MR: Not exactly. VN seems to be referring to the "Newgate Frill," a style of beard grown beneath the jawline, thus resembling a noose like the ones used to execute prisoners at the Newgate prison in England. (Foreshadowing his demise, methinks.) See Richard Wagner's Wikipedia page for a splendid example. There is no mustache involved. As for "wick," Webster's 2nd defines it thus: "A corner, esp. of the eye or mouth; an angle. Now Dial." The origin is from Old Norse, vijka to turn. W2 says to also see weak, which descends from a larger set of similar words with the meaning "soft, pliant, yielding" and "turn, veer, recede." Since Shade here is talking about how weak his skin is, wick is an excellent choice, since it not only points to a particular part of his face but to that part's weakness, as well.

As for the shaving scene as a whole, I have always felt that it is the weakest part of the poem, a real disappointment both because of the deflated promise of the canto's opening lines and because it feels, as Gary pointed out, utterly self-indulgent, an idee fixe. As a part of Shade's poem, it fails. Yet there is method in it in terms of its importance to the novel as a whole. There are at least two key images in the passage that contribute to my belief that Shade and Kinbote are the same person. The first is that of Shade imagining himself "like a king there, and like Marat bleed[ing]." Here we have Shade picturing himself (the quasi-truth told in jest) both as a king and as the victim of an assassin--the very building blocks of Kinbote's identity. Indeed, this is the second time Shade has imagined himself a king (see line 605). In both cases, VN eschews first-person singular (first using "our," then "he") in order to foreground the dissociative nature of this line of thought within Shade's psyche. In other words, Shade is outside himself in these descriptions.

Here we have Shade describing his skin, the boundary between inside and outside, as nearly permeable. His "dewlap" is so vulnerable he is thinking of growing out the beard that is already deep-seated inside him ("inveterate in me"). In essence, then, he is ready to turn himself inside out. We should see this turning (recall that "wick" means "to turn") as related to Shade's muse, his "versipel," or turn-skin--a term usually used to designate a werewolf. The versipel also appears to be inveterate in Shade, since it is "with [him] everywhere, / in carrel and in car, and in my chair."* For more on this, see the Roth/DeRewal article in the NOJ, but in short, the ancient notion was that werewolves in their human form had hair that grew inward; when they transformed into wolves, they simply turned themselves inside out. Quoting from our essay:

Though Nabokov used the particular term verispel only in Pale Fire, he has played with the idea of the turn-skin before. In a scene from Despair that seems a deliberate counterpart to Shade’s shaving scene (in which he gazes at himself in the mirror and considers growing a beard), we find Hermann discoursing on the evils of mirrors and the luxury of his newly-grown beard. Hermann complains that a flawed mirror can turn the gazer into a “man-bull” with a neck which “draws out suddenly into a downward yawn of flesh,” or, alternatively, it can reveal a man “torn in two” (21). In Canto Four of “Pale Fire,” John Shade, peering into his shaving mirror, observes that his almost permeable skin (perhaps befitting his versipellian nature) is “less secure” than it once was, and “ridiculously thin.” He continues, “Or this dewlap: some day I must set free / The Newport Frill inveterate in me” (P895-900). Webster’s 2^nd defines “dewlap” as both “the pendulous fold of skin under the neck of animals of the ox tribe” and “a flaccid fold of fat or flesh on the human throat.” Thus, when Shade references his downward-yawning dewlap, he is essentially conjuring himself as Hermann’s “man-bull.” Hermann refuses to look at mirrors for fear of seeing himself transformed into a man-beast; John Shade looks into his mirror and sees the “man-bull” already there. We must then wonder if he also sees himself “torn in two.”

But the versipel image, as it specifically refers to werewolves, is even more explicitly evoked by another of Hermann’s observations, which immediately follows his discourse on mirrors. While admiring his beard (much as Kinbote admires the “rich tint and texture” of his own) Hermann boasts, “I am disguised so perfectly, as to be invisible to my own self! Hair comes sprouting out of every pore. There must have been a tremendous stock of shag inside me. I hide in the natural jungle that has grown out of me. There is nothing to fear. Silly superstition!” (21). This presents us with a puzzle. What is the “silly superstition” to which Hermann here refers, and why might it engender fear? The answer may be found in the image of a man with “a tremendous stock of shag” growing inside him, a man who, in essence, becomes hairy by turning himself inside out—in other words, a versipel.

All private editorial communications, without exception, are read by both co-editors.

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