Dead Souls
instead of simply. For that purpose he hies him to England. Yes, THAT is
the thing to do. What folly!” Kostanzhoglo spat and added: “Yet when
he returns from abroad he is a hundred times more ignorant than when he
went.”
“Ah, Constantine,” put in his wife anxiously, “you know how bad for you
it is to talk like this.”
“Yes, but how am I to help losing my temper? The thing touches me too
closely, it vexes me too deeply to think that the Russian character
should be degenerating. For in that character there has dawned a sort of
Quixotism which never used to be there. Yes, no sooner does a man get
a little education into his head than he becomes a Don Quixote, and
establishes schools on his estate such as even a madman would never have
dreamed of. And from that school there issues a workman who is good for
nothing, whether in the country or in the town--a fellow who drinks
and is for ever standing on his dignity. Yet still our landowners keep
taking to philanthropy, to converting themselves into philanthropic
knights-errant, and spending millions upon senseless hospitals and
institutions, and so ruining themselves and turning their families
adrift. Yes, that is all that comes of philanthropy.”
Chichikov’s business had nothing to do with the spread of enlightenment,
he was but seeking an opportunity to inquire further concerning the
putting of refuse to lucrative uses; but Kostanzhoglo would not let
him get a word in edgeways, so irresistibly did the flow of sarcastic
comment pour from the speaker’s lips.
“Yes,” went on Kostanzhoglo, “folk are always scheming to educate the
peasant. But first make him well-off and a good farmer. THEN he will
educate himself fast enough. As things are now, the world has grown
stupid to a degree that passes belief. Look at the stuff our present-day
scribblers write! Let any sort of a book be published, and at once you
will see every one making a rush for it. Similarly will you find
folk saying: ‘The peasant leads an over-simple life. He ought to be
familiarised with luxuries, and so led to yearn for things above his
station.’ And the result of such luxuries will be that the peasant will
become a rag rather than a man, and suffer from the devil only knows
what diseases, until there will remain in the land not a boy of eighteen
who will not have experienced the whole gamut of them, and found himself
left with not a tooth in his jaws or a hair on his pate. Yes, that is
what will come of infecting the peasant with such rubbish. But, thank
God, there is still one healthy class left to us--a class which has
never taken up with the ‘advantages’ of which I speak. For that we ought
to be grateful. And since, even yet, the Russian agriculturist remains
the most respect-worthy man in the land, why should he be touched? Would
to God every one were an agriculturist!”
“Then you believe agriculture to be the most profitable of occupations?”
said Chichikov.
“The best, at all events--if not the most profitable. ‘In the sweat
of thy brow shalt thou till the land.’ To quote that requires no
great wisdom, for the experience of ages has shown us that, in the
agricultural calling, man has ever remained more moral, more pure, more
noble than in any other. Of course I do not mean to imply that no other
calling ought to be practised: simply that the calling in question lies
at the root of all the rest. However much factories may be established
privately or by the law, there will still lie ready to man’s hand all
that he needs--he will still require none of those amenities which
are sapping the vitality of our present-day folk, nor any of those
industrial establishments which make their profit, and keep themselves
going, by causing foolish measures to be adopted which, in the end,
are bound to deprave and corrupt our unfortunate masses. I myself am
determined never to establish any manufacture, however profitable,
which will give rise to a demand for ‘higher things,’ such as sugar
and tobacco--no not if I lose a million by my refusing to do so. If
corruption MUST overtake the MIR, it shall not be through my hands.
And I think that God will justify me in my resolve. Twenty years have
I lived among the common folk, and I know what will inevitably come of
such things.”
“But what surprises me most,” persisted Chichikov, “is that from refuse
it should be possible, with good management, to make such an immensity
of profit.”
“And as for political economy,” continued Kostanzhoglo, without noticing
him, and with his face charged with bilious sarcasm, “--as for political
economy, it is a fine thing indeed. Just one fool sitting on another
fool’s back, and flogging him along, even though the rider can see
no further than his own nose! Yet into the saddle will that fool
climb--spectacles and all! Oh, the folly, the folly of such things!” And
the speaker spat derisively.
“That may be true,” said his wife. “Yet you must not get angry about it.
Surely one can speak on such subjects without losing one’s temper?”
“As I listen to you, most worthy Constantine Thedorovitch,” Chichikov
hastened to remark, “it becomes plain to me that you have penetrated
into the meaning of life, and laid your finger upon the essential root
of the matter. Yet supposing, for a moment, we leave the affairs of
humanity in general, and turn our attention to a purely individual
affair, might I ask you how, in the case of a man becoming a landowner,
and having a mind to grow wealthy as quickly as possible (in order that
he may fulfil his bounden obligations as a citizen), he can best set
about it?”
“How he can best set about growing wealthy?” repeated Kostanzhoglo.
“Why,--”
“Let us go to supper,” interrupted the lady of the house, rising from
her chair, and moving towards the centre of the room, where she wrapped
her shivering young form in a shawl. Chichikov sprang up with the
alacrity of a military man, offered her his arm, and escorted her, as
on parade, to the dining-room, where awaiting them there was the
soup-toureen. From it the lid had just been removed, and the room was
redolent of the fragrant odour of early spring roots and herbs. The
company took their seats, and at once the servants placed the
remainder of the dishes (under covers) upon the table and withdrew,
for Kostanzhoglo hated to have servants listening to their employers’
conversation, and objected still more to their staring at him all the
while that he was eating.
When the soup had been consumed, and glasses of an excellent vintage
resembling Hungarian wine had been poured out, Chichikov said to his
host:
“Most worthy sir, allow me once more to direct your attention to the
subject of which we were speaking at the point when the conversation
became interrupted. You will remember that I was asking you how best a
man can set about, proceed in, the matter of growing...”
[Here from the original two pages are missing.]
... “A property for which, had he asked forty thousand, I should still
have demanded a reduction.”
“Hm!” thought Chichikov; then added aloud: “But why do you not purchase
it yourself?”
“Because to everything there must be assigned a limit. Already my
property keeps me sufficiently employed. Moreover, I should cause our
local dvoriane to begin crying out in chorus that I am exploiting their
extremities, their ruined position, for the purpose of acquiring land
for under its value. Of that I am weary.”
“How readily folk speak evil!” exclaimed Chichikov.
“Yes, and the amount of evil-speaking in our province surpasses belief.
Never will you hear my name mentioned without my being called also
a miser and a usurer of the worst possible sort; whereas my accusers
justify themselves in everything, and say that, ‘though we have wasted
our money, we have started a demand for the higher amenities of life,
and therefore encouraged industry with our wastefulness, a far better
way of doing things than that practised by Kostanzhoglo, who lives like
a pig.’”
“Would _I_ could live in your ‘piggish’ fashion!” ejaculated Chichikov.
“And so forth, and so forth. Yet what are the ‘higher amenities of
life’? What good can they do to any one? Even if a landowner of the
day sets up a library, he never looks at a single book in it, but soon
relapses into card-playing--the usual pursuit. Yet folk call me names
simply because I do not waste my means upon the giving of dinners! One
reason why I do not give such dinners is that they weary me; and another
reason is that I am not used to them. But come you to my house for the
purpose of taking pot luck, and I shall be delighted to see you. Also,
folk foolishly say that I lend money on interest; whereas the truth is
that if you should come to me when you are really in need, and should
explain to me openly how you propose to employ my money, and I should
perceive that you are purposing to use that money wisely, and that you
are really likely to profit thereby--well, in that case you would find
me ready to lend you all that you might ask without interest at all.”
“That is a thing which it is well to know,” reflected Chichikov.
“Yes,” repeated Kostanzhoglo, “under those circumstances I should never
refuse you my assistance. But I do object to throwing my money to the
winds. Pardon me for expressing myself so plainly. To think of lending
money to a man who is merely devising a dinner for his mistress, or
planning to furnish his house like a lunatic, or thinking of taking his
paramour to a masked ball or a jubilee in honour of some one who had
better never have been born!”
And, spitting, he came near to venting some expression which would
scarcely have been becoming in the presence of his wife. Over his face
the dark shadow of hypochondria had cast a cloud, and furrows had formed
on his brow and temples, and his every gesture bespoke the influence of
a hot, nervous rancour.
“But allow me once more to direct your attention to the subject of our
recently interrupted conversation,” persisted Chichikov as he sipped a
glass of excellent raspberry wine. “That is to say, supposing I were
to acquire the property which you have been good enough to bring to my
notice, how long would it take me to grow rich?”
“That would depend on yourself,” replied Kostanzhoglo with grim
abruptness and evident ill-humour. “You might either grow rich quickly
or you might never grow rich at all. If you made up your mind to grow
rich, sooner or later you would find yourself a wealthy man.”
“Indeed?” ejaculated Chichikov.
“Yes,” replied Kostanzhoglo, as sharply as though he were angry with
Chichikov. “You would merely need to be fond of work: otherwise you
would effect nothing. The main thing is to like looking after your
property. Believe me, you would never grow weary of doing so. People
would have it that life in the country is dull; whereas, if I were to
spend a single day as it is spent by some folk, with their stupid clubs
and their restaurants and their theatres, I should die of ennui. The
fools, the idiots, the generations of blind dullards! But a landowner
never finds the days wearisome--he has not the time. In his life not a
moment remains unoccupied; it is full to the brim. And with it all goes
an endless variety of occupations. And what occupations! Occupations
which genuinely uplift the soul, seeing that the landowner walks with
nature and the seasons of the year, and takes part in, and is intimate
with, everything which is evolved by creation. For let us look at the
round of the year’s labours. Even before spring has arrived there will
have begun a general watching and a waiting for it, and a preparing for
sowing, and an apportioning of crops, and a measuring of seed grain by
byres, and drying of seed, and a dividing of the workers into teams.