At the beginning of Canto Three of his poem Shade mentions l¡¯if, lifeless tree, and Rabelais¡¯ great Maybe, ¡°the grand potato:¡±
L'if, lifeless tree! Your great Maybe, Rabelais:
The grand potato.
I.P.H., a lay
Institute (I) of Preparation (P)
For the Hereafter (H), or If, as we
Called it--big if!--engaged me for one term
To speak on death ("to lecture on the Worm,"
Wrote President McAber).
Kinbote¡¯s note to Line 501: L¡¯if
The yew in French. It is curious that the Zemblan word for the weeping willow is also 'if¡¯ (the yew is tas).
There is tis (Russian for ¡°yew¡±) in Outis (Gr., Nobody). In his essay Ob Annenskom (¡°On Annenski,¡± 1934) Khodasevich compares Annenski to Ivan Ilyich Golovin (the main character in Tolstoy¡¯s story ¡°The Death of Ivan Ilyich,¡± 1886) and points out that Annenski regarded his penname Nik. T-o (Mr. Nobody) as a translation of Greek Outis, the pseudonym under which Odysseus concealed his identity from Polyphemus (the Cyclops in Homer¡¯s Odyssey):
§¹§Ö§Ô§à §ß§Ö §Õ§à§Õ§å§Þ§Ñ§Ý §ª§Ó§Ñ§ß §ª§Ý§î§Ú§é, §ä§à §Ù§ß§Ñ§Ý §¡§ß§ß§Ö§ß§ã§Ü§Ú§Û. §©§ß§Ñ§Ý, §é§ä§à §ß§Ú§Ü§Ñ§Ü§Ú§Þ §Õ§Ú§â§Ö§Ü§ä§à§â§ã§ä§Ó§à§Þ, §ß§Ú§Ü§Ñ§Ü§Ú§Þ §Ò§í§ä§à§Þ §Ú §Õ§Ñ§Ø§Ö §ß§Ú§Ü§Ñ§Ü§à§Û §æ§Ú§Ý§à§Ý§à§Ô§Ú§Ö§Û §à§ä §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§Ú §á§à-§ß§Ñ§ã§ä§à§ñ§ë§Ö§Þ§å §ß§Ö §Ù§Ñ§Ô§à§â§à§Õ§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ. §°§ß§Ñ §å§ß§Ú§é§ä§à§Ø§Ú§ä §Ú §Õ§Ú§â§Ö§Ü§ä§à§â§Ñ, §Ú §Ò§Ñ§â§Ú§ß§Ñ, §Ú §æ§Ú§Ý§à§Ý§à§Ô§Ñ. §´§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §ß§Ñ§Õ §Ú§ã§ä§Ú§ß§ß§í§Þ §Ö§Ô§à "§ñ", §ß§Ñ§Õ §ä§Ö§Þ, §é§ä§à §à§ä§à§Ò§â§Ñ§Ø§Ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §Ó "§é§å§Ó§ã§ä§Ó§Ñ§ç §Ú §Þ§í§ã§Ý§ñ§ç", §ß§Ñ§Õ §Ý§Ú§é§ß§à§ã§ä§î§ð -- §å §ß§Ö§× §Ü§Ñ§Ü §Ò§å§Õ§ä§à §ß§Ö§ä §Ó§Ý§Ñ§ã§ä§Ú. §ª §à§ß §ß§Ñ§ç§à§Õ§Ú§Ý §â§Ö§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§à§Ö, §à§ã§ñ§Ù§Ñ§Ö§Þ§à§Ö §à§ä§â§Ñ§Ø§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §Ú §å§ä§Ó§Ö§â§Ø§Õ§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §Ý§Ú§é§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú -- §Ó §á§à§ï§Ù§Ú§Ú. §´§à§ä, §é§î§× §Ý§Ú§è§à §à§ß §Ó§Ú§Õ§Ö§Ý, §á§à§Õ§ç§à§Õ§ñ §Ü §Ù§Ö§â§Ü§Ñ§Ý§å, §Ò§í§Ý §Õ§Ú§â§Ö§Ü§ä§à§â §Ô§Ú§Þ§ß§Ñ§Ù§Ú§Ú, §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§ß§í§Û §ß§Ú§Ü§ä§à. §´§à§ä, §é§î§× §Ý§Ú§è§à §à§ä§â§Ñ§Ø§Ñ§Ý§à§ã§î §Ó §á§à§ï§Ù§Ú§Ú, §Ò§í§Ý §Ò§Ö§ã§ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§ß§í§Û §ß§Ö§Ü§ä§à. §¯§Ú§Ü. §´-§à -- §ß§Ú§Ü§ä§à -- §Ö§ã§ä§î §Ò§Ö§Ù§Ý§Ú§é§ß§í§Û §Õ§Ö§Û§ã§ä§Ó§Ú§ä§Ö§Ý§î§ß§í§Û §ã§ä§Ñ§ä§ã§Ü§Ú§Û §ã§à§Ó§Ö§ä§ß§Ú§Ü, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Þ, §Ü§Ñ§Ü §Ó§Ú§Õ§Ú§Þ§à§Û §à§Ò§à§Ý§à§é§Ü§à§Û, §á§â§Ú§Ü§â§í§ä §ß§Ö§Ó§Ú§Õ§Ú§Þ§í§Û §ß§Ö§Ü§ä§à. §¿§ä§à§ä §ã§Ó§à§Û §á§ã§Ö§Ó§Õ§à§ß§Ú§Þ, §á§à§Õ §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Þ §à§ß §á§Ö§é§Ñ§ä§Ñ§Ý §ã§ä§Ú§ç§Ú, §¡§ß§ß§Ö§ß§ã§Ü§Ú§Û §â§Ñ§ã§ã§Þ§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Ý §Ü§Ñ§Ü §á§Ö§â§Ö§Ó§à§Õ §Ô§â§Ö§é§Ö§ã§Ü§à§Ô§à "§å§ä§Ú§ã", §ß§Ú§Ü§ä§à, -- §ä§à§Ô§à §ã§Ñ§Þ§à§Ô§à §á§ã§Ö§Ó§Õ§à§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ, §á§à§Õ §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Þ §°§Õ§Ú§ã§ã§Ö§Û §ã§Ü§â§í§Ý §à§ä §è§Ú§Ü§Ý§à§á§Ñ §±§à§Ý§Ú§æ§Ö§Þ§Ñ §ã§Ó§à§× §Ú§ã§ä§Ú§ß§ß§à§Ö §Ú§Þ§ñ, §ã§Ó§à§ð §á§à§Õ§Ý§Ú§ß§ß§å§ð §Ý§Ú§é§ß§à§ã§ä§î, §ã§Ó§à§Ö§Ô§à §ß§Ö§Ü§ä§à. §±§à§ï§Ù§Ú§ñ §Ò§í§Ý§Ñ §Õ§Ý§ñ §ß§Ö§Ô§à §Ù§Ñ§Ü§Ý§ñ§ä§Ú§Ö§Þ §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ê§ß§à§Ô§à §±§à§Ý§Ú§æ§Ö§Þ§Ñ -- §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§Ú. §¯§à §á§ã§Ú§ç§à§Ý§à§Ô§Ú§é§Ö§ã§Ü§Ú §ï§ä§à §ß§Ö §ä§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §ß§Ö §Þ§Ö§ê§Ñ§Ý§à, §Ñ §Õ§Ñ§Ø§Ö §ã§á§à§ã§à§Ò§ã§ä§Ó§à§Ó§Ñ§Ý§à §ä§à§Þ§å, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §Ö§Ô§à §Ó§Õ§à§ç§ß§à§Ó§Ú§ä§Ö§Ý§î§ß§Ú§è§Ö§Û, §Ö§Ô§à §®§å§Ù§à§Û §Ò§í§Ý§Ñ §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§î.
According to Khodasevich, Annenski¡¯s Muse was death. Just before Shade¡¯s death Kinbote asks him, if the muse was kind to him:
"Well," I said, "has the muse been kind to you?"
"Very kind," he replied, slightly bowing his hand-propped head: "Exceptionally kind and gentle. In fact, I have here (indicating a huge pregnant envelope near him on the oilcloth) practically the entire product. A few trifles to settle and [suddenly striking the table with his fist] I've swung it, by God." (note to Line 991)
Kinbote¡¯s note to Line 502: The grand potato
An execrable pun, deliberately placed in this epigraphic position to stress lack of respect for Death. I remember from my schoolroom days Rabelais¡¯ soi-disant "last words" among other bright bits in some French manual: Je m¡¯en vais chercher le grand peut-¨ºtre.
In a letter of October 17, 1908, to Ekaterina Mukhin, I. Annenski says that people who ceased to believe in God but who continue to fear the devil created this otzyvayushchiysya kalamburom (smacking of a pun) terror before the smell of sulfuric pitch, Le grand Peut-Etre:
§§ð§Õ§Ú, §á§Ö§â§Ö§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§ê§Ú§Ö §Ó§Ö§â§Ú§ä§î §Ó §Ò§à§Ô§Ñ, §ß§à §á§â§à§Õ§à§Ý§Ø§Ñ§ð§ë§Ú§Ö §ä§â§Ö§á§Ö§ä§Ñ§ä§î §é§×§â§ä§Ñ... §¿§ä§à §à§ß§Ú §ã§à§Ù§Õ§Ñ§Ý§Ú §ß§Ñ §ñ§Ù§í§Ü§Ö §ä§í§ã§ñ§é§Ö§Ý§Ö§ä§ß§Ö§Û §Ú§â§à§ß§Ú§Ú §ï§ä§à§ä §à§ä§Ù§í§Ó§Ñ§ð§ë§Ú§Û§ã§ñ §Ü§Ñ§Ý§Ñ§Þ§Ò§å§â§à§Þ §å§Ø§Ñ§ã §á§Ö§â§Ö§Õ §Ù§Ñ§á§Ñ§ç§à§Þ §ã§Ö§â§ß§à§Û §ã§Þ§à§Ý§í - Le grand Peut-Etre. §¥§Ý§ñ §Þ§Ö§ß§ñ peut-etre - §ß§Ö §ä§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §Ò§à§Ô, §ß§à §ï§ä§à §Ó§ã§×, §ç§à§ä§ñ §ï§ä§à §Ú §ß§Ö §à§ä§Ó§Ö§ä, §Ú §ß§Ö §å§ã§á§à§Ü§à§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö¡
Annenski and his correspondent lived in Tsarskoe Selo (not far from Pushkin¡¯s Lyceum). Kinbote completes his work on Shade¡¯s poem and commits suicide on October 19, 1959 (the Lyceum anniversary). There is cedar (a tree) in Cedarn (the city where Kinbote writes his Foreword, Commentary and Index). Annenski¡¯s last collection of poetry, Kiparisovyi larets (¡°The Cypress Box¡±), appeared in 1910, soon after the poet¡¯s death. In Canto Two of his poem Shade mentions the talks with Socrates and Proust in cypress walks:
So why join in the vulgar laughter? Why
Scorn a hereafter none can verify:
The Turk's delight, the future lyres, the talks
With Socrates and Proust in cypress walks,
The seraph with his six flamingo wings,
And Flemish hells with porcupines and things? (ll. 221-226)
A translator of Euripides, Annenski could speak with Socrates in the latter¡¯s native tongue.
There is a hope that, after Kinbote¡¯s suicide, Botkin (Shade + Kinbote + Gradus; nikto b, ¡°none would,¡± backwards) will be ¡°full¡± again. An American scholar of Russian descent, Professor Vsevolod Botkin went mad and became Shade, Kinbote and Gradus after the suicide of his daughter Nadezhda (Hazel Shade of Kinbote¡¯s Commentary).
Annenski is the author of two books of critical essays, Knigi otrazheniy (¡°Books of Reflections¡±). Shade¡¯s poem begins as follows:
I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane;
I was the smudge of ashen fluff¡ªand I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky. (ll. 1-4)
It seems that, to be completed, Shade¡¯s almost finished poem needs not one, but two lines:
I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By its own double in the windowpane. (ll. 1000-1001)
Dvoynik ("The Double," 1904) is a poem by Nik. T-o. It begins as follows:
§¯§Ö §ñ, §Ú §ß§Ö §à§ß, §Ú §ß§Ö §ä§í,
§ª §ä§à §Ø§Ö, §é§ä§à §ñ, §Ú §ß§Ö §ä§à §Ø§Ö:
§´§Ñ§Ü §Ò§í§Ý§Ú §Þ§í §Ô§Õ§Ö-§ä§à §á§à§ç§à§Ø§Ú,
§¹§ä§à §ß§Ñ§ê§Ú §ã§Þ§Ö§ê§Ñ§Ý§Ú§ã§î §é§Ö§â§ä§í.
Not I, and not he, and not you,
Both what I am, and what I am not:
We were so alike somewhere
That our features got mixed.
and ends in the following stanza:
§ª §Ó §Þ§å§ä§ß§à§Þ §Ü§â§å§Ø§Ö§ß§î§Ú §Ô§à§Õ§Ú§ß
§£§ã§× §é§Ñ§ë§Ö §Ó§à§á§â§à§ã §Þ§Ö§ß§ñ §Þ§å§é§Ú§ä:
§¬§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §ß§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§Ö§è §ß§Ñ§ã §â§Ñ§Ù§Ý§å§é§Ñ§ä,
§¬§Ñ§Ü§Ú§Þ §Ø§Ö §ñ §Ò§å§Õ§å §à§Õ§Ú§ß?
And, in the turbid whirling of years,
The question torments me ever more often:
When we will be separated at last,
What kind of person I will be alone?
Alexey Sklyarenko