At the beginning of Canto Three of his poem John Shade (the poet in VN’s novel Pale Fire, 1962) mentions Rabelais’ great Maybe, “the grand potato:”
L'if, lifeless tree! Your great Maybe, Rabelais:
The grand potato.
I.P.H., a lay
Institute (I) of Preparation (P)
For the Hereafter (H), or If, as we
Called it--big if!--engaged me for one term
To speak on death ("to lecture on the Worm,"
Wrote President McAber).
You and I,
And she, then a mere tot, moved from New Wye
To Yewshade, in another, higher state. (ll. 500-509)
In his Commentary Kinbote (Shade’s mad commentator who imagines that he is Charles the Beloved, the last self-exiled king of Zembla) writes:
Line 501: L'if
The yew in French. It is curious that the Zemblan word for the weeping willow is also "if" (the yew is tas).
Line 502: The grand potato
An execrable pun, deliberately placed in this epigraphic position to stress lack of respect for Death. I remember from my schoolroom days Rabelais' soi-disant "last words" among other bright bits in some French manual: Je m'en vais chercher le grand peut-être.
In his poem Kto zh milykh ne teryal? Ostav' kholodnyi svet ("Who didn't lose his dear ones? Leave the cold society," 1790) Karamzin mentions blednyi tis (the pale yew) and, in the next line, drug myortvykh, kiparis (a friend of the dead, the cypress):
Кто ж милых не терял? Оставь холодный свет
И горесть разделяй с унылыми древами,
С кристаллом томных вод и с нежными цветами;
Чувствительный во всем себе друзей найдет.
Там урну хладную с любовью осеняют
Тополь высокий, бледный тис,
И ты, друг мертвых, кипарис!
Печальные сердца твою приятность знают,
Любовник нежный мирты рвет,
Для славы гордый лавр растет;
Но ты милее тем, которые стенают
Над прахом счастья и друзей!
Rabelais' last words are quoted by Karamzin in Pis'ma russkogo puteshestvennika ("Letters of a Russian Traveler," 1791-92):
В местечке Мёдон жил некогда Франциск Рабле, автор романов «Гаргантюа» и «Пантагрюель», наполненных остроумными замыслами, гадкими описаниями, темными аллегориями и нелепостию. Шестой-надесять век удивлялся его знаниям, уму, шутовству. Быв несколько времени худым монахом, Рабле сделался хорошим доктором, выпросил у папы отпускную и прославил Монпельерский университет своими лекциями; ездил в Рим пошутить над туфлем своего благодетеля, взял на себя должность приходского священника в Мёдоне, усердно врачевал тело и душу своей паствы и писал романы, в которых простосердечный Лафонтен находил более ума, нежели в философских трактатах, и которые, без всякого сомнения, подали Стерну мысль сочинить «Тристрама Шанди». Рабле жил и умер шутя. За несколько минут до смерти своей сказал он: «Занавес опускается, комедия вся. Je vais chercher un grand peut-être». Духовная его состояла в следующих словах: «Ничего не имею; много должен; остальное – бедным».
N. M. Karamzin (1766-1826) is the author of the twelve-volume History of the Russian State. Describing the forty days after Queen Blenda’s death, Kinbote mentions a volume of Historia Zemblica and the picture of a bogtur (ancient warrior) in the history book:
The forty days between Queen Blenda's death and his coronation was perhaps the most trying stretch of time in his life. He had had no love for his mother, and the hopeless and helpless remorse he now felt degenerated into a sickly physical fear of her phantom. The Countess, who seemed to be near him, to be rustling at his side, all the time, had him attend table-turning seances with an experienced American medium, seances at which the Queen's spirit, operating the same kind of planchette she had used in her lifetime to chat with Thormodus Torfaeus and A. R. Wallace, now briskly wrote in English: "Charles take take cherish love flower flower flower." An old psychiatrist so thoroughly bribed by the Countess as to look, even on the outside, like a putrid pear, assured him that his vices had subconsciously killed his mother and would continue "to kill her in him" if he did not renounce sodomy. A palace intrigue is a special spider that entangles you more nastily at every desperate jerk you try. Our Prince was young, inexperienced, and half-frenzied with insomnia. He hardly struggled at all. The Countess spent a fortune on buying his kamergrum (groom of the chamber), his bodyguard, and even the greater part of the Court Chamberlain. She took to sleeping in a small antechamber next to his bachelor bedroom, a splendid spacious circular apartment at the top of the high and massive South West Tower. This had been his father's retreat and was still connected by a jolly chute in the wall with a round swimming pool in the hall below, so that the young Prince could start the day as his father used to start it by slipping open a panel beside his army cot and rolling into the shaft whence he whizzed down straight into bright water. For other needs than sleep Charles Xavier had installed in the middle of the Persian rug-covered floor a so-called patifolia, that is, a huge, oval, luxuriously flounced, swansdown pillow the size of a triple bed. It was in this ample nest that Fleur now slept, curled up in its central hollow, under a coverlet of genuine giant panda fur that had just been rushed from Tibet by a group of Asiatic well-wishers on the occasion of his ascension to the throne. The antechamber, where the Countess was ensconced, had its own inner staircase and bathroom, but also communicated by means of a sliding door with the West Gallery. I do not know what advice or command her mother had given Fleur; but the little thing proved a poor seducer. She kept trying, as one quietly insane, to mend a broken viola d'amore or sat in dolorous attitudes comparing two ancient flutes, both sad-tuned and feeble. Meantime, in Turkish garb, he lolled in his father's ample chair, his legs over its arm, flipping through a volume of Historia Zemblica, copying out passages and occasionally fishing out of the nether recesses of his seat a pair of old-fashioned motoring goggles, a black opal ring, a ball of silver chocolate wrapping, or the star of a foreign order.
It was warm in the evening sun. She wore on the second day of their ridiculous cohabitation nothing except a kind of buttonless and sleeveless pajama top. The sight of her four bare limbs and three mousepits (Zemblan anatomy) irritated him, and while pacing about and pondering his coronation speech, he would toss towards her, without looking, her shorts or a terrycloth robe. Sometimes, upon returning to the comfortable old chair he would find her in it contemplating sorrowfully the picture of a bogtur (ancient warrior) in the history book. He would sweep her out of his chair, his eyes still on his writing pad, and stretching herself she would move over to the window seat and its dusty sunbeam; but after a while she tried to cuddle up to him, and he had to push away her burrowing dark curly head with one hand while writing with the other or detach one by one her little pink claws from his sleeve or sash. (note to Line 80)
The picture of a bogtur seems to hint at Victor Vasnetsov's painting Bogatyrs (1898). The three bogatyrs on horseback in Vasnetsov's painting are Dobrynya Nikitich, Ilya Muromets and Alyosha Popovich. Karamzin's unfinished poem Ilya Muromets (1794) is subtitled bogatyrskaya skazka (a heroic fairy tale). In the last line of his epigram on Karamzin (1816) Pushkin says "Please finish for us Ilya the Bogatyr:"
«Послушайте: я сказку вам начну
Про Игоря и про его жену,
Про Новгород и Царство Золотое,
А может быть про Грозного царя...»
— И, бабушка, затеяла пустое!
Докончи нам «Илью-богатыря».
Pushkin (who followed Karamzin in accusing Boris Godunov of the murder of little Prince Dimitri, the youngest son of Ivan the Terrible) dedicated Boris Godunov to the memory of Karamzin. At the beginning of Pushkin’s drama Shuyski tells Vorotynski that he could have proved (izoblichit’) the secret villain's guilt with a single word:
Воротынский
Ужасное злодейство! Полно, точно ль
Царевича сгубил Борис?
Шуйский
А кто же?
Кто подкупал напрасно Чепчугова?
Кто подослал обоих Битяговских
С Качаловым? Я в Углич послан был
Исследовать на месте это дело:
Наехал я на свежие следы;
Весь город был свидетель злодеянья;
Все граждане согласно показали;
И, возвратясь, я мог единым словом
Изобличить сокрытого злодея.
VOROTYNSKI. Fearful crime!
Is it beyond all doubt Boris contrived
The young boy's murder?
SHUYSKI. Who besides? Who else
Bribed Chepchugov in vain? Who sent in secret
The brothers Bityagovsky with Kachalov?
Myself was sent to Uglich, there to probe
This matter on the spot; fresh traces there
I found; the whole town bore witness to the crime;
With one accord the burghers all affirmed it;
And with a single word, when I returned,
I could have proved the secret villain's guilt.
To the words of a professor of physics “History has denounced him [the King of Zembla], and that is his epitaph" Shade replies that in due time history will have denounced everybody:
A professor of physics now joined in. He was a so-called Pink, who believed in what so-called Pinks believe in (Progressive Education, the Integrity of anyone spying for Russia, Fall-outs occasioned solely by US-made bombs, the existence in the near past of a McCarthy Era, Soviet achievements including Dr. Zhivago, and so forth): "Your regrets are groundless" [said he]. "That sorry ruler is known to have escaped disguised as a nun; but whatever happens, or has happened to him, cannot interest the Zemblan people. History has denounced him, and that is his epitaph."
Shade: "True, sir. In due time history will have denounced everybody. The King may be dead, or he may be as much alive as you and Kinbote, but let us respect facts. I have it from him [pointing to me] that the widely circulated stuff about the nun is a vulgar pro-Extremist fabrication. The Extremists and their friends invented a lot of nonsense to conceal their discomfiture; but the truth is that the King walked out of the palace, and crossed the mountains, and left the country, not in the black garb of a pale spinster but dressed as an athlete in scarlet wool." (note to Line 894)
In her Russian translation of PF Vera Nabokov renders “has denounced” as izoblichila and “will have denounced” as izoblichit. Karamzin is the author of a famous epitaph Pokoysya, milyi prakh, do radostnogo utra (Rest thee, dear dust, until the joyful morning"). It is the epitaph on the grave of Dostoevski's mother. Describing IPH in Canto Three of his poem, Shade mentions fra Karamazov mumbling his inept all is allowed. According to Kinbote, Shade listed Dostoevski among Russian humorists:
Speaking of the Head of the bloated Russian Department, Prof. Pnin, a regular martinet in regard to his underlings (happily, Prof. Botkin, who taught in another department, was not subordinated to that grotesque "perfectionist"): "How odd that Russian intellectuals should lack all sense of humor when they have such marvelous humorists as Gogol, Dostoevski, Chekhov, Zoshchenko, and those joint authors of genius Ilf and Petrov." (note to Line 172)