According to 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), Jakob Gradus (Shade’s murderer) also appears in police records as Ravus, Ravenstone, and d'Argus:
By an extraordinary coincidence (inherent perhaps in the contrapuntal nature of Shade's art) our poet seems to name here (gradual, gray) a man, whom he was to see for one fatal moment three weeks later, but of whose existence at the time (July 2) he could not have known. Jakob Gradus called himself variously Jack Degree or Jacques de Grey, or James de Gray, and also appears in police records as Ravus, Ravenstone, and d'Argus. Having a morbid affection for the ruddy Russia of the Soviet era, he contended that the real origin of his name should be sought in the Russian word for grape, vinograd, to which a Latin suffix had adhered, making it Vinogradus. His father, Martin Gradus, had been a Protestant minister in Riga, but except for him and a maternal uncle (Roman Tselovalnikov, police officer and part-time member of the Social-Revolutionary party), the whole clan seems to have been in the liquor business. Martin Gradus died in 1920, and his widow moved to Strasbourg where she soon died, too. Another Gradus, an Alsatian merchant, who oddly enough was totally unrelated to our killer but had been a close business friend of his kinsmen for years, adopted the boy and raised him with his own children. It would seem that at one time young Gradus studied pharmacology in Zurich, and at another, traveled to misty vineyards as an itinerant wine taster. We find him next engaging in petty subversive activities - printing peevish pamphlets, acting as messenger for obscure syndicalist groups, organizing strikes at glass factories, and that sort of thing. Sometime in the forties he came to Zembla as a brandy salesman. There he married a publican's daughter. His connection with the Extremist party dates from its first ugly writhings, and when the revolution broke out, his modest organizational gifts found some appreciation in various offices. His departure for Western Europe, with a sordid purpose in his heart and a loaded gun in his pocket, took place on the very day that an innocent poet in an innocent land was beginning Canto Two of Pale Fire. We shall accompany Gradus in constant thought, as he makes his way from distant dim Zembla to green Appalachia, through the entire length of the poem, following the road of its rhythm, riding past in a rhyme, skidding around the corner of a run-on, breathing with the caesura, swinging down to the foot of the page from line to line as from branch to branch, hiding between two words (see note to line 596), reappearing on the horizon of a new canto, steadily marching nearer in iambic motion, crossing streets, moving up with his valise on the escalator of the pentameter, stepping off, boarding a new train of thought, entering the hall of a hotel, putting out the bedlight, while Shade blots out a word, and falling asleep as the poet lays down his pen for the night. (note to Line 17)
Ravus is Latin for "tawny, gray." A ravenstone is a place of execution, akin to gallows. On the other hand, Ravenstone seems to hint at The Raven (1845), a poem by E. A. Poe, and at ravenstvo, Russian for "equality." In his essay Yubiley (“The Anniversary,” 1927) written for the tenth anniversary of the October coup of 1917 VN says that he despises the Communist faith as an idea nizkogo ravenstva (of the low equality), as a dull page in the festive history of mankind:
Я презираю коммунистическую веру как идею низкого равенства, как скучную страницу в праздничной истории человечества, как отрицание земных и неземных красот, как нечто, глупо посягающее на мое свободное «я», как поощрительницу невежества, тупости и самодовольства. Сила моего презрения в том, что я, презирая, не разрешаю себе думать о пролитой крови. И ещё в том его сила, что я не жалею, в буржуазном отчаянии, потери имения, дома, слитка золота, недостаточно ловко спрятанного в недрах ватерклозета. Убийство совершает не идея, а человек,— и с ним расчет особый, — прощу я или не прощу — это вопрос другого порядка. Жажда мести не должна мешать чистоте презрения. Негодование всегда беспомощно.
According to VN, zhazhda mesti (the thirst for revenge) should not interfere with the purity of contempt. Indignation is always helpless. Describing his rented house, Kinbote mentions this or that beast lying in prison and positively dying of raghdirst (thirst for revenge):
But perhaps the funniest note concerned the manipulations of the window curtains which had to be drawn in different ways at different hours to prevent the sun from getting at the upholstery. A description of the position of the sun, daily and seasonal, was given for the several windows, and if I had heeded all this I would have been kept as busy as a participant in a regatta. A footnote, however, generously suggested that instead of manning the curtains, I might prefer to shift and reshift out of sun range the more precious pieces of furniture (two embroidered armchairs and a heavy "royal console") but should do it carefully lest I scratch the wall moldings. I cannot, alas, reproduce the meticulous schedule of these transposals but seem to recall that I was supposed to castle the long way before going to bed and the short way first thing in the morning. My dear Shade roared with laughter when I led him on a tour of inspection and had him find some of those bunny eggs for himself. Thank God, his robust hilarity dissipated the atmosphere of damnum infectum in which I was supposed to dwell. On his part, he regaled me with a number of anecdotes concerning the judge's dry wit and courtroom mannerisms; most of these anecdotes were doubtless folklore exaggerations, a few were evident inventions, and all were harmless. He did not bring up, my sweet old friend never did, ridiculous stories about the terrifying shadows that Judge Goldsworth's gown threw across the underworld, or about this or that beast lying in prison and positively dying of raghdirst (thirst for revenge) - crass banalities circulated by the scurrilous and the heartless - by all those for whom romance, remoteness, sealskin-lined scarlet skies, the darkening dunes of a fabulous kingdom, simply do not exist. But enough of this. Let us turn to our poet's windows. I have no desire to twist and batter an unambiguous apparatus criticus into the monstrous semblance of a novel. (note to Lines 47-48)
In his poem Na smert' poeta ("On the Poet's Death," 1837) Lermontov says that Pushkin died s svintsom v grudi i zhazhdoy mesti (with a bullet in his breast and a thirst for revenge). Raghdirst is a play on Rachedurst (German for "thirst for revenge"). In Conan Doyle’s novel A Study in Scarlet (1887) the murderer (a London cabman) writes with his blood the German word Rache (‘revenge’) on the wall. In Der Hund der Baskervilles, a German version of Conan Doyle’s novel The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902), the phrase “his heart full of malignancy against the whole race” is rendered as “sein Herz voller Rachedurst gegen die ganze menschliche Rasse:”
"Was bedeutet das, Perkins?" fragte Dr. Mortimer.
Unser Fahrer kehrte sich in seinem Sitz zu uns um.
"Ein Sträfling ist aus Princetown ausgebrochen, Sir. Er ist jetzt schon seit drei Tagen auf der Flucht und die Wachen beobachten jede Straße und jeden Bahnhof, aber sie haben noch kein Anzeichen von ihm entdeckt. Die Bauern in der Gegend sind nicht erfreut darüber, und das ist eine Tatsache."
"Nun, soweit ich weiß, bekommen sie fünf Pfund, wenn sie Informationen geben können."
"Ja, Sir, aber was ist die Aussicht auf fünf Pfund im Vergleich zu der Möglichkeit, dass man ihnen die Kehle durchschneidet. Das ist kein gewöhnlicher Sträfling, sondern ein Mann, der vor nichts zurückschreckt."
"Um wen handelt es sich denn?"
"Um Selden, den Mörder von Notting Hill."
Ich erinnerte mich gut an den Fall, denn Holmes hatte daran ein besonderes Interesse gehabt auf Grund der bemerkenswerten Grausamkeit des Verbrechens und der unglaublichen Brutalität des Mörders. Das Todesurteil war in lebenslänglich umgewandelt worden, weil Zweifel an seinem Geisteszustand bestanden hatten, so grauenvoll war sein Vorgehen gewesen. Inzwischen hatte unser Wagen den Hügel erklommen, und vor uns erstreckte sich die unendliche Weite des Moores, in der sich hier und da wüste Steinhaufen oder turmartige Felsblöcke erhoben. Ein kalter Wind fegte über die Ebene hinweg und ließ uns erschauern. Irgendwo dort draußen, in dieser öden Landschaft, lauerte dieser teuflische Unhold, verbarg sich in einer Höhle wie ein wildes Tier, sein Herz voller Rachedurst gegen die ganze menschliche Rasse, die ihn ausgestoßen hatte. Diese Vorstellung hatte mir gerade noch gefehlt zu dem düsteren Eindruck, den diese dürre Einöde, der eisige Wind und der immer dunkler werdende Himmel auf mich machten. Selbst Baskerville war still geworden und vergrub sich tiefer in seinen Mantel.
"What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer.
Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact."
"Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information."
"Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing."
"Who is he, then?"
"It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer."
I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. (Chapter 6: “Baskerville Hall”)
In Conan Doyle's novel Jack Stapleton (the antagonist) drowns in the Grimpen Mire. In Canto Two of Shade's poem the poet's daughter asks her mother what grimpen means:
She was my darling - difficult, morose -
But still my darling. You remember those
Almost unruffled evenings when we played
Mah-jongg, or she tried on your furs, which made
Her almost fetching; and the mirrors smiled,
The lights were merciful, the shadows mild,
Sometimes I'd help her with a Latin text,
Or she'd be reading in her bedroom, next
To my fluorescent lair, and you would be
In your own study, twice removed from me,
And I would hear both voices now and then:
"Mother, what's grimpen?" "What is what?" "Grim Pen."
Pause, and your guarded scholium. Then again:
"Mother, what's chtonic?" That, too, you'd explain,
Appending, "Would you like a tangerine?"
"No. Yes. And what does sempiternal mean?"
You'd hesitate. And lustily I'd roar
The answer from my desk through the closed door. (ll. 357-376)
In Canto One of his poem Shade mentions Sherlock Holmes:
Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake
Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque,
A dull dark white against the day's pale white
And abstract larches in the neutral light.
And then the gradual and dual blue
As night unites the viewer and the view,
And in the morning, diamonds of frost
Express amazement: Whose spurred feet have crossed
From left to right the blank page of the road?
Reading from left to right in winter's code:
A dot, an arrow pointing back; repeat:
Dot, arrow pointing back... A pheasant's feet
Torquated beauty, sublimated grouse,
Finding your China right behind my house.
Was he in Sherlock Holmes, the fellow whose
Tracks pointed back when he reversed his shoes? (ll. 13-28)
One of Gradus’s aliases, d’Argus, hints at Argus (a giant with 100 eyes, set to guard the heifer Io). In his poem Vsevolozhskomu (“To Vsevolozhski,” 1819) Pushkin mentions groznye Argusy (“the severe guards”) and nadezhda (hope):
Но вспомни, милый: здесь одна,
Тебя всечасно ожидая,
Вздыхает пленница младая;
Весь день уныла и томна,
В своей задумчивости сладкой
Тихонько плачет под окном
От грозных Аргусов украдкой,
И смотрит на пустынный дом,
Где мы так часто пировали
С Кипридой, Вакхом и тобой,
Куда с надеждой и тоской
Её желанья улетали. (ll. 47-58)
The surname Vsevolozhski comes from Vsevolod (a male given name). Shade’s, Kinbote’s and Gradus’s “real” name seems to be Vsevolod Botkin. 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). Nadezhda means "hope." There is a hope that, when Kinbote commits suiside (on Oct. 19, 1959, the anniversary of Pushkin's Lyceum), Botkin, like Count Vorontsov (a target of Pushkin's epigrams, "half-milord, half-merchant, etc."), will be ful again.