The Last Grasps of Empathy for H.H.

As Lolita continues to become a character of her own, there are subtle signs and obvious occurrences which signal Humbert’s losing her, both mentally and physically, that aid in establishing justification for his actions. In the beginning of chapter 18, when Humbert describes his  “hallucinations,” he attempts to blame their occurrence on outside interference—“I do not know what she or he, or both had put into my liquor but one night I felt sure somebody was tapping on the door of our cabin”—shying away from his own overwhelming paranoia. Humbert’s mere mention of someone fooling with him gives the reader some sense of empathy towards Hum, whose poor planning and blind love leave him feeling infringed upon by the outside world; one which seems constantly out to get him, and surely the common reader can relate to his feeling—if not criminally, emotionally.  Even though he is deserving of the stress, and obviously destined to lose his Lolita rightly, the reader feels empathy for the man that is losing his grip on his love.

Again, in the nature overwhelming feelings, the empathetic reader truly feels the heartbreak in the scene where Humbert consoles Lolita to come back with him, away from Dick Schiller, to live with him for the rest of her life, and her simple reply is, “No, honey, no.” This scene may be the only one in the entire novel where the reader feels blind sadness right alongside Humbert, as he “[breaks] into the hottest tears [he] had ever shed.” When Humbert, in the wake of Lo’s answer, only notices that “She had never called [him] honey before” (279), the reader truly understands his maniacal blindness, his pure infatuation and the utmost dwellings of his passion. Though he is a child molesting cynic riddled with lunacy, the universal sentiments of heartbreak soften the blows of his crimes and have the reader reconsidering really how poor his initial intentions for Lolita were.

Touching upon the final section—the hunt and final execution of Clare Quilty—we are again visited by obvious signs of Humbert’s mental deterioration. When venturing to Grimm Road to find  and kill Quilty, Humbert describes the day: “…the sun was visible again, burning like a man, and the birds screamed in the drenched and streaming trees.” This memory exudes a severe sense of delusion; one which, if the account works as fodder for the jury, could easily help sway them into believing Humbert’s actions were performed on account of insanity rather than pure, malevolent hatred. He also matter-of-factly informs the reader that “[he] had overdone the alcoholic stimulation business” (293), further backing the sentiment of mental impairment which flows through this scene and those following where, with trust Chum, Humbert will chase Quilty around his house trying to finish him. He goes on, on the following page, describing his attempts to avoid any unfortunate accident in his quest for murder: “Consequently, for at least five minutes I went about—lucidly insane, crazily calm, an enchanted and very tight hunter—turning whatever keys in whatever locks there were and pocketing them with my free left hand” (294). Humbert describes himself as crazy, a lunatic—and his actions here certainly exemplify those self-assigned adjectives. So, as readers and as “jurors,” we are certainly in the position to question: Was Humbert really acting in all capacities of his right mind at the time of the murder? This leaves room for doubt and, in turn, room for justification.