In his commentary and index to Shade's poem 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) mentions Uran the Last, the Emperor of Zembla who seems to correspond to Paul I (1754-1801, reigned in 1796-1801):
When I was a child, Russia enjoyed quite a vogue at the court of Zembla but that was a different Russia - a Russia that hated tyrants and Philistines, injustice and cruelty, the Russia of ladies and gentlemen and liberal aspirations. We may add that Charles the Beloved could boast of some Russian blood. In medieval times two of his ancestors had married Novgorod princesses. Queen Yaruga (reigned 1799-1800) his great-great-granddam, was half Russian; and most historians believe that Yaruga's only child Igor was not the son of Uran the Last (reigned 1798-1799) but the fruit of her amours with the Russian adventurer Hodinski, her goliart (court jester) and a poet of genius, said to have forged in his spare time a famous old Russian chanson de geste generally attributed to an anonymous bard of the twelfth century. (note to Line 681)
Uran the Last, Emperor of Zembla, reigned 1798-1799; an incredibly brilliant, luxurious and cruel monarch whose whistling whip made Zembla spin like a rainbow top; dispatched one night by a group of his sister's united favorites, 681. (index)
In his book Tayna Zapada. Atlantida-Evropa ("The Secret of the West. Atlantis-Europe," 1930) Dmitri Merezhkovski (a Russian poet and writer, 1865-1941) mentions the sky and eternity god Uranus who was castrated by his son Kronos with an adamantine sickle given to him by his mother (Uranus's wife) Gaia (the Earth):
Кажется, такой же древний, ханаано-пелазгийский, миф сообщает Гезиод в «Теогонии». Гэя-Земля, устав рождать от Урана, бога Неба и Вечности, погребаемых им заживо детей, подговаривает сына своего, Кроноса, оскопить отца. «Светлою, кованною из стали косою», – может быть, лунным серпом, первым указателем времени – лунного года, – «оскопляется», пресекается Вечность. Фалл Урана падает в море, должно быть, раскаленною глыбою аэролита; волны пенятся, кипят, и выходит из них Афродита – Пенорожденная: вся красота, вся любовь земная – от оскопленного Пола Небесного; здешний Эрос – Антэрос нездешний.
Смутен и этот миф, но и в нем ясно одно: Мать сущего – Вода. (Part Two, Chapter Nine: "Blue - Black - White," V)
According to Kinbote, Gradus (Shade's murderer) had tried several times to castrate himself:
Gradus landed at the Cote d'Azur airport in the early afternoon of July 15, 1959. Despite his worries he could not help being impressed by the torrent of magnificent trucks, agile motor bicycles and cosmopolitan private cars on the Promenade. He remembered and disliked the torrid heat and the blinding blue of the sea. Hotel Lazuli, where before World War Two he had spent a week with a consumptive Bosnian terrorist, when it was a squalid, running-water place frequented by young Germans, was now a squalid, running-water place frequented by old Frenchmen. It was situated in a transverse street, between two thoroughfares parallel to the quay, and the ceaseless roar of crisscross traffic mingling with the grinding and banging of construction work proceeding under the auspices of a crane opposite the hotel (which had been surrounded by a stagnant calm two decades earlier) was a delightful surprise for Gradus, who always liked a little noise to keep his mind off things. ("Ça distrait," as he said to the apologetic hostlerwife and her sister.)
After scrupulously washing his hands, he went out again, a tremor of excitement running like fever down his crooked spine. At one of the tables of a sidewalk cafe on the corner of his street and the Promenade, a man in a bottle-green jacket, sitting in the company of an obvious whore, clapped both palms to his face, emitted the sound of a muffled sneeze; and kept masking himself with his hands as he pretended to wait for the second installment. Gradus walked along the north side of the embankment. After stopping for a minute before the display of a souvenir shop, he went inside, asked the price of a little hippopotamus made of violet glass, and purchased a map of Nice and its environs. As he walked on to the taxi stand in rue Gambetta, he happened to notice two young tourists in loud shirts stained with sweat, their faces and necks a bright pink from the heat and imprudent solarization; they carried carefully folded over their arms the silk-lined doublebreasted coats of their wide-trousered dark suits and did not look at our sleuth who despite his being exceptionally unobservant felt the undulation of something faintly familiar as they brushed past. They knew nothing of his presence abroad or of his interesting job; in point of fact, only a few minutes ago had their, and his, superior discovered that Gradus was in Nice and not in Geneva. Neither had Gradus been informed that he would be assisted in his quest by the Soviet sportsmen, Andronnikov and Niagarin, whom he had casually met once or twice on the Onhava Palace grounds when re-paning a broken window and checking for the new government the rare Rippleson panes in one of the ex-royal hothouses; and next moment he had lost the thread end of recognition as he settled down with the prudent wriggle of a short-legged person in the back seat of an old Cadillac and asked to be taken to a restaurant between Pellos and Cap Turc. It is hard to say what our man's hopes and intentions were. Did he want just to peep through the myrtles and oleanders at an imagined swimming pool? Did he expect to hear the continuation of Gordon's bravura piece played now in another rendition, by two larger and stronger hands? Would he have crept, pistol in hand, to where, a sun-bathing giant lay spread-eagled, a spread eagle of hair on his chest? We do not know, nor did Gradus perhaps know himself; anyway, he was spared an unnecessary journey. Modern taximen are as talkative as were the barbers of old, and even before the old Cadillac had rolled out of town, our unfortunate killer knew that his driver's brother had worked in the gardens of Villa Disa but that at present nobody lived there, the Queen having gone to Italy for the rest of July.
At his hotel the beaming proprietress handed him a telegram. It chided him in Danish for leaving Geneva and told him to undertake nothing until further notice. It also advised him to forget his work and amuse himself. But what (save dreams of blood) could be his amusements? He was not interested in sightseeing or seasiding. He had long stopped drinking. He did not go to concerts. He did not gamble. Sexual impulses had greatly bothered him at one time but that was over. After his wife, a beader in Radugovitra, had left him (with a gypsy lover), he had lived in sin with his mother-in-law until she was removed, blind and dropsical, to an asylum for decayed widows. Since then he had tried several times to castrate himself, had been laid up at the Glassman Hospital with a severe infection, and now, at forty-four, was quite cured of the lust that Nature, the grand cheat, puts into us to inveigle us into propagation. No wonder the advice to amuse himself infuriated him. I think I shall break this note here. (note to Line 697)
Radugovitra brings to mind Merezhkovski's essay Zimnie radugi ("The Winter Rainbows," 1906). In his essay Merezhkovski mentions the murderers of Paul I (the Russian emperor who was assassinated in the newly built Mikhaylovski Castle on the night of March 23, 1801):
Моя ежедневная прогулка — в Летнем саду, мимо домика Петра Великого. Там на старых липах множество вороньих гнезд. Когда убийцы Павла I проходили ночью по средней аллее сада к Михайловскому замку, то поднялось такое карканье, что заговорщики боялись, как бы не проснулся спящий император. Вороны и надо мною каркают. Есть легенда, что эта вещая птица живет столетия. Может быть, некоторые из них помнят Петра.
The prophetic birds mentioned by Merezhkovski, vorony (the crows) make one think of the artistic correlation between the English crown-crow-cow series and the Russian korona-vorona-korova series pointed out by Kinbote in his commentary:
Translators of Shade's poem are bound to have trouble with the transformation, at one stroke, of "mountain" into "fountain:" it cannot be rendered in French or German, or Russian, or Zemblan; so the translator will have to put it into one of those footnotes that are the rogue's galleries of words. However! There exists to my knowledge one absolutely extraordinary, unbelievably elegant case, where not only two, but three words are involved. The story itself is trivial enough (and probably apocryphal). A newspaper account of a Russian tsar's coronation had, instead of korona (crown), the misprint vorona (crow), and when next day this apologetically "corrected," it got misprinted a second time as korova (cow). The artistic correlation between the crown-crow-cow series and the Russian korona-vorona-korova series is something that would have, I am sure, enraptured my poet. I have seen nothing like it on lexical playfields and the odds against the double coincidence defy computation. (note to Line 803)
On the other hand, mnozhestvo voron'yikh gnyozd (a lot of crow nests) on the old lindens in the Letniy Sad (mentioned by Merezhkovski in his essay) brings to mind "A preterist: one who collects cold nests" (a line in Canto One of Shade's poem):
I was an infant when my parents died.
They both were ornithologists. I've tried
So often to evoke them that today
I have a thousand parents. Sadly they
Dissolve in their own virtues and recede,
But certain words, chance words I hear or read,
Such as "bad heart" always to him refer,
And "cancer of the pancreas" to her.
A preterist: one who collects cold nests.
Here was my bedroom, now reserved for guests. (ll. 71-80)
Preterism is a Christian eschatological view or belief that interprets some (partial preterism) or all (full preterism) prophecies of the Bible as events which have already been fulfilled in history. In Canto Three of his poem Shade describes IPH (a lay Institute of Preparation for the Hereafter) and says that it missed what mostly interests the preterist:
L'if, lifeless tree! Your great Maybe, Rabelais:
The grand potato. I.P.H., a lay
Institute (I) of Preparation (P)
For the Hereafter (H), or If, as we
Called it - big if! - engaged me for one term
To speak on death ("to lecture on the Worm,"
Wrote President McAber). You and I,
And she, then a mere tot, moved from New Wye
To Yewshade, in another, higher state.
I love great mountains. From the iron gate
Of the ramshackle house we rented there
One saw a snowy form, so far, so fair,
That one could only fetch a sigh, as if
It might assist assimilation. Iph
Was a larvorium and a violet:
A grave in Reason's early spring. And yet
It missed the gist of the whole thing; it missed
What mostly interests the preterist;
For we die every day; oblivion thrives
Not on dry thighbones but on blood-ripe lives,
And our best yesterdays are now foul piles
Of crumpled names, phone numbers and foxed files.
I'm ready to become a floweret
Or a fat fly, but never, to forget. (ll. 501-524)
On the other hand, Uran the Last brings to mind Balmont's poem Nikolayu Poslednemu (“To Nicholas the Last,” 1907):
Ты грязный негодяй с кровавыми руками,
Ты зажиматель ртов, ты пробиватель лбов,
Палач, в уютности сидящий с палачами,
Под тенью виселиц, над сонмами гробов.
Когда ж придёт твой час, отверженец Природы,
И страшный дух темниц, наполненных тобой,
Восстанет облаком, уже растущим годы,
И бросит молнию, и прогремит Судьбой.
Ты должен быть казнён рукою человека,
Быть может собственной, привыкшей убивать,
Ты до чрезмерности душою стал калека,
Подобным жить нельзя, ты гнусности печать.
Ты осквернил себя, свою страну, все страны,
Что стонут под твоей уродливой пятой,
Ты карлик, ты Кощей, ты грязью, кровью пьяный,
Ты должен быть убит, ты стал для всех бедой.
Природа выбрала тебя для завершенья
Всех богохульностей Романовской семьи,
Последыш мерзостный, ползучее сцепленье
Всех низостей, умри, позорны дни твои.
A Russian poet, Konstantin Balmont (1867-1942) calls the tsar Nicholas II (1868-1918) karlik (a dwarf). In his zametka (a note) in Diaghilev's art magazine Mir iskusstva (1903, No. 4, p. 43), Eshchyo o Merezhkovskom ("More about Merezhkovski"), Vasiliy Rozanov (a Russian writer and philosopher, 1856-1919) quotes the radical critic Mikhaylovski's words karlik Merezhkovski (the dwarf Merezhkovski):
В "письме в редакцию", по поводу "пигмеев" и "гигантов", Д.С. Мережковский как будто несколько сетует за передачу мною слов его из частного разговора. Конечно, я приношу ему в этом извинение. Далее, ни в каком случае я не думаю и ни в какие годы не думал, чтобы он был "пигмеем" перед "Полифемом" - Михайловским и, хоть средней величины, мною. Вообще печатные измерения друг друга не красивы. Все мы малы перед Богом, а в отношении друг друга - "равны", "равны, как люди", по прекраснейшему выражению Мережковского. Безвкусная идея мерить аршином или своим "демократическим вершком" сотоварища-писателя пришла г. Михайловскому ("карлик Мережковский"), к которой я не только не присоединился, но именно негодование на которую и вызвало мою статью. Далее, не могу у Мережковского не отметить с крайним сочувствием его слова об отношении нашей публики к Л.Н. Толстому, отношении, в котором не было сохранено ни ума, ни гордости, а уж любви к великому человеку было всего меньше.
According to Kinbote, on his deathbed Conmal (the Zemblan translator of Shakespeare) called his nephew, King Charles the Beloved, "Karlik:"
To return to the King: take for instance the question of personal culture. How often is it that kings engage in some special research? Conchologists among them can be counted on the fngers of one maimed hand. The last king of Zembla - partly under the influence of his uncle Conmal, the great translator of Shakespeare (see notes to lines 39 - 40 and 962), had become, despite frequent migraines, passionately addicted to the study of literature. At forty, not long before the collapse of his throne, he had attained such a degree of scholarship that he dared accede to his venerable uncle's raucous dying request: "Teach, Karlik!" Of course, it would have been unseemly for a monarch to appear in the robes of learning at a university lectern and present to rosy youths Finnegans Wake as a monstrous extension of Angus MacDiarmid's "incoherent transactions" and of Southey's Lingo-Grande ("Dear Stumparumper," etc.) or discuss the Zemblan variants, collected in 1798 by Hodinski, of the Kongs-skugg-sio (The Royal Mirror), an anonymous masterpiece of the twelfth century. Therefore he lectured under an assumed name and in a heavy make-up, with wig and false whiskers. All brown-bearded, apple-checked, blue-eyed Zemblans look alike, and I who have not shaved now for a year, resemble my disguised king (see also note to line 894). (note to Line 12)
Queen Yaruga (the sister of Uran the Last) brings to mind "Vse im vedomy dorogi, vse im znaemy yarugi (All roads are known to them, all ravines are known to them)," the words of Igor's brother Vsevolod in Balmont's "modernized" version of Slovo o polku Igoreve ("The Song of Igor's Campaign"):
"Все им ведомы дороги, все им знаемы яруги,
Уж натянуты их луки, много стрел, колчан отворен,
Уж наточены их сабли, сами скачут серым волком,
Ищут чести в поле бранном для себя, а князю - славы!»
At the end of his poem Nash tsar’ (“Our Tsar,” 1907) written for the tenth anniversary of the coronation of Nicholas II Balmont says that he who started reigning with Hodynka (the Khodynka tragedy, a human stampede on 30 May, 1896, on Khodynka Field in Moscow, during the festivities following the coronation of Nicholas II) will finish standing at the scaffold:
Наш царь - Мукден, наш царь - Цусима,
Наш царь - кровавое пятно,
Зловонье пороха и дыма,
В котором разуму - темно...
Наш царь - убожество слепое,
Тюрьма и кнут, подсуд, расстрел,
Царь-висельник, тем низкий вдвое,
Что обещал, но дать не смел.
Он трус, он чувствует с запинкой,
Но будет, час расплаты ждёт.
Кто начал царствовать - Ходынкой,
Тот кончит - встав на эшафот.
Our tsar is Mukden, tsar - Tsushima,
Our tsar is the stain of blood,
The stench of gunpowder and reek smoke,
In which the intellect feels - dark...
Our tsar is a blind-sighted squalor,
prison and whip, the judge, the shoot,
The king - the gallows, double low,
And what he promised, he dared not.
He is a coward, fumble feeling,
But hour of reckoning will come.
Who started reigning with - Hodynka,
will finish - at the scaffold stand.
Among the people who were executed with the family of Nicholas II (the last Russian tsar, reigned in 1894-1917) on the night of July 17, 1918, in Yekaterinburg was Dr Eugene Botkin. The poet Shade, his commentator Kinbote and his murderer Gradus seem to represent three different aspects of Botkin’s personality. An American scholar of Russian descent, Professor Vsevolod Botkin went mad and became Shade, Kinbote and Gradus after the tragic death of his daughter Nadezhda (Hazel Shade’s "real" name). In his epigram on Count Vorontsov (the governor general of New Russia, the poet's boss in Odessa) Pushkin mentions nadezhda (hope):
Полу-милорд, полу-купец,
Полу-мудрец, полу-невежда,
Полу-подлец, но есть надежда,
Что будет полным наконец.
Half-milord, half-merchant,
Half-sage, half-ignoramus,
Half-scoundrel, but there is a hope
That he will be a full one at last.
There is a hope that, when Kinbote completes his work on Shade’s poem and commits suicide (on Oct. 19, 1959, the anniversary of Pushkin’s Lyceum), Botkin will be full again.