Satan in Moscow: An Approach to Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita

Author(s): A. C. Wright
Source: PMLA, Vol. 88, No. 5 (Oct., 1973), pp. 1162-1172
Published by: Modern Language Association
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A. C. WRIGHT

Satan in Moscow: An Approach to Bulgakov's

The Master and Margarita

BULGAKOV'S

NOVEL The Master and

Margarita is a confusing combination of

different elements: satire, fantasy, serious
philosophical and religious questioning.l The
variety of critical commentaries has already shown
the impossibility of reducing it to one single interpretation. The action can be stated briefly. Satan,
alias Woland, arrives in Moscow with two demonic henchmen, a thug Azazello and a tomcat
Behemoth; plus an "interpreter," Koroviev.
Among bureaucrats, petty crooks, and those
simply concerned with personal gain they cause
havoc.2 But they give aid and protection to a persecuted writer in an asylum, the Master, and to his
love, Margarita, after she has agreed to act as
hostess for Satan's Ball. A hack poet, Ivan Homeless, is brought to a deeper understanding of life
and becomes a "disciple" of the Master. Central
to the book is the Master's novel about Pontius
Pilate, the chapters of which form part of Bulgakov's text and conclude simultaneously with the
story about the Master in an epilogue. A strong
connection with the Faust tradition is evident.
The form of the book is deceptive, in that Bulgakov catches us unaware: it begins as an apparent entertainment and, despite the second chapter
dealing with Pilate, the reader is enticed by the
comedy being played in Moscow long before he is
aware of the more serious elements. It is not until
Chapterxvi that we are given the second Pilate episode, only two chapters from the end of Book i.
The element of mystery, present from the beginning, serves to engage the reader further. But the
mystery presented in Book I, instead of being
explained as the reader expects, acquires in Book
II a philosophical dimension, involving fundamental issues in life. Remarkably, the Pilate episodes-which consist of only four out of thirty-one
chapters,and a section of the epilogue-now appear
to be what the book is all about. The contrast of

the farcical, almost slapstick, scenes where the

devil's agents are at work, with the underlying and
eternal tragedy of the stories both of Pilate and of
the Master gives added weight to the latter: the
petty, everyday lives of those who succumb to
Satan's trickery are farcical compared with the
lives of those searching for enduring values. The
"schizophrenia"of those who, like Ivan Homeless,
try to compromise between the two is further suggested in the tension created by the contrasting
styles.
My purpose in this paper is to examine the role
of the satanic elements and the story of Pilate and
Christ- relating these on the one hand to the
Master and Margarita themselves and on the
other to popular tradition, including that of
Faust. The elements of comedy, pure fantasy, and
satire are also important, but more obvious, and
will not be treated directly here.
II
"Ein Teil von jener Kraft, / Die stets das Bose
will und stets das Gute schafft." Thus Mephistopheles names himself in the "Studierzimmer"
scene of Goethe's Faust, Part I (11.1,335-36), and
so, with an epigraph, does Bulgakov begin his
novel.3Perhaps it would have been better if he had
not done so. For although it may be true that
Bulgakov's devil "eternally works good," there is
very little evidence to suggest that he "eternally
wills evil." If we read on in Faust, we see how little
the two figures correspond:
Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint!
Und das mit Recht; dennalles, was entsteht,
1st wert, daI3es zugrundegeht;
Drumbesserwar's,daI3nichtsentstinde.
Mephistopheles regards negation as his aim, considers nonexistence better than existence and, in
what follows, sees as primary the darkness out of
which light was created; with the end of created
matter the light will also disappear. That Mephis-

1162

A. C. Wright
topheles is mistaken in his views is evident with
Faust's redemption at the end of Part II: his understanding is in fact limited, and indeed his power
too-of which we are aware even in the "Prolog im
Himmel." Woland, on the other hand, regards
darkness as the other side of light, to which he is
not opposed: there is no indication that he wants
to thwart God's purposes or even bring about
man's damnation. Indeed, to some people he is
plainly beneficent.
He is a confusing figure, and one may tend initially to agree that the book "leaves a sense that
there is still something missing: there is a feeling
that Bulgakov just failed to place the keystone on
his philosophical construct. The difficulty centres
on his attitude to his Devil."4 Yet if we try to sort
out the concepts of the devil elsewhere, both in the
Bible and in popular tradition, we are forced to
conclude that a similar ambiguity exists there: we
should surely not expect Bulgakov to provide a
clear-cut expression of what has eluded others for
centuries. To do so he would have had to limit the
devil to such an extent that his universality would
be restricted as well: he would in fact become
something like the stock character of a morality
play. Indeed, because Bulgakov's devil is not precisely defined, he becomes a more meaningful figure, in the same way that the concept of the devil
can be meaningful in human lives however vaguely
it is understood.
The epigraph, however, is not the only reference
to Goethe's Faust. A poodle (the form in which
Mephistopheles first appears to Faust) is mentioned twice: Woland, in the first chapter, has a
cane with a black handle in the form of a poodle's
head; the hostess at the ball, whose name must be
Margarita (cf. Margarete in Goethe) has to wear a
picture of a black poodle around her neck. Wagner
(Faust's student) is mentioned by Ivan as being a
possible name for the "consultant." Most important of all, the very name "Woland" is taken from
Faust: "Platz! Junker Voland kommt. Platz!
suI3er Pobel, Platz!" (1. 4,023). References to
Woland's limping (ambiguous in the first chapter,
more specific in the scenes surrounding Satan's
Ball, with his maid rubbing his knee) are also
paralleled in Faust: "Was hinkt der Kerl auf
einem FuI3?" (1. 2,184). And indeed, the Master
refers directly to Faust (the opera) at his first meeting with Ivan. Some of these references are common to popular tradition too. The devil is frequently portrayed as limping, possibly because of

1163

his goat's or horse's foot (we in fact get another

character with goat's feet in the chapter "Flight,"
p. 264). "Voland" or "Wieland" occurs as an old
German name for the devil, who was conceived of
as a master smith and builder, a descendant of
Odin, and was characterized by his limp.5 The
Soviet critics, Vulis and Lakshin, both mention
the variant traditional form "Valand" which, as
Lakshin points out, is spoken in the novel by a
box-office girl, who is uncertain of the so-called
magician's name (p. 199).6

Such links, both with Faust and tradition, are

clearly deliberate, despite the differences between
Mephistopheles and Woland. Bulgakov is conscious of writing within the "Faust tradition." But
he is composing his own Faust, developing and
adding to the legend: in fact using it in the same
way as he uses the New Testament elsewhere,
changing where necessary in accordance with his
prerogative as a creative artist.7 The detailsmay
be different but the overall comparison remains
valid. And in general terms, the duality of good
and evil in Goethe is not far removed from that in
Bulgakov- the difference being that Mephistopheles is not apprised of God's purposes to the
extent that Woland evidently is. And it seems
reasonable to agree with Vulis that the name of
"Woland" for Satan may have been chosen in
preference to better-known names because of its
lack of associations, and precisely because Bulgakov wishes to avoid the concept of the devil as a
rebellious, fallen angel.
What do we know about Woland? In some ways
he is a more elusive figure than his henchmen, taking little direct part in the punishments they
inflict and appearing less frequently. In Chapter
xxxii we see his whole retinue transformed into
their true (nonhuman) shapes, but unlike the
others, Woland is not describedat all, he is merely
"flying in his true shape" (p. 384) and his horse's
trappings are described instead. This greater
remoteness may, of course, be appropriate for
someone of his high station. He orders punishment and plays the role of tempter (e.g., in his
stage appearance, where he hands out goods and
money which later disappear), bringing out the
baser instincts in men. He is knowledgeable by
means of a globe he has with him, but less so with
regard to God's purposes, which he learns through
the Apostle Matthu Levi. He is powerful, if not
omnipotent: he is unable himself to grant mercy
to a sinner, Frieda, since "Every department must

1164

An Approach to Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita

take care of its own affairs" (p. 296). We can

hardly agree with Vulis that his power and
authority, as with Pilate, lead him to the point
"beyond which truth ends and the lie begins,
beyond which there is no light, no good, but only
darkness, evil . . . authority is transformed into
arbitrariness, anarchy, might-and weakness"
(Vulis, p. 129). This may be true of Pilate, but not
of Woland, who indeed works good as far as the
Master and Margarita are concerned, and fulfills
God's request in giving the Master peace. Thus
Margarita exclaims "Great Woland! His solution
is so much better than anything I could have
thought of!" (p. 376).
Woland's nature will become clearer if we
examine the broad conceptions of Satan as they
occur in the Judeo-Christian tradition. We may
trace three stages of development, corresponding
roughly to the Old Testament, to the Rabbinic,
apocryphal, and apocalyptic literature, and to the
New Testament. The name "Satan," the Old
Hebrew for "adversary," occurs in the Old Testament initially as a common noun with this meaning. Satan appears as a separate personality only
three times, and twice the article "the" precedes
the noun: it has not yet become a name. The first
(chronologically) of these occasions is in Zechariah
iii.1-2, where Satan is the angel accusing Joshua
before God: a kind of prosecuting counsel. The
second and best-known occasion is in the Book of
Job where, beyond accusing Job, Satan urges God
to test him, and plagues him with misfortunes
with God's permission (and with considerable
pleasure). In I Chronicles xxi.1, Satan (now used as
a proper name) "provokes David to number
Israel." The Old Testament conception has been
summarized thus:
It is generallyagreed that in each of these passages
Satan remainsone of the angel-ministersof Yahweh.
He appearsamongthe "sonsof God" in heaven,andis
directlyunderGod's control. He undertakesnothing
withoutfirstreceivingHis permission.He is therefore
in no sensea demonor fallenangel. Despitethe rather
cynicalview of humannaturewhichis exhibitedin the
account given to him in the Book of Job, there is no
hint of the malignanthostilityto God and man which
characterizesSatan in the opening pages of the New
Testament, and throughout subsequent Christian
literature.(Langton,p. 164)
In Rabbinic literature, however, we find Satan,
identified with "Sammael," as chief of the fallen

angels who, according to one account, werejealous

of the creation of Adam. Sammael, taking possession of the serpent, brings about the fall of man
and is himself, with the other angels involved,
thrown from heaven. Elsewhere, he appears (as in
the Old Testament) as accuser and tempter, but
with the role of destroyer added. He also becomes
the angel of death. In the Talmud he is shown as
either being, or making use of, the "evil impulse"
in man, an evil impulse that in one book is
regarded as essential to the existence of the world
(Langton, p. 57). (We might note that in the novel
it is hardly surprisingthat Woland's nationality is
in doubt-the editor Berlioz cannot say definitely
that he is a foreigner-since all men partake of this
"evil impulse." And of course Woland, in a conversation with Matthu Levi, talks of the necessity
of evil.) The idea of Satan and others as essentially
evil spirits, with a bewildering variety of names
(including that of Azazel), and accounts of the fall
from heaven are developed in the Apocrypha and
apocalyptic writings.
It is this latter concept that continues into the
New Testament. Christ, it seems, undoubtedly
"did believe in Satan as the personal head of the
kingdom of evil which is opposed to the reign of
God in the lives of men" (Langton, p. 173). The
idea of Satan as "the evil one" or the "prince of
evil" ("prince of the world" in the fourth gospel),
identified rightly or wrongly with Beelzebub, is
now largely accepted, and remains so in later tradition.
It will be seen that Bulgakov's fundamental concept of the devil is closest to that found in the Old
Testament and in some of the Rabbinic literature,
and far removed from the later view of him as an
essentially evil being. Thus in addition to the
obvious changes Bulgakov has made in material
drawn from the New Testament concerning
Christ and Pilate, he has also rejectedits demonology. Clearly, too, the passages in the Apocrypha
and the New Testament dealing with Satan's ultimate destruction are not appropriate to Bulgakov's purpose. Indeed, it seems quite fitting that
Woland should be so disdainful of Matthu Levi,
the evangelist who shows Christ as saying that on
the Day of Judgment the "King" shall say to the
wicked "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, preparedfor the devil and his angels"
(Matthew xxv.41; my italics). Historically it is not
so difficult to pin down Bulgakov's devil fairly

A. C. Wright
accurately. He is a consistent figure, related to the
earlier Jewish writings which, as Jones indicates
(pp. 158-59), point to the fundamental unity of the
idea of God and Devil-a unity that can be further
demonstrated on an etymological basis. Or, to use
the simile Woland himself uses in his discussion
with Matthu Levi (p. 368), we might regard the
devil simply as God's shadow. Even in later tradition, the devil is not always evil, but appears frequently as a friendly helper of mankind (Jones, p.
167): there is nothing unusual about his assistance
to the Master.
There are, however, complications when we consider the psychological importance of a belief in
the devil. Jones points to the idea of the devil as a
father figure, an exteriorization of the subconscious wishes on the part of the son both to imitate
and defy (p. 155). Without getting involved in the
complexities of psychoanalysis, we might find it
helpful to extend this idea from our relationship
with a human father to that with the "Heavenly
Father," toward whom man has frequently shown
a similar attitude. This leads us directly to the
"sin" of Faust who, by his desire for omniscience
and omnipotence, is defying God in his very attempt at imitation. It is also the sin of Satan himself in the "fall" legends and, to some extent, that
of any scientist or creative artist who, it may be
said, in a small way is trying to usurp God's
powers. It is thus the sin of the Master too, and of
striving man ("Es irrt der Mensch, solang er
strebt," Faust, 1. 317): and here we find our basic
link with the Faust tradition.
The Master creates in a world removed from
that of everyday life, in a basement, and in this he
resembles Faust poring over his books: "Weh!
Steck' ich in dem Kerker noch? / Verfluchtes
dumpfes

Mauerloch..."

(11. 398-99).8

Faust

too creates: a homunculus which it is suggested

the Master also should create after he has achieved
peace. Faust does this by using unholy powers,
whereas the Master is involved with such only
indirectly, and the Master shares none of Faust's
arrogance. Nevertheless both have ultimately a
similar aim: the assertion of man as imitator of
God. The lead in this direction was given in
Genesis iii, where man is confronted with the tree
of knowledge of good and evil:
For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof,
thenyoureyes shallbe opened,and ye shall be as gods,
knowinggood and evil....

1165

And the Lord God said, Behold, the man is become

as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he
put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life,
and eat, and live for ever:
Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the
garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he
was taken.
It will be observed that as soon as we link Bulgakov's work to the theme of Faust and the fall of
man, we can no longer accept the simple comparison of Woland with Satan seen as God's angelminister. Rather, we see man as rebellious,
tempted by a rebel Satan in the form of a serpent,
a Satan who is cast from heaven in the same way
as man is driven from the garden: the Satan of the
Apocrypha and later writings. Essentially, man is
seeking freedom from the tyranny of knowing
only what is good, a process that leads to gnosticism and the worship of a power of evil as a
liberation from such tyranny. From there it is a
short step to the heresy of Manichaeism with its
dualistic view of good and evil, and interestingly
enough it is in a Manichaean sect, the Cathari,
that the devil appears in the shape of a tomcat
(Jones, pp. 160, 209), providing some basis for
Behemoth in the novel.
In this, I would submit, we see a reflection of
the kind of ambiguity with which we are faced
whenever we attempt to confront the whole problem of evil. Once man has been expelled from the
garden, once he is free to know good and evil, the
concept of the devil seems bound to expand to
take care of man's desire for such knowledge:
there is no escaping the logic of this process,
neither in popular tradition nor in The Master and
Margarita. The problem has been posed by
Dostoevsky in The Grand Inquisitor,where Christ,
in giving man freedom, is virtually accused of
gnosticism; he legitimizes the Fall of Adam,
whereas the Grand Inquisitor strives to reestablish man's pre-Fall condition. So too, on the level
of the masses, does Woland, providing them with
miracle, mystery, and authority. Neither can be
fully successful, since man has already fallen. But
Woland, unlike the Grand Inquisitor, recognizes
those who genuinely strive for freedom. Such figures are ultimately saved, be it Christ in Dostoevsky, Faust ("Wer immer strebend sich bemuht, /
Den konnen wir erlosen," 11. 11,936-37) and
Gretchen in Goethe, or the Master and Margarita
in Bulgakov.

1166

An Approachto Bulgakov'sThe Master and Margarita

This, however, is in striking contrast to the

majority of people in the society in which Woland
appears. Indeed, an interesting description of
the house belonging to the Writers' Union,
MASSOLIT, presents a dreary, human

parody of

hell, complete with its own devil. At midnight a

band strikes up, people dance, someone is shouting "Hallelujah," cymbals clash: "In short, hell.
And at midnight there was a vision in hell. A dazzlingly handsome black-eyed man with a daggershaped beard, in a frock coat, came out on the
veranda and cast a royal eye around his domain"
(p. 66). The dancing at midnight is reminiscent of
Satan's Ball later in the novel, while Archibald
Archibaldovich parallels Satan, both in his relationship to his "domain" and in his appearance. There are even, we learn later, "tom cats
slinking around the veranda" (p. 82). But all this
is "reality," it is a hell on earth. Archibald
Archibaldovich is said "by mystics" to have been
a buccaneer-he is constantly described as such
(as when, at the end of the chapter, the doorman
imagines his own fate at Archibald Archibaldovich's hands)-but: "The seductive mystics are
lying. There are no Caribbean Seas in the world,
no reckless buccaneers are sailing them." This is
not hell, this is the Griboyedov house, there is
nothing beyond. Or is there? There is only this:
"...

. And ice melting in the bowl, and someone's

bovine bloodshot eyes at the next table, and fear,

fear . . . Oh, gods, gods, poison, give me poison!"
(p. 67). Suddenly there is a direct reference to
Pilate, and all that he will come to imply. These
people are living in hell and painfully trying not to
be aware of it or of the other realities beyond.
Archibald Archibaldovich does realize it and
reveals his affinity with Koroviev and Behemoth at
the end of the novel when he entertains them. A
society that denies hell (and God too) succeeds
nevertheless in creating it.
III
Behemoth and Azazello, while mainly supporting Woland in his role, also have a certain basis in
scripture and tradition. Behemoth appears only
once in the Bible, in Job xl.15-24: "Behold now
behemoth, which I made with thee; he eateth grass
as an ox." This animal is generally presumed to be
the hippopotamus, hence the meaning the name
has taken in Russian. However, the idea is linked
with that of the primeval monster which is God's
enemy, occurring also as Rahab and Leviathan, or

described simply as a monster or a dragon. From

this there is a further link to Azazel (portrayed as
a dragon in the Apocalypse of Abraham) and, in
Revelation xii.9, to the serpent and the devil himself (Langton, pp. 208-09). Clearly, Behemoth in
the novel makes a good monster: his particular
form may stem both from the common idea of a
cat as a witch's familiar and from the already indicated connection of a tomcat with a Manichaean
sect, the Cathari. Vulis also points to the mention
in a bull of Pope Gregory ix of the active part
played by a tomcat in a witch's sabbath, and to the
name's appearance in the Malleus Maleficarum
("Also Behemoth, that is, Beast, because he makes
men bestial").9 Bulgakov's addition to Behemoth
of the role of joker (" . . . a tom cat, amusing the
Prince of Darkness . . a demon page, the best

jester who had ever existed in the world," p. 384),

may have been suggested by the frequent use of a
jester accompanying the devil in English morality
plays,10although again a similar idea is present in
Faust: "Von alien Geistern, die verneinen, / Ist
mir der Schalk am wenigsten zur Last" (11.33839).
Azazello, in his true shape, is described as "the
demon of the waterless desert, the killer-demon"
(p. 384). The name, in the form of Azazel, occurs
once in the Old Testament, in Leviticus xvi.8-22:
And Aaron shall cast lots upon the two goats; one lot
for the Lord, and the otherlot for the scapegoat[i.e.,
Azazel]. . .
But the goat, on whichthe lot fell to be the scapegoat,
shall be presentedalive before the Lord, to make an
atonementwith him, and to let him go for a scapegoat
into the wilderness. . .
And Aaronshall lay both his handsupon the head of
the live goat, and confessover him all the iniquitiesof
the childrenof Israel,and all theirtransgressions
in all
theirsins, puttingthem uponthe head of the goat, and
shall send him away by the hand of a fit man into the
wilderness:
And the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities
unto a land not inhabited:and he shalllet go the goat
in the wilderness.
It is not difficult to see how such a figure may become transformed into the demon of the waterless
desert. However, Bulgakov does not appear to
have made use of the original conception of Azazel
as scapegoat, although we might notice that in the
Old Testament Azazel fulfills a function similar to
that of Christ, who also takes upon himself the
sins of the world. (Perhaps we might regardhim as

A. C. Wright
Christ's "shadow"-and unholy counterpartopposite in every way.) Bulgakov's figure is indeed
closer to the Azazel of the apocalyptic book
I Enoch: one of the fallen angels (later their
leader) responsible for bloodshed and lawlessness
(Langton, p. 122) and bound in the desert until his
ultimate destruction by fire. In the Apocalypse of
Abraham he is further associated with hell and
shares with God dominion over the world (Langton, p. 131). He becomes identified both with the
serpent and with the great dragon who consumes
the wicked. Azazel is relevant to the themes in the
novel in that there is a connection both with the
"fall" concept of the devil and, possibly, with
gnostic ideas, in that Azazel is said to have taught
men unrighteousness and the eternal secrets of
heaven (including how to make swords-he is
shown with a sword several times in The Master
and Margarita). Otherwise, Bulgakov seems to
have made use only of the name and the idea of
the killer-demon: "Punching a house manager on
the jaw, or kicking out an uncle, or shooting someone, or other trifles of that kind-those are directly
in my line" (p. 246).
Yet Azazello is important in providing the basis
for one of the book's dominant leitmotifs. We
know that he hits the heart, "In any place you
name any auricle, any ventricle" (p. 292). It is a
variation of this theme that is used when man is in
the presence of one of the unholy powers. Berlioz,
before his first encounter with Woland, finds "his
heart thumped and dropped somewhere for a second, then returned, but with a blunt needle stuck
in it" (p. 4). Ivan returns to Woland "With a chill
in his heart" (p. 52). Others experience the same:
"Nevertheless, a little needle seemed to prick the
chairman somewhere deep down in his heart"
(pp. 111-12); "A sense of danger . . . crept into
Rimsky's heart" (p. 174); " ... the same voice

broke in, chilling the bartender's heart" (p. 225).

There is also a variant on the needle theme: "At
every word, somebody stuck a needle into his
[Likhodeyev's] brain" (p. 85). The Master, too,
describes his being overcome by fear with the
words "a cold and sinuous octopus was feeling
with its tentacles directly for my heart" (p. 162).
We shall see later that there is also a link with
Pilate. A similar idea occurs in Goethe: before
the appearance of the first spirit, Faust cries out
"Ha! wie's in meinem Herzen reif3t!"(1. 477). And
indeed, from this motif in Faust we receive an important clue about Azazello himself. Margarete

1167

says of Mephistopheles:
Es hat mir in meinem Leben

So nichtseinenStich ins Herzgegeben,

Als des Menschen widrig Gesicht.
(11.3,473-75; my italics)

From this we see that Azazello, rather than

Woland, is the true counterpart to Mephistopheles: his "bandit's mug" referred to by Margarita (p. 244) corresponds to Margarete's reference to the "widrig Gesicht" which gave her a
stab in the heart, and both he and Mephistopheles,
being only in subordinate positions, lack the
understanding of God's purposes that Woland
and, presumably, Lucifer have.
There is a fundamental unity in the three major
satanic characters. In demonology, the distinction
between Satan himself, other fallen angels such as
Azazel, and the primitive nrionsteror serpent is
far from clear: rather they are different facets of a
single conception. The same is true of Bulgakov's
unholy powers, whom we may regard as a satanic
Trinity, in which Woland plays the major role.1"
What, however, of Koroviev, "the self-styled
interpreter of the mysterious consultant who
needed no interpreters"? Transformed, he is "a
purple knight with a somber, never-smiling face.
His chin rested on his chest, he did not look at the
moon and cared nothing for the earth, he was
thinking his own thoughts as he flew at Woland's
side" (p. 384). The title of interpreter,used several
times in the book, would seem to set him apart
from Woland, Azazello, and Behemoth. So too
does his Russian name-although this appears to
be a pseudonym, for when first asked his name he
gives only an indefinite answer: "My name . . . is
. . . well ... let us say, Koroviev" (p. 107), and

none of the other satanic characters address him

as such. Nothing here, in his description or in his
other name, Fagot, provides any specific identification with an individual; thus we may be advised
to leave him as the devil's human representativeon
earth,'2 and be content with Bulgakov's earlier
description: "Magician, choirmaster, interpreter,
or the devil knows what else in truth" (p. 267;
obviously the devil does know).
A minor figure, Abaddon, is taken from Revelation ix.11, where the demons in the shape of
beasts are said to have "a king over them, which is
the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the
Hebrew tongue is Abaddon, but in the Greek
tongue hath his name Apollyon." In allowing

1168

An Approach to Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita

Abaddon to kill, however, Bulgakov is making

use more of the Hebrew meaning of the word
("destruction"), as it appears in the Old Testament
(Langton, pp. 206-07), since the demons in Revelation are forbidden to kill but are given power to
hurt "only those men which have not the seal of
God in their foreheads" (Revelation ix.4). Although Vulis points out that the name is also used
in one of the Faust books for a minister of Lucifer,
this is hardly the conception we have here: Abaddon in his work of destruction is "remarkablyimpartial and sympathizes equally with both contending sides" (p. 275), and we might take this as
applying to the duality of Satan and God as well
-Abaddon being independent of Woland. In the
Bible, Abaddon remains an angel of God:13in the
novel, he in fact saves a child from sin by killing
him.
With Woland's maid Hella, we become involved
in the element of witchcraft and popular superstition, which is itself an extension of the idea of the
devil. Hella is clearly a vampire: the descriptions
support one character's view of her as a dead
woman, and she has the red hair commonly
ascribed to vampires (Jones, p. 115). The name
may be derived from Hell, the goddess of death in
Teutonic mythology.14
In general Bulgakov's use of witchcraft follows
tradition fairly closely, but is again modified for
the author's own ends. Margarita herself is linked
both with this tradition and, again, with the Faust
story: she is witch and Gretchen combined. Like
Gretchen, she loves the Master and is intimately
concerned in bringing about his salvation- and
that of others too, for she has the quality of mercy.
But whereas Gretchen is the unfortunate victim of
Faust, Margarita chooses her association with the
Master to escape from her empty existence, and
must share his fate for this reason. By actively
rejoicing in her satanic role, she becomes a
stronger figure than the Master, taking over the
side of Faust that represents a positive man of
action- the side the Master lacks. It is she, not
the Master, who makes a "pact" with the devil:
"I would pawn my soul to the devil to find out
whether he is alive or dead" (p. 242). Significantly,
the "pact" is made with Azazello, who overhears
her-giving further weight to the view of him as
Mephistopheles. From that point on she becomes
the traditional witch.
Thus, tradition has it that the witch flies to the
Sabbath-as does Margarita- on a broomstick

(or on the devil himself in the form of either a

horse or a he-goat), after a witch's salve has been
rubbed into the body.15(Goethe also refers to this:
"Die Salbe gibt den Hexen Mut," 1. 4,008.) A
counterfeit body is left behind to deceive the
witch's husband: the presence of such in the novel
is indicated by Azazello's killing of "the gloomy
woman who was awaiting the return of her husband" (p. 375). At the Sabbath itself, a young and
beautiful witch plays the central part, after being
bathed in a mixture containing blood- but with a
number of other materials added that are considerably less pleasant than those indicated for
Margarita. The Sabbath consists of an entrance
and procession, acts of homage to Satan, a banquet, the Black Mass, a dance, and finally an incestuous sexual orgy: compare this with Satan's
Ball in the novel. Bulgakov has excluded any overt
reference to the sexual significance of both the
flight and the Sabbath (except for Margarita's
appearing naked), nor is there a Black Mass, although on a previous occasion (p. 220) a brocade
altar cloth is mentioned. We have here no more
than a parody of the Sabbath, in the same way
that there is an element of parody in all Bulgakov's
major figures. Yet the basic significance of all this
remains a sexual one, and indeed in Margarita
there seems to be an underlying sexuality, never
fully expressed. Margarita admires the way
Azazello shoots because she "had a passion for
all people who did anything to perfection" (p.
293); later she says of herself: "I like speed and
nakedness" (p. 374). We may recall here that
Goethe's Gretchen is not without sensuality
either. But Bulgakov has preferrednot to develop
this theme: although the love of the Master and
Margarita is illicit and both leave their respective
spouses so that Margarita can become the Master's "secret wife," their life together is idyllic
rather then sexual (pp. 159-60); an inconsistency,
perhaps, in the novel.
IV
The story of Pontius Pilate and Christ is related
through three differentcharactersin the novel: by
Woland in the second chapter, by Ivan in a dream
in Chapter xvi, and by the Master, through his
manuscript, in Chapters xxv and xxvi. It is related
as a fact: Woland was present at Christ's interview
with Pilate, the Master "guessed" the scene accurately (p. 151), and Ivan's dream is but a continuation of Woland's account (which Ivan also

A. C. Wright
takes for a dream initially). The realism of all four
chapters is equal to that of the Moscow episodes,
to which end Hebrew names are used (translated
in the case of Iscariot from Kerioth).
The changes Bulgakov makes in the Gospel
story serve first of all to emphasize the factual
nature of the events. "You of all people should
know that nothing that is told in the Gospels has
ever really happened, and if we begin to cite the
Gospels as a source of historical data...,"
Woland says to Berlioz (pp. 44-45). In making
changes Bulgakov reestablishes the fact of Pilate
and of Christ the man; we are presented with the
story "as it really happened," as opposed to the
"myth" (in the Soviet view) it gave rise to. This is
not to say the Gospels are considered false, for a
myth is always an expression of a basic truth;
rather Bulgakov presents us with facts that differ
in detail but ultimately do nothing to alter the
fundamental message of the Gospels. Once again
he is reinterpreting in his own fashion, giving
greater, not lesser, stature to Christ and Pilate in
making them more human rather than the symbolic figures they have become, and reemphasizing the importance they have for the twentieth
century.16In this, we might note, there is nothing
contrary to the spirit of the New Testament, for
the Gospels "are not histories or biographies, but
didactic, apologetic, 'evangelical' writings....
Their main purpose is not to preserve a record of
the past, but to set forth 'the common salvation.' "17
The changes made can be reduced to three essentials. Christ is a lonely figure with no popular
appeal, despite rumors spread about him: thus
the elimination of all but one of his apostles and
his own denial of a triumphalentry into Jerusalem.
Second, Matthu Levi, his companion, invents the
stories about him and is his only true disciple, loving him to the extent that he wishes to kill him to
spare him pain, and attempting to bury Christ's
body (instead of Joseph of Arimathaea in the
Gospels). Third, Pilate is sufficientlyconvinced by
Christ to become his friend in secret, and to kill
Judas. In his disguised orders to Aphranius, he is
actually speaking of himself: "As for the information, it is that one of Ha-Nozri's secret friends,
incensed at the monstrous treachery of this
money-changer, is plotting with his accomplices to
kill him tonight, and to return the money paid for
the betrayal to the High Priest with a note, 'Take
back the accursed money' " (p. 321).

1169

The reason for the change with regard to Pilate

is not difficultto find: the work is essentially about
Pilate and his dilemma, and the secret murder of
Judas by a man supposedly of enormous power
illustrates his true cowardice and ineffectiveness.
It is a small change, for in any case the manner of
Judas' death remains obscure, and his supposed
suicide is referred to only in Matthew's gospel.
The portrayal of Christ, and of Matthew, is a
more drastic departure from the Gospels, and can
be explained only in terms of the novel's whole
purpose. We are, after all, concerned with the relevance of the story to modern times. A figure parallel to a Christ, with a following, is difficult to
imagine in Moscow: he would of necessity become
a political figure with whom few would have much
in common. But the lonely individual belongs to
all modern societies and can readily be identified
with; he becomes an object of interest- and indeed
we have such a figure in the person of the Master.
Christ's fear and denials, his desire merely to be
released, are reflected in the Master's dread and
desire for escape. Both are in conflict with their
societies as a result of unorthodox views, both are
simple men with a vision. Both ultimately triumph
over society in their "immortality"-in a way
impossible for the irresolute Pilate, who is also
resurrected in the critic Latunsky, the Master's
antagonist.18One could add to this the informer
Judas, resurrected in the shape of Aloisy
Mogarych, or Matthu Levi in Ivan, whom the
Master actually addresses as "disciple" (p. 379).
What happens today has happened before, an
idea remains valid from generation to generation,
no matter by whom it is expressed. The Master's
life work is his novel, which he burns and which is
saved largely through Margarita. Christ's "life
work" is reported (in its essence if not in its detail)
by Matthu Levi in a parchment that Christ wishes
him to burn (p. 22). But manuscripts do not burn.
Neither the Master's lifework nor Christ's is
destroyed: Matthew's parchment becomes the
most popular and widely used of the Gospels in the
early church.
Christ, of course, is the propagandist not only
of God's word but of freedom, both personal and
political: "a time will come when there shall be
neither Caesars, nor any other rulers. Man will
come into the Kingdom of truth and justice,
where there will be no need for any authority" (p.
30). Here Caiaphas is his true opponent, the
Grand Inquisitor over again, with the role of

1170

An Approach to Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita

political protector of the people added: "You

wanted to release him [Yeshua] so that he might
incite the populace, mock the faith, and bring the
people under Roman swords! But while I, the
High Priest of Judea, am alive, I will allow no profanation of the faith, I will protect the people!"
(p. 38). Pilate's dilemma is that he is forced to condemn for political reasons the one man who could
give him personal freedom. He knows he is guilty
of cowardice, that he will be linked in immortality
with the figure of Christ: famous not as the bold
Rider of the Golden Spear but as he who washed
his hands of the affair (referredto obliquely in the
novel: "He rubbed his hands as though washing
them," pp. 31-32). Pilate is, after all, a man aware
of history and of the fact that he is going to die:
his illness is such that he constantly turns to
thoughts of poison. But without an act of moral
heroism of which he is incapable- because he is
not free to carry it out- he will be condemned by
posterity: "Short, incoherent and extraordinary
thoughts rushed through Pilate's mind. 'Lost!'
Then, 'We are lost!' And then an altogether absurd idea among the others, about some sort of
immortality, and for some reason the thought of
immortality gave him intolerable anguish" (p. 29).
The Rider of the Golden Spear can use it only to
prick Yeshua's heart, as a futile act of mercy
(p. 194). His immortality consists of two thousand
years on a mountaintop before he is free to join
the man who has become his personal savior.
It is not difficult to find parallels to twentiethcentury Russia here. Authority, orthodoxy, protection of the people, personal cowardice in face of
the system one lives in, are all present in modern
societies, not only communist ones. But in addition Bulgakov again provides us with formal
links, of which the most important is, of course,
the Master's novel itself and the role it plays in the
Moscow scenes: we are not allowed to forget the
Pilate chapters while we read the others. Then
there is the constant repetition of certain motifs.
The spear used to prick Yeshua's heart reminds us
of the devil pricking men, and of the octopus feeling for the Master's heart. The idea of blood, or
the color of blood-Pilate's cloak with a bloodred lining, the devil drinking Baron Meigel's
blood, etc.-pervades the whole novel.'9 Roses
and the scent of rose oil link Pilate (pp. 17, 39)
with the Master and Margarita (pp. 159, 244) and
with Satan's Ball (p. 276). So too the idea of
poison: Pilate is associated with Griboyedov's

(p. 67), with Margarita (who, had she not met the
Master, "would have poisoned herself, for her life
was empty," p. 157-as was Pilate's life) and
finally with the Master and Margarita, poisoned
with the very wine that Pilate was drinking (pp.
374-75). A cloud "boiling and tumbling on the
earth" is always present "at moments of world
catastrophe" (p. 401), Bulgakov tells us, after having repeatedly illustrated the theme as it applies to
individual cases. Thus a storm takes place at
Christ's execution and at the moment of Pilate's
greatest anguish, when Aphranius comes to him
(p. 315); when the Master burns his manuscript
and Margarita comes (pp. 163-64); when Ivan is
in a state of schizophrenia at the clinic (pp. 12930); and when the Master and Margarita take
their farewells of the city (pp. 377-78).
More obvious, perhaps, are the constant references to the moon, which link the historical, the
"real," and the fantastic. The full moon, of course,
has long been accredited with having an influence
on human behavior, and is in accordance with the
element of witchcraft. But beyond this, it is used
more generally in the book to indicate the presence of something beyond everyday life-whether
this is expressed in the moonlight path that Pilate
will walk with Christ or the gilded moon that
Berlioz glimpses in the few seconds before his
death.
If we compare Pilate, essentially an ordinary
man, with other ordinary men in Moscow, we see
that he behaves in a similar fashion to them. When
confronted by events that do not conform to those
within his experience, he is disorientated as they
are and has difficultyin believing the evidence presented by his senses. Thus he reacts to the appearance of the Son of God in the man Yeshua in
much the same ways as Berlioz reacts to the appearance of the devil. For Berlioz
that fieryair beforehim condensedand spanitselfinto
a transparentcitizen of the strangestappearance....
The life which Berliozhad led until that momenthad
not prepared him for extraordinaryphenomena.
Turningstill paler, he stared with bulging eyes and
thought with consternation'This cannot be'!" (p. 4)
He regards this afterwards as a hallucination. In
the next chapter, Pilate
raisedhis eyes to the prisonerand saw that a column
of dust had taken fire next to him.

. .

. this may have

beenthe bloodrushingup to his templesand throbbing

there,but somethinghad happenedto the Procurator's
vision. It seemedto him that the prisoner'shead had

A. C. Wright
dissolved,and anotherappearedin its place.A golden
crown with widely spaced points sat on this bald
head.... It seemed to Pilate that everythingaround
him . . . had disappeared. . . Somethingstrangehad
also happened to the Procurator'sears: it was as
though he hearda distant,low, and menacingsound
of trumpets . . . With a great effort, Pilate drove out

the apparition.(pp. 28-29)

There is the same intolerable heat of the day, for
both there is a strange unfamiliarity in the
normally familiar:
We musttake note of the firststrangethingaboutthat
dreadful May evening. Not a soul was to be seen
around.... At that hour, when it no longer seemed
possibleto breathe,whenthe sun wastumblingin a dry
haze somewherebehind the Sadovoye circle, leaving
Moscow scorchedand gasping,nobody came to cool
off under the lindens, to sit down on a bench. The
avenue was deserted.(p. 3)
[Pilate]glancedaroundhim, at the visibleworld,and
was astonished at the change....

an opaque purple

wave swam before him; strangewater weeds swayed

within it, floating away somewhere, and carrying
Pilate with them. He was now swept away, burning
and suffocatingwith the most terribleof wraths-the
wrath of impotence."I cannot breathe,"said Pilate.
"I cannotbreathe!"(p. 36)
Pilate is, of course, unfortunate. Had it not been
for Christ he might have had a successful career
and have been rememberedas a hero. Only Christ
can assure him that the execution he ordered
never happened (p. 401), for in terms of his everyday reality it certainly did happen. Those with
their everydayrealities in Moscow probably would
have acted in a similar way: the Pilate story remains present in the consciousness of men because he is no different from them. All are unprepared for the extraordinary, bound in the narrow
world of their everyday lives which they are unable to govern-which can be changed or terminated by a broken bottle of sunflower oil, by the
necessity for a moral decision, or by a chance
meeting and a bunch of yellow flowers. Man's
whole existence is insecure; it is only because the
spiritual powers are not really malignant that all
turns out well. Those who are aware of this
achieve some measure of immortality; the majority take refuge in a refusal to believe what they
do not understand: thus at the end, the authorities
manage to "explain" everything-and explain
nothing.
The Master, of course, achieves this immor-

1171

tality, and here there is a further parallel with

Christ. For if the Master shares Christ's weakness,
he also shares his strength. "Es handelt sich um
die Rolle des Dichters in der ihn umgebenden
Welt," Efim Etkind maintains.20That the Master
is the creative artist, struggling with both his work
and the conditions of his actual life, is self-evident.
There is, however, a godlike quality in this: it is
the nearest man can approach to the act of creation, and possibly to governing his own life. The
Master has no name, but represents any true
artist. Christ, of course, can be addressed as
"Master" too: indeed the logical conclusion is
that Christ, Faust, and the Master are but different aspects of a single conception.
In the novel, apart from the Master, it is Ivan
who realizes the significanceof the Pilate story. He
is a receptive subject from the start, for he does
not, like most Soviet citizens, deny Christ's
existence, but treats Christ in his poem as a historical figure. His very name, Homeless, implies a
certain alienation from the material world.
Throughout the course of the novel he dwells
more and more on Pilate, until at the end "what
had happened at the Patriarchs' Ponds no longer
interested the poet Ivan Homeless" (p. 349). Pilate
and Christ will never give him rest, he is forced to
the awareness of a second reality. Previously, he
tried to oppose two irreconcilables, a belief in the
supernatural, which he experiences directly, and a
solid belief in the world of every day. The result,
predictably, is schizophrenia, both in the case of
Ivan and in that of the many others who land up
in Stravinsky's clinic. Ivan's schizophrenia is
"cured" by the Master, who removes Ivan's
doubts, and who is himself in the clinic since he
realizes the impossibility of holding two opposing
beliefs. It is for the Master literally a place of
asylum (as it is even today for many Soviet intellectuals). The other characters are "cured" when
they can dismiss their acquaintancewith the supernatural as the work of hypnotists and return to
their earlier-held beliefs. Yet Bulgakov does not
allow his readers to dismiss the supernatural or
forget the Pilate story. Nor is it accidental that the
last words of the book are "the cruel fifth Procurator of Judea, the rider Pontius Pilate"-the
same words with which the Master intended to end
his novel (p. 155).21

Some concept of "God" is, I think, implicit here,

and when all is said and done this remains a profoundly religious book. But it is not necessary to

1172

An Approach to Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita

define "God" in a narrow, traditional sense. Life

is more than superficial appearances: this is perhaps the theme in the broadest possible terms.
Ivan Nikolayevich realizes this, he "knows there
are some things he is powerless to cope with";
even Nikolay Ivanovich realizes it, and regrets his
lost opportunity (pp. 398-400). Bulgakov's message to his reader might perhaps be summarized
in one sentence of Christ's to Pilate: "Your life is
too barren, Hegemon" (p. 24). Satan's function in
Moscow is to remind men of this. He and his
retinue are conceived with a certain logic, with a

certain basis in tradition. But we have fundamentally a devil who has not remained an obsolete creature of the Middle Ages: he has developed
through history and now appears to men in the
twentieth century; men whose human natures,
however, have changed little since the expulsion
from the garden and since the days of the Roman
Empire.

Queen's University
Kingston, Ontario, Canada

Notes
1The respectiveEnglishversionsare: MikhailBulgakov,
The Master and Margarita, trans. Mirra Ginsburg (New

York: Grove, 1967), and Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master

and Margarita,trans. MichaelGlenny (New York: Harper,
1967). For references,all of which are includedin the text,
I have madeuse of the firstof these, as beingthe moreeasily
accessible.The Russian versionconsulted was that printed
in Paris by the YMCA Press, 1968.
2 MicheleColucci,in his "Moralitae poesiain 'I1Maestro
e Margherita,'" Conviuium,36 (1968), 429, points out that
those punished by the devil-not too severely-are hardly
the worst of sinnersbut ratherphilistinesand careerists.
3 Referencesto Faust,to be includedin the text, are from
GoethesWerke,HamburgerAusgabein 14 Banden, 8th ed.
(Hamburg:ChristianWegner, 1967), in.
4 Michael Glenny, "MikhailBulgakov," Survey,No. 65
(Oct. 1967), p. 13.
5See Ernest Jones, On the Nightmare, International
Psycho-AnalyticalLibr., No. 20 (London: L. and Virginia
Woolf at the Hogarth Press and Institute of Psychoanalysis,1931),p. 162. Although strictlya book on psychoanalysis, this is very useful as a general introduction to
demonology in popular tradition. For my discussion of
Satan in the Judeo-Christiantradition,I have also dlawn
extensively on Edward Langton, Essentials of Demonology

(London: Epworth, 1949). References to both works

appearin the text.
6 See A. Vulis, an untitled commentary on the novel,
Moskrva,No. 11 (Nov. 1966), pp. 127-30, and V. Lakshin,
"Roman M. Bulgakova'Masteri Margarita,'" Novyj mir,
44, No. 6 (1968), 284-311.
7 He does the same with populartradition, too. Thus in
the same way that he presents Christ's actual life as different from the Gospel version, which is neverthelessreportedby Pilate (see Colucci, pp. 437-39, for an excellent
discussion of this), he presentsthe "facts" concerningthe
devil as different from popular tradition, which is likewise mentioned in the rumors that circulate. Woland is
"reported"(p. 6) as limping, being either short or enormously tall (gigantic size is popularly attributed to the
devil); in "fact," he did not limp nor was he gigantic, but
simply tall (p. 7). At the ball, of course, he doeslimp.
8
Faust also refersto himself as "Master,"if in the sense

however of the holder of an academic degree: "Heitie

Magister,heii3eDoktor gar" (1. 360).
9 See Vulis, p. 129, and [HenricusInstitoris and Jakob
Sprenger] Malleus Maleficarum, trans. Rev. Montague

Summers(London: J. Rodker, 1928),p. 30.

10 The devil himselfis sometimesportrayedas a jester, of
course.In Russian,the word for joker is used as an alternative for "devil" in colloquial expressions: Chert s nlimor
Shut s nim.

11It is temptingto extendthe parallel:Azazello/Mephistopheles would become the unholy Christ, as suggested
above, and Behemoth the Unholy Ghost-an idea not
without a certaincharm!
121I have been tempted to consider the similaritiesbetween "Fagot" and "Faust."By a mixture of Cyrillicand
Roman handwriting,such as can sometimes occur accidentally,and a considerablestretchof the imagination,it is
possible to show that "Fagot" is derived from "Faust."
ElisabethStenbock-Fermor(in her "Bulgakov'sTheMaster
and Margarita and Goethe's Faust," SEEJ, 13, 1969, 312)

makes a good case, however,for Fagot being the reincarnation of Faust, although she does not make the equation
Azazello/Mephistopheles.
13Cf. The Interpreter's Bible, ed. George Arthur Buttrick

et al. (New York: Abington, 1951),xi, 434.

14 Not, of course, from "hell," which in Russian is a different word entirely.
15 Cf. Jones, pp. 202-07, for this and the following.
16 Colucci is good on this, pp. 437-41.
'7 The Interpreter's Bible, vII, 629.
18 See A. Altschuler, "Der ProsaschriftstellerMichail

Bulgakow," Kunst undLiteratur, 16 (1968), 622.

'19See on this L. Rzhevsky, "Pilatov grekh: O tajnopisi
v romane M. Bulgakova 'Master i Margarita,'" Novyj
Zhurnal,No. 90 (March 1968), pp. 68-69, 76. Rzhevsky,
too, is good on the comparisonof Ancient Jerusalemand
ModernMoscow. (A translationof this articlealso appears

in Canadian Slavonic Papers, 13, No. 1, 1971, 1-19.)

20 "Manuskripte brennen nicht: JUberMichail Bulgakow," Akzente,15, No. 4 (1968), 323.
21Exceptfor the addition of the word "cruel."The variant "horseman"for "rider"on p. 155 is an inconsistency
of the translation.