According to Mlle Larivière (in VN's novel Ada, 1969, the governess of Van's and Ada's half-sister Lucette), Ada could break the back of her pony before she could walk:
By a kind of lyrical coincidence they found Marina and Mlle Larivière having evening tea in the seldom-used Russian-style glassed-in verandah. The novelist, who was now quite restored, but still in flowery négligé, had just finished reading her new story in its first fair copy (to be typed on the morrow) to Tokay-sipping Marina, who had le vin triste and was much affected by the suicide of the gentleman ‘au cou rouge et puissant de veuf encore plein de sève’ who, frightened by his victim’s fright, so to speak, had compressed too hard the throat of the little girl he had raped in a moment of «gloutonnerie impardonnable.»
Van drank a glass of milk and suddenly felt such a wave of delicious exhaustion invading his limbs that he thought he’d go straight to bed. ‘Tant pis,’ said Ada, reaching voraciously for the keks (English fruit cake). ‘Hammock?’ she inquired; but tottering Van shook his head, and having kissed Marina’s melancholy hand, retired.
‘Tant pis,’ repeated Ada, and with invincible appetite started to smear butter allover the yolk-tinted rough surface and rich incrustations — raisins, angelica, candied cherry, cedrat — of a thick slice of cake.
Mlle Larivière, who was following Ada’s movements with awe and disgust, said:
‘Je rêve. Il n’est pas possible qu’on mette du beurre par-dessus toute cette pâte britannique, masse indigeste et immonde.’
‘Et ce n’est que la première tranche,’ said Ada.
‘Do you want a sprinkle of cinnamon on your lait caillé?’ asked Marina. ‘You know, Belle’ (turning to Mlle Larivière), ‘she used to call it "sanded snow" when she was a baby.’
‘She was never a baby,’ said Belle emphatically. ‘She could break the back of her pony before she could walk.’
‘I wonder,’ asked Marina, ‘how many miles you rode to have our athlete drained so thoroughly.’
‘Only seven,’ replied Ada with a munch smile. (1.24)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): (avoir le) vin triste: to be melancholy in one’s cups.
au cou rouge etc.: with the ruddy and stout neck of a widower still full of sap.
gloutonnerie: gourmandise.
tant pis: too bad.
je rêve etc.: I must be dreaming. It cannot be that anyone should spread butter on top of all that indigestible and vile British dough.
et ce n’est que etc.: and it is only the first slice.
lait caillé!: curds and whey.
In his book on Helena Blavatsky (a Russian and American mystic, the co-founder of the Theosophical Society, born Helena von Hahn, 1831-1891), Sovremennaya zhritsa Izidy ("A Modern Priestess of Isis," 1892), Vsevolod Solovyov (a Russian writer, 1849-1903) cites Mme Blavatsky's letter to him in which she compares him to the last straw which has broken the camel's back:
Нет! Спасут меня черти в этот последний великий час! Вы не раcсчитывали на холодную решимость отчаяния, которое было да прошло. Вам-то уж я никогда и никакого вреда не делала и не снилось мне. Пропадать так пропадать вместе всем. Я даже пойду на ложь – на величайшую ложь которой оттого и поверит всего легче. Я скажу и опубликую в Times и всех газетах, что «хозяин» и махатма «К. Н.» плод моего воображения; что я их выдумала, что феномены все были более или менее спиритические явления – и за меня станут горою двадцать миллионов спиритов. Скажу, что в отборных случаях я дурачила людей, выставлю дюжины дураками (подчеркнуто два раза) des hallucinés - скажу что делала опыты для собственного удовольствия и эксперимента ради. И до этого довели меня – вы (два раза подчеркнуто). Вы явились последней соломинкой сломившей спину верблюда под его невыносимо тяжелым вьюком...
"No! The devils will save me in this last greathour. You did not calculate on the cool determination of despair, which was and has passed over. Toyou I have never done any harm whatever, I neverdreamt of it. If I am lost I am lost with every one.I will even take to lies, to the greatest of lies, whichfor that reason is the most likely of all to be believed.I will say and publish it in the Times and in all thepapers, that the 'master' and ' Mahatma K. H. 'are only the product of my own imagination: that I invented them, that the phenomena were all moreorless spiritiialistic apparitions, and I shall have twentymillion spiritists in a body at my back. I will saythat in certain instances I fooled people ; I will ex-pose dozens of fools (underlined twice), des hallucines; I will say that I was making trial for myownsatisfaction, for the sake of experiment. And to thisI have been brought hy you (underlined twice). You have been the last straw which has broken the camel's back under its intolerably heavy burden." (Chapter XXII)
Describing the picnic on Ada’s sixteenth birthday, Van Veen (the narrator and main character in Ada) mentions a little camel of yellow ivory carved in Kiev, five centuries ago, in the days of Timur and Nabok:
Ada had declined to invite anybody except the Erminin twins to her picnic; but she had had no intention of inviting the brother without the sister. The latter, it turned out, could not come, having gone to New Cranton to see a young drummer, her first boy friend, sail off into the sunrise with his regiment. But Greg had to be asked to come after all: on the previous day he had called on her bringing a ‘talisman’ from his very sick father, who wanted Ada to treasure as much as his grandam had a little camel of yellow ivory carved in Kiev, five centuries ago, in the days of Timur and Nabok. (1.39)
In his Vospominaniya ("Memoirs," 1923) Count Sergey Yulievich Witte (Helena Blavatsky's first cousin, 1849-1915, who in 1905-1906 served as the first Prime Minister of the Russian Empire) describes Blavatsky's life in Kiev with the Serbian opera bass Mitrovich:
В этот период своей жизни Блавацкая начала сходиться с этим мужем и даже поселилась вместе с ним в Тифлисе. Но вдруг в один прекрасный день ее на улице встречает оперный бас Митрович, который после своей блестящей карьеры в Европе, уже постарев и потеряв отчасти свой голос, получил ангажемент в тифлисскую итальянскую оперу. Так как Митрович всерьез считал Блавацкую своей женой, от него убежавшей, то, встретившись с нею на улице, он, конечно, сделал ей скандал. Результатом этого скандала было то, что Блавацкая вдруг из Тифлиса испарилась. Оказалось, что она вместе со своим мнимым мужем, басом Митровичем, который также бросил оперу, удрали с Кавказа. Затем Митрович получил ангажемент в киевскую оперу, где он начал петь по-русски, чему учила его мнимая супруга Блавацкая, и не смотря на то, что Митровичу в это время уже было, вероятно, под 60 лет, он, тем не менее, отлично пел в Киеве в русских операх, напр., в "Жизни за Царя", "Русалке" и проч., так как при своем таланте он легко мог изучать свои роли под руководством, несомненно, талантливой Блавацкой. В это время в Киеве генерал-губернатор был князь Дундуков-Корсаков.
Этот Дундуков-Корсаков, во время молодости Блавацкой, раньше чем она вышла замуж за Блавацкого, знал ее, потому что в это время он командовал на Кавказе (где жила и Блавацкая) одним из драгунских полков (Нижегородским). Какие недоразумения произошли между Блавацкой и Дундуковым-Корсаковым - генерал-губернатором Kиeва, я не знаю, но знаю только то, что в Киеве вдруг на всех перекрестках появились наклеенные на стенах стихотворения, очень неприятные для Дундукова-Корсакова. Стихотворения эти принадлежали Блавацкой. Вследствие этого Митрович со своей мнимой супругой Блавацкой должны были оставить Киев и появились в Одессе. (Chapter I. "About my Ancestors")
On Sept. 1, 1911, Pyotr Stolypin (the third Prime Minister of the Russian Empire) was assassinated in the Kiev opera. On Demonia (Earth’s twin planet also known as Antiterraon on which Ada is set) Charlotte Corday (the girl who stabbed Marat in his bath) is known as Cora Day, an opera singer:
The year 1880 (Aqua was still alive — somehow, somewhere!) was to prove to be the most retentive and talented one in his long, too long, never too long life. He was ten. His father had lingered in the West where the many-colored mountains acted upon Van as they had on all young Russians of genius. He could solve an Euler-type problem or learn by heart Pushkin’s ‘Headless Horseman’ poem in less than twenty minutes. With white-bloused, enthusiastically sweating Andrey Andreevich, he lolled for hours in the violet shade of pink cliffs, studying major and minor Russian writers — and puzzling out the exaggerated but, on the whole, complimentary allusions to his father’s volitations and loves in another life in Lermontov’s diamond-faceted tetrameters. He struggled to keep back his tears, while AAA blew his fat red nose, when shown the peasant-bare footprint of Tolstoy preserved in the clay of a motor court in Utah where he had written the tale of Murat, the Navajo chieftain, a French general’s bastard, shot by Cora Day in his swimming pool. What a soprano Cora had been! Demon took Van to the world-famous Opera House in Telluride in West Colorado and there he enjoyed (and sometimes detested) the greatest international shows — English blank-verse plays, French tragedies in rhymed couplets, thunderous German musical dramas with giants and magicians and a defecating white horse. He passed through various little passions — parlor magic, chess, fluff-weight boxing matches at fairs, stunt-riding — and of course those unforgettable, much too early initiations when his lovely young English governess expertly petted him between milkshake and bed, she, petticoated, petititted, half-dressed for some party with her sister and Demon and Demon’s casino-touring companion, bodyguard and guardian angel, monitor and adviser, Mr Plunkett, a reformed card-sharper. (1.28)
Darkbloom (‘Notes to Ada’): The Headless Horseman: Mayn Reid’s title is ascribed here to Pushkin, author of The Bronze Horseman.
Lermontov: author of The Demon.
Tolstoy etc.: Tolstoy’s hero, Haji Murad, (a Caucasian chieftain) is blended here with General Murat, Napoleon’s brother-in-law, and with the French revolutionary leader Marat assassinated in his bath by Charlotte Corday.
On the next day after the picnic on Ada's twelfth birthday Greg Erminin comes to Ardis on his black pony:
A tall rosy-faced youngster in smart riding breeches dismounted from a black pony.
‘It’s Greg’s beautiful new pony,’ said Ada.
Greg, with a well-bred boy’s easy apologies, had brought Marina’s platinum lighter which his aunt had discovered in her own bag.
‘Goodness, I’ve not even had time to miss it. How is Ruth?’
Greg said that both Aunt Ruth and Grace were laid up with acute indigestion — ‘not because of your wonderful sandwiches,’ he hastened to add, ‘but because of all those burnberries they picked in the bushes.’
Marina was about to jingle a bronze bell for the footman to bring some more toast, but Greg said he was on his way to a party at the Countess de Prey’s.
‘Rather soon (skorovato) she consoled herself,’ remarked Marina, alluding to the death of the Count killed in a pistol duel on Boston Common a couple of years ago.
‘She’s a very jolly and handsome woman,’ said Greg.
‘And ten years older than me,’ said Marina.
Now Lucette demanded her mother’s attention.
‘What are Jews?’ she asked.
‘Dissident Christians,’ answered Marina.
‘Why is Greg a Jew?’ asked Lucette.
‘Why-why!’ said Marina; ‘because his parents are Jews.’
‘And his grandparents? His arrière grandparents?’
‘I really wouldn’t know, my dear. Were your ancestors Jews, Greg?’
‘Well, I’m not sure,’ said Greg. ‘Hebrews, yes — but not Jews in quotes — I mean, not comic characters or Christian businessmen. They came from Tartary to England five centuries ago. My mother’s grandfather, though, was a French marquis who, I know, belonged to the Roman faith and was crazy about banks and stocks and jewels, so I imagine people may have called him un juif.’
‘It’s not a very old religion, anyway, as religions go, is it?’ said Marina (turning to Van and vaguely planning to steer the chat to India where she had been a dancing girl long before Moses or anybody was born in the lotus swamp).
‘Who cares —’ said Van.
‘And Belle’ (Lucette’s name for her governess), ‘is she also a dizzy Christian?’
‘Who cares,’ cried Van, ‘who cares about all those stale myths, what does it matter — Jove or Jehovah, spire or cupola, mosques in Moscow, or bronzes and bonzes, and clerics, and relics, and deserts with bleached camel ribs? They are merely the dust and mirages of the communal mind.’
‘How did this idiotic conversation start in the first place?’ Ada wished to be told, cocking her head at the partly ornamented dackel or taksik.
‘Mea culpa,’ Mlle Larivière explained with offended dignity. ‘All I said, at the picnic, was that Greg might not care for ham sandwiches, because Jews and Tartars do not eat pork.’
‘The Romans,’ said Greg, ‘the Roman colonists, who crucified Christian Jews and Barabbits, and other unfortunate people in the old days, did not touch pork either, but I certainly do and so did my grandparents.’
Lucette was puzzled by a verb Greg had used. To illustrate it for her, Van joined his ankles, spread both his arms horizontally, and rolled up his eyes.
‘When I was a little girl,’ said Marina crossly, ‘Mesopotamian history was taught practically in the nursery.’
‘Not all little girls can learn what they are taught,’ observed Ada.
‘Are we Mesopotamians?’ asked Lucette.
‘We are Hippopotamians,’ said Van. ‘Come,’ he added, ‘we have not yet ploughed today.’
A day or two before, Lucette had demanded that she be taught to hand-walk. Van gripped her by her ankles while she slowly progressed on her little red palms, sometimes falling with a grunt on her face or pausing to nibble a daisy. Dack barked in strident protest.
‘Et pourtant,’ said the sound-sensitive governess, wincing, ‘I read to her twice Ségur’s adaptation in fable form of Shakespeare’s play about the wicked usurer.’
‘She also knows my revised monologue of his mad king,’ said Ada:
Ce beau jardin fleurit en mai,
Mais en hiver
Jamais, jamais, jamais, jamais, jamais
N’est vert, n’est vert, n’est vert, n’est vert, n’est vert.
‘Oh, that’s good,’ exclaimed Greg with a veritable sob of admiration. (1.14)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): un juif: a Jew.
et pourtant: and yet.
ce beau jardin etc.: This beautiful garden blooms in May, but in Winter never, never, never, never, never is green etc.
Greg Erminin's arrival on a pony in "Ardis the First" is a parody of Jesus Christ's arrival on a donkey in Jerusalem. Jesus famously said that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.