Describing his performance in variety shows as Mascodagama (Van's stage name), Van Veen (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Ada, 1969) mentions his partner Rita, a Crimean cabaret dancer who sang the tango tune in Russian:
Neither was the sheer physical pleasure of maniambulation a negligible factor, and the peacock blotches with which the carpet stained the palms of his hands during his gloveless dance routine seemed to be the reflections of a richly colored nether world that he had been the first to discover. For the tango, which completed his number on his last tour, he was given a partner, a Crimean cabaret dancer in a very short scintillating frock cut very low on the back. She sang the tango tune in Russian:
Pod znóynïm nébom Argentínï,
Pod strástnïy góvor mandolinï
‘Neath sultry sky of Argentina,
To the hot hum of mandolina
Fragile, red-haired ‘Rita’ (he never learned her real name), a pretty Karaite from Chufut Kale, where, she nostalgically said, the Crimean cornel, kizil’, bloomed yellow among the arid rocks, bore an odd resemblance to Lucette as she was to look ten years later. During their dance, all Van saw of her were her silver slippers turning and marching nimbly in rhythm with the soles of his hands. He recouped himself at rehearsals, and one night asked her for an assignation. She indignantly refused, saying she adored her husband (the make-up fellow) and loathed England. (1.30)
An American movie actress, Rita Hayworth (Margarita Carmen Cansino, 1918-87) was born in Brooklyn, New York, the oldest child of two dancers. Her father, Eduardo Cansino, was of Spanish Roma/Gitano descent from Castilleja de la Cuesta, a little town near Seville, Spain. Her mother, Volga Margaret Hayworth (1897-1945), was an American dancer and vaudevillian of Irish and English descent who had performed with the Ziegfeld Follies. Rita Hayworth used her mother's maiden name as her professional surname. Rita' mother, Volga Hayworth brings to mind the Volga region and similar watersheds mentioned by Van when he describes his novel Letters from Terra:
On Terra, Theresa had been a Roving Reporter for an American magazine, thus giving Van the opportunity to describe the sibling planet’s political aspect. This aspect gave him the least trouble, presenting as it did a mosaic of painstakingly collated notes from his own reports on the ‘transcendental delirium’ of his patients. Its acoustics were poor, proper names often came out garbled, a chaotic calendar messed up the order of events but, on the whole, the colored dots did form a geomantic picture of sorts. As earlier experimentators had conjectured, our annals lagged by about half a century behind Terra’s along the bridges of time, but overtook some of its underwater currents. At the moment of our sorry story, the king of Terra’s England, yet another George (there had been, apparently, at least half-a-dozen bearing that name before him) ruled, or had just ceased to rule, over an empire that was somewhat patchier (with alien blanks and blots between the British Islands and South Africa) than the solidly conglomerated one on our Antiterra. Western Europe presented a particularly glaring gap: ever since the eighteenth century, when a virtually bloodless revolution had dethroned the Capetians and repelled all invaders, Terra’s France flourished under a couple of emperors and a series of bourgeois presidents, of whom the present one, Doumercy, seemed considerably more lovable than Milord Goal, Governor of Lute! Eastward, instead of Khan Sosso and his ruthless Sovietnamur Khanate, a super Russia, dominating the Volga region and similar watersheds, was governed by a Sovereign Society of Solicitous Republics (or so it came through) which had superseded the Tsars, conquerors of Tartary and Trst. Last but not least, Athaulf the Future, a fair-haired giant in a natty uniform, the secret flame of many a British nobleman, honorary captain of the French police, and benevolent ally of Rus and Rome, was said to be in the act of transforming a gingerbread Germany into a great country of speedways, immaculate soldiers, brass bands and modernized barracks for misfits and their young. (2.2)
On Demonia (Earth's twin planet also known as Antiterra) Joseph Stalin (1878-1953) is represented by Khan Sosso (Soso Dzhugashvili is Stalin's Georgian name) and Colonel St. Alin, a scoundrel (one of the two seconds in Demon Veen's sword duel with Baron d'Onsky). Describing the family dinner in "Ardis the Second," Van mentions Richard Leonard Churchill's novel about a certain Crimean Khan:
Alas, the bird had not survived ‘the honor one had made to it,’ and after a brief consultation with Bouteillan a somewhat incongruous but highly palatable bit of saucisson d’Arles added itself to the young lady’s fare of asperges en branches that everybody was now enjoying. It almost awed one to see the pleasure with which she and Demon distorted their shiny-lipped mouths in exactly the same way to introduce orally from some heavenly height the voluptuous ally of the prim lily of the valley, holding the shaft with an identical bunching of the fingers, not unlike the reformed ‘sign of the cross’ for protesting against which (a ridiculous little schism measuring an inch or so from thumb to index) so many Russians had been burnt by other Russians only two centuries earlier on the banks of the Great Lake of Slaves. Van remembered that his tutor’s great friend, the learned but prudish Semyon Afanasievich Vengerov, then a young associate professor but already a celebrated Pushkinist (1855–1954), used to say that the only vulgar passage in his author’s work was the cannibal joy of young gourmets tearing ‘plump and live’ oysters out of their ‘cloisters’ in an unfinished canto of Eugene Onegin. But then ‘everyone has his own taste,’ as the British writer Richard Leonard Churchill mistranslates a trite French phrase (chacun à son gout) twice in the course of his novel about a certain Crimean Khan once popular with reporters and politicians, ‘A Great Good Man’ — according, of course, to the cattish and prejudiced Guillaume Monparnasse about whose new celebrity Ada, while dipping the reversed corolla of one hand in a bowl, was now telling Demon, who was performing the same rite in the same graceful fashion. (1.38)
Darkbloom (‘Notes to Ada’): Great good man: a phrase that Winston Churchill, the British politician, enthusiastically applied to Stalin.
Before the family dinner Van tells Demon (Van's and Ada's father) that he is resting after his torrid affair, in London, with his tango-partner:
‘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?’
‘Well, sir —’
(Tell him I’m the youngest Venutian? Does he belong, too? Show the sign? Better not. Invent.)
‘— Well, I’m resting after my torrid affair, in London, with my tango-partner whom you saw me dance with when you flew over for that last show — remember?’
‘Indeed, I do. Curious, you calling it that.’
‘I think, sir, you’ve had enough brandy.’ (1.38)
In 1940 Van's novel Letters from Terra (1892) was made into a film by Victor Vitry, a brilliant French director. Ada played the gitanilla in Don Juan's Last Fling, Yuzlik's movie that Van and Lucette (Van's and Ada's half-sister) watch in the Tobakoff cinema hall. The gitanilla is a Gypsy girl. Rita Hayworth's father was a Gypsy. The surname Hayworth makes one think of a bundle of hay, as in a letter of June 22, 1821, to Thomas Moore Byron calls the world:
The world is a bundle of hay,
Mankind are the asses who pull;
Each tugs it a different way,
And the greatest of all is John Bull!
Small wonder that Rita (Van's partner) loathes England. Hitler attacked Russia on June 22, 1941, one hundred and twenty years, day for day, after Byron wrote his letter to Moore. A major battle on the Eastern Front of World War II was the Battle of Stalingrad (17 July 1942 – 2 February 1943). In 1961 Stalingrad (prior to 1925 Tsaritsyn) was renamed Volgograd, after the river that flows in it.
Angliterra. Inglaterra
Of some interest: in Medieval Latin, Angliterra is the land inhabited by the Angles, England; Inglaterra, the same in Portuguese, since Argentina is mentioned. Fishing, angling being fishing, runs throughout Ada from even its first chapter, a novel largely about famous novels, set in the fantastic alternate universe Antiterra, many of whose inhabitants long for Terra.
Volga rhymes with Olga. Olga [1773-1814], of Sofia Temnosiniy, marries Erasmus Veen. The name is of Slavic origin, equivalent to Helga, and derives from Scandinavian settlers.
Arda, be it known, is another name for Tolkien's Middle-Earth.
Olga Veen & Peter Zemski
Olga Veen, born Zemski, died in 1814, the year when Byron wrote Ode to Napoleon Buonoparte. On Demonia (Earth's twin planet also known as Antiterra) England annexed France in 1815:
The novelistic theme of written communications has now really got into its stride. When Van went up to his room he noticed, with a shock of grim premonition, a slip of paper sticking out of the heart pocket of his dinner jacket. Penciled in a large hand, with the contour of every letter deliberately whiffled and rippled, was the anonymous injunction: ‘One must not berne you.’ Only a French-speaking person would use that word for ‘dupe.’ Among the servants, fifteen at least were of French extraction — descendants of immigrants who had settled in America after England had annexed their beautiful and unfortunate country in 1815. To interview them all — torture the males, rape the females — would be, of course, absurd and degrading. With a puerile wrench he broke his best black butterfly on the wheel of his exasperation. The pain from the fang bite was now reaching his heart. He found another tie, finished dressing and went to look for Ada. (1.40)
1815 is the year of the Battle of Waterloo. In 1824 Peter Zemski (Olga's elder brother, Governor of Bras d'Or, 1772-1832) married Mary O'Reilly. 1824 is the year of Byron's death. In his poem K Moryu ("To the Sea," 1824) Pushkin pairs Byron with Napoleon (who died on St. Helena in 1821). The sea is Demon Veen's "dark-blue great-grandmother" (an allusion to Princess Sofia Temnosiniy, 1755-1809, the mother of Peter Zemski and Olga Veen). In 1770 Princess Sofia Temnosiniy married Prince Vseslav Zemski (Ada's favorite ancestor):
They went back to the corridor, she tossing her hair, he clearing his throat. Further down, a door of some playroom or nursery stood ajar and stirred to and fro as little Lucette peeped out, one russet knee showing. Then the doorleaf flew open — but she darted inside and away. Cobalt sailing boats adorned the white tiles of a stove, and as her sister and he passed by that open door a toy barrel organ invitingly went into action with a stumbling little minuet. Ada and Van returned to the ground floor — this time all the way down the sumptuous staircase. Of the many ancestors along the wall, she pointed out her favorite, old Prince Vseslav Zemski (1699-1797), friend of Linnaeus and author of Flora Ladorica, who was portrayed in rich oil holding his barely pubescent bride and her blond doll in his satin lap. An enlarged photograph, soberly framed, hung (rather incongruously, Van thought) next to the rose-bud-lover in his embroidered coat. The late Sumerechnikov, American precursor of the Lumière brothers, had taken Ada’s maternal uncle in profile with upcheeked violin, a doomed youth, after his farewell concert. (1.6)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): Sumerechnikov: the name is derived from ‘sumerki’ (‘dusk’ in Russian).
V sumerkakh ("In the Twilight," 1887) is the third collection of Chekhov's short stories. Chekhov is the author of Doch' Al'biona ("A Daughter of Albion," 1883), a story about the imperturbable English governess of an unceremonious Russian landowner's children. In 1901 Chekhov married Olga Knipper (a leading actress of the Moscow Art Theater). Flora Lapponica (Amsterdam, 1737) is an account of the plants of Lapland written by botanist, zoologist and naturalist Carl Linnaeus (1707-88) following his expedition to Lapland. Pushkin's poem To the Sea begins with the line Proshchay, svobodnaya stikhiya! ("Farewell, free element!"):
Прощай, свободная стихия!
В последний раз передо мной
Ты катишь волны голубые
И блещешь гордою красой.
Как друга ропот заунывный,
Как зов его в прощальный час,
Твой грустный шум, твой шум призывный
Услышал я в последний раз.
Unfettered element! Farewell
Before me now one final time
You roll again that skyblue swell,
And sparkle with a pride sublime.
Like an old friend's regretful sigh,
Like calls of fare-you-well through tears,
Your summoning sound, your sounding cry,
One final time now fills my ears.
(tr. A. Z. Foreman)
Three elements, fire, water, and air, destroy Marina (Van's, Ada's and Lucette's mother), Lucette (Van's and Ada's half-sister) and Demon (Van's and Ada's father):
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.
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.
"Naperekor (in spite of) Dasha Vinelander" (Ada's sister-in-law) brings to mind Rassudku vopreki, naperekor stikhiyam (Contrary to common sense, in spite of the elements), Chatski's words to Famusov in Griboedov’s play in verse Gore ot uma (“Woe from Wit,” 1824):
Пускай меня отъявят старовером,
Но хуже для меня наш Север во сто крат
С тех пор, как отдал всё в обмен на новый лад, —
И нравы, и язык, и старину святую,
И величавую одежду на другую —
По шутовскому образцу:
Хвост сзади, спереди какой-то чудный выем,
Рассудку вопреки, наперекор стихиям,
Движенья связаны, и не краса лицу;
Смешные, бритые, седые подбородки!
Как платья, волосы, так и умы коротки!..
I may be called an old-believer, yet I think
Our North is worse a hundredfold
Since it adopted the new mode,
Having abandoned everything:
Our customs and our conditions,
The language, moral values and traditions,
And, in exchange of the grand gown,
Regardless of all trends
And common sense,
We put on this apparel of a clown:
A tail, a funny cut - oh, what a scene!
It's tight and doesn't match the face;
This funny, grey-haired shaven chin!
'Which covers thee discovers thee!'- there's a phrase.
(Act Three, scene 22; transl. A. Vagapov)