistance are integrated into a unified paradigm that is pro

grammed into the DNA of liminal space through demonic symbolism.

Chapter two is a concrete illustration of how space is generated upon the basis of

physical objects, yet transcends physicality into the realm of the symbolic. This chapter

will lead up to chapters three and four, which focus on competition between spaces, by

demonstrating how one place can be enveloped by multiple competing spaces. It also

demonstrates how individuals transition from one spatial practice to another. The exam

ple used in this chapter is that of Ivan Bezdomny, who accomplishes transition through

an affliction ritual, which is functionally and formally connected to pilgrimage.

In chapter three I have examined unified and contradictory spaces, which are in

strumental in Dostoevsky's and Bulgakov's spatial subversion. Medieval space was uni

fied, meaning that all phenomena can be incorporated into its ideological structure, and

there is no conflict between real and ideal, as no real event can invalidate the spatial para-

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digm. Materialist space, in the Soviet context, has been shown to be contradictory. Con

tradictory space is composed of abstract space that is opposed to actual lived practice.

The highly theoretical and deliberately constructed nature of materialist space in the So

viet Union is highly abstracted. It is also rigid, oppressive and counter-intuitive, causing

the population to rebel in extremely discrete ways, thus shattering the Soviet spatial para

digm. Contradictory space has been established as a precedent by Dostoevsky, when

demonstrating the inherent contradictions in Smerdyakov's choice to embrace nihilism,

which is given expression through the space Smerdyakov inhabits.

In chapter four I have demonstrated how The Quay in The Master and Margarita

represents transition to a spatial paradigm of freedom through an affliction ritual or pil

grimage. I have proceeded to demonstrate how Dostoevsky establishes this precedent for

the representation and deconstruction—through illuminating the contradictory na

ture—of abstract in The Devils, by displaying the disorder and confusion of the material

ists when confronted with unified space.

Finally, the crux of the process can be understood through Ivan Karamazov's

room and the conversation between Ivan Karamazov and Alyosha in the Metropol tav

ern, which represents a kind of afflictive questioning, perhaps a precedent for that to

which Ivan Bezdomny is subjected at Patriarch's Ponds.

In this thesis I have illustrated the individual's attempt to be free and bring one's

self into communion with the space of the world. This process is microcosmically repre

sented through individual spatial practice, which is a constructed artifact that lends itself

to study in the form of literary products.

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Endnotes

i. H3BecrHoe «Xo>KAeHHe EoropoAHUM no MyKaM», o KOTopoM ynoMHHaeT HBaH

KapaMa30B B poMaHe ApcToeBCKoro, coxpaHHAOcb B 6OABUIOM KOAHHCCTBC pyccKHX cnncKOB,

CTapeiiiuHH H3 KOTopwx AaTHpyeToi XII B. TpeHecKHH TCKCT anoKpH<|>a BO3HHK...B IV-V BB..„

2. BwHrpaB CTO THC^H, 3araAOHHMH rocTb HBaHa nocTynHA TaK: KynHA KHHT, 6pocHA CBOIO

KOMHaTy Ha MHCHHUKOH...

— Yy, npoKAHTaa AMpa! — npopwnaA TOCTB.

...H HanaA y 3acrpoHiuHKa B nepeyAKe 6AH3 Ap6aTa...

— B H 3HaeTe, HTO TaKoe — 3acTpoHiuHKH? — cnpocHA rocTb y HBaHa H TyT ace

noacHHA: — 3 T O HeMHoroHHCAeHHaa rpynna acyAHKOB, KOTOpaa KaKHM-TO o6pa30M yueAeAa B

M O C K B C .

HaHÂ y 3acTpoHiuHKa ABe KOMHaTW B noABaAe MaAeHbKoro AOMHKa B caAHKe. CAy^c6y B

My3ee 6pocHA H HanaA coHHHiiTb poMaH o IIOHTHH ElHAaTe.

— Ax, 3TO 6WA 30AOTOH Bex, — 6ACCT^ TAasaMH, menTaA paccKa3HHK, — coBepuieHHO

OTAeAbHaa KBapTHpKa, H eme nepeAHflfl, H B Hen paKOBHHa c BOAOH, — noneMy-TO OCO6CHHO

ropAeAHBO noAêpKHyA OH, — MaAeHbKHe OKOHna HaA caMMM TpoTyap^HKOM, BeAymHM OT

KaAHTKH. HanpoTHB, B neTbipex marax, noA 3a6opoM, CHpeHb, AHna H KACH. AX, ax, ax! 3HMOK>

a oneHb peAKO BHACA B OKOHue HbH-HH6yAb nepHwe Horn H CAwiuaA xpycT CHera noA HHMH. H B

nenKe y MCHA BCHHO nMAaA oroHb! H o BHe3anHO HacTynHAa BecHa, H CKB03b Myrawe CTeKAa

yBHAeA si cnepBa roAbie, a 3aTeM OAeBaiomHeoi B 3eAeHb KycTw cnpeHH. (Bulgakov 2004b, 249)

3 . %. OTKpbIA OKOHUa H CHAeA BO BTOpOH, COBCeM MaAKKCHbKOH KOMHaTe, TOCTb CTaA

OTMepHBaTb pyKaMH, — Tax... BOT AHBaH, a HanpoTHB ApyroH AHBaH, a Me>KAy HHMH CTOAHK, H

Ha HeM npeKpacHaa HOHHaa AaMna, a K OKOuiKy 6AHXC KHHTH, TyT MaAeHbKHH nncbMeHHbiH

CTOAHK, a B nepBOH KOMHaTe — rpoMaAHaa KOMHaTa, HeTbipHaAuaTb MeTpoB, — KHH™, KHHI-H H

nenKa. Ax, KaKaa y UCHSI 6wAa o6cTaHOBKa!

Heo6biKHOBeHHO naxHeT cnpeHb! H roAOBa MOH CTaHOBHAacb AerKOH OT yTOMAeHHa, H

nHAaT AeTeA K KOHuy. (Bulgakov 2004b, 249)

4. HBaHy CTaAo H3BecTHHM, HTO MacTep H He3HaKOMKa noAio6HAH Apyr Apyra TaK KpenKO, MTO

CTaAH coBepuieHHO Hepa3AyHHH. HBaH npeACTaBAHA ce6e ^CHO yxe H ABe KOMHaTW B noABaAe

oco6HaHKa, B KOTopbix 6WAH BcerAa cyMepKH H3-3a cnpeHH H 3a6opa. KpacHyio noTepTyio

Me6eAb, 6iopo, Ha HeM nacbi, 3BeHeBuiHe Ka>KAbie noAHaca, H KHHITH, KHHTH OT KpameHoro noAa

Ao 3aKonHeHHoro noTOAKa, H ne^Ky. (Bulgakov 2004b, 253)

5. OHa npnxoAHAa, H nepBMM AOATOM HaAeBaAa <j>apTyK, H B y3KOH nepeAHen, rAe HaxoAHAacb

Ta caMaji paKOBHHa, KOTopofi ropAHAC^ noneMy-TO 6eAHWH 6oAbHOH, Ha AepeBflHHOM CTOAe

3a>KHraAa KepocHHKy, H roTOBHAa 3aBTpaK, H HaKpwBaAa ero B nepBOH KOMHaTe Ha OBaAbHOM

CTOAC KorAa IUAH MancKHe rpo3w H MHMO noACAenoBaTwx OKOH uiyMHO KaTHAacb B

noAsopoTHK) BOAa, yrpojKaa 3aAHTb nocAeAHHH npnioT, BAio6AeHHbie pacTanAHBaAH nenKy H

neKAH B Heii KapToêAb. O T KapToêAH BaAHA nap, nepHaa KapTO<J>eAbHaii meAyxa nanKaAa

naAhUbi. (Bulgakov 2004b, 253)

-219-

ENDNOTES • PETER G. LARSON

6. O H 6WA AonHcaH B aBrycTe Meome, 6MA OTAaH KaKOH-TO 6e3BecTHOH MauiHHHCTKe, H Ta

nepenenaTaAa ero B n^TH 3K3eMnA«pax. H, HaKOHeii, HacTaA nac, KorAa npnuiAOCb noKHHyTb

TaHHblH npHIOT H BblHTH B >KH3Hb.

— H a BHiiieABacH3Hh, Aepxaero Bpyicax, HTorAaMoa>KH3Hb KOHHHAacb, — npomenTaA

MacTep... (Bulgakov 2004b, 254)

7. KoMHaTa TaioKe HMeAa OHeHb CTpaHHMH BHA, H HTO-HH6yAb noHHTb B xaoce ee 6WAO oneHb

TpyAHO. H a KOBpe AexaAH pyKonHCH, OHH x e 6MAH H Ha AHBaHC BaAHAacb KaKaa-TO KHHXKa

rop6oM B KpecAe. A Ha KpyrAOM CTOAC 6WA HaKpwT o6eA. H cpeAH 3aKycoK CTOAAO HecKOAbKO

6yTHAOK. OTKyAa B3 AHCb Bee 3TH SICTBZ H HanHTKH, 6WAO HeH3BecTHO H MaprapHTe H MacTepy.

ripocHyBiiiHCb, OHH Bee 3TO 3acTaAH yxe Ha CTOAC (Bulgakov 2004b, 508)

8. KoMHaTa Taicxe HMeAa oneHb CTpaHHMH BHA, H HTO-HH6yAb nonaTb B xaoce ee 6WAO oneHb

TpyAHO. H a KOBpe AexaAH pyKonncH, OHH x e 6MAH H Ha AHBaHe. BaAHAacb KaKaa-TO KHHXKa

rop6oM B KpecAe. A Ha KpyrAOM cTOAe 6MA HaKpbiT o6eA, H cpeAH 3aKycoK CTGHAO HecKOAbKO

6yTWAOK. OTKyAa B3flAHCb Bee 3TH flCTBa H HanHTKH, 6HAO HeH3BecTHO H MaprapHTe H MacTepy.

ripocHyBiHHCb, OHH Bee 3TO 3acTaAH yxe Ha CTOAC (Bulgakov 2004b, 508)

9. ripocnaB AO cy66oTHero 3aKaTa, H MacTep, H ero noApyra nyBCTBOBaAH ce6x coBepuieHHO

OKpenuiHMH, H TOAbKO OAHO AaBaAO 3HaTb o BMepauiHHX npHKAMHeHHHX. Y O6OHX HeMHoro

HWA AeBblH BHCOK. C o CTOpOHbl X e nCHXHKH H3MeHeHHfl B 0 6 0 H X n p O H 3 0 I U A H OHeHb 6 o A b U I H e ,

KaK y6eAHAca 6M BOIKHH, KTO Mor 6M noACAymaTb pa3roBop B noABaAbHOH KBapTHpe. H o

noACAymaTb 6MAO peuiHTeAbHO HeKOMy. ABOPHK-TO STOT 6WA TCM H xoponi, HTO BcerAa 6WA

nycT. (Bulgakov 2004b, 508)

10. H a 3aKaTe coAHija BMCOKO HaA ropoAOM Ha KaMeHHOH Teppace OAHOTO H3 caMwx KpacHBwx

3AaHHH B MocKBe, 3AaHHH, nocTpoeHHoro OKOAO noAyTopacTa ACT Ha3aA, HaxoAHAHCb ABoe:

BoAaHA H A3a3eAAO. O H H He 6HAH BHAHM CHH3V, C yAHHw, TaK KaK HX 3aKpMBaAa OT HeHyxHbix

B3opoB 6aAK)CTpaAa c rnncoBbiMH Ba3aMH H rnncoBMMH HBeTaMH. H o HM ropoA 6MA BHACH

noHTH AO caMbix KpaeB. (Bulgakov 2004b, 501-02)

11. BoAaHA CHAeA Ha CKAaAHOM Ta6ypeTe, OACTMH B nepHyio CBOIO cyTaHy. Ero AAHHHaa

uinpoKaa uinara 6biAa BOTKHyra MexAy AByMfl pacceKuiHMHca nAHTaMH Teppacw BepTHKaAbHO,

TaK HTO n O A y i H A H C b COAHeHHbie HaCbl. T e H b U i n a r H MeAAeHHO H HeyKAOHHO VAAHHHAaCb,

noAnoA3aa K nepHMM TycJ>AHM Ha Horax caTaHbi. IIOAOJKHB ocTpwH noA6opoAOK Ha KyAaK,

CKopHHBiiiHCb Ha Ta6ypeTe H noAxaB oAHy Hory noA cc6x, BoAaHA He OTpbiBaacb CMOTpeA Ha

Heo6i>aTHoe c6opHiue ABopuoB, raraHTCKHX AOMOB H MaAeHbKHX, o6peneHHbix Ha CAOM Aanyr.

A 3 a 3 e A A O , paCCTaBIHHCb CO CBOHM COBpeMeHHbIM HapÂOM, TO eCTb n H A ^ a K O M , KOTeAKOM,

AaKHpoBaHHHMH Ty >AaMH, OAeTHH, KaK H BoAaHA> B nepHoe, HenoABHXHO CTOSIA HeBAaAeKe OT

CBoero noBeAHTeAH, TaK x e KaK H OH He cnycKaa iAa3 c ropoAa. (Bulgakov 2004b, 502)

12. CpeAH Moeii xaHApw H TOCKH no npouiAOMy, HHorAa, KaK ceiiHac, B STOH HeAenon

o6cTaHOBKe BpeMeHHofi TecHOTw, B rHycHOH KOMHaTe rHycHoro AOMa, y Mena 6biBaiOT B3pHBM

yBepeHHOCTH H CHAW. M cennac si CAbiuiy B ce6e, KaK B3MWBaeT Moa MMCAb, H Bepio, HTO SI

HeH3MepHMO CHAbHee KaK nncaTeAb Bcex, Koro si HH 3Haio. H o B TaKHX ycAOBHax, KaK cennac, si,

-220-


B03MOXHO, nponaAy.

13. TorAa-To, — STO Bee BM roBopHTe, — HacTaHyr HOBbie 3KOHOMHnecKHe OTHOIUCHHA, coBceM

y>K roTOBwe H To^ce BMHHCAeHHbie c MaTeMaraHecKoio TOHHOCTHIO, TaK HTO B OAHH MHr HCHC3HVT

BceB03MOKHwe BonpocM, CO6CTBCHHO noTOMy, HTO Ha HHX noAyniLiorcfi BceB03MOXHwe OTBCTM.

TorAa BbicTpoHTca xpycTaABHwii ABopeij. TorAa... Hy, OAHHM CAOBOM, TorAa npHAeraT n rana

KaraH. KOHCHHO, HHKaK HeAb3« rapaHTHpoBarb (STO y x a Tenepb roBopio), HTO TorAa He 6yAeT,

HanpHMep, yxacHO CKyHHO (noTOMy HTO HTO >K H AeAaTb-TO, KorAa Bee 6yAeT pacHHCAeHO no

Ta6AHHKe), 3aTO Bee 6yAeT Hpe3BbinaHHO 6Aaropa3yMHO. (Dostoevsky 1989, 469)

1 4 . C B O e C o 6 c T B e H H O e , BOAbHOe H C B o 6 o A H O e XOTCHbe, CBOH C o 6 c T B e H H W H , XOTfl 6 b l CaMblH

AHKHH KanpH3, CBCWI <J>aHTa3H>i, pa3ApaxeHHaii HHorAa xoTb 6w Aaxe AO cyMacinecTBHa, — BOT

3TO-TO Bee H ecTb Ta caMaa, nponymeHHaii, caMaa BwroAnaa BbiroAa, KOTopaa HH noA KaKyio

KAaccn(j>HKauHio He noAxoAHT H OT KOTopon Bee CHCTeMH H TeopHH nocTO^HHO pa3AeiaiOTca K

nepTy. H c Hero 3TO B3JIAH Bee 3TH MyApenbi, HTO neAOBeKy HaAO Kaicoro-TO HopMaAbHoro,

KaKoro-TO Ao6poAeTeAbHoro xoTeHKa? C nero STO HenpeMeHHO Boo6pa3HAH OHH, HTO neAOBeKy

HaAO HenpeMeHHO 6Aaropa3yMHO BbiroAnoro XOTCHWI? HeAOBeKy HaAO — OAHoro TOAbKO

CaMOCTO^TeAbHOrO XOTeHbfl, H e r o 6 b l 3Ta CaMOCTOilTeAbHOCTb HH CTOHAa H K HeMy 6 b l HH

npHBeAa. Hy H xoTeHbe BeAb nepT 3HaeT... (Dostoevsky 1989, 468-69)

1$. riycrb Aa^ce TaK 6yAeT, HTO xpycTaAbHoe 3AaHHe ecTb ny<J>, HTO no 3aKOHaM npnpoAM ero H

He noAaraeTca H HTO X BbiAyMaA ero TOAbKO BCACACTBHC MoeH CO6CTBCHHOH rAynocTH,

BCAeACTBHe HeKOTopwx cTapHHHbix, HepaitHOHaAbHbix npHBwneK Hamero noKOAeHHii. H o

KaKoe MHe ACAO, HTO ero He noAaraeTca. He Bee AH paBHO, ecAH OH cymecTByeT B MOHX

5KeAaHHax, HAH, Aynme CKa3aTb, cymecTByeT, noKa cymecTByioT MOH xeAaHHfl? MoaceT 6biTb, BM

omiTb CMeeTecb? H3BOAbTe CMeaTboi; a Bee HacMeuiKH npHMy H Bce-TaKH He CKaxy, HTO a CHT,

KorAaa ecTb xony; Bce-TaKH 3Haio, HTO a He ycnoKoiocb Ha KOMnpoMHece, Ha 6ecnpepwBHOM

nepnoAHHecKOM HyAe, noTOMy TOAbKO, HTO OH cymecTByeT no 3aKOHaM npnpoAM H cymecTByeT

deucmeumeAbHO. ft. He npHMy 3a BeHen, xeAaHHH MOHX — KanHTaAbHbiii AOM, C KBapTHpaMH AAH

6eAHbix >KHAbijOB no KOHTpaKTy Ha Tbioiny AeT H Ha BCHKHH CAynan c 3y6HMM BpanoM

BareHreHMOM Ha BMBecice. ykHHTOXKre MOH >KeAaHH.H, coTpHTe MOH HAeaAM, noKa>KHTe MHe

HTO-Hn6yAb Aynme, H X 3a BaMH noHAy. (Dostoevsky 1989, 478)

16. CTapeu. yceAca Ha KoxaHHH KpacHoro AepeBa AHBaHHHK, oneHb crapHHHOH nocrpoHKH, a

rocTen, KpoMe O6OHX HepoMOHaxoB, noMecTHA y npoTHBonoAOXHOH CTCHW, Bcex neTBepwx

paAbiuiKOM, Ha neTbipex KpacHoro AepeBa O6HTWX nepHoio CHAbHO npoTepmejoca KOJKCH

CTVAbax. HepoMOHaxH yceAHCb no CTopoHaM, OAHH y ABepeii, Apyron y OKHa. CeMHHapncT,

AAeiua H nocAyuiHHK ocTaBaAHCb CTOX. Bca KeAba 6biAa oneHb Heo6uiHpHa H KaKoro-TO BiiAoro

BHAa. BeujH H Me6eAb 6MAH rpy6bie, 6eAHbie H caMbie AHiiib Heo6xoAHMbie. Asa ropuiKa UBCTOB

Ha OKHe, a B yrAy MHOTO HKOH — OAHa H3 HHX 6oropoAHijbi, orpoMHoro pa3Mepa H nncaHHaa,

BepoaTHO, eme 3aAOAro AO pacKOAa. FIpeA Hen TenAHAacb AaMnaAKa. OKOAO Hee ABe Apyrne

HKOHbl B CHfllOmHX p H 3 a X , 3aTeM OKOAO HHX A e A a H H b i e XepyBHMHHKH, <|>ap([>OpOBbie 3HHKH,

KaTOAHHeCKHH KpeCT H3 CAOHOBOH KOCTH C o6HHMaK)IUeiO e r O M a t e r d o l o r O S a i H HeCKOAbKO

3arpaHHHHWX r p a B I O p C BeAHKHX HTaAbilHCKHX XyAOXHHKOB npOIUAblX CTOAeTHH. r i o A A e 3THX

H3flIUHbIX H A O p o r H X TpaBIOpHblX H 3 o 6 p a > K e H H H KpaCOBaAOCb HeCKOAbKO AHCTOB CaMblX

-221-


npocTOHapoAHefiiuHX pyccKHX AHTorpa<|>HH CBATMX, MyneHHKOB, cBATHTeAeii H npon.,

npoAaiomHxcfl 3a KoneHKH Ha Bcex apMapxax. BMAO HecKOAbKO AHTorpa^HnecKHX nopTpeTOB

pyccKHX coBpeMeHHbix H npexHHx apxHepeeB, HO yxe no ApyrHM CTeHaM. MnycoB 6erAO

OKHHyA BCK) 3Ty «Ka3eHmHHy» H npHcraAbHMM B3FAHAOM ynepoi B CTapna. (Dostoevsky 1991a,

45)

17. « A° C H X n o p > n o KpaHHeH Mepe, CTOHA Ha BHCOTC Bcero, HTO ecTh nepeAOBoro B EBpone, a

3TO HOBoe noKOAeHHe peniHTeABHO Hac HrHopHpyeT», — AyMaA OH npo ce6z. (Dostoevsky

1991a, 68)

18. AAeuia AOBeA CBoero CTapija B cnaAeHKy H ycaAHA Ha KpoBaTb. 3 T O 6biAa oneHb MaAeHbKaa

KOMHaTKa c Heo6xoAHMOio Me6eAbio; KpoBaTb 6biAa y3eHbKaa, xeAe3Haa, a Ha Hen BMCCTO

TK>4>aKa OAHH TOAbKO BOHAOK. B yrOAKy, y HKOH, CTOflA HaAOH, 3. H a HeM AOKaAH KpeCT H

EBaHreAHe. (Dostoevsky 1991a, 88)

19. — Hero TM? He 3Aecb TBoe MecTO noKa. EAarocAOBAsno TC6H Ha BeAHKoe nocAyinaHHe B

MHpy. MHOTO Te6e eme CTpaHCTBOBarb. H oxeHHTbca AOAXCH 6yAenib, AOAXCH. Bee AOAxeH

6yAenib nepeHec™, noxa BHOBb npH6yAemn. A AeAa MHoro 6yAeT. H o B Te6e He coMHeBaiocb,

noTOMy H nocwAaio Te6x. C TO6OH XpHCTOc. CoxpaHH ero, H OH coxpaHHT Te6a. Tope y3pHiiib

BeAHKoe H B rope ceM cnacTAHB 6yAeuib. BOT Te6e 3aBeT: B rope cnacTba HIIJH. Pa6oTaH,

HeycTaHHO pa6oTaii. (Dostoevsky 1991a, 88)

20. MMCAIO o Te6e TaK: H3WAeuib H3 CTCH CHX, a B MHpy npe6yAeuib KaK HHOK. (Dostoevsky

1991a, 320)

2 1 . T a K MblCAK) 0 6 HHOKe, H H e y X e A H AOXHO, H e y X e A H HaAMeHHO? F I o C M O T p H T e y MHpCKHX H

BO BceM npeB03HoonueMCH HaA HapoAOM 6OXHHM MHpe, He HCKa3HAOi AH B HeM AHK 6OXHH H

npaBAa ero? Y HHX HayKa, a B HayKe AHiub TO, MTO noABepxeHo nyBCTBaM. M a p x e AyxoBHMH,

Bbiciuaa noAOBHHa cyiuecTBa HeAOBenecKoro OTBeprHyTa BOBce, H3rHaHa c HCKHHM TopxecTBOM,

Aaxe c HeHaBHCTbio. ripoB03rAacHA MHp CBo6oAy, B nocAeAHee BpeMH OCO6CHHO, H HTO x e

BHAHM B 3TOH C B o 6 o A e HXHeH: OAHO AHIUb p a 6 c T B O H CaMOy6HHCTBO! H 6 o M H p TOBOpHT:

«MMeenib noTpe6HOCTH, a noTOMy HacwmaH HX, H6O HMeeuib npaBa TaKHe xe , KaK H y

3HaTHeHiiiHx H 6oraTeHiiiHX AiOAeH. He 6oHca HacwiuaTb HX, HO Aaxe npHyMHOxaii» — BOT

HWHeiiiHee yneHHe MHpa. B STOM H BHA^T CBo6oAy. H HTO x e BMXOAHT H3 cero npaBa Ha

npHyMHOxeHHe noTpe6HOcreH? Y 6oraTbix yeAHHeHHe H AyxoBHoe caMoy6HHCTBO, a y

6eAHwx — 3aBHCTb H y6HHCTBo, H6O npaBa-TO AaAH, a cpeACTB HacbiTHTb noTpe6HOCTH eme He

yKa3aAH... (Dostoevsky 1991a, 352)

22. A p y r o e ACAO nyTb HHOHCCKHH. HaA nocAymaHHeM, nocTOM H MOAHTBOH Aaxe CMeiOTOi, a

MexAy TeM AHUib B HHX 3aKAK)HaeTC>i nyTb K HacToaiueH, HCTHHHOH yxe CBO6OAC: OTceKaio OT

ce6a noTpe6HocTH AHUIHHC H HeHyxHbie, caMOAK)6HByio H ropAyio BOAIO MOIO cMHpaio H 6HHyio

nocAymaHHeM, H AOCTHraio TeM, c noMomnio 6oxbeH, CBO6OAM Ayxa, a c H « O H BeceAbfl

AyxoBHoro! KTO x e H3 HHX cnoco6Hee BO3HCCTH BeAHKyio MwcAb H noHra en cAyxHTb —

yeAHHeHHWH AH 6oran HAH ceii ocBo6oxAeHHHH OT THpaHCTBa Beiuen H npHBbineK? HHOKa

KopaT ero yeAHHeHHeM: «yeAHHHACH TH, HTO6W ce6% cnacTH B MOHacTbipcKHX CTeHax, a

6paTCKoe CAyxeHHe HeAOBenecTBy 3a6wA». H o nocMOTpHM eme, KTO 6oAee 6paTOAK)6Hio

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noycepACTByeT? H6o yeAHHeHHe He y Hac, a y HHX, HO He BHA>IT cero. A OT Hac H H3ApeBAe

Ae^TeAH HapoAHbie BMXOAHAH, OTHero ace He MOXCT HX 6biTb H Tenepb? Te ace CMHpeHHtie H

KpoTKHe nocTHHKH H MOAiaAbHHKH BoccTaHyT H noHAyT Ha BeAHKoe ACAO. (Dostoevsky 1991a,

353)

23. O T ropoAa AO MOHacrwpji 6WAO He 6oAee BepcTH c He6oAbiiiHM. A/veina cneuiHO noiueA no

nycTMHHOH B 3TOT nac Aopore. IloHTH yxce CTaAa HOHb, B TpHAuaTH marax TpyAHO yxe 6MAO

pa3AHHaTb npeAMeTW. H a noAOBHHe AoporH npnxoAHAOi nepeKpecTOK. H a nepeKpecTKe, noA

yeAHHeHHOio paKHTOH, 3aBHAeAacb KaKaa-TO <|>Hrypa. ToAbKO HTO AAeuia BCTynHA Ha

nepeKpecTOK, KaK cJ>Hrypa copBaAacb c MecTa, 6pocnAacb Ha Hero H HeHCTOBbiM TOAOCOM

npoKpHHaAa:

— KouieAeK HAH XH3Hb! (Dostoevsky 1991a, 174)

24. "B nac He6wBaAO xapicoro 3aKaTa, B MOCKBC, Ha naTpnapinHX npyAax, no^BHAHCb Asa

rpaacAaHHHa" (Bulgakov 2004b, 97).

25. "B TOT nac, KorAa yac, KaxeTca, H CHA He 6MAO AHiuarb, KorAa coAHue, pacKaAHB MocKBy, B

cyxoM TyMaHe BaAHAOCb KyAa-TO 3a CaAOBoe KOAbup, — HHKTO He npniueA noA AHnw, HHKTO He

ceA Ha CKaMeHKy, nycTa 6biAa aAAe>i" (Bulgakov 2004b, 97-98) .

26. "B nac He6biBaAO acapKoro 3aKaTa" (Bulgakov 2004b, 97)

27. BMCOKHH TeHop EepAH03a pa3HOCHAca B nycTWHHOH aAAee, H no Mepe TOTO, KaK MnxaHA

AAeKcaHApoBHH 3a6npaAca B Ae6pn, B KOTopbie MoaceT 3a6HpaTbca, He pncKya CBepHyTb ce6e

meio, AHiub oneHb o6pa30BaHHHH HeAOBeK, — no3T y3HaBaA Bee 6oAbiue a 6oAbiue

HHTepecHoro H noAe3Horo H npo ernneTCKoro OsnpHca, 6AarocTHoro 6ora H a m a He6a H

3eMAH, H npo <|>HHHKHHCKoro 6ora 4>aMMy3a, H npo MapAyKa, H Aaace npo MeHee H3BecTHoro

rpo3Horo 6ora BnuAHnyHAH, KOToporo BecbMa noHHTaAH HeKorAa airreKH B MCKCHKC

(Bulgakov 2004b, 100)

28. (rAyxoe MecTo).

29. 3anyTaTbc^B Ae6pax (+g).

30. "OoMa nocneiiiHA, Aa AK>ACH HacMeniHA—yBa3 Ha riaTpHapuiHX."

31. TyT npHKAiOHHAacb BTopaa CTpaHHOCTb, Kacaiomaaca OAHOTO BepAH03a. O H BHe3anHO

nepecTaA HKaTb, cepAue ero CTyKHyAO a Ha MraoBeHbe KyAa-TO npoBaAHAOCb, noTOM BepHyAocb,

HO c Tyroii HTAOH, 3aceBiueH B HCM. KpoMe TOTO, BepAH03a oxBaTHA Heo6ocHOBaHHHH, HO CTOAB

CHAbHbifi CTpax, HTO eMy 3axoTeAOCb TOTHac >Ke 6e>KaTb c riaTpHapuiHX 6e3 OTAHAKH. (Bulgakov

2004b, 98)

32. "H BOT, KaK pa3 B TO BpeMH, KorAa MnxaHA AAeKcaHApoBHH paccKa3MBaA noaTy o TOM, KaK

airreKH AenHAH H3 TecTa <j>HrypKy BnuAHnyiiAH, B aAAee noKa3aAca nepBHH HCAOBCK" (Bulgakov

2004b, 100).

33. A HHOCTpaHeu, OKHHyA B3rAHAOM BbicoKHe AOMa, KBaApaTOM OKafiMAHBUiHe npyA, npnneM

3aMeTHO CTaAO, HTO BHAHT 3TO MeCTO B n e p B b i e H HTO OHO e r o 3aHHTepeCOBaAO. O H OCTaHOBHA

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B3op Ha BepHHX 3Ta>Kax, ocAenHTeAbHO OTpaMcaiomux B CTeKAax H3AOMaHHoe H HaBcerAa

yxoAjiinee OT MnxaHAa AAeKcaHApoBHna coAHue, 3aTeM nepeBeA ero BHH3, rAe CTeKAa HanaAH

npeABeiepHe TeMHeTb.... (Bulgakov 2004b, 101)

34. — rio3BOAbTe Bac no6AaroAapHTb OT Been Aymn!

— 3a HTO 3TO BM ero 6AaroAapnTe? — 3aMopraB, OCBCAOMHAOI Be3AOMHWH.

— 3a oneHb BaxHoe CBeAeHHe, KOTopoe MHe, KaK nyTemecTBeHHHKy, Hpe3BbinaHHO

HHTepeCHO....

BaxHoe CBeAeHHe, no-BHAOMOMy, AencTBHTeAbHO npoH3BeAO Ha nyTeiuecTBeHHHKa

CHAbHoe BneneTAeHHe, noTOMy HTO OH HcnyraHHO O6BCA TAa3aMH AOMa, KaK 6u onacaacb B

KaxAOM OKHe yBHAerb no aTencTy. (Bulgakov 1004b, 103-04)

35. "Ha py6exe XVI-XIX BCKOB 3CMAH caAa < AKBapnyM> H nacTH coceAHero BAaAeHHa (B.

CaAOBaa VA., A- 14) 6wAa 3aHHTa oropoAaMH H npyAOM HoBOAeBHHbero MOHacTwpa..." (ht tp: /

/www.otdihinfo.ru/catalog/478.html).

36. Ho, — npoAOAxaA HH03eMeij, ne CMymaacb H3yMAeHHeM BepAH03a H o6pamaacb K

noaTy, — crnpaBHTb ero B COAOBKH HCBO3MO>KHO no TOH npHHHHe, HTO OH yxe c AHUIKOM CTO

ACT npe6biBaeT B MecTax 3HaHHTeAbHO 6oAee oTAaAeHHbix, neM COAOBKH, H H3BAenb ero OTTyAa

HHKOHM o6pa30M HeAb3fl, yBepaio Bac! (Bulgakov 2004b, 105)

37. ...BaM He npnxoAHAOCb, rpaxAaHHH, 6biBaTb KorAa-Hn6yAb B AeHe6HHue AAJI

AyuieBHo6oAbHbix?...

H o HHOCTpaHei HHHyTb He o6HACAca H npeBeceAO paccMeflAca.

— BwBaA, 6wBaA, H He pa3! — BCKpnnaA OH, CMcacb, HO He CBOA^ HecMeioineroai rAa3a c

no3Ta. — TAC a. TOAbKO He 6biBaA! (Bulgakov 2004b, 101)

38. "BoAa B npyAe nonepHeAa, H AerKaa AOAOHKa yxe CKOAb3HAa no Hen, H CAwmaAOi nAecK

BecAa H CMeniKH KaKOH-TO rpa>KAaHKH B AOAOHKC B aAAeax Ha CKaMeHKax noaBHAacb ny6AHKa,

HO on.HTb-TaKH Ha Bcex Tpex CTopoHax KBaApaTa, KpoMe TOH, rAe 6MAH HauiH co6eceAHHKH"

(Bulgakov 2004b, 138-39)

3 9 . O H e T ! 3 T O MOJKeT KTO n O A T B e p A H T b ! HaHHHafl rOBOpHTb AOMaHbIM H3bIKOM,

Hpe3BWHaHHO yBepeHHO OT03BaACH npo<j>eccop H HeoxHAaHHO TaHHCTBeHHO noMaHHA O6OHX

npnaTeAeH K ce6e no6AH>Ke.

Te HaKAOHHAHCb K HeMy co o6enx CTopoH, H OH CKa3aA, HO yace 6e3 BCflKoro aKueHTa,

KOTopwji y Hero, nepT 3HaeT noneMy, TO nponaA, TO noaBAaAca:

— A e A O B TOM... — TyT npo<J>eccop nyrAHBO orAHHyAca H 3aroBopHA menoTOM, — HTO SI

AHHHO npHcyTCTBOBaA npH BceM 3TOM. H Ha 6aAKOHe y noHTHH riHAaTa, H B caAy, KorAa OH c

KaH(j>OH pa3roBapHBaA, H Ha noMOCTe, HO TOAbKO TaHHO, HHKOTHHTO, TaK CKa3aTb, TaK HTO

npomy Bac — HHKOMy HH CAOBa H noAHeHuiHH cexpeT... (Bulgakov 2004b, 140-41)

40. A a TOAbKO HTO CHK) MHHyTy npnexaA B MocKBy, — pacTepaHHO OTBeTHA npoêccop, H TyT

TOAbKO npn^TeAH AoraAaAHCb 3arAHHyTb eMy KaK CAeAyeT B TAa3a H y6eAHAHCb B TOM, HTO

AeBHH, 3eAeHMH, y Hero coBepmeHHO 6e3yMeH, a npaBMH — nycT, nepeH H MepTB." (Bulgakov

2004b, 140)

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http://www.otdihinfo.ru/catalog/478.html


41. TyT 6e3yMHHH pacxoxoTaAca TaK, HTO H3 AHnbi HaA roAOBaMH CHA-amnx BwnopxHyA

Bopo6efi.

— Hy, y>K 3TO noAO^CHTeAbHO HHTepecHO, — Tp.acacb OT xoxoTa, nporcmopHA

npoêccop, — HTO yae STO y Bac, nero HH XBaTHiiiboi, HHHero Her! — O H nepecTaA xoxoTarb

BHe3anHO H, HTO BnoAHe noH^THO npH AyuieBHOH 6OAC3HH, nocAe xoxoTa BnaA B Apyryio

KpaHHOCTb pa3Apa>KHAOI H KpHKHyA CypOBO: T a K , CTaAO 6bITb, TaK-TaKH H H e T y ?


4 1 . "CicoAbKO HBaH He npH6aBAaA iuary, paccToaHHe Me>KAy npecAeAyeMWMH H HM HHHyTb He

coKpamaAocb" (Bulgakov 2004b, 147).

43. OAHaKO yAaHH He 6MAO. YIO3T H mary npH6aBAHA, H pwcupH HanaA 6exaTb, TOAKaa

npoxo^cHX, H HH Ha caHTHMeTp He npH6AH3HAca K npoêccopy.

KaK HH 6MA paccTpoeH HBaH, Bee yme ero nopa^caAa Ta CBepxiecTecTBeHHaa cxopocTb, c

KOTopoii npoHcxoAHAa noroH.a.... H BOT 3Aecb-TO HBaH HHKOAaeBHH oKOHnaTeAbHO noTepÂ

Toro, KTO 6MA eMy TaK HyaceH. npo<J>eccop Hcne3 (Bulgakov 2004b, 148-49).

44 . "Ha BpoHHOH y>Ke 3axrAHCb <[>OHapH, a HaA naTpnapiiiHMH CBeTHAa 30AOTaa AyHa, H B

AyHHOM, BcerAa o6MaHHHBOM, CBeTe HBaHy HnKOAaeBHHy noKa3aAocb, HTO TOT CTOHT, Aepaca

noA MbiuiKOK) He TpocTb, a iunary" (Bulgakov 2004b, 145).

45. "B noAOBHHe OAHHHaAuaToro naca Toro Benepa, KorAa BepAH03 norn6 Ha naTpnapiiiHx, B

rpH6oeAOBe HaBepxy 6biAa ocBemeHa TOABKO OAna KOMHara, H B Hen TOMHAHO> ABeHaAuaTb

AHTepaTopoB, co6paBiuHxca Ha 3aceAaHHe H o>KHAaBiiiHX MnxaHAa AAeKcaHApoBHHa"

(Bulgakov 2004b, 156).

46. ...HBaH HHKOAaeBHH noAH.aA cBeny H BCKpHnaA: — BpaTba no AHTepaType! (OcnniuHH

roAoc ero OKpen H CTaA ropaneH.) CAymaHTe MCHX Bee! O H no^BHAca! AOBHTC x e ero

HeMeAAeHHO, HHane OH HaTBopHT HeonncyeMbix 6eA!

— HTO? HTO? HTO OH CKa3aA? KTO noaBHAca? — noHecAHCb roAOca co Bcex CTopoH.

— KoHcyAbTaHT! — oTBeTHA HBaH, — H 3TOT KOHcyAbTaHT cennac y6nA Ha naTpHapuiHx

Mnuiy BepAH03a.

3Aecb H3 BHyTpeHHero 3aAa noBaAHA Ha BepaHAy HapoA, BOKpyr HBaHOBa orHa CABHHyAacb

TOAna.

BHHOBaT, BHHOBaT, CKa>KHTe TOHHee, nOCAHUiaAC^ HaA yXOM H B a H a THXHH H

BOKAHBMH roAoc, — CKa>KHTe, KaK 3TO y6HA? KTO y6nA?

H H O C T p a H H M H KOHCyAbTaHT, npO(J>eCCOp H I I H I H O H ! 0 3 H p a ^ C b , O T 0 3 B a A O I H B a H .

— A KaK ero âMHAaa? — THXO cnpocHAH Ha yxo.

— TO-TO (|>aMHAH.a! — B TOCKe KpHKHyA HBaH, — Ka6w a 3HaA 4>aMHAHio! He pa3TAaAeA>i

<j>aMHAHK> Ha BH3HTHOH K a p T O H K C . H o M H I O TOAbKO n e p B y i O 6 y K B y « B e » , H a « B e » ^ a M H A H H !

KaKaa >Ke STO <J>aMHAHfl Ha « B e » ? — cxBaTHBiuncb pyKoio 3a AO6 caM y cc6n cnpocHA HBaH H

BApyr 3a6opMOTaA: — Be, Be, Be! Ba... Bo... Baumep? Baraep? BaHHep? BerHep? BnHTep? —

BOAOCM Ha roAOBe HBaHa CTaAH e3AHTb OT Hanp^xeHHa (Bulgakov 2004b, 163).

47. "TaK CAyuiaiiTe ace: BHepa BenepoM % Ha naTpnapiUHX npyAax BCTpeTHAca c TaHHCTBeHHoio

AHHHOCTbio, HHOcrpaHueM He HHOCTpaHueM, KOTopwH 3apaHee 3HaA o CMepTH BepAH03a H

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AHHHO BHAeA EIOHTHK riHAaTa" (Bulgakov 2004b, 193).

48. CBHTa 6e3MOABHO H He uieBeAHCb CAyuiaAa noaTa.

— ElHAaTa? riHAaT, STO — KOTopbiii 5KHA npH HHcyce Xpncre? — mypacb Ha HBaHa,

CnpOCHA CTpaBHHCKHH.

— TOT caMMH.

— Ara, — CKa3aA GrpaBHHCKHH, — a STOT BepAH03 norH6 noA TpaMBaeM?

— BOT x e HMeHHO ero BHepa npn MHe H 3ape3aAO TpaMBaeM Ha riaTpHapuiHX, npnieM 3TOT

caMbiii 3araAOHHWH rpa^cAaHHH... (Bulgakov 2004b, 193)

49. — H BM AK>6uje ero, KaK n BHJKV, — CKa3aA BAaAHMHp MHPOHOBHH, npniuypHBUiHCb.

— Koro?

— Hncyca.

>I? CnpOCHA HeH3BeCTHMH H nOKaiHAHA, KX... KX, HO HHHeTO H e OTBeTHA.

(Bulgakov 2000)

50. — KcTaTH, HeKOTophie rAaBH H3 Baiuero eBaHreAHa a 6M HanenaTaA B MoeM

«Eoro6opue» , — CKa3aA BAaAHMHp MHPOHOBHH, — npaBAa, npH ycAOBHH HeKOTopbix

HcnpaBAeHHH.

— CoTpyAHHâTb y Bac a cneA 6M câcTbeM, — BexAHBO MOABHA HeH3BecTHMH, — HO BeAb

BApyr 6yAeT Apyroii peAaKTop. HepT 3HaeT, KOTO Ha3HanaT. (Bulgakov 2000)

51. — MeHH BM3yaA, — O6T>JICHHA HHxeHep, npnneM HanHHaA BbiroBapHBaTb CAOBa Bee

xyxe... — x Bee ycTpaHAb...

— A-a... — oneHb noHTHTeAbHO H npHBeTAHBO CKa3aA BepAH03, — 3TO oneHb npnaTHO. BM,

Bepo^THO, cnei^naAHCT no MeTaAAyprHH? (Bulgakov 2000)

52. — CTOHTe!! — rpoMOBMM TOAOCOM BOCKAHKHyA KOHcyAbTaHT, — CTOHTe! HBaHyuiKa

3aCTMA Ha MeCTC

— riocAe Moero eBaHreAH^, nocAe Toro, HTO % paccica3aA 0 Hemya, BM, BAaAHMHp

MnpoHOBH1*, HeyacTO BM He ocTaHOBHTe lOHoro 6e3yMua?! A BM, — H HHxeHep o6paTHACH K

He6y, — BM CAMiuaAH, HTO si necTHO paccKa3aA?! A^! — M ocTpbiii naAeu, HHxeHepa BOH3HAOI B

He6o. — OcTaHOBHTe ero! OcTaHOBHTe!! BM — crapuiHH! (Bulgakov 2000)

53. "TpaMBan npoexaA no BpoHHOH. H a 3aAHeH nAomaAKe CTOAA IlHAaT, B nAame H

caHAaAHKX, AepxaA B pyxax nopT<j>eAb. 'CnMnaTara STOT JlHAaT, — noAyMaA HBaHyuiKa, —

nceBAOHHM BapAaaM Co6aKHH..."' (Bulgakov 2000)

54. HBaHyuiKa 3aAOMHA KapTy3HK Ha 3arMAOK, BbinycTHA /py6axy/, KaK canoxKaMH TonHyA,

ABHHyA MexH 6a«Ha, B3AOXHyA ceMHCOTpy6AeBMH 6a^H H rp^HyA:

KaK noexaA Haui ElHAaT

Ha pa6oTy B HapKOMar.

Tbi-rap-ra, MaTM-rapra!

— TppL — OT03BaAca CBHCTOK. CypoBMH TOAOC nocAbiuiaAca:

— TpaxAaHKH! EleTb noA naAbMaMH He noAaraeTca. He AAH TOTO caxaAH HX.

— B caMOM AeAe. He BHAaA n naAbM, HTO AH, — CKa3aA HBaHyuiKa, — Aa Hy HX K AbicoMy

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6ecy. MHe 6M y BacHAHa EAaxeHHoro Ha nanepTH CHAeTb... (Bulgakov 2.000)

55. H TOHHO, yHHHHACH HBaHyuiKa Ha nanepTH. H CHACA HBaHyuiKa, norpoMMXHBaa

BepHraMH, a H3 xpaMa BWXOAHA CTpauiHbra rpeiuHbiii HCAOBCK: HcnoAy — u,apb, HcnoAy —

MOHax. B Tpacymeiica pyKe AepâA nocox, ocTpbiM KOHHOM ero pa3AHpaA nAHTw. EHAH

KOAOKOAa. Ta«AO.

— CTyAHbie AÂa TBOH, ijapb, — cypoBO CKa3aA eMy HBaHyuiKa, — AK>T H 6ecHeAOBeHeH,

nbeuib ry6HTeAbHbie o6eiuaHHbie AHaBOAOM naiuH, BceAyKaBbiii MHHX. Hy, a Aaii MHe AeHe>KKy,

uapb HBaHyuiKa, noMOAioca yxo 3a Te6a.

OTBenaA eMy uapb, 3anAaKaBuiH:

— rioHTO nyxaeuib uapa, HBaHyuiKa. Ha Te6e ACHOKKy, HBaHyuiKa-BepHXHHK, EO>KHH

neAOBeK, noMOAHCb 3a MCHH! H 3BJIKHyAH MeA^KH B A e p e B a H H O H HaUIKC

3aBepTeAOCb Bee B TOAOBC y HBaHyuiKH, H yuieA noA 3eMAio BacHAHH BAaxeHHWH. OHHVACH

HBaH Ha TpaBe B cyMepKax Ha naTpnapuiHX npyAax, H nponaAH naAbMw, a Ha MecTe HX

6ecnoKOHHbie KOMMyHbi yxe Annbi nocaAHAH.

— A H ! — xaAo6HO CKa3aA HBaHyuiKa, — a, KaxeTca, c yMa COUICA! O H , KOHCIJ...

O H 3anAaKaA, noTOM BApyr BCKOHHA Ha Horn. (Bulgakov 2000)

56. "<...Aaio BaMi) MynaiiiHMca A^Hb H Homi. OTT> BeAHKaro neTBepra AO CBaTbia naraKOCTHa,

HMfere BM noKOH H npocAaBHTe OTua H Cbma H CB^Taro Ayxa>. H OTBimama BCH: <CAaBa

MHAOCepAHK) TBOeMy> "

57. H noacTa Ma Ha BTopoe He6o Myxa THH, H nocTaBHCTa Ma Ha BTopeMT* He6ecH, H noKa3acTa

MH yxHHKH, 6AK>AOMa cyAOMa 6e3M'tpHbiH. H Ty BHABX arreAM ocy>KAeHa, nAaniomH, H iAaroAax

MyxeMa, H>Ke co MHOIO: « H T O paAH MyieHa cyTb?» OTBtiuacTa KO MH-E Myxa: «3AOcrynHHUbi

TocnoAHH cyrb, He nocAymaioiua rAaca IbcnoAHa, HO CBoeio BOAeio a>6n>u}aeuie». H noacaAHx

CH 0 HHX. noKAOHHuia MH CR arreAH, ptuia: «My)Kio BoxcbH, Aa ca noMOAHA o Hac KO

TocnoAy». H OTBimax K HHM, H pKox: « K T O ecMb a3T>—neAOB'BK'b MepTBeH, Aa ca noMOAio o

arreABx; KTO ymt BicTb, KaMo noHAy HAH KTO ycpameT Ma, HAH KTO HOMOAHT ca o MHtPxv

58. H Ba3CTa Ma OTTyAy My>Ka, H B03HecocTa Ma Ha ceB'fep'b He6ecB, H noKa3acTa MH Ty Micro

CTpauiHO 3 ^ 0 : BcaKa MyKa Ha MicTB TOMT>, H TMH, H MrAa, H HicTb Ty cBBTa, HO orHb MpaneH

BT>3rapaa ca...H ptKa orHeHHaa HaxoA^mH Ha Bca M^CTa Ta...H arreAH AKvreH H HanpacHB,

Hocaiuen opyxne H Myname 6e3 MHAOCTH. H pKox: «KoAb CTpauiHO MBCTO ce 3eAo!» H

OTBimacTa KO MHB My>Ka: « C e MBCTO, EHOUIC, yroTOBaHO ecTb HenecTHBbiM, TBopamHMT>

6e36oxHaa no 3eMAH. Mace He no3Hauia TBopua CBoero, HO noKAOHHuia ca 6OTOMT> cyeTHWM...

noKAOHaioT ca pyHHOMy TBopeHHio. H CHM BCBM yroTOBaHO ecTb MBCTO ce B AOCToaHHe

B'BHHOe».

59. H B3acTa Ma OTTyAy Myxa, H B03HecocTa Ma Ha naToe He6o. H BHABX Ty MHora BOS

HrpHropbH, eudnxt 200. Sbao BHABHHa neAOB'BHecKO, BeAHMecTBo x e HXT> Bame HIOAOBTJ

BeAHKwx, H AHua HX ApÂa, H MOAnaHHe ycfb HXT>, H He 6-B CAyxeHHa. H iAaroAaxT> My>KeMa,

cyuiHMa co MHOIO: « H T O AÂMa cyTb AP^XAO 3 ^ 0 H yHMAa AHua HX, H ycra HX MOAnama, H

HBCTb CAyac6bi Ha He6ecfe H M ? » H OTBimacTa KO MH^ Myxa: « C e cyTb rpHropHH, nxe OTTpry

or Tocnoda. <...> H CHHAomaHa 3eMAio, H npeTopry o6BmaHHe HapaMt rop t EpMOHOHHa,

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ocKBp'bHflTH ex >KeHaMH HeAOBtHecKaMH, H ocKBptHHiua CH. H ocyAH a IbcnoAB> H c i pwAaiOT o

6paTbH CBoeH, H orapH3HH 6 H B U I H » . A3 ace rAaroAaxi> rpHropoM-b: «A3 BHAix 6paTHK> Bamy, H

TBopeHHa HX pasyMix, H MOAeHHa HXT> ce BHAH, H MOAHX ca o HHX. H ce ocyAHA ecTb TocnoAB

noA 3eMAK), AOHAe ce acoHnaiOT ca He6eca H 3CMAH. Aa BOCKyio acAeTe 6paTHa CBoea, a HECTC

CAy^came B AHue IbcnoAHe? EIocTaBHTe CAyac6w 6MBIIIH;I, CAy>KHTe BO HMX IbcnoAHe! ErAa KaKO

pa3rHt>BaeTe IbcnoAa Bora Bamero, CBpbaceT BM C Micra cero».

CToaiuy MHt BT>CTpy6Hina BI> 4 Tpy6bi BKyni H BOCAyxnuia rpHropi, AKO eAHH'BM'b TAacoMb

B3HAe rAac HX B AHije TocnoAHe.

60. H HeAOBiicL erAa noAO^CHTt rAaroAb Ha cepAUH npHHecra Aapi> npeA AHue

IbcnoAHe, H p y n i eMy He coTBop>n"i> Toro, TorAa OTBpaTHTt IbcnoA TpyA pyKT> ero, H He

o6p,BTeHHa. ErAa coTBopncTe pyne ero, TH n p o n m e r b cepAue ero, HH npecTaeTt 6oAE3Hb

cepAiâ ero, noponTaHHe c n i n m o . BAaaceHt neAOBiKTb, B TepniHHH CBoeMt npHHeceT'b

Aapi> npeA AHue IbcnoAHe, >IKO o6pxw,eT?> oTAaHHe, H neAOBtK erAa AacTb BpeMa HapoKa

OT ycn> CBOHX npHHecTH Aapi> npeA AHue IbcnoAHe, TH coTBopHTb e — T O o6pameTi>

OTAaHHe; ame AH MHHeTb BpeMa HaponeTHoe, Bi>BpaTHT rAarcb CBOH, noKaaHHe ecTb He

6AarocAOBHT CH. 3aHe Bee npe^cAaHHe cb6Aa3aHT> TBopHTt.

61. — Bam poMaH npoHHTaAH, — 3aroBopHA BoAaHA, noBopaHHBaacb K MacTepy, — H CKa3aAH

TOAbKO OAHO, HTO OH, K coxaAeHHio, He OKOHHeH. TaK BOT, MHe xoTeAOCb noKa3aTb BaM Bainero

repoa. OKOAO AByx TMOIH ACT CHAHT OH Ha STOH nAoiuaAKe H cnHT, HO KorAa npnxoAHT noAHaa

AyHa, KaK BHAHTC, ero Tep3aeT 6eccoHHHua. OHa MynaeT He TOAtKO ero, HO H ero BepHoro

CTopoaca, co6aKy. ECAH BepHO, HTO TpycocTb — caMbifi TAXKHH nopoK, TO, noacaAyii, co6aica B

HeM He BHHOBaTa. (Bulgakov 2004b, 526-27)

6 2 . C T a p H H H W H AByX3Ta>KHhIH AOM KpeMOBOrO H B e T a IIOMeiUaAOI H a 6 y A b B a p H O M KOAbHe B

TAy6HHe naxAoro caAa, OTAeAeHHoro OT TpoTyapa KOAbua pe3Hoio nyryHHOio peuieTKOH.

He6oAbiuaa nAoiuaAKa nepeA AOMOM 6biAa 3aac<j>aAbTHpoBaHa, H B 3HMHee BpeMa Ha Heft

B03BbimaAC^ cyrpo6 c AonaTOH, a B AeTHee BpeMH OHa npeBpamaAacb B BeAHKOAenHeHmee

OTAeAeHHe AeTHero pecTopaHa noA napycHHOBMM TCHTOM.

A o M Ha3MBaACa « A O M O M r p H 6 o e A O B a » H a T O M OCHOBaHHH, HTO 6yATO 6 b l HeKOTAaHM

BAaAeAa TeTica nHcareAa — AAeKcaHApa CepreeBHHa rpH6oeAOBa. Hy BAaAeAa HAH He

BAaAeAa — MM TOTO He 3HaeM. FIOMHHTCS Aaxe, HTO, KaxeTca, HHKaKOH TeTKH-AOMOBAaAeAHUM

y TpH6oeAOBa He 6WAO... OAHaKO AOM TaK Ha3biBaAH. BoAee Toro, OAHH MOCKOBCKHH BpyH

paCCKa3WBaA, HTO >IKo6bI BOT BO BTOpOM 3Ta>Ke, B KpyrAOM 3 a A e C KOAOHHaMH, 3HaMCHHTbIH

nHCaTeAb HHTaA OTpblBKH H 3 « I b p . a OT y M a » 3TOH CaMOH TeTKC p a C K H H y B U i e H C a Ha CO<|>e, a

BnponeM, nepT ero 3HaeT, MO>KCT 6biTb, H HHTaA, He Ba cHO STO!

A BaacHo TO, HTO B HacTOjmjee BpeMH BAaAeA STHM AOMOM TOT caMwii M A C C O A H T , BO rAaBe

KOToporo CTOAA HecHacTHWH MnxanA AAeKcaHApoBHH BepAH03 AO CBoero no^BAeHHa Ha

riaTpHapiHHX npyAax. (Bulgakov 2004b, 152-53)

63. M A C C O A H T pa3MecTHAca B FpH6oeAOBe TaK, HTO Aynuie H yioTHee He npnAyMaTb. BC^KHH,

BXOA-HmHH B r p H 6 o e A O B a , n p e X A C BCerO 3HaKOMHACJI HeBOAbHO C H 3 B e m e H H « M H p a 3 H W X

C n o p T H B H W X Kpy^CKOB H C T p y n n O B M M H , a TaiQKe HHAHBHAyaAbHWMH ^ O T O r p a ^ H ^ M H HAeHOB

MACCOAHTa, KOTopwMH (ÔTorpa^HaMn) 6WAH yBeiuaHM CTeHW AecTHHi bi, BeAyiuen BO

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BTopofi 3Tax. (Bulgakov 2004b, 153)

64. H a Asepax nepBOH x e KOMHaTM B STOM BepxHeM 3Taxe BHAHeAacb KpynHaa HaAnncb

«Pw6HO-AaHHaa ceKH,Hfl», H TyT x e 6 MA H3o6paxeH Kapach, nonaBiiiHHOi Ha yAy.

H a ABepax KOMHaTM N 2 6MAO HanHcaHO HTO-TO He COBCCM noH^THoe: «OAHOAHeBHaa

TBOpnecKaa nyTeBKa. 06pamaTbO[ K M. B. I IOAAOXHOH».

CAeAyioma^ ABepb HecAa Ha ce6c KpaTKyio, HO yxe BOBce HenoHaTHyio HaAnHCb:

«riepeAMrHHO». EIOTOM y CAynaHHoro noceraTeAH rpH6oeAOBa HanHHaAH pa36eraTbca rAa3a

OT HaAnHceii, necTpeBiuHX Ha opexoBbix TeTKHHMX ABepax: «3anHCb B onepeAb Ha 6yMary y

rioKAeBKHHOH», «Kacca», «AHHHbie pacneTH CKCTHHCTOB»...

ripope3aB AAHHHeHiuyio onepeAb, HanHHaBinyrooi yxe BHH3y B niBeHuapcKOH, MOXHO 6MAO

BHAeTb HaAnncb Ha AêpH, B KOTopyio execeKyHAHO AOMHACH HapoA: «KBapTnpHbiH Bonpoc».

(Bulgakov 1004b, 153-54)

65. 3a KBapTHpHMM BonpocoM OTKpbiBaAca pocKOuiHHH nAaKaT, Ha KOTopoM H3o6paxeHa

6biAa CKaAa, a no rpe6Hio ee exaA BcaAHHK B 6ypKe H C BHHTOBKOH 3a nAenaMH. IIoHHxe —

naAbMbi H 6aAKOH, Ha 6aAKOHe — CHAAIUHH MOAOAOH HCAOBCK C XOXOAKOM, rAHAflmnii KyAa-To

BBbicb OHeHb-oneHb 6OHKHMH rAa3aMH H AepxainHH B pyice caMonHiuymee nepo. rioAnHCh:

«noAHOo6T>eMHbie TBopnecKHe OTnycKa OT A^yx HeAeAb (paccKa3-HOBeAAa) AO OAHOTO roAa

(poMaH, TpHAorafl). iLvra, CyyK-Cy, BopoBoe, UHXHA3HPH, MaxHHAxaypH, AeHHHrpaA

(3HMHHH ABopeii)». y 3TOH ABepH Taicxe 6wAa onepeAb, HO He Hpe3MepHaa, HCAOBCK B

noATopacTa. (Bulgakov 2004b, 154)

66. AaAee CAeAOBaAH, noBHHyacb npHxoTAHBMM H3ra6aM, noAbeMaM H cnycKaM

FpH6oeAOBCKoro AOMa, — «ripaBAeHHeMACCOAHTa», «KaccbiNe 2, 3, 4, 5»,

«PeAaKi^HOHHaa KOAAerHa», «ripeAceAaTeAbMACCOAHTa», «BHAb^pAHaa», pa3AHHHwe

noACo6Hwe ynpexAeHHfl, HaKOHeu., TOT caMMH 3aA c KOAOHHaAOH, rAe TeTKa HacAaxAaAacb

KOMeAHefi reHHaAbHoro nAeM^HHHKa. (Bulgakov 2004b, 154)

67. Becb HHXHHH 3Tax TCTKHHOTO AOMa 6MA 3aH«T pecTopaHOM, H KaKHM pecTopaHOM! I lo

CnpaBeAAHBOCTH OH CHHTaAOI CaMbIM AyHUIHM B MoCKBe. H He TOAbKO nOTOMy, HTO

pa3MemaAOi OH B AByx 6oAbuiHX 3aAax co CBOAHaTMMH noTOAKaMH, pacnHcaHHHMH AHAOBMMH

AomaAbMH c accnpHHCKHMH rpHBaMH, He TOAbKO nOTOMy, HTO Ha KaxAOM CTOAHKe noMemaAacb

AaMna, HaKpwTaa inaAbio, He TOAbKO noTOMy, HTO TyAa He MOT npoHHKHyTb nepBWH

nonaBiuHiica HCAOBCK c yAHUM, a eme H noTOMy, HTO KanecTBOM CBOCH npoBH3HH rpH6oeAOB

6HA AK)6OH pecTopaH B MocKBe, KaK XOTCA, H HTO 3Ty npoBH3HK> OTnycKaAH no caMoii CXOAHOH,

OTHioAb He o6peMeHHTeAbHoii ueHC (Bulgakov 2004b, 155)

68. — 5i He yroBapHBaio Te6a, AMBPOCHH, — nnujaA OoKa. — A ° M a MOXHO noyxHHaTb.

— CAyra noKopHHH, — Tpy6HA AMBPOCHH, — npeACTaBAHio ce6e TBOIO xeHy,

nbiTaiomyioca coopyAHTb B KacTpiOAbKe B o6meH KyxHe AOMa nopuHOHHbie cyAaHKH a

HaTiopeAb! (Bulgakov 2004b, 156)

69. H poBHO B noAHOHb B nepBOM H3 HHX HTO-TO rpoxHyAO, 3a3BeHeAO, nocwnaAOCb,

3anpbiraAO. H TOTHac TOHeHbKHH MyxcKOH TOAOC OTHaaHHO 3aKpHHaA noA My3HKy:

«AAAHAyHa!!» 3TO yA,apHA 3HaMeHHTbIH rpH6oeAOBCKHH frK£3. OoKpblTbie HOiapHHOH AHUa

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KaK 6yATO 3acBeTHAHCt, noKa3aAOCb, HTO OXHAH Ha noTOAKe HapncoBaHHwe AOinaAH, B AaMnax

KaK 6yATO npH6aBHAH cBeTy, H BApyr, KaK 6w copBaBiiiHCb c uenH, 3anAjicaAH 06a 3aAa, a 3a

HHMH 3anAacaAa H BepaHAa.

3anAHcaA TAyxapeB c no3TeccoH TaMapoii noAyMec.au., 3anA>icaA KBaHT, 3anA»caA

^KyKOAOB-poMaHHCT c KaKOH-TO KHHoaKTpHCOH B aceATOM nAarbe. rLvacaAH: AparyHCKHH,

HepAaKHH, MaAeHBKHH ACHHCKHH c rHraHTCKofi LLTrypMaH AxopxeM, nAHcaAa KpacaBHua

apxHTeKTop CeMeHKHHa-raAA, KpenKO cxBaneHHan HeH3BecTHWM B 6CAMX poroxHwx 6piOKax.

IlAHcaAH CBOH H npHrAauieHHbie TOCTH, MOCKOBCKHC H npHe3XHe, nHcaTeAb HoraHH H3

KpoHUiTaATa, KaKOH-To BHTA Ky )THK H3 PocTOBa, KaaceTC , pexHeeep, c AHAOBHM AHinaeM BO

BCK) ineKy, nAHcaAH BHAHeHiiiHe npeACTaBHTeAH nosTHnecKoro noApa3AeAa MACCOAHTa , TO

eCTb EiaBHaHOB, BoTOXyAbCKHH, CAaAKHH, IIInHHKHH H AAeAb^HHa By3A^K, nASCaAH

HeH3BecTHOH npo<J>eccHH MOAOAbie AIOAH B CTpH»Ke 6OKCOM, c noA6HTMMH Baron nAenaMH,

nAHcaA KaKOH-TO oneHb no>KHAOH c 6opoAOH, B KOTopoH 3acTpaAO nepbiuiKo 3eAeHoro AyKa,

nAacaAa c HHM noaaiAaa, AoeAaeMaa MaAOKpoBHeM AeByuiKa B opaHaceBOM UICAKOBOM H3M^TOM

nAaxbHiê.

OnAbma^ noTOM, o<|>HU,HaHTbi HecAH HaA roAOBaMH 3anoTeBiiiHe KpyôcH c nHBOM, xpnnAO

H c HeHaBHCTbio KpnnaAH: «BHHOBaT, rpaxAaHHH!» rXe-To B pynope TOAOC KOMaHAOBaA:

«KapcKHH pa3! 3y6pHK ABa! OAJIKH rocnoAapcKHe!!» TOHKHH TOAOC y^ce He neA, a 3aBWBaA:

«AAAHAyHa!». FpoxoT 30AOTMX TapeAOK B A«a3e HHorAa noKpwBaA rpoxoT nocyAW, KOTopyio

cyAOMoiiKH no HaKAOHHOii IIAOCKOCTH cnycKaAH B KyxHio. CAOBOM, aA- (Bulgakov 2004b, 159—

60)

70. H 6WAO B noAHOHb BHACHHC B aAy. BbimeA Ha BepaHAy HepHorAa3MH KpacaBeu. c

KHHXaAbHOH 6opOAOH, BO <j>paKe H HapCTBeHHbIM B30pOM OKHHyA CBOH BAaAeHHfl. ToBOpHAH,

roBopHAH MHCTHKH, HTO 6MAO BpeMji, KorAa KpacaBeu. He HOCHA (J>paKa, a 6WA onoacaH

uinpoKHM KOxaHMM noacoM, H3-3a KOToporo TopnaAH pyKOHTH nHCTOAeTOB, a ero BOAOCH

BopoHOBa KpbiAa 6HAH noB.a3aHbi aAbiM uieAKOM, H nAbiA B KapaH6cKOM Mope noA ero

KOMaHAOH 6pnr noA nepHHM rpo6oBMM 4>AaroM c aAaMOBoii TOAOBOH.

H o HeT, HCT! AryT o6oAbCTHTeAH-MHCTHKH, HHKaKHX Kapan6cKHX Mopen HeT Ha CBeTe, H

He nAbmyT B HHX OTna^HHbie 4>AH6ycTbepbi, H He TOHHTOI 3a HHMH KopBeT, He CTeAeTca HaA

BOAHOK) nyuieHHWH AMM. HeT HHnero, H HHHero H He 6MAO! BOH naxAaa Anna ecTb, ecTb

nyryHHaa pemeTKa H 3a Hen 6yAbBap... H nAaBHTOi AeA B Ba30HKe, H BHAHM 3a COCCAHHM

CTOAHKOM HaAHTbie KpOBbK) HbH-TO 6bIHbH TAa3a, H CTpaillHO, CTpaiHHO... ( B u l g a k o v 2 0 0 4 b , 1 6 0 )

71. HaAO CKa3aTb, HTO KBaprapa 3Ta — N 50 — A^BHO y>Ke noAb30BaAacb ecAH He IIAOXOH, TO,

BO BCHKOM CAynae, CTpaHHOH penyTaiiHen. Eme ABa roAa TOMy Ha3aA BAaAeAHueH ee 6biAa BAOBa

K)BeAHpa AC Oyacepe. AHHa OpaHueBHa Ae Oyxepe, n^THAecaTHAeTHaa noHTeHHaa H oneHb

AeAOBa A^Ma, Tpn KOMHaTH H3 iiara CAaBaAajKHAbijaM: OAHOMy, <j>aMHAH.a KOToporo 6biAa,

Kaxcercx, BeAOMyT, H ApyroMy — c yTpaneHHOH <J>aMHAHeH.

H BOT ABa roAa TOMy Ha3aA HanaAHCb B KBapTHpe Heo6i>acHHMbie nponciuecTBHa: H3 3TOH

KBapTHpw AIOAH HanaAH 6eccAeAHO Hcne3aTb.

OAHaxAbi B BWXOAHOH A^Hb aBHAOi B KBapTHpy MHAHHHOHep, BW3BaA B nepeAHioio

BTOporo XHAbi a ( >aMHAH« KOToporo yrpaTHAacb) H CKa3aA, HTO TOTO npocaT Ha MHHyTKy

3afiTH B OTAeAeHHe MHAHI^HH B neM-TO pacnncaTboi. ^ C H A « ; npHKa3aA AH^HCC, npeAaHHOH H

AaBHen AOMauiHen pa6oTHHi;e AHHM <J>paHueBHbi, CKa3aTb, B CAynae ecAH eMy 6yAyT 3BOHHTb,

-230-

http://noAyMec.au


HTO OH BepHeTCfl H e p e 3 A e O I T b MHHyT, H y U i e A BMeCTe C KOppeKTHWM MHAHIIHOHepOM B 6 e A W X

nepnaTKax. H o He BepHyAOi OH He TOAI>KO nepe3 AeoiTb MHHyT, a BOo6me HHKorAa He BepHyAOi.

^\HBHTeAbHee Bcero TO, HTO, oneBHAHO, c HHM BMecTe Hcne3 H MHAHnnoHep.

Ha6oxHafl, a OTKpoBeHHee CKa3aTb — cyeBepHaa, AHcJwca TaK Hanp^MHK H 3ajiBHAa oneHb

paccTpoeHHOH AHHC <J>paHHeBHe, HTO 3TO KOAAOBCTBO H HTO OHa npeKpacHO 3HaeT, KTO yTaujHA

H X H A b U a H MHAHI^HOHepa, TOAbKO K HOHH H e XOHeT TOBOpHTb. H y , a KOAAOBCTBy, KaK H3BCCTHO,

CTOHT TOAbKO HaHaTbOI, 2. TaM y X e r O HHHeM H e OCTaHOBHIUb. B T O p O H X H A e i J HCHC3, nOMHHTCH,

B noHeAeAbHHK, a B cpeAy KaK CKB03b 3eMAio npoBaAHAca BeAOMyT, HO, npaBAa, npn Apyrax

o6cToaTeAbCTBax. YrpoM 3a HHM 3aexaAa, KaK O6MHHO, ManiHHa, HTO6M OTBC3TH ero Ha CAyx6y,

H OTBe3Aa, HO Ha3aA HHKOI-O He npHBe3Aa H caMa 6oAbiue He BepHyAacb. (Bulgakov 2004b, 176-

77)

72. A B a Ana npouiAH Koe-KaK. Ha Tperaii x e AeHb CTpaAaBiuaa Bee 3TO BpeMJi 6eccoHHHneH

AHHa <I>paHi eBHa omiTb-TaKH cneuiHO yexaAa Ha Aany... HyxHO AH roBopHTb, HTO OHa He

BepHyAacb!

OcTaBina^ca OAHa AH(J>Hca, HanAaKaBiuncb BBOAIO, AerAa cnaTb BO BTopoM nacy HOHH. HTO C

Hen 6HAO AaAbiue, HeH3BecTHO, HO paccKa3MBaAH XHAbnbi Apyrwx KBapTHp, HTO 6yATO 6w B N

5 0 - M BCK> HOHb CAHUiaAHCb KaKHe-TO CTyKH H 6yATO 6 b l AO y T p a B OKHaX TOpeA 3AeKTpHHeCKHH

CBeT. YrpoM BbiacHHAOCb, HTO H A H ^ H C W HCT! (Bulgakov 2004b, 177-78)

73. Eme B BaroHe, ACTA H3 MOCKBM, OH Bee AyMaA npo CMepA-HKOBa H npo nocAeAHHH CBOH

pa3roBop c HHM BenepoM HaKaHyHe OTT>e3Aa. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 105)

74. Ha HeTepneAHBMH cnpoc HBaHa OeAopoBHHa, HTO, «CTaAO 6wTb, OH Tenepb

cyMacuieAuiHH?», eMy OTBCTHAH, HTO «3TOTO B noAHOM CMWCAC eme HCT, HO HTO 3aMeHaioTca

HeKOTopwe HeHopMaAbHOCTH». (Dostoevsky 1991b, 106)

75. H o npnmypeHHbiH H KaK 6w Ha HTO-TO HaMeKaiomHH ACBMH TAa30K BbiAaBaA npexHero

CMepA^KOBa. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 106)

76. — A a TOABKO HTO CHK> MHHyTy npnexaA B MocKBy, — pacTep^HHO OTBeTHA npo<|>eccop, H

TyT TOAbKO npHATeAH AoraAaAHCb 3arA^HyTb eMy KaK CAeAyeT B rAa3a H y6eAHAHCb B TOM, HTO

AeBbiii, 3eAeHWH, y Hero coBepmeHHO 6e3yMeH, a npaBWH — nycT, nepeH H MepTB. (Bulgakov

2004b, 140)

77. KaK x e Tbi MHe TorAa npeACKa3aA H AeHb H nac, Aa eme H C norpe6oM? KaK ra MOT HanepeA

y3HaTb, HTO npoBaAHiubca HMCHHO B STOT norpe6 B npnnaAKe, ecAH He npHTBopHACH B naAynen

HapOHHO?

— B norpe6 HaAAexaAO H 6e3 Toro HATH-C, B AeHb no HecKOAbKy Aaxe pa3-c,— He enema

npoT^HyA CMepA^KOB.— TaK TOHHO TOA TOMy Ha3aA x c nepAaKa noAeTeA-c. BecnpeMeHHO TaK,

HTO naAynyio HeAb3a npeACKa3aTb BnepeA AHeM H nacoM, HO npeAnyBCTBHe BcerAa MOXHO HMeTb.

— A Tbi npeACKa3aA AeHb H nac!

— HacneT Moeii 6OAC3HH naAyneH-c ocBeAOMbTecb Bcero Aynme, cyAapb, y AOKTOPOB

3AeuiHHx: HCTHHHaa AH 6bL\a co MHOH aAH He HCTHHHaa, a MHe H roBopHTb BaM 6oAbme Ha ceil

npeAMeT Henero.

— A norpe6? norpe6-TO KaK Tbi npeAy3HaA?

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— A ^ A O I BaM 3TOT caMWH norpe6! 9L TorAa, KaK B STOT norpe6 noAe3, TO B crpaxe 6MA H B

cyMAeHHH; noTOMy 6oAbine B CTpaxe, HTO 6WA Bac AHIUHMIUHCB H HH OT Koro yxe 3amHTbi He

XAaA B neAOM MHpe. Ae3y a TorAa B STOT caMMH norpe6 H AyMaio: « B O T ceHnac npnAeT, BOT OHa

yAapHT, npoBaAiocb aAH HeT?», H OT caMoro 3Toro cyMAeHHa BApyr cxBaTHAa MeHa B ropAe 3Ta

caMaa HeMHHynaji cna3Ma-c... Hy H noAeTeA. Bee STO caMoe H Becb pa3roBop Ham npeAMAymHH c

BaMH-c, HaKaHyHe Toro AHA BenepoM y BopoT-c, KaK a BaM TorAa MOH CTpax coo6mHA H npo

norpe6-c,— Bee 3TO a B noApo6HOCTH OTKpMA rocnoAHHy AOKTopy repueHiiiTy6e H

CAeAOBaTeAio HHKOAaio riapêHOBHHy, H Bee OHH B npoTOKOA 3anHcaAH-c. A 3ACIUHHH AOKTOP

rocnoAHH BapBHHCKHH TaK npeA BCCMH HMH OCO6O HacTaHBaAH, HTO TaK HMCHHO OT AyMM OHO

H npoH30uiAO, OT caMofi TO ecTb TOH MHHTeAbHOCTH, «HTO BOT, AecKaTb, ynaAy aAb He ynaAy?»

A OHa TyT H noAXBaTHAa. TaK H 3anHcaAH-c, HTO 6ecnpeMeHHO 3TOMy TaK H HaAO 6HAO

npoH30HTH, OT eAHHoro TO ecrh Moero CTpaxy-c. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 108)

78. CMepAflKOB K TOMy BpeMeHH yace BbinncaAca H3 6oAbHHUM. HBaH OeAopoBHH 3HaA ero

HOByio KBapTHpy: HMeHHO B STOM nepeKOCHBiueMca 6peBeHnaTOM MaAeHbKOM AOMHIUKC B ABe

H36M, pa3AeAeHHbie CCHHMH. B OAHOH H36e noMecTHAach Mapwi KoHApaTbeBHa c MaTepbio, a B

ApyroH CMepA^KOB... (Dostoevsky 1991b, 114)

79. ApcryâBuiHCb, HBaH OeAopoBHH BCTynHA B ceHH H, no yKa3aHHio MapbH KoHApaTbeBHw, npouieA np^MO HaAeBO B «6eAyio H36y», 3aHHMaeMyio CMepA^KOBbiM. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 114)

80. B 3TOH H36e nenb CToÂa H3pa3iioBaa H 6wAa CHAbHO HaTonAeHa r i o creHaM KpacoBaAHCb

roAy6bie O6OH, npaBAa Bee H30ApaHHbie, a noA HHHH B TpemHHax KonouiHAHCb TapaKaHM-

npycaKH B CTpauiHOM KOAHnecTBe, TaK HTO CTOAA HeyMOAKaeMMH inopox. Me6eAb 6biAa

HHHTOXHaa: ABe CKaMbH no o6eHM creHaM H Asa CTyAa noAAe CTOAa. CTOA xe , xoTb H npocTO

A e p e B a H H H H , 6bIA HaKpbIT, OAHaKO, CKaTepTblO C p 0 3 0 B W M H p a 3 B O A a M H . H a AByX MaAeHbKHX

OKOuiKax noMemaAOCb Ha Ka>KAOM no ropuiKy c repaH^MH. B yrAy KHOT C o6pa3aMH. Ha CTOAC

CTOflA H e 6 o A b U I O H , CHAbHO nOMilTblH MeAHblH CaMOBapHHK H nOAHOC C AByMfl HaiUKaMH. H o HaH

CMepA-HKOB yxe OTHHA, H caMOBap norac... CaM OH CHAeA 3a CTOAOM Ha AaBKe H, CMOTpa B

TeTpaAi>> HTO-TO nepTHA nepoM. riy3bipeK c nepHHAaMH HaxoAHAOi noAAe, paBHO KaK H

H y r y H H M H HH3eHbKHH nOACBeHHHK CO CTeapHHOBOK), B n p O H e M , CBeHKOH. H B a H O e A O p O B H H

TOTHac 3aKAK>HHA no AHiry CMepAflKOBa, HTO onpaBHAca OH OT 6oAe3HH BnoAHe. (Dostoevsky

1991b, 114)

81. — MwcAeH BauiHX TorAaniHHX He 3HaA-c,— O6HXCHHO nporoBopHA CMepA^KOB,— a

noTOMy H ocTaHOBHA Bac TorAa, KaK BH BXOAHAH B BopoTa, HTO6M Bac Ha 3TOM caMOM nyHKTe

HCnblTaTb-C.

— HTO HcnwTaTb? HTO?

A BOT HMCHHO 3TO CaMOe o 6 c T O a T e A b C T B O : XOHeTCa HAb H e XOHeTCH BaM, H T o 6 b I BaiU

poAHTeAb 6biA nocKopee y6HT? (Dostoevsky 1991b, 116)

82. HBaH OeAopoBHH BCTaA, Becb Apoxa OT HeroAOBaHHH, HaAeA naAbTO H, He OTBenaa 6oAee

CMepA^KOBy, Aaxe He TAÂ^ «a Hero, 6wcTpo BHiueA H3 H36H. CBexnn BenepHHH B03Ayx

ocBexHA ero. Ha He6e apKO CBeTHAa AyHa. CTpauiHWH KouiMap MMCACH H oinymeHHH KHneA B

ero Ayiue- (Dostoevsky 1991b, 119)

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83. BwcAyiuaB STO, KaTepHHa HBaHOBHa MOAna BCTaAa c MecTa, nouiAa K CBoeMy nncbMeHHOMy

CTOAy, omepAa CTO^Biuyio Ha HeM uiKaTyAKy, BbmyAa Kaicyio-TO 6yMaaocy H noAoacHAa ee npeA

HBaHOM. 3Ta 6yMaaaca 6biAa TOT caMbiii AOKyMeHT, o KOTopoM MBaH <3>eAopoBHH noTOM

o6T>aBHA AAeiue Kaic o «MaTeMaTHHecKOM AOKa3aTeAbCTBe», HTO y6nA OTua 6paT AMHTPHH.

3 T O 6HAO nHCbMO, HanHcaHHoe MUTCH B nbjmoM BHAe K KaTepHHe HBaHOBHe, B TOT caMWH

Benep, KorAa OH BCTperaACH B noAe c Axemen, yxoAHBiiiHM B MOHacTbipb, nocAe cueHM B AOMC

KaTepHHM HBaHOBHM, KorAa ee ocKop6nAa FpyuieHbRa. TorAa, paccTaBiiiHCb c AAeuieH, MHTA

6pocHAca 6HAO K rpymeHbKe; HeH3BecTHO, BHAeA AH ee, HO K HOHH onyTHAca B TpaKTHpe

«CTOAHHHMH ropoA», rAe KaK CAeAyeT H HanHAOi. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 120)

8 4 . O H pei l lHAOI IIOJKepTBOBaTb TpHAHaTbK) TbICflHaMH C OAHOH CBOeH CTOpOHbl, HT06 yCTpOHTb

no6er MHTH. Bo3Bpamajicb TorAa OT Hero, OH 6HA CTpaumo rpycTeH H CMyiueH: eMy BApyr

HanaAO nyBCTBOBarboi, HTO OH xoneT no6era He AAH Toro TOAbKO, HTO6M noacepTBOBaTb Ha STO

TpHAi aTb TMOIH H 3axHBHTb uapariHHy, a H noneMy-TO ApyroMy. «lloTOMy AH, HTO B Ayme H a

TaKOH ace y6HHua?» — cnpocHA 6WAO OH ce6ji. HTO-TO OTAaAeHHoe, HO acrynee a3BHAO ero

Aymy. TAaBHoe ace, BO Becb STOT Meom. CTpaumo CTpaAaAa ero ropAOCTb, HO 06 3TOM noTOM...

B3^BiuHCb 3a 3BOHOK CBoeH KBapTHpw nocAe pa3roBopa c AAeuieH H nopeuiHB BApyr HATH K

CMepA-HKOBy, HBaH OeAopoBHH noBHHOBaAca OAHOMy oco6AHBOMy, BHe3anHO BCKHneBiueMy B

rpyAH ero HeroAOBaHHio. O H BApyr BCHOMHHA, KaK KaTepHHa HBaHOBHa ceHnac TOAbKO

BOCKAHKHyAa eMy npn AAeiue: « 3 T O TH, TOAbKO TW OAHH yBepHA Menu, HTO OH (TO ecTb MHTA)

y6HHua!» BcnoMHHB STO, HBaH Aaace ocTOA6eHeA: HHKorAa B XH3HH He yBepaA OH ee, HTO

y6HHua MHTA, HanpoTHB, eme ce6a noA03peBaA TorAa npeA Hero, KorAa BopoTHAOi OT

CMepA>iKOBa. HanpoTHB, STO OHa, OHa eMy BbiAoacHAa TorAa «AOKyMeHT» H AOKa3aAa

BHHOBHOCTb 6paTa! M BApyr OHa ace Tenepb BOCKAHuaeT: «%. caMa 6biAa y CMepA^KOBa!» KorAa

6wAa? MBaH HHnero He 3HaA 06 3TOM. 3HanHT, OHa coBceM He TaK yBepeHa B BHHOBHOCTH M H T H !

M HTO MOT eii CKa3aTb CMepA^KOB? HTO, HTO HMCHHO OH en CKa3aA? CTpauiHMH THCB 3aropeAOi

B ero cepAue. O H He noHHMaA, KaK Mor OH noAnaca Ha3aA nponycTHTb eii STH CAOBa H He

3aKpnnaTb TorAa ace. O H 6pocHA 3BOHOK H nycraAOi K CMepA^KOBy. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 122-23)

85. By<|>eTHHK BMHyA TpHAuaTb py6Aeii H BMAOXCHA HX Ha CBepx CTOA, a 3areM HeoacnAaHHO

MUTKO, KaK 6yATO 6M Koiuanbeii AanKOH onepHpya, noAOKHA nepBOHueB 3BaKHyBuiHH CTOA6HK B

ra3eTHOH 6yMaaace.

— A STO HTO TaKoe? — cnpocHA Ky3bMHH H noAKpyTHAyc.

— He 6pe3ryHTe, rpaacAaHHH npoêccop, — npouienTaA 6ycJ>eTHHK, — yMOAaro —

ocTaHOBHTe paK.

— Y6epHTe ceHHac ace Bauie 30AOTO, — CKa3aA npoêccop, ropAacb CO6OH, — BM 6M Aynuie

3a HepBaMH CMOTpeAH. 3aBTpa x e AaiiTe Mony Ha aHaAH3, He neiiTe MHOTO naio H euibTe 6e3 COAH

coBepmeHHO. (Bulgakov 2006, 333)

86. BHA CTOA, npn B3rAHAe Ha KOTopbiii 6oro6oa3HeHHMH 6yc eTHHK B3AporHyA: CTOA 6WA

noKpwT uepKOBHOH napHoii. (Bulgakov 2006, 325)

87. Eme Ha noAnyTH noAHÂCH ocTpbm, cyxon BeTep, TaKOH ace, KaK 6HA B STOT AeHb paHO

yTpoM, H nocbinaA MCAKHH, rycTOH, cyxoii CHer. O H naAaA Ha 3eMAio, He npHAHnaa K Hen, BeTep

KpyTHA ero, H BCKope noAHHAacb coBepmeHHaa MeTeAb. B TOH nacTH ropoAa, rAe XHA

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CMepAflKOB, y Hac noHTH H HeT <j)OHapeH. HBaH 4>eAopoBHH iuaraA BO Mpaice... (Dostoevsky

1991b, 113)

88. Eme B cemix MapbH KoHAparbeBHa, Bbi6exaBmaa OTBopHTb co CBCHKOH B pyicax, 3amenTaAa

eMy, HTO IlaBeA c&eAopoBHH (TO ecTb CMCPAAKOB) OHCHHO 6oAbHM-c, He TO HTO AexaT-c, a noHTH

KaK He B CBoeM yMe-c H Aaxe Haft BeAeAH y6paTb, nHTb He 3axoTeAH. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 124)

89. HaTonAeHO 6MAO TaK xe , KaK H B npexHHH pa3, HO B KOMHaTe 3aMeTHw 6MAH HeKOTopbie

nepeMeHbi: OAHa H3 6OKOBMX AaBOK 6wAa BbmeceHa, H Ha MecTO ee ABHAC.51 6oAbiuoH cTapwii

KoxaHMH AHBaH noA KpacHoe AepeBO. H a HeM 6biAa nocTAaHa nocTeAb c AOBOAbHO HHCTMMH

6eAWMH noAyuiKaMH. H a nocTeAH CHACA CMCPA^KOB Bee B TOM x e CBoeM xaAaTe. CTOA

nepeHeceH 6MA npeA A^BaH, TaK HTO B KOMHaTe CTaAO oneHb TecHO. Ha CTOAC AexaAa KaKaa-To

TOACTaa B xeATofi o6epTKe KHHra, HO CMepA^KOB He nmaA ee, OH, KaxeTca, CHACA H HHHero He

AeAaA. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 124)

90. — Hero BH Bee 6ecnoKOHTecb? — BApyr ycTaBHAOi Ha Hero CMepAflKOB, HO He TO HTO C

npe3peHHeM, a noHTH c KaKoio-TO yxe raAAHBOCTbio,— STO HTO CVA-TO 3aBTpa HaHHeTca? TaK

BeAb HHHero BaM He 6yAeT, yBepbrecb x e HaKOHeii! CTynaiiTe AOMOH, AOXHTecb cnoKOHHO

cnaTb, HHHero He onacairrecb. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 125)

91. — He noHHMaio n Te6a... nero MHe 6o«Tbca 3aBTpa? — VAHBACHHO BbiroBopHA HBaH, H

BApyr B caMOM AeAe KaKoii-TO Hcnyr XOAOAOM naxHyA Ha ero Aymy- CMepA^KOB o6MepHA ero

TAa3aMH.

— He no-HH-MaeTe? — npoTflHVA OH yKopH3HeHHO.— OxoTa x e yMHOMy neAOBeKy STaKyio

KOMeAB H3 ce6a npeACTaBAATb!

HBaH MOAna TAHACA Ha Hero. OAHH yxe STOT HeoxHAaHHMH TOH, coBceM KaKoii-TO

He6biBaAO BbicoKOMepHWH, c KOTopbiM 3TOT 6MBUIHH ero AaKefi o6paiuaAC.s Tenepb K HeMy, 6WA

Heo6biHeH. TaKoro TOHa Bce-TaKH He 6WAO Aaxe H B nponiAHH pa3. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 125)

92. — 3Haeuib HTO: a 6oiocb, HTO TH COH, HTO TH npH3paK npeAO MHOH CHAHiiib? — npoAeneTaA

OH.

— HHKaKoro TyT npH3paKa HeT-c, KpoMe Hac O6OHX-C, Aa eme HeKOToporo TpeTbero. Be3

cyMAeHH , TyT OH Tenepb, Tperaii STOT, HaxoAHTCJi, MexAy HaMH AByMii.

— KTO OH? KTO HaxoAHTOi? KTO TpeTHH? — HcnyraHHO nporoBopHA HBaH OeAopoBHH,

03Hpaacb KpyroM H nocneumo nina rAa3aMH Koro-To no BceM yrAaM.

— TpeTHH STOT — 6or-c, caMoe 3TO npoBHAeHHe-c, TyT OHO Tenepb noAAe Hac-c, TOAbKO BH

He HiijHTe ero, He HaHAeTe. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 126-27)

93. O H ABHHVACH 6HAO BCTaTb KAHKHyTb B ABepb Mapbio KoHApaTbeBHy, HTO6W Ta CAeAaAa H

n p H H e C A a AHMOHaAy, HO, OTHCKHBafl HeM 6 b l HaKpblTb A e H b r H , H T o 6 b I T a H e VBHAeAa HX, BblHyA

6MAO cnepBa nAaroK, HO TaK KaK TOT onaTb OKa3aAOi coBceM 3acMopKaHHWM, TO B3«A CO CTOAa

Ty eAHHCTBeHHyio AexaBiuyio Ha HeM TOACTyio xeATyio KHHry, KOTopyio 3aMeTHA, BOHAA, HBaH,

H npHAaBHA eio AeHbra. Ha3BaHHe KHHTH 6HAO: «CBaToro OTna Haiuero HcaaKa CnpHHa

CAOBa». HBaH OeAopoBHHycneA MauiHHaAbHO nponecTb 3arAaBHe. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 128)

94. — Hy... Hy, Te6e 3HanHT caM nepT noMoraA! — BOCKAHKHyA omiTb HBaH OeAopoBHH.—

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HeT, ra He rAyn, TH ropa3AO yMHen, neM a AyMaA... (Dostoevsky 1991b, 135)

95. — He HaAO MHe HX BOBce-c,— ApoxaujHM TOAOCOM nporoBopHA CMCPA^KOB, MaxHyB

pyKOH.— BtiAa TaKaa npexHjifl MWCAb-c, HTO C TaKHMH AenbraMH XH3Hb Ha^my, B MOCKBC aAH

nyiue Toro 3a rpaHHuen, TaKaa MeHTa 6biAa-c, a nyine Bee noTOMy, HTO «Bce no3BOAeHO». 3 T O

BM BnpaBAy Menu yHHAH-c, H6O MHoro BM MHe TorAa SToro roBopHAH: H6O KOAH 6ora

6ecKOHeHHoro HeT, TO H HCT HHKaKOH Ao6poAeTeAH, Aa H He HaAo6HO ee TorAa BOBCC 3 T O BM

BnpaBAy. TaKfl H paccyAHA. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 136)

96. MeTeAb Bee e q e npoAOAxaAacb. nepBwe mara npomeA OH 6oApo, HO BApyr KaK 6M CTaA

iuaTaTbca. « 3 T O HTO-TO ^>H3HHecKoe»,— noAyMaA OH, ycMexHyBinHCb. KaKaa-TO CAOBHO

paAOCTb couiAa Tenepb B ero Aymy. O H nonyBCTBOBaA B ce6e KaKyio-TO 6ecKOHeHHyio

TBepAOCTb: KOHCIJ KOAe6aHHHM ero, CTOAb yxacHO ero MyHHBUiHM Bee nocAeAHee BpeMJi!

PeiueHHe 6WAO B3ATO, « H yxe He H3MCHHTC^»,— co cnacTheM noAyMaA OH. B 3TO MrHOBeHHe

OH BApyr Ha HTO-TO cnoTKHyAca H nyTb He ynaA. OcraHOBjicb, OH pa3AHHHA B Horax CBOHX

noBepxeHHoro HM MyxHHOHKy, Bee TaK x e AexaBinero Ha TOM x e caMOM MecTe, 6e3 nyBCTB H

6e3 ABHXCHHA. MeTeAb yxe 3acwnaAa eMy noHTH Bee AHUO. MBaH BApyr cxBaTHA ero H noTaiUHA

Ha ce6e. YBHAaB HanpaBO B AOMHUIKC CBCT, noAoineA, nocryiaACii B cTaBHH H OTKAHKHyBinerocji

MemaHHHa, KOTopoMy npHHaAAexaA AOMHIUKO, nonpocHA noMOHb eMy AOTamHTb MyxHKa B

HacTHwii AOM, o6emaii TyT x e Aan> 3a TO TpH py6Ax. MemaHHH co6paACH H BbimeA. He CTaHy B

noApo6HOCTH onHCbmaTb, KaK yAaAOCb TorAa HBaHy <J>eAopoBHHy AOCTHrHyTb ueAH H

n p H C T p O H T b M y X H K a B HaCTH, C TeM HTo6bI CeHHaC X e yHHHHTb H OCMOTp e r o AOKTOpOM, n p H H e M

OH on^Tb BMAaA H TyT iueApoio pyKoii «Ha pacxoAH». Cnaxy TOAbKO, HTO ACAO B3JIAO noHTH

i eAMH nac BpeMeHH. H o MBaH <I>eAopoBHH ocTaAOi oneHb AOBOACH. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 137-38)

97. «ECAH 6 H He 6WAO B3^TO TaK TBepAo peiueHHe Moe Ha 3aBTpa,— noAyMaA OH BApyr c

HacAaxAeHHeM,— TO He ocTaHOBHAOi 6M a Ha ueAbiH nac npHcrpaHBarb MyxHHOHKy, a npomeA

6 b l MHMO e r O H TOAbKO nAIOHyA 6 b l H a TO, HTO OH 3 a M e p 3 H e T . . . O A H a K O KaK %. B CHAaX Ha6AK)AaTb

3a CO6OH,— noAyMaA OH B Ty x e MHHyTy eme c 6oAbuiHM HacAaxAeHHeM,— a OHH-TO peniHAH

TaM, HTO si c yMa cxoxy!» (Dostoevsky 1991b, 138)

98. AOHAJI Ao CBoero AOMa, OH BApyr ocTaHOBHAca noA BHe3anHMM BonpocoM: « A He HaAO Ab

ceiiHac, Tenepb x e noHTH K npoKypopy H Bee o6i>aBHTb?» Bonpoc OH peuiHA, noBopoTHB onaTb

K AOMy: «3aBTpa Bee BMecTe!» — npomenTaA OH npo ce6a, H, CTpaHHO, noHTH BOI paAOCTb, Bee

AOBOAbCTBO ero C06010 nponiAH B OAHH MHr. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 138)

99. KorAaxe OH BCTynHA B CBOIO KOMHaTy, HTO-TO AeA^Hoe npHKOCHyAOCb BApyr K ero cepAUy,

KaK 6yATO BOcnoMHHaHHe, BepHee, HanoMHHaHHe o HCM-TO MynHTeAbHOM H OTBpaTHTeAbHOM,

HaxoAflmeMca HMCHHO B STOH KOMHaTe Tenepb, cenâc, Aa H npexAe 6bmmeM. O H ycTaAO

onycTHAOi Ha CBOH AHBaH. CTapyxa npHHecAa eMy caMOBap, OH 3aBapHA nan, HO He

npHKOCHyAC^ y HeMy... (Dostoevsky 1991b, 138)

100. CTena pa3AenHA CKAeeHHbie BCKH H yBHAeA, HTO OTpaxaeTca B TpioMO...TaKHM OH

yBHAeA ce6a B TpioMO, a pÂOM c 3epKaAOM yBHAeA HeH3BecTHoro neAOBeKa, OAeToro B nepHoe H

B nepHOM 6epeTe. (Bulgakov 2004b, 179)

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IOI. OAHaKO AOAbiue 3aAep>KHBaTbc.a B nepeAHeH 6WAO HeyAo6HO, H CTena TyT x e cocTaBHA

nAaH: BceMH MepaMH cicphiTb CBOIO HeBepoaTHyio 3a6biBHHBOCTb, a cefiHac nepBWM AOAroM

XHTpo BwcnpocHTb y HHOcrpaHu,a, HTO OH, co6cTBeHHO, HaMepeH ceroAHa noKa3WBaTb BO

BBepeHHOM CTene BapbeTe? TyT CTena noBepHyAca OT annapaTa H B 3epKaAe, noMemaBineMca B

nepeAHeH...OTHeTAHBO yBHAÂ Kaicoro-TO CTpaHHoro cy6ibeicra — AAHHHOTO, Kaic xepAfc, H B

neHCHe... A TOT OTpa3HAca H TOTnac nponaA. CTena B TpeBore norAy6»ce 3arAHHyA B nepeAHioio,

H BTOPHHHO ero KanHyAO, H6O B 3epKaAe npoiueA 3AopoBeHHeHiuHH nepHbiH KOT H Taicxe

nponaA... « H T O ace STO TaKoe? — noAyMaA OH, — y>K He cxoxy AH H C yMa? OTKyAax 3TH

oTpaxeHHa?!» (Bulgakov 2004b, 184-85)

ioz. H TyT CAy HAOCb neTBepToe, H nocAeAHee, aBAeHHe B KBapTHpe, KorAa CTena, coBceM

yxe cnoA3uiHH Ha noA, ocAa6eBmeH pyicoH uapanaA npnTOAOKy. Ilp^MO H3 3epicaAa TpioMO

BbimeA MaAeHbKHH, HO Heo6biKHOBeHHo uiHpoKonAeHHH, B KOTeAKe Ha roAOBe H c TopnamHM

H30 pTa KAWKOM, 6e3o6pa3.amHM H 6e3 Toro HeBHAaHHO Mep3Kyro <J>H3HOHOMHK>. (Bulgakov

2004b, 186)

i03."BopBaBiiiHCb B noA>e3A> HBaH HHKOAaeBHH B3AeTeA Ha BTopofi 3Tax, HeMeAAeHHO HaineA

3Ty KBapTHpy H no3BOHHA HeTepneAHBo. >KAaTb npHuiAOCb HCAOATO: OTKpwAa HBaHy ABepb

KaKaa-TO AeBOHKa ACT nxm H, HH O neM He cnpaBAaacb y npHineAinero, HeMeAAeHHO yniAa

KyAa-To" (Bulgakov 2004b, 149).

104. "B rpoMaAHOH, AO KpaiiHOCTH 3anyineHHOH nepeAHeH, CAa6o ocBemeHHOH

MaAioceHbKOH yroAbHoii AaMnonicoH noA BWCOKHM, nepHMM OT rp^3H noTOAKOM..." (Bulgakov

2004b, 149).

105. "HBaH HHKOAaeBHH CMyTHAca, HO HeHaAOAro, noTOMy HTO BApyr coo6pa3HA, HTO

npo<|>eccop HenpeMeHHO AOAXCH OKa3aTbca B AOMe NQ 13 H o6^3aTeAbHO B KBapTHpe 47"

(Bulgakov 2004b, 149).

106. B nycTWHHOM 6e30TpaAHOM nepeyAKe no3T orAjmyAca, Hina 6erAena, HO TOTO HHTAC He

6WAO. TorAa HBaH TBepAO CKa3aA caMOMy ce6e:

— Hy KOHeHHO, OH Ha MocKBe-peKe! BnepeA!

CAeAOBaAO 6M, noxaAyii, cnpocHTb HBaHa HHKOAaeBHHa, noneMy OH noAaraeT, HTO

npo<J>eccop HMCHHO Ha MocKBe-peKe, a He rAe-Hn6yAb B ApyroM Mecre. J\a. rope B TOM, HTO

cnpocHTb-TO 6HAO HeKOMy. (Bulgakov 2004b, 151)

I O 7 . " K FpH6oeAOBy! BHe BOIKHX coMHeHHH, OH TaMM (Bulgakov 2004b, 152).

108.— BM 3HaeTe, c KeM BW cennac roBopHTe, — cnpocHAy npHineAinero BoAaHA, — y KOTO BW

HaxoAHTecb?

— 3Haio, — OTBeTHA MacTep, — MOHM coceAOM B cyMacnieAmeM AOMe 6MA STOT MaAbMHK,

HBaH Be3AOMHHH. O H paccica3aA MHe o Bac.

K a K »Ce, KaK X C OTO3BaAOI B o A a H A , A HMeA yAOBOAbCTBHe BCTpeTHTbCfl C 3THM

MOAOAWM neAOBeKOM Ha riaTpnapiuHX npyAax. O H eABa caMoro MOW He CBCA c yMa, AOKa3bmaa

MHe, HTO MeHji HeTy! H o BH-TO BepnTe, HTO STO AeHCTBHTeAbHO a? (Bulgakov 2004b, 418)

109. "3a OAHOH H3 ABepeii TVAKHH MyxcKOH TOAOC B paAHoannapaTe cepAHTO icpnnaA HTO-TO

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craxaMH" (Bulgakov 2004b, 149).

n o . Ha HBaHa naxHVAO BAa>KHMM, TenAOM H, npw CBeTe yrAen, TAeiomHX B KOAOHKC, OH

pa3rAHACA 6oAtiuHe Kopbrra, BHCSiUHe Ha CTCHC H BaHHy, BCIO B nepHbix CTpauiHwx nsiTHax OT

C6HTOH 3MaAH. TaK BOT, B STOH BaHHe cTOÂa roAaa rpaxAanKa, BOI B MMAC H C MonaAKOH B

pyKax. OHa 6AH3opyKO npHinypHAach Ha BopBaBiuerooi HBaHa H, OHCBHAHO, o6o3HaBiunci> B

aACKOM ocBemeHHH, CKa3aAa THXO H BeceAo:

— KHpiouiKa! BpocbTe TpenaTboi! HTO BM, C yMa COIUAH?.. OeAop HBaHbin cemac

BepHeTca. BOH OTCK>Aa ceHnac x e ! — H MaxHyAa Ha HBaHa MonaAKOH.

HeAopa3yMeHHe 6HAO HaAHup, H noBHHeH B HeM 6MA, KOHCHHO, HBaH HHKOAaeBHH.


i n . "icajKAOMy 6yAeT AaHO no ero Bepe" (Bulgakov 2004b, 403).

112. HopT! O H KO MHe noBaAHAOi. ABa pa3a, Aaxe noHTH ipu. O H Apa3HHA Mens. TeM, 6VATO H

cepxycb, HTO OH npocTO nopT, a He caraHa c onaAeHHMMH KPMAWIMH, B rpoMe H 6ACCKC H O OH

He caraHa, STO OH Axex O H caM03BaHeii. O H npocTO nopT, AP^HHOH, MCAKHH nopT. O H B 6aHio

XOAHT. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 159)

113. O H yxacHO rAyn, HO OH STHM 6epeT. O H xHTep, XHBOTHO XHTep, OH 3HaA, neM B36ecHTb

MeHa. O H Bee Apa3HHA MeHa, HTO a. B Hero Bepio H TeM 3acTaBHA ucnn ero CAyuiaTb. O H HaAyA

Mena KaK MaAbHHUiKy. O H BnpoHeM CKa3aA npo MeHa MHoro npaBAM. ft. 6w HHKorAa 3Toro He

CKa3aA ce6e. 3Haeuib, AAeiua, 3Haeuib, — yxacHO cepbe3HO H KaK 6w KOH^HAeHHHaAbHO

npH6aBHA HBaH, — a 6M oneHb xeAaA, HTO6 OH B caMOM AeAe 6MA OH, a He a!

— O H TC6X H3MyHHA, — aca3aA AAeiua, c cocTpaAaHHeM CMOTpa Ha 6paTa.

— A p a 3 H H A MeHa! H 3Haenib, AOBKO, AOBKO: «CoBecTb! HTO coBecTb? ft caM ee ACAaio.

3aneM x e Mynaiocb? r io npHBMHKe. I lo BceMHpHOH HeAOBenecKOH npHBMHKe 3a ceMb THCHH ACT.

TaK OTBMKHeM H 6yAeM 6orH». — 3 T O OH roBopHA, 3TO OH roBopHA! (Dostoevsky 1991b, 160)

114."...Aa, KOAb CMepA^KOByMep, TO noKa3aHHK> HBaHa HHKTO yxe He noBepHT; HO OH noiiAeT

H noKaxeT... H A H BOCCTaHeT B CBeTe npaBAbi HAH...norH6HeT B HeHaBHCTH, Mtcrn ce6e H BceM 3a

TO, HTO nocAyxHA TOMy, BO HTO He BepHT..." (Dostoevsky 1991b, 162).

115. "KaK HH 6MA paccTpoeH HBaH, Bee x e ero nopaxaAa Ta CBepxtecTecTBeHHaa CKopocTb, c

KOTopoH npoHcxoAHAa noroHa. H ABaAuara ceKyHA He npouiAO, KaK nocAe HHKHTCKHX BopoT

HBaH HHKOAaeBHH 6HA yxe ocAenAeH onttfiMH Ha Ap6aTCKOH nAomaAn" (Bulgakov 2004b).

116. "Eme HecKOAbKO ceKyHA, H BOT KaKOH-TO TeMHbiH nepeyAOK c HOKOCHBUIHMHCH

TpoTyapaMH, rAe HBaH HHKOAaeBHH rpoxHyAOi H pa36nA KOACHO" (Bulgakov 2000,149).

117. "CKOAbKO HBaH He npH6aBA«A iuary, paccTOHHHe MexAy npecAeAyeMHMH H HH HHHyTb He

coKpamaAocb." (Bulgakov 2004b, 147)

118. "HBaH TaK H CAeAaA H yrAy6HAOi B TaHHCTBeHHyio ceTb Ap6aTCKHX nepeyAKOB H HanaA

npo6npaTbca noA CTeHKaMH, nyrAHBO Kooicb, exeMHHyTHO orAHAMsaacb, no BpeMeHaM

npanacb B noAT>e3Aax H H36eraa nepeKpecTKOB co CBeTO(J>opaMH, niHKapHbix ABepen

-237-


nocoAbCKHX OCO6HHKOB" (Bulgakov 2004b, 152).

119. "Ham 6AaxeHHHH H npoponecTByiomHH" (Dostoevsky 1988, 307).

izo."...Bce OTnpaBAHAHCb 3a peicy, B AOM Kynua CeBOCTwiHOBa, y KOToporo BO <|>AHreAe, BOT y x

ACT c AecHTb, npoxuBaA Ha noKOC.CeMeH ^KOBACBHH" (Dostoevsky 1988, 307).

121. "KorAa 3KcneAHi Hji nopaBHHAacb, cnycKaacb K MOCTy, c ropoACKOio rocrHHHneH, KTO-TO

BApyr o6T>aBHA, HTO B rocTHHHne, B HyMepe, ceiiHac TOAbKO HaniAH 3acTpeAeBinero npoe3xero H

>KAyT noAHHHio..." (Dostoevsky 1988, 307).

i22.HyMep 3acTpeAHBiueroca 6HA OTnepT H, pa3yMeeTca, Hac He nocMeAH He nponycTHTb. 3 T O

6bIA e m e MOAOAeHbKHH MaAbHHK, ACT ACBflTHaAHaTH, HHKaK H e 6 o A e e , OHeHb AOAXHO 6bITb

X O p o i n e H b K H H C 0 6 0 H , C ryCTMMH 6eAOKypbIMH BOAOCaMH, C n p a B H A b H W M OBaAbHbIM O 6 A H K O M , C

HHCTMM npeKpacHMM A6OM. O H yxe OKOHCHCA, H 6eAeHbKoe AHHHKO ero Ka3aAOCb KaK 6yATO H3

MpaMopa. Ha CTOAC AexaAa 3anHCKa, ero pyKOH, HTO6M He BHHHAH HHKoro B ero CMepTH H HTO

OH 3acTpeAHAOi noTOMy, HTO «npoKyTHA» neTbipecTa py6Aefi. CAOBO npoKyTHATaK H CTOAAO B

3anncKe: B neTbipex ee CTpoHKax HauiAOCb TpH rpaMMaTHHecKHx OUIH6KH. TyT oco6eHHO oxaA

HaA HHM icaKOH-TO noBHAHMOMy coceA ero, TOACTMH noMemHK, CTOABIUHH B ApyroM HyMepe no

CBOHM AeAaM. H 3 CAOB TOrO OKa3aAOCb, HTO MaAbHHK O T n p a B A e H 6bIA CeMeHCTBOM, BAOBOK)

MaTepbK) , CeCTpaMH H TeTKaMH, H3 ACpeBHH HX B TOpOA, H T o 6 b I , n O A pyKOBOACTBOM

npoxHBaBineH B ropoAe poACTBeHHHijbi, cAeAaTb pa3Hbie noKynKH A,ASL npHAaHoro crapmeH

cecTpbi, BbixoAHBiuefi 3aMyx, H AOCTaBHTb HX AOMOH. EMy BBepHAH 3TH neTbipecTa py6AeH,

HaKonAeHHbie AecflTHAeraaMH, oxaa OT cTpaxy H HanyTCTBya ero 6ecKOHeHHMMH Ha3HAaHHaMH,

MOAHTBaMH H KpecraMH. MaAbHHK AOceAe 6biA CKpoMeH H 6AaroHaAexeH. ripHexaB Tpn AHA

TOMy Ha3aA B ropoA, OH K poACTBeHHHue He SIBKACH, ocTaHOBHAca B rocraHHue H noiueA np^MO

B KAy6, B HaAexAe OTbicKaTb rAe-Hn6yAb B 3aAHeii KOMHaTe KaKoro-HH6yAb 3ae3xero 6aHKOMeTa

HAH no KpaimeH Mepe cryKOAKy. (Dostoevsky 1988, 308)

123. H o CTyKOAKH B TOT Benep He 6WAO, 6aHKOMeTa Toxe. Bo3BpaT^cb B HyMep yxe OKOAO

noAyHOHH, OH noTpe6oBaA maMnaHCKoro, raBaHCKHx cnrap H 3aKa3aA yxHH H3 iuecTH HAH ceMH

6AIOA. H O OT maMnaHCKoro onwiHeA, OT cnrapw ero CTOUIHHAO, TaK HTO AO BHeceHHbix

KymaHHH H He npHTpoHyAOi, a yAeroi cnaTb nyTb He 6e3 naM«TH. EIpocHyBiiiHCb Ha 3aBTpa,

CBexHH KaK >I6AOKO, TOTnac ace OTnpaBHAca B uwraHCKHH Ta6op, noMemaBiunHoi 3a peKOH B

CAo6oAKe, o KOTopoM ycAbixaA Bnepa B KAy6e, H B rocTHHHijy He XBAHACX ABa AHA. HaKOHeu.

Bnepa, nacaM K nam nonoAyAHH, npH6wA xMeAbHoii, TOTHac Aer cnaTb H npocnaA AO ACCSLIU

nacoB Benepa. FlpocHyBiuHCb cnpocHA KOTAeTKy, 6yTHAKy uiaTO-A'HKeMy H BHHorpaAy, 6yMarH,

nepHHA H cneT. HHKTO He 3aMeTHA B HCM HHnero oco6eHHoro; OH 6HA cnoKoeH, THX H AacKOB.

A O A X H O 6bITb OH 3aCTpeAHAOI e m e OKOAO nOAyHOHH, XOTJI CTpaHHO, HTO HHKTO H e CAblXaA

BHCTpeAa, a XBaTHAHCb TOAbKO ceroAHfl B nac nonoAyAHH H, He AOCTynaBuiHCb, BMAOMaAH ABepb.

ByTbiAKa maTO-A'HKeMy 6biAa Ha noAOBHHy onopoxHeHa, BHHorpaAy ocraBaAOCb Toxe c

noATapeAKH. BwcTpeA 6MA CAeAaH H3 TpexcTBOAbHoro MaAeHbKoro peBOAbBepa npjiMO B cepAue.

KpoBH BWTeKAO OHeHb MaAo; peBOAbBep BbinaA H3 pyK Ha KOBep. CaM lOHOina noAyAexaA B yrAy

HaAHBaHe. (Dostoevsky 1988, 308)

124. HepT yTBep>KAaeT, HTO roBopHA STO peAaKTopy, KOTopwii He xeAaA ony6AHKOBaTb ero

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nncbMO B ra3eTe... IoBpoHA yMecrHO—HaMeKaa Ha BOAHy 6e36oao«i H 6ecoBmHHW,

noAHHBiuyiocH, no MHCHHIO ApcToeBCKoro, B POCCHH. H O BeAb BO BpeMeHa ByAraKOBa 3Ta BOAHa

6biAa croKpaTHO BHiue H CHABHCH! TaK HTO BoAaHA BOHCTHHy Ha cefi pa3 o6pamaeTca K

peAaKTopy EepAH03y, «yMOA5m» ero noBepHTb, HTO ABHACH CBOH—He Bor, a AMBOA...

TaK, OTAaAeHHMMH H TOHKaMH accouHauHHMH c AOCTOCBCKHM, BnepBbie npoHBAaeTca B

poMaHe HaMeK Ha AbiiBOAa, poACTBeHHoro HeAOBenecKOMy coo6inecTBy. Pa3yMeeTca, 3TH

accouHauHH MOXHO paccMaTpHBaTb KaK eme OAHH npneM, c noMombio KOToporo BoAaHA caisio-

AeMOHCTpnpyeTca; H KaK Bonpoc K AByM AHTepaTypaM, noAo6Hbifi TOMy, HTO BCKope 3aAacT

HBaHy MacTep: xoTb ApcToeBCKoro BH HHTaAH?

125. HTO 3a Bepa HacHAHeM? EIpHTOM ace B Bepe HHKaKHe AOKa3aTeAbCTBa He noMoraioT,

oco6eHHO MaTepHaAbHwe. OoMa noBepHA He noTOMy, HTO yBHAeA BocKpecmero XpHCTa, a

noTOMy, HTO eme npeacAe aceAaA noBepHTb. BOT, HanpHMep, cnnpHTbi... n HX oneHb AK>6AK>...

BOo6pa3H, OHH noAaraiOT, HTO noAe3HH AAH Bepw, noTOMy HTO HM Hep™ c Toro CBeTa poacKH

noKa3HBaiOT. « 3 T O , AecKaTb, AOKa3aTeAbCTBO yace, Tax CKa3aTb, MaTepHaAbHoe, HTO ecTb TOT

CBeT». TOT CBCT H MaTepHaAbHbie AOKa3aTeAbCTBa, aii-AioAH! W HaKOHeij, ecAH AOKa3aH nepT, TO

eme HeH3BecTHO, AOKa3aH AH 6or? ft xony B HAeaAHCTHnecKoe o6mecTBO 3anncaTboi,

onno3HUHK> y HHX 6yAy AÂaTb: «AecKaTb peaAHCT, a He MarepHaAHCT, xe-xe!» (Dostoevsky

1991b, 141)

126.— A 3aneM TM AaBena c HHM TaK cypoBO, c AAeineH-TO? O H MHAMH; a npeA HHM 3a CTapua

3ocHMy BHHOBaT. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 142)

127. BOT H CAyacy CKpena cepAue, HTO6M 6WAH npoHciuecTBHfl, H TBopio Hepa3yMHoe no

npHKa3y. AIOAH npHHHMaiOT BCIO 3Ty KOMCAHIO 3a HenTO cepbe3Hoe, Aaace npn BceM CBOCM

6eccnopHOM yMe. B STOM HX H TpareAna. Hy H CTpaAaioT, KOHCHHO, HO... Bee ace 3aTO acHByT,

acHByT peaAbHO, He (J>aHTacTHnecKH; H6O CTpaAaHHe-TO H ecTb XH3Hb. Be3 CTpaA^HHa Kaxoe

6bIAO 6 b l B H e H yAOBOAbCTBHe BCe o 6 p a T H A O C b 6 b l B OAHH 6eCKOHeHHMH M O A e 6 e H : OHO CBflTO,

HO CKyHHOBaTO. Hy a a ? 3 crpaAaio, a Bee ace He acHBy. ft HKC B HeonpeAeAeHHOM ypaBHeHHH. ft

KaKOH-TO npH3paK »CH3HH, KOTopwH noTepÂ Bee KOHUM H HanaAa, H Aaace caM no3a6biA

HaKOHei;, KaK H Ha3Barb ce6a. TM CMeeuibca... HCT, TM He CMeeuibca, TM on^Tb cepAHintca. T M

BenHO cepAHiubc^, Te6e 6M Bee TOAbKO yMa, a %. on^Tb-TaKH noBTopio Te6e, HTO X OTAaA 6M BCIO

3Ty HaA3Be3AHyio aoi3Hb, Bee HHHM H nonecTH 3a TO TOAbKO, HTO6M BonAOTHTboi B Aymy

ceMHnyAOBOH KynnHXH H 6ory CBCHKH cTaBHTb. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 148)

128. — Aynuie 6M TM KaKOH aHeKAOT! — 6oAe3HeHHO nporoBOpHA HBaH.

— AHCKAOT ecTb H HMeHHO Ha Haiuy TeMy, TO ecTb STO He aHeKAOT, a TaK, AereHAa. T M BOT

yKopaeuib MeHa B HeBepHH: «BHAHiub-Ae, a He BepHiub». Ho, Apyr MOH, BeAb He % ace OAHH

TaKOB, y Hac TaM Bee Tenepb noMyTHAHCb, H Bee OT BauiHX HayK. Eme noKa 6MAH aTOMM, naTb

nyBCTB, neTbipe CTHXHH, Hy TorAa Bee Koe-KaK KAeHAOCb. ATOMM-TO H B ApeBHeM MHpe 6MAH. A

BOT KaK y3HaAH y Hac, HTO BM TaM OTKPMAH y ce6n «xnMHHecKyio MOAeKyAy», Aa

«npoTonAa3My», Aa nepT 3HaeT HTO eme — TaK y Hac H noAacaAH XBOCTM. IlpocTO cyM6yp

HanaAca; rAaBHoe — cyeBepne, cnAeTHH; cnAeTeH BeAb H y Hac CTOAbKO ace, CKOAbKO y Bac, Aaxe

KaneAbKy 6oAbme, a, HaKOHei;, H AOHOCM, y Hac BeAb Toace ecTb TaKoe OAHO OTAeAeHHe, rAe

npHHHMaiOT H3BecTHbie «CBeAeHHa». (Dostoevsky 1991b, 148-49)

-239-


1x9. TaK BOT 3Ta AHKaa AereHAa, eme cpeAHHX HauiHX BCKOB — He Bamnx, a Hamnx — H HHKTO-

TO eii He BepHT Aaace H y Hac, KpoMe ceMHnyAOBbix Kynnnx, TO ecTb onaTb-TaKH He BauiHX, a

HauiHX KynHHX. Bee, HTO y Bac ecTb,— ecTb H y Hac, STO SL yxc Te6e no Apy>K6e OAHy Taimy Hamy

OTKpwBaio, xoTb H 3anpeiueHO. AereHAa-TO 3Ta 06 pae. BWA, AecKaTb, 3Aecb y Bac Ha 3eMAe OAHH

TaKofi MHCAHTeAb H <|>HAOCO<|>, «Bce oTBepraA, 3aKOHM, coBecTb, Bepy», a rAaBHoe — 6yAymyro

>KH3Hb. rioMep, AyMaA, HTO npiiMO BO MpaK H CMepTb, aH nepeA HHM — 6yAyinafl acH3Hb.

H3yMHAca H B03HeroAOBaA: « 3 T O , roBopHT, npoTHBopeHHT MOHM y6exAeHHaM». BOT ero 3a

3TO H n p H C y A H A H . . . TO eCTb, BHAHUIb, TbI MeHfl H3BHHH, SI B e A b n e p e A a K ) CaM, HTO CAMUiaA, 3TO

TOAbKO AereHAa... npncyAHAH, BHAHiiib, ero, HTO6M npomeA BO MpaKe KBaApHAAHOH

KHAOMeTpOB ( y HaC B e A b T e n e p b H a KHAOMeTpbl) , H KOTAa KOHHHT 3TOT KBaApHAAHOH, TO TOTAa

eMy OTBOP^T paiicKHe ABepn H Bee npocTaT... (Dostoevsky 1991b, 149)

130. — A KaKHe MyKH y Bac Ha TOM CBeTe, KpoMe-TO KBaApHAAHOHa? — c KaKHM-TO CTpaHHWM

o^HBAeHHeM npepBaA HBaH.

— KaKHe MyKH? Ax, H He cnpaiuHBaw: npeacAe 6WAO H TaK H OIK, a HWHe Bee 6oAbiiie

HpaBCTBeHHbie nOUIAH, « y r p b I 3 e H H ^ COBeCTH» H BeCb 3TOT B3AOp. 3 T O T O X e OT BaC 3aBeAOCb, OT

«CM.arHeHHfl Baiunx HpaBOB». Hy H KTO ace BbinrpaA, BbrarpaAH OAHH 6eccoBecTHwe, noTOMy

HTO ac eMy 3a yrpbi3eHHa coBecTH, KorAa H COBCCTH-TO HeT BOBCC 3aTO nocTpaAaAH AK>AH

nopaAOiHbie, y KOTopwx eme ocraBaAacb coBecTb H necTb... TO-TO BOT pe<|>opMM-TO Ha

HenpHroTOBAeHHyio-To noHBy, Aa eme cnncaHHwe c nyaoix ynpeacAeHHH,— OAHH TOAbKO BpeA!

ApeBHHH oroHeK-TO Aynnie 6M. Hy, TaK BOT STOT ocyacAeHHMH Ha KBaApHAAHOH nocTOHA,

nocMOTpeA H Aer nonepeK Aoporn: « H e xony HATH, H3 npHHHHna He noiiAy!» Bo3bMH Aymy

pyccKoro npocBeiueHHoro aTencra H CMeinaH c Aynioii npopoKa H O H H , 6yAHpoBaBiuero BO

npeBe KHTOBe TpH Ana H Tpn HOHH,— BOT Te6e xapaKTep STOTO yAerineroca Ha Aopore

MblCAHTeAH.

— H a neM ace OH TaM yAerca?

— Hy, TaM, BepHO, 6MAO Ha neM. Tw He CMeeiiibCH?

— MoAOAei;! — KpnKHyA HBaH, Bee B TOM ace CTpaHHOM oacHBAeHHH. Tenepb OH CAyuiaA c

KaKHM-TO HeoacHAaHHbiM Aio6onbiTCTBOM.— Hy HTO ac, H Tenepb AOKHT?

— TO-TO H ecTb, HTO HeT. O H npoAeacaA noHTH Twainy AeT, a noTOM BCTaA H noiueA.

B O T OCeA-To! BOCKAHKHyA H B a H , H e p B H O 3aXOXOTaB, BCe KaK 6 b l HTO-TO yCHACHHO

coo6paacaa.— He Bee AH paBHO, AeacaTb AH BCHHO HAH HATH KBaApHAAHOH BepcT? BeAb 3TO

6HAAHOH AeTxoAy? (Dostoevsky 1991b, 149-50)

131. — Aa)Ke ropa3AO 6oAbine, BOT TOAbKO HeT KapaHAauiHKa H 6yMaaocH, a TO 6M paccHHTaTb

MOJKHO. Aa BeAt OH AaBHO yace AouieA, H TyT-TO H HanHHaeTca aHeKAOT.

— KaK AOUICA! Aa rAe ac OH 6HAAHOH ACT B3Â?

— A a BeAt TW AyMaeuib Bee npo Hamy Tenepeumioio 3eMAio! Aa BeAb TenepeniHaa 3eMAH,

MoxeT, caMa-TO 6HAAHOH pa3 noBTopaAacb; Hy, OTacHBaAa, AeAeneAa, TpecKaAacb, paccbinaAacb,

pa3AaraAacb Ha cocTaBHwe HanaAa, on^Tb BOAa, aace 6e HaA TBepAHio, noTOM onaTb KOMeTa,

on^Tb coAHue, on^Tb H3 coAHija 3eMA« — BeAb 3TO pa3BHTHe, MoaceT, yace 6ecKOHeHHO pa3

noBTopaeTca, H Bee B OAHOM H TOM ace BHAC, AO nepTOHKH. CKynHiua HenpHAHHHeHinaa...

— Hy-Hy, HTO ace BHUIAO, KorAa AouieA?

— A TOAbKO HTO eMy oTBopHAH B pan, H OH BCTynHA, TO, He npo6wB eme AByx ceKyHA — H

3TO no nacaM, no nacaM (XOTH nacbi ero, no-MoeMy, AaBHO AOAXHH 6WAH 6M pa3AoaarrbOi Ha

-240-

E N D N O T E S • P E T E R G. L A R S O N

cocTaBHbie 3AeMeHTM y Hero B KapMaHe Aoporon),— He npo6wB AByx ceKyHA, BOCKAHKHyA, HTO

3a 3TH ABe CeKyHAW He TOAbKO KBaApHAAHOH, HO KBaApHAAHOH KBaApHAAHOHOB npOHTH

MO>KHO, A^ eme BO3BHCHB B KBaApHAAHOHHyio CTeneHb! CAOBOM, nponeA «ocaHHy», Aa H

nepecoAHA, TaK HTO HHwe TaM, c o6pa30M MHCACH no6AaropoAHee, TaK Aaxe pyKH eMy He

xoTeAH noAaTb Ha nepBbix nopax: CAHUIKOM-AC y x CTpeMHTeAbHO B KOHcepBaTopw nepecKOHHA.

PyccKaa HaTypa. IloBTopîo: AereHAa. 3a HTO KynHA, 3a TO H npoAaA. TaK BOT eme KaKHe TaM y

Hac 060 Bcex STHX npeAMeTax noHHTHa XOA^T. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 150)

132.. — Flo a3apTy, c KaKHM TM OTBepraeuib MeHa,— 3acMeaAOi AxeHTAbMeH,— a y6exAaiocb,

HTO TbI BCe-TaKH B MeHa BepHUIb.

— HnMaAo! Ha coTyio AOAK> He Bepio!

— H o Ha TMCHHHyio BepHiub. ToMeonaTHHecKHe-TO AOAH BeAb caMwe, MoxeT 6biTb,

CHAbHbie. npH3HaHC^, HTO BepHiub, Hy Ha AeoiTHTbiaiHHyio...

— H H OAHOH MHHyTbi!— .spocTHO BCKpHHaA HBaH.— ft, BnpoHeM, xeAaA 6 H B Te6a

noBepHTb!— CTpaHHO BApyr npn6aBHA OH.

— 3 re ! BOT, OAHaKO, npH3HaHHe! H o a Ao6p, SL Te6e H TyT noMory. CAyuiaii: STO a Te6x

noiiMaA, a He TH MCHA! ft HapoHHO Te6e TBOH x e aHeKAOT paccKa3aA, KOTopwii TH yxe 3a6biA,

HTO6H Tbi oKOHnaTeAbHO BO MHe pa3yBepHAOi. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 151)

133. — Axeuib! UeAb TBoero noaBAeHHa yBepHTb MCKH, HTO TH ecb.

— MMeHHO. H o KOAe6aHHa, HO 6ecnoKOHCTBO, HO 6opb6a Bepn H HeBepna — STO BeAb

TaKaa HHorAa Myica AAH coBecTAHBoro neAOBeKa, BOT Rax TH, HTO Aynuie noBecHTbca. ft HMCHHO,

3Haa, HTO Tbi KaneAbKy Bepnuib B MeH^, noAnycTHA Te6e HeBepna yxe OKOHnareAbHO, paccKa3aB

STOT aHeKAOT. ft re6x Boxy MexAy Bepoii H 6e3BepHeM nonepeMeHHO, H TyT y MCHJI CBOJI ueAb.

HoBaa MeTOAa-c: BeAb KorAa TH BO MHe COBCCM pa3yBepHiuboi, TO TOTnac Menu x e B iAa3a

HaHHeuib yBepaTb, HTO R. He COH, a ecMb B caMOM AeAe, x TC6X y x 3Haio; BOT % TorAa H AocrarHy

ueAH. A i eAb Moa 6AaropoAHaa. ft B Te6a TOAbKO KpoxoTHoe ceMeHKO Bepn 6pouiy, a H3 Hero

BbipacTeT Ay6 — Aa eme TaKoii Ay6, HTO TH, CHA^ Ha Ay6e-TO, B « O T H H nycTHHHHKH H B xeHH

HenopoHHH» noxeAaeuib BCTynHTb; H6O Te6e oneHHO, OHCHHO Toro BTafiHe xoneTca, aKpHAW

KyuiaTb 6yAeuib, cnacarboi B nycramo noTaiuHim>ai! (Dostoevsky 1991b, 151)

134.— TaKTH, HeroA^H, AAH cnaceHHa MoeH Aynin crapaeuibcsi?

— HaAO x e xoTb KorAa-HH6yAb Ao6poe ACAO CAeAaTb. 3AHuiboi-TO TH, 3AHuibca, KaK a

norAaxy!

— IIIyT! A HCKymaA TH KorAa-HH6yAb BOT 3TaKHX-TO, BOT HTO aKpHAH-To eAflT, Aa no

ceMHaAijaTH AeT B TOAOH nycTHHe MOAHTOI, MOXOM o6pocAH?

ToAy6HHK MOH, TOAbKO 3TO H ACAaA. BeCb MHp H MHpbl 3a6yAeUIb, a K OAHOMy STaKOMy

npHAennuibca, noTOMy HTO 6pHAAHaHT-TO y x oneHb AparoneHeH; OAHa BeAb TaKaa Ayma CTOHT

HHOH pa3 ueAoro co3Be3AH.a — y Hac BeAb CBOJI apn^MeTHKa. E[o6eAa-To AparoueHHa! A BeAb

HHHe H3 HHX, eii-6ory, He HHxe TC6X no pa3BHTHK>, xoTb TH 3TOMy H He noBepnuib: TaKHe

6e3AHH BepH H HeBepH>i MoryT co3epuaTb B OAHH H TOT >Ke MOMCHT, HTO, npaBO, HHOH pa3

KaXeTCH, TOAbKO 6bl eiUe OAHH BOAOCOK H nOACTHT HeAOBCK «BBepX TOpMaUIKH».. .

(Dostoevsky 1991b, 151-52)

135. Me<J>HCTO<j>eAb, jiBHBuiHCb K Oaycry, 3acBHAeTeAbCTBOBaA o ce6e, HTO OH xoneT 3Aa, a AeAaeT

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AHiuh Ao6po. Hy, 3TO KaK eMy yroAHO, si ace coBepuieHHO HanpoTHB. Si., MoaceT 6biTb,

eAHHCTBeHHHH HeAOBeK BO Bceii npHpoAe, KOTopwH AK>6HT HCTHHy H HCKpeHHO aceAaeT Ao6pa.

Si 6WA npH TOM, KorAa yMepmee Ha KpecTe CAOBO BOCXOAHAO B He6o, Heca Ha nepcax CBOHX

Aymy pacn^Toro OAecHyio pa36oHHHKa, si CAHiuaA paAOCTHbie B3BH3rH xepyBHMOB, noioiuHX H

BonHioiuHX: «OcaHHa», H rpoMOBMH BonAb BOCTopra cepa<J>HMOB, OT KOToporo noTpacAOCt

He6o H Bee MHpo3AaHHe. H BOT, KA»Hycb >Ke BceM, HTO ecTb CBATO, si xoTeA npHMKHyTb K xopy H

KpHKHyTb co BCCMH: «OcaHHa!» yace cAeTaAO, yace pBaAOCb H3 rpyAH... a BeAb, TM 3Haeuib,

oneHb MyBCTBHTeAeH H xyAOxecTBeHHo BoenpHHMHHB. H o 3ApaBbiH CMHCA — o, caMoe

HecnacTHoe CBOHCTBO Moeii npHpoAw — yAepacaA Memi H TyT B AOA^CHWX rpaHHijax, H SI

nponycTHA MrHOBeHHe! M6o HTO ace,— noAyMaA n B Ty ace MHHyTy,— HTO ace 6w BWIUAO nocAe

MoeH-TO «ocaHHM» ? ToTnac 6 H Bee yracAO Ha CBeTe H He CTaAO 6w CAynaTbca HHKaKHX

npoHcniecTBHH. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 154)

136. H BOT eAHHCTBeHHO no AOAry CAyac6bi H no counaAbHOMy MoeMy noAoaceHHio si npnHyacAeH

6MA 3aAaBHTb B ce6e xopouiHH MOMeHT H ocTaTbca npn naKOCTax. HecTb Ao6pa KTO-TO 6epeT

BCio ce6e, a MHe ocTaBAeHM B yAeA TOAbKO naKOCTH. H o si He 3aBHAyio HCCTH acHTb Ha

inapoMbiaocy, a He necTOAio6HB. rioneMy H30 Bcex cyiuecTB B MHpe TOAbKO a AHuib OAHH

o6peneH Ha npoKAHTHfl OTO Bcex nop#AOHHbix AK>ACH H Aaace Ha IIHHKH canoraMH, H6O,

BonAomaacb, AOAaceH npHHHMaTb HHOH pa3 H TaKHe nocAeACTBHa? 9L BeAb 3Haio, TyT ecTb

ceicpeT, HO ceKpeT MHe HH 3a HTO He XOTAT OTKpMTb, noTOMy HTO a, noacaAyn, TorAa,

AoraAaBiiiHCb B neM ACAO, paBKHy «ocaHHy», H TOTnac Hcne3HeT HCO6XOAHMHH MHHyc H

HaHHeTca BO BceM MHpe 6Aaropa3yMHe, a c HHM, pa3yMeeTca, H KOHCH. BceMy, Aaace ra3eTaM H

acypHaAaM, noTOMy HTO KTO ac Ha HHX TorAa CTaHeT noAnHCMBaTboi. Si BeAb 3Haro, B KOHue

KOHHOB SI nOMHpiOCb, AOHAy H SI MOH KBaApHAAHOH H y3HaiO CeKpeT. H o n O K a 3TO n p O H 3 0 H A e T ,

6yAHpyio H acpemi cepAHe ncnoAHflio Moe Ha3HaneHHe: ry6nTb THCAHH, HTO6W cnacoi OAHH.

CxoAbKO, HanpHMep, HaAO 6biAa nory6nTb Aym H ono3opHTb necTHbix penyTaijHH, HTO6M

noAyHHTb OAHOTO TOAbKO npaBeAHoro HoBa, Ha KOTopoM MCKSI TaK 3AO noAACAH BO BpeMJi OHO!

HeT, noKa He OTKpbiT cexpeT, AAJI MeHa cymecTByioT ABe npaBAw: OAHa TaMoumsm, UXHSISI, MHe

noKa coBceM HeH3BecTHaa, a Apyraa MOH. H euje HeH3BecTHO, KOTopaa 6yAeT noHHiije...

(Dostoevsky 1991b, 154)

137. Pa3 neAOBenecTBO OTpeneTca noroAOBHO OT 6ora (a a Bepio, HTO STOT nepHOA — napaAAeAb

reoAorHHecKHM nepHOAaM — coBepuiHTOi), TO caMo C06010,6e3 aHTpono<J)arHH, naAeT Bee

npeacHee MnpoB033peHHe H, rAaBHoe, BCA npeacHaa HpaBCTBeHHOCTb, H HacTynnT Bee HOBOC

AIOAH coBOKyn^Tca, HTO6M B3^Tb OT >KH3HH Bee, HTO OHa MoaceT AaTb, HO HenpeMeHHO AAa

cnacTHa H paAOCTH B OAHOM TOAbKO 3AeiimeM MHpe. HeAOBeK B03BeAHHHTca AyxoM 6oacecKOH,

THTaHHHecKOH ropAOCTH H aBHTca HeAOBeKO-6or. EacenacHO no6eacAaa yace 6e3 rpaHHU.

npHpoAy, BOAeio CBoeio H HayKOH, HCAOBCK TeM caMMM eacenacHO 6yAeT omymaTb HacAaacAeHHe

CTOAJ> BbicoKoe, HTO OHO 3aMeHHT eMy Bee npeacHHe ynoBaHHH HacAaacAeHHH He6ecHbix. BOIKHH

y3HaeT, HTO OH CMepTeH Becb, 6e3 BoacpeceHHa, H npHMeT CMepTb ropAO H cnoKOHHO, KaK 6or.

O H H3 ropAOCTH noHMeT, HTO eMy Henero ponTaTb 3a TO, HTO acH3Hb ecTb MrHOBeHHe, H

BO3AK>6HT 6paTa CBoero yace 6e30 BCHKOH M3AH. (Dostoevsky 1991b, 155-56)

138. — Bonpoc Tenepb B TOM, AyMaA MOH IOHHH MbicAHTeAb: B03MoacHO AH, HTO6W TaKoii

nepnoA HacrynHA KorAa-HH6yAb HAH HCT? ECAH HacrynHT, TO Bee peuieHo, H HeAOBenecTBO

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yCTpOHTCfl OKOHHaTeAbHO. H o TaK KaK, BBHAy 3aKOpeHeAOH TAynOCTH HeAOBeneCKOH, 3TO,

noKaAyii, eme H B Tbicany ACT He ycrpoHTOi, TO BCflKOMy, co3HaK>meMy y>Ke H Tenepb HCTHHy,

no3BOAHTeA3HO ycTpoHTboi coBepmeHHo KaK eMy yroAHO, Ha HOBHX HanaAax. B STOM CMWCAC

eMy «Bce no3BOAeHO». MaAO Toro: ecAH Aa^ce nepnoA STOT H HHKorAa He HacTynHT, HO TaK KaK

6ora H 6eccMepTH.a Bce-TaKH HeT, TO HOBOMy neAOBeKy no3BOAHTeAbHO CTaTb HeAOBeKO-6oroM,

Aa>Ke XOTJI 6w OAHOMy B HCAOM Mupe, H, y>K KOHenHO, B HOBOM HHHe, c AerKHM cepAueM

nepecKOHHTb BoiKyio npe>KHioio HpaBCTBeHHyio nperpaAy npe5KHero pa6a-HeAOBeKa, ecAH OHO

noHaAo6HTca. J\AX 6ora He cymecTByeT 3aKOHa! TAe CTaHeT 6or — TaM yace MecTO 6o>KHe! TAe

CTaHy a, TaM ce l i ac >Ke 6yAeT nepBoe MecTO... «Bce AO3BOACHO», H uia6am! (Dostoevsky 1991b,

156)

139. O H MHe, BnponeM, CKa3aA npo MCKH MHoro npaBAM. Si 6u HHKorAa 3Toro He CKa3aA ce6e.

3Haeiiib, AAeuia, 3Haeuib,— yxacHO cephe3HO H KaK 6 H KOH<]>HAeHHHaAbHO npH6aBHA HBaH,—

51 6w oneHb ^ceAaA, HTO6 OH B caMOM AeAe 6HA OH, a He a! (Dostoevsky 1991b, 160)

140. "Bceo6iuee BeceAbe, ciwex H pe3BHH roBop B ocTaAbHyio noAOBHHy Aoporn nonra BABOC

o>KHBHAHCb" (Dostoevsky 1988).

141. — BpaT HBaH 3BaA AMHTPHA ceroAHa B TpaKTHp? — 6wcTpo nepecnpocHA Aêma.

— 3 T O TOHHO TaK-c.

— B TpaKTHp «CTOAHHHMH ropoA», Ha nAomaAH?

B 3TOT CaMMH-C.

— 3 T O oneHb BO3MOXHO! — BOCKAHKHyA AAeuia B 60AMUOM BOAHeHHH. — BAaroAapro Bac,

CMepA^KOB, H3BecTHe BaacHoe, ceiiHac noiiAy TyAa.

— He BMAaBaHTe-c, — nporoBopHA eMy BCACA CMepA^KOB.

— O HeT, a B TpaKTHp aBAiocb KaK 6w HenaflHHO, 6yAbTe noKOHHM.

— Aa KyAa >Ke BM, SL BaM KaAHTKy OTonpy, — KpHKHyAa 6MAO MapbH KoHAparbeBHa.

H e T , 3AeCb 6AH5KC X OnHTb Hpe3 nAeTeHb.

H3BecTHe CTpauiHo noTpacAO AAemy. O H nycraAoi K TpaKTHpy, B TpaKTHp eMy BXOAHTb

6bIAO B erO OAeXAC HenpHAHHHO, HO OCBeAOMHTBCH Ha AeCTHHUe H BbI3BaTb HX, 3TO 6bIAO

B03MO>KHO. H o TOAbKO HTO OH IIOAOIIieA K TpaKTHpy, KaK BApyr OTBOpHAOCb OAHO OKHO H CaM

6paT HBaH 3aKpHHaA eMy H3 OKHa BHH3:

— AAeuia, MOJKeuib TM KO MHe cennac BOHTH cioAa HAH HeT? OAOAxnuib yacacHO.

— OneHb Mory, TOABKO He 3HaK>, KaK MHe B MoeM nAaTbe.

— A H KaKpa3 B OTAeAbHOH KOMHaTe, crynaii HaKpMAbup, a c6ery HaBCTpeny...

Hepe3 MHHyTy AAeuia CHACA paAOM c 6paTOM. HBaH 6MA OAHH H o6eAa/v. (Dostoevsky

1991a, 156)

1 4 2 . HaXOAHACfl H B a H , OAHaKO, He B OTAeAbHOH KOMHaTC 3 T O 6bIAO TOAbKO MeCTO y OKHa,

OTropo^ceHHoe mnpMaMH, HO CHACBUIHX 3a uinpMaMH Bce-TaKH He MOIAH BHAeTb nocTopoHHHe.

KoMHaTa 3Ta 6biAa BXOAHaa, nepBa^, c 6y<j>eTOM y 6OKOBOH CTCHH... 3aTO B ocTaAbHbix KOMHaTax

TpaKTHpa npOHCXOAHAa BCfl o6bIKHOBeHHafl TpaKTHpHaa B03HA, CAWUiaAHCb npH3WBHbie KpHKH,

OTKynopHBaHHe nHBHbix 6yTMAOK, CTyK 6HAbHpAHbix uiapoB, ryAeA opraH. (Dostoevsky 1991a,

256-57)

143. Si cennac 3Aecb CHACA H 3Haeuib HTO roBopHA ce6e: He Bepyii a B >KH3Hb, pa3yBepbca x B

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AoporoH aceHiuHHe, pa3yBepbca B nopÂKe Bemen, y6eAHO> Aaxe, HTO Bee, HanpoTHB,

6ecnopHAOHHHH, npoKAHTMH H, MOxeT 6wTi, 6ecoBCKHH xaoc, nopa3H MeHa xoTb Bee yxacw

HeAOBenecKoro pa30HapoBaHHH — a a Bce-TaKH 3axony >KHTb H y x KaK npHnaA K 3TOMy Ky6Ky,

TO He OTopByct OT Hero, noKa ero Becb He OCHAIO!.. LJeHTpocTpeMHTeAbHOH CHAM eiue CTpaumo

MHoro Ha HaiueH nAaHeTe, AAeuia. ^CHTB XOHCTCH, H a >KHBy, XOTH 6M H BonpeKH AorHKe. IlycTb

% He Bepio B nopÂOK BemeH, HO Aoporn MHe KAeHKHe, pacnycKaiomHeoi BCCHOH AHCTOHKH...

(Dostoevsky 1991a, 258)

144. A TM HTO TaK 6ecnoKOHUibca, HTO x ye3xaio. Y Hac c TO6OH eme 6or 3HaeT CKOAbKO

BpeMeHH AO OTT>e3Aa. L eAaH BenHOCTb BpeMeHH, 6eccMepTHe! (Dostoevsky 1991a, 262)

1 4 5 . ...51 B e A b H CaM TOHb-B-TOHb TaKOH >Ke MaAeHbKHH MaAbHHK, KaK H TbI, p a 3 B e TOAbKO BOT

He nocAyuiHHK. BeAb pyccKHe MaAbHHKH KaK AO CHX nop opyAyioT? H H H C TO ecTb? BOT,

HanpHMep, 3AeuiHHH BOHIOHHH TpaKTHp, BOT OHH H CXOAATOI, 3aceAH B yroA. Bcio >KH3HB

npeÂe He 3HaAH Apyr Apyra, a BMHAyT H3 TpaKTHpa, copoK ACT onsnb He 6yAyT 3HaTb Apyr

Apyra, Hy H HTO >K, o neM OHH 6yAyT paccyxAaTb, noKa nofiMaAH MHHyTKy B TpaKTHpe-TO? O

MHpoBbix Bonpocax, He HHane: ecTb AH 6or, ecTb AH 6eccMep™e? A KOTopwe B 6ora He BepyioT,

Hy Te o coijHaAH3Me H 06 aHapxH3Me 3aroBop^T, o nepeAeAKe Bcero HeAOBenecTBa no HOBOMy

uiTaTy, TaK BeAb STO OAHH x.e nepT BWHACT, Bee Te >Ke Bonpocw, TOAbKO c Apyroro KOHija. H

MHOXeCTBO, MHO>KeCTBO CaMMX O p H r H H a A b H M X pyCCKHX MaAbHHKOB TOAbKO H ACAaiOT, HTO O

BeKOBeHHbix Bonpocax roBopaT y Hac B Hame BpeMH. Pa3Be He TaK? (Dostoevsky 1991a, 262-63)

146. A noTOMy o6xo>Ky Bee ranoTesbi. BeAb y nac c TO6OH KaKaa Tenepb 3aAana? 3aAana B

TOM, H T 0 6 a KaK MO>KHO CKOpee MOr o6'bf lCHHTb T e 6 e MOK) CyTb, TO eCTb HTO SS. 3 a HeAOBeK, BO HTO

Bepyio H Ha HTO HaAeiocb, BeAb TaK, TaK? A noTOMy H O6T>^BAHIO, HTO npHHHMaio 6ora npaMO H

npocTO. H o BOT, OAHaKO, HTO HaAO OTMeTHTb: ecAH 6or ecTb H ecAH OH AeiicTBHTeAbHO co3AaA

3eMAK>, TO, KaK HaM coBepmeHHo H3BCCTHO, co3AaA OH ee no SBKAHAOBOH reoMeTpHH, a yM

HeAOBenecKHH c noHirraeM AHiiib o Tpex H3MepeHHax npocTpaHCTBa. MexAy TeM HaxoAHAHCb H

HaxoAHTca Aaxe H Tenepb reoMeTpw H (J>HAOCO<J>M, H Aaxe H3 3aMeHaTeAbHeHiuHX, KOTopbie

coMHeBaioTCii B TOM, HTO6M BCX BceAeHHaa HAH, enê o6uiHpHee — Bee 6HTHC 6WAO co3AaHO

AHiub no 3BKAHAOBOH reoMeTpHH, ocMeAHBaioToi Aaxe MenTaTb, HTO ABe napaAAeAbHwe AHHHH,

KOTOpbie , n o 3 B K A H A V , HH 3 a HTO H e MOryT COHTHCb H a 3 e M A e , M O X e T 6bITb, H COIIIAHCb 6 b l TAe-

HH6yAb B 6ecKOHeHHOCTH. H, roAy6nHK, peiiiHA TaK, HTO ecAH x Aaxe 3Toro He Mory noHATb, TO

rAe x MHe npo 6ora noRHTb. ft. cMHpeHHO co3Haiocb, HTO y utnn HCT HHKaKHX cnoco6HOcreii

pa3pemaTb TaKHe BonpocM, y Mena yM SBKAHAOBCKHH, 3eMHOH, a noTOMy rAe HaM peiuaTb o TOM,

HTO He OT MHpa cero. J\a H Te6e coBeTyio 06 STOM HHKorAa He AyMaTb, Apyr AAeuia, a nyme Bcero

HacneT 6ora: ecTb AH OH HAH HCT? Bee STO Bonpocw coBepmeHHo HecBOHCTBeHHwe yMy,

co3AaHHOMy c noHHTHeM AHiub o Tpex H3MepeHHHX. (Dostoevsky 1991a, 264)

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