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 (one of the three people 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)
In Ilf and Petrov’s novel Zolotoy telyonok (“The Golden Calf,” 1931) the artist who is looking for Comrade Plotski-Potseluev (Carnal-Kiss) mumbles “Pardon” after bumping into Bender’s chest and Bender mentions a midwife whose name was Medusa-Gorgoner:
Внезапно дорогу братьям преградил человек со складным мольбертом и полированным ящиком для красок в руках. Он имел настолько взбудораженный вид, словно бы только что выскочил из горящего здания, успев спасти из огня лишь мольберт и ящик.
– Простите, – звонко сказал он, – тут только что должен был пройти товарищ Плотский-Поцелуев. Вы его не встретили? Он здесь не проходил?
– Мы таких никогда не встречаем, – грубо сказал Балаганов.
Художник толкнул Бендера в грудь, сказал «пардон» и устремился дальше.
– Плотский-Поцелуев? – ворчал великий комбинатор, который еще не завтракал. – У меня самого была знакомая акушерка по фамилии Медуза-Горгонер, и я не делал из этого шума, не бегал по улицам с криками: «Не видали ли вы часом гражданки Медузы-Горгонер? Она, дескать, здесь прогуливалась». Подумаешь! Плотский-Поцелуев!
Suddenly a man with a portable easel and a shiny paintbox in his hands blocked their path.
He had the wild-eyed look of a man who had just escaped from a burning building, and the easel and the box were all he had managed to salvage.
"Excuse me," he said loudly. "Comrade Platonikov-Pervertov was supposed to pass by here a moment ago.
You haven't seen him, by any chance?
Was he here?"
"We never see people like that," answered Balaganov rudely.
The artist bumped into Bender's chest, mumbled "Pardon!", and rushed on.
"Platonikov-Pervertov?" grumbled the grand strategist, who hadn't had his breakfast yet. "I personally knew a midwife whose name was Medusa-Gorgoner, and I didn't make a big fuss over it. I didn't run down the street shouting: 'Have you by any chance seen Comrade Medusa-Gorgoner? She's been out for a walk here.' Big deal! Platonikov-Pervertov!" (Chapter 8 “An Artistic Crisis”)
In their Introduction to “The Golden Calf” Ilf and Petrov mention a dull six-volume novel entitled A parasity nikogda (“And the Parasites are Never!”):
— Сатира не может быть смешной, — сказал строгий товарищ и, подхватив под руку какого-то кустаря-баптиста, которого он принял за стопроцентного пролетария, повёл его к себе на квартиру.
Повёл описывать скучными словами, повёл вставлять в шеститомный роман под названием: «А паразиты никогда!»
According to Kinbote, Sybil Shade (the poet’s wife) used to call him “the monstrous parasite of a genius:”
From the very first I tried to behave with the utmost courtesy toward my friend's wife, and from the very first she disliked and distrusted me. I was to learn later that when alluding to me in public she used to call me "an elephantine tick; a king-sized botfly; a macaco worm; the monstrous parasite of a genius." I pardon her--her and everybody. (note to Line 247)
In the first stanza of his poem “On Translating Eugene Onegin” (1955) written after the meter and rhyme scheme of the EO stanza VN says that the parasites on whom Pushkin was so hard are pardoned, if he (VN) has Pushkin’s pardon:
What is translation? On a platter
A poet's pale and glaring head,
A parrot's screech, a monkey's chatter,
And profanation of the dead.
The parasites you were so hard on
Are pardoned if I have your pardon,
O, Pushkin, for my stratagem:
I traveled down your secret stem,
And reached the root, and fed upon it;
Then, in a language newly learned,
I grew another stalk and turned
Your stanza patterned on a sonnet,
Into my honest roadside prose--
All thorn, but cousin to your rose.
In their book Odnoetazhnaya Amerika (“Single-Storied America” also known as “Little Golden America,” 1937) Ilf and Petrov described their American road trip. In VN’s novel Lolita (1955) Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character) describes his road trip with Lolita across the USA. Like Ostap Bender (the main character in “The Twelve Chairs” and “The Golden Calf”), Humbert Humbert (who writes his book in prison) often appeals to ladies and gentlemen of the jury. In his dialogue with a stranger on the porch of The Enchanted Hunters (a hotel in Briceland where Humbert and Lolita spend their first night together) Humbert twice repeats the phrase "I beg your pardon:"
“Where the devil did you get her?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said: the weather is getting better.”
“Seems so.”
“Who’s the lassie?”
“My daughter.”
“You lie - she’s not.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said: July was hot. Where’s her mother?”
“Dead.”
“I see. Sorry. By the way, why don’t you two lunch with me tomorrow. That dreadful crowd will be gone by then.”
“We’ll be gone too. Good night.”
“Sorry. I’m pretty drunk. Good night. That child of yours needs a lot of sleep. Sleep is a rose, as the Persians say. Smoke?”
“Not now.”
He struck a light, but because he was drunk, or because the wind was, the flame illumined not him but another person, a very old man, one of those permanent guests of old hotels - and his white rocker. Nobody said anything and the darkness returned to its initial place. Then I heard the old-timer cough and deliver himself of some sepulchral mucus. (1.28)
A Medusa-locked hag and Judge Goldsworth bring to mind Edusa Gold, in Lolita 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 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.
In the same conversation at the Faculty Club Professor Pardon asks Kinbote if his name is an anagram of Botkin or Botkine:
"I heard," hastily began Netochka, "that the Goldsworths are having a wonderful time--"
"What a pity I cannot prove my point," muttered the tenacious German visitor. "If only there was a picture here. Couldn't there be somewhere--"
"Sure," said young Emerald and left his seat.
Professor Pardon now spoke to me: "I was under the impression that you were born in Russia, and that your name was a kind of anagram of Botkin or Botkine?"
Kinbote: "You are confusing me with some refugee from Nova Zembla [sarcastically stressing the "Nova"].
"Didn't you tell me, Charles, that kinbote means regicide in your language?" asked my dear Shade.
"Yes, a king's destroyer," I said (longing to explain that a king who sinks his identity in the mirror of exile is in a sense just that).
Shade [addressing the German visitor]: "Professor Kinbote is the author of a remarkable book on surnames. I believe [to me] there exists an English translation?"
"Oxford, 1956," I replied.
"You do know Russian, though?" said Pardon. "I think I heard you, the other day, talking to--what's his name--oh, my goodness" [laboriously composing his lips].
Shade: "Sir, we all find it difficult to attack that name" [laughing].
Professor Hurley: "Think of the French word for 'tire': punoo."
Shade: "Why, sir, I am afraid you have only punctured the difficulty" [laughing uproariously].
"Flatman," quipped I. "Yes," I went on, turning to Pardon, "I certainly do speak Russian. You see, it was the fashionable language par excellence, much more so than French, among the nobles of Zembla at least, and at its court. Today, of course, all this has changed. It is now the lower classes who are forcibly taught to speak Russian."
"Aren't we, too trying to teach Russian in our schools?" said Pink. (note to Line 894)
Professor Pardon finds it difficult to pronounce the name Pnin (the Head of the bloated Russian Department at Wordsmith University). According to Kinbote, in a conversation with him Shade deplored the fact that Russian intellectuals lack all sense of humor and mentioned those joint authors of genius Ilf and Petrov:
Speaking of the Head of the bloated Russian Department, Prof. Pnin, a regular martinet in regard to his underlings (happily, Prof. Botkin, who taught in another department, was not subordinated to that grotesque "perfectionist"): How odd that Russian intellectuals should lack all sense of humor when they have such marvelous humorists as Gogol, Dostoevski, Chekhov, Zoshchenko, and those joint authors of genius Ilf and Petrov. (note to Line 172)
During the conversation at the Faculty Club Gerald Emerald (a young instructor at Wordsmith University) spreads out his palms like a disciple in Leonardo's Last Supper:
In the meantime, at the other end of the room, young Emerald had been communing with the bookshelves. At this point he returned with the T-Z volume of an illustrated encyclopedia.
"Well, said he, "here he is, that king. But look, he is young and handsome" ("Oh, that won't do," wailed the German visitor). "Young, handsome, and wearing a fancy uniform," continued Emerald. "Quite the fancy pansy, in fact."
"And you," I said quietly, "are a foul-minded pup in a cheap green jacket."
"But what have I said?" the young instructor inquired of the company, spreading out his palms like a disciple in Leonardo's Last Supper.
"Now, now," said Shade. "I'm sure, Charles, our young friend never intended to insult your sovereign and namesake."
"He could not, even if he had wished," I observed placidly, turning it all into a joke.
Gerald Emerald extended his hand - which at the moment of writing still remains in that position. (note to Line 894)
In the same Chapter Eight ("An Artistic Crisis") of "The Golden Calf" Ostap Bender mentions Leonardo da Vinci:
С течением времени Копытто стал употреблять также и другие злаки. Имели громкий успех портреты из проса, пшеницы и мака, смелые наброски кукурузой и ядрицей, пейзажи из риса и натюрморты из пшена.
Сейчас он работал над групповым портретом. Большое полотно изображало заседание окрплана. Эту картину Феофан готовил из фасоли и гороха. Но в глубине души он остался верен овсу, который сделал ему карьеру и сбил с позиций диалектических станковистов.
— Овсом оно, конечно, способнее! — воскликнул Остап. — А Рубенс-то с Рафаэлем дураки — маслом старались! Мы тоже дураки, вроде Леонардо да Винчи. Дайте нам жёлтой эмалевой краски.
Later, Smarmeladov began to use other grains as well. He made portraits in barley, wheat, and poppy seeds, bold sketches in corn and buckwheat, landscapes in rice, and still-lifes in millet-every one a smashing success.
At the moment, he was working on a group portrait. A large canvas depicted a meeting of the regional planning board. Feofan was working in dry beans and peas. Deep in his heart, however, he remained true to the oats that had launched his career and undermined the Dialectical Easelists.
"You bet it's better with oats!" exclaimed Ostap. And to think those fools Rubens and Raphael kept messing with oils. Like Leonardo da Vinci, we're fools, too. Give us some yellow enamel."
Duchess of Payn, of Great Payn and Moan, Queen Disa (the wife of Charles the Beloved) seems to blend Leonardo's Mona Lisa with Desdemona, Othello's wife in Shakespeare's Othello. In the "Twelve Chairs" Zosya Sinitski compares Ostap Bender to Othello:
-- Помните, я рассказывала вам о Корейко? -- сказала вдруг Зося. - О том, который делал мне предложение.
-- Да, -- сказал Остап рассеянно.
-- Он очень забавный человек, - продолжала Зося. -- Помните, я вам рассказывала, как неожиданно он уехал?
-- Да, -- сказал Остап более внимательно, -- он очень забавный.
-- Представьте себе, сегодня я получила от него письмо, очень забавное...
-- Что? -- воскликнул влюбленный, поднимаясь с места.
-- Вы ревнуете? - лукаво спросила Зося.
-- М-м, немножко. Что же вам пишет этот пошляк?
-- Он вовсе не пошляк. Он просто очень несчастный и бедный человек. Садитесь, Остап. Почему вы встали? Серьёзно, я его совсем не люблю. Он просит меня приехать к нему.
-- Куда, куда приехать? - закричал Остап. - Где он?
-- Нет, я вам не скажу. Вы ревнивец. Вы его ещё убьёте. -- Ну что вы, Зося! - осторожно сказал командор. -- Просто любопытно узнать, где это люди устраиваются.
-- О, он очень далеко! Пишет, что нашел очень выгодную службу, здесь ему мало платили. Он теперь на постройке Восточной Магистрали,
-- В каком месте?
-- Честное слово, вы слишком любопытны! Нельзя быть таким Отелло!
-- Ей-богу, Зося, вы меня смешите. Разве я похож на старого глупого мавра? Просто хотелось бы узнать, в какой части Восточной Магистрали устраиваются люди.
"Remember I was telling you about Koreiko?" Zosya asked suddenly. "The one who proposed to me."
"Yes," replied Ostap absentmindedly.
"He's a very funny man," continued Zosya. "Remember I told you how he left town unexpectedly?"
"Yes," said Ostap, starting to pay attention, "he's very funny."
"Would you believe it, I got a letter from him today, a very funny letter . . ."
"What?" exclaimed her beau, rising to his feet.
"Are you jealous?" Zosya asked playfully.
"Well, a little. So what does this clown have to say?"
"He's not a clown. He's just a very poor, unhappy man. Sit down, Ostap. Why did you get up? No, seriously, I don't love him at all. He's asking me to come join him."
"Where, join him where?" shouted Ostap. "Where is he?"
"I'm not telling you. You're too jealous. You'd go and kill him, God forbid."
"Oh, come on, Zosya!" said the captain carefully. "I'm just curious where people find work these days."
"Oh, he's very, very far from here. He writes that he found a well-paying job. He wasn't making much here. He's helping build the Eastern Line."
"Where exactly?"
"Honestly, you're way too nosy. You shouldn't be such an Othello!"
"For God's sake, Zosya, you make me laugh. Do I look like a silly old Moor? I'm just curious where on the Eastern Line people find work." (Chapter 24: “The Weather was Right for Love” )
Zosya Sinitski eventually marries Perikl Femidi (Femida is the Russian name of Themis). Pericles, Prince of Tyre is a play written at least in part by Shakespeare. Pericles (c. 495-429 BC) was a prominent and influential Greek statesman, orator and general of Athens during its golden age. The title of Shade's poem (and of VN's novel) was borrowed from Shakespeare's Timon of Athens.
Sybil Shade and Queen Disa are one and the same person whose "real" name seems to be Sofia Botkin (born Lastochkin). Describing the meeting of Bender and Balaganov in Moscow, Ilf and Petrov mention lastochki (swallows):
В тот печальный и светлый осенний день, когда в московских скверах садовники срезают цветы и раздают их детям, главный сын лейтенанта Шмидта Шура Балаганов спал на скамье в пассажирском зале Рязанского вокзала. Он лежал, положив голову на деревянный бортик. Мятая кепка была надвинута на нос. По всему было видно, что бортмеханик «Антилопы» и уполномоченный по копытам несчастлив и нищ. К его небритой щеке прилипла раздробленная яичная скорлупа. Парусиновые туфли потеряли форму и цвет и напоминали скорее молдаванские постолы. Ласточки летали под высоким потолком двухсветного зала.
On that autumn day, filled with sadness and light, when gardeners cut flowers in Moscow parks and pass them out to children, Shura Balaganov, the preeminent son of Lieutenant Schmidt, was sleeping on a wooden bench in the waiting area of the Ryazan train station. He was resting his head on the arm of the bench, and a crumpled cap covered his face. It was clear that the Antelope's rally mechanic and Vice President for Hoofs was dejected and destitute. Crushed eggshell clung to his unshaven cheek. His canvas shoes had lost their shape and color, and they looked more like Moldovan peasant footwear. Swallows flew under the high ceiling of the airy hall. (CHAPTER 32 "THE DOOR TO BOUNDLESS OPPORTUNITIES")