Dead Souls
in the mirror, he could not forbear exclaiming: “Holy Mother of God,
but what a nasty-looking brute I have become!” and for a long while
afterwards could not with anything like sang-froid contemplate his
reflection. Yet throughout he bore up stoutly and patiently--and ended
by being transferred to the Customs Department. It may be said that the
department had long constituted the secret goal of his ambition, for
he had noted the foreign elegancies with which its officials always
contrived to provide themselves, and had also observed that invariably
they were able to send presents of china and cambric to their sisters
and aunts--well, to their lady friends generally. Yes, more than once
he had said to himself with a sigh: “THAT is the department to which I
ought to belong, for, given a town near the frontier, and a sensible set
of colleagues, I might be able to fit myself out with excellent linen
shirts.” Also, it may be said that most frequently of all had his
thoughts turned towards a certain quality of French soap which imparted
a peculiar whiteness to the skin and a peerless freshness to the cheeks.
Its name is known to God alone, but at least it was to be procured only
in the immediate neighbourhood of the frontier. So, as I say, Chichikov
had long felt a leaning towards the Customs, but for a time had been
restrained from applying for the same by the various current advantages
of the Building Commission; since rightly he had adjudged the latter to
constitute a bird in the hand, and the former to constitute only a bird
in the bush. But now he decided that, come what might, into the Customs
he must make his way. And that way he made, and then applied himself
to his new duties with a zeal born of the fact that he realised that
fortune had specially marked him out for a Customs officer. Indeed,
such activity, perspicuity, and ubiquity as his had never been seen or
thought of. Within four weeks at the most he had so thoroughly got his
hand in that he was conversant with Customs procedure in every detail.
Not only could he weigh and measure, but also he could divine from
an invoice how many arshins of cloth or other material a given piece
contained, and then, taking a roll of the latter in his hand, could
specify at once the number of pounds at which it would tip the scale. As
for searchings, well, even his colleagues had to admit that he possessed
the nose of a veritable bloodhound, and that it was impossible not
to marvel at the patience wherewith he would try every button of the
suspected person, yet preserve, throughout, a deadly politeness and an
icy sang-froid which surpass belief. And while the searched were raging,
and foaming at the mouth, and feeling that they would give worlds to
alter his smiling exterior with a good, resounding slap, he would
move not a muscle of his face, nor abate by a jot the urbanity of his
demeanour, as he murmured, “Do you mind so far incommoding yourself as
to stand up?” or “Pray step into the next room, madam, where the wife
of one of our staff will attend you,” or “Pray allow me to slip this
penknife of mine into the lining of your coat” (after which he would
extract thence shawls and towels with as much nonchalance as he
would have done from his own travelling-trunk). Even his superiors
acknowledged him to be a devil at the job, rather than a human being, so
perfect was his instinct for looking into cart-wheels, carriage-poles,
horses’ ears, and places whither an author ought not to penetrate even
in thought--places whither only a Customs official is permitted to go.
The result was that the wretched traveller who had just crossed the
frontier would, within a few minutes, become wholly at sea, and, wiping
away the perspiration, and breaking out into body flushes, would be
reduced to crossing himself and muttering, “Well, well, well!” In fact,
such a traveller would feel in the position of a schoolboy who, having
been summoned to the presence of the headmaster for the ostensible
purpose of being given an order, has found that he receives, instead, a
sound flogging. In short, for some time Chichikov made it impossible
for smugglers to earn a living. In particular, he reduced Polish
Jewry almost to despair, so invincible, so almost unnatural, was the
rectitude, the incorruptibility which led him to refrain from converting
himself into a small capitalist with the aid of confiscated goods and
articles which, “to save excessive clerical labour,” had failed to be
handed over to the Government. Also, without saying it goes that
such phenomenally zealous and disinterested service attracted general
astonishment, and, eventually, the notice of the authorities; whereupon
he received promotion, and followed that up by mooting a scheme for
the infallible detection of contrabandists, provided that he could be
furnished with the necessary authority for carrying out the same. At
once such authority was accorded him, as also unlimited power to conduct
every species of search and investigation. And that was all he
wanted. It happened that previously there had been formed a well-found
association for smuggling on regular, carefully prepared lines, and
that this daring scheme seemed to promise profit to the extent of
some millions of money: yet, though he had long had knowledge of it,
Chichikov had said to the association’s emissaries, when sent to buy him
over, “The time is not yet.” But now that he had got all the reins into
his hands, he sent word of the fact to the gang, and with it the remark,
“The time is NOW.” Nor was he wrong in his calculations, for, within
the space of a year, he had acquired what he could not have made during
twenty years of non-fraudulent service. With similar sagacity he had,
during his early days in the department, declined altogether to enter
into relations with the association, for the reason that he had then
been a mere cipher, and would have come in for nothing large in the way
of takings; but now--well, now it was another matter altogether, and
he could dictate what terms he liked. Moreover, that the affair might
progress the more smoothly, he suborned a fellow tchinovnik of the type
which, in spite of grey hairs, stands powerless against temptation;
and, the contract concluded, the association duly proceeded to business.
Certainly business began brilliantly. But probably most of my readers
are familiar with the oft-repeated story of the passage of Spanish sheep
across the frontier in double fleeces which carried between their outer
layers and their inner enough lace of Brabant to sell to the tune of
millions of roubles; wherefore I will not recount the story again beyond
saying that those journeys took place just when Chichikov had become
head of the Customs, and that, had he not a hand in the enterprise, not
all the Jews in the world could have brought it to success. By the time
that three or four of these ovine invasions had taken place, Chichikov
and his accomplice had come to be the possessors of four hundred
thousand roubles apiece; while some even aver that the former’s gains
totalled half a million, owing to the greater industry which he had
displayed in the matter. Nor can any one but God say to what a figure
the fortunes of the pair might not eventually have attained, had not an
awkward contretemps cut right across their arrangements. That is to
say, for some reason or another the devil so far deprived these
tchinovnik-conspirators of sense as to make them come to words with
one another, and then to engage in a quarrel. Beginning with a heated
argument, this quarrel reached the point of Chichikov--who was,
possibly, a trifle tipsy--calling his colleague a priest’s son; and
though that description of the person so addressed was perfectly
accurate, he chose to take offence, and to answer Chichikov with the
words (loudly and incisively uttered), “It is YOU who have a priest for
your father,” and to add to that (the more to incense his companion),
“Yes, mark you! THAT is how it is.” Yet, though he had thus turned the
tables upon Chichikov with a tu quoque, and then capped that exploit
with the words last quoted, the offended tchinovnik could not remain
satisfied, but went on to send in an anonymous document to the
authorities. On the other hand, some aver that it was over a woman that
the pair fell out--over a woman who, to quote the phrase then current
among the staff of the Customs Department, was “as fresh and as strong
as the pulp of a turnip,” and that night-birds were hired to assault our
hero in a dark alley, and that the scheme miscarried, and that in any
case both Chichikov and his friend had been deceived, seeing that the
person to whom the lady had really accorded her favours was a certain
staff-captain named Shamsharev. However, only God knows the truth of the
matter. Let the inquisitive reader ferret it out for himself. The fact
remains that a complete exposure of the dealings with the contrabandists
followed, and that the two tchinovniks were put to the question,
deprived of their property, and made to formulate in writing all that
they had done. Against this thunderbolt of fortune the State Councillor
could make no headway, and in some retired spot or another sank into
oblivion; but Chichikov put a brave face upon the matter, for, in
spite of the authorities’ best efforts to smell out his gains, he had
contrived to conceal a portion of them, and also resorted to every
subtle trick of intellect which could possibly be employed by an
experienced man of the world who has a wide knowledge of his fellows.
Nothing which could be effected by pleasantness of demeanour, by moving
oratory, by clouds of flattery, and by the occasional insertion of
a coin into a palm did he leave undone; with the result that he was
retired with less ignominy than was his companion, and escaped actual
trial on a criminal charge. Yet he issued stripped of all his capital,
stripped of his imported effects, stripped of everything. That is to
say, all that remained to him consisted of ten thousand roubles which he
had stored against a rainy day, two dozen linen shirts, a small britchka
of the type used by bachelors, and two serving-men named Selifan and
Petrushka. Yes, and an impulse of kindness moved the tchinovniks of the
Customs also to set aside for him a few cakes of the soap which he had
found so excellent for the freshness of the cheeks. Thus once more our
hero found himself stranded. And what an accumulation of misfortunes had
descended upon his head!--though, true, he termed them “suffering in the
Service in the cause of Truth.” Certainly one would have thought that,
after these buffetings and trials and changes of fortune--after this
taste of the sorrows of life--he and his precious ten thousand roubles
would have withdrawn to some peaceful corner in a provincial town,
where, clad in a stuff dressing-gown, he could have sat and listened to
the peasants quarrelling on festival days, or (for the sake of a breath
of fresh air) have gone in person to the poulterer’s to finger chickens
for soup, and so have spent a quiet, but not wholly useless, existence;
but nothing of the kind took place, and therein we must do justice to
the strength of his character. In other words, although he had undergone
what, to the majority of men, would have meant ruin and discouragement
and a shattering of ideals, he still preserved his energy. True,
downcast and angry, and full of resentment against the world in general,
he felt furious with the injustice of fate, and dissatisfied with
the dealings of men; yet he could not forbear courting additional
experiences. In short, the patience which he displayed was such as to
make the wooden persistency of the German--a persistency merely due to
the slow, lethargic circulation of the Teuton’s blood--seem nothing at