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), he and Shade were talking one day about Prejudice:
We were talking one day about Prejudice. Earlier, at lunch in the Faculty Club, Prof. H's guest, a decrepit emeritus from Boston - whom his host described with deep respect as "a true Patrician, a real blue-blooded Brahmin" (the Brahmin's grandsire sold braces in Belfast) - had happened to say quite naturally and debonairly, in allusion to the origins of a not very engaging new man in the College Library, "one of the Chosen People, I understand" (enunciated with a small snort of comfortable relish); upon which Assistant Professor Misha Gordon, a red-haired musician, had roundly remarked that "of course, God might choose His people but man should choose his expressions."
As we strolled back, my friend and I, to our adjacent castles, under the sort of light April rain that in one of his lyrical poems he calls:
A rapid pencil sketch of Spring
Shade said that more than anything on earth he loathed Vulgarity and Brutality, and that one found these two ideally united in racial prejudice. He said that, as a man of letters, he could not help preferring "is a Jew" to "is Jewish" and "is a Negro" to "is colored"; but immediately added that this way of alluding to two kinds of bias in one breath was a good example of careless, or demagogic, lumping (much exploited by Left-Wingers) since it erased the distinction between two historical hells: diabolical persecution and the barbarous traditions of slavery. On the other hand (he admitted) the tears of all ill-treated human beings, throughout the hopelessness of all time, mathematically equaled each other; and perhaps (he thought) one did not err too much in tracing a family likeness (tensing of simian nostrils, sickening dulling of eyes) between the jasmine-belt lyncher and the mystical anti-Semite when under the influence of their pet obsessions. I said that a young Negro gardener (see note to line 998) whom I had recently hired - soon after the dismissal of an unforgettable roomer (see Foreword) - invariably used the word "colored." As a dealer in old and new words (observed Shade) he strongly objected to that epithet not only because it was artistically misleading, but also because its sense depended too much upon application and applier. Many competent Negroes (he agreed) considered it to be the only dignified word, emotionally neutral and ethically inoffensive; their endorsement obliged decent non-Negroes to follow their lead, and poets do not like to be led; but the genteel adore endorsements and now use "colored man" for "Negro" as they do "nude" for "naked" or "perspiration" for "sweat"; although of course (he conceded) there might be times when the poet welcomed the dimple of a marble haunch in "nude" or an appropriate beadiness in "perspiration." One also heard it used (he continued) by the prejudiced as a jocular euphemism in a darky anecdote when something funny is said or done by the "colored gentleman" (a sudden brother here of "the Hebrew gentleman" in Victorian novelettes).
I had not quite understood his artistic objection to "colored." He explained it thus: Figures in the first scientific works on flowers, birds, butterflies and so forth were hand-painted by diligent aquarellists. In defective or premature publications the figures on some plates remained blank. The juxtaposition of the phrases "a white" and "a colored man" always reminded my poet, so imperiously as to dispel their accepted sense, of those outlines one longed to fill with their lawful colors - the green and purple of an exotic plant, the solid blue of a plumage, the geranium bar of a scalloped wing. "And moreover [he said] we, whites, are not white at all, we are mauve at birth, then tea-rose, and later all kinds of repulsive colors." (note to Line 470)
The author of Supremely Blest, John Shade is an authority on Alexander Pope (an English poet, 1688-1744). In The Secret Doctrine (1888) Helena Blavatsky (a Russian and American mystic, 1831-1891, the co-founder of the Theosophical Society) quotes Pope's words (in his Epistle I. To Sir Richard Temple, Lord Viscount of Cobham, 1733) about the force of prejudice:
Things of late have changed, true enough. The field of investigation has widened; old religions are a little better understood; and since that miserable day when the Committee of the French Academy, headed by Benjamin Franklin, investigated Mesmer's phenomena only to proclaim them charlatanry and clever knavery, both heathen Philosophy and Mesmerism have acquired certain rights and privileges, and are now viewed from quite a different standpoint. Is full justice rendered them, however, and are they any better appreciated? We are afraid not. Human nature is the same now, as when Pope said of the force of prejudice that:
The difference is as great between
The optics seeing, as the objects seen.
All manners take a tincture from our own,
Or some discolour'd through our passions shown,
Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies,
Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes. (Section III. The Origin of Magic)
In The Key to Theosophy (1889) Helena Blavatsky calls Brahmins (the priests at Hindu temples) the "Jesuits of India," due to their exclusive control over sacred knowledge, claiming they hid the true, esoteric meaning of the Vedas from the masses to maintain spiritual and social hegemony. The Secret Doctrine, the Synthesis of Science, Religion and Philosophy (the full title of Madame Blavatsky's book) brings to mind two false doctrines mentioned by Kinbote and a secret police mentioned by Shade in another dialogue:
The respective impacts and penetrations of Marxism and Freudism being talked of, I said: "The worst of two false doctrines is always that which is harder to eradicate."
Shade: "No, Charlie, there are simpler criteria: Marxism needs a dictator, and a dictator needs a secret police, and that is the end of the world; but the Freudian, no matter how stupid, can still cast his vote at the poll, even if he is pleased to call it [smiling] political pollination."
Of students' papers: "I am generally very benevolent [said Shade]. But there are certain trifles I do not forgive."
Kinbote: "For instance?"
"Not having read the required book. Having read it like an idiot. Looking in it for symbols; example: 'The author uses the striking image green leaves because green is the symbol of happiness and frustration.' I am also in the habit of lowering a student's mark catastrophically if he uses 'simple' and 'sincere' in a commendatory sense; examples: 'Shelley's style is always very simple and good'; or 'Yeats is always sincere.' This is widespread, and when I hear a critic speaking of an author's sincerity I know that either the critic or the author is a fool."
Kinbote: "But I am told this manner of thinking is taught in high school?"
"That's where the broom should begin to sweep. A child should have thirty specialists to teach him thirty subjects, and not one harassed schoolmarm to show him a picture of a rice field and tell him this is China because she knows nothing about China, or anything else, and cannot tell the difference between longitude and latitude."
Kinbote: "Yes. I agree." (note to Line 172)
According to W. B. Yeats (an Irish poet, 1865-1939), the problem with theosophy was that its followers wanted to turn a good philosophy into a bad religion.
In a letter of March 9, 1825, to Pushkin Alexander Bestuzhev (Marlinski) criticizes Eugene Onegin and mentions Indian Brahmins who cut pictures out of an apple seed:
Что свет можно описывать в поэтических формах — это несомненно, но дал ли ты Онегину поэтические формы, кроме стихов? поставил ли ты его в контраст со светом, чтобы в резком злословии показать его резкие черты ? — Я вижу франта, который душой и телом предан моде — вижу человека, которых тысячи встречаю на яву, ибо самая холодность и мизантропия и странность теперь в числе туалетных приборов. Конечно многие картины прелестны, — но они не полны, ты схватил петербургской свет, но не проник в него. Прочти Бейрона; он, не знавши нашего Петербурга, описал его схоже — там, где касалось до глубокого познания людей. У него даже притворное пустословие скрывает в себе замечания философские, а про сатиру и говорить нечего. Я не знаю человека, который бы лучше его, портретнее его очеркивал характеры, схватывал в них новые проблески страстей и страстишек. И как зла, и как свежа его сатира! Не думай однакож, что мне не нравится твой Онегин, напротив. Вся ее мечтательная часть прелестна, но в этой части я не вижу уже Онегина, а только тебя. Не отсоветываю даже писать в этом роде, ибо он должен нравиться массе публики, — но желал бы только, чтоб ты разуверился в превосходстве его над другими. Впрочем мое мнение не аксиома, но я невольно отдаю преимущество тому, что колеблет душу, что ее возвышает, что трогает русское сердце; а мало ли таких предметов — и они ждут тебя! Стоит ли вырезывать изображения из яблочного семячка, подобно браминам индейским, когда у тебя в руке резец Праксителя?
In Canto Two (XIV: 6-7) of Eugene Onegin Pushkin mentions predrassudki (the prejudices):
Но дружбы нет и той меж нами.
Все предрассудки истребя,
Мы почитаем всех нулями,
А единицами — себя.
Мы все глядим в Наполеоны;
Двуногих тварей миллионы
Для нас орудие одно;
Нам чувство дико и смешно.
Сноснее многих был Евгений;
Хоть он людей, конечно, знал
И вообще их презирал, —
Но (правил нет без исключений)
Иных он очень отличал
И вчуже чувство уважал.
But in our midst there’s even no such friendship:
Having destroyed all the prejudices,
We deem all people naughts
And ourselves units.
We all expect to be Napoleons;
the millions of two-legged creatures
for us are only tools;
feeling to us is weird and ludicrous.
More tolerant than many was Eugene,
though he, of course, knew men
and on the whole despised them;
but no rules are without exceptions:
some people he distinguished greatly
and, though estranged from it, respected feeling.
According to Pushkin, the millions of two-legged creatures for us are orudie odno (only tools). Neut. of odin (one), odno = Odon = Nodo. In his commentary and index to Shade's poem Kinbote mentions Odon (a world-famous actor and Zemblan patriot who helps the king to escape from Zembla) and epileptic half-brother Nodo (a cardsharp and despicable traitor). At the end of his commentary Kinbote says that he may join forces with Odon in a new motion picture: Escape from Zembla:
"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 two other 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, healthy, 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 principals: 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 million photographers bring to mind the millions of two-legged creatures mentioned by Pushkin. Speaking of Brahmins, in Krylov’s fable Napraslina (“Slander,” 1816) the Brahmin bakes an egg on a candle. In his poem A Cooking Egg (1917) T. S. Eliot (a member of the prominent Eliot family, part of the Boston Brahmin class that constituted New England's intellectual and economic elite) mentions Madame Blavatsky:
I shall not want Pipit in Heaven:
Madame Blavatsky will instruct me
In the Seven Sacred Trances;
Piccarda de Donati will conduct me . . .