According to John Ray, Jr. (in VN's novel Lolita, 1955, the author of the Foreword to Humbert's manuscript), Mrs. “Richard F. Schiller” (Lolita's married name) died in childbed, giving birth to a stillborn girl, on Christmas Day 1952, in Gray Star, a settlement in the remotest Northwest:
For the benefit of old-fashioned readers who wish to follow the destinies of the “real” people beyond the “true” story, a few details may be given as received from Mr. “Windmuller,” or “Ramsdale,” who desires his identity suppressed so that “the long shadow of this sorry and sordid business” should not reach the community to which he is proud to belong. His daughter, “Louise,” is by now a college sophomore, “Mona Dahl” is a student in Paris. “Rita” has recently married the proprietor of a hotel in Florida. Mrs. “Richard F. Schiller” died in childbed, giving birth to a stillborn girl, on Christmas Day 1952, in Gray Star, a settlement in the remotest Northwest. “Vivian Darkbloom” has written a biography, “My Cue,” to be publshed shortly, and critics who have perused the manuscript call it her best book. The caretakers of the various cemeteries involved report that no ghosts walk.
In Zhizn' Chernyshevskogo ("The Life of Chernyshevski"), Chapter Four of VN's novel Dar (The Gift, 1937), Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev (the narrator and main character) points out that G. E. Lessing's wife died in childbirth:
Еще в начале журнального поприща он писал о Лессинге, который родился ровно за сто лет до него, и сходство с которым он сам сознавал: "для таких натур существует служение более милое, нежели служение любимой науке, -- это служение развитию своего народа". Как и Лессинг он по привычке всегда начинал с частного случая развитие общих мыслей. Помня, что у Лессинга жена умерла от родов, он боялся за Ольгу Сократовну, о первой беременности которой писал отцу по латыни, точно так же, как Лессинг, сто лет перед тем, писал по латыни и своему батюшке.
In the beginning of his journalistic pursuits, writing on Lessing (who had been born exactly a hundred years before him, and a resemblance to whom he himself admitted), he said: “For such natures there exists a sweeter service than service to one’s favorite science—and that is service to the development of one’s people.” Like Lessing, he was accustomed to develop general ideas on the basis of particular cases. And remembering that Lessing’s wife had died in childbirth, he feared for Olga Sokratovna, about whose first pregnancy he wrote to his father in Latin, just as, a hundred years before, Lessing had done.
The narrator and main character in Lolita, Humbert Humbert was born in 1910, in Paris. 1910 is the year of Tolstoy's death. Leo Tolstoy was born on August 28, 1828, a hundred years after the birth of Johann Heinrich Lambert, a Swiss polymath who was born on August 26, 1728, and died on September 25, 1777. On September 25, 1952, Humbert Humbert is arrested after murdering Clare Quilty (a playwright and pornographer who abducted Lolita from the Elphinstone hospital). According to Humbert Humbert, among the pseudonyms he has toyed with before he hit on a particularly apt one was "Lambert Lambert:"
This then is my story. I have reread it. It has bits of marrow sticking to it, and blood, and beautiful bright-green flies. At this or that twist of it I feel my slippery self eluding me, gliding into deeper and darker waters than I care to probe. I have camouflaged what I could so as not to hurt people. And I have toyed with many pseudonyms for myself before I hit on a particularly apt one. There are in my notes “Otto Otto” and “Mesmer Mesmer” and “Lambert Lambert,” but for some reason I think my choice expresses the nastiness best.
When I started, fifty-six days ago, to write Lolita, first in the psychopathic ward for observation, and then in this well-heated, albeit tombal, seclusion, I thought I would use these notes in toto at my trial, to save not my head, of course, but my soul. In mind-composition, however, I realized that I could not parade living Lolita. I still may use parts of this memoir in hermetic sessions, but publication is to be deferred.
For reasons that may appear more obvious than they really are, I am opposed to capital punishment; this attitude will be, I trust, shared by the sentencing judge. Had I come before myself, I would have given Humbert at least thirty-five years for rape, and dismissed the rest of the charges. But even so, Dolly Schiller will probably survive me by many years. The following decision I make with all the legal impact and support of a signed testament: I wish this memoir to be published only when Lolita is no longer alive.
Thus, neither of us is alive when the reader opens this book. But while the blood still throbs through my writing hand, you are still as much part of blessed matter as I am, and I can still talk to you from here to Alaska. Be true to your Dick. Do not let other fellows touch you. Do not talk to strangers. I hope you will love your baby. I hope it will be a boy. That husband of yours, I hope, will always treat you well, because otherwise my specter shall come at him, like black smoke, like a demented giant, and pull him apart nerve by nerve. And do not pity C. Q. One had to choose between him and H. H., and one wanted H. H. to exist at least a couple of months longer, so as to have him make you live in the minds of later generations. I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita. (2.36)
According to Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev, Chernyshevski admitted a resemblance to Lessing who had been born exactly a hundred years [actually, ninety-nine years] before him. The author of Lolita, VN was born in 1899, a hundred years after Pushkin's birth. VN's novel Dar appeared (except the "The Life of Chernyshevski," the novel's Chapter Four that was first published only in 1952) in 1937, a hundred years after Pushkin's death.
According to John Ray, Jr., Humbert Humbert had died in legal captivity, of coronary thrombosis, on November 16, 1952, a few days before his trial was scheduled to start:
“Lolita, or the Confession of a White Widowed Male,” such were the two titles under which the writer of the present note received the strange pages it preambulates. “Humbert Humbert,” their author, had died in legal captivity, of coronary thrombosis, on November 16, 1952, a few days before his trial was scheduled to start. His lawyer, my good friend and relation, Clarence Choate Clark, Esq., now of the District of Columbia bar, in asking me to edit the manuscript, based his request on a clause in his client’s will which empowered my eminent cousin to use the discretion in all matters pertaining to the preparation of “Lolita” for print. Mr. Clark’s decision may have been influenced by the fact that the editor of his choice had just been awarded the Poling Prize for a modest work (“Do the Senses make Sense?”) wherein certain morbid states and perversions had been discussed.
Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan on 16 November 1581 is a painting by Repin made between 1883 and 1885. A Russian realist painter, Ilya Repin (1844-1930) was born on August 5, 1844. In the Russian Lolita (1967), John Ray's Foreword to Humbert's manuscript is dated August 5, 1955:
Джон Рэй, д-р философии
Видворт, Массачусетс
5 августа 1955 года
Repin is the author of Samosozhzhenie Gogolya ("The Self-Immolation of Gogol," 1909), a painting made for the hundredth anniversary of Gogol's birth. The author of Noch' pered rozhdestvom ("The Christmas Eve," 1832), Nikolay Gogol died in 1852, a hundred years before Dolly Schiller's death in Gray Star. It seems that, actually, Lolita dies of ague on July 4, 1949, in the Elphinstone hospital and everything what happens after her sudden death (Lolita's escape from the hospital, Humbert's affair with Rita, Lolita's marriage and pregnancy, and the murder of Clare Quilty) was invented by Humbert Humbert (whose "real" name is John Ray, Jr.). The author of The Raven (1845) and Annabel Lee (1849), E. A. Poe (an American poet and short story writer, 1809-1849) died on October 7, 1849, a hundred years before Lolita's death. In "The Life of Chernyshevski" Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev mentions E. T. A. Hoffmann and Edgar Poe:
Из всех безумцев, рвавших в клочья жизнь Чернышевского, худшим был его сын; конечно -- не младший, Михаил, который жизнь прожил смирную, с любовью занимаясь тарифными вопросами (служил по железно-дорожному делу): он то вывелся из положительной отцовской цифры и сыном был добрым, -- ибо в то время, как его блудный брат (получается нравоучительная картинка) выпускал (1896--98 г. г.) свои "Рассказы-фантазии" и сборник никчемных стихов, он набожно начинал свое монументальное издание произведений Николая Гавриловича, которое почти довел до конца, когда в 1924 году, окруженный всеобщим уважением, умер -- лет через десять после того, как Александр скоропостижно скончался в грешном Риме, в комнатке с каменным полом, объясняясь в нечеловеческой любви к итальянскому искусству и крича в пылу дикого вдохновения, что, если бы люди его послушали, жизнь пошла бы иначе, иначе! Сотворенный словно из всего того, чего отец не выносил, Саша, едва
выйдя из отрочества, пристрастился ко всему диковинному, сказочному, непонятному современникам, -- зачитывался Гофманом и Эдгаром По, увлекался чистой математикой, а немного позже -- один из первых в России -- оценил французских "проклятых поэтов". Отец, прозябая в Сибири, не мог следить за развитием сына (воспитывавшегося у Пыпиных), а то, что узнавал, толковал по-своему, тем более, что от него скрывали душевную болезнь Саши. Понемногу, однако, чистота этой математики стала Чернышевского раздражать, -- и можно легко себе представить с какими чувствами юноша читал длинные отцовские письма, начинающиеся с подчеркнуто-добродушной шутки, а затем (как разговоры того чеховского героя, который приступал так хорошо, -- старый студент, мол, неисправимый идеалист...) завершавшиеся яростной руганью; его бесила эта математическая страсть не только как проявление неполезного: измываясь над всякой новизной, отставший от жизни Чернышевский отводил душу на всех новаторах, чудаках и неудачниках мира.
Of all the madmen who tore Chernyshevski’s life into shreds, the worst was his son; not the youngest, of course, Mihail (Misha), who lived a quiet life, lovingly working away at tariff questions (he was employed in the railroads department): he had been evolved from his father’s “positive number” and was a good son, for at the time (1896–98) when his prodigal brother (which makes a moralistic picture) was publishing his Fantastic Tales and a collection of futile poems, he was piously beginning his monumental edition of his late father’s works, which he had practically brought to conclusion when he died, in 1924, surrounded by general esteem—ten years after Alexander (Sasha) had died suddenly in sinful Rome, in a small room with a stone floor, declaring his superhuman love for Italian art and crying in the heat of wild inspiration that if people would only listen to him life would be different, different! Created apparently out of everything that his father could not stand, Sasha, hardly out of his boyhood, developed a passion for everything that was weird, chimerical, and incomprehensible to his contemporaries—he lost himself in E.T.A. Hoffmann and Edgar Poe, was fascinated by pure mathematics, and a little later he was one of the first in Russia to appreciate the French “poètes maudits.” The father, vegetating in Siberia, was unable to look after the development of his son (who was brought up by the Pypins) and what he learned he interpreted in his own way, the more so since they concealed Sasha’s mental disease from him. Gradually, however, the purity of this mathematics began to irritate Chernyshevski—and one can easily imagine with what feelings the youth used to read those long letters from his father, beginning with a deliberately debonair joke and then (like the conversations of that Chekhov character who used to begin so well—“an old alumnus, you know, an incurable idealist …”) concluding with irate abuse; this passion for mathematics enraged him not only as a manifestation of something nonutilitarian: by jeering at everything modern, Chernyshevski whom life had outdistanced would unburden himself concerning all the innovators, eccentrics and failures of this world. (Chapter Four)