At the beginning of his manuscript Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Lolita, 1955) mentions the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth:
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. (1.1)
The tongue is the primary organ for the sense of taste. “Do the Senses make Sense?” is a modest work (wherein certain morbid states and perversions had been discussed) of John Ray, Jr., the author of the Foreword to Humbert's manuscript:
“Lolita, or the Confession of a White Widowed Male,” such were the two titles under which the writer of the present note received the strange pages it preambulates. “Humbert Humbert,” their author, had died in legal captivity, of coronary thrombosis, on November 16, 1952, a few days before his trial was scheduled to start. His lawyer, my good friend and relation, Clarence Choate Clark, Esq., now of he District of Columbia bar, in asking me to edit the manuscript, based his request on a clause in his client’s will which empowered my eminent cousin to use the discretion in all matters pertaining to the preparation of “Lolita” for print. Mr. Clark’s decision may have been influenced by the fact that the editor of his choice had just been awarded the Poling Prize for a modest work (“Do the Senses make Sense?”) wherein certain morbid states and perversions had been discussed.
In Konstantin Merezhkovski's Ray Zemnoy ili Son v zimnyuyu noch' ("The Earthly Paradise, or a Midwinter Night's Dream," 1903), an utopian novel set in the 27th century on a Polynesian island, Ezrar (the old wise protector) mentions the nerves of four senses (sight, hearing, smell and touch):
Было, правда, некогда совершено преступление, страшное преступление, во сто крат большее, чем то, в котором вы нас упрекнули, но оно было совершено не нами, а знаете кем? - вами, нашими обвинителями! Это вы втаптывали в грязь, вы попирали ногами, вы унижали человеческую природу, и не одной половины, а целых девяти десятых человечества для того, чтобы на широком фундаменте, сложенном из сотен миллионов человеческих существ воздвигнуть красивое здание вашей роскошной цивилизации, для того чтобы, опираясь на него, наслаждаться довольством, наукой, изящной чистотой, приятно щекотать свои нервы зрения, слуха, обоняния, даже осязания. И что ужаснее всего, вы создали рабов не из диких племен, а из своих же собственных братьев, и что еще ужаснее рабы эти вполне сознавали весь ужас своего положения, мучились, стонали в своей грязи, они пытались и восставать из нее, но каждый раз натыкались на штыки, направляемые вашими ловкими руками, и задыхались в своей собственной крови. Вот что вы вправе назвать неслыханным, невероятным преступлением! Правда, дальнейшие события доказали совершенную неизбежность всего этого, совершенную несбыточность всех попыток внести справедливость в человеческие отношения, несовместимость правды с человеческой природой; но вы, люди XIX века, не имели еще этого ужасного опыта позднейших веков, вы все, напротив, в глубине души своей считали возможной жизнь на справедливых началах, но вы заглушали в себе тот голос совести, дабы вам, 1/10 человечества, спокойнее было пользоваться 9/10 всех благ земных. И это удесятеряло вашу вину. (Day One, chapter IV)
The fifth sense (passed over in silence by Ezrar) is taste. Shestoe chuvstvo ("The Sixth Sense," 1919) is a poem by Gumilyov:
Прекрасно в нас влюбленное вино
И добрый хлеб, что в печь для нас садится,
И женщина, которою дано,
Сперва измучившись, нам насладиться.
Но что нам делать с розовой зарей
Над холодеющими небесами,
Где тишина и неземной покой,
Что делать нам с бессмертными стихами?
Ни съесть, ни выпить, ни поцеловать.
Мгновение бежит неудержимо,
И мы ломаем руки, но опять
Осуждены идти всё мимо, мимо.
Как мальчик, игры позабыв свои,
Следит порой за девичьим купаньем
И, ничего не зная о любви,
Всё ж мучится таинственным желаньем;
Как некогда в разросшихся хвощах
Ревела от сознания бессилья
Тварь скользкая, почуя на плечах
Еще не появившиеся крылья;
Так, век за веком — скоро ли, Господь? —
Под скальпелем природы и искусства,
Кричит наш дух, изнемогает плоть,
Рождая орган для шестого чувства.
Fine is the wine that loves us,
and the bread baked for our sake,
and the woman who lies and loves us
when she’s finished her tweaking games.
But sunset clouds, rose
in a sky turned cold,
calm like some other earth?
immortal poems?
All inedible, non-potable, un-kissable.
Time comes, time goes,
and we wring our hands
and never decide, never touch the circle.
Like a boy forgetting his games
and watching girls in the river
and knowing nothing but eaten
by desires stranger
Than he knows — like a slippery creature
sensing unformed wings
on its back and howling helpless
in the bushes and brambles — like hundred
Years after hundred years — how long, Lord,
how long ? — as nature and art
cut, and we scream, and slowly, slowly,
our sixth-sense organ is surgically born.
(tr. Burton Raffel & Alla Burago)
The Russian translator of Robert Browning's play Pippa Passes, Nikolay Gumilyov (1886-1921) was executed on August 25, 1921. A rival poet, Alexander Blok (cf. Vivian Damor-Blok, the name of Clare Quilty's coauthor in the Russian Lolita, 1967) died on August 7, 1921. On January 9, 1921, Constantine Mereschkowski (as he spelt his name) was found dead in his hotel room (in Hotel des Families in Geneva), having tied himself up in his bed with a mask which was supplied with an asphyxiating gas from a metal container. It appears that his suicide was directly connected to his paedophilic utoian beliefs (reflected in his novel "The Earthly Paradise") as well as his view that he was becoming too old and frail to continue his history of child abuse (in 1914 he was accused of raping 26 little girls and fled Russia). As an atheist, his dreamed-of utopia was to be scientifically based, involving the evolution of a perfect human race of paedophiles held aloft by the enslavement of Africans, Asians, and others. The Earthly Paradise describes specially-bred castes of human including one of neotenized, sexualizing children prolonged into adult age - still displaying child-like features and behaviour - who were put to death at the age of 35, as they could not be happy in old age. Merezhkovski actively assisted the far-right Black Hundredist organisation the Kazan Department of the Union of Russian People, and provided secret assistance to the Ministry of Internal Affairs in hunting down Jews and supposed traitors.
Humbert's Lolita was Lola in slacks:
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. (1.1)
The characters in Merezhkovski's Earthly Paradise include Lolla, the big-breasted, cow-like mother of seven charming little girls with an age range from 5 to 12. As to old wise Ezrar, his name looks like a curious blend of Edgar Poe and Ezra Pound. The misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs who envied Humbert's happiness hint at the wingèd seraphs of Heaven in E. A. Poe's last poem Annabel Lee (1849), but they also bring to mind a six-winged seraph who, in Pushkin's poem Prorok ("The Prophet," 1826), ripped out the Prophet's sinful tongue:
Духовной жаждою томим,
В пустыне мрачной я влачился, —
И шестикрылый серафим
На перепутье мне явился.
Перстами лёгкими как сон
Моих зениц коснулся он.
Отверзлись вещие зеницы,
Как у испуганной орлицы.
Моих ушей коснулся он, —
И их наполнил шум и звон:
И внял я неба содроганье,
И горний ангелов полёт,
И гад морских подводный ход,
И дольней лозы прозябанье.
И он к устам моим приник,
И вырвал грешный мой язык,
И празднословный и лукавый,
И жало мудрыя змеи
В уста замершие мои
Вложил десницею кровавой.
И он мне грудь рассёк мечом,
И сердце трепетное вынул,
И угль, пылающий огнём,
Во грудь отверстую водвинул.
Как труп в пустыне я лежал,
И Бога глас ко мне воззвал:
«Восстань, пророк, и виждь, и внемли,
Исполнись волею Моей,
И, обходя моря и земли,
Глаголом жги сердца людей».
Tormented by a spiritual thirst,
I stumbled through a gloomy waste,
And there a six-winged seraph
Appeared before me at the crossroad.
With touch as light as slumber,
He laid his fingers on my eyes,
Which opened wide in prophecy
Just as a startled eagle's might.
Upon my ears his touch then fell,
And they were filled with noise and clangs:
I heard the heavens shift on high,
The whispering of angels' wings,
Sea monsters moving in the deep,
The growing grapevines in the vales.
And then he bent down towards my mouth,
My sinful tongue he ripped right out -
Its slander and its idle lies -
And with his bloody hand inserted
Between my still and lifeless lips
A cunning serpent's forked tongue.
And with his sword he cleaved my breast
Removed my shaking heart,
And then he seized a blazing coal,
And placed it in my gaping breast.
Corpse-like I lay upon the sand
And then God's voice called out to me:
"Arise, O Prophet, watch and hark,
Fulfill all my commands:
Go forth now over land and sea,
And with your word ignite men's hearts.