Dead Souls
Vespers, and that, though averse to early rising, you leave your bed at
four o’clock in the morning before the household fires have been lit.”
“Ah, Athanasi Vassilievitch,” said Khlobuev, “that is another matter
altogether. That I do, not for man’s sake, but for the sake of Him who
has ordered all things here on earth. Yes, I believe that He at least
can feel compassion for me, that He at least, though I be foul and
lowly, will pardon me and receive me when all men have cast me out, and
my best friend has betrayed me and boasted that he has done it for a
good end.”
Khlobuev’s face was glowing with emotion, and from the older man’s eyes
also a tear had started.
“You will do well to hearken unto Him who is merciful,” he said. “But
remember also that, in the eyes of the All-Merciful, honest toil is of
equal merit with a prayer. Therefore take unto yourself whatsoever task
you may, and do it as though you were doing it, not unto man, but unto
God. Even though to your lot there should fall but the cleaning of a
floor, clean that floor as though it were being cleaned for Him alone.
And thence at least this good you will reap: that there will remain to
you no time for what is evil--for card playing, for feasting, for all
the life of this gay world. Are you acquainted with Ivan Potapitch?”
“Yes, not only am I acquainted with him, but I also greatly respect
him.”
“Time was when Ivan Potapitch was a merchant worth half a million
roubles. In everything did he look but for gain, and his affairs
prospered exceedingly, so much so that he was able to send his son to be
educated in France, and to marry his daughter to a General. And whether
in his office or at the Exchange, he would stop any friend whom he
encountered and carry him off to a tavern to drink, and spend whole days
thus employed. But at last he became bankrupt, and God sent him other
misfortunes also. His son! Ah, well! Ivan Potapitch is now my steward,
for he had to begin life over again. Yet once more his affairs are in
order, and, had it been his wish, he could have restarted in business
with a capital of half a million roubles. ‘But no,’ he said. ‘A
steward am I, and a steward will I remain to the end; for, from being
full-stomached and heavy with dropsy, I have become strong and well.’
Not a drop of liquor passes his lips, but only cabbage soup and gruel.
And he prays as none of the rest of us pray, and he helps the poor as
none of the rest of us help them; and to this he would add yet further
charity if his means permitted him to do so.”
Poor Khlobuev remained silent, as before.
The elder man took his two hands in his.
“Semen Semenovitch,” he said, “you cannot think how much I pity you, or
how much I have had you in my thoughts. Listen to me. In the monastery
there is a recluse who never looks upon a human face. Of all men whom
I know he has the broadest mind, and he breaks not his silence save to
give advice. To him I went and said that I had a friend (though I
did not actually mention your name) who was in great trouble of soul.
Suddenly the recluse interrupted me with the words: ‘God’s work first,
and our own last. There is need for a church to be built, but no money
wherewith to build it. Money must be collected to that end.’ Then he
shut to the wicket. I wondered to myself what this could mean, and
concluded that the recluse had been unwilling to accord me his counsel.
Next I repaired to the Archimandrite, and had scarce reached his door
when he inquired of me whether I could commend to him a man meet to be
entrusted with the collection of alms for a church--a man who should
belong to the dvoriane or to the more lettered merchants, but who would
guard the trust as he would guard the salvation of his soul. On the
instant thought I to myself: ‘Why should not the Holy Father appoint
my friend Semen Semenovitch? For the way of suffering would benefit him
greatly; and as he passed with his ledger from landowner to peasant,
and from peasant to townsman, he would learn where folk dwell, and who
stands in need of aught, and thus would become better acquainted with
the countryside than folk who dwell in cities. And, thus become, he
would find that his services were always in demand.’ Only of late did
the Governor-General say to me that, could he but be furnished with the
name of a secretary who should know his work not only by the book but
also by experience, he would give him a great sum, since nothing is to
be learned by the former means, and, through it, much confusion arises.”
“You confound me, you overwhelm me!” said Khlobuev, staring at his
companion in open-eyed astonishment. “I can scarcely believe that your
words are true, seeing that for such a trust an active, indefatigable
man would be necessary. Moreover, how could I leave my wife and children
unprovided for?”
“Have no fear,” said Murazov, “I myself will take them under my care, as
well as procure for the children a tutor. Far better and nobler were
it for you to be travelling with a wallet, and asking alms on behalf
of God, then to be remaining here and asking alms for yourself alone.
Likewise, I will furnish you with a tilt-waggon, so that you may be
saved some of the hardships of the journey, and thus be preserved in
good health. Also, I will give you some money for the journey, in
order that, as you pass on your way, you may give to those who stand
in greater need than their fellows. Thus, if, before giving, you assure
yourself that the recipient of the alms is worthy of the same, you will
do much good; and as you travel you will become acquainted with all men
and sundry, and they will treat you, not as a tchinovnik to be feared,
but as one to whom, as a petitioner on behalf of the Church, they may
unloose their tongues without peril.”
“I feel that the scheme is a splendid one, and would gladly bear my part
in it were it not likely to exceed my strength.”
“What is there that does NOT exceed your strength?” said Murazov.
“Nothing is wholly proportionate to it--everything surpasses it. Help
from above is necessary: otherwise we are all powerless. Strength comes
of prayer, and of prayer alone. When a man crosses himself, and cries,
‘Lord, have mercy upon me!’ he soon stems the current and wins to the
shore. Nor need you take any prolonged thought concerning this matter.
All that you need do is to accept it as a commission sent of God. The
tilt-waggon can be prepared for you immediately; and then, as soon as
you have been to the Archimandrite for your book of accounts and his
blessing, you will be free to start on your journey.”
“I submit myself to you, and accept the commission as a divine trust.”
And even as Khlobuev spoke he felt renewed vigour and confidence arise
in his soul, and his mind begin to awake to a sense of hopefulness of
eventually being able to put to flight his troubles. And even as it was,
the world seemed to be growing dim to his eyes....
Meanwhile, plea after plea had been presented to the legal authorities,
and daily were relatives whom no one had before heard of putting in
an appearance. Yes, like vultures to a corpse did these good folk come
flocking to the immense property which Madam Khanasarov had left behind
her. Everywhere were heard rumours against Chichikov, rumours with
regard to the validity of the second will, rumours with regard to will
number one, and rumours of larceny and concealment of funds. Also, there
came to hand information with regard both to Chichikov’s purchase of
dead souls and to his conniving at contraband goods during his service
in the Customs Department. In short, every possible item of evidence
was exhumed, and the whole of his previous history investigated. How
the authorities had come to suspect and to ascertain all this God only
knows, but the fact remains that there had fallen into the hands of
those authorities information concerning matters of which Chichikov had
believed only himself and the four walls to be aware. True, for a
time these matters remained within the cognisance of none but the
functionaries concerned, and failed to reach Chichikov’s ears; but at
length a letter from a confidential friend gave him reason to think that
the fat was about to fall into the fire. Said the letter briefly: “Dear
sir, I beg to advise you that possibly legal trouble is pending, but
that you have no cause for uneasiness, seeing that everything will
be attended to by yours very truly.” Yet, in spite of its tenor, the
epistle reassured its recipient. “What a genius the fellow is!” thought
Chichikov to himself. Next, to complete his satisfaction, his tailor
arrived with the new suit which he had ordered. Not without a certain
sense of pride did our hero inspect the frockcoat of smoked grey shot
with flame colour and look at it from every point of view, and then
try on the breeches--the latter fitting him like a picture, and quite
concealing any deficiencies in the matter of his thighs and calves
(though, when buckled behind, they left his stomach projecting like a
drum). True, the customer remarked that there appeared to be a slight
tightness under the right armpit, but the smiling tailor only rejoined
that that would cause the waist to fit all the better. “Sir,” he said
triumphantly, “you may rest assured that the work has been executed
exactly as it ought to have been executed. No one, except in St.
Petersburg, could have done it better.” As a matter of fact, the tailor
himself hailed from St. Petersburg, but called himself on his signboard
“Foreign Costumier from London and Paris”--the truth being that by
the use of a double-barrelled flourish of cities superior to mere
“Karlsruhe” and “Copenhagen” he designed to acquire business and cut out
his local rivals.
Chichikov graciously settled the man’s account, and, as soon as he had
gone, paraded at leisure, and con amore, and after the manner of an
artist of aesthetic taste, before the mirror. Somehow he seemed to look
better than ever in the suit, for his cheeks had now taken on a still
more interesting air, and his chin an added seductiveness, while his
white collar lent tone to his neck, the blue satin tie heightened the
effect of the collar, the fashionable dickey set off the tie,
the rich satin waistcoat emphasised the dickey, and the
smoked-grey-shot-with-flame-colour frockcoat, shining like silk,
splendidly rounded off the whole. When he turned to the right he looked
well: when he turned to the left he looked even better. In short, it
was a costume worthy of a Lord Chamberlain or the species of dandy who
shrinks from swearing in the Russian language, but amply relieves his
feelings in the language of France. Next, inclining his head slightly
to one side, our hero endeavoured to pose as though he were addressing
a middle-aged lady of exquisite refinement; and the result of these
efforts was a picture which any artist might have yearned to portray.
Next, his delight led him gracefully to execute a hop in ballet fashion,
so that the wardrobe trembled and a bottle of eau-de-Cologne came
crashing to the floor. Yet even this contretemps did not upset him; he
merely called the offending bottle a fool, and then debated whom first
he should visit in his attractive guise.
Suddenly there resounded through the hall a clatter of spurred heels,
and then the voice of a gendarme saying: “You are commanded to present
yourself before the Governor-General!” Turning round, Chichikov stared
in horror at the spectacle presented; for in the doorway there was
standing an apparition wearing a huge moustache, a helmet surmounted
with a horsehair plume, a pair of crossed shoulder-belts, and a gigantic
sword! A whole army might have been combined into a single individual!
And when Chichikov opened his mouth to speak the apparition repeated,