In July 1929 M.A. Bulgakov addresses “General Secretary of the Party I.V. Stalin, Chairman of the Ts.I. Committee M.I. Kalinin, Head of the Main Art Department A.I. Svidersky, Alexei Maksimovich Gorky" with a STATEMENT in which he writes that - "not being able to exist any longer, hunted, knowing that he could no longer be published or staged within the USSR," and "brought to a nervous breakdown," he appeals to all the above-mentioned persons (and in essence, of course, to Stalin) with a request - “ON EXILE ME OUTSIDE THE USSR TOGETHER WITH MY WIFE L.E. BULGAKOVA, who joins this petition.”
On July 30 of the same year, the head of the Main Art Department of the RSFSR A.I. Svidersky reports to the Secretary of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party of Bolsheviks A.P. Smirnov about his meeting and long conversation with Bulgakov. He reports that he gave him the impression of a hunted and doomed man, and even not quite healthy nervously. According to his impression, Bulgakov wants, in any case, is ready to cooperate with the Soviet government, but he “is not given or helped in this.” Under such conditions, he believes that the writer’s request to expel him and his wife from the country is fair and should be satisfied.
On August 3 of the same year, Secretary of the Central Committee A.P. Smirnov forwards Bulgakov’s statement and Svidersky’s letter to Molotov and asks that they be sent to members and candidates of the Politburo. At the same time, he himself speaks out in the sense that the attitude towards Bulgakov needs to be changed. Not to poison him, but to “drag him to our side.” As for the writer’s request to send him abroad, it must be rejected, since “letting him go abroad with such sentiments means increasing the number of enemies.”
On March 28, 1930, Bulgakov, without waiting for any response to his “Statement,” writes a heartbreaking message to the “Government of the USSR” (essentially, of course, to Stalin), in which he writes:
“I appeal to the humanity of the Soviet government and ask me, a writer who cannot be useful in his own country, to be generously released.
On April 14 - that is, two weeks after he sent this letter - Mayakovsky shot himself.
Stalin calls Bulgakov on the 18th - the day after the funeral of the poet who committed suicide.
There can be no doubt that there is a direct connection between these two events.
After Mayakovsky's suicide, which shocked the country and the world, Stalin only needed another suicide of a famous writer driven to despair.
The goal that Stalin wanted to achieve with this call is obvious. It was necessary to calm down the playwright, who was in an unhealthy nervous state, to somehow defuse the situation - if not resolve it, then at least soften it.
Stalin could not resolve this situation, that is, untie this tragic knot. After all, there were only two ways to untie it.
“I ask you to take into account that the inability to write is tantamount to being buried alive for me,” Bulgakov wrote in his letter.
The same thing - word for word - a year later Zamyatin would write to him: ... sentenced to capital punishment - the author of this letter turns to you with a request to replace this measure with another.
The inability to write and publish for an artist is death. There can only be one alternative to this capital punishment: deportation abroad.
But Stalin could not give the order to publish Bulgakov and stage his plays. (A little later about why he couldn’t.) And why he couldn’t satisfy his request for expulsion from the USSR, we already know: “Releasing him abroad with such sentiments means increasing the number of enemies.”
What could he do in this situation?
There is only one thing: to accept the option that Bulgakov himself proposed to him in his letter:
I ask to be appointed as a laboratory assistant-director at the 1st Art Theater - in the best school, headed by masters K.S. Stanislavsky and V.I. Nemirovich-Danchenko.
If I am not appointed director, I am applying for a full-time position as an extra. If being an extra isn’t an option, I’m applying for the position of stagehand.
If this is also impossible, I ask the Soviet Government to deal with me as it sees fit, but to do it somehow, because I, a playwright who has written 5 plays, known in the USSR and abroad, have, AT THIS MOMENT, - poverty, street and death.
It was hysterical. Or, if you like, a metaphor. He did not seriously propose to appoint himself to the position of an extra or stagehand.
Hearing Stalin’s first phrase: “We have received your letter... You will have a favorable response to it,” he was filled with hope.
There could only be one favorable answer for him: the lifting of the ban on his plays. That is, the abolition of “capital punishment”. Or, as a last resort, replacing this “ultimate measure” with another: deportation abroad.
Stalin hinted at this alternative version of the “favorable answer” with his next phrase: “Or maybe it’s true - you’re asking to go abroad? Are you really tired of us?”
Encouraged by the leader’s assurance that the response to his letter would be favorable, that is, hoping for the lifting of the ban on his plays,
Bulgakov answers:
— I’ve been thinking a lot lately about whether a Russian writer can live outside his homeland. And it seems to me that he cannot.
The leader liked the answer:
- You're right. I think so too.
Here you go! God bless! Now, then, this favorable answer promised to him will follow.”
And then - like a tub cold water on the head:
—Where do you want to work? At the Art Theater?
Discouraged Bulgakov mumbles:
- Yes, I would like to... But they...
The death sentence has not been cancelled. And he himself just refused to replace the “capital punishment” with deportation abroad.
What, then, is this “favorable answer” promised to him? Only that they won’t let you die of hunger?
It was a complete disaster.
In response to his heartbreaking letter, Bulgakov, in essence, RECEIVED NOTHING.
It would seem that here it’s time to fall into complete despair. But contrary to logic and common sense, this conversation with Stalin not only did not weaken, but even strengthened his hopes for a favorable solution to his fate as a writer.
A year later (in July 1931) he writes to Veresaev:
The citizen had plays on, well, they were filmed, and what was the matter? Why will this citizen, Sidor, Pyotr or Ivan, write to the All-Russian Central Executive Committee and the People's Commissariat for Education, and everywhere all sorts of statements, petitions, and even about foreign countries?! What will happen to him for this? Nothing will happen. Neither bad nor good. There simply won't be an answer. Both correct and reasonable. For if you start responding to all the Sidors, you will get a complete Babylonian pandemonium.
Here is the theory, Vikenty Vikentievich! But she’s the only one who’s no good. Because at the very time of despair, having broken it, fortunately, the Secretary General called me more than a year ago. Trust my taste: he spoke forcefully, clearly, stately and elegantly. Hope was kindled in the writer’s heart: there was only one step left - to see him and find out his fate. (M. Bulgakov. Collected works in five volumes. Volume five. M. 1990. pp. 461-462)
A telephone conversation between Mikhail Bulgakov and Joseph Stalin took place on April 18, 1930. And he was summoned by a letter from the writer to the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party of Bolsheviks. This letter became a cry from the soul of the writer, who in 1929-30 was not allowed to stage a single play and was not allowed to publish a single line.
In that letter to the government of the USSR, dated March 28, 1930, Mikhail Bulgakov, talking about his situation, wrote: “now I am destroyed,” “my things are hopeless,” “the inability to write is tantamount to being buried alive for me.” Quoting devastating reviews of his works, he defended himself:
“I prove with documents in hand that the entire press of the USSR, and with it all the institutions that received control of the repertoire, during all the years of my literary work unanimously and with extraordinary fury proved that the works of Mikhail Bulgakov cannot exist in the USSR.
And I declare that the USSR press is absolutely right...
The fight against censorship, whatever it may be and under whatever government it exists, is my duty as a writer...
And, finally, my last features in the ruined plays "Days of the Turbins", "Running" and in the novel " White Guard": persistent portrayal of the Russian intelligentsia as the best layer in our country... Such an image is quite natural for a writer who is closely connected with the intelligentsia.
But this kind of images lead to the fact that their author in the USSR, along with his heroes, receives - despite his great efforts to become dispassionately above the Reds and Whites - a certificate of a White Guard, an enemy, and, having received it, as everyone understands, he can consider himself a complete man in the USSR...
I ask the government of the USSR to order me to urgently leave the USSR, accompanied by my wife Lyubov Evgenievna Bulgakova.
I appeal to the humanity of the Soviet government and ask me, a writer who cannot be useful in his own country, to be generously released..."
And after such a cry from the heart, on April 18, 1930, at about 7 p.m., a telephone rang in Mikhail Bulgakov’s apartment. His wife Lyubov Bulgakova (Belozerskaya) answered the phone. Hearing that the call was from the Central Committee, she called her husband. Bulgakov considered this a joke, so he went up to the phone, irritated.
Secretary: Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov?
Bulgakov: Yes, yes.
Secretary: Comrade Stalin will speak to you now.
Bulgakov: What? Stalin?
...2-3 minutes passed...
Stalin: Stalin is speaking to you. Hello, Comrade Bulgakov.
Bulgakov: Hello, Joseph Vissarionovich.
Stalin: We have received your letter. Read with friends. You will have a favorable response to it... Or maybe it’s true - are you asking to go abroad? What, are you really tired of us?
Bulgakov (confused and not immediately): ...I've been thinking a lot lately - whether a Russian writer can live outside his homeland. And it seems to me that he cannot.
Stalin: You are right. I think so too. Where do you want to work? At the Art Theater?
Bulgakov: Yes, I would like to. But I spoke about it, and they refused.
Stalin: And you submit an application there. It seems to me that they will agree. We would like to meet and talk with you.
Bulgakov: Yes, yes! Joseph Vissarionovich, I really need to talk to you.
Stalin: Yes, we need to find time and meet, definitely. And now I wish you all the best.
Bulgakov's meeting with Stalin never took place. But on April 19, 1930, Bulgakov was enrolled as an assistant director at the Moscow Art Theater. And he also got a job at TRAM (Theater of Working Youth). However, the plays were never staged.
On May 30, 1931, in another letter to Stalin, Bulgakov wrote:
“Since the end of 1930 I have been suffering from a severe form of neurasthenia with attacks of fear and pre-heart melancholy, and at present I am finished.
I have ideas, but I don’t have the physical strength, there are no conditions necessary to do the work. The cause of my illness is clearly known to me.
In the wide field of Russian literature in the USSR, I was the only literary wolf. I was advised to dye the skin. Ridiculous advice. Whether a wolf is dyed or shorn, it still does not look like a poodle. They treated me like a wolf. And for several years they persecuted me according to the rules of a literary cage in a fenced yard. I have no malice, but I am very tired. After all, even an animal can get tired.
The beast declared that he was no longer a wolf, no longer a writer. Refuses his profession. He falls silent. This is, frankly, cowardice.
There is no writer who can shut up. If he fell silent, it means he wasn’t real. And if the real one is silent, he will die."
True, Stalin visited the production of Bulgakov’s play “Zoyka’s Apartment” twice, noting: “ Nice play! I don’t understand, I don’t understand at all, why they either allow it or ban it. It’s a good play, I don’t see anything bad.” And in February 1932, Stalin, having watched Afinogenov’s play “Fear”, which he did not like, said to the theater representatives: “You had a good play “Days of the Turbins” - why isn’t it performing?... It’s a good play, it needs to be staged, stage it.” An order followed to restore the production.
In addition to the restored "Days of the Turbins" at the Moscow Art Theater there was a long-awaited production of his play "The Cabal of the Saint" (which was soon removed from the repertoire). Dramatized by Bulgakov is allowed to be staged" Dead Souls".
But all this time, Bulgakov was looking for a meeting with Stalin, hoping to explain his position and understand his position through dialogue. In one letter, he even asked Stalin to “become my first reader.” But there are no more contacts with the leader.
In 1934, the Bulgakovs were summoned to the city executive committee to fill out papers to leave the USSR. Bulgakov is delighted and believes that the imprisonment is over and “That means I will see the light!” But a few days later he receives an official refusal.
And Bulgakov again writes a letter to Stalin personally asking for intercession.
No answer.
In 1938, Bulgakov, in another letter to Stalin, stood up for the poet and playwright Nikolai Robertovich Erdman, who was not allowed to return to Moscow after exile to Siberia.
No answer.
In 1939, Bulgakov was given the position of librettist in Bolshoi Theater, where he works as a translator. And once at the play “Ivan Susanin” Bulgakov saw Stalin in the box. But Stalin did not pay attention to him
Friends advise Bulgakov: “Write a propaganda play... How long can this go on? We must give up, everyone has given up. You are the only one left. This is stupid.” And Bulgakov is trying to take a step forward - he writes the play “Batum” about the young Joseph Dzhugashvili. But the attempt fails.
When Bulgakov with the director and actors participating in the production of "Batum" go to Georgia to get acquainted with historical places, a telegram was delivered to the train, in which it was reported that “there is no need for the trip, return to Moscow.”
It turns out that Stalin, during a visit to the Moscow Art Theater, told Nemirovich-Danchenko that “he considered the play “Batum” to be very good, but “it cannot be staged.”
“Lucy,” Bulgakov told his wife then, “he signed my death warrant.”
In October 1939, a desperate Bulgakov wrote his will. He's already sick. Colleagues and acquaintances wrote a letter to the government asking to release Bulgakov to Italy for treatment.
No answer.
On the same day, a bell rang in his apartment. Called from Stalin's secretariat:
Secretary: What, Comrade Bulgakov died?
L. Bulgakova: Yes, he died.
They hung up on the other end of the line.
There is much more in common between Stalin and Bulgakov than it seems at first glance. Bulgakov's hero is a superman, striving for absolute knowledge, which gives superhuman power, for the sake of which he does not mind sacrificing the whole world. “Ordinary”/“simple” people with their “ordinary” life for Bulgakov are dust, meaningless garbage, described with undisguised disgust and evil humor in any of his works. Stalin, who came as close as possible to the absolute power, could not help but evoke Bulgakov’s sincere, deep admiration. The principle “they cut down the forest, the chips fly,” which guided Stalin’s policy, was elevated by Bulgakov to a philosophical absolute in his works.
For a writer, philosopher and mystic who believes that he has hidden knowledge about the world, accessible only to initiates, as Bulgakov was, it is quite natural to want to become close to the ruler, to share with him his secret knowledge, to enlighten and guide him.
It is quite plausible that in the dialogue between Pontius Pilate and Yeshua, Bulgakov reflected (among other things) his relationship with Stalin and especially his innermost dreams about what he wanted to see this relationship ideally. Bulgakov saw himself in the role of an adviser to an enlightened tyrant and was ready to offer his services to Stalin. In one of his letters, Bulgakov wrote to Stalin: “But, finishing the letter, I want to tell you, Joseph Vissarionovich, that My dream as a writer is to be called personally to you".
And this is what Yeshua says to Pilate: “I would advise you, hegemon, to leave the palace for a while and take a walk somewhere in the surrounding area, or at least in the gardens on the Mount of Olives. The thunderstorm will begin,” the prisoner turned and squinted into the sun, “later, in the evening.” A walk would be of great benefit to you, and I would be happy to accompany you. Some new thoughts have come to my mind that might, I think, seem interesting to you, and I would be happy to share them with you, especially since you give the impression of a very smart person.”
Alas, the union did not take place, since Stalin was not interested in Bulgakov either as a writer or as a partner in philosophical dialogue. Stalin turned out to be amazingly short-sighted on this issue. IN historical memory such a union would certainly significantly improve his image. A truly smart ruler wants glory not only during life, but also centuries after death, like Octavian, Trajan, or Queen Tamara. But Stalin did not understand that Bulgakov - greatest writer of those living during his reign and his works will live on for centuries. In contrast to the works of many of the mediocrities favored by him.
Of course, Stalin's big mistake was that he did not understand and did not appreciate these ideas of Bulgakov. He was sung by all sorts of court sycophants, the “Mikhalkovs,” but who cares now, who will read them now? But if Bulgakov had captured it, that would have been a yes. But alas, Stalin was not interested in Bulgakov.
Smart rulers always care about what image of them will be created in culture and will, accordingly, live for centuries. Good example in this sense - Octavian Augustus, who contributed to the flourishing of Roman culture, patronized poets and they did not forget to remember him kind words. The Roman state has long since passed away; Octavian’s political and military victories occupy mainly historians, but all educated humanity remembers the golden age of Roman literature that came during his reign (Titus Livy, Virgil, Horace, Ovid, etc.). Trajan acted similarly, during whose reign the activities of Tacitus and Pliny the Younger flourished. Queen Tamara understood the significance of the work of Rustaveli, who glorified her for centuries. One can only regret that Stalin did not understand the significance of Bulgakov.
Although... Who knows, maybe right now Bulgakov and Stalin are walking along the lunar road, talking passionately about something, arguing, wanting to agree on something...
UPD. In the comments to this post on Facebook, they remembered Stalin’s answer to Bil-Belotserkovsky, his love for the play “Days of the Turbins,” and his help with the organization of the Moscow Art Theater. However, it is difficult to consider the description of Bulgakov’s work that Stalin gave in the aforementioned answer (“In the absence of fish ... fish”) as a proper assessment of Bulgakov’s work. Indeed, it is impossible to say that Stalin did not appreciate Bulgakov at all, but it is quite possible to say that he clearly did not appreciate him enough. Stalin never invited Bulgakov to meet him, let alone, as Bulgakov dreamed of, making him his confidant. Perhaps Stalin was simply afraid that his friendship with Bulgakov would be “misunderstood,” that is, in essence, he acted like Bulgakov’s Pontius Pilate with Yeshua. Perhaps Stalin understood everything and simply did not want to enter into a conversation with Bulgakov on the lunar road, because... Having gotten used to giving orders, he simply no longer wanted an equal partner (and Bulgakov offered him precisely a conversation between equals). In general, there can be many explanations, but be that as it may, Bulgakov’s dream of the union of the bearer of the absolute of Knowledge and the bearer of the absolute of Power did not take place. And it did not take place precisely because of Stalin’s reluctance.