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), Gradus (Shade’s murderer) is a cross between bat and crab:
The grotesque figure of Gradus, a cross between bat and crab, was not much odder than many other Shadows, such as, for example, Nodo, Odon's epileptic half-brother who cheated at cards, or a mad Mandevil who had lost a leg in trying to make anti-matter. (note to Line 171)
A character in Dmitri Merezhkovski's novel Pyotr i Aleksey (Peter and Alexis, 1905), the third and final part of Merezhkovski's Christ and Antichrist trilogy, the Archimandrite Theodosius Janovski resembles a huge bat:
После обычных заздравных чар за процветание российского флота, за государя и государыню, поднялся архимандрит Феодосий Яновский с торжественным видом и стаканом в руках.
Несмотря на выражение польского гонора в лице – он был родом из мелкой польской шляхты, – несмотря на голубую орденскую ленту и алмазную панагию с государевой персоною на одной стороне, с Распятием на другой – на первой было больше алмазов, и они были крупнее, чем на второй, – несмотря на все это, Феодосий, по выражению Аврамова, собою был видом аки изумор, то есть, заморыш или недоносок. Маленький, худенький, востренький, в высочайшем клобуке с длинными складками черного крепа, в широчайшей бейберовской рясе с развевающимися черными воскрыльями, напоминал он огромную летучую мышь. Но когда шутил и, в особенности, когда кощунствовал, чтó постоянно с ним случалось «на подпитках», хитренькие глазки искрились таким язвительным умом, такою дерзкою веселостью, что жалобная мордочка летучей мыши или недоноска становилась почти привлекательной.
– Не ласкательное слово сие, – обратился Феодосий к царю, – но суще из самого сердца говорю: через вашего царского величества дела мы из тьмы неведения на феатр славы, из небытия в бытие произведены и уже в общество политических народов присовокуплены. Ты во всем обновил, государь, или паче вновь родил своих подданных. Чтó была Россия прежде и чтó есть ныне? Посмотрим ли на здания? На место хижин грубых явились палаты светлые, на место хвороста сухого – вертограды цветущие. Посмотрим ли на градские крепости? Имеем такие вещи, каковых и фигур на хартиях прежде не видывали…
Долго еще говорил он о книгах судейских, свободных учениях, искусствах, о флоте – «оруженосных сих ковчегах» – об исправлении и обновлении церкви.
– А ты, – воскликнул он в заключение, в риторском жаре взмахнув широкими рукавами рясы, как черными крыльями, и сделавшись еще более похожим на летучую мышь, – а ты, новый, новоцарствующий град Петров, не высокая ли слава еси фундатора твоего? Там, где и помысла никому не было о жительстве человеческом, вскоре устроилося место, достойное престола царского. Urbs ubi silva fuit. – Град, идеже был лес. И кто расположение града сего не похвалит? Не только всю Россию красотою превосходит место, но и в иных европейских странах подобное обрестись не может! На веселом месте создан есть! Воистину, ваше величество, сочинил ты из России самую метаморфозис или претворение!
After the customary toasts for the welfare of the fleet, the Tsar and the Tsaritsa, the Archimandrite Theodosius Janovski stood up with solemn air, glass in hand. Notwithstanding the Polish expression of self-esteem on his face—he belonged to the minor Polish nobility—notwithstanding the blue decoration ribbon, and the diamond panagia with the Emperor’s likeness on one side and the crucifix on the other, with the diamonds more in number and larger on the former than the latter, notwithstanding all this, Theodosius, to quote Avrámoff’s account, “had the appearance of some monstrosity,” of a starveling or an abortion. He was small, thin and angular; in his tall mitre with its long folds of black crêpe, his very wide pall with wide open sleeves, he greatly resembled a bat. Yet when he joked and especially when he scoffed at sacred things, which usually happened when he was drunk, his sly eyes would sparkle with such wit, such impudent mirth, that the miserable face of the bat-like abortion became almost attractive.
“This will not be a flattering oration,” said Theodosius, turning to the Tsar, “but I speak the truth from my heart: by your Majesty’s actions we have been led from the darkness of ignorance into the lighted theatre of fame, from death into life, and have even joined the throng of civilised nations. Monarch! you have renewed and revived everything, and more yet, given new life to your subjects. What was Russia in olden times? What is she to-day? Let us consider the houses: old rough huts have been replaced by bright palaces; withered twigs by blooming gardens. Let us consider the fortifications: here have we things which prior to this we have not even beheld on charts!”
He went on talking for a long time “about laws, free learning, arts,” the fleet, these armed arks, the reformation and the new birth of the Church.
“And thou,” he exclaimed in conclusion, brandishing his arms in the heat of rhetoric, so that the wide sleeves, like black wings, made him still more like a bat, “And thou, City of Peter! young in thy supremacy! How great is the renown of thy founder! In a place where nobody even as much as dreamt of human habitation, in a short time a city has been erected worthy to hold the monarch’s throne. ‘Urbs ubi sylva fuit.’ A city in place of a wood. And who will not praise the position of this city? The district not only excels in beauty the rest of Russia, but even in other countries the like cannot be found! On a cheerful site art thou erected! Verily a metamorphosis, a change in Russia hast thou accomplished, O Majesty!” (Book One. "The Venus of Petersburg." Chapter III)
In his speech Fedoska (as Prince Alexis calls Theodosius) mentions grad Petrov (the city of Peter) and several times repeats the word grad (the сity). In 1914, after the outbreak of World War I, St. Petersburg (VN's home city) was renamed Petrograd and in 1924, after Lenin's death, Petrograd was renamed Leningrad. In his commentary Kinbote mockingly calls Gradus (who 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) "Vinogradus" and "Leningradus:"
The Zemblan Revolution provided Gradus with satisfactions but also produced frustrations. One highly irritating episode seems retrospectively most significant as belonging to an order of things that Gradus should have learned to expect but never did. An especially brilliant impersonator of the King, the tennis ace Julius Steinmann (son of the well-known philanthropist), had eluded for several months the police who had been driven to the limits of exasperation by his mimicking to perfection the voice of Charles the Beloved in a series of underground radio speeches deriding the government. When finally captured he was tried by a special commission, of which Gradus was a member, and condemned to death. The firing squad bungled their job, and a little later the gallant young man was found recuperating from his wounds at a provincial hospital. When Gradus learned of this, he flew into one of his rare rages - not because the fact presupposed royalist machinations, but because the clean, honest, orderly course of death had been interfered with in an unclean, dishonest, disorderly manner. Without consulting anybody he rushed to the hospital, stormed in, located Julius in a crowded ward and managed to fire twice, both times missing, before the gun was wrested from him by a hefty male nurse. He rushed back to headquarters and returned with a dozen soldiers but his patient had disappeared.
Such things rankle - but what can Gradus do? The huddled fates engage in a great conspiracy against Gradus. One notes with pardonable glee that his likes are never granted the ultimate thrill of dispatching their victim themselves. Oh, surely, Gradus is active, capable, helpful, often indispensable. At the foot of the scaffold, on a raw and gray morning, it is Gradus who sweeps the night's powder snow off the narrow steps; but his long leathery face will not be the last one that the man who must mount those steps is to see in this world. It is Gradus who buys the cheap fiber valise that a luckier guy will plant, with a time bomb inside, under the bed of a former henchman. Nobody knows better than Gradus how to set a trap by means of a fake advertisement, but the rich old widow whom it hooks is courted and slain by another. When the fallen tyrant is tied, naked and howling, to a plank in the public square and killed piecemeal by the people who cut slices out, and eat them, and distribute his living body among themselves (as I read when young in a story about an Italian despot, which made of me a vegetarian for life), Gradus does not take part in the infernal sacrament: he points out the right instrument and directs the carving.
All this is as it should be; the world needs Gradus. But Gradus should not kill kings. Vinogradus should never, never provoke God. Leningradus should not aim his peashooter at people even in dreams, because if he does, a pair of colossally thick, abnormally hairy arms will hug him from behind and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. (note to Line 171)
Vinograd ("The Grapes," 1824) is a poem by Pushkin. In the Introduction to his poem Mednyi vsadnik ("The Bronze Horseman," 1833) Pushkin calls St. Petersburg grad Petrov:
Красуйся, град Петров, и стой
Неколебимо как Россия,
Да умирится же с тобой
И побежденная стихия;
Вражду и плен старинный свой
Пусть волны финские забудут
И тщетной злобою не будут
Тревожить вечный сон Петра!
Stand proudly, Peter’s great city,
The elements, now tamed, at last
At peace with you; and, finally,
Let Finnish enmity be past
Those waves in their captivity
Still bear for you; let them forget
To stir, in their vain malice fret,
Or trouble Peter’s endless sleep!
(transl. A. S. Kline)
Gradus is a cross between bat and crab. A character in Merezhkovski's novel Alexander the First (1913), General Dibich resembles a crab:
Волконский смотрел на него свысока, потому что иначе не мог: голова Дибича приходилась едва по плечо собеседнику; карапузик маленький, толстенький, с большой головой и кривыми ножками; когда маршировал в строю, должен был бегать вприпрыжку; движения кособокие, неуклюжие, ползучие, как у краба; вид заспанный, неряшливый; на сюртуке вечно какой-нибудь пух или перышко; рыжие волосы взъерошены; лицо налитое, красное: уверяли, будто бы пьет. Но наружность его была обманчива: неутомимо-деятелен, горяч, кипуч, вспыльчив до самозабвения (недаром впоследствии, в турецком походе, солдаты прозвали его: "самовар-паша") и, вместе с тем, хладнокровен, тонок, умен, проницателен. Государю потакал во всем, а тот почти боялся его. "Дибичу пальца в рот не клади",-- говаривал. (Part Six. Chapter III)
A mad Mandevil (Baron Mirador) who had lost a leg in trying to make anti-matter brings to mind Baron Manteufel (Teufel is devil in German) mentioned by Julia Arnheim (a lady-in-waiting of Princess Charlotte, Peter's daughter-in-law) in Merezhkovski's Peter and Alexis:
Дикая застенчивость. Я видела сама, как на пышном приеме послов, сидя на троне, он смущался, краснел, потел, часто для бодрости нюхал табак, не знал, куда девать глаза, избегал даже взоров царицы; когда же церемония кончилась, и можно было сойти с трона, рад был, как школьник. Маркграфиня Бранденбургская рассказывала мне, будто бы при первом свидании с нею царь -- правда тогда совсем еще юный -- отвернулся, закрыл лицо руками, как красная девушка, и только повторял одно: "Je nе sais pas m'exprimer. Я не умею говорить..." Скоро, впрочем, оправился и сделался даже слишком развязным; пожелал убедиться собственноручно, что не от природной костлявости немок зависит жесткость их талий, удивлявшая русских, а от рыбьего уса в корсетах. "II pourrait être un peu plus poli! Он бы мог быть повежливее!"-заметила маркграфиня. Барон Мантейфель передавал мне о свидании царя с королевою прусскою: "Он был настолько любезен, что подал ей руку, надев предварительно довольно грязную перчатку. За ужином превзошел себя: не ковырял в зубах, не рыгал и не производил других неприличных звуков (il n’a ni roté ni peté)."
A strange timidity occasionally besets him. I myself have seen him at a pompous reception of Ambassadors sitting on the throne, confused, blushing, perspiring, trying to gain courage by repeatedly taking snuff; he did not know what to do with his eyes, and even avoided his wife’s glances. When the ceremony was over and he was no longer obliged to stay on the throne, he was as merry as a schoolboy. The Markgravine of Brandenburg told me that at her first interview with the Tsar—who it is true was quite young at that time—he turned away, covered his face with his hands like a shy debutante, and did nothing but repeat, “Je ne sais pas m’exprimer”—“I cannot talk.” He soon recovered, however, and became almost too free. He expressed the desire to convince himself that the German ladies’ hard waists, which so surprised the Russians, were not caused by their bony nature, but by the whalebones in the stays. “Il pourrait être plus poli”—“He might have been a little more polite,” observed the Markgravine. Baron Manteuffel related to me the Tsar’s interview with the Queen of Prussia: “He was so amiable that before offering her his hand he put on a rather dirty glove. At the supper he surpassed himself. He neither picked his teeth, nor belched, nor uttered any other unbecoming noises (il n’a ni roté ni peté).”. (Book Three: "The Private Journal of Prince Alexis")