Dead Souls
“You have become a wearisome sort of person,” commented Platon, and
walked away to the window. “Ah, here comes Constantine,” presently he
added.
Chichikov also glanced out of the window, and saw approaching the
verandah a brisk, swarthy-complexioned man of about forty, a man clad in
a rough cloth jacket and a velveteen cap. Evidently he was one of those
who care little for the niceties of dress. With him, bareheaded, there
came a couple of men of a somewhat lower station in life, and all
three were engaged in an animated discussion. One of the barin’s two
companions was a plain peasant, and the other (clad in a blue Siberian
smock) a travelling factor. The fact that the party halted awhile by
the entrance steps made it possible to overhear a portion of their
conversation from within.
“This is what you peasants had better do,” the barin was saying.
“Purchase your release from your present master. I will lend you the
necessary money, and afterwards you can work for me.”
“No, Constantine Thedorovitch,” replied the peasant. “Why should we do
that? Remove us just as we are. You will know how to arrange it, for a
cleverer gentleman than you is nowhere to be found. The misfortune of us
muzhiks is that we cannot protect ourselves properly. The tavern-keepers
sell us such liquor that, before a man knows where he is, a glassful of
it has eaten a hole through his stomach, and made him feel as though
he could drink a pail of water. Yes, it knocks a man over before he can
look around. Everywhere temptation lies in wait for the peasant, and he
needs to be cunning if he is to get through the world at all. In fact,
things seem to be contrived for nothing but to make us peasants lose
our wits, even to the tobacco which they sell us. What are folk like
ourselves to do, Constantine Thedorovitch? I tell you it is terribly
difficult for a muzhik to look after himself.”
“Listen to me. This is how things are done here. When I take on a serf,
I fit him out with a cow and a horse. On the other hand, I demand of him
thereafter more than is demanded of a peasant anywhere else. That is to
say, first and foremost I make him work. Whether a peasant be working
for himself or for me, never do I let him waste time. I myself toil like
a bullock, and I force my peasants to do the same, for experience
has taught me that that is the only way to get through life. All the
mischief in the world comes through lack of employment. Now, do you go
and consider the matter, and talk it over with your mir [48].”
“We have done that already, Constantine Thedorovitch, and our elders’
opinion is: ‘There is no need for further talk. Every peasant belonging
to Constantine Thedorovitch is well off, and hasn’t to work for nothing.
The priests of his village, too, are men of good heart, whereas ours
have been taken away, and there is no one to bury us.’”
“Nevertheless, do you go and talk the matter over again.”
“We will, barin.”
Here the factor who had been walking on the barin’s other side put in a
word.
“Constantine Thedorovitch,” he said, “I beg of you to do as I have
requested.”
“I have told you before,” replied the barin, “that I do not care to play
the huckster. I am not one of those landowners whom fellows of your sort
visit on the very day that the interest on a mortgage is due. Ah, I know
your fraternity thoroughly, and know that you keep lists of all who have
mortgages to repay. But what is there so clever about that? Any man,
if you pinch him sufficiently, will surrender you a mortgage at
half-price,--any man, that is to say, except myself, who care nothing
for your money. Were a loan of mine to remain out three years, I should
never demand a kopeck of interest on it.”
“Quite so, Constantine Thedorovitch,” replied the factor. “But I am
asking this of you more for the purpose of establishing us on a business
footing than because I desire to win your favour. Prey, therefore,
accept this earnest money of three thousand roubles.” And the man drew
from his breast pocket a dirty roll of bank-notes, which, carelessly
receiving, Kostanzhoglo thrust, uncounted, into the back pocket of his
overcoat.
“Hm!” thought Chichikov. “For all he cares, the notes might have been a
handkerchief.”
When Kostanzhoglo appeared at closer quarters--that is to say, in the
doorway of the drawing-room--he struck Chichikov more than ever with the
swarthiness of his complexion, the dishevelment of his black, slightly
grizzled locks, the alertness of his eye, and the impression of fiery
southern origin which his whole personality diffused. For he was not
wholly a Russian, nor could he himself say precisely who his forefathers
had been. Yet, inasmuch as he accounted genealogical research no part of
the science of estate-management, but a mere superfluity, he looked upon
himself as, to all intents and purposes, a native of Russia, and the
more so since the Russian language was the only tongue he knew.
Platon presented Chichikov, and the pair exchanged greetings.
“To get rid of my depression, Constantine,” continued Platon, “I am
thinking of accompanying our guest on a tour through a few of the
provinces.”
“An excellent idea,” said Kostanzhoglo. “But precisely whither?” he
added, turning hospitably to Chichikov.
“To tell you the truth,” replied that personage with an affable
inclination of the head as he smoothed the arm of his chair with his
hand, “I am travelling less on my own affairs than on the affairs of
others. That is to say, General Betristchev, an intimate friend, and,
I might add, a generous benefactor, of mine, has charged me with
commissions to some of his relatives. Nevertheless, though relatives are
relatives, I may say that I am travelling on my own account as well, in
that, in addition to possible benefit to my health, I desire to see the
world and the whirligig of humanity, which constitute, so to speak, a
living book, a second course of education.”
“Yes, there is no harm in looking at other corners of the world besides
one’s own.”
“You speak truly. There IS no harm in such a proceeding. Thereby one may
see things which one has not before encountered, one may meet men with
whom one has not before come in contact. And with some men of that kind
a conversation is as precious a benefit as has been conferred upon me
by the present occasion. I come to you, most worthy Constantine
Thedorovitch, for instruction, and again for instruction, and beg of you
to assuage my thirst with an exposition of the truth as it is. I hunger
for the favour of your words as for manna.”
“But how so? What can _I_ teach you?” exclaimed Kostanzhoglo in
confusion. “I myself was given but the plainest of educations.”
“Nay, most worthy sir, you possess wisdom, and again wisdom. Wisdom only
can direct the management of a great estate, that can derive a
sound income from the same, that can acquire wealth of a real, not a
fictitious, order while also fulfilling the duties of a citizen and
thereby earning the respect of the Russian public. All this I pray you
to teach me.”
“I tell you what,” said Kostanzhoglo, looking meditatively at his guest.
“You had better stay with me for a few days, and during that time I can
show you how things are managed here, and explain to you everything.
Then you will see for yourself that no great wisdom is required for the
purpose.”
“Yes, certainly you must stay here,” put in the lady of the house. Then,
turning to her brother, she added: “And you too must stay. Why should
you be in such a hurry?”
“Very well,” he replied. “But what say YOU, Paul Ivanovitch?”
“I say the same as you, and with much pleasure,” replied Chichikov.
“But also I ought to tell you this: that there is a relative of General
Betristchev’s, a certain Colonel Koshkarev--”
“Yes, we know him; but he is quite mad.”
“As you say, he is mad, and I should not have been intending to visit
him, were it not that General Betristchev is an intimate friend of mine,
as well as, I might add, my most generous benefactor.”
“Then,” said Kostanzhoglo, “do you go and see Colonel Koshkarev NOW.
He lives less than ten versts from here, and I have a gig already
harnessed. Go to him at once, and return here for tea.”
“An excellent idea!” cried Chichikov, and with that he seized his cap.
Half an hour’s drive sufficed to bring him to the Colonel’s
establishment. The village attached to the manor was in a state of utter
confusion, since in every direction building and repairing operations
were in progress, and the alleys were choked with heaps of lime, bricks,
and beams of wood. Also, some of the huts were arranged to resemble
offices, and superscribed in gilt letters “Depot for Agricultural
Implements,” “Chief Office of Accounts,” “Estate Works Committee,”
“Normal School for the Education of Colonists,” and so forth.
Chichikov found the Colonel posted behind a desk and holding a pen
between his teeth. Without an instant’s delay the master of the
establishment--who seemed a kindly, approachable man, and accorded to
his visitor a very civil welcome--plunged into a recital of the labour
which it had cost him to bring the property to its present condition of
affluence. Then he went on to lament the fact that he could not make
his peasantry understand the incentives to labour which the riches
of science and art provide; for instance, he had failed to induce his
female serfs to wear corsets, whereas in Germany, where he had resided
for fourteen years, every humble miller’s daughter could play the piano.
None the less, he said, he meant to peg away until every peasant on
the estate should, as he walked behind the plough, indulge in a regular
course of reading Franklin’s Notes on Electricity, Virgil’s Georgics, or
some work on the chemical properties of soil.
“Good gracious!” mentally exclaimed Chichikov. “Why, I myself have not
had time to finish that book by the Duchesse de la Valliere!”
Much else the Colonel said. In particular did he aver that, provided
the Russian peasant could be induced to array himself in German costume,
science would progress, trade increase, and the Golden Age dawn in
Russia.
For a while Chichikov listened with distended eyes. Then he felt
constrained to intimate that with all that he had nothing to do, seeing
that his business was merely to acquire a few souls, and thereafter to
have their purchase confirmed.
“If I understand you aright,” said the Colonel, “you wish to present a
Statement of Plea?”
“Yes, that is so.”
“Then kindly put it into writing, and it shall be forwarded to the
Office for the Reception of Reports and Returns. Thereafter that Office
will consider it, and return it to me, who will, in turn, dispatch it to
the Estate Works Committee, who will, in turn, revise it, and present it
to the Administrator, who, jointly with the Secretary, will--”
“Pardon me,” expostulated Chichikov, “but that procedure will take up a
great deal of time. Why need I put the matter into writing at all? It is
simply this. I want a few souls which are--well, which are, so to speak,
dead.”
“Very good,” commented the Colonel. “Do you write down in your Statement
of Plea that the souls which you desire are, ‘so to speak, dead.’”
“But what would be the use of my doing so? Though the souls are dead, my
purpose requires that they should be represented as alive.”
“Very good,” again commented the Colonel. “Do you write down in your
Statement that ‘it is necessary’ (or, should you prefer an alternative
phrase, ‘it is requested,’ or ‘it is desiderated,’ or ‘it is prayed,’)
‘that the souls be represented as alive.’ At all events, WITHOUT
documentary process of that kind, the matter cannot possibly be carried
through. Also, I will appoint a Commissioner to guide you round the
various Offices.”