Dead Souls
Paul Ivanovitch displayed an extraordinary aptitude for accommodating
himself to his new position. To begin with, he encouraged his host
in his philosophical inertia by saying that the latter would help
Tientietnikov to become a centenarian. Next, in the matter of a life of
isolation, he hit things off exactly by remarking that such a life
bred in a man a capacity for high thinking. Lastly, as he inspected the
library and dilated on books in general, he contrived an opportunity to
observe that literature safeguarded a man from a tendency to waste his
time. In short, the few words of which he delivered himself were brief,
but invariably to the point. And this discretion of speech was outdone
by his discretion of conduct. That is to say, whether entering
or leaving the room, he never wearied his host with a question if
Tientietnikov had the air of being disinclined to talk; and with equal
satisfaction the guest could either play chess or hold his tongue.
Consequently Tientietnikov said to himself:
“For the first time in my life I have met with a man with whom it is
possible to live. In general, not many of the type exist in Russia, and,
though clever, good-humoured, well-educated men abound, one would be
hard put to it to find an individual of equable temperament with whom
one could share a roof for centuries without a quarrel arising. Anyway,
Chichikov is the first of his sort that I have met.”
For his part, Chichikov was only too delighted to reside with a
person so quiet and agreeable as his host. Of a wandering life he was
temporarily weary, and to rest, even for a month, in such a beautiful
spot, and in sight of green fields and the slow flowering of spring, was
likely to benefit him also from the hygienic point of view. And, indeed,
a more delightful retreat in which to recuperate could not possibly have
been found. The spring, long retarded by previous cold, had now begun
in all its comeliness, and life was rampant. Already, over the first
emerald of the grass, the dandelion was showing yellow, and the red-pink
anemone was hanging its tender head; while the surface of every pond
was a swarm of dancing gnats and midges, and the water-spider was being
joined in their pursuit by birds which gathered from every quarter to
the vantage-ground of the dry reeds. Every species of creature also
seemed to be assembling in concourse, and taking stock of one another.
Suddenly the earth became populous, the forest had opened its eyes, and
the meadows were lifting up their voice in song. In the same way had
choral dances begun to be weaved in the village, and everywhere that the
eye turned there was merriment. What brightness in the green of nature,
what freshness in the air, what singing of birds in the gardens of the
mansion, what general joy and rapture and exaltation! Particularly in
the village might the shouting and singing have been in honour of a
wedding!
Chichikov walked hither, thither, and everywhere--a pursuit for which
there was ample choice and facility. At one time he would direct his
steps along the edge of the flat tableland, and contemplate the depths
below, where still there lay sheets of water left by the floods of
winter, and where the island-like patches of forest showed leafless
boughs; while at another time he would plunge into the thicket and
ravine country, where nests of birds weighted branches almost to the
ground, and the sky was darkened with the criss-cross flight of cawing
rooks. Again, the drier portions of the meadows could be crossed to the
river wharves, whence the first barges were just beginning to set forth
with pea-meal and barley and wheat, while at the same time one’s ear
would be caught with the sound of some mill resuming its functions as
once more the water turned the wheel. Chichikov would also walk afield
to watch the early tillage operations of the season, and observe how
the blackness of a new furrow would make its way across the expanse of
green, and how the sower, rhythmically striking his hand against the
pannier slung across his breast, would scatter his fistfuls of seed with
equal distribution, apportioning not a grain too much to one side or to
the other.
In fact, Chichikov went everywhere. He chatted and talked, now with the
bailiff, now with a peasant, now with a miller, and inquired into the
manner and nature of everything, and sought information as to how an
estate was managed, and at what price corn was selling, and what species
of grain was best for spring and autumn grinding, and what was the name
of each peasant, and who were his kinsfolk, and where he had bought his
cow, and what he fed his pigs on. Chichikov also made inquiry concerning
the number of peasants who had lately died: but of these there appeared
to be few. And suddenly his quick eye discerned that Tientietnikov’s
estate was not being worked as it might have been--that much neglect and
listlessness and pilfering and drunkenness was abroad; and on perceiving
this, he thought to himself: “What a fool is that Tientietnikov! To
think of letting a property like this decay when he might be drawing
from it an income of fifty thousand roubles a year!”
Also, more than once, while taking these walks, our hero pondered the
idea of himself becoming a landowner--not now, of course, but later,
when his chief aim should have been achieved, and he had got into his
hands the necessary means for living the quiet life of the proprietor
of an estate. Yes, and at these times there would include itself in his
castle-building the figure of a young, fresh, fair-faced maiden of the
mercantile or other rich grade of society, a woman who could both play
and sing. He also dreamed of little descendants who should perpetuate
the name of Chichikov; perhaps a frolicsome little boy and a fair young
daughter, or possibly, two boys and quite two or three daughters; so
that all should know that he had really lived and had his being, that he
had not merely roamed the world like a spectre or a shadow; so that for
him and his the country should never be put to shame. And from that he
would go on to fancy that a title appended to his rank would not be
a bad thing--the title of State Councillor, for instance, which was
deserving of all honour and respect. Ah, it is a common thing for a
man who is taking a solitary walk so to detach himself from the irksome
realities of the present that he is able to stir and to excite and to
provoke his imagination to the conception of things he knows can never
really come to pass!
Chichikov’s servants also found the mansion to their taste, and, like
their master, speedily made themselves at home in it. In particular did
Petrushka make friends with Grigory the butler, although at first the
pair showed a tendency to outbrag one another--Petrushka beginning
by throwing dust in Grigory’s eyes on the score of his (Petrushka’s)
travels, and Grigory taking him down a peg or two by referring to St.
Petersburg (a city which Petrushka had never visited), and Petrushka
seeking to recover lost ground by dilating on towns which he HAD
visited, and Grigory capping this by naming some town which is not to be
found on any map in existence, and then estimating the journey
thither as at least thirty thousand versts--a statement which would so
completely flabbergast the henchman of Chichikov’s suite that he would
be left staring open-mouthed, amid the general laughter of the domestic
staff. However, as I say, the pair ended by swearing eternal friendship
with one another, and making a practice of resorting to the village
tavern in company.
For Selifan, however, the place had a charm of a different kind. That is
to say, each evening there would take place in the village a singing of
songs and a weaving of country dances; and so shapely and buxom were the
maidens--maidens of a type hard to find in our present-day villages on
large estates--that he would stand for hours wondering which of them was
the best. White-necked and white-bosomed, all had great roving eyes, the
gait of peacocks, and hair reaching to the waist. And as, with his hands
clasping theirs, he glided hither and thither in the dance, or retired
backwards towards a wall with a row of other young fellows, and then,
with them, returned to meet the damsels--all singing in chorus (and
laughing as they sang it), “Boyars, show me my bridegroom!” and dusk was
falling gently, and from the other side of the river there kept coming
far, faint, plaintive echoes of the melody--well, then our Selifan
hardly knew whether he were standing upon his head or his heels. Later,
when sleeping and when waking, both at noon and at twilight, he would
seem still to be holding a pair of white hands, and moving in the dance.
Chichikov’s horses also found nothing of which to disapprove. Yes,
both the bay, the Assessor, and the skewbald accounted residence at
Tientietnikov’s a most comfortable affair, and voted the oats excellent,
and the arrangement of the stables beyond all cavil. True, on this
occasion each horse had a stall to himself; yet, by looking over the
intervening partition, it was possible always to see one’s fellows, and,
should a neighbour take it into his head to utter a neigh, to answer it
at once.
As for the errand which had hitherto led Chichikov to travel about
Russia, he had now decided to move very cautiously and secretly in the
matter. In fact, on noticing that Tientietnikov went in absorbedly for
reading and for talking philosophy, the visitor said to himself, “No--I
had better begin at the other end,” and proceeded first to feel his way
among the servants of the establishment. From them he learnt several
things, and, in particular, that the barin had been wont to go and
call upon a certain General in the neighbourhood, and that the General
possessed a daughter, and that she and Tientietnikov had had an affair
of some sort, but that the pair had subsequently parted, and gone
their several ways. For that matter, Chichikov himself had noticed
that Tientietnikov was in the habit of drawing heads of which each
representation exactly resembled the rest.
Once, as he sat tapping his silver snuff-box after luncheon, Chichikov
remarked:
“One thing you lack, and only one, Andrei Ivanovitch.”
“What is that?” asked his host.
“A female friend or two,” replied Chichikov.
Tientietnikov made no rejoinder, and the conversation came temporarily
to an end.
But Chichikov was not to be discouraged; wherefore, while waiting for
supper and talking on different subjects, he seized an opportunity to
interject:
“Do you know, it would do you no harm to marry.”
As before, Tientietnikov did not reply, and the renewed mention of the
subject seemed to have annoyed him.
For the third time--it was after supper--Chichikov returned to the
charge by remarking:
“To-day, as I was walking round your property, I could not help thinking
that marriage would do you a great deal of good. Otherwise you will
develop into a hypochondriac.”
Whether Chichikov’s words now voiced sufficiently the note of
persuasion, or whether Tientietnikov happened, at the moment, to be
unusually disposed to frankness, at all events the young landowner
sighed, and then responded as he expelled a puff of tobacco smoke:
“To attain anything, Paul Ivanovitch, one needs to have been born under
a lucky star.”
And he related to his guest the whole history of his acquaintanceship
and subsequent rupture with the General.
As Chichikov listened to the recital, and gradually realised that the
affair had arisen merely out of a chance word on the General’s part, he
was astounded beyond measure, and gazed at Tientietnikov without knowing
what to make of him.
“Andrei Ivanovitch,” he said at length, “what was there to take offence
at?”