V kunstkamere khranitsya
golova,
Kak monstra, zaspirtovannogo v
banke,
Krasavitsy Marii Gamilton…
In the kunstkamera there is the
head,
Like of some monster, preserved in
alcohol,
Of beautiful Maria
Gamilton…
Happier than poor Maria Gamilton was another beauty, Emma Lyon
(1761-1815), who entered history as Lady Hamilton, the mistress of Admiral
Nelson. AH +
“Ved’ (‘it is, isn’t it’) sidesplitting
to imagine that ‘Russia,’ instead of being a quaint synonym of Estoty, the
American province extending from the Arctic no longer vicious Circle to the
United States proper, was on Terra the name of a country, transferred as if by
some sleight of land across the ha-ha of a doubled ocean to the opposite
hemisphere where it sprawled all over today’s Tartary, from Kurland to the
Kurils! But (even more absurdly), if, in Terrestrial spatial terms, the
Amerussia of Abraham Milton was split into its components, with tangible water
and ice separating the political, rather than poetical, notions of ‘America’ and
‘Russia’…” (1.3)
On Antiterra,
Instead of the Antiterran “ha-ha of a doubled ocean” separating Amerussia
and Tartary, we have on Earth the somewhat broader
As to the Russian particle ved’, it is quite simple: VED’ + MAMAN = VED’MA + MAN (maman is French for “mother;” cf. “he [Van] invariably wrote in French calling her [Aqua] petite maman:” 1.3; ved’ma is Russian for “witch;” cf. “Two or three centuries earlier she [Aqua] might have been just another consumable witch:” 1.3; cf. “Witch (or Viedma, founded by a Russian admiral):” 2.2; “man” is homo sapience, but, capitalized, it is also a character in Milton’s epics; the name of the island in the Irish sea; the name of the Antiterran city that corresponds to our world’s New York, short of “Manhattan,” that city’s full name).
The word kunstkamera, like several other words in
Voloshin’s poem, also turns out to be a part of an anagram. Because this anagram
comprises 78 letters (39 = 39) and almost all words in it are Russian, I won’t
bring it up here (so as not to shock you). I mention it only to illustrate my
argument that Nabokov’s dream of Antiterra, a kind of Earth’s parallel world, is
a word dream (cf. “Van often had word dreams:” 1.42) that involves a lot of
hidden anagrams (note, by the way, that world = word + L). I would even call it
a word nightmare. All the same, Ada
is, in my opinion, Nabokov’s most complex and most perfect dream (all VN’s
novels, like all true works of art, are dreams), in every respect superior to
his greatest Russian masterpiece, Dar
(however much I may admire it). It shows no sign of “decline” (contrary to
Alexey
Sklyarenko