The Master and Margarita

“There is no devil!”

Ivan insists that “there is no devil” (34). His statement will prove to be very wrong as the novel unfolds, but the fervor with which Ivan makes this statement is telling. Ivan is a self-confessed atheist who does not believe in God or the devil. Despite the growing evidence around him, however, he continues to decry the spiritual or the supernatural. Ivan makes a statement with almost religious fervor, showing that his atheism is hollow and cannot accommodate evidence. Instead, he is religious in his disbelief.

“He was coming to realize and to acknowledge that he could not rectify anything in his life, he could only forget.”

The writers gathered in Moscow are beginning to feel a helplessness about their situation. They lack agency or investment in their society, in which overbearing authoritarianism prevents them from writing what they please. Without the ability to write, they lack the ability to change the world. Instead, they only power they feel they have is to forget. The ability and the opportunity to forget is a powerful privilege but one only available when no other agency is available.

“All sorts of stories can be told! Not all of them have to be believed.”

Many different types of stories are told in The Master and Margarita. Woland’s memories, the Master’s stories, and Ivan’s poems provide different perspectives on Pontius Pilate while the salacious gossip and supernatural tricks in contemporary Moscow show the ways in which reality bends to the needs of the storyteller. Belief and subjectivity go hand in hand, and the audience believes the most convenient or convincing story told to them.

“The poet’s attempts to compose a report on the terrible consultant had come to nothing.”

Ivan is a limited man. Beyond the scope of his much-maligned poetry, he has very little skill with which he can effect meaningful change on the world. The experience in the asylum reveals to him the limits of his power and shows him how he is essentially useless.

“Don’t write anymore!”

The Master has his own troubled history with writing. He does not try to convince Ivan not to write because he hates Ivan’s poetry (though plenty of people share this sentiment). He has experienced how even good writing can be manipulated by a cynical society. After being crushed by his rivals, the Master does not want anyone to suffer as he did. Making Ivan promise not to write is a way to protect Ivan from a similar fate.

“Go home now, and may the hell that your wife is preparing for you be your punishment.”

As Satan, Woland is typically considered to be in charge of all things involving hell and punishment. However, he is not nearly as inventive or as vindictive as humans. Humans are capable of creating their own private hells that are far more effective and punishing than anything Woland imposes on anyone. Woland is blamed for trapping people in hell when many people trap themselves or others in hells of their own creation.

“When the woman turned around to get it, he silently and quickly grabbed from the counter a long, razor-sharp bread knife, ideal for his purposes, and bolted out of the shop.”

Levi’s complicated story puts him in strange moral positions. With Yeshua about to be executed, Levi wants to perform an act of mercy. In this particular circumstance, stealing a knife to murder the son of God becomes the debatably moral position. The nature of sin and immorality is fluid and open to interpretation. To perform a good deed, Levi is considering breaking a number of the ten commandments. He wants to steal, murder, and blaspheme for a good cause.

“Behind the huge desk with its massive inkwell sat an empty suit, moving a pen with no ink in it.”

The trick in which a bureaucrat is turned into an empty suit is a stinging satire of the society. The ghostly suit is a metaphor for the ineffective bureaucracy of the society, in which hollowed out individuals enjoy the privileges of their position (large desk, availability of resources) while contributing nothing. The bureaucracy is a hollow, ghostly system of privilege and abuse that achieves nothing but succeeds in terrifying people.

“Even I, a truthful narrator, but a detached observer nonetheless, feel my heart contract when I think of what Margarita went through.”

Throughout the novel, narrators and writers can never be entirely trusted. The Master, Ivan, and other writers can only offer subjective interpretations of events they did not witness firsthand while those who do witness events (such as the supernatural tricks of Woland’s retinue) always search for reasonable explanations that may not be true. There is no such thing as a truly trustworthy, objective narrator in The Master and Margarita, including the narrator of the main narrative itself. The narrator admits as much, empathizing with Margarita’s plight and siding with her in an emotional sense even as she makes a deal with the devil.

“I can’t tell you how sick and tired I am of all of you, and how happy I am to be leaving you!”

Woland’s influence on the people he meets is freeing. Margarita now feels that she is no longer as trapped and bound by society. She does not need to adhere to polite protocol or accept boorish, loutish behavior from her neighbors because of social expectation. Woland’s presence in her life empowers her to speak truth she would normally keep hidden, and it and frees her from restrictive, damaging social conventions.

“Once upon a time there was a lady. She had no children, and no happiness either. And at first she cried for a long time, but then she became wicked...”

Margarita frames the story of her life as a dark fairy tale. She tells the story to a young boy to comfort him, but the implications of her story are far from comforting. In her story, she has no children and no happiness, so she makes a deal with the devil. In a reversal of the traditional story of Faust, however, Margarita is not punished for dealing with the devil. Instead, she is freed. The story might seem chilling to the boy, but, as will eventually be revealed, Margarita’s dark fairy tale has a positive ending.

“Who the hell is going to butcher him and what the devil for? Just let him sit with the cooks for a while, that is all.”

Margarita is aware of Woland’s true identity, and this knowledge informs all her interactions with him. When he tells his followers to take someone away, she assumes they will be tortured and killed. Woland delights in these assumptions and takes pleasure in playing with people’s expectations. The level of ambient violence in his presence is constant; everyone is in danger and could make a fatal mistake based on Woland’s mood. The innate threat is a reminder of the true nature of his character, even when he masks his threat with charm.

“However, one theory is as good as another.”

Woland’s performance at the ball has two significant implications. The first is to remind the audience Woland can be as petty and as spiteful as his reputation might suggest, which is demonstrated by him mocking the severed head of a dead man. The second is to reinforce the idea of there being no such thing as an objective version of the truth. Instead, there are only competing theories that intersect and overlap to become people’s experiences of the truth via a composite of all these theories. None of the theories, Woland admits, are inherently or objectively true.

“No documents, no person.”

In another satire of the bureaucracy of the society, characters are forced to define themselves by the availability of documents. To the characters, not having documents is the same as not being a real person. Even if they are talking to a person or interacting with them in another way, the person’s existence needs an administrative confirmation. The absurdity of the idea mocks the bureaucracy of the state while the genuine fear of the characters regarding this subject hints at the tragic violence of defining people through paperwork alone.

“It’s these holidays—magicians, sorcerers, wizards, these hoards of pilgrims… Fanatics, fanatics!”

Pilate criticizes the “magicians, sorcerers, wizards” (228) of the city, but he knows Yeshua is different somehow. During their brief interaction, Pilate became fascinated by Yeshua. This fascination deepens his loathing for the others, who occupy a similar role in society but lack anything substantive to say. Pilate’s sympathy for Yeshua makes him all the more critical of the other magicians or preachers, hinting at how Yeshua will eventually play an important role in the history of the world.

“I’m filthy, I’ll soil it.”

Levi did not kill Yeshua, nor did he betray him. However, he blames himself for Yeshua’s death, just as much as he blames Pilate or Judas. He views himself as a filthy man, someone whose existence has been soiled by his actions, and he does not want to spread this filthiness to anyone else. He is terrified of causing more damage. Levi’s self-loathing is so intense that, when Pilate invites him to sit, he refuses because he fears he will ruin the chair of a man he already loathes.

“The poems I wrote were bad poems, and I realize that now.”

Ivan has changed his perception of himself, his work, and his world. His experience with Woland and the Master has shown to him that he cannot continue to produce the same writing. Ivan realizes the world around him is not what he once thought it was; he can no longer be an atheist in a world where he has met the devil and experienced the supernatural firsthand. As such, Ivan cannot produce the same poems because he is not the same person.

“One can expect astonishing things from the seedbeds of this house, under whose roof have gathered thousands of devotees selflessly resolved to dedicate their lives to serving Melpomene, Polyhymnia, and Thalia.”

The residents of the literary societies in Russia proclaim themselves to be atheists, but the way they talk about themselves has distinctly religious overtones. They compare themselves to worshipers in a church or even to the figures being worshipped. The irony of atheists comparing themselves to religious institutions reveals the inherent hypocrisy in the society.

“Woland sat hunched on the taboret, staring fixedly at the vast assortment of huge buildings, palaces, and shacks condemned to destruction.”

Woland is Satan. To many people, he is the embodiment of evil. When he looks out over Moscow, however, the novel presents a contrast between the physical embodiment of evil and the evils of the society. In an irreligious society that claims to be bringing about greater equality, Woland can still stare at the palaces next to buildings that are condemned to destruction. Poverty and inequality still exist, as does he. No matter the stories the society tells itself, the issues remain.

“He has not earned light, he has earned peace.”

When the Master and Margarita are sent to the cottage, they are not going to heaven. Neither are they going to hell. Heaven is not explicitly mentioned. Instead, it is referred to as “light” (269). As such, the novel creates a distinction between light and peace. After death a person can achieve peace without heaven. The fate of the Master and Margarita suggests that peace can exist outside of the traditional boundaries of religion and outside of dichotomies, such as good and evil, heaven and hell, and light and dark.

“I’m not afraid because I’ve already been through everything.”

The Master has already lost everything over the course of his life. He has lost his professional reputation, his sanity, and the woman he loves. As a result of this, he no longer feels fear. The Master transcends ideas of bravery or fear because he has already endured everything he could ever endure and emerged on the other side.

“He began to listen carefully and pay close attention to everything that was happening in his soul. His excitement, it seemed to him, had turned into a feeling of deep and deadly resentment. But it was short-lived, it passed, and gave way for some reason to a feeling of proud indifference, which, in turn, became a presentiment of permanent peace.”

As the Master rides with Woland and his retinue, he looks back over Moscow. The complexity of his emotion becomes increasingly profound. Just as he leaves behind the city of his birth, he leaves behind his resentment and his bitterness. His difficulties in life were fleeting and he can now spend eternity with the woman he loves. The Master’s journey teaches him to appreciate the true scope of existence, thereby conferring on him a sense of “permanent peace” (281).

“Everything will be made right, that is what the world is built on.”

Woland assures Margarita that “everything will be made right” (286). However, the novel has illustrated that broad sweeping statements that allude to a single objective truth are nonsense. Instead, the world is built on different perspectives that compete to become accepted as reality. Some things will be made right for some people, but the idea of right will be based purely on their perspective. More importantly, the idea of right will be based on Woland’s perspective. In reality, the world is built on these competing perspectives.