In a dialogue on the porch of The Enchanted Hunters (a hotel in Briceland where Humbert Humbert and Lolita spend their first night together) a stranger (apparently, Clare Quilty) tells Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN’s novel Lolita, 1955) that his child needs a lot of sleep and that sleep is a rose, as the Persians say:
Suddenly I was aware that in the darkness next to me there was somebody sitting in a chair on the pillared porch. I could not really see him but what gave him away was the rasp of a screwing off, then a discreet gurgle, then the final note of a placid screwing on. I was about to move away when his voice addressed me:
“Where the devil did you get her?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said: the weather is getting better.”
“Seems so.”
“Who’s the lassie?”
“My daughter.”
“You lie - she’s not.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said: July was hot. Where’s her mother?”
“Dead.”
“I see. Sorry. By the way, why don’t you two lunch with me tomorrow. That dreadful crowd will be gone by then.”
“We’ll be gone too. Good night.”
“Sorry. I’m pretty drunk. Good night. That child of yours needs a lot of sleep. Sleep is a rose, as the Persians say. Smoke?”
“Not now.”
He struck a light, but because he was drunk, or because the wind was, the flame illumined not him but another person, a very old man, one of those permanent guests of old hotels - and his white rocker. Nobody said anything and the darkness returned to its initial place. Then I heard the old-timer cough and deliver himself of some sepulchral mucus. (1.28)
An Austrian poet, Reiner Maria Rilke (1875-1926) chose as his own epitaph this poem:
Rose, oh reiner Widerspruch, Lust,
Niemandes Schlaf zu sein unter soviel
Lidern.
Rose, o pure contradiction, desire
to be no one's sleep beneath so many
lids.
A myth developed surrounding his death and roses. It was said: "To honour a visitor, the Egyptian beauty Nimet Eloui Bey, Rilke gathered some roses from his garden. While doing so, he pricked his hand on a thorn. This small wound failed to heal, grew rapidly worse, soon his entire arm was swollen, and his other arm became affected as well", and so he died. At the beginning of his manuscript, Humbert Humbert calls himself "this tangle of thorns:"
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.
Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. (1.1)
Describing his childhood romance with Annabel Leigh, Humbert Humbert mentions the poison that remained in his ever open wound:
Furthermore, since the idea of time plays such a magic part in the matter, the student should not be surprised to learn that there must be a gap of several years, never less than ten I should say, generally thirty or forty, and as many as ninety in a few known cases, between maiden and man to enable the latter to come under a nymphet’s spell. It is a question of focal adjustment, of a certain distance that the inner eye thrills to surmount, and a certain contrast that the mind perceives with a gasp of perverse delight. When I was a child and she was a child, my little Annabel was no nymphet to me; I was her equal, a faunlet in my own right, on that same enchanted island of time; but today, in September 1952, after twenty-nine years have elapsed, I think I can distinguish in her the initial fateful elf in my life. We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierceness that so often destroys adult lives. I was a strong lad and survived; but the poison was in the wound, and the wound remained ever open, and soon I found myself maturing amid a civilization which allows a man of twenty-five to court a girl of sixteen but not a girl of twelve. (1.5)
Open-eyed, Rilke died in the arms of his doctor on 29 December 1926, in the Valmont Sanatorium in Switzerland. He was buried on 2 January 1927, in the Raron cemetery to the west of Visp (a municipality in the canton of Valais). Novogodnee ("New Year's," 1927) is an elegy for Rilke by Marina Tsvetaev (a Russian poet and memoirist, 1892-1941). Dolores Haze (Lolita's full name) was born on January 1, 1935. According to John Ray, Jr. (the author of the foreword to Humbert 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.
There is star in Lalitavistara ("the play in full" or "extensive play"). The Lalitavistara Sūtra is a Sanskrit Mahayana Buddhist sutra that tells the story of Gautama Buddha from the time of his descent from Tushita until his first sermon in the Deer Park at Sarnath near Varanasi. It is mentioned by Helena Blavatsky (a Russian and American mystic, the co-founder of the Theosophical Society, 1831-1891) in The Theosophical Glossary:
Lalita Vistara (Sk.). A celebrated biography of Sakya Muni, the Lord Buddha, by Dharmarakcha, A.D. 308.
A settlement in the remotest Northwest, Gray Star brings to mind the gray matter in our brain mentioned by Helena Blavatsky in her book Isis Unveiled (1877):
"There is a personal God, and there is a personal Devil!" thunders the Christian preacher. "Let him be anathema who dares say nay!" "There is no personal God, except the gray matter in our brain," contemptuously replies the materialist. "And there is no Devil. Let him be considered thrice an idiot who says aye." Meanwhile the occultists and true philosophers heed neither of the two combatants, but keep perseveringly at their work. None of them believe in the absurd, passionate, and fickle God of superstition, but all of them believe in good and evil. (p. 31)
Isis (known in ancient Egyptian as Aset or Eset) is a major ancient Egyptian goddess of magic, motherhood, healing, and protection. Her name translates to "Queen of the Throne," which is shown by the throne-shaped hieroglyph she wears on her head. In her travelogue Iz peshcher i debrey Indostana ("From the Caves and Jungles of Hindostan," 1883) Helena Blavatsky (Radda-Bay) describes a performance she saw in the Elphinstone Theater in Bombay (now Mumbai) in February 1879:
В тот же день вечером в театре Эльфинстона давалось в честь «американской миссии» (как нас здесь величают) необычайное представление. Туземные актеры играли на гуджератском языке древнюю волшебную драму Ситта-Рама, переделанную из Рамаяны, известной эпической поэмы Вальмики. Драма состояла из 14 актов и несчетного множества картин с превращениями. Все женские роли игрались по обыкновению мальчиками и, верные историческому и национальному костюму, все актеры были полунагие и босые. Зато богатство костюмов — какие требовались — декорации, машины, превращения были поистине изумительны. Трудно было бы даже на сцене больших столичных театров представить лучше и вернее природе, например, армию союзников Рамы — обезьян, под предводительством их знаменитого в истории (Индии, s. v. p.) полководца Ханумана: воина, государственного мужа, бога, поэта и драматурга. Древнейшая и лучшая изо всех санскритских драм Хануман-наттек (наттек — драма) приписывается этому нашему талантливому праотцу… Увы! прошли те времена, когда гордые сознанием своей белой, быть может, après tout только вылинявшей под северным небом кожи, мы взирали на индусов и других черномазых народов с подобающим нашему величию презрением! Крепко огорчался мягкосердечный сэр Вилльямс Джонс, переводя с санскритского такие, например, унизительные для европейского самолюбия речи, что «Хануман был-де нашим прародителем». Коли верить легенде, то за оказанное храброй обезьяньей армией пособие Рама, герой и полубог, даровал в супружество каждому из холостяков этой армии одну из дочерей великанов острова Ланки (Цейлона), бакшазасов, назначив этим «дравидским» красавицам в приданое все западные части света… Тогда, после величайшего в мире торжества бракосочетания, обезьяны-воины, соорудив из собственных хвостов висячий мост, перекинули его из Ланки в Европу и, благополучно перебравшись с супругами на другой берег, зажили счастливо и наплодили кучу детей. Эти дети — мы, европейцы. Найденные в языках Западной Европы (как в наречии басков, например) чисто дравидские слова привели браминов в восторг; в благодарность за это важное открытие, так неожиданно подтверждающее их древнее сказание, они чуть было не возвели филологов в сан богов. Дарвин увенчал дело. С распространением в Индии западного образования и ее научной литературы, в народе более чем когда-либо утвердилось убеждение, что мы потомки их Ханумана и что притом каждый европеец (если только поискать) украшен хвостом: узкие панталоны и длинные юбки пришлецов с Запада много способствуют к укоренению этого крайне нелестного для нас мнения… Чтò ж? уж если раз наука в лице Дарвина поддерживает в этом мудрость древних ариев, то нам остается лишь покориться. И право, в таком случае гораздо приятнее иметь Ханумана — поэта, героя и бога — праотцем, чем какую-либо другую «макашку», хотя бы даже и бесхвостую…
Но Ситта-Рама — пьеса представленная в тот вечер — принадлежит к мифологическим драмам-мистериям вроде Эсхиловых. Глядя на это классическое произведение отдаленнейшей древности, зритель невольно переносится в те времена, когда боги, сходя на землю, принимали живое участие во вседневной жизни смертных: ничто не напоминало нам современную драму, хотя внешняя форма сохранилась почти та же. «От великого до смешного (и наоборот) всего один шаг»: от козла (τράγος υ§δή), выбираемого в жертвоприношении Бахусу, мир получил трагедию; предсмертное блеяние и бодание четвероногой жертвы древности вышлифованы рукой времени и цивилизации: в итоге является предсмертный шепот Рашели во образе Адриенны Лекуврер и ужас наводящее реалистическое «брыкание» современной Круазет в сцене отравления в «Сфинксе»… Но в то время как потомки Фемистокла, в продолжение многих лет рабства, как и независимости, принимали и продолжают с восторгом принимать все изменения, а по современным воззрениям и «улучшения» Запада, как вновь исправленное и дополненное издание гения Эсхила, — индусы, к счастью археологов и любителей древностей (вероятнее всего со времен нашего незабвенного прародителя Ханумана), так и застыли на одном месте…
The same evening, in Elphinstone's Theatre, there was given a special performance in honour of "the American Mission," as we are styled here. Native actors represented in Gujerati the ancient fairy drama Sita-Rama, that has been adapted from the Ramayana, the celebrated epic by Valmiki. This drama is composed of fourteen acts and no end of tableaux, in addition to transformation scenes. All the female parts, as usual, were acted by young boys, and the actors, according to the historical and national customs, were bare-footed and half-naked. Still, the richness of the costumes, the stage adornments and transformations, were truly wonderful. For instance, even on the stages of large metropolitan theatres, it would have been difficult to give a better representation of the army of Rama's allies, who are nothing more than troops of monkeys under the leadership of Hanuman—the soldier, statesman, dramatist, poet, god, who is so celebrated in history (that of India s.v.p.). The oldest and best of all Sanskrit dramas, Hanuman-Natak, is ascribed to this talented forefather of ours.
Alas! gone is the glorious time when, proud of our white skin (which after all may be nothing more than the result of a fading, under the influences of our northern sky), we looked down upon Hindus and other "niggers" with a feeling of contempt well suited to our own magnificence. No doubt Sir William Jones's soft heart ached, when translating from the Sanskrit such humiliating sentences as the following: "Hanuman is said to be the forefather of the Europeans." Rama, being a hero and a demi-god, was well entitled to unite all the bachelors of his useful monkey army to the daughters of the Lanka (Ceylon) giants, the Rakshasas, and to present these Dravidian beauties with the dowry of all Western lands. After the most pompous marriage ceremonies, the monkey soldiers made a bridge, with the help of their own tails, and safely landed with their spouses in Europe, where they lived very happily and had a numerous progeny. This progeny are we, Europeans. Dravidian words found in some European languages, in Basque for instance, greatly rejoice the hearts of the Brahmans, who would gladly promote the philologists to the rank of demi-gods for this important discovery, which confirms so gloriously their ancient legend. But it was Darwin who crowned the edifice of proof with the authority of Western education and Western scientific literature. The Indians became still more convinced that we are the veritable descendants of Hanuman, and that, if one only took the trouble to examine carefully, our tails might easily be discovered. Our narrow breeches and long skirts only add to the evidence, however uncomplimentary the idea may be to us. (Letter III)
It seems that, actually, Lolita dies of ague in the Elphinstone hospital on July 4, 1949, and everything what happens after her sudden death (Lolita's escape from the hospital with Clare Quilty, Humbert 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.). In his quest of Lolita and her abductor, Humbert Humbert can be compared to Orpheus (a legendary musician) and Lolita, to Eurydice (Orpheus' wife who stepped on a poisonous snake, died from its venom, and was sent to the realm of the dead). Rilke is the author of Die Sonette an Orpheus ("The Sonnets to Orpheus," 1922), a cycle of 55 sonnets inspired by the news of the death of Wera Ouckama Knoop (1900–1919), a playmate of Rilke's daughter Ruth. Rilke wrote the cycle in a period of three weeks experiencing what he described a "savage creative storm." According to Humbert Humbert, it took him fifty-six days (eight weeks) to write Lolita:
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 mid-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)
Humbert Humbert receives a letter from Lolita (now married to Richard F. Schiller) in New York on Sept. 22, 1952, visits her in Coalmont on the next day (Sept. 23), revisits Ramsdale (where he finds out Clare Quilty's address from his uncle Ivor, the Ramsdale dentist) on Sept. 24, and murders Clare Quilty in Parkington on Sept. 25. Normally, fifty-two days pass between Sept. 25 (the day of HH’s arrest) and Nov. 16 (according to John Ray, Jr., the day of HH’s death in legal captivity). 56 − 52 = 4. Chetyre dnya ("Four Days," 1877) is a story by Vsevolod Garshin (a Russian writer, 1855-1888), the author of Skazka o zhabe i roze ("A Tale about the Toad and the Rose," 1884). In his story Krasnyi tsvetok ("The Red Flower," 1883) Garshin compares the red flower to Ahriman (the destructive and evil spirit in Zoroastrianism and Persian mythology):
Он не спал всю ночь. Он сорвал этот цветок, потому что видел в таком поступке подвиг, который он был обязан сделать. При первом взгляде сквозь стеклянную дверь алые лепестки привлекли его внимание, и ему показалось, что он с этой минуты вполне постиг, что именно должен он совершить на земле. В этот яркий красный цветок собралось все зло мира. Он знал, что из мака делается опиум; может быть, эта мысль, разрастаясь и принимая чудовищные формы, заставила его создать страшный фантастический призрак. Цветок в его глазах осуществлял собою все зло; он впитал в себя всю невинно пролитую кровь (оттого он и был так красен), все слезы, всю желчь человечества. Это было таинственное, страшное существо, противоположность богу, Ариман, принявший скромный и невинный вид. Нужно было сорвать его и убить. Но этого мало, — нужно было не дать ему при издыхании излить все свое зло в мир. Потому-то он и спрятал его у себя на груди. Он надеялся, что к утру цветок потеряет всю свою силу. Его зло перейдет в его грудь, его душу, и там будет побеждено или победит — тогда сам он погибнет, умрет, но умрет как честный боец и как первый боец человечества, потому что до сих пор никто не осмеливался бороться разом со всем злом мира.
He had not slept a wink through the night. He had broken off this flower because he saw in his action a duty. At his first glance through the glass door the red petals had attracted his attention, and it now seemed to him that he had fulfilled that which he was to accomplish on earth. In this bright red flower was concentrated all evil. He knew that opium was made out of poppy; perhaps it was this thought which, growing and assuming various monstrous forms, had created in his mind the fearful fantastic idea. The flower, as he saw it, ruled over evil; it absorbed in itself all innocently-shed blood (that is why it was so red), all tears and all the gall of humanity. It was an awful and mysterious being, the antithesis of God, an Ahriman presenting a most unassuming and innocent appearance. It was necessary to break it off and kill it. But this was not all; it was also necessary not to permit it at its death to discharge its evil upon the world. And that is why he put it in his bosom. He hoped that by morning the flower would lose its strength. Its evil would transplant itself to his breast, to his soul, and there it would be vanquished, or else it would vanquish; then he would perish, die, but die like an honest combatant, as the first champion of humanity, because until now no one had yet dared to wrestle at one onset with all the evil of the universe. (Chapter V)
Humbert Humbert's alter ego, Clare Quilty brings to mind Rilke's semi-autobiographical novel Die Aufzeichnungen des Malte Laurids Brigge (The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, 1910) first published as The Journal of My Other Self. It was conceptualized and written while Rilke lived in Paris. Humbert Humbert was born in 1910, in Paris. Rilke's other self, Malte Laurids Brigge makes one think of Fonvizin's satirical comedy Brigadir ("The Brigadier," written 1766–69, publ. 1783) ridiculing the contemporary fashion of aping French manners. On Sept. 24, 1782, Prince Grigoriy Potyomkin (a favorite of Empress Catherine II) praised Fonvizin after the premiere of his comedy Nedorosl' (The Minor), famously telling him: "Die, Denis, or don't write anything else, you won't write anything better!" Bronenosets Potyomkin (Battleship Potyomkin) is a 1925 Soviet silent epic film directed by Sergei Eisenstein. In the Russian Lolita (1967), one of Clare Quilty’s addresses is “P. O. Tyomkin, Odessa, Texas:”
Я замечал, что, как только ему начинало казаться, что его плутни становятся чересчур заумными, даже для такого зксперта, как я, он меня приманивал опять загадкой полегче. "Арсен Люпэн" был очевиден полуфранцузу, помнившему детективные рассказы, которыми он увлекался в детстве; и едва ли следовало быть знатоком кинематографа, чтобы раскусить пошлую подковырку в адресе: "П. О. Темкин, Одесса, Техас".
I noticed that whenever he felt his enigmas were becoming too recondite, even for such a solver as I, he would lure me back with an easy one. “Arsène Lupin” was obvious to a Frenchman who remembered the detective stories of his youth; and one hardly had to be a Coleridgian to appreciate the trite poke of “A. Person, Porlock, England.” (2.23)
The capital town of the book, Gray Star brings to mind Starodum ("Mr. Oldthink"), a character in Fonvizin's play The Minor.