According to Dorothy Vinelander (in VN's novel Ada, 1969, Ada's sister-in-law), Demon Veen (Van's and Ada's father who in March 1905 perishes in a mysterious airplane disaster above the Pacific) resembled a Russian aristocrat much more than he did an Irish Baron:
The madhouse babble reverted to Lucette’s bank accounts, Ivan Dementievich explained that she had been mislaying one checkbook after another, and nobody knew exactly in how many different banks she had dumped considerable amounts of money. Presently, Andrey who now looked like the livid Yukonsk mayor after opening the Catkin Week Fair or fighting a Forest Fire with a new type of extinguisher, grunted out of his chair, excused himself for going to bed so early, and shook hands with Van as if they were parting forever (which, indeed, they were). Van remained with the two ladies in the cold and deserted lounge where a thrifty subtraction of faraday-light had imperceptibly taken place.
‘How did you like my brother?’ asked Dorothy. ‘On redchayshiy chelovek (he’s, a most rare human being). I can’t tell you how profoundly affected he was by the terrible death of your father, and, of course, by Lucette’s bizarre end. Even he, the kindest of men, could not help disapproving of her Parisian sans-gêne, but he greatly admired her looks — as I think you also did — no, no, do not negate it! — because, as I have always said, her prettiness seemed to complement Ada’s, the two halves forming together something like perfect beauty, in the Platonic sense’ (that cheerless smile again). ‘Ada is certainly a "perfect beauty," a real muirninochka — even when she winces like that — but she is beautiful only in our little human terms, within the quotes of our social esthetics — right, Professor? — in the way a meal or a marriage or a little French tramp can be called perfect.’
‘Drop her a curtsey,’ gloomily remarked Van to Ada.
‘Oh, my Adochka knows how devoted I am to her’ — (opening her palm in the wake of Ada’s retreating hand). ‘I’ve shared all her troubles. How many podzharïh (tight-crotched) cowboys we’ve had to fire because they delali ey glazki (ogled her)! And how many bereavements we’ve gone through since the new century started! Her mother and my mother; the Archbishop of Ivankover and Dr Swissair of Lumbago (where mother and I reverently visited him in 1888); three distinguished uncles (whom, fortunately, I hardly knew); and your father, who, I’ve always maintained, resembled a Russian aristocrat much more than he did an Irish Baron. Incidentally, in her deathbed delirium — you don’t mind, Ada, if I divulge to him ces potins de famille? — our splendid Marina was obsessed by two delusions, which mutually excluded each other — that you were married to Ada and that you and she were brother and sister, and the clash between those two ideas caused her intense mental anguish. How does your school of psychiatry explain that kind of conflict?’
‘I don’t attend school any longer,’ said Van, stifling a yawn; ‘and, furthermore, in my works, I try not to "explain" anything, I merely describe.’
‘Still, you cannot deny that certain insights —’
It went on and on like that for more than an hour and Van’s clenched jaws began to ache. Finally, Ada got up, and Dorothy followed suit but continued to speak standing:
‘Tomorrow dear Aunt Beloskunski-Belokonski is coming to dinner, a delightful old spinster, who lives in a villa above Valvey. Terriblement grande dame et tout ça. Elle aime taquiner Andryusha en disant qu’un simple cultivateur comme lui n’aurait pas dû épouser la fille d’une actrice et d’un marchand de tableaux. Would you care to join us — Jean?’
Jean replied: ‘Alas, no, dear Daria Andrevna: Je dois "surveiller les kilos." Besides, I have a business dinner tomorrow.’
‘At least’ — (smiling) — ‘you could call me Dasha.’
‘I do it for Andrey,’ explained Ada, ‘actually the grand’ dame in question is a vulgar old skunk.’
‘Ada!’ uttered Dasha with a look of gentle reproof. (3.8)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): muirninochka: Hiberno-Russian caressive term.
potins de famille: family gossip.
terriblement etc.: terribly grand and all that, she likes to tease him by saying that a simple farmer like him should not have married the daughter of an actress and an art dealer.
je dois etc.: I must watch my weight.
In his poem Moya Rodoslovnaya ("My Pedigree," 1830) Pushkin says that his colleagues chide him with name of aristocrat:
Смеясь жестоко над собратом,
Писаки русские толпой
Меня зовут аристократом.
Смотри, пожалуй, вздор какой!
Не офицер я, не асессор,
Я по кресту не дворянин,
Не академик, не профессор;
Я просто русский мещанин.
With scorning laughter at a fellow writer,
In a chorus the Russian scribes
With name of aristocrat me chide:
Look, what perfect nonsense it is!
I'm not an officer, nor an assessor,
Nor am I nobleman by cross;
No academician, nor professor,
I'm simply a Russian burgher.
Smotri, pozhaluy, vzdor kakoy! (Look, what perfect nonsense it is!) makes one think of Dorothy Vinelander. In his essay Poslednie dni zhizni i konchina A. S. Pushkina. So slov byvshego ego litseyskogo tovarishcha i sekundanta K. K. Danzasa ("The Last Days of Life and the Death of A. S. Pushkin. According to the Words of his Former Lyceum Comrade and Second K. K. Danzas," 1863) A. N. Ammosov says that the ancestors of Baron d'Anthès (Pushkin's adversary in the poet's fatal duel) came from Ireland:
Барон Дантес был французский подданный, хотя предки его происходили из Ирландии. Служа уже во Франции, отец его получил от Наполеона I титул барона. Снабженный множеством рекомендательных писем, молодой Дантес приехал в Россию с намерением вступить в нашу военную службу. В числе этих писем было одно к графине Фикельмон, пользовавшейся особенным расположением покойной императрицы. Этой-то даме Дантес обязан началом своих успехов в России. На одном из своих вечеров она представила его государыне, и Дантес имел счастье обратить на себя внимание ее величества. Счастливый случай покровительствовал Дантесу в представлении его покойному императору Николаю Павловичу. Как известно Данзасу, это произошло следующим образом.
В то время в Петербурге был известный баталический живописец Ладюрнер (Ladurnère), соотечественник Дантеса. Покойный государь посещал иногда его мастерскую, находившуюся в Эрмитаже, и в одно из своих посещений, увидя на полотне художника несколько эскизов, изображавших фигуру Людовика Филиппа, спросил Ладюрнера:
— Est-ce que c’est vous, par hasard, qui vous amusez à faire ces choses là?
— Non, sire! — отвечал Ладюрнер. — C’est un de mes compatriotes, légitimiste comme moi, m-r Dantess.
— Ah! Dantess, mais je le connais, l’impératrice m’en a déjà parlé, — сказал государь и пожелал его видеть.
Ладюрнер вытащил Дантеса из-за ширм, куда последний спрятался при входе государя.
Государь милостиво начал с ним разговаривать, и Дантес, пользуясь случаем, тут же просил государя позволить ему вступить в русскую военную службу. Государь изъявил согласие. Императрице было угодно, чтобы Дантес служил в ее полку, и, несмотря на дурно выдержанный экзамен, Дантес был принят в Кавалергардский полк, прямо офицером, и, во внимание к его бедности, государь назначил ему от себя ежегодное негласное пособие.
Имея счастливую способность нравиться, Дантес до такой степени приобрел себе любовь бывшего тогда в Петербурге голландского посланника барона Гекерена (Heckerene), человека весьма богатого, что тот, будучи бездетен, усыновил Дантеса, с тем единственным условием, чтобы последний принял его фамилию.
По поводу принятия Дантесом фамилии Гекерена кто-то, в шутку, распустил тогда в городе слух, будто солдаты Кавалергардского полка, коверкая фамилии — Дантес и Гекерен, говорили: «Что это сделалось с нашим поручиком, был дантист, а теперь вдруг стал лекарем».
Дантес пользовался очень хорошей репутацией и, по мнению Данзаса, заслуживал ее вполне, если не ставить ему в упрек фатовство и слабость хвастать своими успехами у женщин. Но не так благоприятно отзывается Константин Карлович о господине Гекерене: по словам его, барон был человек замечательно безнравственный.
In his essay Ammosov mentions Prince B. (who took Pushkin's side in the conflict) and his wife, Princess B. (who supported d'Anthès):
На стороне барона Гекерена и Дантеса был, между прочим, и покойный граф Бенкендорф, не любивший Пушкина. Одним только этим нерасположением, говорит Данзас, и можно объяснить, что дуэль Пушкина не была остановлена полицией. Жандармы были посланы, как он слышал, в Екатерингоф, будто бы по ошибке, думая, что дуэль должна была происходить там, а она была за Черной речкой около Комендантской дачи...
Пушкин дрался среди белого дня и, так сказать, почти в глазах всех!
Партизаны враждующих сторон разделились весьма странным образом, например: одна часть офицеров Кавалергардского полка, товарищей Дантеса, была за него, другая за Пушкина; князь Б. был за Пушкина, а княгиня, жена его, против Пушкина, за Дантеса, вероятно, по случаю родства своего с графом Бенкендорфом. Замечательно, что почти все те из светских дам, которые были на стороне Гекерена и Дантеса, не отличались блистательною репутациею и не могли служить примером нравственности; в число их Данзас не вмешивает, однако же, княгиню Б.
It is believed that Princess B. mentioned by Ammosov is Princess Elena Pavlovna Beloselski-Belozerski (born Bibikov, 1812-87), the stepdaughter of Count Benckendorf (the Head of the Third Department, secret police of Nicholas I). After the duel she begged indulgence for d'Anthès. Princess Beloselski-Belozerski brings to mind dear Aunt Beloskunski-Belokonski (whom Ada calls "a vulgar old skunk"). After Ada has refused to leave her sick husband, Van dreams of challenging Andrey Vinelander to a duel:
Would she write? Oh, she did! Oh, every old thing turned out superfine! Fancy raced fact in never-ending rivalry and girl giggles. Andrey lived only a few months longer, po pal’tzam (finger counting) one, two, three, four — say, five. Andrey was doing fine by the spring of nineteen six or seven, with a comfortably collapsed lung and a straw-colored beard (nothing like facial vegetation to keep a patient busy). Life forked and reforked. Yes, she told him. He insulted Van on the mauve-painted porch of a Douglas hotel where van was awaiting his Ada in a final version of Les Enfants Maudits. Monsieur de Tobak (an earlier cuckold) and Lord Erminin (a second-time second) witnessed the duel in the company of a few tall yuccas and short cactuses. Vinelander wore a cutaway (he would); Van, a white suit. Neither man wished to take any chances, and both fired simultaneously. Both fell. Mr Cutaway’s bullet struck the outsole of Van’s left shoe (white, black-heeled), tripping him and causing a slight fourmillement (excited ants) in his foot — that was all. Van got his adversary plunk in the underbelly — a serious wound from which he recovered in due time, if at all (here the forking swims in the mist). Actually it was all much duller.
So she did write as she had promised? Oh, yes, yes! In seventeen years he received from her around a hundred brief notes, each containing around one hundred words, making around thirty printed pages of insignificant stuff — mainly about her husband’s health and the local fauna. After helping her to nurse Andrey at Agavia Ranch through a couple of acrimonious years (she begrudged Ada every poor little hour devoted to collecting, mounting, and rearing!), and then taking exception to Ada’s choosing the famous and excellent Grotonovich Clinic (for her husband’s endless periods of treatment) instead of Princess Alashin’s select sanatorium, Dorothy Vinelander retired to a subarctic monastery town (Ilemna, now Novostabia) where eventually she married a Mr Brod or Bred, tender and passionate, dark and handsome, who traveled in eucharistials and other sacramental objects throughout the Severnïya Territorii and who subsequently was to direct, and still may be directing half a century later, archeological reconstructions at Goreloe (the ‘Lyaskan Herculanum’); what treasures he dug up in matrimony is another question.
Steadily but very slowly Andrey’s condition kept deteriorating. During his last two or three years of idle existence on various articulated couches, whose every plane could be altered in hundreds of ways, he lost the power of speech, though still able to nod or shake his head, frown in concentration, or faintly smile when inhaling the smell of food (the origin, indeed, of our first beatitudes). He died one spring night, alone in a hospital room, and that same summer (1922) his widow donated her collections to a National Park museum and traveled by air to Switzerland for an ‘exploratory interview’ with fifty-two-year-old Van Veen. (3.8)
A Mr Brod or Bred brings to mind Krymskiy Brod (the Crimean Ford Bridge across the Moskva river) mentioned by Tolstoy in his novel Voina i mir (“War and Peace,” 1869):
Войска Даву, к которым принадлежали пленные, шли через Крымский брод и уже отчасти вступали в Калужскую улицу. Но обозы так растянулись, что последние обозы Богарне ещё не вышли из Москвы в Калужскую улицу, а голова войск Нея уже выходила из Большой Ордынки.
Davoust's troops, in whose charge the prisoners were, had crossed the Krymskyi Brod, or Crimean Ford Bridge, and already some of the divisions were debouching into Kaluga Street. But the teams stretched out so endlessly that the last ones belonging to Beauharnais's division had not yet left Moscow to enter Kaluga Street, while the head of Ney's troops had already left Bolshaya Ordynka. (Part IV, chapter XIV)
Leo Tolstoy's favorite dog Dorka (after whom Laska, Lyovin's dog in Anna Karenin, was modeled) was a yellow Irish setter. Like people, dogs have pedigrees. The grandparents of Box II, the Nabokovs' dachshund that followed its masters into exile, were Dr Anton Chekhov's Quina and Brom. Van's conversation at table with Ada, her husband and her sister-in-law is a parody of Chekhov's mannerisms:
During that dismal dinner (enlivened only by the sharlott and five bottles of Moët, out of which Van consumed more than three), he avoided looking at that part of Ada which is called ‘the face’ — a vivid, divine, mysteriously shocking part, which, in that essential form, is rarely met with among human beings (pasty and warty marks do not count). Ada on the other hand could not help her dark eyes from turning to him every other moment, as if, with each glance, she regained her balance; but when the company went back to the lounge and finished their coffee there, difficulties of focalization began to beset Van, whose points de repère disastrously decreased after the three cinematists had left.
ANDREY: Adochka, dushka (darling), razskazhi zhe pro rancho, pro skot (tell about the ranch, the cattle), emu zhe lyubopïtno (it cannot fail to interest him).
ADA (as if coming out of a trance): O chyom tï (you were saying something)?
ANDREY: Ya govoryu, razskazhi emu pro tvoyo zhit’yo bït’yo (I was saying, tell him about your daily life, your habitual existence). Avos’ zaglyanet k nam (maybe he’d look us up).
ADA: Ostav’, chto tam interesnago (what’s so interesting about it)?
DASHA (turning to Ivan): Don’t listen to her. Massa interesnago (heaps of interesting stuff). Delo brata ogromnoe, volnuyushchee delo, trebuyushchee ne men’she truda, chem uchyonaya dissertatsiya (his business is a big thing, quite as demanding as a scholar’s). Nashi sel’skohozyaystvennïya mashinï i ih teni (our agricultural machines and their shadows) — eto tselaya kollektsiya predmetov modernoy skul’pturï i zhivopisi (is a veritable collection of modern art) which I suspect you adore as I do.
IVAN (to Andrey): I know nothing about farming but thanks all the same.
(A pause.)
IVAN (not quite knowing what to add): Yes, I would certainly like to see your machinery some day. Those things always remind me of long-necked prehistoric monsters, sort of grazing here and there, you know, or just brooding over the sorrows of extinction — but perhaps I’m thinking of excavators —
DOROTHY: Andrey’s machinery is anything but prehistoric! (laughs cheerlessly).
ANDREY: Slovom, milosti prosim (anyway, you are most welcome). Budete zharit’ verhom s kuzinoy (you’ll have a rollicking time riding on horseback with your cousin).
(Pause.)
IVAN (to Ada): Half-past nine tomorrow morning won’t be too early for you? I’m at the Trois Cygnes. I’ll come to fetch you in my tiny car — not on horseback (smiles like a corpse at Andrey).
DASHA: Dovol’no skuchno (rather a pity) that Ada’s visit to lovely Lake Leman need be spoiled by sessions with lawyers and bankers. I’m sure you can satisfy most of those needs by having her come a few times chez vous and not to Luzon or Geneva. (3.8)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): (a pause): This and the whole conversation parody Chekhov’s mannerisms.
Unlike Pushkin, Tolstoy and Nabokov, Chekhov (whose father and granfather were the serfs of Chertkov, a Voronezh landowner) was not an aristocrat. A close friend of Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910), Vladimir Chertkov (1854-1936) makes one think of Ronald Oranger, old Van's secretary, the editor of Ada. Because love is blind, Van fails to see that Andrey Vinelander and Ada have at least two children and that Ronald Oranger and Violet Knox (old Van's typist whom Ada calls Fialochka, "little Violet," and who marries Ronald Oranger after Van's and Ada's death) are Ada's grandchildren.