At the beginning of his manuscript Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Lolita, 1955) says that, to pronounce the name Lolita, the tip of the tongue takes a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth:
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)
The Russian word for palate (used by Gumbert Gumbert in the Russian Lolita, 1967), nyobo, differs only in the first vowel from nebo, the Russian word for sky, heaven. Voyelles (“Vowels,” 1871) is a sonnet by Arthur Rimbaud (a French poet, 1854-1891):
A noir, E blanc, I rouge, U vert, O bleu, voyelles,
Je dirai quelque jour vos naissances latentes.
A, noir corset velu des mouches éclatantes
Qui bombillent autour des puanteurs cruelles,
Golfes d’ombre : E, candeur des vapeurs et des tentes,
Lance des glaciers fiers, rois blancs, frissons d’ombelles;
I, pourpres, sang craché, rire des lèvres belles
Dans la colère ou les ivresses pénitentes;
U, cycles, vibrements divins des mers virides,
Paix des pâtis semés d’animaux, paix des rides
Que l’alchimie imprime aux grands fronts studieux
O, suprême Clairon plein de strideurs étranges,
Silences traversés des Mondes et des Anges :
— O l’Oméga, rayon violet de Ses yeux !
Des Mondes et des Anges (of the worlds and the angels) in the sonnet's penultimate line brings to mind aurochs and angels mentioned by Humbert Humbert at the end of his manuscript:
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)
Rayon violet de Ses yeux (the violet ray of her eyes) in the last line of Rimbaud's sonnet makes one think of John Ray, Jr., the author of the Foreword to Humbert Humbert's manuscript. In French, yeux (eyes) is a stock rhyme of cieux (heavens, skies). It corresponds to the Russian pair (as pointed out by VN in his poem An Evening of Russian Poetry, 1945) glaza - nebesa. The Russian title of Rimbaud's sonnet, Glasnye, differs only in one consonant and the accent from glaznye (pl. of glaznoy, of the eye). In her travelogue Iz peshcher i debrey Indostana ("From the Caves and Jungles of Hindostan," 1883) Helena Blavatsky (a Russian and American mystic, the co-founder of the Theosophical Society, 1831-1891) describes her dialogue with the director of a local animal hospital who argued that it is not true that the first men were born s glaznymi zubami (with canine teeth):
Но и в Пинжрапале розы не без шипов. Если травоядные "субъекты" ничего лучшего не могут себе пожелать, то сомневаюсь, чтобы плотоядные, как, например, тигры, гиены, шакалы и волки, оставались вполне довольны как постановлениями, так и насильно предписанною им диетой. Так как сами джайны не употребляют мясной пищи и с ужасом отворачиваются даже от яиц и рыбы, то и все находящиеся на их попечении животные обязаны поститься. При нас кормили старого, подстреленного английскою пулей тигра. Понюхав рисовую похлебку, он замахал хвостом и, свирепо скаля желтые клыки свои, глухо зарычал и отошел от непривычной пищи, все время косясь на толстого надсмотрщика, который ласково уговаривал его "покушать". Одна решетка спасала джайна от протеста этого ветерана лесов "действием". Гиена, с окровавленною, повязанною головой и отодранным ухом, бесцеремонно и видимо в знак своего презрения к этому для нее спартанскому соусу, сперва села в лохань с похлебкой, а затем опрокинула ее; волки же и несколько сот собак подняли такой оглушающий вой, что привлекли внимание двух неразлучных друзей, Кастора и Поллукса заведения, старого слона с передней ногой на деревяшке и исхудалого вола с зеленым зонтом над больными глазами. Слон, по своей благородной природе думая лишь о приятеле, покровительственно обвил хоботом шею вола, и оба, подняв головы, с неудовольствием замычали. Зато попугаи, журавли, голуби, фламинго, корольки, все пернатое царство ликовало, заливаясь на все тоны над завтраком. Охотно отдавали ему честь и обезьяны, прибежавшие первыми на зов. Нам также указали на святого, кормившего в углу насекомых собственною кровью. Совершенно нагой, он неподвижно и с закрытыми глазами лежал на солнце. Все тело его было буквально покрыто мухами, комарами, муравьями и клопами...
-- Все, все они наши братья! -- умиленно повторял директор госпиталя, указывая рукой на сотни насекомых и животных. -- Как можете вы, европейцы, убивать и даже поедать их?
-- А что, -- спрашиваю, -- сделали бы вы в случае, если бы вот эта змея подползла к вам и попыталась укусить вас? От ее укушения ведь неминуемая смерть. Неужели вы бы не убили ее, если б успели?
-- Ни за что на свете! Я бы старался осторожно поймать ее, а затем отнес бы за город в пустое место и пустил бы ее на свободу.
-- А если б она все-таки укусила вас?
-- Тогда бы я произнес "мантру". А если б мантра не помогла, то я счел бы это за определение судьбы, и спокойно оставил бы это тело, чтобы перейти в другое.
Это нам говорил человек по-своему образованный и даже весьма начитанный. На наше возражение, что ничто не дается природой напрасно, и что если устройство зубов у человека плотоядное, то стало быть ему определено самою судьбой питаться мясом, он отвечал нам чуть ли не целыми главами из Дарвиновской "Теории естественного отбора и происхождения видов". "Это все неправда, будто первобытные люди родились с глазными зубами", рассуждал он. "Лишь впоследствии, с развращением рода человеческого и когда в нем стала развиваться страсть к плотоядной пище, то и челюсти, покоряясь новой потребности, стали изменяться, пока мало-помалу совершенно не изменили своей первобытной формы"...
Подумаешь: où la science va-t-elle se fourrer?
But even the Pinjarajala roses are not without thorns. The graminivorous "subjects," of course, could not wish for anything better; but I doubt very much whether the beasts of prey, such as tigers, hyenas, and wolves, are content with the rules and the forcibly prescribed diet. Jainas themselves turn with disgust even from eggs and fish, and, in consequence, all the animals of which they have the care must turn vegetarians. We were present when an old tiger, wounded by an English bullet, was fed. Having sniffed at a kind of rice soup which was offered to him, he lashed his tail, snarled, showing his yellow teeth, and with a weak roar turned away from the food. What a look he cast askance upon his keeper, who was meekly trying to persuade him to taste his nice dinner! Only the strong bars of the cage saved the Jaina from a vigorous protest on the part of this veteran of the forest. A hyena, with a bleeding head and an ear half torn off, began by sitting in the trough filled with this Spartan sauce, and then, without any further ceremony, upset it, as if to show its utter contempt for the mess. The wolves and the dogs raised such disconsolate howls that they attracted the attention of two inseparable friends, an old elephant with a wooden leg and a sore-eyed ox, the veritable Castor and Pollux of this institution. In accordance with his noble nature, the first thought of the elephant concerned his friend. He wound his trunk round the neck of the ox, in token of protection, and both moaned dismally. Parrots, storks, pigeons, flamingoes—the whole feathered tribe—revelled in their breakfast. Monkeys were the first to answer the keeper's invitation and greatly enjoyed themselves. Further on we were shown a holy man, who was feeding insects with his own blood. He lay with his eyes shut, and the scorching rays of the sun striking full upon his naked body. He was literally covered with flies, mosquitoes, ants and bugs.
"All these are our brothers," mildly observed the keeper, pointing to the hundreds of animals and insects. "How can you Europeans kill and even devour them?"
"What would you do," I asked, "if this snake were about to bite you? Is it possible you would not kill it, if you had time?"
"Not for all the world. I should cautiously catch it, and then I should carry it to some deserted place outside the town, and there set it free."
"Nevertheless; suppose it bit you?"
"Then I should recite a mantram, and, if that produced no good result, I should be fair to consider it as the finger of Fate, and quietly leave this body for another."
These were the words of a man who was educated to a certain extent, and very well read. When we pointed out that no gift of Nature is aimless, and that the human teeth are all devouring, he answered by quoting whole chapters of Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection and Origin of Species. "It is not true," argued he, "that the first men were born with canine teeth. It was only in course of time, with the degradation of humanity,—only when the appetite for flesh food began to develop—that the jaws changed their first shape under the influence of new necessities."
I could not help asking myself, "Ou la science va-t'elle se fourrer?" (end of Letter II)
Glaznye zuby ("eye teeth") are the upper canine teeth, or cuspids (also called dogteeth, or fangs), located in the jaw directly below the eyes. They are long, sharp, and strong, designed to tear food, guide jaw closure, and support facial structure. They are often called eye teeth due to their position under the eyes, sometimes erupting into the mouth at age 11–12. Dolores Haze is twelve when thirty-seven-year-old Humbert Humbert comes to Ramsdale (a small town in New England) and falls in love with her. Lolita's mother Charlotte (Humbert's landlady whom Humbert marries) tells Humbert that in the fall Dr. Ivor Quilty (the Ramsdale dentist) will 'brace' Lolita's front teeth:
“We have,” said Haze, “an excellent dentist. Our neighbor, in fact. Dr. Quilty. Uncle or cousin, I think, of the playwright. Think it will pass? Well, just as you wish. In the fall I shall have him ‘brace’ her, as my mother used to say. It may curb Lo a little. I am afraid she has been bothering you frightfully all these days. And we are in for a couple of stormy ones before she goes. She has flatly refused to go, and I confess I left her with the Chatfields because I dreaded to face her alone just yet. The movie may mollify her. Phyllis is a very sweet girl, and there is no earthly reason for Lo to dislike her. Really, monsieur, I am very sorry about that tooth of yours. It would be so much more reasonable to let me contact Ivor Quilty first thing tomorrow morning if it still hurts. And, you know, I think a summer camp is so much healthier, and - well, it is all so much more reasonable - as I say than to mope on a suburban lawn and use mamma’s lipstick, and pursue shy studious gentlemen, and go into tantrums at the least provocation.” (1.14)
According to Humbert, when he spoke to Lolita, his artificial tone of voice set his own last teeth on edge:
And I have still other smothered memories, now unfolding themselves into limbless monsters of pain. Once, in a sunset-ending street of Beardsley, she turned to little Eva Rosen (I was taking both nymphets to a concert and walking behind them so close as almost to touch them with my person), she turned to Eva, and so very serenely and seriously, in answer to something the other had said about its being better to die than hear Milton Pinski, some local schoolboy she knew, talk about music, my Lolita remarked:
“You know, what’s so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own”; and it struck me, as my automaton knees went up and down, that I simply did not know a thing about my darling’s mind and that quite possibly, behind the awful juvenile clichès, there was in her a garden and a twilight, and a palace gate - dim and adorable regions which happened to be lucidly and absolutely forbidden to me, in my polluted rags and miserable convulsions; for I often noticed that living as we did, she and I, in a world of total evil, we would become strangely embarrassed whenever I tried to discuss something she and an older friend, she and a parent, she and a real healthy sweetheart, I and Annabel, Lolita and a sublime, purified, analyzed, deified Harold Haze, might have discussed - an abstract idea, a painting, stippled Hopkins or shorn Baudelaire, God or Shakespeare, anything of genuine kind. Good will! She would mail her vulnerability in trite brashness and boredom, whereas I, using for my desperately detached comments an artificial tone of voice that set my own last teeth on edge, provoked my audience to such outbursts of rudeness as made any further conversation impossible, oh my poor, bruised child. (2.32)
At the beginning of the next letter of her travelogue Helena Blavatsky describes a performance she saw in the Elphinstone Theater in Bombay:
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)
According to John Ray, Jr., 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.
But 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 Quilty, 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.). Dr Blue (the chief physician at the Elphinstone hospital) brings to mind O bleu (blue O) in the first line of Rimbaud's sonnet. A noir, E blanc (Black A, white E) at the beginning of Rimbaud's sonnet makes one think of Dr. Blanche Schwarzmann (mentioned by both John Ray, Jr. in his Foreword and Humbert Humbert in his pocket diary) and explorer and psychoanalist Melanie Weiss, the author of Bagration Island (the infolio de lux item in Clare Quilty's collection of erotica).
The roof of the mouth, palate differs only in the last vowel (not mute, as in the case of palate) and accent from palata, the Russian word for "ward, chamber." Palata No. 6 ("Ward Six," 1892) is a story by Chekhov (a writer who visited Ceylon on his way back from Sakhalin in September 1890). According to Vasiliy Nemirovich-Danchenko (the playwright and stage director's elder brother), when Chekhov smiled, it was like luch v potyomkakh (a ray in the darkness).