Authors: Nikolai Gogol
"In return," said Chichikov, "would you mind doing me the following
favour? I desire to mediate in the matter of your difference with the
Brothers Platonov. I believe that you wish to acquire some additional
land? Is not that so?"
(Here there occurs a hiatus in the original.)
Everything in life fulfils its function, and Chichikov's tour in
search of a fortune was carried out so successfully that not a little
money passed into his pockets. The system employed was a good one: he
did not steal, he merely used. And every one of us at times does the
same: one man with regard to Government timber, and another with
regard to a sum belonging to his employer, while a third defrauds his
children for the sake of an actress, and a fourth robs his peasantry
for the sake of smart furniture or a carriage. What can one do when
one is surrounded on every side with roguery, and everywhere there are
insanely expensive restaurants, masked balls, and dances to the music
of gipsy bands? To abstain when every one else is indulging in these
things, and fashion commands, is difficult indeed!
Chichikov was for setting forth again, but the roads had now got into
a bad state, and, in addition, there was in preparation a second
fair—one for the dvoriane only. The former fair had been held for the
sale of horses, cattle, cheese, and other peasant produce, and the
buyers had been merely cattle-jobbers and kulaks; but this time the
function was to be one for the sale of manorial produce which had been
bought up by wholesale dealers at Nizhni Novgorod, and then
transferred hither. To the fair, of course, came those ravishers of
the Russian purse who, in the shape of Frenchmen with pomades and
Frenchwomen with hats, make away with money earned by blood and hard
work, and, like the locusts of Egypt (to use Kostanzhoglo's term) not
only devour their prey, but also dig holes in the ground and leave
behind their eggs.
Although, unfortunately, the occurrence of a bad harvest retained many
landowners at their country houses, the local tchinovniks (whom the
failure of the harvest did NOT touch) proceeded to let themselves
go—as also, to their undoing, did their wives. The reading of books
of the type diffused, in these modern days, for the inoculation of
humanity with a craving for new and superior amenities of life had
caused every one to conceive a passion for experimenting with the
latest luxury; and to meet this want the French wine merchant opened a
new establishment in the shape of a restaurant as had never before
been heard of in the province—a restaurant where supper could be
procured on credit as regarded one-half, and for an unprecedentedly
low sum as regarded the other. This exactly suited both heads of
boards and clerks who were living in hope of being able some day to
resume their bribes-taking from suitors. There also developed a
tendency to compete in the matter of horses and liveried flunkeys;
with the result that despite the damp and snowy weather exceedingly
elegant turnouts took to parading backwards and forwards. Whence these
equipages had come God only knows, but at least they would not have
disgraced St. Petersburg. From within them merchants and attorneys
doffed their caps to ladies, and inquired after their health, and
likewise it became a rare sight to see a bearded man in a rough fur
cap, since every one now went about clean-shaven and with dirty teeth,
after the European fashion.
"Sir, I beg of you to inspect my goods," said a tradesman as Chichikov
was passing his establishment. "Within my doors you will find a large
variety of clothing."
"Have you a cloth of bilberry-coloured check?" inquired the person
addressed.
"I have cloths of the finest kind," replied the tradesman, raising his
cap with one hand, and pointing to his shop with the other. Chichikov
entered, and in a trice the proprietor had dived beneath the counter,
and appeared on the other side of it, with his back to his wares and
his face towards the customer. Leaning forward on the tips of his
fingers, and indicating his merchandise with just the suspicion of a
nod, he requested the gentleman to specify exactly the species of
cloth which he required.
"A cloth with an olive-coloured or a bottle-tinted spot in its
pattern—anything in the nature of bilberry," explained Chichikov.
"That being so, sir, I may say that I am about to show you clothes of
a quality which even our illustrious capitals could not surpass. Hi,
boy! Reach down that roll up there—number 34. No, NOT that one,
fool! Such fellows as you are always too good for your job.
There—hand it to me. This is indeed a nice pattern!"
Unfolding the garment, the tradesman thrust it close to Chichikov's
nose in order that he might not only handle, but also smell it.
"Excellent, but not what I want," pronounced Chichikov. "Formerly I
was in the Custom's Department, and therefore wear none but cloth of
the latest make. What I want is of a ruddier pattern than this—not
exactly a bottle-tinted pattern, but something approaching bilberry."
"I understand, sir. Of course you require only the very newest thing.
A cloth of that kind I DO possess, sir, and though excessive in
price, it is of a quality to match."
Carrying the roll of stuff to the light—even stepping into the street
for the purpose—the shopman unfolded his prize with the words, "A
truly beautiful shade! A cloth of smoked grey, shot with flame colour!"
The material met with the customer's approval, a price was agreed
upon, and with incredible celerity the vendor made up the purchase
into a brown-paper parcel, and stowed it away in Chichikov's koliaska.
At this moment a voice asked to be shown a black frockcoat.
"The devil take me if it isn't Khlobuev!" muttered our hero, turning
his back upon the newcomer. Unfortunately the other had seen him.
"Come, come, Paul Ivanovitch!" he expostulated. "Surely you do not
intend to overlook me? I have been searching for you everywhere, for I
have something important to say to you."
"My dear sir, my very dear sir," said Chichikov as he pressed
Khlobuev's hand, "I can assure you that, had I the necessary leisure,
I should at all times be charmed to converse with you." And mentally
he added: "Would that the Evil One would fly away with you!"
Almost at the same time Murazov, the great landowner, entered the
shop. As he did so our hero hastened to exclaim: "Why, it is Athanasi
Vassilievitch! How ARE you, my very dear sir?"
"Well enough," replied Murazov, removing his cap (Khlobuev and the
shopman had already done the same). "How, may I ask, are YOU?"
"But poorly," replied Chichikov, "for of late I have been troubled
with indigestion, and my sleep is bad. I do not get sufficient
exercise."
However, instead of probing deeper into the subject of Chichikov's
ailments, Murazov turned to Khlobuev.
"I saw you enter the shop," he said, "and therefore followed you, for
I have something important for your ear. Could you spare me a minute
or two?"
"Certainly, certainly," said Khlobuev, and the pair left the shop
together.
"I wonder what is afoot between them," said Chichikov to himself.
"A wise and noble gentleman, Athanasi Vassilievitch!" remarked the
tradesman. Chichikov made no reply save a gesture.
"Paul Ivanovitch, I have been looking for you everywhere," Lienitsin's
voice said from behind him, while again the tradesman hastened to
remove his cap. "Pray come home with me, for I have something to say
to you."
Chichikov scanned the speaker's face, but could make nothing of it.
Paying the tradesman for the cloth, he left the shop.
Meanwhile Murazov had conveyed Khlobuev to his rooms.
"Tell me," he said to his guest, "exactly how your affairs stand. I
take it that, after all, your aunt left you something?"
"It would be difficult to say whether or not my affairs are improved,"
replied Khlobuev. "True, fifty souls and thirty thousand roubles came
to me from Madame Khanasarova, but I had to pay them away to satisfy
my debts. Consequently I am once more destitute. But the important
point is that there was trickery connected with the legacy, and
shameful trickery at that. Yes, though it may surprise you, it is a
fact that that fellow Chichikov—"
"Yes, Semen Semenovitch, but, before you go on to speak of Chichikov,
pray tell me something about yourself, and how much, in your opinion,
would be sufficient to clear you of your difficulties?"
"My difficulties are grievous," replied Khlobuev. "To rid myself of
them, and also to have enough to go on with, I should need to acquire
at least a hundred thousand roubles, if not more. In short, things are
becoming impossible for me."
"And, had you the money, what should you do with it?"
"I should rent a tenement, and devote myself to the education of my
children. Not a thought should I give to myself, for my career is
over, seeing that it is impossible for me to re-enter the Civil
Service and I am good for nothing else."
"Nevertheless, when a man is leading an idle life he is apt to incur
temptations which shun his better-employed brother."
"Yes, but beyond question I am good for nothing, so broken is my
health, and such a martyr I am to dyspepsia."
"But how to you propose to live without working? How can a man like
you exist without a post or a position of any kind? Look around you at
the works of God. Everything has its proper function, and pursues its
proper course. Even a stone can be used for one purpose or another.
How, then, can it be right for a man who is a thinking being to remain
a drone?"
"But I should not be a drone, for I should employ myself with the
education of my children."
"No, Semen Semenovitch—no: THAT you would find the hardest task of
all. For how can a man educate his children who has never even
educated himself? Instruction can be imparted to children only through
the medium of example; and would a life like yours furnish them with a
profitable example—a life which has been spent in idleness and the
playing of cards? No, Semen Semenovitch. You had far better hand your
children over to me. Otherwise they will be ruined. Do not think that
I am jesting. Idleness has wrecked your life, and you must flee from
it. Can a man live with nothing to keep him in place? Even a
journeyman labourer who earns the barest pittance may take an interest
in his occupation."
"Athanasi Vassilievitch, I have tried to overcome myself, but what
further resource lies open to me? Can I who am old and incapable
re-enter the Civil Service and spend year after year at a desk with
youths who are just starting their careers? Moreover, I have lost the
trick of taking bribes; I should only hinder both myself and others;
while, as you know, it is a department which has an established caste
of its own. Therefore, though I have considered, and even attempted to
obtain, every conceivable post, I find myself incompetent for them
all. Only in a monastery should I—"
"Nay, nay. Monasteries, again, are only for those who have worked. To
those who have spent their youth in dissipation such havens say what
the ant said to the dragonfly—namely, 'Go you away, and return to
your dancing.' Yes, even in a monastery do folk toil and toil—they do
not sit playing whist." Murazov looked at Khlobuev, and added: "Semen
Semenovitch, you are deceiving both yourself and me."
Poor Khlobuev could not utter a word in reply, and Murazov began to
feel sorry for him.
"Listen, Semen Semenovitch," he went on. "I know that you say your
prayers, and that you go to church, and that you observe both Matins
and Vespers, and that, though averse to early rising, you leave your
bed at four o'clock in the morning before the household fires have
been lit."
"Ah, Athanasi Vassilievitch," said Khlobuev, "that is another matter
altogether. That I do, not for man's sake, but for the sake of Him who
has ordered all things here on earth. Yes, I believe that He at least
can feel compassion for me, that He at least, though I be foul and
lowly, will pardon me and receive me when all men have cast me out,
and my best friend has betrayed me and boasted that he has done it for
a good end."
Khlobuev's face was glowing with emotion, and from the older man's
eyes also a tear had started.
"You will do well to hearken unto Him who is merciful," he said. "But
remember also that, in the eyes of the All-Merciful, honest toil is of
equal merit with a prayer. Therefore take unto yourself whatsoever
task you may, and do it as though you were doing it, not unto man, but
unto God. Even though to your lot there should fall but the cleaning
of a floor, clean that floor as though it were being cleaned for Him
alone. And thence at least this good you will reap: that there will
remain to you no time for what is evil—for card playing, for
feasting, for all the life of this gay world. Are you acquainted with
Ivan Potapitch?"
"Yes, not only am I acquainted with him, but I also greatly respect
him."
"Time was when Ivan Potapitch was a merchant worth half a million
roubles. In everything did he look but for gain, and his affairs
prospered exceedingly, so much so that he was able to send his son to
be educated in France, and to marry his daughter to a General. And
whether in his office or at the Exchange, he would stop any friend
whom he encountered and carry him off to a tavern to drink, and spend
whole days thus employed. But at last he became bankrupt, and God sent
him other misfortunes also. His son! Ah, well! Ivan Potapitch is now
my steward, for he had to begin life over again. Yet once more his
affairs are in order, and, had it been his wish, he could have
restarted in business with a capital of half a million roubles. 'But
no,' he said. 'A steward am I, and a steward will I remain to the end;
for, from being full-stomached and heavy with dropsy, I have become
strong and well.' Not a drop of liquor passes his lips, but only
cabbage soup and gruel. And he prays as none of the rest of us pray,
and he helps the poor as none of the rest of us help them; and to this
he would add yet further charity if his means permitted him to do so."