According to Kinbote (in VN's novel Pale Fire, 1962, Shade’s mad commentator who imagines that he is Charles the Beloved, the last self-exiled king of Zembla), Judge Goldsworth (Kinbote’s landlord) resembles a Medusa-locked hag:
In the Foreword to this work I have had occasion to say something about the amenities of my habitation. The charming, charmingly vague lady (see note to line 691), who secured it for me, sight unseen, meant well, no doubt, especially since it was widely admired in the neighborhood for its "old-world spaciousness and graciousness." Actually, it was an old, dismal, white-and-black, half-timbered house, of the type termed wodnaggen in my country, with carved gables, drafty bow windows and a so-called "semi-noble" porch, surmounted by a hideous veranda. Judge Goldsworth had a wife, and four daughters. Family photographs met me in the hallway and pursued me from room to room, and although I am sure that Alphina (9), Betty (10), Candida (12), and Dee (14) will soon change from horribly cute little schoolgirls to smart young ladies and superior mothers, I must confess that their pert pictures irritated me to such an extent that finally I gathered them one by one and dumped them all in a closet under the gallows row of their cellophane-shrouded winter clothes. In the study I found a large picture of their parents, with sexes reversed, Mrs. G. resembling Malenkov, and Mr. G. a Medusa-locked hag, and this I replaced by the reproduction of a beloved early Picasso: earth boy leading raincloud horse. (note to Lines 47-48)
In a conversation at the Faculty Club Professor Pardon says that the slapdash disheveled hag who ladles out the mash in the Levin Hall cafeteria (and whom Shade has been said to resemble) looks like Judge Goldsworth:
Shade [smiling and massaging my knee]: "Kings do not die--they only disappear, eh, Charles?"
"Who said that?" asked sharply, as if coming out of a trance, the ignorant, and always suspicious, Head of the English Department.
"Take my own case," continued my dear friend ignoring Mr. H. "I have been said to resemble at least four people: Samuel Johnson; the lovingly reconstructed ancestor of man in the Exton Museum; and two local characters, one being the slapdash disheveled hag who ladles out the mash in the Levin Hall cafeteria."
"The third in the witch row," I precised quaintly, and everybody laughed.
"I would rather say," remarked Mr. Pardon--American History--"that she looks like Judge Goldsworth" ("One of us," interposed Shade inclining his head), "especially when he is real mad at the whole world after a good dinner." (note to Line 894)
If Shade resembles a woman who looks like Judge Goldsworth, there must be a resemblance between Shade and Judge Goldsworth. In Canto Two of his poem Shade speaks of his dead daughter (who, according to Kinbote, resembled him in certain respect) and says that nature chose him as a model of her looks:
She might have been you, me, or some quaint blend:
Nature chose me so as to wrench and rend
Your heart and mine. At first we'd smile and say:
"All little girls are plump" or "Jim McVey
(The family oculist) will cure that slight
Squint in no time." And later: "She'll be quite
Pretty, you know"; and trying to assuage
The swelling torment: "That's the awkward age."
"She should take riding lessons," you would say
(Your eyes and mine not meeting). "She should play
Tennis, or badminton. Less starch, more fruit
She may not be a beauty, but she's cute." (ll. 293-304)
“A Medusa-locked hag” and Judge Goldsworth bring to mind Edusa Gold, in VN’s novel Lolita (1955) the director of The Enchanted Hunters (a play written by Clare Quilty in collaboration with Vivian Darkbloom). Colias edusa is an obsolete name of the Clouded Yellow butterfly (Colias crocea). Edusa Gold's sister Electra (another entomological name) is a marvelous young tennis coach. In the Russian version (1967) of Lolita Gumbert Gumbert describes a game of tennis played by Lolita and says that he hates tyapdalyapitsu poshlykh sapozhnikov (the chops and jabs of cheap bunglers):
Меня разбирала жажда; я направился к фонтанчику питьевой воды. Этим воспользовался рыжий, чтобы подойти ко мне и в скромных выражениях предложить игру вчетвером. «Меня зовут Билль Мид», сказал он, «а это, Фэй Пэйдж, актриска. «Ма фиансэ» — добавил он (указывая своей нелепо забронированной ракетой на светскую Фэй, уже болтавшую с Лолитой). Я начал было отвечать: «Спасибо, но» — (ненавижу, когда мою чистокровку впутывают в тяпдаляпицу пошлых сапожников), когда меня отвлёк поразительно музыкальный оклик: отельный казачек дробно бежал вниз по ступеням к нашей площадке и делал мне знаки. Оказалось, что меня требуют к телефону по экстренному иногороднему вызову, — столь экстренному, что для меня даже «держат линию». «Иду», сказал я, схватил пиджак (тяжесть кольта во внутреннем кармане) и сказал Лолите, что сейчас вернусь. Она как раз подбирала мячик (европейским способом, т. е. соединенным рывком носка ноги и края ракеты, что было одной из немногих хороших вещей, которым я её научил) и улыбнулась, — она улыбнулась мне!
I felt thirsty by then, and walked to the drinking fountain; there Red approached me and in all humility suggested a mixed double. “I am Bill Mead,” he said. “And that’s Fay Page, actress. Maffy on Say,” he added (pointing with his ridiculously hooded racket at polished Fay who was already talking to Dolly). I was about to reply “Sorry, but” (for I hate to have my filly involved in the chops and jabs of cheap bunglers), when a remarkably melodious cry diverted my attention: a bellboy was tripping down the steps from the hotel to our court and making me signs. I was wanted, if you please, on an urgent long distance call - so urgent in fact that the line was being held for me. Certainly. I got into my coat (inside pocket heavy with pistol) and told Lo I would be back in a minute. She was picking up a ball - in the continental foot-racket way which was one of the few nice things I had taught her, - and smiled - she smiled at me! (2.20)
VN’s neologism tyapdalyapitsa seems to hint at Judge Lyapkin-Tyapkin (Mr. SlapDash), a character in Gogol’s play Revizor (“The Inspector,” 1836). In Gogol’s play Zemlyanika tells Khlestakov that Dobchinsky’s children (one of them was born before his mother married Dobchinsky) have a very strong likeness to the Judge:
Артемий Филипович. Очень может быть. (Помолчав.) Могу сказать, что не жалею ничего и ревностно исполняю службу. (Придвигается ближе с своим стулом и говорит вполголоса.) Вот здешний почтмейстер совершенно ничего не делает: все дела в большом запущении, посылки задерживаются… извольте сами нарочно разыскать. Судья тоже, который только что был пред моим приходом, ездит только за зайцами, в присутственных местах держит собак, и поведения, если признаться пред вами, конечно для пользы отечества, я должен это сделать, хотя он мне родня и приятель, поведения самого предосудительного: здесь есть один помещик Добчинский, которого вы изволили видеть, и как только этот Добчинский куда-нибудь выйдет из дому, то он там уж и сидит у жены его, я присягнуть готов… и нарочно посмотрите на детей: ни одно из них не похоже на Добчинского, но все, даже девочка маленькая, как вылитый судья.
Хлестаков. Скажите пожалуйста! А я никак этого не думал.
CHARITY COMMISSIONER. It's very possible. (After a short silence.) I can only say that I spare no effort to perform my duty zealously. (Draws his chair a little closer and speaks in a lower tone.) There's this Postmaster here does absolutely nothing. Everything is in the greatest state of neglect : letters and packages are kept back . . . pray investigate the matter yourself. The Judge too, who was here just before me, does nothing but hunt hares, and keeps his dogs in the County Court buildings ; while his general conduct, if I must unburden my mind to you—certainly it's for my country's good that I have to do it, though he's my friend and connection—well, his conduct is most deplorable. There's a certain proprietor here, Dobchinsky by name you have deigned to meet him and as soon as ever Dobchinsky goes away anywhere, his wife and the Judge are having a tête-à-tête. I am ready to swear to it ... and the children, down to the youngest little girl, have a very strong likeness to the Judge—
KHLESTAKOV. Well, I declare! I never should have thought it! (Act Four, scene VI)
At the end of his Commentary Kinbote mentions "a bigger, more respectable, more competent Gradus" whom he will face sooner or later:
"And you, what will you be doing with yourself, poor King, poor Kinbote?" a gentle young voice may inquire.
God will help me, I trust, to rid myself of any desire to follow the example of the other two characters in this work. I shall continue to exist. I may assume other disguises, other forms, but I shall try to exist. I may turn up yet, on another campus, as an old, happy, health heterosexual Russian, a writer in exile, sans fame, sans future, sans audience, sans anything but his art. I may join forces with Odon in a new motion picture: Escape from Zembla (ball in the palace, bomb in the palace square). I may pander to the simple tastes of theatrical critics and cook up a stage play, an old-fashioned melodrama with three principles: a lunatic who intends to kill an imaginary king, another lunatic who imagines himself to be that king, and a distinguished old poet who stumbles by chance into the line of fire, and perishes in the clash between the two figments. Oh, I may do many things! History permitting, I may sail back to my recovered kingdom, and with a great sob greet the gray coastline and the gleam of a roof in the rain. I may huddle and groan in a madhouse. But whatever happens, wherever the scene is laid, somebody, somewhere, will quietly set out--somebody has already set out, somebody still rather far away is buying a ticket, is boarding a bus, a ship, a plane, has landed, is walking toward a million photographers, and presently he will ring at my door--a bigger, more respectable, more competent Gradus. (note to Line 1000)
"A bigger, more respectable, more competent Gradus" brings to mind the real Inspector whose arrival is announced at the end of Gogol's play:
Жандарм. Приехавший по именному повелению из Петербурга чиновник требует вас сей же час к себе. Он остановился в гостинице.
Произнесённые слова поражают как громом всех. Звук изумления единодушно взлетает из дамских уст; вся группа, вдруг переменивши положение, остаётся в окаменении.
GENDARME. The Inspector-General sent by Imperial command has arrived, and requests your attendance at once. He awaits you in the inn.
(They are thunderstruck at this announcement. The ladies utter simultaneous ejaculations of amazement; the whole group suddenly shift their positions and remain as if petrified.)
At the beginning of Gogol’s play the Town Major says that an Inspector from St. Petersburg is coming incognito:
Городничий. Я пригласил вас, господа, с тем, чтобы сообщить вам пренеприятное известие: к нам едет ревизор.
Аммос Федорович. Как ревизор?
Артемий Филиппович. Как ревизор?
Городничий. Ревизор из Петербурга, инкогнито. И ещё с секретным предписаньем.
Town Mayor. I have called you together, gentlemen, to tell you an unpleasant piece of news. An Inspector-General is coming.
Ammos Fyodorovich. What, an Inspector-General?
Artemiy Fillipovich. What, an Inspector-General?
Town Mayor. Yes, an Inspector from St. Petersburg, incognito. And with secret instructions, too. (Act One, scene I)
In his Foreword (written after the Commentary and Index) Kinbote mentions his new incognito:
As mentioned, I think, in my last note to the poem, the depth charge of Shade's death blasted such secrets and caused so many dead fish to float up, that I was forced to leave New Wye soon after my last interview with the jailed killer. The writing of the commentary had to be postponed until I could find a new incognito in quieter surroundings, but practical matters concerning the poem had to be settled at once. I took a plane to New York, had the manuscript photographed, came to terms with one of Shade's publishers, and was on the point of clinching the deal when, quite casually, in the midst of a vast sunset (we sat in a cell of walnut and glass fifty stories above the progression of scarabs), my interlocutor observed: "You'll be happy to know, Dr. Kinbote, that Professor So-and-so [one of the members of the Shade committee] has consented to act as our adviser in editing the stuff."
Now "happy" is something extremely subjective. One of our sillier Zemblan proverbs says: the lost glove is happy. Promptly I refastened the catch of my briefcase and betook myself to another publisher.
Describing his row with Lolita, Humbert Humbert explodes Miss East’s incognito:
With people in movies I seem to share the services of the machina telephonica and its sudden god. This time it was an irate neighbor. The east window happened to be agape in the living room, with the blind mercifully down, however; and behind it the damp black night of a sour New England spring had been breathlessly listening to us. I had always thought that type of haddocky spinster with the obscene mind was the result of considerable literary inbreeding in modern fiction; but now I am convinced that prude and prurient Miss East – or to explode her incognito, Miss Finton Lebone – had been probably protruding three-quarter-way from her bedroom window as she strove to catch the gist of our quarrel.
“…This racket… lacks all sense of…” quacked the receiver, “we do not live in a tenement here. I must emphatically…”
I apologized for my daughter’s friends being so loud. Young people, you know - and cradled the next quack and a half.
Downstairs the screen door banged. Lo? Escaped?
Through the casement on the stairs I saw a small impetuous ghost slip through the shrubs; a silvery dot in the dark - hub of bicycle wheel - moved, shivered, and she was gone.
It so happened that the car was spending the night in a repair shop downtown. I had no other alternative than to pursue on foot the winged fugitive. Even now, after more than three years have heaved and elapsed, I cannot visualize that spring-night street, that already so leafy street, without a gasp of panic. Before their lighted porch Miss Lester was promenading Miss Fabian's dropsical dackel. Mr. Hyde almost knocked it over. Walk three steps and run three. A tepid rain started to drum on the chestnut leaves. At the next corner, pressing Lolita against an iron railing, a blurred youth held and kissed - no, not her, mistake. My talons still tingling, I flew on. (2.14)
In the Russian version of Lolita VN calls Mr. Hyde (Dr Jekyll’s alternative personality in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, 1886) izverg v stivensonovskoy skazke (the beast in Stevenson’s fairy tale):
Так случилось, что автомобиль проводил ночь в ремонтной мастерской на другом конце города. Мне приходилось пешком преследовать крылатую беглянку. Даже теперь, когда ухнуло в вечность больше трёх лет с той поры, я не в силах вообразить эту улицу, эту весеннюю ночь без панического содрогания. Перед освещённым крыльцом их дома мисс Лестер прогуливала старую, разбухшую таксу мисс Фабиан. Как изверг в стивенсоновской сказке, я был готов всех раздавить на своём пути. Надо попеременно: три шага идти медленно, три - бежать. Тепловатый дождь забарабанил по листьям каштанов. На следующем углу, прижав Лолиту к чугунным перилам, смазанный темнотой юноша тискал и целовал её - нет не её, ошибка. С неизрасходованным зудом в когтях, я полетел дальше. (2.14)
In Gogol’s Myortvye dushi (“Dead Souls,” 1842) Chichikov mentions revizskie skazki (the census returns). At the end of Pushkin’s little tragedy “Mozart and Salieri” (1830) Salieri wonders if the creator of Vatican (Michelangelo) was no murderer after all and mentions skazka tupoy, bessmyslennoy tolpy (a fable of stupid, senseless crowd):
Ты заснёшь
Надолго, Моцарт! но ужель он прав,
И я не гений? Гений и злодейство
Две вещи несовместные. Неправда:
А Бонаротти? или это сказка
Тупой, бессмысленной толпы — и не был
Убийцею создатель Ватикана?
Your sleep
Will be a long one, Mozart. But is he right,
And I’m no genius? Genius and villainy
Are two things incompatible. Not true:
What about Buonarotti? Or is that just
A fable of stupid, senseless crowd,
And the Vatican’s creator was no murderer?
(Scene II)
In Pushkin’s little tragedy Mozart says that genius and villainy are two things incompatible:
Моцарт.
Да! Бомарше ведь был тебе приятель;
Ты для него Тарара сочинил,
Вещь славную. Там есть один мотив....
Я всё твержу его, когда я счастлив....
Ла ла ла ла.... Ах, правда ли, Сальери,
Что Бомарше кого-то отравил?
Сальери.
Не думаю: он слишком был смешон
Для ремесла такого.
Моцарт.
Он же гений,
Как ты, да я. А гений и злодейство,
Две вещи несовместные. Не правда ль?
Mozart
Yes, you and Beaumarchais were pals, weren’t you?
It was for him you wrote Tarare, a lovely
Work. There is one tune in it, I always
Hum it to myself when I feel happy . . .
La la la la . . . Salieri, is it true
That Beaumarchais once poisoned somebody?
Salieri
I don’t think so. He was too droll a fellow
For such a trade.
Mozart
Besides, he was a genius,
Like you and me. And genius and villainy
Are two things incompatible, aren’t they?
and uses the phrase nikto b (none would):
Когда бы все так чувствовали силу
Гармонии! но нет; тогда б не мог
И мир существовать; никто б не стал
Заботиться о нуждах низкой жизни;
Все предались бы вольному искусству.
If all could feel like you the power of harmony!
But no: the world could not go on then. None
Would bother with the needs of lowly life;
All would surrender to free art.
(Scene II)
Nikto b is Botkin (Shade’s, Kinbote’s and Gradus’s “real” name) in reverse. An American scholar of Russian descent, Professor Vsevolod Botkin went mad and became Shade, Kinbote and Gradus after the tragic death of his daughter Nadezhda (Hazel Shade of Kinbote’s Commentary). Nadezhda means “hope.” There is a hope that, when Kinbote completes his work on Shade’s poem and commits suicide (on Oct. 19, 1959, the anniversary of Pushkin’s Lyceum), Botkin, like Count Vorontsov (a target of Pushkin’s epigrams, “half-milord, half-merchant, etc.”), will be full again.