Dear list,
I am torn as to whether what follows is a true allusion or just a wicked Nabokovian coincidence. Readers of
Lolita will remember the Farlows’ dogs, Cavall and Melampus. Brian Boyd has nicely unpacked this reference to the hunting dogs of King Arthur and Actaeon, but perhaps VN had also in mind an equally brief appearance by Melampus in another work. Here
is how the plot of that work, a 12th century profane play entitled
Babio, has been described by a recent critic:
“Babio loves his step-daughter Viola (Petula’s daughter) with a repressed passion—only to see Viola abducted by a richer and more powerful man. . . . Later, Babio laments
the “violation” of Viola by another man, when he, Babio, had so carefully brought her up for his own delight.” –Laura Kendrick,
Chaucerian Play
As the play opens, we see Babio lamenting his forbidden desire for Viola. He does not see his wife’s servant spying on him [a la Jean Farlow at the lake, perhaps]. This
leads into the following:
(A dog is heard offstage)
Who’s this? Whose voice is that? I spy a man!
Now must I be silent and repress my grief,
Must imitate the crane and stretch my neck.
But who??? I’m done for! Sorrow succumbs to sorrow.
(A dog enters)
Here he comes! Alas, just a barking dog.
Hush, Melampus. Remember yesterday’s bones.
It’s me, Babio. Bark less, dear Melampus.
(Dog goes out)
The dog passes along, but grief remains—
With indivisibility and immobilitude, it’s struck.
Alone with sorrow at last, I’ll mourn Viola.
So here is our Melampus, but I am struck also by the constant references to sorrow. These lines are translated from Latin, so in the original we get phrases like “Fallit
dolor ipse dolentes” and “sed adhuc dolor ille remansit” and “De Viola doleo.” Indeed, the first line of the play reads, “Me dolor infestat foris, intus, jugiter omnis” [Hosts of sorrows assault me at home and abroad]. One wonders if these repeated dolors
might not be related to Dolores Haze. I should note that the play is mentioned in Gower’s
Confessio Amantis (without mention of Melampus), and though there was no published English translation before the 1960s, there were two French translations, which VN certainly could have read. The play received a fair bit of critical attention (including
descriptions of plot, etc.) in the 1920s.
If, by the way, this is not an allusion, it is at least another splendid example of how one may get a decent education simply by studying closely one of VN’s books.
Matt Roth