Dead Souls
could any man in the office have told you how it came about that before
long Chichikov had removed to the Chief Clerk’s house, and become a
person necessary--indeed indispensable--to the household, seeing that he
bought the flour and the sugar, treated the daughter as his betrothed,
called the Chief Clerk “Papenka,” and occasionally kissed “Papenka’s”
hand. In fact, every one at the office supposed that, at the end of
February (i.e. before the beginning of Lent) there would take place
a wedding. Nay, the surly father even began to agitate with the
authorities on Chichikov’s behalf, and so enabled our hero, on a vacancy
occurring, to attain the stool of a Chief Clerk. Apparently this marked
the consummation of Chichikov’s relations with his host, for he hastened
stealthily to pack his trunk and, the next day, figured in a fresh
lodging. Also, he ceased to call the Chief Clerk “Papenka,” or to kiss
his hand; and the matter of the wedding came to as abrupt a termination
as though it had never been mooted. Yet also he never failed to press
his late host’s hand, whenever he met him, and to invite him to tea;
while, on the other hand, for all his immobility and dry indifference,
the Chief Clerk never failed to shake his head with a muttered, “Ah, my
fine fellow, you have grown too proud, you have grown too proud.”
The foregoing constituted the most difficult step that our hero had to
negotiate. Thereafter things came with greater ease and swifter
success. Everywhere he attracted notice, for he developed within
himself everything necessary for this world--namely, charm of manner
and bearing, and great diligence in business matters. Armed with these
resources, he next obtained promotion to what is known as “a fat post,”
and used it to the best advantage; and even though, at that period,
strict inquiry had begun to be made into the whole subject of bribes,
such inquiry failed to alarm him--nay, he actually turned it to account
and thereby manifested the Russian resourcefulness which never fails to
attain its zenith where extortion is concerned. His method of working
was the following. As soon as a petitioner or a suitor put his hand into
his pocket, to extract thence the necessary letters of recommendation
for signature, Chichikov would smilingly exclaim as he detained his
interlocutor’s hand: “No, no! Surely you do not think that I--? But no,
no! It is our duty, it is our obligation, and we do not require rewards
for doing our work properly. So far as YOUR matter is concerned, you may
rest easy. Everything shall be carried through to-morrow. But may I
have your address? There is no need to trouble yourself, seeing that the
documents can easily be brought to you at your residence.” Upon which
the delighted suitor would return home in raptures, thinking: “Here, at
long last, is the sort of man so badly needed. A man of that kind is
a jewel beyond price.” Yet for a day, for two days--nay, even for
three--the suitor would wait in vain so far as any messengers with
documents were concerned. Then he would repair to the office--to find
that his business had not so much as been entered upon! Lastly, he would
confront the “jewel beyond price.” “Oh, pardon me, pardon me!” Chichikov
would exclaim in the politest of tones as he seized and grasped the
visitor’s hands. “The truth is that we have SUCH a quantity of business
on hand! But the matter shall be put through to-morrow, and in the
meanwhile I am most sorry about it.” And with this would go the most
fascinating of gestures. Yet neither on the morrow, nor on the day
following, nor on the third would documents arrive at the suitor’s
abode. Upon that he would take thought as to whether something more
ought not to have been done; and, sure enough, on his making inquiry,
he would be informed that “something will have to be given to the
copyists.” “Well, there can be no harm in that,” he would reply. “As a
matter of fact, I have ready a tchetvertak [39] or two.” “Oh, no, no,”
the answer would come. “Not a tchetvertak per copyist, but a rouble,
is the fee.” “What? A rouble per copyist?” “Certainly. What is there to
grumble at in that? Of the money the copyists will receive a tchetvertak
apiece, and the rest will go to the Government.” Upon that the
disillusioned suitor would fly out upon the new order of things brought
about by the inquiry into illicit fees, and curse both the tchinovniks
and their uppish, insolent behaviour. “Once upon a time,” would the
suitor lament, “one DID know what to do. Once one had tipped the
Director a bank-note, one’s affair was, so to speak, in the hat. But
now one has to pay a rouble per copyist after waiting a week because
otherwise it was impossible to guess how the wind might set! The devil
fly away with all ‘disinterested’ and ‘trustworthy’ tchinovniks!” And
certainly the aggrieved suitor had reason to grumble, seeing that,
now that bribe-takers had ceased to exist, and Directors had uniformly
become men of honour and integrity, secretaries and clerks ought not
with impunity to have continued their thievish ways. In time there
opened out to Chichikov a still wider field, for a Commission was
appointed to supervise the erection of a Government building, and, on
his being nominated to that body, he proved himself one of its most
active members. The Commission got to work without delay, but for a
space of six years had some trouble with the building in question.
Either the climate hindered operations or the materials used were of the
kind which prevents official edifices from ever rising higher than the
basement. But, meanwhile, OTHER quarters of the town saw arise, for each
member of the Commission, a handsome house of the NON-official style of
architecture. Clearly the foundation afforded by the soil of those parts
was better than that where the Government building was still engaged
in hanging fire! Likewise the members of the Commission began to look
exceedingly prosperous, and to blossom out into family life; and, for
the first time in his existence, even Chichikov also departed from the
iron laws of his self-imposed restraint and inexorable self-denial, and
so far mitigated his heretofore asceticism as to show himself a man not
averse to those amenities which, during his youth, he had been capable
of renouncing. That is to say, certain superfluities began to make their
appearance in his establishment. He engaged a good cook, took to wearing
linen shirts, bought for himself cloth of a pattern worn by no one else
in the province, figured in checks shot with the brightest of reds and
browns, fitted himself out with two splendid horses (which he drove with
a single pair of reins, added to a ring attachment for the trace horse),
developed a habit of washing with a sponge dipped in eau-de-Cologne, and
invested in soaps of the most expensive quality, in order to communicate
to his skin a more elegant polish.
But suddenly there appeared upon the scene a new Director--a military
man, and a martinet as regarded his hostility to bribe-takers and
anything which might be called irregular. On the very day after his
arrival he struck fear into every breast by calling for accounts,
discovering hosts of deficits and missing sums, and directing his
attention to the aforesaid fine houses of civilian architecture. Upon
that there ensued a complete reshuffling. Tchinovniks were retired
wholesale, and the houses were sequestrated to the Government, or else
converted into various pious institutions and schools for soldiers’
children. Thus the whole fabric, and especially Chichikov, came crashing
to the ground. Particularly did our hero’s agreeable face displease the
new Director. Why that was so it is impossible to say, but frequently,
in cases of the kind, no reason exists. However, the Director conceived
a mortal dislike to him, and also extended that enmity to the whole of
Chichikov’s colleagues. But inasmuch as the said Director was a military
man, he was not fully acquainted with the myriad subtleties of the
civilian mind; wherefore it was not long before, by dint of maintaining
a discreet exterior, added to a faculty for humouring all and sundry,
a fresh gang of tchinovniks succeeded in restoring him to mildness, and
the General found himself in the hands of greater thieves than before,
but thieves whom he did not even suspect, seeing that he believed
himself to have selected men fit and proper, and even ventured to
boast of possessing a keen eye for talent. In a trice the tchinovniks
concerned appraised his spirit and character; with the result that the
entire sphere over which he ruled became an agency for the detection of
irregularities. Everywhere, and in every case, were those irregularities
pursued as a fisherman pursues a fat sturgeon with a gaff; and to such
an extent did the sport prove successful that almost in no time each
participator in the hunt was seen to be in possession of several
thousand roubles of capital. Upon that a large number of the former band
of tchinovniks also became converted to paths of rectitude, and were
allowed to re-enter the Service; but not by hook or by crook could
Chichikov worm his way back, even though, incited thereto by sundry
items of paper currency, the General’s first secretary and principal
bear leader did all he could on our hero’s behalf. It seemed that the
General was the kind of man who, though easily led by the nose (provided
it was done without his knowledge) no sooner got an idea into his head
than it stuck there like a nail, and could not possibly be extracted;
and all that the wily secretary succeeded in procuring was the tearing
up of a certain dirty fragment of paper--even that being effected only
by an appeal to the General’s compassion, on the score of the unhappy
fate which, otherwise, would befall Chichikov’s wife and children (who,
luckily, had no existence in fact).
“Well,” said Chichikov to himself, “I have done my best, and now
everything has failed. Lamenting my misfortune won’t help me, but only
action.” And with that he decided to begin his career anew, and once
more to arm himself with the weapons of patience and self-denial. The
better to effect this, he had, of course to remove to another town. Yet
somehow, for a while, things miscarried. More than once he found himself
forced to exchange one post for another, and at the briefest of notice;
and all of them were posts of the meanest, the most wretched, order.
Yet, being a man of the utmost nicety of feeling, the fact that he found
himself rubbing shoulders with anything but nice companions did not
prevent him from preserving intact his innate love of what was decent
and seemly, or from cherishing the instinct which led him to hanker
after office fittings of lacquered wood, with neatness and orderliness
everywhere. Nor did he at any time permit a foul word to creep into
his speech, and would feel hurt even if in the speech of others there
occurred a scornful reference to anything which pertained to rank and
dignity. Also, the reader will be pleased to know that our hero changed
his linen every other day, and in summer, when the weather was very
hot, EVERY day, seeing that the very faintest suspicion of an unpleasant
odour offended his fastidiousness. For the same reason it was his
custom, before being valeted by Petrushka, always to plug his nostrils
with a couple of cloves. In short, there were many occasions when his
nerves suffered rackings as cruel as a young girl’s, and so helped to
increase his disgust at having once more to associate with men who set
no store by the decencies of life. Yet, though he braced himself to the
task, this period of adversity told upon his health, and he even grew a
trifle shabby. More than once, on happening to catch sight of himself