Describing Ardis Hall, Van Veen (the narrator and main character in VN’s novel Ada, 1969) mentions an old ‘jikker’ or skimmer, a blue magic rug with Arabian designs:
The attic. This is the attic. Welcome to the attic. It stored a great number of trunks and cartons, and two brown couches one on top of the other like copulating beetles, and lots of pictures standing in corners or on shelves with their faces against the wall like humiliated children. Rolled up in its case was an old ‘jikker’ or skimmer, a blue magic rug with Arabian designs, faded but still enchanting, which Uncle Daniel’s father had used in his boyhood and later flown when drunk. Because of the many collisions, collapses and other accidents, especially numerous in sunset skies over idyllic fields, jikkers were banned by the air patrol; but four years later Van who loved that sport bribed a local mechanic to clean the thing, reload its hawking-tubes, and generally bring it back into magic order and many a summer day would they spend, his Ada and he, hanging over grove and river or gliding at a safe ten-foot altitude above surfaces of roads or roofs. How comic the wobbling, ditch-diving cyclist, how weird the arm-flailing and slipping chimney sweep! (1.6)
In Lazar Lagin’s novel Starik Khottabych (“The Old Man Khottabych,” 1938), a popular Soviet book for children, the two boys and Khottabych (Hassan Abdurrahman ibn Khottab, a jinn who was freed by Volka Kostylkov, a boy of twelve, from an ancient vessel found the Moskva river) fly on the magic carpet to India. The novel’s characters include S. S. Pivoraki, a person who loves pivo (beer) with raki (boiled crayfish). After a shave, Pivoraki sprays his face with the flowery eau de Cologne Orkhideya ("Orchid"):
Закончив намыливать свое лицо, Степан Степанович взял в руку бритву и принялся с необыкновенной легкостью водить ею по щекам. Затем он с наслаждением обрызгал себя из пульверизатора цветочным одеколоном «Орхидея» и принялся вытирать бритву, когда вдруг неожиданно рядом с ним неизвестно каким путем возник старичок в канотье и расшитых золотом и серебром туфлях.
When he had finished lathering his cheeks, Stepan Stepanych picked up his razor, drew it back and forth over his palm, and then began to shave with the greatest ease and skill. When he had finished shaving, he sprayed some "Orchid" cologne on his face and then began to wipe his razor clean. Suddenly, an old man in a white suit and gold-embroidered, petal-pink morocco slippers with queer turned-up toes appeared beside him.
ORHIDEYA is a word composed by Ada in a game of Flavita (the Russian Scrabble):
‘Je ne peux rien faire,’ wailed Lucette, ‘mais rien — with my idiotic Buchstaben, REMNILK, LINKREM...’
‘Look,’ whispered Van, ‘c’est tout simple, shift those two syllables and you get a fortress in ancient Muscovy.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Ada, wagging her finger at the height of her temple in a way she had. ‘Oh, no. That pretty word does not exist in Russian. A Frenchman invented it. There is no second syllable.’
‘Ruth for a little child?’ interposed Van.
‘Ruthless!’ cried Ada.
‘Well,’ said Van, ‘you can always make a little cream, KREM or KREME — or even better — there’s KREMLI, which means Yukon prisons. Go through her ORHIDEYA.’
‘Through her silly orchid,’ said Lucette. (1.36)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): Je ne peux etc.: I can do nothing, but nothing.
Buchstaben: Germ., letters of the alphabet.
c’est tout simple: it’s quite simple.
Ada inherited her little gesture from Demon Veen (Van's and Ada's father):
I don’t know if you know,’ said Van, resuming his perch on the fat arm of his father’s chair. ‘Uncle Dan will be here with the lawyer and Lucette only after dinner.’
‘Capital,’ said Demon.
‘Marina and Ada should be down in a minute — ce sera un dîner à quatre.’
‘Capital,’ he repeated. ‘You look splendid, my dear, dear fellow — and I don’t have to exaggerate compliments as some do in regard to an aging man with shoe-shined hair. Your dinner jacket is very nice — or, rather it’s very nice recognizing one’s old tailor in one’s son’s clothes — like catching oneself repeating an ancestral mannerism — for example, this (wagging his left forefinger three times at the height of his temple), which my mother did in casual, pacific denial; that gene missed you, but I’ve seen it in my hairdresser’s looking-glass when refusing to have him put Crêmlin on my bald spot; and you know who had it too — my aunt Kitty, who married the Banker Bolenski after divorcing that dreadful old wencher Lyovka Tolstoy, the writer.’
Demon preferred Walter Scott to Dickens, and did not think highly of Russian novelists. As usual, Van considered it fit to make a corrective comment:
‘A fantastically artistic writer, Dad.’ (1.38)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): ce sera etc.: it will be a dinner for four.
Wagging his left forefinger: that gene did not miss his daughter (see p.178, where the name of the cream is also prefigured).
Lyovka: derogative or folksy diminutive of Lyov (Leo).
Demon's bald spot bings to mind strana pleshivykh lyudey (the land of bald people bordering India in the North and in the West) mentioned by Volka (who is prompted by Khottabych) at the geography exam:
- Индия, о высокочтимый мой учитель, находится почти на самом краю земного диска и отделена от этого края безлюдными и неизведанными пустынями, ибо на восток от нее не живут ни звери, ни птицы. Индия - очень богатая страна, и богата она золотом, которое там не копают из земли, как в других странах, а неустанно, день и ночь, добывают особые, золотоносные муравьи, каждый из которых величиной почти с собаку. Они роют себе жилища под землею и трижды в сутки выносят оттуда на поверхность золотой песок и самородки и складывают в большие кучи. Но горе тем индийцам, которые без должной сноровки попытаются похитить это золото! Муравьи пускаются за ними в погоню, и, настигнув, убивают на месте. С севера и запада Индия граничит со страной, где проживают плешивые люди. И мужчины и женщины, и взрослые и дети - все плешивые в этой стране, и питаются эти удивительные люди сырой рыбой и древесными шишками. А еще ближе к ним лежит страна, в которой нельзя ни смотреть вперед, ни пройти, вследствие того, что. там в неисчислимом множестве рассыпаны перья. Перьями заполнены там воздух и земля: они-то и мешают видеть...
"India, o my most respected teacher, is located close to the edge of the Earth's disc and is separated from this edge by desolate and unexplored deserts, as neither animals nor birds live to the east of it. India is a very wealthy country, and its wealth lies in its gold. This is not dug from the ground as in other countries, but is produced, day and night, by a tireless species of gold-bearing ants, which are nearly the size of a dog. They dig their tunnels in the ground and three times a day they bring up gold sand and nuggets and pile them in huge heaps. But woe be to those Indians who try to steal this gold without due skill! The ants pursue them and, overtaking them, kill them on the spot. From the north and west, India borders on a country of bald people. The men and women and even the children are all bald in this country. And these strange people live on raw fish and pine cones. Still closer to them is a country where you can neither see anything nor pass, as it is filled to the top with feathers. The earth and the air are filled with feathers, and that is why you can't see anything there."
After he was asked by Khottabych to shave little Volka’s beard, Pivoraki stops drinking and changes his surname to alcohol-free Essentuki (Essentuki is a Caucasian spa and name of a mineral water). Before the family dinner in “Ardis the Second” Van tells Demon that he is certainly no T-totaler:
‘Van...,’ began Demon, but stopped — as he had begun and stopped a number of times before in the course of the last years. Some day it would have to be said, but this was not the right moment. He inserted his monocle and examined the bottles: ‘By the way, son, do you crave any of these aperitifs? My father allowed me Lilletovka and that Illinois Brat — awful bilge, antranou svadi, as Marina would say. I suspect your uncle has a cache behind the solanders in his study and keeps there a finer whisky than this usque ad Russkum. Well, let us have the cognac, as planned, unless you are a filius aquae?’
(No pun intended, but one gets carried away and goofs.)
‘Oh, I prefer claret. I’ll concentrate (nalyagu) on the Latour later on. No, I’m certainly no T-totaler, and besides the Ardis tap water is not recommended!’
‘I must warn Marina,’ said Demon after a gum-rinse and a slow swallow, ‘that her husband should stop swilling tittery, and stick to French and Califrench wines — after that little stroke he had. I met him in town recently, near Mad Avenue, saw him walking toward me quite normally, but then as he caught sight of me, a block away, the clockwork began slowing down and he stopped — oh, helplessly! — before he reached me. That’s hardly normal. Okay. Let our sweethearts never meet, as we used to say, up at Chose. Only Yukonians think cognac is bad for the liver, because they have nothing but vodka. Well, I’m glad you get along so well with Ada. That’s fine. A moment ago, in that gallery, I ran into a remarkably pretty soubrette. She never once raised her lashes and answered in French when I — Please, my boy, move that screen a little, that’s right, the stab of a sunset, especially from under a thunderhead, is not for my poor eyes. Or poor ventricles. Do you like the type, Van — the bowed little head, the bare neck, the high heels, the trot, the wiggle, you do, don’t you?’ (1.38)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): antranou etc.: Russian mispronunciation of Fr. entre nous soit dit, between you and me.
filius aqua: ‘son of water’, bad pun on filum aquae, the middle way, ‘the thread of the stream’.
At the family dinner Demon tells Ada that she will be jikkering alone soon:
The roast hazel-hen (or rather its New World representative, locally called ‘mountain grouse’) was accompanied by preserved lingonberries (locally called ‘mountain cranberries’). An especially succulent morsel of one of those brown little fowls yielded a globule of birdshot between Demon’s red tongue and strong canine: ‘La fève de Diane,’ he remarked, placing it carefully on the edge of his plate. ‘How is the car situation, Van?’
‘Vague. I ordered a Roseley like yours but it won’t be delivered before Christmas. I tried to find a Silentium with a side car and could not, because of the war, though what connection exists between wars and motorcycles is a mystery. But we manage, Ada and I, we manage, we ride, we bike, we even jikker.’
‘I wonder,’ said sly Demon, ‘why I’m reminded all at once of our great Canadian’s lovely lines about blushing Irène:
‘Le feu si délicat de la virginité
Qui something sur son front...
‘All right. You can ship mine to England, provided —’
‘By the way, Demon,’ interrupted Marina, ‘where and how can I obtain the kind of old roomy limousine with an old professional chauffeur that Praskovia, for instance, has had for years?’
‘Impossible, my dear, they are all in heaven or on Terra. But what would Ada like, what would my silent love like for her birthday? It’s next Saturday, po razschyotu po moemu (by my reckoning), isn’t it? Une rivière de diamants?’
‘Protestuyu!’ cried Marina. ‘Yes, I’m speaking seriozno. I object to your giving her kvaka sesva (quoi que ce soit), Dan and I will take care of all that.’
‘Besides you’ll forget,’ said Ada laughing, and very deftly showed the tip of her tongue to Van who had been on the lookout for her conditional reaction to ‘diamonds.’
‘Ada, you’ll be jikkering alone soon,’ he continued, ‘I’m going to have Mascodagama round out his vacation in Paris. Qui something sur son front, en accuse la beauté!’ (ibid.)
As Mascodagama Van performs in variety shows dancing tango on his hands. For the first time Van walks on his hands at the picnic on Ada’s twelfth birthday:
What pleasure (thus in the MS.). The pleasure of suddenly discovering the right knack of topsy turvy locomotion was rather like learning to man, after many a painful and ignominious fall, those delightful gliders called Magicarpets (or ‘jikkers’) that were given a boy on his twelfth birthday in the adventurous days before the Great Reaction — and then what a breathtaking long neural caress when one became airborne for the first time and managed to skim over a haystack, a tree, a burn, a barn, while Grandfather Dedalus Veen, running with upturned face, flourished a flag and fell into the horsepond. (1.13)
Filius aqua brings to mind Aqua, Marina’s twin sister who married Demon Veen. Describing the torments and suicide of poor mad Aqua, Van says that Aqua’s last doctor was venerated by everybody as a great guy and near-genius in the usual sense of near-beer:
In less than a week Aqua had accumulated more than two hundred tablets of different potency. She knew most of them — the jejune sedatives, and the ones that knocked you out from eight p.m. till midnight, and several varieties of superior soporifics that left you with limpid limbs and a leaden head after eight hours of non-being, and a drug which was in itself delightful but a little lethal if combined with a draught of the cleansing fluid commercially known as Morona; and a plump purple pill reminding her, she had to laugh, of those with which the little gypsy enchantress in the Spanish tale (dear to Ladore schoolgirls) puts to sleep all the sportsmen and all their bloodhounds at the opening of the hunting season. Lest some busybody resurrect her in the middle of the float-away process, Aqua reckoned she must procure for herself a maximum period of undisturbed stupor elsewhere than in a glass house, and the carrying out of that second part of the project was simplified and encouraged by another agent or double of the Isère Professor, a Dr Sig Heiler whom everybody venerated as a great guy and near-genius in the usual sense of near-beer. Such patients who proved by certain twitchings of the eyelids and other semiprivate parts under the control of medical students that Sig (a slightly deformed but not unhandsome old boy) was in the process of being dreamt of as a ‘papa Fig,’ spanker of girl bottoms and spunky spittoon-user, were assumed to be on the way to haleness and permitted, upon awakening, to participate in normal outdoor activities such as picnics. Sly Aqua twitched, simulated a yawn, opened her light-blue eyes (with those startlingly contrasty jet-black pupils that Dolly, her mother, also had), put on yellow slacks and a black bolero, walked through a little pinewood, thumbed a ride with a Mexican truck, found a suitable gulch in the chaparral and there, after writing a short note, began placidly eating from her cupped palm the multicolored contents of her handbag, like any Russian country girl lakomyashchayasya yagodami (feasting on berries) that she had just picked in the woods. She smiled, dreamily enjoying the thought (rather ‘Kareninian’ in tone) that her extinction would affect people about ‘as deeply as the abrupt, mysterious, never explained demise of a comic strip in a Sunday paper one had been taking for years. It was her last smile. She was discovered much sooner, but had also died much faster than expected, and the observant Siggy, still in his baggy khaki shorts, reported that Sister Aqua (as for some reason they all called her) lay, as if buried prehistorically, in a fetus-in-utero position, a comment that seemed relevant to his students, as it may be to mine. (1.3)
Lagin’s Pivoraki reminds one of Maniraki who poel vse raki (has eaten up all crayfish) in Konstantin Leontiev’s novella (written in diary form) Ispoved’ muzha (“Confessions of a Husband,” 1867):
Я всю дорогу был задумчив. Я никогда не умел хорошо скрывать своих чувств, а на южном берегу отвык от всяких усилий над собой. И не всё ли равно? Скрытность имеет свои выгоды, откровенность свои. А самолюбие ещё не умерло… Слава Богу, думал я, что сделали шоссе; можно троим рядом ехать. Я ехал с ними и молчал. Пожалел, что не умею холодно язвить. Этим, как известно, старым средством умеют иные ронять других при женщинах. А я не умею; рассердиться и рассердясь нагрубить, — это я понимаю. Но как-то всё жалко трогать спокойно самолюбие другого. Хотел для пользы Лизы попробовать подтрунить над Маринаки, и вышло неудачно. Я у него спросил:
— А что, это про вас написали стихи:
Маринаки
Поел все раки и т. д.
А он отвечал без гнева и смущения:
– Нет, это про Манираки. Вы видите, и рифма лучше:
Манираки
Поел все раки. (the entry of Jan. 9, 1854)
Leontiev’s diarist asks Marinaki (the diarist’s rival, a Crimean Greek) if the verse Marinaki poel vse raki was written about him, to which Marinaki replies that it was written not about him but about Maniraki (“you see: even the rhyme is better”). In the surname Marinaki there is Marina. Van’s, Ada’s and Lucette’s mother Marina dies of cancer:
Numbers and rows and series — the nightmare and malediction harrowing pure thought and pure time — seemed bent on mechanizing his mind. Three elements, fire, water, and air, destroyed, in that sequence, Marina, Lucette, and Demon. Terra waited.
For seven years, after she had dismissed her life with her husband, a successfully achieved corpse, as irrelevant, and retired to her still dazzling, still magically well-staffed Côte d’Azur villa (the one Demon had once given her), Van’s mother had been suffering from various ‘obscure’ illnesses, which everybody thought she made up, or talentedly simulated, and which she contended could be, and partly were, cured by willpower. Van visited her less often than dutiful Lucette, whom he glimpsed there on two or three occasions; and once, in 1899, he saw, as he entered the arbutus-and-laurel garden of Villa Armina, a bearded old priest of the Greek persuasion, clad in neutral black, leaving on a motor bicycle for his Nice parish near the tennis courts. Marina spoke to Van about religion, and Terra, and the Theater, but never about Ada, and just as he did not suspect she knew everything about the horror and ardor of Ardis, none suspected what pain in her bleeding bowels she was trying to allay by incantations, and ‘self-focusing’ or its opposite device, ‘self-dissolving.’ She confessed with an enigmatic and rather smug smile that much as she liked the rhythmic blue puffs of incense, and the dyakon’s rich growl on the ambon, and the oily-brown ikon coped in protective filigree to receive the worshipper’s kiss, her soul remained irrevocably consecrated, naperekor (in spite of) Dasha Vinelander, to the ultimate wisdom of Hinduism. (3.1)
Early in 1900, a few days before he saw Marina, for the last time, at the clinic in Nice (where he learned for the first time the name of her illness), Van had a ‘verbal’ nightmare, caused, maybe, by the musky smell in the Miramas (Bouches Rouges-du-Rhône) Villa Venus. Two formless fat transparent creatures were engaged in some discussion, one repeating ‘I can’t!’ (meaning ‘can’t die’ — a difficult procedure to carry out voluntarily, without the help of the dagger, the ball, or the bowl), and the other affirming ‘You can, sir!’ She died a fortnight later, and her body was burnt, according to her instructions. (3.1)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): dyakon: deacon.
Raki is plural of rak, which also means “cancer.” On the other hand, Rak is the Russian spelling of Rack, Lucette's music teacher who was poisoned by his jealous wife Elsie and dies in Ward Five (where hopeless cases are kept) of the Kalugano hospital (where Van recovers from a wound received in a pistol duel with Captain Tapper, of Wild Violet Lodge). It seems that Aqua went mad because she was poisoned by Marina. The arbutus-and-laurel garden of Villa Armina brings to mind aqua laurocerasi mentioned by K. Leontiev (who was a doctor) at the beginning of his memoirs Moi dela s Turgenevym i t. d. ("My Affairs with Turgenev, etc.," 1888):
Медицина первые два года меня тяготила, хотя, конечно, были минуты, в которые меня занимало что-нибудь на лекциях. Общие научные выводы, общие идеи сначала занимали меня больше, чем подробности. Подробности стали нравиться мне позднее, на 4-м курсе, у постели больного и еще больше в военных больницах, где я уже был сам хозяином и распорядителем. Впоследствии времени я стал лечить недурно и нередко очень счастливо. Мне кажется, впрочем, что и в самые вопросы о том - "дать ли тут опиум или aqua laurocerasi, пустить ли кровь или не пустить", - я стал все больше и больше вникать не столько из любви к науке или из корысти, сколько из человеколюбия, несколько романтического оттенка. Впрочем, об этом позднее. Одним словом, вынужденный обстоятельствами поступить на медицинский факультет, я полюбить медицину всей душою все-таки не мог.
According to Marina, at Van’s age she would have poisoned her governess with anti-roach borax if forbidden to read Turgenev’s Smoke:
Her intimacy with her cher, trop cher René, as she sometimes called Van in gentle jest, changed the reading situation entirely — whatever decrees still remained pinned up in mid-air. Soon upon his arrival at Ardis, Van warned his former governess (who had reasons to believe in his threats) that if he were not permitted to remove from the library at any time, for any length of time, and without any trace of ‘en lecture,’ any volume, collected works, boxed pamphlets or incunabulum that he might fancy, he would have Miss Vertograd, his father’s librarian, a completely servile and infinitely accommodative spinster of Verger’s format and presumable date of publication, post to Ardis Hall trunkfuls of eighteenth century libertines, German sexologists, and a whole circus of Shastras and Nefsawis in literal translation with apocryphal addenda. Puzzled Mlle Larivière would have consulted the Master of Ardis, but she never discussed with him anything serious since the day (in January, 1876) when he had made an unexpected (and rather halfhearted, really — let us be fair) pass at her. As to dear, frivolous Marina, she only remarked, when consulted, that at Van’s age she would have poisoned her governess with anti-roach borax if forbidden to read, for example, Turgenev’s Smoke. Thereafter, anything Ada wanted or might have wanted to want was placed by Van at her disposal in various safe nooks, and the only visible consequence of Verger’s perplexities and despair was an increase in the scatter of a curious snow-white dust that he always left here and there, on the dark carpet, in this or that spot of plodding occupation — such a cruel curse on such a neat little man! (1.21)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): cher, trop cher René: dear, too dear (his sister’s words in Chateaubriand’s René).
en lecture: ‘out’.
In K. Leontiev’s novel Podlipki (1861) Vladimir Ladnev says that he recently read Chateaubriand and remembers the night song of a young Red Indian (in Chateaubriand’s story Atala, 1802) in which he says that he will impregnate the womb of his beloved (je fertiliserai son sein):
Я недавно читал Шатобриана и помнил ночную песню молодого краснокожего, который говорит, что он оплодотворит чрево своей милой (je fertiliserai son sein). Сова, месяц и сырость, Паша и ее мать, коварная Сонечка и ее мать... все это порхало около меня. Я сел и писал как бы от лица девушки к себе. Листок этой рукописи цел до сих пор, и помарок в нем почти нет. Я никогда не мог решиться ни сжечь, ни разорвать его. (Chapter XXI)