Describing his life with Valeria in Paris, Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Lolita, 1955) calls Colonel Maximovich (Valeria's lover) le gredin (the scoundrel):
But we never were. Valechka - by now shedding torrents of tears tinged with the mess of her rainbow make-up, started to fill anyhow a trunk, and two suitcases, and a bursting carton, and visions of putting on my mountain boots and taking a running kick at her rump were of course impossible to put into execution with the cursed colonel hovering around all the time. I cannot say he behaved insolently or anything like that; on the contrary, he displayed, as a small sideshow in the theatricals I had been inveigled in, a discreet old-world civility, punctuating his movements with all sorts of mispronounced apologies (j’ai demandé pardonne - excuse me - est-ce que j’ai puis - may I - and so forth), and turning away tactfully when Valechka took down with a flourish her pink panties from the clothesline above the tub; but he seemed to be all over the place at once, le gredin, agreeing his frame with the anatomy of the flat, reading in my chair my newspaper, untying a knotted string, rolling a cigarette, counting the teaspoons, visiting the bathroom, helping his moll to wrap up the electric fan her father had given her, and carrying streetward her luggage. I sat with arms folded, one hip on the window sill, dying of hate and boredom. At last both were out of the quivering apartment - the vibration of the door I had slammed after them still rang in my every nerve, a poor substitute for the backhand slap with which I ought to have hit her across the cheekbone according to the rules of the movies. Clumsily playing my part, I stomped to the bathroom to check if they had taken my English toilet water; they had not; but I noticed with a spasm of fierce disgust that the former Counselor of the Tsar, after thoroughly easing his bladder, had not flushed the toilet. That solemn pool of alien urine with a soggy, tawny cigarette butt disintegrating in it struck me as a crowning insult, and I wildly looked around for a weapon. Actually I daresay it was nothing but middle-class Russian courtesy (with an oriental tang, perhaps) that had prompted the good colonel (Maximovich! his name suddenly taxies back to me), a very formal person as they all are, to muffle his private need in decorous silence so as not to underscore the small size of his host’s domicile with the rush of a gross cascade on top of his own hushed trickle. But this did not enter my mind at the moment, as groaning with rage I ransacked the kitchen for something better than a broom. Then, canceling my search, I dashed out of the house with the heroic decision of attacking him barefisted; despite my natural vigor, I am no pugilist, while the short but broad-shouldered Maximovich seemed made of pig iron. The void of the street, revealing nothing of my wife’s departure except a rhinestone button that she had dropped in the mud after preserving it for three unnecessary years in a broken box, may have spared me a bloody nose. But no matter. I had my little revenge in due time. A man from Pasadena told me one day that Mrs. Maximovich née Zborovski had died in childbirth around 1945; the couple had somehow got over to California and had been used there, for an excellent salary, in a year-long experiment conducted by a distinguished American ethnologist. The experiment dealt with human and racial reactions to a diet of bananas and dates in a constant position on all fours. My informant, a doctor, swore he had seen with his own eyes obese Valechka and her colonel, by then gray-haired and also quite corpulent, diligently crawling about the well-swept floors of a brightly lit set of rooms (fruit in one, water in another, mats in a third and so on) in the company of several other hired quadrupeds, selected from indigent and helpless groups. I tried to find the results of these tests in the Review of Anthropology ; but they appear not to have been published yet. These scientific products take of course some time to fructuate. I hope they will be illustrated with photographs when they do get printed, although it is not very likely that a prison library will harbor such erudite works. The one to which I am restricted these days, despite my lawyer’s favors, is a good example of the inane eclecticism governing the selection of books in prison libraries. They have the Bible, of course, and Dickens (an ancient set, N. Y., G. W. Dillingham, Publisher, MDCCCLXXXVII); and the Children’s Encyclopedia (with some nice photographs of sunshine-haired Girl Scouts in shorts), and A Murder Is Announced by Agatha Christie; but they also have such coruscating trifles as A vagabond in Italy by Percy Elphinstone, author of Venice Revisited, Boston, 1868, and a comparatively recent (1946) Who’s Who in the Limelight actors, producers, playwrights, and shots of static scenes. In looking through the latter volume, I was treated last night to one of those dazzling coincidences that logicians loathe and poets love. I transcribe most of the page:
Pym, Roland. Born in Lundy, Mass., 1922. Received stage training at Elsinore Playhouse, Derby, N. Y. Made debut in Sunburst . Among his many appearances are Two Blocks from Here, The Girl in Green, Scrambled Husbands, The Strange Mushroom, Touch and Go, John Lovely, I Was Dreaming of You.
Quilty, Clare, American dramatist. Born in Ocean City, N. J., 1911. Educated at Columbia University. Started on a commercial career but turned to playwriting. Author of The Little Nymph, The Lady Who Loved Lightning (in collaboration with Vivian Darkbloom), Dark Age, The strange Mushroom, Fatherly Love, and others. His many plays for children are notable. Little Nymph (1940) traveled 14,000 miles and played 280 performances on the road during the winter before ending in New York. Hobbies: fast cars, photography, pets.
Quine, Dolores. Born in 1882, in Dayton, Ohio. Studied for stage at American Academy. First played in Ottawa in 1900. Made New York debut in 1904 in Never Talk to Strangers. Has disappeared since in [a list of some thirty plays follows].
How the look of my dear love’s name even affixed to some old hag of an actress, still makes me rock with helpless pain! Perhaps, she might have been an actress too. Born 1935. Appeared (I notice the slip of my pen in the preceding paragraph, but please do not correct it, Clarence) in The Murdered Playwright. Quine the Swine. Guilty of killing Quilty. Oh, my Lolita, I have only words to play with! (1.8)
In his reminiscences Moy dyadya - Pushkin. Iz semeynoy khroniki ("My Uncle Pushkin. From the Family Chronicle") Lev Pavlishchev (the son of the poet's sister Olga Sergeyvna) mentions Pushkin's words (as quoted by his mother) to Baron van Heeckeren (d'Anthès' adoptive father) Tu la recevras gredin (you will yet receive your due, scoundrel):
Привожу следующие слова моей матери:
«Брат среди этих обстоятельств потерял терпение, почему и сделал ряд ошибок, не сообразив, что если он разрубит Гордиев узел трагической историей, то, как бы она ни кончилась – пострадает, в конце концов, им же обожаемая Наташа: всякий мерзавец сочтет себя вправе кинуть в нее камнем.
Предложениями Дантеса заключить мир следовало брату непременно воспользоваться, но сказать притом Дантесу: «Мирюсь с вами, только под честным вашим словом вести себя по отношению к жене моей, следовательно, и ко мне, – так, а не иначе». Дантес дал бы и сдержал слово: ведь он же не был абсолютным негодяем.
Оскорбление, нанесенное братом седовласому Геккерену-отцу, – брат бросил старику едва ли не в лицо примирительное письмо Дантеса, с площадным ругательством: «Tu la recevras gredin» – шло вразрез с чувством самоуважения и даже с добрым сердцем.
Эта соблазнительная, почти уличная сцена в доме и в присутствии почтенной дамы, г-жи Загряжской, не могла не оскорбить добрейшую, гостеприимную хозяйку.
Обида была нанесена в силу подозрения, будто бы старик Геккерен автор анонимных пасквилей – подозрения, ни на чем не основанного.
Наконец, последовавшее вскоре после того роковое письмо Александра к нему же, старику, – каким бы он там в нравственном отношении ни был, – письмо, порвавшее нить жизни брата, – было просто явлением сверхъестественным, по забвению азбуки приличия и злобе.
После подобного письма все пропало…» (Chapter XXXVIII)
According to Olga Pavlishchev (whose words are quoted by her son), d'Anthès (Pushkin's murderer and brother-in-law) was not an absolute scoundrel. Baron van Heeckeren's adopted son, D'Anthès was his adoptive father's catamite. Humbert is Lolita's adoptive father and lover. Describing his visit to Lolita (now married to Dick Schiller) in Coalmont, Humbert says that Lolita's husband and his one-armed neighbor probably take him to be a viscount:
Arctic blue eyes, black hair, ruddy cheeks, unshaven chin. We shook hands. Discreet Bill, who evidently took pride in working wonders with one hand, brought in the beer cans he had opened. Wanted to withdraw. The exquisite courtesy of simple folks. Was made to stay. A beer ad. In point of fact, I preferred it that way, and so did the Schillers. I switched to the jittery rocker. Avidly munching, Dolly plied me with marshmallows and potato chips. The men looked at her fragile, frileux, diminutive, old-world, youngish but sickly, father in velvet coat and beige vest, maybe a viscount. (2.29)
In the next paragraph of his memoirs Lev Pavlishchev mentions d'Anthès' second, le Vicomte d'Archiac:
Покойного К. К. Данзаса дядя пригласил в секунданты неожиданно, за несколько часов до поединка, при разговоре своем с секундантом противника, виконтом Даршиаком. По словам Ольги Сергеевны, Данзас был так поражен всем происшедшим, на долю его выпало столько поручений, с требованием окончить все через два или три часа, что поневоле он и упустил единственное средство – ниспосылавшееся, казалось, свыше – к спасению жизни, драгоценной для всей России: когда Данзас отправлялся в санях с Пушкиным на место поединка и узнал Наталью Николаевну, ехавшую в экипаже, почему-то не крикнул ее кучеру спасительное – «стой». (Chapter XXXVIII)
In an attempt to save his life, Clare Quilty (the playwright and pornographer who abducted Lolita from the Elphinstone hospital and whom Humbert finally tracked down in his house near Parkington) offers Humbert an old-fashioned rencontre, sword or pistol, in Rio or elsewhere:
“Now look here, Mac,” he said. “You are drunk and I am a sick man. Let us postpone the matter. I need quiet. I have to nurse my impotence. Friends are coming in the afternoon to take me to a game. This pistol-packing farce is becoming a frightful nuisance. We are men of the world, in everything - sex, free verse, marksmanship. If you bear me a grudge, I am ready to make unusual amends. Even an old-fashioned rencontre, sword or pistol, in Rio or elsewhere - is not excluded. My memory and my eloquence are not at their best today, but really, my dear Mr. Humbert, you were not an ideal stepfather, and I did not force your little protégé to join me. It was she made me remove her to a happier home. This house is not as modern as that ranch we shared with dear friends. But it is roomy, cool in summer and winter, and in a word comfortable, so, since I intend retiring to England or Florence forever, I suggest you move in. It is yours, gratis. Under the condition you stop pointing at me that [he swore disgustingly] gun. By the way, I do not know if you care for the bizarre, but if you do, I can offer you, also gratis, as house pet, a rather exciting little freak, a young lady with three breasts, one a dandy, this is a rare and delightful marvel of nature. Now, soyons raisonnables. You will only wound me hideously and then rot in jail while I recuperate in a tropical setting. I promise you, Brewster, you will be happy here, with a magnificent cellar, and all the royalties from my next play - I have not much at the bank right now but I propose to borrow - you know, as the Bard said, with that cold in his head, to borrow and to borrow and to borrow. There are other advantages. We have here a most reliable and bribable charwoman, a Mrs. Vibrissa - curious name - who comes from the village twice a week, alas not today, she has daughters, granddaughters, a thing or two I know about the chief of police makes him my slave. I am a playwright. I have been called the American Maeterlinck. Maeterlinck-Schmetterling, says I. Come on! All this is very humiliating, and I am not sure I am doing the right thing. Never use herculanita with rum. Now drop that pistol like a good fellow. I knew your dear wife slightly. You may use my wardrobe. Oh, another thing - you are going to like this. I have an absolutely unique collection of erotica upstairs. Just to mention one item: the in folio de-luxe Bagration Island - by the explorer and psychoanalyst Melanie Weiss, a remarkable lady, a remarkable work - drop that gun - with photographs of eight hundred and something male organs she examined and measured in 1932 on Bagration, in the Barda Sea, very illuminating graphs, plotted with love under pleasant skies - drop that gun - and moreover I can arrange for you to attend executions, not everybody knows that the chair is painted yellow” (2.35)
In a letter of Jan. 26, 1837, to Pushkin Baron van Heeckeren says that cette rencontre (Pushkin's duel with d'Anthès) ne souffre aucun délai (should take place without delay):
Monsieur
Ne connaissant ni votre écriture ni votre signature, j’ai recours à Monsieur le Vicomte d’Archiac, qui vous remettra la présente pour constater que la lettre à laquelle je réponds, vient de vous. Son contenu est tellement hors de toutes les bornes du possible que je me refuse à répondre à tous les détails de cet épître. Vous paraissez avoir oublié Monsieur, que c’est vous qui vous êtes dedit de la provocation, que vous aviez fait adresser au Baron Georges de Heeckeren et qui avait été acceptée par lui. La preuve de ce que j’avance ici existe, écrite de votre main, et est restée entre les mains des seconds. Il ne me reste qu’à vous prévenir que Monsieur le Vicomte d’Archiac se rend chez vous pour convenir avec vous du lieu où vous vous rencontrerez avec le Baron Georges de Heeckeren et à vous prévenir que cette rencontre ne souffre aucun délai.
Je saurai plus tard, Monsieur, vous faire apprécier le respect du au Caractère dont je suis révêtu et qu’aucune démarche de votre part ne saurait atteindre.
Je suis
Monsieur
Votre très humble serviteur
B. de Heeckeren.
One of Humbert's great-grandparents was an expert in paleopedology:
I was born in 1910, in Paris. My father was a gentle, easy-going person, a salad of racial genes: a Swiss citizen, of mixed French and Austrian descent, with a dash of the Danube in his veins. I am going to pass around in a minute some lovely, glossy-blue picture-postcards. He owned a luxurious hotel on the Riviera. His father and two grandfathers had sold wine, jewels and silk, respectively. At thirty he married an English girl, daughter of Jerome Dunn, the alpinist, and granddaughter of two Dorset parsons, experts in obscure subjects - paleopedology and Aeolian harps, respectively. My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three, and, save for a pocket of warmth in the darkest past, nothing of her subsists within the hollows and dells of memory, over which, if you can still stand my style (I am writing under observation), the sun of my infancy had set: surely, you all know those redolent remnants of day suspended, with the midges, about some hedge in bloom or suddenly entered and traversed by the rambler, at the bottom of a hill, in the summer dusk; a furry warmth, golden midges. (1.2)
Paleopedology is the scientific discipline focused on the study of ancient soils, also known as paleosols or buried soils. Adolphe d'Archiac (1802-68) was a French geologist and paleontologist. Like d'Anthès, he was educated at the Military School of St. Cyr. D'Anthès' second (and first cousin), Olivier d'Archiac (1811-48) was a French diplomat at the French embassy in St. Petersburg. VN's uncle Konstantin Dmitrievich Nabokov (1872-1927) worked as counselor of the Russian Embassy in London from December 15, 1915, to January 17, 1917, before advancing to the position of chargé d'affaires. He is the author of an English translation of Pushkin's Boris Godunov (1825). Gaston Godin (Humbert's friend and chess partner at Beardsley) brings to mind Godunov. Boris Godunov is an opera by Modet Mussorgsky (1839-81). Le Fantôme de l'Opéra (The Phantom of the Opera, 1909) is a novel by Gaston Leroux. The Phantom of the Opera is a 1925 American silent horror film adaptation of Leroux's novel directed by Rupert Julian and starring Lon Chaney in the title role of the deformed Phantom who haunts the Paris Opera House, causing murder and mayhem in an attempt to make the woman he loves a star. In his poem "Wanted" composed in a madhouse after Lolita was abducted from him Humbert mentions un air froid d’opéra (a cold air of the opera):
L’autre soir un air froid d’opéra m’alita:
Son félé - bien fol est qui s’y fie!
Il neige, le décor s’écroule, Lolita!
Lolita, qu’ai-je fait de ta vie? (2.25)
L’autre soir (the other night) and m’alita (put her to bed) brings to mind Vcherashniy rab, tatarin, zyat' Malyuty, zyat' palacha i sam v dushe palach (yesterday's slave, a Tartar, Malyuta's son-in-law, the son-in-law of an executioner and himself an executioner at heart), as in Pushkin's drama Prince Shuyski calls Boris Godunov. Grigory Lukyanovich Skuratov-Belski, better known as Malyuta Skuratov (? – January 1, 1573) was one of the leaders of the Oprichnina during the reign of Ivan the Terrible (who died while playing chess). Malyuta Skuratov was killed during the siege of Weissenstein (present-day Paide in Estonia) in the Livonian War on January 1, 1573. Dolores Haze was born on January 1, 1935, in Pisky. The name of Lolita's hometown seems to hint at the zodiacal constellation Pisces. VN's brother Sergey who perished in a German concentration camp was born on March 12, 1900, under the sign of Pisces.